An unspecified amount of time later…

A caravan went through the sands, billowing smoke and steam from their coal-powered walkers: Six-legged, steam-powered transport carriages not larger than a frigate ship, specially made to combat the harsh weather of the desert.

Due to its steampunk nature, the machine always had those distinct sounds: cogs turning, air hissing, and metal creaking. Those incessant noises have done nothing to help Aurelia’s rest, who had been complaining about it ever since they joined the caravan.

“Argh… I can’t sleep, and every nook in this ship is like a boiler room! Was there no other option but riding this… thing?” Aurelia groaned as she laid on a wooden bed on one side of the room.

“Milady, just as Sir Oro had said, we need to be discreet. That’s also the case with this… drab… clothing.” Woodcarver clicked her tongue in disappointment as she tugged the mish-mash of cloth that covered her apparel tightly.

“It’s nowhere near fashionable, but we need to keep a low profile, not until we meet that man,” said Oro, who was sitting near an iron-barred window. Its sight made the room they were in akin to a prison.

“Woodcarver,” Aurelia called as she propped her body to sit on the bedside. “Take your rest. I’m fine, for now.”

“I appreciate the concern, but—” She was interrupted by Aurelia’s pale hand reaching out to her face, as she checked her visibly tired appearance.

“Ah, you can’t hide the fact that you’re tired. Go on, rest easy.”

All Woodcarver needed was a push. She nodded, and hurriedly slept on another bed, which easily dozed to sleep.

No one inside spoke a single word for a few good minutes.

Sighing, Aurelia eventually stood up and stretched, approaching a chair just beside Oro.

“You never took off your helmet, hm? I wonder… it reeks, doesn’t it?”

Oro did not answer. He stoically sat on his chair, feet apart, with his sword propped on the middle, where he rested both of his hands on the hilt.

“Look, I appreciate you being there in the nick of time. Although, were you watching my movements in that region?” Aurelia snorted a sultry chuckle, which only served to annoy Oro.

“I’ve heard about your whereabouts before I assaulted the town, Mido. But to see your beacon, and with me fighting a survivor of that town… with the same name… is beyond me.”

“The Flame of Faust… How come you’ve never heard of it?”

“I’m not a Faustian, Vita. Even your memory must’ve remembered that. I’m not interested in the machinations of your theocratic ideologies, myths, legends, and all that bullshit.”

He paused.

“However, if you insist in the power of that tone—"

Aurelia grinned, interrupting Oro. “Ah, I remember. You’re a fallen Lunar Vassal…” She was about to continue, but noticed that Oro’s aura seemed to tense up. “…But it’s best not to touch things like that, hm?”

Oro took a long pause.

“It’s true that I’m not interested. But if what you told me is true… if that survivor really has part of a long-lost Faustian heirloom, then I wasted the opportunity to acquire a powerful weapon. I only sought those Vassal’s energies for myself. For my retaliation. I truly am ignorant.”

“It’s no mistake. Those flames that you’ve fought were of the same description as those that I’ve come to read: Golden, searing flames, gleaming with the slight shine of ichor. Enough to rival the sun. If we present that power against the Empire, they’ll be sure to cower…”

“Then it’s either he obliges, or I take it for myself.” Oro clicked his tongue, implying something to Aurelia.

“Tsk. The Knight of Hope craves power. All thanks to the void, we stayed true to our innermost desires.”

“You understand that deeply, Vita. Deception is always on your side—”

“I stay true to Faith.” Aurelia snickered. “Their faith, that is. Until they’re bound to me, and easy to break.” She proudly emphasized.

“Hmph,” Oro grunted and glanced at the sleeping Woodcarver.

“Ah, Woodcarver?” Aurelia knew what Oro was about to ask. “She’s a special snowflake.”

“Your servant. Did you also deceive her?”

“If the saying goes that ‘I’ll give her the revenge she deserved by giving her the courage to kill Rogue Vassals and bandits,’ then I guess I did…” She chuckled. “But no. That girl, the one you call ‘servant,’ willingly pledged herself to my service. She knew who I am, yet she was not afraid. She even crushed me with her ability! Can you believe that, Oro!?” She exclaimed while pointing at her stomach.

“Get to the point.” He was utterly annoyed at Aurelia’s sudden excitement. Realizing this, she quickly lowered her tone.

“…I guess what I’m saying is… Woodcarver does not deserve my deception. In fact, she deserves my faith in her. She did so much, yet I only gave her a purpose to live. She just wanted to be a wood sculptor, and I really liked her works, but what happened to her cannot be redeemed.”

“Sometimes, purpose is all a person needs. Same as us.” Oro replied, which in turn, widened Aurelia’s purple eyes. Lifting his sword and pressing it back into its scabbard, Oro stood up and approached the windows.

“Hmm…” Oro hummed a distant melody as he opened a seam through the crudely-knit curtains. His eyes were greeted by the blazing dunes of the region, only obstructed by the narrow eye slits of his helmet and the horizontal iron bars of the window.

“Sand as far as the eye can see. Anvil is still far away, it seems.”

As if to answer in irony, a deep horn blared and shook the hull of the walker for a good ten seconds.

“Or not.”

“That’s the signal. We’re near Anvil.” Aurelia stood and walked to another iron-barred window. She reached her hands outside and turned something. To the surprise of Oro, she managed to open the railings so that her head could stick out of the window and see the front of the ship.

“What… you can open these…” said Oro, as he tapped the iron bars.

“Ah, you didn’t know?” Aurelia giggled as she put a goggle above her eyes to shield her from the blasted sand.

She looked outside and saw grand walls in the distance. Due to the legs of the walker spewing sand all over its sides, Aurelia could only make out its structure beneath the dust cloud. But it was unmistakable.

Anvil is near.

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door.

“Oi! Get ready, the big city’s come out of the horizon!”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Oro and Aurelia looked at each other and nodded.

“Wake up, Myrrh,” the lady shook her. “It’s unfortunate, but your rest needs to pause for now.”

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The piercing heat of the sun hit their skin once more. Because of Aurelia’s relatively pale complexion, she had to wrap her body with cloth double, as her skin could not bear the sun’s rays for more than a time. Both she and Woodcarver hid behind Oro’s shadow as the passengers were being checked for tickets and heads one by one. Each of the walker’s legs was about a dozen meters tall, so they had to descend through extended steps concealed just below the entrances.

As the desert’s winds blew past, a man, head wrapped in a turban below the steps checked each of the passenger’s tickets. Before long, it was their turn. Oro casually handed theirs.

“Hmm… Transport from Sechura to Anvil…” He murmured to himself, checking each of the slim rectangular cards one by one.

“Ah, you had a long ride coming here, didn’t you? Sechura is the furthest station for a one-way trip.” Judging from his voice, he was young. He plastered something on the edge on the tickets and handed it back to Oro.

“Anvil’s not much, being a blacksmith’s haven and all, but for tourists, the oasis in the middle of the city is the best spot. Oh! And I also hope for you people to support our hunt!”

“Hunt?”

“They say the beast is starting to resurface, after many decades of ‘sleeping.’ I wasn’t even born since its last sighting!” From his way of speaking, the man cannot hold his excitement back, for some reason.

“You seem enthusiastic. Hold your horses.” Oro lifted a hand, urging him to stop.

“Ah, I’m not supposed to talk much. I’m holding out the line at your back. I’m sorry, you may go!” He gave a simple wave to the open gates and continued with his checking.

The three entered Anvil, for the first time. Outside the huge, steel-plated wall were security buildings. And if that wasn’t enough, one can peek above and see the heads of guards watching those who enter the gates. Beyond that, however, lies the city itself. It was much like any other city: condensed adobe buildings reinforced with alloys. People were strewn about like it was always a busy day for them. Much of the shops offered items classical blacksmiths would usually sell: Modernized melee and ranged weapons, armor plates, shields, and even old-era gunpowder-based weaponry. Some are still in service, but since everyone is in the transition-era, these served to be more of vanity than practical weapons. Trinkets, pieces of jewelry, and raw gems that were masterfully crafted, all lined up on intricately-designed display shelves. An enthusiast would ogle for days, just walking through the streets.

But the three were here not to feast their eyes on the glimmering gems and steel made by master craftsmen. They were here to meet an acquaintance.

“I know he holed himself up in Anvil, but I have no idea where exactly could he be…” Oro remarked, breathing heavily inside his helmet.

“…These people. They sure are busy. Is there a festival here?” Woodcarver pointed to the colorful banners that littered much of the streets. Different symbols and images were woven on them; information the three have no time to muse on.

As they walked forward, they realized that the buildings did not stop. The foot traffic only served to amplify their claustrophobic state.

“Such a dense city…” Aurelia said, adjusting the top of her cloth so that the sun could not touch her face.

The three slowly eased in through the throngs of people, being careful as to not catch any unwanted attention. They did exactly that until they noticed an unusually-dressed man approaching their general area: He wore a scaled robe, gloves, and a bulky, intricate large crossbow on his back, made of ebony metal much like Oro’s sword and armor. Clutching an utterly familiar crystal pendant on his side, which his head was focused on, he stopped his pace as soon as the trio pulled back from the crowd.

The pendant seemed to reverberate an aura. “Hmm… The crystal’s humming. This means…” Pointing the pendant to the three, he lifted his head and smiled. His irises were of dark turquoise; a stare that could touch one’s soul.

“I assume you’re searching for us.” Oro inquired. Owing to natural reaction, they secured themselves in an area unobstructed by the noise of the streets: on a typical, dark alley.

“Gospel’s visitors, hmm…” The man hummed.

“He predicted us coming here?” Aurelia asked, not forgetting to keep Woodcarver close to her.

“Gospel felt your beacon, Miss Vita, as I was informed. And the Flame, too. After all, reality is his clay…”

“Ugh, those one-liners of his. Even his follower cannot help but… ‘follow…’” Oro voiced a sense of disgust, to which, surprisingly, the man nodded to.

“You’re here for help.”

“No. He needs our trust. Your master is especially deceptive.” Aurelia commented.

“Is that so? Well, I’m only a guide, so lend your voices to him, not me.”

“Make haste, then.” Oro nodded.

“Understood. Follow me.” The man slowly backed out from the alley, lugging his large crossbow from behind.

“Should we…” Woodcarver hesitated, but Aurelia patted her.

“Don’t worry. We’re all here. Let’s go.”

“…Right.”

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The acolyte pushed the gates open to a building. Its exterior was built to be a cathedral, but there were no distinct religious artifacts that can be outright seen, only symbols. Placeholders. Nevertheless, the long interior was wide, filled with pews that, as the four passed by, were not exactly that used. They were exhausted, but the sheer layers of dust covering the seats prevented them to do so. Within the rays of the sun were dust drifting amok.

A lectern stood solitary on an empty stage, and just behind it, a balcony. The head of a cloaked figure stood perfectly still, covered by the lectern’s shape on the trio’s perspective.

“Gospel. As what you’ve… predicted.” He half-bowed and went to take his leave, unnerving the three of his sudden movement.

The door slammed shut behind them, and they were taken by the rays of sunlight that emanated from the glass windows. The slight dust was visibly seen, and as the figure turned his head, the unmistakable mark of a Void Vassal was put face-front into their eyes.

Gospel’s piercing, glowing eyes shed his dark visage. As he approached, more of his details came into contact with the light. His hair was like the snow, medium in length, slicked, but seemed to spike out into curves on its ends, hanging by his neck. His clothing was akin to Aurelia’s: sophisticated, much like that of a noble’s, but his attire was more attached to Anvil’s culture: the beige and yellow tones were the prime indicators.

He snickered, before acknowledging their presence…

“Alas! The Umbral Knights once again converge!” He exclaimed, waving both of his hands far out to the air above him.

“It’s been a while, Gospel,” Aurelia replied. “You’re still playing your games?”

Gospel leaned on his side before answering. “The lords here are the muck of intellect. I successfully integrated myself into this society, and my crystal, eventually, had enough nourishment.” His abyssal eyes visibly looked down before snapping back to the three.

He pointed to Oro.

“Do you know how I predicted all of this?”

Silence ensued.

“That ebony sword of yours. It’s from me. It was passed from a willing blacksmith to a trader, and then to a noble, who eventually rewarded it to you for annihilating a drake’s nest. Ah, you killed him discreetly in the end, for that further lick of money, but what are the odds?” Gospel shrugged.

Oro placed his hand on his sword.

“It’s a part of your crystal… I knew something was up. You sly preacher--”

“Now! Enough musing—wait.” Before he could step down the stage, he stopped, and snuffed his nose, sensing an unfamiliar scent.

“Who’s this young girl?”

He pointed to Woodcarver, who then looked at Aurelia.

“A companion. She is to be trusted.”

“Hmm… trusted. Aurelia Vita, you’re learning to trust, now? Sure?”

“If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be here.”

Gospel took a long pause before waving at Woodcarver.

“Welcome, then. I’m surprised Vita has a follower too.” He grinned, unnerving the doubtful girl.

“Woodcarver, don’t speak up to him,” Aurelia whispered, to which Woodcarver composed herself and nodded silently.

Gospel stopped his assumed descent, and instead went for the pedestal.

“This land’s peace disturbed the beast’s slumber. It yearns for war, you see. It’s an ironic one. Quite the dramatic beast, too.”

“And you want something to do with it. Like you always do.” Oro implied, which made Gospel grin.

“I believe the crystal can cultivate more. That creature’s life force is… massive, for lack of a better word. The void craves it, and we need power to—”

“Fulfill our set goal and break the Faustian Empire, question the Doctor, and turn the Father to dust.” Aurelia finished.

“Hm. For a pure-blood Faustian, you sure are vengeful. Was it the influence of the void, the Doctor, or is it latent in your mind, Vita?”

“I prefer not to discuss, Gospel. Besides, we’re not here for this beast. We’re here for--”

“The Flame of Faust. I know.”

Goosebumps were sent over Woodcarver’s body. Maybe it was just her, but it’s as if Gospel’s intuition and knowledge are always a step ahead.

“And a boy possesses it. Indeed, it is a weapon deemed to destroy Sitis… and it is their… our own, at that! How poetic. And you want me to turn that Vassal to us?” Gospel raised an eyebrow, alluding to something.

“Ugh!” Aurelia snapped. “Fine, we’ll help you with this beast, as long as you keep your end of the bargain.”

“Tell me: The certainty of the Flame’s power is unrivaled, yes, but would I rather not meddle with such—”

“Oh,” Oro bickered against Gospel. “The Grand Illusionist is incapable of feats like that?”

“You’d do whatever it takes, Gospel.” Aurelia and Oro exclaimed as if to mock the sophisticated Vassal. This amused Gospel the most, to which he fell on a fit of laughter.

“Hahaha! Whatever it takes, you say? Then…” He lifted his right hand as if to reach something. A cloud of darkness crackling with energy fogged above his hand, and when it coalesced, a crystal with the unmistakable shade of abyss formed on it. Figuratively reaching out to his dark side, his demeanor changed, and an aura of unease fell around him. The room seemed to fractally change on a whim rumbling, changing, and flowing. And yet, when the three looked around them, it did not.

“Even if it’s just a tiny bit, the Flame can be convinced, deceived, predicted, and wrested.”

Laughing as if a madman consumed him, Gospel reached out to the heavens once more, snickering.

“After all, as Gospel, the Umbral Knight of Charity… The Grand Illusionist, reality is my clay, is it not!?”