Rias pendragon

From my balcony, I looked out at Numena’s capital which I was still contemplating a name for this city. One singular thing entered my mind as I stared upon this city in construction, a name I could give it. No matter the life, I always found myself coming upon this land one way or another. To look for something. A path to be led in. The city bustled with life as more and more of it was constructed, slate roofs lined marked area acre after acre. Unfinished buildings filled the vision of many as far as the eye could see. Ever growing just like the influence of the people around me and myself.

“Can't sleep?”

“Huh? Oh, not really. Alex, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What does it mean to be a ruler in your eyes?”

“Well let's see. I think true rulers aren’t born into their position nor crafted by tutors or teachers. They are in my eyes, they are... False rulers… beings that are given everything on a silver platter whereas others well they strive for it. Work their way from zero to one hundred. From slums to nobility, mortals to gods. I-I… suppose like I've said they aren’t crafted nor born into they aren’t molded by their- what’s the word? Predecessor if you will. Rulers are called to it. Sometimes the best ruler is the one who doesn’t want it.”

“I was given everything on a silver platter what makes me different?”

“So that’s what you meant. You were gifted boundless mana, power beyond human comprehension yet you were forced down a peg by your old selves and others, forced to work your way up from a defenseless child to a living symbol of resistance. You still have a long way to go… find the ruler within you Rias. Talia will help in her own way at least.” Alex looked into my hollow eyes seeing nothing unlike hers which were full of life.

“Yo-You shouldn’t hide that burn… the scar. Don’t be afraid to show it.” I spoke words aloud, my biomechanical hand lifting on its own to move the hair away so I could see it clearly. Swatting my hand away, Alex covered her scar with her hair once again. This showed me that she was maybe afraid for people to see it, I understood this, yet I was still ignorant of that fact. Might have been because I showed my scars, burns even my calluses like I had some of pride to them.

Alex shuffled on her feet turning towards the city to look over it seeing the wooden scaffolding planted beside buildings alongside ladders across walls and curbs. Day and night the people worked to construct the city. A place they could one day call home, I had to admit a lot of progress was made in a short amount of time. In the far distance large braziers of fire were constructed atop mountain peaks these braziers were to denote the direction of two different cities. Both of these cities were already named before their construction had begun. One of the cities is named after the ancient moon goddess of Tramon. Nyxus- the city under the eternal moon. The second city was named slightly differently as it was between a mountain and the sea, I gave the job of naming it to artoria as she once lived on the seas in the past. Nyarla. Some of its residents call it the city of sirens.

“Rias we have news about the thing you asked us to look into.”

I turned towards the knight in the doorway. The elven knight that joined my knights order acted as one of my many spies throughout the continents for the moment at least. Waving my hand the knight walked towards me with a ten-page document of parchment filled with various levels of information on the other rulers, their armies and the activities done by them. Starting with Wolfgar and his closest allies not much was happening apart from his sudden interest in chemical mana weapons along with sending spies to other kingdoms who did the exact same thing.

Lyron seemed to be looking for an entrance into the obsidian obelisk which he will never find as long as Dracula doesn’t want anyone entering. ‘Thanks, sifta… I knew you could help them.’ The rebels made a lot of ground in saving commers from Lyron and mordid who was now actively being seen by nobles mainly. Three of several powerful Riel noble families were being silent no doubt my own, the Remingars and Leonharts. It also seemed that my brother Nick well Castil was doing nothing more than advising the king whilst implementing labour camps.

Various noble families came forward towards Lyron to serve him willingly making his army of knights even stronger. On the flip side the three kingdoms that I had contacted not all were helping lyron, myself or the rebels. Medea was already fighting a war against the pirates of Aslan, Astyria the current queen of the kitsune was helping the rebels. Obunaga was helping me with providing the construction materials for the cities whilst furthering her technical knowledge in something she called ‘operation- gunpowder’.

I had also learned from my spies that Tramon was in shit fighting Medea whilst an uprising of beast kin in the central kingdom. Not that important as it was a common occurrence by their standards, which brought us to the last piece of information I needed which was Orin and his current role. With hours put into research and spy networks, I figured out that Orin wasn’t the eldritch god that betrayed me in my life as artura. He was the one picked to look like it, so the real identity wasn’t figured out.

‘Pthulminth emperor.’ Orin ancormon was the current emperor of Pthulminth unlike his predecessor, Orin was something more, in his time before becoming the eldritch god of death, he brought all realms to heel. Which garnered the attention of the primordial creator. From the myths, Orin has always been called a destroyer and eater of worlds but from my understanding in my life as artura, he wasn’t. Simply a broken man some would say. After he gained some of the creator’s primordial power, millions of prison worlds were spurred from his imagination into reality. I believe in the myths of Man they call him Lucifer ‘the fallen God’. Going back to the report it was known that Orin has returned to Pthulminth.

“Send an envoy to the Pthulminth emperor and his saints if possible. Tell him Artura wants to talk.” I told the elven knight who respectfully bowed leaving the room. Out of sight from the knight, Talia was still sleeping in her temporary coma. Whereas Alex read the last page which was hidden through magic. Revealing an eleventh page. Through contacts I had been advised to make by Alex and Elinore I was successful in gathering vital grounds on a few beings.

Them being some of my old knights and one person in particular who seemed to be a street urchin with a skill in hiding in plain sight. According to the knowledge I found of them, she was potentially eight years old, short auburn black hair with glistening emerald eyes. She also seemed to be living on the streets of Wolfgar’s capital Regamin. This child or teen seemed to have only one friend which was the princess iris who should be about my age now. An older sister figure maybe. According to a few lines of wording, this child regularly drew my old mechanical bond reaper.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Reaper like Luna was a guardian beast, but he was crafted not born, gifted to me by Orin his sole creator and father. The reason I wanted to know where Reaper was of course because after I had died, he disappeared entirely some say into the ritual grounds of onrath or bays of Aslan, well I just wanted to be sure. Unfortunately, the information I was given wasn’t concrete. There is no full answer. As for the five thousand years, no one has found him not even a glimpse.

I sighed in relief hoping that not even Castil got a hold of Reaper, because if he did that wouldn’t be good to anyone. Not reading much more of the report I placed it into my dimensional storage bracelet for later so I could go over it in more detail if needs be.

“Oh, I forgot to ask what’s the curse that’s plaguing Talia?” Alex asked now sitting beside Talia gripping her hand.

“I believe it has something to do with shaman magic and the current queen of the wraiths. The cure was the crystal cluster that Lithran gave us the thing that Talia has been looking for. It was once the heart of a female betrayer named Lorien. I don’t know much other than that?”

“What happened to your arm?” I glanced away from Alex as she asked the question. “You tell me not to hide my scar but every time I’ve asked about your arm you’ve avoided the question.” I hummed walking over to my own chair beside the fireplace opposite to Talia and my bed.

“I entered a mind palace a few months back. I figured out who I was. The elven goddess Marin. I decided to traverse forward after that point. Eventually, I found myself in a room full of corpses and a coffin at first, I mistakenly thought it for Ciaran’s but in actuality, it was prison maybe. This mind palace showed me that Ciaran had been protecting a resting place even after her death. After I was granted her soul a being appeared clad in black armour holding a longsword and giant axe. I tried to fight them, lost my weapons even in a dream… it felt. Real. They even cut my arm off pretty much… ripping it off. I screamed. Wailed. I wanted to die but it was all a dream.” I paused seeing Alex’s face turn pale and horrified.

“When I woke up it had been quite some time. There is no clear reason as to how this came about. It seemed my Liar’s hand became physical. No matter the colour, this arm will take its form in oil black and gilded gold. This arm to most doesn’t have a meaning but to me and Ciaran it does. As Marin, I lost my left arm ‘the arm of god’. I drained the seas of gold forming a new one.” Once again pausing I looked into the fire remembering the feeling of golden seas forming an arm where one once was.

“I don’t know what to make of what you’re telling me.”

“You’ll understand one day what this arm means to people. A symbol maybe.” I choked a laugh still looking into the fire, its crackling visage rendered silent in the reflection from my eyes, its sunrise colour reflecting in the dark room around me. My own mana began to react with the flames that sparked, crackled, and whined over the firewood placed underneath it.

“One day… maybe when It’s too late ill understand? I hope you never die Rias.”

“Me too.” I simply responded. To tell her the truth was hard for me knowing I haven’t got long just shy of seven years or more until my death which should arrive by someone’s hands, I’m familiar with. I had known for nearly two years now that I was going to die. A ruler’s death shouldn’t scare me but, in every life, it has the feeling of it. You can’t welcome something like that not in any of your years can you welcome it. Slightly getting sidetracked I realised I began to crush my armrest under the weight of my raven steel palm.

I still even now didn’t have the full knowledge I needed to understand how to use my mechanical hand, having one as Marin was as difficult or annoying as this. After having it for so long you’d think I would be able to control my strength fully, but it seems I cannot. Trying to close my eyes to concentrate on my arm seemed impossible as I began to notice something out of the corner of my eye, a raven. A letter was attached to its back by a small rectangular backpack.

With no regard for its own safety, the raven flew onto my lap from the balcony. Its three eyes peered up at me with a familiar glint in its eye, Orin’s messenger. Argyle. The raven that carried the letter seemed to bow its head long enough to carefully remove the strap from the letter attached to it. Argyle sat on my lap even after I removed the letter from its back. Argyle unlike messenger falcon’s and pigeons could talk to the best of its ability. Simple speech but good enough for someone to understand. Opening the letter seemed to usher Argyle into flight swiftly leaving the room back towards the great tree of Numena, which connected the world tree and Pthulminth.

The messenger birds of Pthulminth were Ravens or Rvens depending on the area of Pthulminth you are in. Each culture had a different way of sending messages some used people and others used falcons or pigeons some cultures even used magic which was a lot more direct, cause for concern and all that. Orin was traditional in that sense, feeling as if you send a bird, making it seem less of a threat than sending someone. One striking difference with Orin’s messenger Rvens they were all three-eyed, I believe his thinking was ‘that it would distinguish himself compared to everyone else.’

Finally fully opening the letter I read its contents imaging Orin in the uptight posh accent he pulled when writing such things, that to me seemed appropriate. ‘Dear my ladyship Rias.’ ‘I may cringe at this.’ I thought reading the first few words that were written onto the fine sheet of paper originated from Pthulminth.

‘Dear my ladyship Rias. I have received your message about wanting to meet in person by your messenger and though I’d like to extend the invitation for you to meet here in Pthulminth I will hold off for now. This may sound like a rejection, but it is not. I’d like to postpone as we know a summit has been called forth a few months from now. Your messenger also included the consort isn’t feeling well… I would like to meet at Summit more formally when you and I assume consort Talia will be feeling better. I’m sorry for the short letter but I have many things to attend to as emperor with my saints being rather preoccupied in the outer reaches with those darn cleric beasts. Ah a fair warning, watch out for those eldritch gods who may come to visit.

Yours truly, Orin Ancormon.’

Through the letter, I could tell that Orin would be busy for a long while, just at least until the summit which was a few months from now. Though I had my disagreements with him in the past he was a good ally. A few times that I did have him as one, I also saw him as a capable fighter swinging his sword and that hatchet of his around like it was nobody’s business. Made sense in my eyes that before becoming the emperor he was a tramonic farmer’s son who chopped wood all day every day.

“who’s the letter off?” Artoria asked peeking through the doorway.

“Orin actually. He wants to meet at the Summit…” My words trailed peering up at Artoria who opened and closed the door upon entering the room. Still in her training gear at least she wasn’t sweating like a madman.

“Talk about the past or reminisce… maybe you can get answers out of him. Who knows who was the one that pointed fingers at him but I still can’t…”

“I know Artoria. I’d like to hear it from him, who he thinks it is anyway… maybe he wants to help us.” I understood where Artoria was indeed coming from as she always never fully trusts someone unless it’s me, Talia or recently Ciaran. The few times that Artoria and I were his allies she did find some trust in him until that day when we thought he betrayed us, Artoria didn’t take it lightly even killing a few angels in the process.

“All the better if we know the truth. Spending some time with him won’t hurt to build trust I suppose.” She shrugged leaning against the fireplace, watching the fire dance.

“I’ve been meaning to ask for a while do you like him?”

“Wha-? NO!” Artoria exclaimed all beet red in the face lightning up like a Christmas tree full to the brim on embarrassment.

“I’m joking.”

Artoria sat stiff pouting like a child at my sudden teasing. The way it came across to me it felt as if she liked him as every time Orin held or hugged Redeemer, Artoria would get jealous. It became more evident the more and more they were around each other like being the third or fourth wheel as it was. Not prying anymore, I left it as is, just carrying on with our conversation like nothing happened.

“Oh, Alex could you look at this wound? I dropped my sword while training.”

“This is the third time this week! Be more careful!” Alex scolded Artoria like a child seeing the large cut on the top side of her hand, from the cut pattern it seemed that Artoria reeled back from the sudden feeling cutting into her index finger even the space between. She winced as Alex slowly healed up the wound atop the dorsal of her hand. In my experience, the feeling of healing magic was similar to the feeling of tasting raw salt or vinegar.

Bearable enough but in certain places like on joints or between your fingers even toes, the pain was a lot. To some, it was worse than feeling the pain of the wound after the adrenaline had worn off. As the healing went on, I didn’t take my eyes off Talia who started to turn back and forth clutching her chest. Making my way over to her I could feel her mana even her wraith energy pulse at the same intervals as her own heart pulsed with every second that went on.

Lying beside her, I took her hand in my own waiting for the moment she would wake up.