Having consulted Zenzi telepathically, Grovalt and the others made their way to her current location: the Tyranny Resistance’s base of operations. Ironically, it was situated below the Church of the Goddess, one of the largest and oldest buildings in Aza.
“I really didn’t think we’d be walking through a church at a time like this,“ Grovalt muttered.
Darriel was walking at a steady pace next to him, his broad shoulders and stride making Grovalt look small in comparison, even though they were really about the same size. “Violence and religion have always gone hand-in-hand. It is strange that the Church would allow them to hide there, though.“
Nakir, who was walking behind them with Ceres, took interest in their conversation. “Quite right. The Church has always preached peace above all. Could they have sided with the Resistance for some reason? Perhaps they see the Black Sorceress as a heretic?“
“It’s possible,“ Grovalt replied. “But even so, it seems very out of character for them to suddenly associate with a group like that. Even if they disagree with the Sorceress’s ruling.“
“What’s this Resistance group about, anyway?“ Ceres asked.
Darriel peered back at Ceres’s determined yet childish face, and faced forward again. “The Tyranny Resistance has been around as long as the Sorceress has been in power. Not long after she was exalted by the Archmage, many Azanites found her actions cruel and unjust. So, the Resistance was formed. Coincidentally, every time the Resistance planned to strike a heavy blow to the Imperium, they lost almost all of their members in a single night. No one knows who truly orchestrated those attacks, but I think you can guess who the main suspect is.“
“I admire their cause, but a few dozen men is nothing compared to the Imperium officials. The Sorceress alone is probably one of the most powerful people on the continent.“ Grovalt scratched his patchy beard.
“What makes you think we can put up a fight, then?“ Nakir asked, then leaned over Grovalt’s shoulder to see the church coming into view.
“I don’t. If anything, this whole thing is a death wish. But, if we don’t do anything, Ceres’s sister could be hurt or killed, right? I can’t just let something like that happen to her.“
A blanket of silence fell upon the group as they reached the Church of the Goddess. It was a fairly tall and extremely wide building that was built with a mixture of the draconian architecture common in Aza, as well as a white marble finish along the entrance, the walls, the floors, and the great pale pillars that held the structure up. It was a sight for sore eyes in a city filled to the brim with the same grim constructs lining every street. A gorgeous fountain lay in front of it with a statue of the Goddess in the middle. The misty fog that floated around them settled on the crystal clear water.
Inside was mostly marble as well. Large groups of people were gathered in white robes tied together with golden knots. They were all standing at different statues, all the same as the one outside. They prayed with their hands together and their heads lowered, muttering words unknown to non-church goers. Far ahead was the greatest gathering of bodies in the church. It was a choir, solemnly singing in a calming melody that echoed throughout the halls.
“Can I help you all?“ A beautiful woman with porcelain skin, light blonde hair, and wearing a white suit had suddenly made herself known to everyone. Her face showed zero judgment nor dismay at the rag-tag group of individuals standing before her. In fact, she wore a warm smile that shook the hearts of the men.
“Seems we’re a bit lost, I guess. Could you show us how to get downstairs?“ Grovalt spoke in a nonchalant way, hiding the fascination he had for the woman’s beauty.
“We all were lost, once, just as you are now. All of us have lost people dear to us in this chaotic world we live in. It was by Ymiris’s will that we were made to be punished for our sins. Our repressed emotions, when freed, are a danger to us and all who cross our paths. Seek the righteous way of life, my friends. Seek the path of indifference, the path of tranquility. Seek modesty and peace.“
The group were silent at the sudden holy lecture. Darriel, annoyed, pinched the space between his nose and his brow, then chose to speak politely. “We’re thankful, really. But we don’t have time for this.“
“There is never a right time to do something. Sometimes, we just have to face our fear and do what must be done. Otherwise what you wish for may never come to pass.“
“Hey! He said we don’t have time for this. Keep your cult talk out of our business and show us the way down.“ The blonde girl, Lumi, who normally was cheerful and joyous, had now entered a fervor of disdain. She eyed the woman in white with a narrowed gaze.
“Do you see? Even now, anger takes hold of you. Your emotions control you and drive you to do and say things you normally wouldn’t. Don’t you wish to be freed from them? Don’t you wish for a world free of malice?“
Lumi scoffed. “You’re one to talk. That group you got down there? All they have left is malice. They’d sooner fight and die to their emotions than repress them like all of you.“
“That is true. Sometimes, to make a change, we must act in opposition to our fundamentals. The Imperium and the Sorceress rule us with the power of emotion. They make use of those things that we repress deep inside ourselves. This is a sin they must atone for. Whether it is by our hand or the Resistance’s matters not.“
As Lumi was about to reply to her again, Darriel put up one of his mighty hands as if to silence the chatter. “Enough. Show us the way, or we’ll find it ourselves.“ Darriel’s glimmer of patience had already been spent. His dead eyes akin to those of a corpse struck the woman’s mind. Though her face didn’t falter, Darriel could tell she harbored some negative feelings towards him.
“Very well. Follow me.“ Leading them through the great marble hall filled with the reverberating voices of the many, the woman directed them toward a smaller hallway with a staircase at the end of it. With the same statuesque smile on her face, the woman waved them goodbye and began walking back to where they had met her.
Grovalt sighed, relieved that they’d made it through the church without much trouble. “If there’s anything you’re good at Darriel, it’s making even the emotionless fear for their lives. Shame, though. She was pretty.“ Darriel gave him an expression made of stone and ire, and Grovalt quickly clammed up. “Let’s just get down there already.“
As everyone descended the long marble staircase, they realized that the marble was gradually becoming stone. When they reached the bottom, they found themselves in something like a dungeon or crypt. The air was dank and the torches that lined the walls glowed like suns in the vastness of space. Cobwebs lined every corner, and occasionally a spider or critter of the insect variety would crawl about the unkempt floor.
After paving their way through the deserted halls, they finally heard the sound of people talking. Upon opening the door leaking the noise, they were met with a staggering number of people, most of them dressed in gray coats with the same symbol sewn onto them. The symbol was best described as an inverted spire turning into dust. It was reminiscent of the Imperium, and what it might look like crumbling into bits of debris and ash. These were the members of the Tyranny Resistance. Though their numbers weren’t anything to scoff at, they weren’t exactly an army either. In the great room that they had entered, around thirty to forty men and women were gathered around a monstrous wooden table discussing the near future.
“Finally, you’re all here.“ Zenzi, standing off to the side of the gathering, spoke to them with a twinge of annoyance in her voice.
“Ah, so this is the rest of the Ravens and the mercs you told us about. They sure are an odd bunch. You weren’t lyin’.“ The source of the voice, unknown to them all, came from a stout woman with her auburn hair in a ponytail. A wicked saber was at her side, glowing with violet magical energy. The many patches on her coat and scars on her face signified that she was their leader or something of the sort. She put out a hand to Darriel, the corner of her face up-turning into a kind half-smile. “Name’s Fatalinya, Third Captain of the Tyranny Resistance.“
“Darriel Blackthorn.“ Darriel gave her a firm handshake. Though he needn’t show her such respect as the job hadn’t dictated he do so, he was bound by his own code to treat an experienced warrior how he would treat his employer. Just because he was a mercenary didn’t mean he was some roughneck with no manners, and so he was often bothered that many Azanites saw mercs like him as such.
“Oh! Don’t break my hand, now. Gonna need that to swing my sword.“ She laughed, then let go of Darriel’s hand. The rest of the group introduced themselves as well, and when it came to Ceres’s turn, Fatalinya’s scarred face beamed with the excitement a four year old would express. “By the Goddess, she’s adorable! Look at this adorable girl! Hey, Breven! Come see her! She’s so cute!“ Fatalinya, instantly forgetting proper manners, began hugging Ceres tightly.
Ceres wasn’t too fond of physical adoration in general, especially not from someone she had met mere seconds before. Unfortunately for her, Fatalinya was just too strong. Her hug felt like a giant metal cage crushing her body inward.
“What was that ma’am? Ah! Ma’am! Careful, now! Don’t kill the girl!“ A familiar man with a bandaged face had joined the commotion. Grovalt instantly recognized him as Breven, a Rumhound he had worked with and fought many times in years past.
“Breven?“
The bandaged man turned his head, and the look of worry he had for the girl morphed into one of panic at the sight of Grovalt. “Grovalt!? What the hell are you doin’ here!? I don’t work for Graves no more! Honest!“
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“Calm down! Calm down. I’m not here for you.“
“Ah, thank the Goddess. Ever since the Rumhounds were wiped out, I didn’t know what to think. So you didn’t do it, then?“
Grovalt felt a bit of pity well up in his chest. “Umm… no. That was me. I killed the Rumhounds at the hideout. Got Graves locked up, too.“
Breven’s panic returned to his face, though much less than last time. “Then what the hell are you doin’ here then?“
“He’s a temporary member of the Ravens now. Zenzi told us all about it. You weren’t sleepin’ while she was talking, were you?“ Fatalinya flashed a playful look of distrust at her subordinate.
“I can’t believe this…“ Breven muttered.
“Well, you better.“ Fatalinya finally released the young girl with emerald hair and turned to face the group once more. “I still can’t believe it. The Ravens, Graves’s favorite merc, two handsome men and an adorable girl all in one room! Feels like a dream.“ Grovalt’s pride was shattered in a single sentence.
Zenzi cleared her throat in a dismissive manner. “Now that everyone’s here, we should really get back to our discussion. Master needs this plan to be carried out exactly at dawn.“
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right as always, Zenzi. So, to get back on track, we were thinking about conducting a two-pronged attack. One will be from the outside of the Imperium. That’ll be us. At the bare minimum, even if we can’t get in that way, we can be a good enough distraction for all of you to enter from below the Academy.“
“That’s suicide,“ Grovalt interrupted. “The mages will shred you all in seconds with magic.“
Fatalinya chortled. “That, Grovalt, is why we’ve employed the magus known as Eloise. She’s due to arrive tomorrow morning.“
“Eloise!?“ To everyone’s surprise, the interruption came from Zenzi this time. Her face was uncharacteristically alight with fascination. “Eloise the Witch!? She could easily put up a magical barrier over all of you. She knows every spell written in text!“ Realizing her inner admiration had jumped out from her heart, Zenzi blushed, sat down, and looked away in embarrassment.
“Right…“ Fatalinya continued, flabbergasted at this new side to Zenzi she had witnessed. The others mirrored her reaction. “She would be able to force the mages to fight us in close quarters combat. She cost us a fortune, but it’ll be more than worth it if everything goes to plan.“
“So what are we up against, then?“ Maxra appeared out from the corner of the room, her heart slightly aching from the second-hand embarrassment she felt for her comrade.
“The Sorceress will likely focus most of the mages on us, so you’ll have to deal with the officials. Our informants have told us that currently there are only four of them in the tower.“
“And? Who are they?“
“One is known as the Unseen. As you can imagine, we don’t have much on them in terms of information. All we know is that they could be an anisai, based on the number of our scouts they’ve killed these past few months and the state of the bodies afterward. Another is known as the Monarch, and he's even more of a mystery. We do know that he might be capable of psychic magic, though that could be misinformation. Finally, we have the Archmage and Imagon, the Eternal. Both are extremely dangerous magic users. The Archmage may be even stronger than Eloise, but again we’re not sure. We do have eyewitness accounts of Imagon casting dark magic used by undead and the like.“
Everyone nodded in comprehension apart from Breven, who was still in disbelief and thus not listening as intently as Fatalinya would have wanted him to.
At the conclusion of the discussion, the mercs, Ravens, and Tyranny Resistance took a load off. It had been quite an eventful time for everyone gathered in the underground labyrinth. No, for everyone in the city, it was a time of great change. Whether the eventual change was going to be positive or negative, no one knew. All they could do was sit, chat, and wait until the time came to exact their beliefs onto the flawed city they called home.
“Pretty nice little headquarters you guys got here. How’d this deal of yours with the Church come to be, anyway?“ Grovalt and Fatalinya were sitting at the large table that once was surrounded by a wide array of individuals. Now, it was just them sitting in the faintly lit room. The rest had moved to other places in the underground or up back to the city for rest and preparation for the day to come.
“We just got lucky, that’s all. That woman up there in the suit? Did you meet her?“
“Yeah. Didn’t get along too great with Darriel and Lumi.“
“I see. Well, her name’s Nyame. She’s the Head Pastoress of the Church. I met her a while ago… it was after a huge loss to the Resistance. She offered us her help, so we agreed. Despite how we look now, we were pretty desperate back then. Our captain was killed in battle, so I took his place.“
Though Fatalinya was still conversing just as she always had, Grovalt could sense the heaviness in her voice. “Could I ask what exactly your group aims to do? Why are you all so willing to throw yourselves against the whole Imperium? Doesn’t this whole plan seem insane to you in the slightest?“
The battle-hardened woman gave Grovalt a look that made his question seem like a stupid one to ask. She gave a light chuckle and laid her head on her right hand. “We want to make this city one that focuses on the lives of its people, one that strives to make those lives better every day. This place is rotting from the inside, Grovalt. It wasn’t exactly paradise before the Sorceress came along, but it was a hell of a lot better.“
The mask of apathy Grovalt had donned while he was a merc had grown to be the norm. It was something that he once found easy to slip on and off, but now, it was unthinkable. It was too painful. The woman before him never needed such a mask, though. The strength Grovalt had built up, that he was proud of, seemed like nothing in the face of Fatalinya’s determination.
“Trust me, we know the hypocrisy of it all. We throw ourselves at the Imperium, sacrificing as many as we need to force our beliefs onto them. It’s really not much better than what they’re doing…“
“That’s not true,“ Grovalt said in a slightly elevated, affirmative tone. “They don’t care about the well-being of the people. You do. They don’t care about the abused students in the Academy, or the overworked mages, or the violence occurring every day. They turn a blind eye to their suffering and use it to their own advantage. I struggle to call myself a good person, but I know one when I see one. You all seem to have good intentions to me.“
Fatalinya’s face dropped and her mouth slightly opened as Grovalt praised her and her subordinates. It was a mixture of surprise and gratitude that injected a hue of red into her cheeks. She pushed away the denial that entered her mind. “Aww, well. Y’know, thank you. It means a lot, really…“ She looked away from the pale warrior in front of her and peered into the cracked stone wall, a faint smile forming on her face.
Above them, atop the roof of the church, Ceres and Nakir had gathered at the eve of night. The purpose, at the behest of Ceres, was to train. It was evident from their battle with Imeldra that Ceres needed proper training in combat, but not just her. Nakir had also been useless in the fight against the red-eyed woman. While it wasn’t entirely his fault, he did feel guilty that he couldn’t protect her like he’d promised. In the mess of current events, it was something he had wanted to voice but couldn’t. The chaotic tides that had swallowed the group up as of late had put a damper on anything he could say to her.
“I understand how you may feel, Ceres, but we must make sure you are ready for what’s to come. This battle will be unlike any we have fought before. While those were life-threatening, a single mistake from here on out could cost us our lives.“
“He’s right.“ Breven, who had agreed to help the humanoid dragon, had also joined the two in training. “Take it from me. Underestimate your enemy, and the next thing you’ll see will be the floor drenched in yer own blood.“
Ceres, not entirely convinced, shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s just get this over with.“
With a nod, Breven unleashed the halberd that was mounted to his back. It glowed a cold bluish-gray underneath the darkening sky. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on ya. I’m not about to kill a kid for no good reason.“
“Okay,“ Nakir said, “Get ready, now. Aaaand… fight!“
Ceres immediately rushed towards Breven with all her might, her draconic leg launching her forward with tremendous speed. The flat roof below her seemed to crack at the sheer force pushed into it. With her left claw extended backwards, she readied a vicious slashing attack. Breven didn’t move a muscle, even as Ceres closed in within inches of his body.
Ching!
Ceres’s terrifying draconic claw was deflected with relative ease. At the last second, Breven had whirled his halberd around in a circle motion, deflecting the full force of her razor-sharp nails away from himself. Ceres, while surprised, didn’t let it faze her. She unsheathed her silver dagger and pushed forward again, aiming for Breven’s chest. But she was too late. The man that once stood in front of her had sidestepped her bold rush, and was now directly at her side. With a twirl of his weapon, he smacked her back with the hilt of the halberd.
“Agh!“ Ceres yelped in pain and fell to the ground with a loud thud.
“Wow, Zenzi wasn’t kiddin’. She really is half dragon!“ Breven exclaimed, a weight on his breath. “Gotta say, yer fast. But even the fastest guys I’ve seen still couldn’t beat the strongest guys I know. Graves, even though he was slow, could easily down multiple quick-runnin’ guys in a single axe swing.“
Ceres groaned. Her back ached.
“Ah, shit. Sorry. Might’ve hit you a bit too hard.“ Breven reached down to help the downed girl. For a second, Ceres moved her hand to accept his, but she eventually decided to stand up on her own. Breven chose to see it as her way of saying that she could get up herself, rather than it being an insult to him.
Nakir stepped forward and knelt down in front of the girl. “Remember to keep your foe’s techniques and weapons in mind at all times, little one. Though, I think there’s a few tricks I could teach you that could help with ones like Breven and Imeldra. You need a way to deal with both fast-moving projectiles and defensive attacks. Here.“ Nakir gently pressed his forehead to Ceres’s, and put his hands on her shoulders. After a brief second, a familiar light began to swirl and serpentine out from Nakir’s chest and into Ceres’s body. Faint chimes rung in the air, dissipating into the scarlet nightscape. “A small gift to push through the ordeals that await us.“
“No, wait! Nakir, isn’t that…?“
The spell finished, and Nakir looked into Ceres’s eyes with conviction. “Yes, it is dracomancy. Nothing to worry about, my dear. Though it costs a fraction of my soul, it is but a tiny piece.“
“But-“
“Please, worry not little one. As long as I am of use to you, I am happy. I told you before that dracomancy was to heal the deepest of wounds. This is true, but it also has another purpose. As I transfer my soul into you, it will only make your goal even more possible to achieve. This world is cruel, my dear. Rarely do the weak realize their dreams.“
Ceres still couldn’t comprehend why this great being, this dragon, would sacrifice so much, even his very soul, for her. “The child you mentioned, Nakir. Back then. Do you still not remember who she was? The girl I remind you of? I want to understand why you would do all this for me. Why you would save a weak village girl and help her save her family. It just doesn’t make sense…“
Nakir took a deep breath, then waved Breven away. The bandaged man left through the nearby passageway leading downstairs. “I do. I managed to remember back at the mansion, after that woman passed on. The girl who had saved me long ago, and inspired me to save your life, was her very own daughter. It was Nia, the Black Sorceress. The very same we seek now.“