Owain waved once more to the crowds, glad to have his visor to block his stoney face. He sighed. Ofnir's assassin had almost slain him, how disgraceful! He'd known something was off by her scent, by the way she moved, the way she spoke. Never did he raise his guard with Ranni, however, so that woman had been able to strike at him unhindered. Ranni seemed to think Ofnir knew the woman likely would fail, which only infuriated Owain further.
The rat thought to make him mistrust even the sight of his wife? Fie! Such low attempts would not rattle him. Owain simply could not die. It would…all would crumble, after just having started being rebuilt. Ranni would throw the lands into chaos unseen just to bring him once more to life, no, he must not die.
Owain was out of the office today. He toured the city, needing to see its state for himself more closely. The lingering scars of a century of neglect marred both the buildings and the people, but at least the living seemed to be recovering swiftly. He was making a slow circuit of the upper city, which had taken him and Aldo most of the morning. It was delicate going, Osgalath could hardly part the crowds, such was their fervor.
Most of the populace he saw were women of grown age. It was a sobering reminder, the men had spent so long warring that relatively few of them remained. Owain had finally found time to take conference with a frail looking Kuno and the news was grim. Where once the golden city had boasted a populace of nigh ten million, three million remained. Where once men and women made up equal parts of the citizenry, it was now almost two women for every man. Through streets where children once ran in large numbers, Owain saw perhaps one for every hundred adults. He waved once more confidently to the crowds, that they might take comfort in his presence, the loud and passionate response was immediate.
Stability and a steady food supply would right this tragedy, but it would take many years. He would seat a willing ruler that could provide both before he retired to Caria. Morgott did not desire the throne, he had made that clear, but there was no other available that held the experience, wisdom, and power needed. A large part of him hoped his Lord Godfrey would circumvent whatever blocked his passage home, but he could not count on that dream in the meanwhile.
The thought of Caria reminded him of Radahn's letter and its…tiring contents. It seemed the Reeds prince, now emperor, was scheming again and it was the last thing Owain needed to contend with.
Wolfram numbered the fleet to be nigh a thousand ships, which likely meant their fighting force numbered in the tens of thousands. Radahn could keep them contained to their ships for only a little longer and Owain was racking his mind for a way to end this conflict before it truly began without simply dooming all the Reed soldiers to drown. Mother Rennala or Ranni could wipe them all away with relative ease, but what if Owain was wrong and they could yet broker a treaty despite the asinine requests? The immediate resources would be hugely beneficial to his long deprived people, he could not discard the Reed ruler so quickly.
He would happily write this letter of apology the emperor asked for, but he would rather rip off his own arm than try and arrange marriage between the boy and the eternal queen, even if she were not trapped with the great tree. He sighed, he'd wanted to leave his study for some fresh air, but it seemed his brooding had yet to release him from its chokehold.
This route around the city brought with it many memories. Most recently one where he carried Princess Melina in his arms as he and the queen went about the markets. He smiled at the reminder that his little princess was once more safe and sound within the palace. Though she had been rather reclusive of late. He would need to check in upon her soon.
He gasped at the unexpected memory that blinded him as he rounded a corner to one of the largest of the upper cities markets.
He must stop the sick wretch before he lost him in the coming crowd! Owain leapt from Osgalath, wings of the crucible gifting him speed and height, so that his spear would strike through stone and not citizenry. At the pinnacle of his jump, he threw his great weapon with rageful might. The dung eating craven lay skewered through the shoulder a handful of paces from the nearest marketplace, in which all activity had stopped to watch the unfolding scene.
"Osgalath! Protect!" His steed sprinted to bar the onlookers from the writhing criminal. Owain alighted beside the thing's head, boot to helm. "Struggle with what meager strength you possess, foul thing. It shall not avail you." He put increasing pressure on the malformed head piece until it began to crack. At the pig's delighted moans, he scowled in disgust.
Dark blood spread from darker armor, now that he could see it in the light of day, it was to Owain's horror that he discovered the criminal had fashioned the set from the horns of crucible blessed children. He ignited his armament with holy correction, the dung eater screaming in surprise as his flesh broiled.
"I mu-mu-must defile! I've a job to do, golden hound. Let me have-" Owain twisted his spear, shearing the man's arm from his body. This time, his cries were not of pleasure.
The cursed armor was brittle, poorly made. Some composite of iron and dust. It filled the sentinel with such deep hate, he could hardly think. He began to tear it off, piece by bloody piece. "For your crimes against the people of Leyndell, already would I have granted you death." Owain ripped the halves of the dreg's disgusting helm away, smashing his face into the stone beneath before the beast could begin its mewling anew. "For the grave sins you have wrought, I will give you suffering, Dung Eater. I will gift unto you, shame, horror, and profound misery.
"I must defile more, rape more. Soon, everyone will be happy and filled with my gifts. I'll have the princes-" Owain picked the man up by his fat neck, bringing his ugly face mere inches from his own. "You do not understand, scum. No satisfaction shall you find in this pain. No escape shall ever be yours to claim, save gruesome death." He clenched his hand just tight enough to stop the flow of blood, ensuring the thing was unconscious as he cast a greater heal. Owain dropped the villain in a graceless pile, nodding at the sentinels and knights that had rushed after him in his frantic chase. They formed a tightened circle around he and the wretch, while still others held back the leering populace. Owain kicked at the pile of meat before him until it stirred. "Up, Dung Eater. I've a lesson to teach."
The horrid thing scrambled to its feet, smiling viciously and drawing an unsightly serrated sword from it back. Was it made of a spine? "I am the Dung Eater! A scourge upon the living! Let me go free, let me kill more, defile each corpse with tender care." It laughed, a harsh and wheezing thing.
"You enjoy inspiring fear." Owain slammed his spear into the cobbled stone at his feet, leaning his shield against it. "I will inspire such fear in you, beast, that you might understand full well, the pain you have caused.
"Yes! My art! My purpose! They'll be cursed. Along with their children, and their children's children, for all time to come..." It rushed forward with a clumsy high slash.
Such slow movements, such sloppy footwork, truly a baseless creature. Owain caught the hilt of the swinging sword in a hand, slamming his free fist into the monster's recently healed nose. He walked forward as it tried to crawl away, dazed. "Strength enough to torment a child, wit enough to avoid my soldiers, fool enough to commit such crimes at all." he shattered the beast's sword over his knee, "I told you, Dung Eater, I've a lesson to teach."
"Away! Away! My work is unfinished!" it shrieked. It began to strike itself in the face, heedless of the gushing blood.
The commander picked it up by the crumbling chest piece, fingers full through the black metal. He heard growing cheers from the watching citizens and it made his fury grow even hotter. He'd failed his people, this craven had slain over four score of children, raped three times that number of adults, even slain ten of Owain's lesser knights. By the time Owain was made aware of its existence, far too much damage had already been done.
Soulless, unintelligent eyes glared balefully before it spat at him. Owain tore its jaw raggedly from its face with a long and wrathful roar of fury. The lesser of his knights toppled over, the watching citizens covering their ears and clinging to one another. Terror shone clear the Dung Eater's eyes, blood leaking from his ears in the aftermath, "I see it now, stinking devil, I see your fear." He slammed it once more atop the ground, thin cracks spindling forth from the impact. "What? Nothing to say?"
The enemy only gurgled at him in pitiful whines. Crawling away towards Osgalath. "Osgalath! Kick!" His righteous steed sent the sniveling evil back to Owain's feet, the last of its black armor crumbing from the impact of gold clad hooves. Dark eyes watched him, sliding about manically.
Owain crouched, raising his seal in a fist. "A tenth of it. A hundreth. There is still so much more of the despair you sewed for you to reap." When last had he felt such deep malevolence? When last had his voice dragged in such a ragged growl?
He cast a greater heal, watching stolidly as the thing's mouth reknit, as the joints unbent, pining it under a steady hand. It began to laugh, crackling and wheezing. "A few of those I crafted so tenderly will be born just like me, and they'll kill, and defile, and bless in my stead! You are a rotten fool. My fate is the grandest, most brilliant of them all!"
Owain nodded slowly. Clapping a palm to the thing's malformed face and beginning to squeeze. The Dung Eater wailed violently as its skull began to collapse. "I've not the cunning to unmake you it seems. Be not afeard, monster. There are much harsher tenders than I, they will see to this grand fate of yours." He slapped the beast hard enough to knock it silent before standing, shaking out the tension in his shoulders. Ofnir would earn his keep with this one.
Owain eye'd the anxious, huddled, crowd, scowling behind his visor, he'd let loose too much fury this day. He was his queen's righteous justice, but he need mind the spread of his fire, that he not scald the innocent. They looked upon him with terror and faith alike and it was damning. He breathed slowly before he spoke out, he must lose the growl of anger. "Let not any fear of this monster hold purchase in your hearts! The golden rampart will ever protect you! Go! About your business!"
Osgalath's steady movements brought him once more to lucidity. Owain scowled. If only that memory had stayed lost to him. It was a great and cutting shame to him, truly to the defense of Leyndell entire. The Dung Eater had made the lesser knight orders look as naught but bumbling fools, even his sentinels could not find the wretch until Owain had gone to Lord Vyke to request the Lady Lansseax' assistance in hunting their prey. The noble dragon had found their foe in but a week.
He and Aldo had made their way through only two of the lower city's districts before the sun became too low to continue. Just as he turned their retinue once more to the palace, Owain saw the shadowed forms of two ancient dragons alighting upon one of the upper terraces. He squinted, three, there were three humanoid forms now silhouetted against the dusk. They had found Lord Vyke! Owain urged Osgalath into a faster pace, thank the goddess! Good news at last! He would write to mother Rennala at once!
Rennala watched the moon. She ignored Linde's worried glances and Moongrum' weighty stare. She watched the moon, hoping it might give her the strength needed to move forward. Owain's hastily scrawled note lay discarded atop her sheets, a stifling reminder of promised duty.
She turned her face from the silvered light of her old mentor to once more frown at the letter. The lord Vyke had been found, Tricia awaited her assistance, the dragon sisters beseeched her presence. She sighed.
"My lady?" came Linde's soft inquiry.
Rennala sneered at her own weakness, "In the morn we shall make for Leyndell. Inform mine handmaidens, ready my hound, and…and sendeth for Ranni."
Linde bowed, fist to armored chest, before voicing a question, "It is quite late in Leyndell my lady, you wish for the princess' presence now?"
"Aye." Rennala said lowly.
It was scarce an hour later that her errant daughter peeked her frizzy halo of bed-mused curls passed Rennala's doorway, "Mother?"
Renalla patted her bedside, waiting for her daughter to join her before voicing a thought that had been pressing on her mind passed most others, "Hath thee spoken to thy father?"
Ranni looked away, guilt plain on her shifting face, "...No."
Rennala laid back against her pillows, pinching her brow. Nothing was ever simple, was it? "Weeks hath thee been within his walls and he has not even the courtesy to see you?"
"He is…indisposed, mother." Ranni would not look at her.
"Speak, daughter." Always was she being coddled, always was it cloying.
Ranni's eyes, a twinned shade of her own, though not so very darkened with long suffering, at last found her mother's, "I bare a secret few knoweth. The queen Marika and father both, art trapped within the Erd Tree."
Renalla gasped, "Trapped?" He was-then it was not his will to linger from her side?
Ranni fiddled with her hands, looking up at her helplessly. It brought forth countless memories of when her daughter would oft come to her for aid in magical equations, "Aye. I inspected the magic quite closely and it is beyond me mother. I hadst thought to bring it afore thee whensoever th-"
"Trapped. He has been trapped in that foul tree all this time?" She had not meant to interrupt her daughter but Rennala could not hold this revelation within.
"M-mother?"
Rennala scowled, stilling her magic before it frightened her child. "Mine eyes art blind to a truth beyond my ken, Ranni. Feel it in my bones, doth I. Some lie, some great maskin' subterfuge. I am bein' made the fool, daughter. I am no one's fool!" Her daughter flinched, she knew something, "Keep thy silence. I shall seest all bared in full soon."
"Aye." Ranni said softly before bowing her head.
Curse her temper! Curse her weak mind! Rennala brought her daughter to her chest with tender hands, "Oh, sweeting, I didst not calleth for thee to argue. I…I would not enter thy father's city alone. Strength of heart nor mind hath I to comport mineself so. I wouldst have my darling daughter at hand. If she wouldst aid me."
Ranni softened against her, the tenseness of a child waiting to be scolded giving way to a daughter who wished to be held. "Always, mama." she whispered.
Rennala was unsurprised by the tears that misted at her eyes, "Stayest by mine side this night, sweeting. Too much grief hath I bourn alone of late." Ranni nodded into her shoulder. After a few more minutes of hushed conversation, Rennala felt her daughter drift to slumber. She smiled into her princess' downy curls and for the first night in too many uncounted years, Renalla slept without grieving dreams of passed days.
Lansseax was at the end of her patience. The Carian queen had been ensconced with perfumers and her knight for days and Lansseax was beginning to grow restless past all placation. It was a divine relief to see the queen stride from the halls of healing and beckon her to her side. Lansseax almost sprinted in her haste to hear the monarch's words, "He is not fully taken by the madness. Its hold is tenuous." The queen paused in her movement to wait for Tricia, who was bidding farewell to a few of her students.
"Then, you can save him, great queen?" Lansseax asked tentatively.
Queen Renalla pursed her lips, "Perhaps. Through death and pain and much loss must he pass. To regain one's mind is no simple thing, no stair that carries ever upward. Clean nor quick wilt this be, lady dragon." Cobalt eyes snapped to her's and Lansseax shivered despite herself.
She would not be gripped by this sorrow any longer! She would be proactive in forcing her fate! "Tell me, how might I aid you?"
The queen breathed in deep as they passed to an inner courtyard, a score of sentinel's rushing to march at her back. Lansseax did not miss the subtle clenching of her jaw in annoyance, "Thy hands are ill suited for healin', and I've no need of thy power. Tricia and my skill is far enough to seeth him set upon a path of cautious stability."
"H-how will you save him?" Lansseax needed to help in this, needed to be part of what saw her husband safely to her side.
Their clanging entourage halted in surprise as the queen went to lean against a vine covered banister, admiring the flowers beneath, "Tarnished art not so…mortal as we. This malady though…it is one of soul and body, and will not be corrected by simple spell alone. His eyes. I must take them, they art the deepest root of the frenzy. His life as well, must be taken, to wind back the clock."
Lansseax must have misheard, "His eyes, his-you would kill him?"
To meet the gaze of the carian queen was unsettling. Too many shadows swirled, too much lightning arced, though her eyes softened as she spoke, "To save him, aye."
Lansseax scowled at her boots, breathing through the tumultuous emotions that would steal her sense, "I would not see him blinded in full. Take from me, one of my eyes. Set it within him, that I might help him see." Vyke's knighthood was too important to him, to rob him of his duty would kill him just as surely as a blade.
Tricia, who Lansseax had almost forgotten lingered beside them, cleared her throat, "The flesh of an ancient dragon would surely be beneficial, Renalla. An anchor to his worldly ties and her magic both."
The queen hummed, rubbing her hands together contemplatively, "Thinketh not, dost I, that it shall mend him wholly hale, but…what you offer might avail him greatly. On the morrow then, come thee afore me and we shall begin."
Lansseax grinned, unable to contain herself she rushed the startled queen into a tight embrace. "Thank you, great queen. For this boon, I am in your debt."
The queen's hands were gentle as she held her, but her voice was cold, "I will remember that, Lady Lansseax."