“I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens.”
- Woody Allen
“Illimen.” The tone was light, the meaning was not. The king looked at him quietly furious.“How did this slip through?”
“I will find out. But if I can bother your majesty to remember- I asked for more time to properly prepare and give the guard enough time to follow up on the last series of attacks.”
“Excuses. This here is important.” He gritted his teeth and spat out, “We will continue.”
Magister Illimen bowed and walked quickly toward the stairs leading down. The king leaned to the side and beckoned a steward. “Who was that girl that got hurt. I feel as if I should know her.”
“She is the younger sister of Minette of Saltmarsh. Wella of Saltmarsh. She was considered together with her sister as a possible fiancee for your son Carl...before…” The older man whispered.
The king coughed and cut him off. “I remember now. This was a deliberate attack but who would dare?” He looked at Lieseleta then shook his head. Minette had been a good friend to both his younger children until the young von Saltmarsh had positioned herself and her family firmly behind Carl cutting ties with Lieseleta in the process.
There could only be one king, one ruler. And other than those who completely disavowed their rights of succession everyone was in this game to the end. Silently he cheered for his daughter but Carl was the more suitable heir at the end of the day so he did not expose him even as the hints and evidence became more and more compelling. That did not mean that he did not hate him for killing his eldest son. He would not make it easy for this murderous kid.
Some well-dressed nobles entered the high noble's seating area and nodded at their peers. Among them Mathilda von Nordmark and Jamila von Nordstrom.
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The sky was slowly darkening. The helpers carried the motionless student from the yard. Mireille had joined her friends and looked after the stretcher, “Will she live?”
“Not only that, she won’t even have many scars. But what happened was deliberate. Check your pockets and be careful of strangers approaching you for no good reason.” Alyssa admonished. She shook her head, “If there were not so many experienced healers present she could well have died.”
The crowd was restless and murmurs and concerned glances were all around, some people left, especially those with children.
A man in the uniform of a steward went forward and called out, his voice amplified by magic, “Citizens of Margrinar, your king bids you remain calm. This incident will be carefully inspected for foul play but no one was seriously hurt so please don’t let such taint your enjoyment. We will continue with the Exhibition forthwith.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Calvin looked disgruntled. “Even after such an act, we continue. What are his motives?”
“He wants to stir the hornet's nest and smoke them once and for all I think,” Illimen replied.
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The Exhibition resumed, more subdued and with less cheer but with the passing of time, the mood recovered a bit.
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The sun passed the horizon and blood-red tinted the sky. Far over the city the mighty rotors of a flying ship disturbed the evening air. Bells sounded from some churches and temples calling the faithful to prayer.
Carl looked intently at the field and gestured the air-lens to focus on a different part of the spectacle.
In an enclosure, darkness erupted and blazed along the lines of the meticulously designed formation inverting its meaning.
Valens looked at his sister and repressed a sigh. Her eyes were wrong. The last few months she had found friends thawed somewhat and he had been hopeful. He gestured and a vortex of water and air formed in front of him and a playful elemental danced around him to the awed whispers of the populace.
Two of the griffin knights, their beasts colored a burnished rose-gold in the fading sunlight rose higher and flew in the direction of the city while the others continued to silently circle overhead.
Valens bowed toward the royal platform and the audience and for a moment embraced the enthusiastic shouting and acclaim. He had worked hard to be here so he wanted to enjoy this moment.
The clapping grew even louder and his smile that had been a bit timid at first became more real.
The sound was still increasing.
A distant horn blow sounded.
And the noise kept increasing.
A dark mass shrouded the sky and a searing beam of blue light shot from emplacements dotting the wood and metal gondola hanging beneath the massive zeppelin. The griffin knights ascended rapidly.
Guards shouted in alarm, and the crowd panicked. With a roar, black flames raced through the network of glyphs, and pain assaulted the assembled mages. A dark smile marred Carl's features as he stood up and looked at Vilander, his father. On the king's face warred the satisfaction of being right with the rage of the betrayed.
Jamila looked at her family members and abruptly threw aside the cloak covering her. Light armor was exposed with the blue rose of the second prince pinned to her chest. Outside the academy, a battalion of hardened veterans in the colors of the Nordmark's raised their swords. “For the prince and Nordmark!”
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Lieseleta activated a ring on her left hand and shivering flows of air covered her body. Jera pulled the princess behind her.
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As the sun died a fiery death a massive armored man bearing a two-handed axe on his back marched at the head of a group of silent pall-bearers carrying coffins on their shoulders covered in heavy cloth. The procession, three dozen strong, came from the hills beside the academy walking down a grassy knoll they had been hidden by a small copse of trees. Silently they marched, each step perfectly in sync. Ratty dark-grey fabric covered them from head to toe, the feet were bound with rags.
Distracted by the fighting the guards were late in spotting the newcomers. Tharus Iram von den Zwei Brücken elder vampire in the service of the great mistress opened his glowing blue eyes no longer bothering to hide his inhumanity. “Out of the way mortal insects!” His voice was laden with power and some of the guards stumbled, several of them fled.
With a disgusted gesture, he motioned for his silent companions. The caskets were stood upright on the ground some cracked from the force. One courageous guard shouted, “Together men, for the king and Margrinar!” And raised his sword high. The wooden coffins opened and abominations of blood and bone streamed forth. A cloaked and hooded figure with a red mask pointed ahead and the last disfigured and broken creature shambled forward a ripped cavalry uniform draped over broken bones, one arm was missing, the head bore the signs of crushing trauma a bleeding mouth opened exposing shattered teeth.
The desecrated remains of Vadislav Orpen walked one last time.
The creatures were inhumanly quick and there were many. Some of the branded held them back for a while, flames flared and stone rose to form walls and armor, and then there was only the laughter of the giant in the blackened armor.
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The knight stood in the stirrups while the wind rushed past his visor, the enchanted helmet providing him with safe air and warmth. The beak of his mount opened releasing a deafening cry. Raising his arm he readied the spear and threw it with all his might. Glyphs burned along the dark wooden shaft and the bladed metal tip burst into flames before the weapon shot forward and exploded against the side of the gondola. Wooden splinters the length of an arm impaled several of the undead creatures clambering along the deck. But not all of them cared. Two sailors were thrown back blood spewed from horrific wounds painting arcs of red into the dusk. The undead though...continued to load the ballistae. Two frost elves readied spells and bolts of ice and void raced towards the griffins banked and twisted to avoid the storm of projectiles. Another flaming spear hit amidships and blasted a big hole into the construction some armored skeletons tumbled from the densely packed interior. A lance of eldritch fire blasted from a crystal set into a tripod of black steel on a platform fixed to the side missing a diving royal knight.
The gas-filled balloon had taken some hits too and the whole contraption tilted sharply downward before slowly righting itself and turning in circles to shed some speed.
The captain a thin man with messy grey-brown hair and an old leather coat gripped the steering wheel and cursed to his heart's content. Why did he take this job? He had been down on his luck, blacklisted because of his dispute with the procurement officer and the money had been really good. Too good. And now he was guiding the rapid descent of this ship of his filled with undead and mad elves. Screaming with part terror, part adrenaline he hung onto the wheel for dear life as the view through the windows shifted and the world tilted crazily.
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Magister Illimen felt calm and at peace. Now everything stood revealed. He quickly and competently readied spell after spell shielding and protecting himself before he slowly rose into the air. He had once used such an air galleon and been impressed by its size, but having it bear down on oneself while burning and shedding broken planks and metal? Another experience entirely.
“Calvin, protect the civilians!” His last shout reached his protege who nodded even as his friend did no longer face him.
Ascending to the sky he felt a freedom he had not known for years, buried in reports and meetings, even the teaching he had loved was farther and farther away drowned in the minutiae of management. Pain shot into his limbs as he tried to channel more mana, the source of his power was tainted and as his gaze roamed the stadium he soon found the cause. Through his enhanced sight, he found the void-aspected energies surging through the geomantic formation. He grasped a mana crystal and tapped into its potential but he knew- This fight suddenly got much more difficult.
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Halvar von Landesend gaped at the sight of the undead smashing into the seats in front of him. What was that!? He was patrolling and then there was a fight outside and the airship was burning overhead. He could not wrap his mind around it. He shouted, “Death to the invaders, for the second prince!”
The group of Nordmark men-at-arms heard him and some looked a bit confused- Comrades in arms or a ruse?
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Alyssa grabbed Alea and pulled her behind herself. Mireille summoned a spear of lightning and stabbed a fallen and nearly destroyed skeletal fighter. The fleshless skull with the glowing pinpoints of light in the empty sockets exploded as the crackling speartip pierced the cranium.
Alea spoke a spell and an eye made of light manifested shooting rays of intense radiance at the Nordmark troops and falling skeletons. She gasped as the corrupted mana in the surroundings made itself felt but simply drew more on her inner gate.
Town guards drove civilians back into the shelter of the awnings and formed a defensive cordon around them.
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The carriage door was ripped from its hinges and Zygmund von Nordmark strode out of the wreckage. He breathed deeply of the night air and laughed. He had not felt that good in decades. Grabbing the heavy zweihänder he followed the troops he already sent ahead.
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Vilander von Margrinar took stock. Some fighters with the coat of arms of Nordmark attacked patrols of royal knights and the guard in the west towards the city, the airship was slowly falling deeper and magical discharges and spells kept the griffin knights at bay but the contraption was seriously damaged already.
The mana in the area was contaminated and he had difficulties powering the spells he normally used. How much worse would it be for the less trained army mages?
A group of ravening monsters led by an armored undead came from the east assisted by what seemed to be blood magic.
“Call for reinforcements!” He grabbed the minister that had frozen in shock at his side and pushed him towards the other nobles. Lieseleta had tried to cast a protection spell and was currently hugging herself to alleviate the nausea that the void mana had left her in.
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Silverrestra the frost elf necromancer coughed, thick black smoke rose from one of the four rotors that drove the ship, they were affixed to the gondola by metal shafts jutting from the sides. She grimaced viciously the pain in her side making her angry beyond reason she spoke some words and darkness formed several bolts that shot for the knight that had landed his mount on the forward deck decimating the fleshless undead with great swipes of his mounts claws, assisting with a lance were needed. The black missiles nearly reached him when a shield of azure blue rose from a bracelet on his arm and intercepted them neatly. Laughing the bearded knight impaled a wight overseeing this part of the ship. Roaring with exertion he levered the struggling undead over the side laughing again as he fell.
The fight was not going as well as hoped. The knights were truly the elite of the kingdom.
Behind her, in the cockpit, the pressganged captain was still screaming madly as the cargo hatch exploded outward and the husk of a once female elf rose through the storm of splinters. Dead eyes fixed on the knight and with a tearing gesture the void erupted in a circular patch underneath the griffin tentacles latched onto the beast and dragged the struggling monster down into a lightless abyss.