“I was very lucky, nothing more,” Matthew says with a shrug.
“I wouldn’t call any of what happened lucky.” Hansel retorts, not bothering to hide his rising anger.
“No, neither would I, but we need to take what little we are given. Given how shit everything is, having survived it was lucky.”
“If it is any consolation at all, I intend to bring the man responsible to justice.” Rathiel offers, pulling the attention of the two men on either side of him.
Leading the caravan from the front lent itself well to pleasant conversation, interrupted only by the intermittent report of some minor inconvenience from somewhere deeper in the mass of traveling people.
Truthfully, Rathiel was surprised that it took nearly three full days before the men around him felt comfortable enough to speak on their experience. He didn’t mind hearing about it, in fact, he was glad they finally began to open up, even if he did feel responsible in part for what had happened to them all.
“I just wish my parents were luckier,” Matthew lets out a small breath.
“They were in town, right?” Hansel asks.
Matthew nods and closes his eyes just as they pass from under the canopy of scattered trees. He allows the sun to soak his skin for a moment, bathing in the light before he answers the question.
“They had to go to market, William had torn up his knee pretty badly in the fields. The doctor's place of business was one of the closest to the explosion. At least they went quickly...”
“No offense Matthew, but there is such thing as too much positivity. ‘At least it was quick’? That's absurd. You don’t need a silver lining in everything.”
Matthew only offers a sad frown in response, turning his attention back ahead.
Rathiel couldn’t blame the man though. The gods knew he had to dig for silver linings in far worse situations. Sometimes looking for the good in an otherwise horrible situation was the only thing that could keep a man sane.
Hell, leading this caravan was his own silver lining. Being chosen by the gods, resurrected, knowing his allies and friends had left him, needing to kill Casper. It was all just so much.
Helping people, guiding them, that was his distraction, his silver lining. He wished he could have told that to Matthew, but he knew he couldn’t.
It had only been a few days but he felt himself growing close to these three, but he didn’t think they saw him as a friend.
No, they saw Rathiel as a leader, and it was his responsibility as that leader to remain strong for the people he was leading. The last thing these boys needed to hear was that he had doubts, that he truthfully didn’t know what he was doing. He had never had to guide this many people before. Heal this many sick and injured. Hell, he had never even considered it.
Rathiel was truly and wholly unprepared for this sort of thing, but they all looked to him. The least he could do was to put on a convincing display of confidence and hope his basic understanding of the fundamentals would be enough to get hundreds to safety.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons he felt so close to these young men around him. They had offered to help and had been a huge help. The first night especially, the three split off to ensure everyone had enough food and water. They called Rathiel over to heal those who had become injured in the journey.
As much as they relied on Rathiel, Rathiel relied on them as well.
They leaned on one another, confided in one another, and even though most of their nights around the campfires were spent in companionable silence, it felt good to be able to trust the men sitting around you.
Looking out over the rolling hills, Rathiel hoped they would trust him enough to do what needed doing next.
He could see the capital of the kingdom from here, though only because of his superior sight. The tall spires were just barely visible from the haze, poking out over the top of the horizon line, like fingers ready to claw their way up and over, threatening to pull the city up with it.
The caravan itself was still three days away, which was absurdly slow. Rathiel had greatly underestimated how much time it would take to reach the capital. He supposed he had gotten so used to traveling with other adventurers and skilled explorers.
The pace of the caravan wasn’t just slow, it was abysmal. At this rate the chances of Casper arriving before him was significant. He needed to go on ahead, to warn the king and his council about what was to come before it was too late.
But that also meant leaving the people he had promised to guide. Luckily for Rathiel, the caravan had come to trust and respect Matthew, Hansel, and Orion, enough to allow them to lead. But still, it was a large ask and a risky move.
At the end of the day, Rathiel had to weigh the options. Stick with the caravan and potentially be too late, or go ahead, and risk the caravan he promised to protect.
He hated thinking this way, but it was needed. It realistically all came down to the numbers. There were more people at risk in the capital city than there were in the caravan. The biggest threat to the caravan would be highwaymen and monsters. With such a high volume of people, neither was likely. The biggest threat to the capital was Casper, and if he got there, the city was doomed.
“Something on your mind?” Matthew asks, pulling Rathiel away from his thoughts.
“Just... considering what needs doing.”
“And what needs doing?”
“I need to move ahead, to warn the King and his council of what is to come. Do you think-”
“Absolutely,” Matthew responds before Rathiel can even finish his thought.
“Absolutely?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was just considering if I should tell you to go on ahead without us. Myself, Hansel, and Orion can manage the caravan, it's only three more days of travel. You should warn the king. I would hate for more people to die because we were too slow, or you were too late in issuing the necessary warning.”
Rathiel smiles and grabs Matthew by the shoulder. “I was worried you would resent me were I to leave you three with such a responsibility.”
“Resent you? Quite the opposite, you are a hero, Rathiel, you need to do this.” Matthew takes Rathiel's arm and squeezes it softly. “We can manage, don’t worry about us.”
Rathiel nods his head and extends his wings to their full length in a stretch. “I am very relieved to hear you say that Matthew. I will go on ahead to warn the king, please take good care of the people, and I will see you shortly.”
“Of course.” Matthew pats Rathiel on the shoulder as they break their small embrace.
With a single flap of his wings, Rathiel soars into the air, high above the walking masses of their caravan.
He watches from above as they move, like a colony of ants in a cluttered line along the stretch of the king’s road. It was because of him they hadn’t had any deaths on the road. Without his healing, it was possible that some would succumb to injuries...
There was little he could do about it now, he had healed everyone who needed it, and there was no more risk of disease or infection. The only thing that could happen now was brand-new injuries. He hated the idea of leaving people to potentially die should they get hurt, in fact, it made him sick to his stomach. But there was nothing he could do now, he needed to warn the king.
Taking a final look down at Matthew, he returns the young man’s wave, before flying off in the direction of the capital.
His speed was incredible, beyond anything he had experienced before. The landscape around him blurs and smears. The wind roars in Rathiel's ears, but luckily the wind doesn’t sting his eyes.
Was this speed enough? Enough to fight against Casper? When they had battled before, the battle that resulted in his death, he hadn’t even seen the man move. Casper was so impossibly quick he died without seeing what it was that killed him.
He prayed it was enough, at the very least it would buy him crucial seconds, seconds he could use to save other lives...
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Maybe all of this was wishful thinking though. Rathiel had to consider that because the very gods themselves had begun to get involved, they were scared. He of all people was undeserving of their power, yet they granted it to him. Casper must be a truly terrifying opponent, more than Rathiel knew, to have been granted these abilities specifically to kill him.
Rathiel had heard of such events happening in old histories, the gods granting certain people power to stop threats, but that was long long long after the planes were separated, before the gods were barred from walking the earth. For something like that to happen now...
Rathiel lets the wind carry away his thoughts, replacing them instead with a hope that his friends are still alive and well. He hoped some of them escaped, hoped they too were warning the other cities.
He had no way of knowing, not yet at least...
The spires of the capital city burst forth from the horizon like a geyser, revealing the towering structures underneath their peaks.
Impossibly large walls rise up around the city, twice, no, three times the size of any other wall on the face of the world. A sprawling metropolis of conjoined buildings, built as if carved from the same slab of impossibly large stone.
Spires, buttresses, gargantuan towers, arches, and platforms climb upwards, interlocking and interconnecting impossibly. It must have taken a million men ten thousand years to have built something so beyond comprehension.
The lake that sits behind the city itself reflects the surrounding foothills beyond, a crescent of mountains beyond that, acting as a frame for the city, almost hand-crafted by the gods themselves.
The capital city of the kingdom of Getha was before him, and the sight of it alone nearly made him weep.
He couldn't admire it for long however, there was business that needed doing, and it needed doing quickly.
Rathiel ducks and weaves his way through the spires and pathways in the city, carving a path directly to the highest point, and landing in front of the castle gates.
He lands with a crash, a gust of wind nearly toppling over the guards atop of the gates and around the courtyard. Some even pull their weapons on him, until they recognize his golden visage.
“Lord Rathiel...” One of them mutters while others attempt to regain their own composure.
“I require an audience with the King instantly, it is a matter of life and death,” Rathiel demands coolly.
“Sir, the King is not currently accepting.”
“Give me an audience now!” Rathiel snaps the words. He didn’t have time to play around with the formalities. Every second wasted was a second closer this city was to ruin.
The guards don’t seem to know what to do, they half surround him, and half observe him. Half still have weapons pulled, the other are considering begging for forgiveness for having drawn them at all.
“Very well then, I will get my audience myself.” Rathiel growls, and charges towards the castle doors.
“Lord Rathiel, you mustn't!” a guard shouts and moves to intercept him.
Rathiel pays no mind, without having the expend any additional effort he simply walks through the space the guard occupies, and watches as the regular human's body is helpless against the force of his own.
The guard collapses to the ground, thrown to the side and left gasping for the wind that was knocked out of him.
“Lord Rathiel!” Several more guards rush in, all attempting to restrain the half-celestial.
All fail. Rathiel tosses them off of his body as if they were no more significant than flies. Pressing his hand to the doors, he pushes.
The gargantuan slab of metal, usually opened by several men pulling levels and chains, clatters open like a flimsy sheet of wood in a storm, sending a reverberating echo out through the throne room chamber.
“What is the meaning of this!” a voice calls from inside, drowned out by the thunderous crash of each of Rathiel's footfalls.
Rage builds over Rathiel, watching as the council drinks atop their elevated chairs, drink and chat with wealthy lords and scantily dressed ladies.
The music bards were playing comes to a screeching halt, the clamor of idle chatter dies on the lips of the gathered nobles, and all heads turn to Rathiel as he stops at the center of the room.
He was denied access because of a party? He was told to stop because the king's council was rubbing shoulders with the elite.
“I require the attention of the council, now.” Rathiel forces the words from his mouth, trying desperately not to sound too enraged.
“Rathiel! Long time no see old friend, please... calm yourself, can’t you see we are in the middle of something?” a familiar voice calls from atop one of the many thrones.
Rathiel had encountered the king's council a few times at a number of events the duke hosted, though he didn’t know any of them personally, he knew he didn’t care for them.
“Council... now” Rathiel tries again, letting his eyes burn a hole through the skulls of the gathered council, hoping they could see the seriousness in them and make the right decisions.
“That simply isn’t possible, you are welcome to join in the party until it ends, however, and then we can discuss-”
Rathiel snaps, his wings extend and golden light ripples from him, expelling a substantial amount of power, enough to make the pressure in the room grow tenfold. He hated having to do this, but he needed them to listen and take him seriously.
“The Duke is dead! His city is ash, and the marked responsible is on his way here. I strongly advise you allow me to speak to the council.” Rathiel doesn’t raise his voice, yet it booms through the space, amplified by the radiance and power within his body.
This gets their attention, everyone's attention.
The conversation stops, the whispers turn to rising concern, and the rising concerns turn to the start of a frenzy. Eyes go wide, mouths gape.
“Calm! Everyone calm!” a different council member calls out, though it doesn’t appear to work very well.
“A marked? Headed here?!”
“We need to evacuate!”
“What should we do!”
Voices call out, raising above the promise of impending chaos.
“We will be calm.” another voice echoes, this one much quieter, much softer, but carrying an impossible weight
The room obeys, and even Rathiel finds his power waning in the presence of the figure who has appeared atop the stairs overlooking the throne room.
“Your majesty...” another council member whispers, and quickly brings himself to his knees.
As if on queue, the other council members follow suit, joined by the gathered lords and ladies, and finally reaching Rathiel, who is the last to kneel.
“Lords and Ladies, please excuse the interruption to the evening's revelries, I ask you all return to your homes. There is no need to fear, we will ensure everyone is safe.”
The lords and ladies look at one another and wait for the king to allow them to stand before filing out of the room in shockingly quiet fashion.
“My council, rise, and take to your seats, let us hear what Lord Rathiel has to say to us all.”
The council rises and quietly takes their seats, all eyes watching as the king limps down the stairs, to take his own seat in the center, upon the largest throne.
This was Rathiel's first time seeing the king in person. He had seen portraits, he had heard stories, but he had never laid eyes on the man himself. In fact, he was partially convinced the king had died years ago, and the kingdom itself was run by the council... but here he was, alive and in the flesh and shockingly powerful.
He didn’t look it, he was a thin old man, with a well-kept pure white beard, and a full head of white hair. His eyes were set hard in what was once a likely handsome face, that has since succumbed to the weathering of time. He looked a feeble old man, but there was something about his eyes, his voice, his demeanor that commanded respect, promised wrath and kindness in equal measure.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you face to face Lord Rathiel, I have heard many tales of your work across my kingdom, and I would like to personally thank you for all you have done.”
Rathiel bows his head. “Thank you, your majesty.”
“Please, raise your head. You are a hero, in truth, it is I who should bow my head to you. You have done more for this kingdom than I have,” the king chuckles.
Rathiel raises his eyes to meet the kings, but doesn’t respond. How could he? This was not at all what he expected, nor what he was prepared for.
As if understanding that, the king continues. “You said a marked is headed our way, please... explain.”
Rathiel takes a deep breath, and explains the entire situation, recounting the story of his meeting with Casper and his party, to their near death experience in the belly of the hunter. Though it pains him, he even explains his moment of fear and weakness, how it led to the destruction of the duke’s city and his own revival.
After he finishes, ending on the caravan and his journey here, Rathiel hangs his head
The council remains silent, as does the king. The silence hangs between them, an unspoken understanding that the situation before them was unlike anything they had ever experienced before.
Rathiel wanted to look to the king, to see if the man was angry with him, to determine if he had made the wrong decisions, but an impossible weight kept his head turned down, and his eyes locked to a spot on the floor.
Was it guilt? Was it fear? He didn’t know...nor did it matter. The fact was, things were in a very very dangerous spot. Rathiel had come with news that their deaths would all be imminent unless something was done.
But what could possibly be done?
“There are still paths we can take.” The king says as if reading Rathiel's mind.
At that, Rathiel raises his head to see the king staring directly at him. He didn’t look angry, no, he looked determined, a determination that almost scared Rathiel. For such an old man, he was truly terrifying
The other members of the council murmur to one another, all equally confused as they discuss their own plans.
The king raises his hand, and the room goes quiet once again.
“The man responsible for the creation of the hunters still lives, a recluse, far and away from civilization. I spoke to him once, when I was still but a boy. He told me then that should a time come when he is needed, that i should go and seek him out...”
Surely this was a lie? The king of Getha knew the man responsible for the hunters? It was all too... convenient. Too easy....
“I am far too old now to go myself, though I could think of no one better to go in my place than Rathiel.” the king offers.
“Your Majesty... Casper absorbed a hunter, I don’t know what the man could possibly do...”
“He can still do much, I assure you. He has dedicated his life to stopping the dark star, it has been quite some time since the hunters, I believe it is very likely that he would have something substantial for us.”
How was this possible? How was this even happening? Did the gods in some way influence this course of action? Who the hell was this man responsible for creating the hunters, how did the king know him?
“I know you have many questions, Rathiel, I can see on your face you even have doubts. Allow me then to perhaps cast some of them aside.”
This old man really was terrifying... Was it possible he really could read Rathiel's mind?
“You are not the only hero, nor are you the only man to achieve greatness. There are many generations of heroes, many generations of adventurers. I was not born a king, Rathiel, I was born and grew into a young man who wished to create a perfect world. You may be surprised by the number of people who have full lives of adventure you have never heard of.” The king winks.
So that was it then... the king was an adventurer before he rose to the throne. The kingdom writes the histories, so perhaps it benefits them to remove that fact, lest some other adventurers get it in their head that they too could become a king, thus ruining this one's designs of a perfect world.
“I see you understand better now. I know it is far from a satisfactory answer though it is one you will have to live with... as for the man who created the hunters.” The king sits forward in his chair, dropping his voice to far more serious tone. “I will tell you the way, but in going there you must be incredibly careful, for only those he deems worthy will survive.”