Chapter 12
Down to earth wasn’t a trait you’d associate with Lokahn’s capital, Mirage figured. Not after laying eyes on it once, and she was getting an awful lot more than just one look. Elias and Gennady were with her as he was escorted through the streets, past the magnificent canals and shining marble statues. The people were cheery in spite of the war, looking outside from their timber framed homes, chatting with the market vendors as they were buying groceries. Everything was orderly and clean, just like the cities in the Justitian Core.
She wasn’t here to deal with other commoners, however. Right after arrival, she was escorted to what was once the royal palace, its spires towering over the rest of the city. The gates to the palace swung open for her, and two rows of guards saluted as she walked past. She breathed in deep.
Everything’s going to be fine. Just relax.
At the end of the columns, the doors to the palace opened. Behind them was an old, pompous looking man, with a silvery mustache and a uniform with far too many decorations on it. Despite all the hair covering his mouth, Mirage could tell he was smiling.
“Well met, Mirage! It is a pleasure to meet you in the flesh at last. I am Philip Gallie, general of the Justitian army, and second in command here in Lokahn. General Sanctullator and I have been patiently awaiting your arrival.”
“R-right… hello.”
The old man held his hand out. Mirage cautiously accepted it, and Gallie shook her hand in return. Mirage didn’t put much effort into the handshake herself. She was nervous, and Gallie had a surprising amount of strength in him despite his age.
“Come, follow me. Let me show you the way…”
Gallie motioned for her and her bodyguards to follow. Elias and Gennady weren’t saying a word, and one look at them revealed icy looks on their faces. One hundred percent professional, no idle chatter. Mirage breathed in deep. She was on her own for this one, and seeing the flamboyant, arrogant strides Gallie took over the carpet made her feel uncomfortable in her own skin.
This man… Don’t let first impressions bother you but… ugh. He walks like he’s in love with himself. How is that even possible? Am I imagining things here?
Halfway through the palace’s front hall, Mirage elected to point her eyes at anywhere except the man in front of her. Everything was brilliantly crafted and expensive looking. From velvet carpets to silk curtains, marble pillars holding up the ceiling and portraits of Justitian leaders hanging on the walls. There wasn’t a speck of dust on anything, nor any spots on the floor. It all felt artificial, unreal. Mirage squeezed her eyes shut for a second.
Royalty lives like this, huh… those generals must fancy themselves as royal.
By some miracle, Gallie didn’t take her to the throne room. Instead he took her up a flight of stairs, then another flight of stairs, to the floor above the grandiose halls on the ground floor. Halls had become corridors, the carpets still pristine and comfy.
Past a few twists and turns, Gallie opened a white wooden door into some kind of study, and shut it behind Mirage when she entered. Giant bookcases rose towards the ceiling: On said ceiling was an image of the Justitian seal, its hammers unevenly bent. Mirage bit her lip. She wanted to investigate, and her eyes flashed yellow: A different seal had been on the ceiling. Something resembling a dragon in shape.
“Ahem!”
Mirage’s investigation wasn’t long lived. Her eyes snapped down at a man. He had head full of brown hair, from chin to scalp. It looked more like a lion’s mane, and his semi-golden uniform strengthened that picture.
“Ah! S-sorry about that.”
“No need to apologise,” the man said, his green eyes staring right through Mirage. “A little curiosity isn’t a bad thing, not at your age, no… besides, I can wait a few seconds longer. Do you know how long I have been waiting to meet you? The valedictorian of the Rebirth program? The Paragon of the Rebirth program?”
What a sleaze… Mirage folded her arms. “I’ve been told. You are Sanctullator, right? Stefan Sanctullator?”
The man smiled, his teeth shining in the light. “The one and only. But let’s not talk about titles, yes? They’re a distraction. People are defined by things far greater than fancy titles. So, let’s not.” He sat down, then flipped through the pages of a book. ”You know what you have been called here for, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask what motivates you? What drives you to solve the crisis at hand?” said Sanctullator as he paced towards the bookshelf. Mirage followed him.
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“It’s simple. I was just an ordinary girl from an ordinary town. Perfectly happy with my mother and my brother… then everything went straight to hell. Lost them both… my neighbours and other friends… the whole village was gone.”
Mirage squeezed both her hands into fists; she imagined herself holding her rapiers to a dragon’s neck.
“What else am I supposed to do? Sit there and let this happen? Let my fellow countrymen suffer like this, too? Was I supposed to just move on with my life somehow?” She sucked in a breath through her teeth, producing a sharp hissing noise. “Never. I’m going to avenge everyone I lost. How else can I live? There’s nothing else out there for me… nothing.”
Sanctullator turned and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving her a nod of approval.
“I see. Thank you… speaking straight from the heart. You’ve had a lot of time to think about this, of course. The sadness, the horror, the pain, the disgust… every last string has been fully defined in your mind. As do most people who have had to suffer at the hands of these cults. I, personally, have seen many a heresy in my career. I’ve seen it all. Every last bit of depravity a man can conceive in his mind, made a reality. I will not recount any of it. You’re better off not hearing about it.”
Sanctullator took a step back. “But make no mistake that we are fighting against the ultimate evil. And any chance to strike a stake through its heart is worth pursuing, no matter what the cost may be. Extreme? Perhaps. But extremism has not failed me in all these years. Never.”
The general ran a hand through his beard, as he studied the books on his shelf. He dragged a finger along, swiping away dust from their hard backs, coming on a stop to one with a green cover. It was named ‘Machinations of War’. No author’s name could be seen.
“Once upon a time, when I was first made a captain, I led an army into a trap. Not an obvious one… at the time, my greenhorned behind didn’t know any better. I assumed that the cultists who I was facing, a cavalcade of degenerates and lowlifes worshipping some plant goddess, were only misguided. They called for a truce, they said they wanted to negotiate. And that is what I did. I sent several representatives their way to plan a meeting between me and their leaders.” He shook his head with regret.
“They were all sacrificed. Cut into pieces with knives while they still drew breath. Their last moments were nothing but agony… and I sent them straight towards it. From that day, I knew better. No surrender. No tears. No diplomacy. Only final victory.”
Just like today, then. Mirage tilted her head upwards, accepting every word of Sanctullator as the truth, and nothing but the truth. “I’m ready to do what it takes to achieve final victory. Anything. Doesn’t matter who I have to run through or blast apart,” she said, partially unsheathing one of her rapiers. “They had it coming after what they all did.”
“Good, good,” Sanctullator said, before returning to his desk. Amidst all the papers scattered across it was a pitcher holding tea. Given the smell of blackberry amidst all the dusty books, it didn’t come as much of a surprise for Mirage. Sanctullator poured a cup for them both, then motioned for Mirage to sit down.
“It’s a good thing you are ready to do anything. Even the things that aren’t going to be easy. I have a special assignment for you, one I don’t trust anyone else with. Are you familiar with the legend of Reval?”
“Not really. My mother might’ve recounted the tale once, I don’t remember it very well,” Mirage said, to which Sanctullator nodded.
“It’s an ancient Lokahnian legend. Reval was the founding king of your country… he was also a dragon worshipping heathen, but that is irrelevant.”
“Mhm.” Mirage nodded along, hiding a confused look in her eyes behind a yellow flash. The first king was also a cultist? Why?
Sanctullator cleared his throat with a sip from his tea. “The story goes that Reval defeated the other warring states in Lokahn, thanks to his slavering devotion to that cult. He even had a dragon companion. But the point being… ever since that time, Reval has been elevated to a larger than life figure. A ‘just king’, a ‘great ruler’, the one to rule them all. Unfortunately, this meant that the entirety of Lokahn was taken over by cultists. But let’s not get off topic here, shall we? What is important is that after he died, he was buried alongside his most loyal subjects in a tomb. And in that tomb is the crown he wore. Legend goes that the bearer of that crown is granted extraordinary power. The divine right to rule Lokahn…”
Mirage watched as steam rose out of her tea cup; the liquid inside was staring coldly at her. “It’s… interesting, I guess. But do you really believe that this, well, this old story is the truth? The Justitian Emperor doesn’t wear a crown either, does he? Why would Lokahn need a crown like that and not Justitia?”
“Pfft.” Sanctullator buried a laugh under another sip. “Whether it’s true or not isn’t what’s important. It could be made of pyrite for all I care. What matters is the power of a symbol. In essence, that crown represents legitimacy. Whoever wears it is going to be seen as the one to rule Lokahn. And though we’ve been fighting this war well, and the people we’ve freed from the cult are starting to realise what true freedom looks like… this legend is one they will never forget.”
Suddenly, the general leans forward over the desk. “If the Homefront gets a hold of it, it can spell disaster for us all. I need you to go to Reval’s tomb, and take his crown.”
He fell silent, and Mirage wasn’t sure of what to say. It was a large story to take in, that much was certain. She drank her tea while pondering over it, putting the cup back down once it was half empty.
“You said this was a special assignment, right?”
Sanctullator nodded. “Yes. This is something crucial, Mirage. And I need the perfect person for the job. Someone who knows how to fight, and is preferably skilled in the art of Illusionism. And that someone needs to be from Lokahn. Think of the outrage if a foreigner took the crown for themselves,” he said, then bit his lip.
“Right…” Mirage said, taking in a deep breath. “This is going to be really dangerous, isn’t it?”
“I won’t lie,” Sanctullator said, once again stroking his beard. “The location of Reval’s Tomb was revealed not too long ago. The Homefront is as aware of this information as we are. There is a high likelihood you will have to fight for that crown. On top of that, we do not know what exactly is down there. There can be an extensive network of traps. Hence needing an illusionist.”
Mirage nodded along. “Understood. I’ll do it… if it is that important, then I can’t just sit down and say no. But I don’t want to go there unprepared… and not alone, either. Is there any other information you can share with me about where it is? How many entrances are there?”
“Just one that we know of,” Sanctullator said. “Though, we have been scurrying around the site. There should be some kind of alternate passage going inside, one kept a deeper secret. Should it exist, and if you can find it, then you should be set. As for not going at it alone… well, you have those two lads at your side, no? Elias and Gennady? They should be willing to follow you into the tomb.”
Mirage rolled her eyes. Great, those two. On an unusually difficult assignment, too. “Thank you. Question now is, how do we prepare for this? Is there-”
Sanctullator raised his hand. “You need not concern yourself with that. Trust me when I say that everything you could possibly need down there is being prepared in advance. We are not taking any risks here.”
“Gotcha,” Mirage said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not at all,” Sanctullator said. “Justitia bless you.”
“Justitia bless you…” Mirage paused for a second. “Blesses you too.”
She left the room feeling red hot in the face, leaving Sanctullator behind with a smile too wide for his facial hair to hide. Though there was nothing funny or embarrassing about the mission she’d been assigned too. The entire balance of the war hung by a thread. And she was the thread. If she failed at the tomb, justice may be lost forever.
A determined look settled on her face, as she elected to hone her skills one more time.