The Embers under the Great Tree
VI
"An agreement is acceptable with the terms you provided."
Ophelia felt both relief and surprise well up inside her, Lord Kirschtaria had agreed rather easily to the terms provided but the real problem - or so she assumed - would come from whether Maalik found them acceptable or not. From the response of Susa-il, she was truly expecting a similarly staunch rejection.
Or accusations of insults.
Except the moment it was explained to him, he just nodded his head and agreed.
"Though I would demand an additional clause be included in this deal."
Ah, there it was.
She glanced down at the screen, the small device sitting in the middle of the table, and then towards the two individuals for their reactions.
"A swift response for this deal to be signed." Brigid mused, rubbing her fingers together and then squinting her eyes at the bone mask. "Which tells me you have a term in mind."
Maalik nodded once. "In return for accepting this deal - and for allowing the deployment of my own forces in aid to whatever your governors or clan chiefs wish - I would demand that those under my command are recognised as an official faction by you."
Ophelia did not blink, but she did find herself rooted to the spot.
For that sort of demand, it was not an insignificant thing for them to ask.
Not even the Old Satan Faction was acknowledged by anyone outside of the Devils and it was only called as such by them as a means of categorising those who rejected the current path of their society. A fringe group at best, most bunched them up into the same faction as a whole and merely another group within that. For Maalik to demand that his Angels be seen as an actual separate faction from Heaven - an actual new faction in the world - was rather…
…It would establish legitimacy.
Both Dar and Birigid seemed to stop the moment he spoke the words, the pair of them shared a glance with one another which lasted for quite some time, then they looked back, faces thick with contemplation.
"A demand such as this would require the Tuatha Dé Danann to assemble and hear the reasoning. It is not something that can merely be granted with the wave of a hand. Even Lady Brigid's word, with the sway that it has, would not be enough to merely turn the entire faction with it."
"Then assemble a council." Maalik countered bluntly. "I am certain that they would still heed the call of gathering from Saint Brigid of Kildare."
"It is not something that can be called up so swiftly-"
"My presence and actions are an exception to such things." Maalik did not let her finish and continued on. "And I am not the leader of some fringe group of disgruntled Angels. Nor is Azrael a figure of low standing. I have declared open War against The Second Morning and his heathen allies. The Agents of Burial, or a majority including their leader, have taken after Azrael and now stand with me."
She could see the reaction from Brigid, the Goddess twitched ever so slightly at the mention of the Burial Agency and shifted in her seat, further away from Dar, and then leaned forwards, hands tenting as her eyes narrowed in a clear display of thought.
"All I ask is what is expected. To state there is a choice beyond the Second Morning's path of disgrace."
A brief pause, then Maalik looked between the two of them.
"Is it not the same for you? Saint Brigid of Kildare? Or you, Abbess Darlughdach? Even now, the piety of you and the Love for the Heavenly Father sings true. I shall set aside my demand for you to take up arms against the Second Morning for his heresy and instead ask for you to offer the most basic of displays."
"Saint in life I might have been." Brigid responded with a cold tone and narrowed eyes, a hint of warning entering her tone. "But here I am Goddess, in this land of green."
"A Goddess recognised by the Heavenly Father." Maalik continued on. "If you are to ask of me to offer my brothers and sisters for mere favours, then I would ask such in turn. Assemble your pagan lords, convince them to grant us what we are due, and then I shall swear an oath to provide you with what you ask."
It was a staring contest which spanned continents.
Despite being half a world away, Ophelia felt as if the two of them were right in front of one another and neither willing to back down on their point. Then, at last, there came a sharp sigh from Brigid as she rose up.
"For the Father we loved and the Father we lost." She said, pushing away from the table and looking down at the screen. Where once had been a frown there was now only some terrible face of sorrow. A deep and saddened sigh came from her, hands resting on the table, Dar reached across and entwined their grips. "...For that alone, I shall pay this cost."
"...Then I thank you, Saint Brigid of Kildare."
She could feel the way Maalik shifted his gaze and turned towards her and Susa-il.
"When their accord has been struck, brings news of this to me once more. With Azrael I shall be and with him we shall speak…And Sister?"
Susa-il stiffened and looked towards him.
"Remember you are there for the assistance to the human, not to spread my influence."
"...Yes, brother."
Maalik grunted and the screen went silent.
Ophelia wasn't sure what to think, as to her it had just sounded like Susa-il had been scolded for her actions, and in sparing a glance the way of the Angel she was greeted by a slightly downcast head and arms folded behind her back. In every way it mattered, the once aggressive Angel looked a little bit like a sulking child.
It was certainly a turn around.
"I believe that what we have said to one another ends now." Dar's words interrupted her train of thought, she looked across and found her eyes drifting between the two of them, then slowly nodded her head up and down and stood up.
To her, it felt like she was intruding on a now private moment and it left her rather unsure of how best to act beyond extracting herself as quickly as possible.
"Of course. We shall patiently await the end of your deliberations." With a sharp but respectful bow of the head, she turned and started to walk away from the table, all with the hope that they would open a door for her before she left. Which they did, rather thankfully, as the roots sprouted once more and formed the archway which had led her here in the first place.
Exiting the room, shortly followed by the others, she allowed herself a flicker of relief that they had made it through without causing any more serious problems.
But it was quickly ended by the way she remembered how she had greeted Lord Kirshctaria, raising her hands and placing them flat against her face, she sighed into her palms and paced forwards to the other side of the room, the blazing heat of the forge felt more acute than ever and localised entirely upon her face.
It was the heat of the forge, most definitely.
Nothing else.
Her hand was on the back of his shirt the second he stepped through the door, he did not fight her pull as he was dragged with such force his feet barely had time to touch the ground. The fact she was saying nothing as they moved just hammered in how upset she truly was at the moment and he could understand that.
Really, he knew she would be angry.
And he figured she would be even more upset when he explained that he didn't feel bad for doing it in the first place or wished that he had not.
They looked like they needed help.
With a small huff, he found himself spun around and then abruptly shoved backwards, hands placed hard against his shoulders and fingers curled around. Schmidt made no sound as his back was thrust into the wall with an almost menacing creek, instead he looked into the eyes of Berserker as she glared right up towards him.
She looked more angry than he had ever seen her before.
Angry and…something else.
Something he hadn't seen before…no…he had seen before, the last time he spoke with Sister Kiara before she sent him away.
Like she was…
"...You do not even regret it, do you?" Berserker asked after gathering up a breath, Schmidt slowly shook his head from side to side. He did not want to lie to her, even if it looked like she wanted the opposite answer, and did not speak. He could not find the words and even if he could, they would just make her more upset.
"...You are a foolish boy." She stated, more like announced, and pushed him further back. "A foolish, foolish boy. Do you understand, for even a moment, what is going to happen the more you keep throwing yourself forwards without any concern?"
He opened his mouth.
"Do not bother answering." She hissed and he snapped his mouth shut. "Because I already know…Because you're just like him."
Wincing a little, his eyes tracked down to where she was holding him and her hands were pushing further and further, fingers curling tighter and tighter. At this point, it was starting to hurt him, as well as the discomforting angle that his wings had been forced into, folding around his body.
"Always so eager to run away and get yourself killed, to meddle where you have no business in the first place."
Berserker continued onwards, drawing in a sharp breath.
"Do you even understand-no, I will not bother asking such a simple question because the answer is obvious. Even if you did understand, you would just go and do it all again. My words of warning would be no more than a mere breeze floating through that empty head of yours, wouldn't they?"
He…felt a little sad about that remark, more about the way she was speaking.
Schmidt felt his brows twitch and his lip drop down ever so slightly. "...She just looked like she needed help-"
"Oh, I am sure she did." Berserker growled. "And I am certain that is the excuse you shall use for when the next poor and hapless soul crosses your line of sight. And the one after that as well, until you do nothing but chase after every single sad face that you see before you, desperate to make sure they're all well and happy without ever giving thought to the danger you throw yourself in! All for the sake of someone else, is that right Siegfr-"
She stopped, her jaw snapped shut.
Schmidt rolled his lips inwards and started to drop his head ever so slightly.
Oh.
"...Helping people is the right thing to do."
Berserker opened her eyes, speaking softer than before. "And what about helping yourself? Why do you insist on doing this? I am not speaking to be cruel or to be unkind, but to try and help you…because this path, this terrible trail you insist on treading, it can only end in one way."
She held him tighter.
"I need you to understand this. Not just to hear me and say you understand, but I need you to truly understand what I am telling you."
"...You're upset." Schmidt said very slowly, reaching up and placing one of his hands gingerly upon her wrist, but making no effort to move her from him. Instead he just laid his fingers on her and did nothing else. "...I'm…"
Saying sorry would make her more upset.
She probably knew what he was going to say as well, given the way her face twisted as if he had actually said it in the first place. With sour features, she scoffed and shook her head from side to side, shifting her weight away from him and then putting her face back to that same cold stare from before.
The same sort of one she always had.
"...What now?"
Even if she asked that, Schmidt already had an idea.
His eyes briefly moved away from her, almost on their own, and sought of Ofeelea not too far away from him, with her own head held in her hands while the Angel watched them. Staring at him in silence, he quickly looked back to Berserker and into her eyes. There was a trace of a glare on her face, but then she just…let him go.
Her hands slipped off his shoulders as the grip disappeared, for a couple seconds she just eyed the place she had grabbed him before letting out a breath, then she just stared at him with something he'd not really seen before.
It didn't feel nice to be stared at like that.
He would have preferred it if she was angry, strangely enough.
This was just…like something bubbling away in his gut.
His wings folded off the wall and closer to his body, quickly ducking his head and eyeing the ground, he bit into his lower lip and tried to ignore the way her eyes fell upon him, but it was just impossible. The feeling got worse as the seconds passed him by, but he could eventually say something.
"...If she says no…" Trailing off, he let the implication hang.
"If she says no." Berserker repeated, louder than him. "Fine."
She didn't sound happy or even relieved.
Just…quiet.
Hurt.
He opened his mouth to speak-
"Don't." Berserker warned, then stepped aside and folded her arms over her chest, no longer looking at him. "Go and ask. Or maybe wait for her to come and ask you. Either would be perfectly in character."
…It felt like she was talking to someone else.
Schmidt's heart hurt in a way he didn't like, quickly nodding his head and stepping away from the wall, he moved past Berserker with hurried steps, placing his left hand over his heart and holding it there, pressing it against his skin through his shirt. It did not feel like anything was getting better.
It was awful.
He hated it.
Eyes rising up, he met the stare of Susaill as he grew closer and closer, she did nothing to step in his way and instead just watched him in silent, head tilted ever so slightly and nothing else. He swallowed and brought his eyes back to Ofeelea, slowing himself until he was standing not very far from her.
She didn't seem to notice he was there, not at first.
When she did, it was as she pulled her hands away from her face and then stared at him.
"...Hello." Schmidt said, unable to put the same cheer into his voice as normal, but hoping he didn't try and sound off-putting. "...How are you?"
Ofeelea gazed back at him, single eye boring into his pair, then she dropped her arms down to her side and folded them behind her back.
"...It would seem as though your suggestions were instrumental." She said, eye flicking up and down. "And despite our initially…tumultuous introduction, I shall offer my gratitude that you rendered the aid that you did…If there is something you need to repay this debt, then it would do you well to ask."
"...Do you need any more help?"
She blinked, looking a little surprised he had offered, then quickly frowned once again. "That is not necessary."
Schmidt wilted ever so slightly. "Oh. I see."
At least Berserker would be happy.
"You would offer continued aid to us?" Susaill asked, he turned towards her. "Even knowing that we stand opposed The Second Morning?"
The who?
He stared in confusion.
"...Michael." Ofeelea supplied.
"Gabriel's older brother?" Schmidt felt himself jolt a little, raising both his brows. "Why?"
"He is a liar and a fiend." Susaill bluntly stated, Schmidt felt himself turn more shocked with each word that come forth. "Spreading deceit for centuries in the name of self-interest, he has perverted the faith to serve his own ends. That is why we fight against him and his allies. The Fallen and the Devils."
…He knew about Devils, if only a little.
Schmidt rolled his lips, moving his hands up and touching them together. "Are they the same as the ones Sister Kiara spoke about?"
"Did she speak of them as despicable and sinful creatures that exist only to spread misery and damnation?"
"...She said there were a lot of bad ones that hurt people." He replied slowly. "And that she sometimes fought them."
He swallowed. "...Gabriel's brother…works with them?"
That sounded…
Susaill stepped towards him, "Indeed."
She sounded different from before, less hostile and a little…kinder. Not quite like Gabriel or Sister Kiara though.
"The Second Morning…we call him that because he is much like the Lightbringer. Do you know the story of Lucifer?"
"...He was a bad Angel." Schmidt simply said, because that was what he had been told about in the one time he asked. Of course even now, it felt hard to understand how someone who was the brother of Gabriel could be bad. She was always so nice to him.
"The worst." Susaill nodded. "And he was cast from Heaven by Michael for his ways, for believing he could be like the Heavenly Father. Now Michael…he has assumed control of Heaven, as the Lightbringer sought to do, and he does all that he can to spread his power wherever it might find a home. He consorts with Devils and Grigori…Angels who fell for being sinful."
Susaill reached forwards, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Angels who fell for being bad. Liars and cheats, Angels who hated humans and who sought to control them."
Schmidt felt ill.
Gabriel's brother was…like that?
"B-but what about Gabriel?" He hurriedly asked, unable to believe it. "Surely she isn't-I mean she was-"
"Gabriel." Susaill spoke softly, shaking her head. "I fear she loves the Second Morning too deeply to see his faults. He knows this all too well and she wishes to serve him because he had convinced her it is right…Because he is a very skilled liar."
Then she was still good?
That was a relief.
But…
"You…" Susaill continued, shifting her weight and leaning to one side. "With the blood of a dragon in you, yet still so…how would you wish to help?"
Schmidt hadn't actually been asked that question before.
So he didn't really know how to answer.
"I…I don't…"
He didn't know how to help.
"Do not worry, young Schmidt." Susaill spoke in a tone as if she was smiling. "I can help you and then, perhaps, you can help us."
That sounded…
That sounded good.
Maybe she was a bit different to Gabriel, but Susaill was still nice in her own way.
That was a relief, his eyes dropped to Ofeelea and he smiled.
She thinned her lips and then hummed. "...Very well. You may assist me in my journey."
Schmidt grinned a bit wider, then whirled around and looked at Berserker. "She said-"
"I heard."
Berserker wasn't looking at him, she was instead looking at Susaill with a strange glare.
He didn't get it, but he did figure that would be the case.
But it was alright because he'd be able to help now.
He'd be able to help Gabriel after all the times she helped him.
There were many reasons that great councils were not often called.
This, Brigid felt, was one of them.
It was rare when they were all called into one place and it was only something done - usually - when they had business with the High King, which had been an absent throne for quite a few centuries. Leading this to be no more than a clumsy gathering of differing agendas and interests who needed to be convinced.
Which Brigid would have been fine with, in most other circumstances.
But given who had been sent to speak with them in such short order, given that she had only engaged with this Maalik no more than half a day ago, it spoke to her as if there had been something else at work here. In terms of diplomacy, it was an almost instant response to it.
She had been expecting it to take at least a week before they agreed, or failing that, for Maalik to arrive himself.
But they had sent another and not even the Angel who was already in their territory.
Yet her thoughts barely lingered on them, and rather turned to the great entrance to the assembly hall as the final figure made an appearance. It was the sight of one that immediately brought a frown to her mind, but not to her face. Her eyes lingered on the tall figure as they swept a gaze across the room.
With a face of blackened skin - almost obsidian - his bright white eyes burned all the brighter for it, cloaked in furs across his shoulder and down, the pelt of a bear adorned his right shoulder with the jaws hanging down by his left elbow, and with the antlers of an elk mounted from a skull sitting on his head.
And he was pointedly only now removing his axe from his hands, moving across to his own throne and setting it down beside the chair. Shifting and laying down and folding his arms over his chest. White eyes landed upon her and narrowed ever so slightly.
Brigid could tell, at a mere glance, that he was already displeased in even being summoned.
Well, at least he hadn't walked in shouting.
But he was late.
"I should hope that the sights were indeed worth it," The voice of the Queen to her far right broke the silence, "given how long you had us wait for your arrival."
"I am here." Came the response from the man, slow and dismissive. "Which is already more than I would have preferred."
"Was Arawn unable to make the time?"
"I saw no reason to trouble him with trivialities." Brushing a hand, he rested his chin upon the other and looked about the room.
"But now I find an audience?" He mumbled and rolled his jaw. "Whether I offer apologies for my arrival is dependent on what I was summoned for, rare it was that even in the days of a High King was a grand assembly called, I would have a reason given for why you felt the need to summon us all here."
"A reason that would be known." Brigid replied, hands resting on her lap. "If earlier your face was shown."
"This bickering serves us all ill."
A voice of authority cut through them all.
"And Avalon shall send none once again, it seems they are letting the world pass them by."
Brigid turned her eyes to the empty throne and was unsurprised by that fact, she knew it would remain barren even before they called the meeting. It was truly the Lord of Annwn they had been waiting to arrive and now that he had, they could at last begin the discussion which had brought them here.
Rising up, she cleared her throat.
"It is with reasons most grave that I have called this conclave." She began, eyes sweeping over the assembled faces. "For what happens in the east, the troubles of the world increased."
There was a tired sigh from across the room, Brigid turned her eyes to the throne of old wood.
"You brought us here for something so tiresome?"
Brigid thinned her lips at the pink haired woman, as she crossed one leg over the other and looked as interested in the meeting as one might allow.
"Let the Eastern Gods clear out their own spoiled garden without inviting me to fret over it, should they spill trouble upon our shores, then I would be more inclined to come forth and discuss it, but until such a thing happens…"
Very dramatically, her legs unfolded and she made to stand.
"Mab."
A voice made Mab stop, her head turned ever so slightly.
"Remain until the meeting has ended, since you have done us the courtesy of arriving."
Brigid inclined her head in thanks to the voice of some reason.
"But I am inclined to agree with her, if only in spirit." Came the follow up, "Troubling as it might be for the Abrahamic factions to be spoiling over a fight once more, from what I am led to believe it was no more than a few disgruntled individuals on both sides frustrated over the talks for peace."
Aibell raised a hand, brushing her fingers through sapphire blue lockes of hair.
Sun gold eyes blinked rather innocently as she turned a kind smile upon her.
"Unless you have some reason to think otherwise…"
Of course Aibell would know already, or at least suspect.
Brigid, however, maintained her demeanour without flinching.
"We can speak about the issue until the days end, but I shall address it now and save us all the time."
The next speaker brought the attention of the room upon them, with a voice hard and blunt like steel.
With bright golden hair and eyes like scarlet, the Queen of the northern province shifted her weight, patting down her bright blue dress and taking in a short breath before continuing to speak.
Aine raised her voice next, crimson eyes narrowed.
"That Angel has been spreading all sorts of interesting rumours which has most of the faction up in arms, further beyond this is that debacle of their capital. This is no mere fringe group of frustration, they are an organised rebellion and with very little care for what happens to be in the way. That Shinto town is no more than kindling now."
Aine looked to her and nodded her head slowly.
"Brigid is wise to raise this point, there is much worth discussing here. Especially if those rumours hold weight."
"That their God is dead and gone?" Mab rolled her eyes. "Supposing that Jehovah is dead, I return to my original point. The only real source of power in that group is gone. It would be no more than a brawl between the Angels and Devils, hardly anything new."
Aine shot back. "Michael is an equal to many of the Tuatha, he is no mere fodder as Kuoh has already demonstrated and should their war spill forth to any of the strongholds…there are many Churches of importance within Ireland itself."
Mab waved her hand. "And then and only then shall I show interest."
The golden haired Queen scowled and shifted her gaze elsewhere.
"Queen Cliodhna, surely you would see reason?"
Brigid flicked her eyes to the Queen of the Banshee's.
In the attire of a mourner, Cliodhna raised her hands and pulled back the veil, revealing greying skin and dulled eyes, purple lips opened as the woman spoke in a voice like a bitter winter wind.
"War is not often ignored with pleasant consequences. If for no other reason, we should discuss what is to be done if - and when - it crosses forth into our borders. If further motive is needed, then think of the myriad of others who have long since held a quarrel with Heaven."
Brigid raised her voice. "Heaven stands alone no longer, for the Devils and Grigori have made them stronger."
"Yes, yes." Mab was still, clearly, far from convinced in how important the meeting was, brushing her hand across her black coat and frowning as if she had spotted something unpleasant - pulling a spot of lint away - and then flicking it away from her person. "All very interesting…But why should I care for the strange bedfellows of Angels and Devils? Hardly as though that is new."
"In that time, Lucifer was exiled." Brigid explained patiently. "For now it is-"
"I am not sitting through a sermon." Mab cut her short and raised her eyes. "If you have called us here because of your personal interest with that dead God-"
Brigid dropped her shoulders and her smile, her eyes turned cold and she glared across the room.
"With care you should speak." She responded, keeping a very solid hold on her own temper. "For it is only for Him that I turn the other cheek."
"We did not come here to point fun or fingers at the motivations of Queen Brigid."
The Queen of white hair raised her voice, hazel eyes narrowed.
"And your disinterest is better served in silence, if you are to be here, Mab."
Mab shifted her eyes to the speaker.
Gloriana met her stare without so much as a twitch. "If you would be so kind."
She added on as a mere afterthought, an intention present on her face.
Mab sighed and leaned back. "Fine, fine. Come on then…what is it that has you so worked up?"
"Yes, Brigid."
Aine raised her voice, smiling ever so innocently.
"What is the reason you're calling us?"
Brigid did not deign that with a response, neither verbal nor physical.
Taking in a breath, she moved her hands up and ran them through her hair, it was a tug of the mind as her perception changed, everything about her slowed and calmed, her heart turned colder and colder until it was like ice. Her eyes twisted and her cloth - her pristine dress - transformed into something heavier.
When she removed her hands, her figure had shifted.
A robe of white covered her now, revealing nothing of what lay beneath, not even the shape of her body, and across her collar was now a band of gold with markings written across. Her face matured and her hair lightened into a pure white, her eyes dulled to a faint silver.
"The reason is known." She said in a voice more clinical. "And it is why I called us. The second of Maalik - a Zabaniya by the name of Susa-il - and her human ally approached me some time ago seeking passage into the land of Muspelheim."
The reaction of the room was a more bewildered silence than surprised.
"Passage?" Gloriane inquired with a raised brow, clearly asking if that was the sole reason.
"Passage." She confirmed. "The human, at least, confirmed as much and the Angel is there only as their guardian. Beyond that, there is no further mention of what they hoped to achieve in the realm of fire."
Aine shifted once more, wearing her smile wider than previous. "But it is not simply passage that they were offered, was it? Else we would not be here discussing a thing so meagre as a toll."
"I did not come down here to listen to the two of you engage in conversation you are both aware of." Gloriana interrupted. "Speak your case openly and put this nonsense behind us."
Brigid turned. "An accord was offered to them which they accepted, with some stipulations and conditions. Said demands were in accordance with our needs and continued state of neutrality. They are, in effect, recognition of Maalik and his followers on a grand standing as a new faction."
There was little in the way of response, save for the slight shifting of eyes but nothing more.
Mab stared at her most acutely than all others. "Recognising them as a faction? It is hardly as though they are very popular at the moment. The shinto are hunting for them, not to mention whatever alliance the original three factions have going for them is bound to gather more than a few eyes now…and you want us to announce we see these troublemakers as legitimate?"
"Troublemakers they might be, but they are not without size." Brigid refuted. "And with God dead, their leadership resides with the Angels. Maalik and Azrael are among the oldest that still live beside the Seraphim and they themselves have garnered much sway, far removed from the Old Satan's and their fringe allies."
Cliodhna cleared her throat. "Queen Brigid raises a valid point…for that alone, but our involvement is yet to be determined. For what reason should we turn our eyes to a scuffle between this group or which leader is declared legitimate or not?"
She had prepared for that and took in a deep breath.
"Because they were willing to offer their services in exchange for use of our territory as a means of transport."
Brigid had prepared for either Mab or Gloriana to speak up at that, perhaps even Aine.
But it was none of them that offered their voices to this, instead it was another.
From across the chamber, with the sound of grinding wood as the figure shifted in their throne, the eyes of the room were drawn to Gwyn as he leaned forwards very slowly. A show of interest across his face, white eyes narrowing deeply as his lip pulled tight and curled downwards.
"And what interest should we have in their services? Long have we distanced ourselves from the factions of the world and what lies beyond. To speak of these factions, to engage with them in any capacity, is to invite further relations with them…Would you have us entertain visitors with the Devils and Grigori next?"
Brigid thinned her lips and tilted her head. "Do you suppose it is impossible? With the world above long since having become more affiliated with Heaven than with us, is it so strange to imagine they would be more involved with us?"
"Let them pound on our doors while we greet them with silence." Gwyn answered. "Our concerns lay within our borders, not beyond."
"Without even hearing from them? The world is not the same as it once was. It has changed. Devils and Angels now walk hand in hand, the long war of the three factions has ended and Heaven has split down the middle, their reach extends across much of the world and into our own lands."
"Fine." Gwyn acknowledged with a mere nod of the head, but no further physical reaction. "Then tell me what else you discussed with these Angels in detail."
Explaining the details of their deal - or offered deal - was swift, more so when the room was already in silence and waiting on her words.
The reactions she was met with her silent.
Stoic, even.
They listened with the same clinical coldness that she delivered the news to them all, her eyes lingered on the eyes of her audience, sweeping from leader to leader before finally coming to a stop. Once she had finished, she brushed her cloth down and then lowered herself back down, setting herself back in her throne and resting her hands upon her lap.
Now she expected there would come deliberation.
But there was one final matter to cover.
"Having arrived as my guest, on behalf of Maalik, there is an individual who requested to speak with all of you and make the case for accepting their request." She raised her hand and gestured to a place over her left shoulder, just behind her, and then brought her hand back down and waited.
Thudding steps approached from behind, she saw the eyes of the room sweep to the arrival.
All the faces remained as mere masks to hide their true thoughts.
"Lords of the Court." The voice rumbled, she glanced at the movement by her side as the form of white stepped past her, descending down the steps and moving to the very centre of the assembly with a slow and measured gait. The figure kept their wings folded back and head aimed low.
"I stand hither for a cause of mutual aid."
A hand was slowly raised and pointed to themselves, hunching their body forwards in a short but respectful bow, then rising up.
"My name is Metus, I am of the Daemons summoned by the Heavenly Father, and here I stand in a plea to you."
"A plea?" Mab mused. "Such a curious turn of phrase. One might say it sounds all too close to the term beg…is that what this is, I wonder? Did you come to beg for our help because you could not handle the combined might of the Angels, Grigori and Devils?"
Metus took the words in stride, arms resting by their side.
"Your words are potent, but not without wisdom, Queen Mab. Indeed, the might of the three factions is one that gives us pause, even if we shall not turn our eyes from the goal ahead."
Mab smirked. "Ah, I see. At least you have some common sense after all. It seems as though you are rather desperate…so what use could I - could any of us - have for the aid of a group who shall perhaps not last the next turn of the century? Not at the rate you go and make enemies."
"Our intentions were not meant to offend the Shinto Gods, but it was impossible to avoid."
"Let us not speak falsehoods." Gloriana cut in. "It was avoidable, whether by your hand or by another, it was something that need not happen."
Aine hummed. "Quite right…but I am curious to hear of how you proclaim this impossible? What little words can you weave for us all to hear, I wonder?"
Metus tilted his head slowly, turning it in the direction of Aine. "...It was not something to be ignored and there would be no greater gathering of our group's enemies than that meeting. Perhaps the greater question should be why the Factions would hold a meeting of such importance in land leased to them and minded by mere children."
With a deep breath, the Daemon dropped their shoulders and shook their head.
"But my words are not to make excuses. Fighting is known and we have struck again. Yet I am here today, standing before you, because this is no more a threat to us than it would be a threat to you."
"Us." Gloriana tasted the word, her face soured. "Forgive me if I am not convinced, given that ours is not the faction turning human towns to ash and cinders all in the name of assassinating the leaders of a faction…I would question the audacity you have to come here, today, with the demand for recognition?"
With narrowed eyes, her lips curled into an even deeper scowl than before.
"You have already made your announcement to the world, in every way that would matter, and you are certainly recognisable. A member of the Heavenly Host is dead by the hands of your leader. More so with the mere notion that we should entertain your words as if you have anything worth offering? I, for one, would be more comfortable with ejecting you and your ilk from our lands and casting you back to be pulled asunder by those you have declared open war with."
Upon falling silent, Gloriana leaned back into her seat, crossing one leg over the other and peering down with cold eyes.
And in response to all this, Metus drew in a short breath.
"And you would be wise to do so, but I would point out this simple fact."
Raising his arm, he gestured to himself.
"When we have been cast down, slain, what is to become of you?"
He let the words settle, but Brigid herself pinched her brows the second they passed his lipless teeth.
"And what, pray tell, do you mean by this?" She found herself asking.
Metus turned towards her next. "The world changes as the Heavenly Father falls, it shall never return…he stood consistent through all. When he remained, all knew what was and where it would be. He was never one to skulk or use deception to achieve his way, nor would he consort with creatures of deception."
"The Devils and Grigori." Aine mused. "Is this what you spring forth to convince us? The age of telling how trustworthy they are?"
She smiled like a cat.
"You spin a very tale most cliche, come now, try a little harder to convince me, if no one else."
"The Devils, Grigori and Heaven under Michael. They stand as one force now. One single group. They are no longer three, they are one and should be treated as such. With that known, how great a force do they pose now?"
Metus words brought a sudden weight, but he continued on.
"How expansive are Devils by their nature? In nearly all corners of the world they have spread their influence, deals have been struck so that they might set anchors and now - with the Grigori and Heaven - they might do so unimpeded with their former challengers."
Brigid shook her head at those words. "The nature of Devils has been known since their birth at the hands of the first Lucifer. Whether Heavens or the Grigori stand in their path changed their nature very little."
"Then what of you?" Metus posed. "Already, by your own admission, your lands above are predominantly faithful to the Heavenly Father, what remains of your old followers now save for a force no greater than a cult?"
He pointed upwards as he finished, then looked to her specifically.
"You might be exempt, Saint of Kildare, but your peers have been not so fortunate as to retain their grace and followers."
Brigid thinned her lips, but it was another who interrupted.
"If you came here to spout words to turn us against one another, then perhaps I should remove that little tongue of yours?" Mab declared. "It would certainly spare us all the further embarrassment of a charade such as this."
Metus only turned to her and ducked his head. "My apologies, that was not my intention, but my words cannot be denied."
Rising back up, he spread his arms very slowly.
"The Devils can now work with the Church to expand their sphere of influence…How long do you suppose it shall be before they seek placements in this land? And from there, where does their greed halt? At what point do they decide it is enough and there is no more to claim?"
Turning, they spun in a full circle and looked to any of them.
"Can any of you say, truly, that they would not eventually turn their eyes here and when they do, when they have the backing of both the Grigori and Michael…can you truly oppose them? Have you the strength to enforce your isolationism that you have protected for so long?"
He stopped and shook his head.
"With the Heavenly Father, your isolationism was respected. Your craftsmen were seen as equals and even your peers were granted due courtesy, as with Darlughdach and her placement in the region of Brigid, despite her faith."
Brigid thinned her lips at the tiny little smirk she was sent by Aine, deciding it unworthy of acknowledgement.
"All I wish to ask is a single question." Metus ended. "Is it truly possible to reject the Devils now? To reject any of them now? And even if you believed they would not come…for centuries - millennium - the Devils and Grigori were the foes of Heaven and now?"
Metus rose to his full height and growled.
"Now they hold hands so tightly one could scarcely imagine they had been foes for so long. That so much of their history - of our history - was a tapestry of blood and war. If Michael can so easily declare an enemy of centuries an ally…then what prevents him from deciding the opposite?"
He looked between all of them.
"When Michael decides to press Heavens claim here, and when it is his Angels, pulled from the ranks of the faithful in this very island…when he turns the denizens - the descendants of your followers - to his cause and has them become his Angels. When he marches here with Devils…?"
He trailed off, but Brigid knew he had said enough.
A disturbing painting had been crafted with each word he spoke, with each verbal brushstroke.
It was a painting that she would rather avoid looking at completely.
Gwyn's voice rose up.
"A terrifying image, but all you ask for is passage." He declared. "What business does the issue of transport have with these warnings of doom?"
Metus turned. "Much indeed, King Gwyn. For it is we who keep Heaven divided. We who would press the war to a conclusion…The status quo, as it has been for centuries, would be maintained. This rising faction of great potential, one that harbours the Sacred Gears."
He took in a deep breath, his attitude shifted at that moment and he lowered his eyes to the ground.
"I saw with my own eyes as the scapegoat crafted a Sacred Gear of his own design. A mimicry of the tool crafted by the Heavenly Father."
Brigid furrowed her brows. "What?"
The three factions long held a monopoly on the Sacred Gears of the world, most ended up split between the three of them, and many were daunting in their own right. Power handed to ordinary mortals which made some of them a threat to even the highest of divinities.
To think that Azazel had cracked the method of creating one was…
And they had allied with the Devils now?
The faction who gathered Sacred Gear holders into their peerages as trophies and displayed their power - frequently - through the art of combat?
Her eyes flicked away from Metus and across to Aine.
The smirk she held had faded, there was a touch of unease in her gaze as the two of them looked at one another briefly, glancing across to the silent Queen Cliodhna and then to Gloriana and Mab.
Mab looked more pronounced than any others.
She was openly frowning, arms folded over her chest, distaste written cleanly upon her face.
Brigid did not doubt this would be something that would not truly happen for decades, but it could very easily happen now.
There was a good chance that the likes of Azazel would start handing out to - or making deals with - the Devils or with Heaven themselves.
The thought of a Seraphim such as Michael, or even any of the others, having a Sacred Gear to increase their already noteworthy power was…a rather troubling thing to consider, even if they were not enemies or even holding poor relations with them.
It was all subject to change.
"Michael has demonstrated he will do anything to keep his Heaven alive." Metus finished with, raising his head once more. "From allying with Devils to raising humans into the ranks of Angels…are we truly so wrong for opposing such radical steps?"
"The question of your legitimacy in this conflict is the debate." Gwyn cut in. "And we shall discuss that."
His eyes swept away and towards her.
"For now…leave us. We shall deliberate on this further."
Metus bowed his head and turned away, retreating back the way he had come.
But his words remained long after he departed.
Brigid felt her lips pull tighter against her skin.
And in this moment, she so very deeply wished that Dar was here just to provide some form of relief to her.
Ophelia glanced up at the latest sound of a body hitting the earth.
"Your speed is an ally you make ill use of." Susa-il stated as she leaned down, grabbing Schmidt by the scruff of his neck and yanking him back up. "And your wings are more than decorations."
She shoved him away and into a stagger, he turned around and raised the broken table leg she had gifted him up as though it was a sword. He was bruised, he was panting, and he looked like an utter mess. Yet he just kept getting back up and only offered a nod of the head to whatever words were thrown at him.
Hours, he had been like this, and without much in the way of a break.
The stamina of even a dragon hybrid was something to marvel upon, she supposed, and she was grateful for more than one reason.
Schmidt's presence had given Susa-il something to focus on besides hurling insults to whomever she felt earned them, but she was dubious about this act of hers, if it could even be called an act. By himself, the boy might have been easily persuaded to help them, but her focus lingered more on Berserker.
That was someone who was a natural sceptic and far from foolish.
Ophelia was more alarmed about that than anything else, especially because of how Jedidiah had described the nature of the class.
Individuals drowned in madness and existing at their lowest point, where they would be so far removed from humanity that could be seen as little more than beasts with a flash of intellect. Those had been his words and yet the Berserker who lingered around them was one with a sharp mind.
A very sharp mind.
Definitely someone of high rank from the past, be they a noble or anyone else.
And that sword…
…A demonic blade.
She was not familiar with many warrior queens who wielded blades and she knew that she would need to consult further when she had the time to do so, but leaving them all alone felt as though it would be ill-advised, so she remained through Susa-il's gruelling training of the young hybrid and kept her attention on the Servant.
The one who was very clearly against them remaining, but had resigned herself to do so.
Ophelia expected no help from her at all.
"Again!" Susa-il's voice snapped, she glanced over at the sight of the young boy being dragged back to his feet and thrown into a fighting stance once more. The training resumed and he was once more subjected to a rather violent pummeling, even if he was getting better at avoiding being punched in the head.
Over a day they had been the 'guests' of the Goddess Brigid.
It was starting to feel longer than that at this point.
Her eyes darted towards Berserker once more as she watched the fighting, surprisingly offering very little in the way of words.
Either of encouragement or chastisement.
Just a cold stare directed towards the training pair, her hands resting upon her lay.
Then Berserker's eyes darted towards her own, a sudden movement which had Ophelia instinctively straighten up her posture, as though she was before a tutor once more. It only confirmed to her that this was an authority only exhibited by one who had been a Queen in life, so that at least narrowed things down.
The woman herself watched her for a few moments, then slowly turned her eyes back and watched without so much as a blink.
Susa-il abruptly stopped, sweeping the legs out from beneath Schmidt one final time and driving him to the ground, rising back up in the next moment and turning her head just past Ophelia.
She heard the door behind her open not long after that, turning and rising from the chair, arms folding behind her back.
It wasn't Brigid.
A man with a blackened face emerged from the door, ducking his head ever so slightly so that the antlers could fit, he brought his eyes upon her and she could see they were more akin to bulbs of light than anything else. He advanced upon her directly, paying few others in the room any attention, and then stood before her after a mere handful of steps.
"I am Gwyn, King of Annwn." He introduced himself with a grunt, eyes narrowing. "And you are the mage who came to our land and brought such trouble with you…"
Ophelia ensured she met his stare.
"I expected something more." Was the remark to her face. "But no matter, you are a messenger…your demands have been met by the assembled council and we shall allow you to pass through. I have arranged for transport to carry you to Musphelheim."
She felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she ducked her head in a quick bow of respect.
"I am thankful for this-"
"I am not finished." Gwyn interrupted her, she closed her mouth quickly.
Being a master of reading people was not a skill needed to tell that this figure was rather annoyed at the moment.
"We shall allow this so long as you fulfil your end of the agreement, and in order to do that, we shall dispatch with you a master of laws and contracts to solidify the deal…or to deal with you, should it be revealed that this is an elaborate effort to make use of our good will."
His eyes narrowed, he invaded her space and leaned down until being nearly nose to nose with her.
"Because if that is the case, then I promise you that the next target of the Wild hunt…shall be any who fly under the banner of your Angelic friend…or have associated with you. It is a very small world when you make enemies with us."
She nodded her head without words.
But then another voice echoed.
"Gwyn, there is little cause for such harsh words." The warmth of the voice flooded the room immediately. "It was they who agreed to the creation of a deal to begin with, one might assume them to be reasonable."
That…that voice was different, but not so different from Brigid's.
But there was more.
Power flooded the room.
Ophelia's eyes widened, her head snapped up rather swiftly…then her lone visible eye moved past Gwyn and to the door as the next man stepped through.
With long flowing hair of a deep sapphire blue, his eyes burned a bright cold and face set in a deep frown.
Across his shoulders was draped a cloth which burned as bright as sunlight and yet caused her no pain to look upon, rather it was almost mesmerising…so very much like watching sunlight transformed into water and then worn.
But the appeal was lost as she realised who this was.
Bare chested and with rippling muscle, blood red paint adorned his white skin in runes patterned across him.
Covering his legs were thick black trousers and across his waist was a grass green mantle.
Glowing eyes of gold fixed themselves upon her and Gwyn stepped aside.
It allowed the God to clear the distance.
Ophelia felt her throat run dry and her skin lose any and all moisture.
"The human mage who brings such tidings of terror…"
The eyes left her and swept briefly across the room.
"…and with such a curious entourage." Finishing with a tone that might have been misconstrued as humour, but instead something filled with intrigue.
"It seems." He looked back at her. "That you and I shall be travelling together for the time being."
Lugh shifted his weight back, his lips pulled into a smile that was almost friendly.
"...So when shall we depart?"
Ophelia prided herself on not passing out then and there.