Prologue: Survivors of a War
763, two years after the Battle of Belhalla
Tailtiu's eyes snapped open and she sat up in a flash, a scream already building up in her throat. At the last moment, she noticed little Tine sleeping soundly next to her, seemingly unbothered by the rustle, and caught herself. Tailtiu forced herself to take shallow breaths, sorrow quickly replacing the initial terror of the nightmare.
"Hah…calm down, Tailtiu. It's just a nightmare…again…" The mage took deep breaths, forcing the piercing images of falling flames and screaming voices away. That was in the past, she told herself.
"Tailtiu." A soft voice brought her out of her thoughts, to her relief. "Are you alright? Is it another nightmare?"
Tailtiu sighed, sliding off the bed gently to not wake Tine. It's not like she would be sleeping easily anytime soon, anyway. "It's nothing. Is Arthur sleeping well?"
Azelle looked at her with an expression Tailtiu couldn't decipher through the dark. However, she had a good guess on what he was thinking. "Arthur is fine." Azelle slowly reassured. "Tailtiu, it's okay to have nightmares."
Tailtiu flinched, and looked down, giving up. Azelle could always see right through her. She sat down on a nearby chair, smiling bitterly. "It's stupid. I wasn't even there to see it, but I still have nightmares about the flames…"
Azelle frowned, sitting down next to her. "It's not stupid." He chastised gently, in hushed whispers. "Neither of us were at the battle, Tailtiu. We both agreed when Sigurd suggested it to leave to Silesse. It was the best choice for us, and Arthur and Tine."
Tailtu looked at Tine, the little bundle of peace and adorableness still snoozing away. Her smile became a little less bitter. "Yeah…Arthur and Tine are just the cutest, don't you think?"
Azelle smiled too, looking relieved. They sat in silence for a little bit, watching Tine's toddler chest rise and fall to her breathing. For that little while, the war and trauma they survived didn't exist.
However, Tailtiu's eyes became downcast again. "Azelle…do you ever regret making that choice? You didn't have to come with me, you know? You still have your brother…"
"Please, Tailtiu. Don't say that." Azelle shook his head softly. "I don't want to imagine a world where I had abandoned you to fight Friege with Sigurd. If I had to choose between you and Arvis, you know I would choose you. We should just move on from the war."
"How, Azelle?" Tailtiu shot back in an uncharacteristically snappish whisper. "We tried over and over again, but everyone around us has given up on resistance. They think the empire's so great. The world has already forgotten what he did to achieve that rule!"
Azelle sighed, but he couldn't disagree. Arvis had always wanted the throne, not to further his own power, he said, but to improve the world. And since he had taken over, it seemed like this was true. Releasing slaves, banishing corrupt officials, arresting vile merchants, and many similar actions were swiftly carried out, earning the support of the people quickly and overwhelmingly.
"Brother wanted to construct a world with equality, where there was no discrimination. Yet he so unfairly stripped away the lives of so many. An ideal world…by framing innocent people?"
Azelle couldn't fathom what Arvis was thinking. He had tried multiple times to raise a rebellion, but it never went anywhere. The masses were content with believing Sigurd was a traitor and his death was a victory for Grannvale. The people of Silesse likely considered them criminals, Azelle thought, and it was only by Queen Erinys' protection that they could live so peacefully.
"Father Claude used to say that if the objective is righteous, but the means are wrong, then failure will most certainly be the result." Azelle clenched his fist as he thought of Arvis' hypocrisy. "Brother is wrong. He's definitely wrong!"
A cry from behind them made both of them jump. Tine, woken by Azelle's righteous anger, started whining quietly at being woken up, but Azelle knew it would quickly become wailing.
"Oh no!" Tailtiu quickly picked up Tine, rocking her slowly to try and abate the crying.
"Sorry." Azelle shyly muttered. "I haven't been thinking about this, since I knew it would just make me angry…"
Tailtiu sighed as Tine quieted. "You miss your brother, don't you? You want to see him."
Azelle frowned. "I want to tell him how much he's messed up if that counts."
Tailtiu laughed slightly, raising Azelle's spirits as he smiled inadvertently.
"I'd never thought I'd see moody Azelle," She teased. "What will I tell Arthur now that his image of his 'perfect, gentle father' has been shattered?"
"Oh, stop it." He couldn't help but smile, however. "Speaking of Arthur, he's been doing well in magic. He seems to prefer Wind magic, though, over fire or thunder."
"A little ironic, eh?" Tailtiu laughed, and as she went back to caring for a cooing Tine, Azelle couldn't help but think about Tailtiu's words. You want to see him, don't you?
It took a few days to come to a decision. As Azelle watched Arthur run around with Ced and Tine draw clumsily with Fee, he made up his mind. Tailtiu and Erinys were chatting amiably, laughing about something little Fee had done a few days earlier.
"I'm going to Belhalla." The words spilled out before he knew it, but Azelle knew he had resolved to do so. "I need to speak to Arvis."
"What?" Tailtiu blinked in surprise, and Erinys fell silent. "What…what are you saying?"
"I've been thinking, Tailtiu. I do want to see Arvis again. I have to talk to him."
"But…" Tailtiu hesitated, seeing the serious look on the usually shy mage's face. "What about Tine and Arthur?"
Azelle knew he had to do this. For once in a long time, his resolve was firm. He would go speak to his brother. Everything would become clear, as it would be the people's choice. "It's been years since the Battle of Belhalla. Silesse and Grannvale are at peace. I'll come back, but I know I can't keep putting this off with Arvis."
Tailtiu was at a loss for words. Erinys gently placed a hand on her shoulder, before facing Azelle. "It seems this has been weighing on you for some time. Are you sure about this, Azelle?"
He nodded. "It'll only be for a little while. I'm not planning to stay. For the time being, can I trust you to keep them safe, Erinys?"
The queen of Silesse nodded instantly. "Of course, Azelle. I won't let any harm come to them while you're away." Azelle marveled at the royal authority in her voice, scarcely believing she was still the same girl that was easily moved to tears from what felt like so long ago.
"When…when are you going to leave?" Tailtiu asked hesitantly, and each word was like a stab to the heart. He looked at Arthur and Tine again, oblivious to the struggles of the world and the trauma of the past. A little seed of doubt in his heart took root, and Azelle paused for a moment, frowning. Was this the right choice?
"I'll pack today and leave tomorrow." This had to be the right choice. He could not stand by as Arvis continued to rule from the death of innocents. "It won't take long, Tailtiu. Maybe a month or two, I swear."
Tailtiu took a deep breath and nodded. She smiled brightly, but Azelle wondered if it was forced or not. "I understand, Azelle. I trust you."
Azelle smiled back, emotions and feelings tumbling inside him like Fjalar's holy blood was setting fire through his veins. Arvis…brother. Wait for me.
"Thank you so much for driving those bandits off, miss…" The man paused, realizing he didn't know her name.
The orange-haired woman paused, relaxing her grip on the borrowed sword. She opened her mouth, but no answer came out. Cursing herself silently, she realized she didn't even know her own name, much less where she came from or what happened before. All she knew was that those bandits couldn't get away with pillaging and looting any longer…
"I…" She hesitated, racking her brain for something, anything. A faint calling of a memory pushed at the edges of her mind, and she strained toward it. You will not die here. I, Eyvel, god of the Yewfelle, will make a geas with you…
"Eyvel." Where had that come from? She didn't know, but she had said it anyway. "My name is Eyvel."
765, four years after the Battle of Belhalla, three years after the fall of Leonster
"What?" Finn stared blankly, immediately tuning out Leif and Nanna's happy laughs as they played with Asbel. The bishop had kindly allowed them to stay in Hrest, and for now, Finn was sure that Thracia and Friege had no clue of their whereabouts. So why…?
"I have to go back, Finn," Lachesis repeated, her words stumbling over each other. "Diarmuid…he's still in Isaach. I haven't seen him in three years…"
"Lachesis…" Finn wanted to protest, but he had spent enough time with Lachesis to know when she wasn't going to give up on something…and when she was near tears.
"I miss my son!" Lachesis broke into sobs, and Finn quickly wrapped his arms around her, trying to calm her outburst. "I miss him so much…"
"I know. I understand." Finn softly replied. He looked over at the children, who had stopped to stare. Lachesis' chest heaved up and down, but she collected herself quickly, wiping away the tears.
"Mommy? What's wrong, mommy?" Nanna toddled over and hugged her mother's leg, eyes wide with worry.
"Nothing dear…" Lachesis quickly patted Nanna on the head, ushering her back to Asbel and Leif.
"I'm going to look for Ares, too." She added, turning back to Finn. "I don't know if I have another chance at this before Thracia and the Empire…"
"Yeah." Finn nodded. The empire was peaceful now and was keeping Thracia and Friege in check, but they had no delusions it would last. Isaach was still under Dozel's thumb, and recently Grannvale had been making threatening motions toward Silesse as well. This faux peace wouldn't last long, Finn knew.
"If you see him first, though, I want you to have Nanna give him this." She handed him a letter, which he quickly skimmed.
"You wrote this?"
"I don't know how much Grahnye has told him." Lachesis shrugged. "I hope he's still in Thracia, but who knows anymore…"
Finn nodded, but he couldn't stop himself from trembling as his thoughts went back to the journey that Lachesis would have to take to get to Isaach. "Is this really necessary? The Aed Desert, Lachesis…"
"What can a desert do to me, Finn?" She smiled assuredly. "Nothing will stop me from seeing my son."
"I don't doubt that." He couldn't help but smile back, yet it faded to concern quickly. "When you make it to Isaach, stay there with Diarmuid. It's too dangerous to go back and forth…"
"Don't worry." Lachesis nodded, but Finn noticed her shoulders shaking slightly. "When it's safe, I'll bring him here and find you again, and our family can finally be… together…again…"
Finn quickly wrapped his arms around Lachesis, both to comfort her and to muffle her sobs so the kids wouldn't worry. "I'm sorry, I know how hard it is to take care of two young children—"
"We'll be okay," Finn promised. "Leif and Nanna are very well-behaved."
Lachesis giggled through her tears. "I'm sure it'll only get easier. And I won't be gone for too long, I hope…"
"We'll see each other again, I promise." Finn agreed. "I love you."
"I love you too, Finn." Lachesis smiled, leaning in for a kiss.
Eyvel slashed her blade across the last slaver, watching impassively as he fell back lifeless. She turned around quickly to the little girl in chains, realizing with horror that her back was drenched with blood. "Are you alright?"
The girl stared wide-eyed at the woman, but Eyvel could tell the little girl couldn't stand for much longer in her condition. Carefully squatting down in front of her, Eyvel put away her blade. "What's your name?"
The girls stared at her distrustfully, but Eyvel heard a small whisper. "Mareeta….Where's Papa?"
Eyvel felt a sting of empathy, but she wasn't sure from where. She hesitated as she tried to think of a good response...but how could you tell a child that their parent could be gone forever? "I…I don't know. I'll try to find him. What does he look like?"
"Um…he's tall…" The little girl tried to lift her hands above her head, but they were weighed down by the chains.
"How did you get separated?"
The little girl swayed from left to right, hesitation clear on her face. "I…I got lost. I was looking for Papa…and then…and then…" She began to sniffle, and her legs suddenly buckled.
Eyvel reached out quickly and caught her, cradling her carefully to not touch her injured back. "And then the bad people found you." Eyvel finished for her gently.
"Yeah…" Tears began to gather in Mareeta's little eyes, and Eyvel quickly comforted her.
"They can't hurt you anymore, okay?" Eyvel reassured her, arms wrapped around the little girl. "I won't let them. I won't let anyone hurt you anymore."
A young boy trudged through the Aed Desert alone, heaving a black sword clearly too big for him. Step by step, he stumbled across the sand as the sun shone down harshly on his back. How long had he been walking through this forsaken wasteland? He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going…
"Mother…" The boy, Ares may have teared up if his body had any liquid to spare…
He could still remember the blasts of thunder magic tearing through the estate. How the soldiers had rushed through, dispatching the guards and servants that tried futilely to slow them down. Ares remembered grabbing Mystletainn against his mother's wishes and dashing into the fray…
He hadn't been strong enough. He couldn't save Mother…now here he was, alone, always in fear of those soldiers finding him and coming to finish the job…
The whinny of horses and the sound of hoofs galloping startled him, and at first, he wondered if it was some trick his mind was playing with him from the lack of water. Soon, however, it was clear that the sounds were real, and a surge of terror ran through Ares. Forcing his legs to move faster, he stumbled forward, dragging Mystletainn in a line across the sand.
It was no use, however. Horses quickly surrounded him as their riders looked down at him. Ares heaved his sword up, turning round and round to face the strangers.
"What have we got here?" One of the riders sneered, and Ares looked at him with distaste.
"Some random kid." Another brigand grunted. "What should we do with him?"
"Looks like a strong, young boy. Could fetch a small price." Another grinned nastily, and Ares prepared himself for a fight. "What do you think, boss?"
"Let's not be hasty, now men." A bearded man rode forward, the others parting for him. He stared down at Ares, and Ares stared back balefully. The man's gaze went from Ares to the sword and suddenly widened. "Well, I'll be. That'd be the Demon Sword Mystletainn, isn't it." There were a few murmurs around him, and a few gasps as some of the strangers took a closer look at the blade.
Ares didn't indulge him, raising it higher. "Would you like to find out?" He meant to sound threatening, but with how dry his throat was, it came out as a raspy gasp.
The man grinned, seemingly gratified. "Hah! Hey, get this kid some water." He dismounted, seemingly unbothered at Ares still holding his sword out. "I'm Javarro, kid. And I have an offer for you."
767, six years after the Battle of Belhalla
Edain blinked. "Are you sure, Muirne?"
"Yeah! I want to learn to heal just like Lana!" The little dark-haired girl declared. Edain hesitated. Muirne and her brother didn't have a drop of Holy Blood, she knew that for sure. Could she do it at such an early age despite that? Edain wasn't sure…but she knew Shannan and Oifey had no qualms teaching Deimne how to fight…
How could she deny her when she was teaching Lana already?
"Alright." Edain smiled at her adopted daughter. "But you're going to have to work really hard, okay?"
"Okay!" Muirne jumped and ran off in the other direction. "Lana! Mom agreed to teach me!"
Edain smiled and shook her head at her children's antics. She had adopted Muirne and Deimne when they were so young, and even though she was caring for so many, she couldn't imagine a world without them. Edain exited the back door to find Shannan gently sparring with Seliph, who held a wooden sword.
"Always keep your blade up." Shannan was saying, jabbing lightly toward the eight-year-old.
"Shannan…" Scathach whined from behind them. "When's it going to be my turn? I wanna learn Astra!"
"Uh-uh! Shannan going to teach Astra to me first!" Larcei interjected. The twins began bickering again, with Larcei's hotheaded shouts likely heard by the whole village.
Edain just sighed and let them be, turning her attention to the other side where Oifey was training Diarmuid. "Nicely done, Diarmuid. Keep parrying just like that."
He paused, turning to the other two boys. "How's it going with you two?"
"Great!" Lester called back, knocking another arrow and pointing it at their makeshift target of a pile of wood. "I've hit way more than Deimne."
"That's a lie!" Deimne complained, lowering his bow as he noticed Edain. "Mom, Lester's teasing me again!"
"That's enough, both of you. Larcei, Scathach, stop arguing. It's time for dinner!" Edain called, and the reaction was immediate, with the kids dropping everything and clamoring excitedly. "Go on, set up the table, children."
They stampeded around her, rushing toward the kitchen, and Edain prayed nothing would be broken when she followed. She looked at Oifey and Shannan, who began cleaning up the tools and items that the children had left in their haste. "How's their training going?"
"Slow, but there's no rush," Shannan answered, picking up a wooden sword. "One day they will need to fight, but that day is hopefully far away."
"Indeed. The young prince and his friends will surely have much to play in the future…ah, what am I saying." Oifey shook his head good-naturedly. "Now is not the time to be worrying about the future."
"Yes, the world is at peace for now." Edain agreed. "For how long that will stay, I do not know. But we will be ready, and we will make sure the children are ready too."
"Agreed." Shannan nodded, before frowning as a crash and shatter sounded inside the house. "Did you hear that, Edain?"
"Oh, dear." Edain sighed. She wondered what excuse the kids would have this time…
770, nine years after the Battle of Belhalla
Arvis sighed, watching the sunset from the balcony of his royal chambers. Grannvale glowed under the fading twilight, and the emperor admired the scenery. Friege, Edda, Ygnvi, Dozel, Edda, and Velthomer, are all basking and thriving under his rulership. Prejudice, tyranny, and oppression were no more in the Empire. It was an ideal world…
DEIRDRE! Arvis, please! I beg of you!
How…DAMN YOU, ARVIS!
Arvis sighed. That voice would never leave his head, would it? Even though he had already made peace with it…
Right? Arvis thought back to that fateful day, the Battle of Belhalla. More so a massacre, he supposed, than a real battle. Sigurd's desperate begging and then curses, and the shouts and screams of his army as flames burned away flesh and metal…
It was not a pleasant day, Arvis acknowledged. He couldn't say he was proud of it, either. However, Sigurd's death was necessary, for a peaceful world. Sigurd was too naive and short-sighted, invading Verdane and Agustria to save his friends without considering the consequences. Arvis had to get rid of him to end the war. Framing him was the necessary justification to kill him. By slaying the 'traitor', Grannvale was appeased, and by killing the invader, so was the rest of Jugdral, preventing follow-up war from Sigurd's thoughtless actions.
But perhaps he should have made it quick, impersonal. Instead, he taunted the man and brought out his own wife to drive him to despair. It was partially to confirm Deirdre's identity, but Arvis didn't deny that there was guilty satisfaction…
Arvis hummed thoughtfully. Maybe he did have regrets after all. Maybe he should have let the stones stay unturned. However, he had achieved his goals, and the world was at peace…was this not worth a few lives?
He stared out across the land, focusing on the ideal world. There was no point in wondering about this anymore. Arvis, as emperor, had bigger problems than the haunting of past actions. Dozel had taken over Isaach, but King Danann was an incompetent ruler. Arvis had even heard of a small rebellion growing in Isaach. More recently in Silesse, Ygnvi had pressured Arvis to invade. After all, their king was gone and their prince was but a child. Arvis had little choice but to concede, but managed to coerce the Silessian nobles to step down without war, placing Ygnvi as their governors. Last he heard, Queen Erinys and her children had escaped and their whereabouts were unknown.
Arvis felt a headache arise as he thought about Friege. Those nobles were put in charge of both Northern Thracia and Miletos, and every week he received complaints about their ruling. From cruel discrimination, prejudice, and extortion, Arvis was at his wit's end with Friege.
He sighed. The nobles of the dukedoms were old-fashioned, selfish, and didn't see his vision. Perhaps he should replace them. Ishtar was a fine young lady and Julius' best friend, and he was sure she would be a great leader. Brian had shown potential too, but Ygnvi only had Scipio, who was an idiotic arrogant prick, in Arvis' opinion.
"Fa–Emperor Arvis?" Arvis turned to see red eyes staring back into his own. "The Empress is looking for you."
"Saias." Arvis paused. He remembered his shock when he had found out Saias existed, never really thinking twice about that night with Aida, and not sure how to react…and here he was, still not sure how to speak or react to his illegitimate son. "Tell her I'm merely gathering my thoughts and will be right with her."
Saias nodded but didn't move immediately. Arvis could see the young boy hesitating on something. "You wish to ask me something? Go on, there's no need to be shy."
Saias blinked, a little surprised. Arvis supposed he never really spoke to his son, always paying more attention to Julia and Julius. He just didn't know how to speak to Saias…As he thought that he chided himself. That was something his father would do. Arvis would never be like his father, ignoring his child. He was his responsibility, illegitimate or not.
The first step, he decided there and then as he looked into the red eyes that so reminded him of happier days, was to build a relationship with his son. No more putting it off. "How are your studies going? I understand you've been studying the teachings of Bragi."
"You…you noticed, father," Saias said the last word cautiously as if worried Arvis wouldn't like it. When Arvis didn't react, he continued nervously. "That was what I wanted to talk to you about. I…I want to be a priest of Bragi."
Arvis hummed, surprised. Then again, this was one of the very few times he had heard of Saias' interests or hobbies. "I see. What brought this on?"
"Um…I was talking to Julia and Julius, and they told me I should talk to you…" Saias explained. "Well, Julia suggested, Julius kind of insisted…"
Arvis couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "Sounds like them. So, you want to be a priest? That means traveling to Edda, you know. Won't you miss your siblings?"
"Yeah, but," Saias took out a book. "I've been reading about Bragi's history. Apparently, he was raised by the followers of Saint Maera…our ancestor, yes?"
"Indeed. I'm surprised you found that out. It's quite difficult after the early Grannvale Empire got rid of many texts sympathetic to the Loptrians…" Arvis mused. "You wish to learn more about our ancestry?"
"Yes." Saias resolutely said. "With your permission, Father, I'll go to Edda and study under the priests."
"I have no doubt you will become a great priest in no time," Arvis assured, and he believed it. Saias was a talented young man, and though Julius was the one impressing officials in courts with his young wisdom, Saias was the studious hard worker that Arvis often found reading books in the library with Julia. "They might even send you to the Bragi Tower."
"So…I take it I have your permission?" Saias asked.
"Of course you do." Arvis smiled.
"Thank you, Father." Saias smiled widely, raising a hand to his chest. "I won't disappoint you!"
"I'm sure you won–" Arvis started, noticing something on Saias' hand that he couldn't believe he hadn't seen before. "Saias…is that the mark of Fjalar?"
"Huh? Oh…yes." Saias warily looked at his hand. "Is that…bad?"
"No, not at all…" Arvis looked at his own mark. A perfect match. This…this would change things.
778, seventeen years after the Battle of Belhalla
Arvis thundered down the stairs to the underground levels of the palace. Flames burst from his hands and burned in his eyes, and he did nothing to stop them. Valflame by his side, the Flame Emperor stormed into the underground area.
"Manfroy!" Arvis stormed toward the Archbishop, Valflame at the ready.
"Ah, Emperor." Manfroy sneered, turning toward the fuming man without a care in the world. "Do you like what I've done with the place?"
Arvis paused taking a moment to observe the area. What was once just catacombs used for storage, had become a full miniature temple to Loptous. Runes and images were carved onto the walls, and a shrine had been erected right wear Manfroy had been standing, guarded by four life-size stone statues in battle poses. "What…?"
"You haven't come down here in so long, Emperor. You missed all the construction." Manfroy airily said.
The casual condescension in Manfroy's voice set Arvis off again. "YOU! How dare you! How dare you give Julius the Book of Loptous!"
Manfroy tilted his head. "Oh? What do you mean?"
"Don't act like I wouldn't have noticed! Julius was kind, intelligent, and focused on helping others! What you turned him into…is a monster!" He finished his last words in a spat of fury. He couldn't believe how quickly Julius had changed seemingly instantly and was truly unnerved by the casual cruelty his son suddenly began displaying in his words and expressions...not to mention the lurking aura of darkness that had sprouted out of nowhere… "He attacked Julia!"
"Heh." Manfroy just sneered. "She told you, I assume. No matter…it's too late."
"I already told you, Manfroy! I will have no part in a revived Loptrian Empire. I gave you and your people asylum, and stopped your oppression!"
"Ha!" Manfroy spat. "You think a few gifts and cheap offerings can rid the decades of persecution and destruction of our people? You have no idea how much we suffered, despite the blood of Loptous running through your veins! Do you think the people would support you if they knew that?"
Arvis started, his flames faltering. "They…that's not the point!"
"Isn't it?" Manfroy scoffed, contempt clear on his face. "You're versed in burning things, aren't you? How would you feel if you yourself were burned at the stake, like so many of us?"
He pulled his low hood down, revealing scars and burns all over his forehead and neck. Arvis started at the gruesome sight of dry red flesh, still not fully healed after all the years.
"The Loptrians will not live in hiding anymore. We will bring back the Loptrian Empire, with your son at the helm!"
"I won't let that happen," Arvis growled, opening the Valflame. "Your idea of the Loptrian Empire will destroy everything that is good in the world."
"It very well might." Manfroy agreed, turning his back on Arvis without a care in the world. "And to think, you did so much to make Grannvale a peaceful kingdom…I'll enjoy turning into one that glorifies Loptous with blood and sacrifice." He laughed, the maniacal sound echoing throughout the underground halls. "And the first thing we have to do to bring darkness is to rid the light of Naga…I've entrusted Julius with that."
Arvis raised a hand, ready to incinerate the Archbishop, who discretely raised his own tome as he looked over his shoulder at the fuming emperor…and Manfroy could tell the exact moment when the realization hit the emperor, as Arvis' eyes widened and he froze momentarily. "No…!"
As if on cue, a boom echoed from above, and the room shook. Even faint screams could be heard. "Deirdre…Julia!" Manfroy chuckled evilly, watching as Arvis turned and sprinted for the exit. He looked at the four statues surrounding the shrine, taking note of each of his artworks. It was quite a shame that Arvis didn't recognize them, too tunnel-visioned at the moment he was. Manfroy would have loved to see the look on his face...especially considering this would be his last chance to discover it. "The usurping has begun…my brothers are entering the castle as we speak. Loptous…our great god…our only hope…you will return, as our savior and as their reckoning!"
Arvis sprinted up the stairs, his aging joints protesting against every burst. He ignored the chilling echoes of Manfroy's evil laughs. "Please, Deirdre…Naga help us…"