Chapter 18: Glimpse of Heritage
The thing about heritage…sometimes it really comes to be the most loathsome thing a person can know. Take it from me, it can be worse than any bullet in some cases.
April 8…sort of
The swordsmen who greeted Elric's advent to this new realm of reality were less than talkative.
They forced him at the point of their blades to move. Elric would have fought back but his pistol was not on him, and he found himself unable to summon Bleidd into his hand. Whatever new reality he existed in was, it ensured that he was at the mercy of these men.
He was led through the region, seeing statues depicting a hanged man with restraints wrapped around the bodies. If the statues did not depict these, then there were some displaying male figures armed with blades of their own—bearing some resemblance to Elric's Bleidd.
None of them depicted women. If a female did have a presence among the statues they were displayed in subjugation and submissive. Appearing more akin to concubines.
Elric did not know why, but something deep within him—call it what you will, perhaps a gut feeling—did not like what these portended. It was not as if the act did not appeal to him on some level, speaking to parts of the mind (primordial parts) that Elric preferred to repress and starve out, and at the same time disgusted him.
There was little time for him to dwell on these feelings, as one of the swordsmen pushed him roughly to continue walking forward.
He continued to be led deep in the regions of the city which seemed to span for miles. It felt as if they had been walking for hours before finally arriving at a building. Another of the cyclopian spires, once which stood out amont the myriad of others they had previously passed.
It seemed much more reverent and of significance, based on the calligraphy and inscriptions both on the out walls and inside. It also bore more statues, but these were different—dipecting men and women adorning elegant garments and armor.
And at the center of the inner sanctum was one statue which stood out the most.
The statue was intended to depict what the magician could only assume was intended to represent the Mad God, himself, Arioch.
Its features were more than likely done for the sake of making the appearance striking, god-like, and above messianic.
"Welcome." a voice echoed from a darked corner of the inner sanctum; and soon after a man in crimson robes emerged from the shadow. "Welcome, James Rheon." Reminding Elric of the disembodied voice he heard in Celenike's dungeon.
"You've got the wrong guy, friend." Elric told the man before correcting the error "My name is Elric Belmont."
"There is no mistake." The man said. "James Rheon, begot by Edward Rheon and Joan Belmont. Now known to the world as the gun for hire, Elric Belmont. Responsible for a number of dead coevals…and a number of other deeds which which perhaps require all of tday to recount but I do not have time."
"Why's that?"
"We have so much to prepare for."
Back in the Castle.
The Saber, Archer, and Lancer were all less than happy with the russian magus. Mordred was half way from popping Celenike's fingers, with only the restraint of Enkidu—who was mostly interested in reprimanding the magus and scolding her, since he was in a more lenient mood—holding her back; and Gilgamesh…well, the First Hero was mite tempted to make the Chain of Heaven release his on the Knight of Treachery and allow he do do as she wished with the magus who was predominately to blame for this predicament.
Clitus and Liliana, meanwhile, were keeping an eye on Elric's body. Listening to him mutter words occasionally.
Trish and Luvia were torn on their thoughts of the matter. Coen (as well as the Necromancer) was in agreement with Mordred and more than likely would have joined in on the torture. Edelfelt (and Elric's uncle) on the other hand was more interested in being somewhat reasonable about the subject.
"You have till the count of ten." Trish said, resting her hand on one of her holstered pistols. "Ten seconds to tell us what this thing is and why I shouldn't just knee-cap you right now and let Saber, here, do as she pleases with you."
Mordred was primed witha few ideas in mind, so caught up in the moment she did not even notice Trish referring to her as a female.
"Is such action necessary?" Luvia asked. "Surely she will be likely to give information that is detrimental just so you will not torture her."
"Maybe." Mordred said. "Maybe she has a tell for when she's lying."
"I assure you this was not supposed to happen." Celenike could see the situation had more than exacerbated beyond her liking. And with how things were going down she could imagine it would only get worse for her and thus she opted to reveal some of what she knew. "The previous man I put into contact with the Keystone had no reaction even remotely resembling this."
"Previous?" Kairi asked, looking at the russian curiously. "You exposed someone else to this thing?"
"Yes. But they never had such a reaction—instead it filled his head with knowledge."
"Where, then, is this other man?" Richter asked. More interested in reversing what had been done to his nephew. "Assuming, of course, you did not dispose of the previous subject."
"He…" Celenike hesitated to speak for a moment. Her arrogant and haughty demeanor somewhat staggered by consideration of how she would word this without it being a detriment to what she wanted the outcome to be. But ultimately she forced herself to say "Once he finished writing down all the keystone had divulged to him, I'm afraid he took his own life."
"What?!" Luvia, Mordred, and Trish all said at once.
"When we sent him away to recuperate from the ordeal, he hung himself." Celike explained. "I believed that Belmont would be different."
"Why did you presume that Elric would have a differing reaction?"
"He possesses Alagaddan blood. It was believed that perhaps he could endure the effects of the keystone." Celenike began to explain.
"Show us these writings you speak of." Gilgamesh said, demandingly with his usual superior tone.
"Very well." Celenike complied, bringing forth to them the notes she kept locked away. Though the Russian woman failed to display much of a sense of urgency in her demeanor as she did so. Maintains a degree of her haughtiness. Presenting them with five note books, but only one was legible. The other four were written in some ancient language none of the cadre could read. All to their furthered frustration and Mordred's increasing desire to visit retribution upon the woman.
Gilgamesh suspected these words were a part of the Alagaddan language as some of the calligraphy resembled those found on Arioch's Keystone.
Thankfully this one book did have a section dedicated to the troublesome Keystone. As Luvia and Trish read they were left shocked. It said simply that only "the blood of Alagadda may enter." There was, however, one piece of good news for them—it appeared that certain familiars could follow into the artifact…or atleast that's what the writer hypothesized.
Hearing that the King of Heroes looked to Elric, still standing immobile. He could not help but smile at the chance presented to him—after all you can't threaten the First Hero with the prospect of a good time.
"Mordred. Enkidu," Gilgamesh said, with his eyes still transfixed on the artifact which was still affecting Elric. "We are going in to liberate Belmont."
At once the three Heroic Spirits touched the keystone and disappeared from the room entirely. Finding themselves standing before a statue which bore a similar keystone at its footing. Looking around, with Mordred being the first to ask "What is this place?"
They were quickly approached by a crowd of hooded men armed to the tooth with swords.
Elric was fitted onto the statue of Arioch. His arms stretched out and restrained, facing away from the statue which, for the sake of honesty, creeped him out a smidge, as men in redcloaks prepared some sort of occult-like ritual. All to his frustration as he was still struggling—attempting to break himself free to no avail.
The sight of his captors disgusted him, though he did not let it show. Not completely.
Elric despised the Alagadans in every sense. He loathed all that they were—the depths of their arrogance (which could rival the avarice and hubris of the Rheons), the way they toyed with mere humans (much like the Rheons did with himself) as if they were plaything or pawns to be used for their personal amusement—and the idea that he was kin to these depraved beings aggravated him to no end, and did little but to inspire more self-loathing as he watched the cultists perform their rites and proceedings before the statue of their founder.
He watched them as the hooded man who greeted his arrival was in turn watching him with the sword-bearers resting by the entrance—attending their weapons or observing the freelancer as if he was a leper.
These cultists moved about muttering the chant
Cahf ah nafl mglw'nafh hh' ahor syha'h ah'legeth, ng llll or'azath syha'hnahh n'ghftephai n'gha ahornah ah'mglw'nafh." (That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die).
Eventually they appeared primed to begin the main event and a swirling mist engulfed the room while he was still restrained—failing to break free from his confines.
"Tell me something, boy." He heard a voice say as the mist continued to engulf Belmont who was tensing up, expecting a blade to find him eventually. "We have seen glimpses of your life. You lived a existence of misery in the beginning, experienced heart ache, lost someone you loved, and have engaged in more than a few brief moments of carnal bliss. Why do you reject your heritage? You are not so different from us."
The question perplexed Elric.
"You have fornicated with women and indulged in lust, killed without a second of hesitation; yet you seem to believe yourself better than us. What is it that you believe separates you from the kin of Alagadda?"
"Why…? Why!?" Elric almost wanted to laugh in the hooded man's face for even asking such a question. It should have been obvious if these things he loosely classified as people had really seen parts of his life. "It's so simple that it feels almost moronic to ask. What separates me from you is while I admit to my failings—to being a killer and a borderline lecher—there was a limit for me. I may know little about you people, I have heard enough to know you border on sociopathic—making the melniboeans seem tame by comparison, but only slightly."
"Melniboneans?" the hooded man asked, raising an eyebrow beneath his crimson cloth.
"It's a…never mind, not important."
Though somewhat confused, the answer seemed to satisfy the man's curiosity; and they continued with their ritual.
Elric waited, expecting a blade to find him and eventually his throat. But one never came. Instead from the swirling mist a woman emerged with grey eyes. As he gazed at the grey-eyed woman before him in bewilderment, all Elric could think was It can't be. Now willing to believe it.
That hair…those eyes…they're just like in the pictures Lara gave me.
She looked just like his long-departed mother, Joan Belmont-Rheon. The mother he never knew.
Looking at her inspired great emotions within Elric. Emotions he preferred to bury. As she was one of the two dead loved ones in his kin whose deaths have shaped his life to such a great degree.
He did not even know what to say, initially; and was lost in the whirlwind of these perplexing emotions as his mind was reeling. Barely to ask in a muttering voice "Mother…?" as he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
"Hello, James." Joan said.
"No. You died."
"Do you not believe in miracles, James?"
"I told you." a second voice said. "He's pretty cynical. Just like father." With a second figure joining Joan's side, bearing a face Elric recognized all too well—it was his little beloved brother, Emil Rheon.
"Em…Emil?" Elric said in a gasp.
His brother, looking just as he did the day of the experiment. Young and energetic, with eyes and visage that were filled with compassion. The sight of them was more than the freelancer could handle, and tears began to trickle down his cheeks.
"This is a cruel thing to do to a man." Elric muttered. "Using the people he loves like this."
"You think we're part of some ploy?" Emil asked. "You really have gotten paranoid just father in your old age."
"Old?" Elric snapped out of his sadness for a moment. Replying in an annoyed tone with his eyes still watering "I'm only twenty-one, and I am nothing like that prick you call a father." Sounding a mite offended by the comparison.
Emil laughed.
"We are no cruel illusion." his mother assured him. "The Alagaddans promiised we could see you before the high-priest arrives and performs the ritual."
She smiled softly. Her entire being radiating kindness and love—the opposite of Lisa Thorn. Acting in a way his uncle would describe her as.
"What are they doing?"
"Preparing you."
"Preparing me?"
"For what is to come. For the return of the Mad God."
Elric found that idea thoroughly unsavory. Though the stories of Arioch were scarce, there was enough for him to know that his return would not be ideal for the world. It was already a turbulent place. With a war raging on the middle east as Europe seeming to be on track to be filled with much strife, a God of such a chaotic nature combined with the Crawling Chaos could be little more than another detrimental for humanity.
"The question is…" Emil added "What are you going to do about it?"
They then vanished in the mist. Soon after he would be approached by a man who was taller than the others. The size of the Kurgan in the Highlander.
"Ah, you must be Rheon." the man said. "My nameis Argosax."
"Hello, Argosax. My name is Elric Belmont. Why am I here?"
"You are here," Argosax explained, "So that we may show you your true self." Grabbing one side of his face. "Though, I must confess, this will require some unpleasantness." Then pain engulfed all of his being.
Feeling every sensation, every fiber of his body feeling nothing more than agony as he was forced to experience a number of images in his mind. Seeing things he adored, things he cherished, violated and victimized.
He saw Trish, Luvia, Mordred—literally anyone he cared for—being victims of brutality at his own hands. Making him want to vomit at the idea. Disgusted to his very core. Worst of all he could feel a part of his own mind fighting him on the reaction, telling him "Go with it." But Elric fought back mentally.
"Go to hell!"
Argosax smirked at his defiance. Saying "Very resilient, for a lowly human." before intensiying his magecraft.
Elric felt himself becoming lost in a sea of emotions. Sensations that were trying to ovelrflow his own will. It would have overwhelmed him if two chains had not suddenly pulled Argosax away from him.
"That shall be enough." a man's voice said. Another familiar thing which caused Elric to look up to see among his weakened vision which was gradually regaining its strength was a blond haired man and green haired man standing with a third familiar face fighting the swordsman who captured him.
"Gilgamesh…? Enkidu…? Mordred…?"
Argosax was enraged. Yelling "How dare you interfer!" before Gilgamesh launched a barrage of swords and lances with Babylon"s Gate which appeared at the Alagaddan's side and sent him flying toward the wall.
Once Mordred finished the last of her enemies, she went into mana burst to reach Elric as quick as possible—liberating the freelancer of his restraints.
"Thanks." Elric said. Rubbing his wrists and tearing away what pieces of the ropes were still hanging onto him. Looking to the King of Heroes and Chain of Heaven. "All of you."
"We would have arrived sooner, but our advent received quite the reception." Gilgamesh said. Focused on Alagaddan he attacked as the parasite was regaining his footing whilst the other hooded cultists fled out the door of the spire. "Who is this, Belmont?"
"Calls himself Argosax." Elric answered as he joined Gil's side. With Enkidu on the other.
Mordred stood beside her master to ask "How did they get you here?" Admittedly a little disappointed by the idea her master would willingly come along with his capturers to this place.
Elric proceeded to explain "I didn't have Knall…and for some reason I can't summo Bleidd or any of my other weapons." Demonstrating the issue with his hand—making the gesture typically followed by the runeblade only for the black sword to fail at appearing.
"The hell…?"
They then looked to Argosax who was fully back on his feet. Snarling at them like a enraged dog.
"Let's go." Mordred said, grabbing Elric by the wrist as Gilgamesh pinned Argosax to the wall with his swords and lances. Leading the freelancer back to the statue they arrived to this world beside.
Elric was instructed to touch the keystone of the statue, it was an instruction he did not hesitate to comply with. Ready to leave behind this mad world he had been brought to against his will.
He remembered little of the process to the return to the castle, only that he touched the statue's keystone and the next thing he knew was that he was awakening on the floor of the room gasping for air, seeing the Iscariots and his servants looking over him. With all of them except for Gilgamesh showing visible concern.
"Wha…what?" he tried to ask in delirium, casting his gaze around to find Luvia and Trish by Celenike whilst the Necromancer and his Uncle were looking over some journals. Who seemed to be as surprised as he was, but relieved at the same time.
He rested his head with a sigh. "Thank christ." Relieved to be back in his reality—away from that horrible city.
"Elric!" Luvia and Tirsh both rushed him as he began rising to his feet. Though once Luvia realized Trish was hugging him as well she looked at the red head bitterly.
Kairi could merely smirk in amusement; finding some entertainment in the situation. As did Richter. Celenike seemed to be jealous, but only slightly. Gilgamesh was indifferent—to him multiple women in one man's life was likely not so much of an oddity. Enkidu seemed to be happy for the three of them. The Iscariots were more judgemental about the whole thing, with Clitus less so—or attempting to be—while Liliana seemed more disapproving about such a thing (with some other, less identifiable emotions present on her visage). And Mordred was merely happy that her master was back in one piece.
Elric hugged them both in return, happy to be liberated from that horrid realm, but once the two released their grip on the freelancer he heard a voice say "Ah'legeth." (Fool.).
The entire group looked to the keystone, and to their collective shock a figure emerged from it with an infuriated expression. It was Argosax. His robes still bloodied from the injuries which Gilgamesh had given him.
Saying with great fury "Ymg' ephaisuffer llll fahf!" (You will suffer for this!) as he pointed at Elric.
It was no comprehencible language Belmont had ever heard spoken aloud by people in the real world—reminding him of those to be found in the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. He could only suppose that this was a result of the Alagaddan being in their reality. That in their city the laws of reality were more flexible and were able to be bent in some measure, chief among them being the spoken tongue.
He was only able to guess by the fact that '-suffer' was the only word he could comprehend that his enemy was angry with the freelancer's escape and wished to retaliate upon him.
It was a suspicion which would be confirmed, as the Alagaddan summoned a sword to his hand from flames. A blade which was twisted and grotesque, possessing a handle which appeared as if it had been crafted from human bones.
Liliana struck Argosax as he approached. As did Clitus. Stark was deflected and sent flying to the other side of the room. With her mentor not a concern, the Alagaddan then cast his gaze upon the younger Iscariot.
They exchanged blows, but Argosax naturally outperformed her. Ending with Liliana losing both of her bayonets and being thrown to the floor, and the Alagaddan bringing down his sword to end her.
Liliana watched the blade come down, intended to strike her head, and time seemed to slow for her. Expecting everything to go black any second before a black blade came between the Iscariot and her appointment with death.
"Now, now." her savior said. She and Argosaw looked to see Elric standing there, holding Bleidd casually. Asking condescendingly "Is that any way to treat a lady?"
"Ymg' mgvulgtlagln!" (Damn you!) Argosax hissed, turning all his anger onto the freelancer, sending a flurry of blows to Elric but all of which he would either dodge or parry; and Elric did all with a smirk—happy to finally have the chance to get back at the Alagaddan for what he and his compatriots forced him to endure.
Mordred swiftly joined her master. Exchanging blows with Argosax. Compounding blow after blow, she and Elric winded down their enemy's strength before they ended up gravely wounding him.
With their adversary on the ground, bleeding profusely, he looked to Fairbank. Asking "You okay?"
The question seemed to baffle the Iscariot, but she managed to work out an answer in the form of a head nod.
Looking back to Argosax, still bleeding on the floor.
"It must vex you something fierce, being bested by us." Elric laughed, looking down at the Alagaddan. Resting Bleidd on his shoulder in a gesture intended as an insult. "By a pair of lowly humans."
"B'cloq vyl'tok!" (Heretical half-breed!) Argosax groaned and snarled as it pressed its hands against the wounds Elric inflicted upon it. "Grull yek'lob!" (You traitor!)
Yeah?" Elric could not understand a word of it, but then again he did not really need to in order to get the message. Quickly bringing Bleidd down to impale the daemon with little forethought. "Well fuck you, too."
As the monster drew its final breath, it muttered words that Elric could understand. "We…will…collect you…"
