The people don't know what truth is, they only think they do. Their truth is whatever somebody tells them to believe whether it be out of a phone or a mouth, they both hear the same drivel.
-Caesar El, Diabo
ALNUS BASE
The sky was but a dull grey as Herm looked out of the window, his head lolled over like some fisherman on a lazy day. The jeep he was in rode along, sputtering the freshly cut grass road behind it. Next to him, Arthur rode looking at the vast expanse of the world. Two men sat behind them both, dressed similarly to the man in black, though they were without words.
The astonishment on Herm's face was unmistakable as they traveled further into the camp, past checkpoints, tanks under low camo nets, and the men dressed in a similar pattern to that all about the place. Soldiers no doubt, no doubt at all.
There were wire-mesh barriers guarding the small slice of otherworld encampment like building blocks. Herm thought them strange in appearance, though he thought that of everything related to this advanced army.
Snow was piled up and away from where the men made their lodgings in tents and away from the motor pool of all the vehicles they'd stationed. Sitting up, Herm looked on all of this and scratched a full blonde beard he'd worked on since his capture.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Arthur said. He was wearing sunshades but Herm could always feel the man's eyes on him, even when he was driving. He spoke to him in his own native tongue, English. Herm had spent a good few months grasping it, though his inexperience with the language was evident whenever he spoke.
"Do they really matter to you?" Herm answered, not looking at him. It was these words that made Arthur look over at him, then he glanced back.
"Guess not...if you're thinking we'll be staying here, you'd be right but for a week at most. We're winning...America and Japan are winning pretty handily."
"The less time I spend walking on the graves of my fellow man, the better."
"Well..." Arthur tilted his head a bit, "never took you for a guy who gave a damn about anything besides your own nobility."
Herm finally looked at him, "Believe it or not, I have decency in my soul." He glanced out to the camp again, "Those men...the Japanese and Americans soldiers, correct?"
"True enough, though I wouldn't go and call them that."
"Why not?" his brows furrowed with confusion, "what difference is there?"
"Plenty. The Japanese are a self-defense force, and the Marines...well they're distinguished. Their training puts them just a step above the rest, plus, they're a part of the "marine corps," and not the army if you want to get all technical."
Herm looked at him again, "I'm not so sure I understand."
"How do you mean?"
"Let's talk hypothetically."
"Sure."
"Are these men not troops wishing to conquer the Empire and hold Molt responsible for what he ordered?"
He paused for a moment, "Since this is a hypothetical, and you and I are buds. Yes."
"Then what makes them different from soldiers?"
"It's more complicated than you think."
Herm thought this over for a moment, then answered, "Perhaps. We had many titles for ranks and specialty cases, among other things. Even still, we were all soldiers, I am called a knight and still proud to be one. But I know what I am, and they should too."
"That being?"
"That whether an SDF, a Marine, or a Knight, we are all soldiers who ordained by a government to kill whatever that government ordains."
Arthur looked at him, then he looked at the two men in the back, then Herm again, "You're a hell of a guy at philosophy. Anyways, they wouldn't be here if a certain couple of legions didn't go and kill a bunch of people. Or have you forgotten that little tidbit?"
When he said that, Herm gave him a look, "I never will."
"Good."
They'd largely kept him in a room all to himself, and here it was no different. The furnishings were pleasant enough he supposed. A bed, a bookcase, and all other amenities he'd need to survive. He'd spent most of the time doing exercises or reading. English was a language that did not come easy over these last three months but with the help from the Americans he managed.
The fort or base had few half-circular and rectangular buildings. Meant for anything you could think of. Housing, kitchens, and more. Herm was largely uninterested as they were checked at the ECP, the walls around them like a new prison in of itself. They moved through the path, weaving around the men in green. Towers stood all around the area, men standing up there like the pinnacle of an ancient tactic.
"It's called a CHU," Arthur said as the other two silently opened the door in the motor pool. Around them, men went about with tools and dirty faces. Sometimes staring at the scene and others knowing better than to have questions.
"Why do you expect me to know what that is?" Herm said, exiting the vehicle. His hands were unbound for good behavior, but the men would still be with him as a precaution.
"Get moving."
They walked through the area. Arthur in front and the other men behind him. "You're..." Herm sighed; the agent regarded him. "What is it you want from me this time...?"
"We got a little issue with some POWs, or your countrymen I suppose. Most of em are refusing medical aid, aren't talking, and boy that is not great for business especially when most of them are sick don't you agree? so what I need is for you to go in and give these guy's a kick in the pants and shape up. Easy peasy right?" he slapped Herm lightly on the back.
The marching order had allotted him to always be next to Pina. They'd gone in rows of two, him and her at the front and the others behind. The forest almost never ending on the mile's long walks in their full armor. Something slapping the back of his cuirass and Herm almost jumping out of his skin.
"For god's sake Norma!" Herm yelled turning back to the boy who'd just put down his free arm. Desperately, he feigned a look of confusion.
"What? I did nothing, tell him Bozes," the girl was marching next to him and when he said that she looked at him, and just shook her head and sighed.
"Shut up back there," Grey said as he led all of them, "or I'll make both of you run round the school for a fortnight when we return." He was already beginning too bald.
Herm thought they were all somewhere around seventeen then, yes, at the very least they were. They were camping for a week in the start of a clear spring. It was cool on them, even in all of their armor as they marched with horses carrying their essentials, Panache and Hamilton guiding the animals along like whisperers.
"Welcome home kid," one of the MP's said as he shut the barbed wire topped fence behind him. Large HESCO barriers and wired fences encircled the area of tents. Faces began to look from them. Saderans, just like him and not like him. A strange feeling came through his stomach and out of his mouth in the form of a breath.
Arthur stood behind him, the two men and a couple MP's watching. Herm regarded him, "You couldn't find someone better for this?"
"Huh?"
"I don't know who they are, as do they not know of me."
"They'll listen. All we want is for them to cooperate kid."
"Sure," he sighed, "you had best remember our deal."
"Course. I'll be in touch with you soon. Gotta few other pots brewing around here. Don't worry about staying for too long, for now, try and enjoy yourself."
He was soon gone after a goodbye and wave. Some of the men from inside the tents began walking out. All dressed in long shirts and long pants. Most were human, though some were demi-humans like a goblin smoking a cigarette and leaning on the doorway of the middle tent. The tents themselves were long and half-octagon shaped with windows and doors. He wondered how it would compare to the camping of old.
The military police were surrounding the area. Covering most parts of the fence and holding their rifles close to their chests. Most watched them, others looked away.
Four men made the effort to actually approach him. They were all afflicted with bodily injuries. Reflexively, Herm patted his own shin, thinking about the scar from the bone cutting it.
"To come alone, brave of you, but foolish." the apparent leader of them said. His hair was jet black and he was slouched over slightly, allowing the sight of a bandaged gunshot wound that'd graced his shoulder with its presence in the past
Herm stared at him. He was older than the rest present. A group, a dozen or so was starting to form behind him.
"Do not think we'll go quietly; we may be hurt but we are many and-"
He spoke in Saderan, the first time he'd done so in a while, "I am not one of them."
This silenced most of them, some looked at each other and some at him, "You...speak our language?"
"No."
"What?"
"No, I do not."
"...A smartass hm?"
Herm surveyed them. It was almost like there was an invisible wall between all of them, one that could not be broken through with such trivial tools as a hammer or axe. He then took a small bow and introduced himself then said, "Why have you been refusing their help?"
"Why would we not?" one said. He was missing several fingers as he put what was left of his hand into a ball, "what honor is there in siding with the heathen? if you were Saderan, you would know boy."
Herm stepped closer to them, "I understand you have all been wronged. But these Barbarians are..." he was tapping his foot against the ground. "They shall not kill you, or make you into slaves, nor will they even force you to fight against the Empire."
"What are you doing right now?" the eldest said.
Herm shook his head, "I am trying to save our lives."
"Save us? look around you boy. This land lays over the thousands of the dead, slaughtered like dogs by them." He pointed a finger around the area, "and they laugh about it. They think themselves superior in all facets. The fact you defend them-"
"I am not. Defending any of them. I want our people to stop dying!"
"Maybe dying off is better than accepting their rule!"
This silenced Herm. It silenced all of them. The man had tears in his eyes but no falter in his voice, "This is your fault! you, the knights, the senate, the Emperor! countless dead, and for what? what? do you think you're superior because you're their favorite lap dog?! don't make me laugh! aren't you angry for what they've done?!"
"Every day..." Herm wasn't able to look at any of them. "But...we drew first swords against them, we-"
"We!?" he looked to one of the men with a cast on his arm, "this boy here? from a village on the borders of the west! look to my right! three men here all northerners with no ties to the Empire! did they decide to send men through that godsforsaken GATE?"
"Just because you don't partake does not mean you are apart! why can't you see the light at the end of the tunnel? work with them, not against them. You may prevent more death."
"We were dead as soon as whatever god decided that GATE should be opened. You should've perished with the rest at wherever hellish place you fought over there."
"Be ready to kill and be ready too..." Norma nodded his head along in thought as he tried to finish the words. The two were in a shared tent cleaning their cuirasses with wet rags and sitting on stools wearing linen shirts.
"Be ready to die," Herm finished plainly.
"I was going to say that," Norma said quickly.
"No, you weren't," Herm snided.
Norma dunked his rag into a nearby bucket of soapy water, "Wow..." he made a fake shocked face, "you're so good at reciting the tenants, oh lord Herm!" he started swaying back and forth and made a dreamy face, "please take me!"
Herm shushed him, "Shut up you idiot, don't let the others hear you."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure they'll get us with such acts as," he puffed up his thin face into a pout and started shaking his arms up and down, "this!"
"Pina?"
"Bozes."
The two chuckled, Herm dunked his rag and resumed the washing. "Try and remember the tenant's man, otherwise Grey might make you attach bricks to your spear."
"That last one's pretty important, I guess."
"Very."
"Would you?"
"Huh?"
"Would you die? I mean, are you ready to die and kill? sayings...easy, but doing..." he rubbed his arm and flipped his ponytail over his shoulder.
"Of course I am, we all know what being a knight means after all."
Norma nodded solemnly, then smiled, "Yeah, suppose we'd better enjoy the present then. I'll start by taking Bozes into the woods and-"
"Shut up."
The fence gate closed behind, and Herm shrugged his shoulders as the cold was getting to him. "What'd they say?" one of the MP's asked. Herm didn't answer him.
When Arthur finally came after an hour of waiting, Herm met him and looked back before speaking. The prisoners were all outside their housing, some looking at him, and some not.
"So we have our problem fixed?" Arthur said.
"I can't help them," Herm answered.
The agents face drooped, and he looked at the fence and then Herm, "Why not?"
"Guess."
Arthur seemed strange, and he seemed annoyed. "Well, there's always tomorrow. They'll come around kid, they always do. You did after all, eh?"
Herm almost killed him then.
The Imperial Palace
The corset wound tight over the blue dress Tyuule wore, a servant tying all of its strings behind her as she held up her arms. "You..." the woman huffed, "will catch all the looks today darling..." the servant wound another string, and an unexpected breath escaped her.
"I'm not after that," Tyuule said as another servant brushed make-up under her eyelids. They were all in a room made and personalized for her. It had the usual furnishings, bed with drapes, decorative windows allowing light in, and the stool she sat on currently as she was harangued by the two old women. In the first few months, she would fight them, her protests to dress and clean herself falling on deaf ears.
"A positive shining jewel," the other one said. Both were twin orcs raised as the daughters of servants before them, both with an unyielding loyalty to the only city and Empire they knew. They stood with dark green skin and broad faces over her.
As the orcress doing her make-up moved to her cheeks Tyuule said, "The entire senate will be here, correct?"
"Indeed milady, tis why you must look your best," the orcress behind her said and tightened another string, "gained a...bit of weight haven't you?"
"What?"
"Never you mind, from what I know it concerns what to do about that business in Alnus. Horrific, downright, horrific the tales from that cursed place."
Tyuule glanced back over her shoulder, her pale face with half the make-up like some unfinished painting. She was a small and slender creature, her features human enough, long white hair, two ruby-red eyes, but the tell-tale giveaway was the long ears of a rabbit made obvious to anyone with vision. "I was not finished milady!" the other orcress protested.
"I have heard...a catastrophic defeat was it not?" Tyuule said turning to the front impatient orcress who quickly resumed her work. "That explains the suddenness of this day."
"So much death in such little time, what a tragedy," the orcress said.
The twin in front of her nodded, "And these bandits, oh and my dear there is plague among the countryside if that was not awful enough."
"Those brigands have wrought anger from Emroy for their betrayal. Fools the lot of them, do they care not about the wrath of a god?"
"Oh, I'm sure they'll care rather shortly."
The two went on speaking. Tyuule at this point had trained herself to drown out the conversations the two would babble on about normally, but she was certainly listening here.
"And they've been harassing Italica as of late. Bold, aren't they?"
"Replace bold with 'slow in the minded,' and I would agree sister. What do you think milady?" the sister in front of Tyuule asked, looking down at her.
"Nothing...I suppose..."
The orcress shook her finger, "Save the act for the men milady, this is a safe place for all of us."
"You must be thinking of him," the other said behind her, "even if his return is imminent, I hear he has taken another wound in battle."
Tyuule's hand, which was grasped upon her knee already, tightened its grip. "Sister," the orcress sister said looking over Tyuule, "do not peek in her life like that."
"She does not mind, do you milady?" the orcress had begun to comb her hair, a task that would take a while as the snow-white hair reached down to Tyuules lower back.
"I..." Tyuule huffed, "I am thinking of many things, he is involved yes, but might I ask you two to speak of something else? there is...much to my mind currently."
"By all means milady," the makeup orcress said before her sister could get a word in. "Speaking of Italica, the Tyueli family, they were to visit there but they've up and vanished."
"Did they?" Tyuule said.
"All of them, the senator, lady, and... oh my heart breaks for that little girl. She was such a sweet thing at the family's last visit, wasn't she? I pray for their safe return but...I can only guess with all the horror over there as to their fate."
The two spoke further, but Tyuule was not truly listening.
In the old life back home in the east, she ran through the flat plains, the sun on the horizon like a peaking child. Her brother behind her, always so slow yet his strength made up for it. A group would be with them usually, spears in hand they would forage the land as their ancestors had for generations.
They would move and hunt with the mammoths, massive creatures with strength that seemed immeasurable. But she and her breathren were quicker. In that life, the whole world was her enemy, and when one of them was caught, they would be killed. But first, they had to be caught, for her people were quicker than any being on the mortal realm.
"All done milady."
Tyuule blinked. The two orcresses stood in front of her, holding a mirror to her face. Her hair was braided, and the tail was settled upon her shoulder, and her lower eyelids were painted a bright red to match the color of her eyes along with a few other apparent necessary cosmetic changes, such as her head covering hiding her ears.
"It...is good, thank you both..." Tyuule said. She stood up and allowed them to place a simple dress over her head, once having fought the idea of it, but now it was more than a part of her life.
"I'd call this our finest work yet!" the orc clapped her hands cheerily. The other simply gave a proud smile.
Tyuule gave a small bow, "You may leave now, I must...gather my thoughts if you two do not mind."
"By all means milady." The two sisters bowed in unison, so perfectly aligned that it was almost unsettling, then they went to the wooden door and opened it, the hinges creaking, and stepped out into the palace halls. Shutting the door behind them.
Tyuule sighed, her chest sinking in. There was a sitting chair next to a desk in the far corner of the room. She did so, flipping her braid over her shoulder. In these moments, she sometimes felt a comforting hand touching her shoulder.
She hid in the trees as Mother searched for her through the forest. Hiding her small giggles as she searched for her, calling her name and laughing too. Tyuule stood behind a small wall of leaves above a massive branch. When she heard him getting closer, she jumped down.
A pair of gentle hands caught her in an instant, and swung her around like some ragdoll, "Mama! how did you know?" the girl cried cheerfully. The Mother wore the skins of leopards and the skins of a mammoth as a cloak that covered her whole body. Her dreams were filled with memories such as these, of a life which could not be put back together, never right again.
The fires burned bright the night they came. Tyuule had not seen it, but she'd heard about it. The others, they wished to fight even still as their crops were burned and themselves routed like herds of cattle.
They were stood in a large yurt, and they watched Tyuule with dark eyes shining from the fires. "My lady, they come for our men and children!" one said to her, "reason is something they will not see!"
"This is the fault of the western tribes! what in Huntress name did they think would happen? violating the men and boys of Sadera's ilk?! now we must pay their toll!"
The speakers were women of fortune, leaders of many warriors. To Tyuule, even now, they appear to be so.
"Our fault? let us talk faults then, if the tribes had come together to fight, we would've had the Empire at their knees!"
"Really? and just who has lost three-quarters of their tribe you savage-"
"Enough!" Tyuule called placing her hands out to them. They all looked over at her, "Enough. This matter is all of ours. You are wrong Delilah," she pointed a finger to a young woman covered ritualistically in the blood of humans, "this war, if it is continued it shall spell the doom of us all. Fighting...that is the cowards way, we must negotiate terms before it is too late."
"That is slave talk!" Delilah yelled at her.
"Is your talk of a glorious death at their hands any better than what I have proposed?"
Delilah said nothing, but even in the small light the fire provided, she could be seen shivering with rage.
"I will go unto them without a spear or bow myself, you are to all gather what remains and disperse into the east mountains in case of my failure. If this is my first and last order as your Queen..." her voice was hoarse, "be cunning, be brave, and never be caught!"
As she reflected, her ear suddenly twitched, and she sat straight, "Come out now, where I can see you."
"Ears useful for something hm?" he stepped out from under her bed covered in brown rags resembling noble wear and a dark cape that swallowed up his disgusting body as some bastardization of a toga.
"Get up you fool," she said.
He rised, his round sickly green face covered in dark smears. His pig snout sniffed, "dolled up for senate I see," the ears on his head were like horns and they bent forward at her. His right eye had a growth covering it, blinding him there, the other was dark and shined yellow.
Her nose crinkled, "You look and smell like sin, Bouro."
"Front door locked, sewers not."
She crossed her arms together and looked at him, "So it would seem, were you spotted?"
"No."
"Are you certain? things are...tense around here."
Bouro's pig snout snorted, "If was seen, would be dead." He sniffed something. His eyeball glanced around everywhere as if searching, "should have food at least, travel was arduous, especially with security doubled."
"Answer me."
"Why so paranoid Queen? scared that big strong man isn't here to give you a hug-"
"Be silent."
"Hm," Bouro sat on a large velveteen cushioned chair in the center of the room, his face shining with whatever it was he'd been rolling around in. "Got information you'd want to know."
Her red eyes intensified, "and what exactly is that?"
Bouro stared at her. It was as if he were measuring, studying, like a predator sizing its prey up before it pounced. After a moment, he rubbed his greasy black hair back and leaned forward with his hands pressed together, "Queen has proven herself a good little bunny, so honesty will be given in return."
She waited.
"A certain group of people came to me, a very special kind of people speaking a strange language with strange ideas. One of these is offering their support towards my kind."
"Whom?" Tyuule asked.
"Their true names, not important. But you should know, infiltrated Italica and will soon do the same to the capital."
Her eyes opened wide, "What?"
"Fight by stealth, minimize deaths, have to admit, like their way of doing things. Men after my own heart."
"Minimize..." she shook her head, "are you serious?" she stormed up to him, "you of all people have contacted these...ah what were they called?" Tyuule thought for a moment.
"Men in green, but they prefer...Americans and Japanese."
"Americans and Japanese..." Tyuule repeated, "what strange names."
"Thought it sounded stupid, didn't say. They have awful chip on shoulder, slaughter a few of their tribe and they turn entire country into hell on earth."
Tyuule stared at him again, "Bouro, what are you trying to say?"
"Listen to me very, very close Queen," and he began to explain to her the very intricate details about these strange and powerful people that would set her path for the rest of her life.
The Senate Headquarters-Meeting Arena
Molt sat in the highest chair, looking down at them all. His hand stroked his beard as Senator Palesti, a strong golden grey-haired man of fifty, made his case in the middle of the stand.
"This war has brought what?" he said, a fist raised to the dozens of other senators seated in the stands around him, "we have no gains, a rebellion, and a plague on our hands. All of this in a mere three months!"
Some murmurs, some silent, Molt stared, plain faced. 'What a fool.'
"Your Highness," Palesti held his hands out in an almost begging way, "I bid to attempt negotiations with these "men in green," my reasons for this are simple. They are human, thus capable of reason. They have constructed a city to rival the very heart of Sadera's, thus they must be a fellow Empire and not a barbaric tribe bent on pure destruction."
"That's slave talk!" called a voice in the crowd.
"Perhaps," he held up a finger, "but it either this or we send more towards the slaughter. Need I all remind you again of our issues? assassinations and disappearances are running amok in the political landscape; we need not give more of a reason for the people to support the deaths of us all. It is either we live to see another day or be all dead within the year!"
Some jeered him as he stopped, all however waited for the Emperor's response. He was a man who'd been at the post for nearly all his life. Crowned at seventeen with a reign spanning forty-odd years. He ceased stroking his beard and stood to speak to all.
"What Sir Palesti has said is not unfounded in fact. Our precious Sadera is under a heavy threat from the mongrel dogs beyond the Gate. And with all the added problems in the country, this could indeed spiral into something uncouth. But...my old friend, I am disappointed. Were you and your family not in favor of my decision to send troops into these Barbarian lands?" Molt rubbed his beard, as if deep in thought.
The senator glanced about, "That...has nothing to do with the situation at hand. Count Formal, Lord Hamish, and countless kings lay dead at the feet of these savages. They have proven themselves unfeeling in whomever they slaughter, reason is the only-"
"Is the coward's way out," Molt finished shaking his head.
"I request to finish your highness-"
"You have said quite enough. All of you have said quite enough," he began looking at particular men who'd all been shouting in agreeance with the senator, "such supporters of war you are when the gain is without cost...Lord Caty, Marquis Igloo, and Sir Ror. I believe I know the reason why so many of you are desperate for this war to end."
The men looked at each other, it was an elephant which all of them had wanted to bring to the conversation. The road to Italica
"My daughter, and her knights...your daughters have been sent just a week's travel from Alnus to, is that it?"
"My...Y-Your highness," Senator Palesti said, rubbing his forehead of sweat, "my reasons are entirely for the future of the Empire and..."
"And your daughter. Sit down Senator, you have had more than enough time to state your case."
"Your highness-"
"Now."
The nobleman stared for a moment, then turned, and went back to his seat.
Molt surveyed them all for a few seconds. He did so as if he were taking something in. With his hands behind his back, he began to stride back and forth from his chair, "It seems a great deal of you agree to the end of the war, and it also seems a few agree to the idea to regroup our forces and send out a legion to take back Alnus."
He stopped and sat back down in his chair. Slowly, he took a long sip of wine that'd been placed close to the bottom side along with a bottle which a servant would refill whenever he emptied the glass. Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, Molt continued, "These two arguments, are wrong."
This elicited some wonders from the lot of the senate, but they died when the Emperor continued, "These bandits and brigands will provide more of a distraction upon the forces that first threatened us, the two sides simply could not coexist with each other. During that time, we shall strengthen Italica's and our own defenses and starve the fools out. By no means can they survive a siege when everything around them is burnt to the ground and stolen." It was a fine enough claim, one that would buy him a few extra precious weeks, perhaps even a month.
"Suppose an alliance between the two?" the question was boldly suggested by Senator Igloo. He'd stood up in his seat. The other senators tried to stop him before he spoke, but it fell on deaf ears.
"A silly question Marquis. I understand the concern for your son; however, the fact of the matter is this issue will sort itself before we need deal with it."
"You..." the Marquis sucked in a breath, "Your Highness, when the enemy sends their women. It is usually a sign that they will not be the victor."
"Really?" Molt said with fake surprise, "shan't we inform the bunny folk of that, or need I remind you of the blunders in that war? then again, coming from one with a son such as yours, I expect such drivel."
"Y-Your son headed the defense of Alnus did he not?!" Igloo pointed a accusatory finger at Molt.
Molt almost had him killed there.
He smiled, "My son has headed many defenses, and many offenses, a great investment he is. But not everything is perfect. Tell me, has your son led men into battle and won many at that? or is he too busy chasing the skirts of women?"
The Marquis made a funny noise in his throat. Some of the men stared at him, and some stared at Molt.
"Gentlemen, when it comes to my children, I treat them no different than a plebian when it comes to the matters of the Empire. I very well expect you to do the same."
He flicked his hand, "back to the tasks at hand, my other son and the good praetorian seek to investigate the matter of political assassinations and disappearances so never fear. As for this war of ours, we have taken a hefty loss, however, the Empire has faced opponents like these in the past. These fools are nothing to us, as are that so-called army of brigands. We shall doubly resupply, and gift new troops for our depleted country forces. Do not fret, for the Empire shall see this through yet."
Later on, he watched all of them leaving and speaking to one another from a window. Seeing their faces as they driveled on about the current events. It made him grit his teeth and squeeze the glass of wine until it was dangerously close to breaking. He couldn't wait, couldn't wait for the looks on their faces as he took his rightful place.
Emroy had come to him, long ago under a form unknowable and incomprehensible. In a dream.
He walked through the courtyard of the palace, bare feet and without his crown or sword. Left completely defenseless as he came to the middle grassy area, a large patch of which was completely burnt to black. At first, he wondered how it'd stayed like this for so long, then he glanced to his side and saw his Empress burnt body sitting on a chair of thorns. A young boy with blonde hair sitting next to her as the Empress, completely silent along with her and Molt's firstborn, watched him.
"Are you lost?" she said to him. The odd part of it was her speaking, every time he would see the world around him shake. It confused him at first, but he'd soon understand why.
"No. Why are you here?" he said.
"Why are you here? son of Sadera."
The voice was behind him, he turned, and he saw a vast sea of infinites. As if he were standing on the ballroom of eternity in the ocean of infinite nothingness and totalness. Towering over Molt was a massive throne in a color of a spectrum which he could not and would not comprehend. The sheer presence of it all threatened to claw away his sanity in one mere stroke.
Sitting atop the structure, was a man and not a man. Wearing clothes Molt did not recognize. The creature's face was strange, almost waxlike and shifting. As if it did not know what it wanted to be.
"You seem to have invaded my quarters," its voice was echoing, but there were no walls around them. "I take it the first Emperor did not gift his descendants his manners. Do you not know who I am?"
Molt's mouth hung. He stared forward like a stricken child beneath the eyeful glare of its father. "Oh..." he held his hands up, "yes...yes your holiness. I know of you." He took a step forward and fell to his knees. The first time he'd ever done so.
"And I know of you. Emperor Molt. But now is no time for worship. We must speak now."
"Your holiness?"
"You were chosen for a reason child. Do stand, for the time we have together is little and I have words that you must listen and resonate."
"Y-Yes..." he stood fast. He could practically hear his heart beating in his chest as he felt his feet sinking into the ground beneath him.
"Long you have lived for a mortal. Long indeed. You have conquered, you have killed, all in the name of your Empire, and in the name of myself." He wasn't able to tell, but the old man thought the creature was smiling behind the substance that made up its face. "And I have taken notice. You have done well in the art of war. I'd call you one of the last."
"The last?"
"The last of the true. Of the men who love war in themselves and others. For what greater enjoyment is there? none. You know this, do you not? you felt it rushing through you. Every conquest, every victory, and even the losses. It is a magnificent feeling, no?"
Molt heard this. But he did not say anything in response. He looked down. Down at his hands. They were almost glistening with blood.
"Do not look away, there are no falsehoods or excuses here. Neither are they required. For I admire your tenacity," Emroy pointed what Molt thought was a waxy finger with nails as sharp and as long as daggers. "I know...exactly what you are, so do not look away from me."
"If one stares into the abyss, does the abyss not stare back?" Molt paused and glanced up and blinked. They were in the palace courtyard. Trees of green leaves collected from every corner of the Empire's reach had been planted there for centuries. The gold peaks of the palace and its surrounding buildings dwarfed even them, however. "My lord?"
He came around Molt, in the dress of a praetorian and a face that was unknown to him. "Memories are a...fickle thing are they not?"
"What is this?" the trees and plants seemed several times larger than they'd usually be.
"Do you not recall your childhood? you made games here amongst the gardens. Beautiful...aren't they?" He picked one of the sunflowers nearby and handed it to him. Molt took it.
"It is...difficult to remember..."
"Oh, but I am sure you do...especially her..."
Molt's hand squeezed on the petal. He looked over to Emroy and he was not in the sunny gardens anymore. No, he was at its center. The day was grey, but no rain. The cold was not an issue for the fire that burned upon the hill warmed him. Her screams filled his ears as they all watched: He, the guards, and his son.
The boy, crying and begging his father to stop as he pulled and tugged against Molt's grip. There was a snap not from the fire, and the boy was screaming on the ground and holding an arm that was now crooked and sideways. On the ground, like a dog. Yes, always a cursed mutt.
"She betrayed me," Molt murmured as Emroy placed a hand on his back. "Betrayed our children, and the...Empire."
"Betrayal is the greatest of crimes," Emroy added. "The people celebrated her demise, rightly so. It pauses me to wonder, however, why your firstborn?"
"A lesson, a lesson..." Molt wasn't looking at him in the eyes when he said that. "None would defy me like that ever again. I had to show my strength if he were to learn. Such a pompous and arrogant boy in his youth, he only ever listened to his mother. After this day, however, he always listened."
"How ruthless!" Emroy proclaimed. "What of your younger children?"
"What of them?"
Emroy seemed surprised by this.
"Your Holyness," Molt turned to face him. "What exactly-" and he was not there, but up. Back on his throne. "Is...the purpose of this?"
"A deal of course!" its face was wax again and there were many hands sprouted out of him. Some holding swords, some spears, and items which Molt knew were weapons, but he did not know what they were, nor could he comprehend. "Tell me, what is your greatest fear?"
"I am sure you have that knowledge yourself."
"Of course, I only wish to hear it from your mouth." Its hands were ever rotating, like a wheel almost.
Molt took some time before answering, "The loss of power."
"Ah yes, with age everything grows to decay in the mortal world. You have felt it have you not?"
Molt nodded, "The aches in my wrists, and the slowing of my mind."
"I..." It sprouted an arm down at him. Molt took a step back. There was a bottle of a red liquid in his hands. "Am aware."
"Is this...?"
"Your search for it took many expeditions across the continent to their graves did they not? even tribes. Very tenacious."
Molt reached out, but Emroy took it away before he could even lift his arm, "However, do not think I will simply give this away. There are...terms."
"Anything..."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes...my whole life I have wished for it."
Emroy's head slowly nodded, "Very well. Heed my words. There will soon be a nation that your Empire must fight. A war with another world. Their strength is greater than anything you may conceive. It will allow me sacrifices on a scale unimaginable, from theirs and yours."
Molt nodded.
Notes: Two months, I know it's been two months. I took a break in September to work on some other stuff which if you want check it out I even started another gate fic. Also, first time writing Tyuule which I'm very happy about so if the reception to her is bad I'll smash my head into my desk and cry blood. The whole flashback thing was originally reserved for her actually but I decided to do it with Herm too. If it's annoying or confusing just tell me in reviews or dm me and I'll try and fix whatever the issue is.
Glad to be posting my main again, and thanks for reading.