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Chapter 39
The Citadel lay, in all of its splendor, above the entirety of Gracewind. It stood at the capital’s central mound and was a monumental figurehead in the city’s skyline. On this night in particular, it shone not in light, but in the hearts of the people. Every street was alive and well with the full potency of life. A thick fragrance settled just above all, made entirely by an ensemble of food stalls and restaurants. It was delicious, intoxicating, and saw that a sea of people pressed against their businesses, eager for a taste. As bright as the city was on a typical evening, the abundance of festival baubles gave the place an exceedingly vivid light. Not even the day time could match the atmosphere’s power to keep the people spry and excited.
In contrast, the western end of the city held one particular structure that was distinctly ‘normal’ relative to the rest of the capital. It was a soaring spire that pierced upward into the evening sky. Its reach spanned several blocks and was by far the second most prominent structure from a distance.
Known colloquially as ‘Duncan’s Yard’, it was the port by which all airships arrived and departed. Even now, as the selection trials were on the brink of starting, it was busy organizing the deluge of incoming ships. They littered the sky as far off, black shapes. The hums of their magictech engines dominated the port and shook the spire without any consideration for its stability.
Nevertheless, it ran as always, thanks to its many dock workers and directors. All around the port were platforms that extended outwards from its length, like the gangplank of a vessel. Only, they were considerably bigger and made to support the docking of various sizes of airships. On each were laborers ready to unload both passengers and goods. It was a demanding place to be and this time of year always pushed the strain to near unbearable levels.
There always came an influx of supplies and visitors. Albeit, more supplies than visitors as any trip on a commercial airship was beyond the means of the majority of Ardyn’s commonfolk. Still, the vessels multiplied in numbers and occupied every possible dock. So much so that other ships were forced to circle the sky as they waited for a place to tie into. - On this night, a handful of docks had been secured solely for the Citadel’s use. Whatever airship docked in their places were doing so by the Order’s will.
They appeared as normal ordinary vessels, as ordinary as an airship could be. However, their purpose was far from that as most were appointed to transport Attendants and other necessities. Many Brigades from all corners of the realm had come to watch and be a part of the spectacle. By this time in the evening, most returning knights had arrived in time for the festivities. So, when a vessel designated as the ‘Ambrose’ settled into one such dock, it carried not a team of Attendants, but a highly anticipated set of supplies.
Immediately, the dock workers scrambled to connect the ship’s loading bays to the port proper. Their bustle was almost loud enough to match the hum of the Ambrose’s engine. To add to the racket, a handful of wagons began to disembark from the ship. First came several loads of wooden crates which nested upon beds of hay. They were pulled tight by horses and guided by many workers to ensure they came off safely.
“Watch those wheels, keep ‘em on deck! Nothing is gonna’ be slipping tonight on my watch boys! - Hold those reins right!”, a voice called out, deep and coarse. It was direct and wielded all the authority on this particular dock. If nothing else, it was experienced and entirely ready for the pressure of such a job site. And, all would ultimately agree as the man responsible for such a statement was its director.
He was thick and far more heavy set than most of his workers. It was clear that he no longer partook in the heavy lifting as he did in his youth, but he was still as hardworking as ever. His bald head shimmered against the moonlight, only to be dulled over by a white towel. The man wiped away the sweat in one quick swipe and hung the rag back against his shoulder.
“Six wagons, mark it down! - The rest of you, get in there and start counting the rest of the shipment. And, get it done quick, we got three more ships waiting!”, his eyes darted from one end of the ship to the other, then they went back against the port. The horses and their loads had been staged just off to the side of the central spire. It was the typical procedure while they waited for the sealstone powered lift to get to their dock.
“Hey, Benny!”, stood atop the loading bay of the Ambrose was a dock worker who waved below to grab the director’s attention. Concern riddled his face just as well as the sweat of the night did. The man continued to gesture inward towards the hull of the ship. His mouth moved, only to be covered up by the noise of the engine.
“I can’t hear you! Hold up, I’ll be right there!”, Benny called out. Without a wasted moment, he paced through the mess of the dock and began up the ramp of the ship. “What is it? What do you need?”
“We’ve unloaded most of the stuff, but..”, the worker paused and looked deeper into the ship. “..there’s still one crate left.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“Well? What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing is wrong with the crate, but someone from the crew won’t let us unload it!”
“What? Where is this guy? Show me!”
Guided by his worker, Benny walked into the hull and around one particular corner. There was a small cubby, clearly spaced as an area for smaller shipments. Sat within was a wide, wooden chest. It had been opened, the lid lifted back and into the air. A crew member of the Ambrose was knelt over, prying away at an object within it.
“Hey, asshole!”, Benny shouted at the top of his voice. “Who said you could touch that? This is the Citadel’s shipment and property of the Order!”
“Wait, wait!”, the crew member shouted back. His voice was shaking, completely on the brink of insanity. “Why won’t it work? Why won’t it WORK!?”
Startled, Benny took a step back. The crew member oozed an eerie aura and trembled in a way that could disturb the most disciplined of minds. “H-hey, didn’t you hear me!? This is property of the ORDER. Are you trying to get yourself arrested?”
“Shut up… shut up…”, the crew member, in a quick snap of his neck, turned to glare at Benny with bloodshot eyes. “SHUT UP!”. He swung his arms violently, as if to scare them away. In his right hand, he clenched a flickering object. Benny could not see it well under the darkness of the hull. But, for certain, it exuded a film of murky shadow.
“C-call security, call security!”, Benny flailed and made a break for the loading bay. His hand clutched at the back of his worker’s collar, pulling him along in a desperate attempt to escape. The crew member, in all of his feral hate, twisted and jerked around the hull. He stumbled into walls and fell over empty crates. For a moment, he disappeared into the shadows. However, after a painful cry, it was no longer he that rose from the hull.
Two slow impacts violently shook the dock. Then, a third. All business ceased then for every worker. They turned to watch the Ambrose just as Benny ran out of its hull. It quaked to and from, nearly ripping itself off of the dock. Eventually, it ceased, only to spew forth from its hull, a hulking monstrosity covered in black ichor.
“Everybody, clear off the dock!”, Benny commanded as he made a beeline away from the Ambrose. He flailed his arms as a child did to a flock of birds. “RUN!”
Panic consumed the scene with impossible speed. The sight of such an abomination struck terror across the entire dock. All ran in a frenzy and a stampede soon developed. The creature snarled a gut wrenching sound and brandished a mouthful of jagged, drooling teeth. Two massive, hulking forearms slammed forward as it bounded off of the ship like a predator did to its prey. In truth, its ferocity had no single target. All was its quarry.
Beneath its feet, the loading bay crumbled under the weight of its sudden, forward leap. Twin horns, angular and tall, erupted from the sides of its head; a thick, muscled tail spun out behind and whipped about like a heavy rope. - It took no effort at all for one to tell that this creature was more than capable of tearing through everyone on the dock.
That is, until a shard of crystallized light, suddenly skewered it through the shoulder as it descended from the air. At once, the creature was knocked out of the sky and fell hard against the side of the Ambrose. Wooden shards splintered in every direction, causing every person on the dock to take what cover they could.
When the shower of debris ceased, their attention turned toward the spire. From the lift emerged Captain Gareth Lemoir and two members of the Clover Brigade. Already were their knightsones fully activated and their eyes flowing with the pale light of the Echo. - Gareth lifted forward a silver sabre. It flashed against the moon and matched the sheen of his eyes.
At once, before the cloud of dust could even start to settle, a broad piece of the ship shot out from the point of impact. It was thrown like a weapon and soared across the dock in a vicious spin of splintered wood. The creature stood soon after and charged Gareth with incredible velocity.
As a captain of the Order, Gareth remained unperturbed. His sabre rose over his head and came down swift across the wooden projectile, splitting it clean in two. Then, without hesitating for a second, he sprinted forth to meet the creature head on.
Surprisingly, their speed was revealed to be evenly matched upon the moment of their first collision. It was a rapid exchange of blows where claws met sabre in a blinding flash. But, Gareth was a captain for a reason. His discipline was genuine and his experience had never gone unused. This opponent was wild and swung like an animal, desperate for the kill. Every swipe was fierce and capable of tearing a man apart without any trouble.
Nevertheless, its savage nature left many an opening in its otherwise dangerous presence. And, one such opening presented itself to Gareth as soon as he sidestepped its most recent swipe. Thanks to his keen senses, Gareth had empowered his arm the very moment he identified the opening. A surge of magic poured into his fist, which he buried straight into the creature’s chest. From it, a rippling wave of pressure fired in all directions, pushing aside crates and wagons with ease. Once more, the deranged monstrosity was forced backward and away.
“Now!”, Gareth commanded. At once, he pulled the magic from his fist and imbued his left gauntlet with a new surge from his knightstone. On command, the present members of his brigade spread out in each direction. On their gauntlets, a spell circle had been emblazoned. They ignited and flowed with the magic of their respective knightstones. Together with Gareth, they trained their spells at the creature and together, conjured forth a pillar of suppressing light.
It was like a translucent, golden cage that surrounded the monster on all sides. The Clover Bridage had summoned an impenetrable cylinder by the power of three cohesive spell circles. Not even the devastating roar of the abomination could seep through their barrier. It swiped its claws, only for them to rebound explosively against it.
Gareth broke a sweat. It dripped off of his cheek as he stood there, strained by the need to maintain his spell circle. Despite what anyone else could have thought, this brief clash was far more demanding than he could have anticipated. The spell circle before him, which sat fixed upon his left gauntlet, was a difficult one to maintain. It took all of his discipline to ensure that it did not rupture whilst he continued to pour magic into it through his knightstone.
As a 2nd Line Attendant, his skills were incredible. Yet, this particular spell was demanding enough that it took three Attendants to effectively cast. If Gareth was beginning to struggle, he could not imagine the duress that hung over his brigade members. - He only needed to hold the beast here until help arrived. So, he pressed his resolve and steeled his gaze.
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