The Year of Emperor Hirihito IV: 239
Empire of Rivellion: Capital city of Dyrrachion
Continent of Anastasia
World: Genoisia
Dyrrachion, the Divine City, capital of the most populous empire in Genoisia. An expansive city, with developed land stretching almost as far as the eye could see. Even in such a metropolis, two structures stood out far more than any of the others.
One was the Imperial Palace, the pride of Rivellion, a project that took nearly one-hundred years to complete and cleared a mountain’s worth of stone, steel, iron, and gold. It stood tall, shaped like a sword, with its highest spires cutting through the clouds in the sky.
The other was the Holy Temple, a sprawling complex built onto an expansive floating island that rivaled the height of the Imperial Palace, with opulent amounts of gold inlays designed to reflect its glory to all who could lay their eyes upon it. Eight thousand stairs floated in spirals from the ground through to the skies in order to reach the entrance, with shrines to each of the lesser deities interspersed on small floating islands along the route to the main island. Naturally, none of them could be considered comparable to the temples to the Great Deities residing on the main island.
In a hidden chamber deep within the Imperial Palace, numerous mages stood symmetrically around a summoning circle. A dozen large mana crystals were placed on eight points around the outer circle and on four points around the inner circle, with intricate mystical lines etched across the floor, connecting all the crystalline pillars.
“Balgruf, Is the summoning spell ready yet?”
“Yes, my Emperor. Everything is ready.”
“Are you sure we can call a more competent hero with this? The idiot Ishtar sent us… He’s a decent man, but we cannot leave our fate with him. You're aware of how troublesome it would be to lose the grace of the church if this fails?”
“Don’t worry, my Emperor. We have checked over everything. We even used a powerful ritual to confirm the hero to summon beforehand. She can definitely save us. She was able to unite all the races in her world and defeated their world’s Demon Lord. There should be no issues for them if we were to summon her, your grace.”
“Very well. Then in the name of Hirihito IV, Emperor of Rivellion, I command you to execute the hero summoning at once!”
“Yes, my lord!” the mages responded in unison.
At the stroke of midnight, the mages began chanting their spell, and the circle flared with a fierce blue aura. The light shot into the sky and opened a portal perfectly aligned with the full moon.
However… as soon as the portal opened, an aura of despair descended upon the city. Its gravity was far greater than anything they could have imagined. The sky itself cracked and shattered, as the blue aura of the portal burst outward, inundated with scarlet and crimson colors.
“Balgruf, what is going on?! You said this was planned perfectly!”
“I don’t know! The spell was set to call the heroine, it shouldn’t have targeted anything else! Quick, stop the summoning!”
Some of the mages desperately tried to end the ritual as fear clouded their eyes and the weight of the tear across the sky pressed down upon them. Others stared at the portal in the sky, rooted in place by sheer terror. Only Balgruf and the emperor manage to maintain their calm.
“Depth of spirit, our hearts call upon you, follow our commands, let the mana find peace and rest. Antimagic Field!”
A sphere emanated around the portal, as grey energy futilely tried to inject itself into the array. It barely managed to lessen the weight of the aura enveloping them. Despite their attempts to sever the flow of magic, the ritual circle alighted with crackles of lightning as the mana concentrations grew ever fiercer within the portal far above.
Then… a bright white light erupted at the portal with a thunderous impact. The horrendous weight and imposing aura collapsed to a fraction of its former impact, and rapidly decreased as it's source was flung at incredible speeds across the night sky and was lost in the distance. However, crashing into the middle of the circle was their heroine, bloodied and impaled through the heart by a sinister black blade.
As suddenly as it had begun, the world fell to calm again, and the portal slowly began to fade away.
Choking on blood, she barely coughed out her dying words, “I… did it… I sa… ve… him…”
Emperor Hirihito stared at the heroine’s lifeless body as if marveling for a moment, then snapped back to reality as his eyes shot blades into Balgruf.
While Balgruf was covered in a cold sweat, hands trembling violently, he was still able to keep himself composed enough, at least when compared to the cries of terror from his fellow mages. He knew things had gone truly bad when even Emperor Hirihito, renowned for his extreme composure, displayed a slight shaking in his hands, perhaps for the first time in his life.
It only showed itself for a moment, before Hirihito regained his composure. Although he couldn’t cover up a slight quiver in his voice, he did not hesitate to shout out commands to regain a semblance of control over the situation.
“This blade… I can already feel its power… as if it is reaching into my very soul. Balgruf, check to see if it is cursed and investigate what powers it has! If it is safe to use, we may yet have a weapon which can turn the tide of the war, and potentially mitigate this disaster. Do not fail me a second time. I need to speak with the captain of the Knight's Order to investigate what happened with that ominous aura. MESSENGER! Come here now, we must send for the Saintess immediately. This… will be difficult, but this issue needs to be smoothed over with the church before it gets too far out of hand!”
With a swish of his cape, the emperor turned and left the room, his internal turmoil only growing worse.
I only meant to help our people! How… how did it turn out like this?!
Balgruf stared for a moment, the dark aura from the blade felt almost as if it called to him, and the magecite that was blended into it started shining in various colors. It was… enthralling. He was so focused on the blade itself that he did not notice that the aura flowing from the blade glided off the skin of the fallen heroine, who looked almost like an angel bound in darkness. Balgruf started shouting orders to the surrounding mages, before unceremoniously pulling the blade from her body.
Almost as an afterthought, he waved for an attendant to remove the heroine’s body and to send it for burial, as he hastily returned to his study while his eyes glowed with unfettered greed. As a simple matter of course, he also grabbed a map of Anastasia. The Knight’s Order was certain to ask him where that… thing had gone, and he had no mind to allow anything to distract him from studying his new toy. Blast… what if it flew all the way to Luthas?
Balgruf shuddered a moment. It’d be fine. The king of Luthas and the Emperor are on favorable terms, as long as we handle this problem quickly and smoothly…
Across the city, streets that were usually empty by this hour filled with people, eyes turned upward and praying to their gods to deliver them from this ill omen. Others stayed at home, cowering in the deepest corners they could find, hiding from the scarlet light emanating from the now red moon.
image [https://i.imgur.com/4kWJ6Gd.jpg]
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Kingdom of Luthas, Eastern Anastasia
Borders: Sea of Calimnon to the east and the Archipelago of the Feylands
Duke Vermillion carefully turned the pages of a report; a small, lonely pile of white settled perfectly centered across a rigid sea of black marble that made up the Duke’s working desk. When he wasn’t holding court or hosting an official meeting, this was ostensibly the best place to find him.
Occasionally, he would look over the edge and glare down at the messenger, kneeling with his head lowered and trembling slightly. The Duke smirked, as the few extra stairs between his office and the reception area made the man below look truly small. He was especially fond of emphasizing the difference in status, a point he emphasized here to a lesser degree than his throne room. He eyed the man’s head with ferocious intent, only for the man to shiver and lower it further.
Good. This cretin knows his place.
Duke Vermillion furrowed his brow, the slight rustling of paper disturbing the otherwise interminable silence as he raised the report for closer inspection.
“Messenger, come. Bring me the fifth book on the third shelf from the right, in the middle row.” The Duke casually broke the silence, and waved nonchalantly towards the shelves to his left without as much as a glance.
“Yes, my lord!” The messenger leapt up, grateful for the reprieve as he hustled up the stairs. He gazed for a moment at the numerous shelves that lined the walls, and blanched slightly. The middle shelf… while perhaps within reach for someone of the Duke’s stature, was surely much too high for him to reach. His eyes darted around frantically, and then relaxed slightly as he spied a three-tier step ladder folded in the corner.
“One, two, three…” The messenger muttered under his breath, pointing as he counted across the shelves before aligning and climbing the ladder.
“Uh… a-apologies, my lord, but which fifth book did you wa-“
“I said the fifth, don’t make me repeat myself.” The Duke didn’t even proffer a glance in the messenger’s direction, albeit he did smirk ever so slightly.
There were ten books lining this shelf… and, at a glance, all the shelves seemed to have an even number of book. After squirming for a moment, the messenger grabbed and brought both fifth books. One was titled An Ecological Report of the Western Mountains, and the other, older book James Hawthorne’s Examination of the Tribal Nation’s in the Northern Wilds.
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The messenger quickly hurried back around to the front of the Duke’s desk, and bowed with both books in his outstretched arms. He shuddered slightly as the Duke glared for half a moment, clicked his tongue, and then took both books from his hands.
“Good. Now go fetch my council, and send them to meet me here. You are dismissed.” With a snap of his fingers, a scroll bearing the duke’s seal danced its way out of one of the drawers and floated neatly into the messenger’s freshly freed hand.
“Yes, my lord!” The messenger raised his head, thumped his fist against his chest in a salute, and hurried out of the study as fast as he could manage without making any appearance of disrespect.
As he waited, Vermillion quickly skimmed through both books. Each time he stopped, he would nod to himself before swishing his fingers across the page as a small, thin blue cloth manifested itself and nestled perfectly in the crook of the book.
“Perhaps…” the duke murmured to himself, as a cold smirk etched its way across his face, “I can finally rid myself of that resilient little stain after all… The Count’s timing couldn’t have been any better!”
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Somewhere near the northern village of Kurstwood:
A half dozen knights lead a small carriage down the road, drawn by two weary horses. A young, ten year-old girl rode inside with an older mage, who looked to be in his late sixties, with a long white beard. She also kept with her a bodyguard, who wore leather armor and sported a scruffy brown beard. He was much younger than the mage, in his early thirties at the oldest. He was also the leader of her knights. The glint off the hilt of her small rapier accented the otherwise dark demeanor of her deep purple dress.
Her family crest was clearly visible on the right side of her chest, with a red and gold shield broken into four quadrants. Two of the quadrants had symbols of golden wyverns, while the other two had symbols of a lyre harp and a knight.
“Gregory, how much longer until we reach Kurstwood?” the girl asked.
“We are just a day out now, have patience Lady Diane,” the knight responded.
Her impatience earned a scoff from the old mage. “Hmph. No need to still play along, Gregory. We both know why her father is sending our young lady on such a dangerous and understaffed investigation.”
Gregory chided back, “Hal, that’s the point. She’s only ten. At least try to let her feel a little peace!”
Diane quickly protested, “Hey, I’m still right here, you know! And… I already know. I already know. I don’t need things to be sugarcoated for me.”
Diane leaned back in her seat, her eyes drawn back to the window, their azure color carried a surprising weight for someone so young.
Gregory and Hal glanced at each other, and collectively sighed. They felt a little ashamed at bringing the issue up again. Succession disputes in noble houses are never a pretty thing, and they had been placed on the losing end. Ever since Lady Diane was diagnosed as incompatible with magic, her father and both of her older brothers and sisters wanted her out of the family. Her eldest sister’s otherwise general indifference to her existence was the closest thing to kindness, compared to the rest of her family’s open hostility.
In this country, those with the most ability gained the inheritance rights. However, the family was still required to support the non-inheriting members. Furthermore, back in a brighter period of the kingdom, killing family members was outlawed and numerous protections were given to protect the lives of nobles from their cutthroat politics. Amongst noble families, prestige meant everything. If a family were to refuse to support one of their children, the other families would use that as an opportunity to discredit their rivals and move up the social ladder.
However, having a child that was incompatible with magic created the exact same problem, as they were considered a stain on the family’s honor. Even though removing them from the inheritance was a relatively easy maneuver, they would continue to sap the family funds and bring shame upon the them. Thus, great noble families would strain to find any circumstance they could to remove such problems while maintaining the façade of supporting such incompetents.
Despite her being brought up in such an environment, Hal couldn’t help but smile a moment as he recalled when he was first rescued by Lady Diane. Compared to the other magic-less children of noble families, she had a fair amount of luck and a tenacious spirit that carried her through her family’s plots to rid themselves of her.
A little over two years ago, Diane’s father had found Hal’s aging and weakening magic to be unbefitting of a man in his station. Conjuring up the first excuse he could find, Duke Vermillion had Hal beaten and cast into the streets, timing it with an unseasonably cold and strong storm no less. Injured, alone, and in the rain and hail, no matter how strong he used to be, he should have died.
But… he wanted to live! He’d spent his entire life trying to escape the limits of his birth, and only after a brief moment in the sun, he had been cast aside as a useless rag!
It was then that Diane found him… she was only four years old at the time, and kept only a single servant, an old maid far past her years and at the end of her life. To think, that by that point in her life, she had already been forced to escape from a couple of bandit encounters. She barely made it out alive through luck or by the grace of good-hearted passersby. All the other servants she had been assigned before had abandoned or betrayed her.
Yet she was the only one to come to Hal while he was at his worst, bleeding in the pouring rain. She reached out her little hand and welcomed him and his aged bones into her carriage, still able to cry at the plight of another. Amid the tears and her rudimentary speech, she demanded that he serve her loyally and be a good man. That was it. The loneliness and fear and weakness of her life made Diane into the one halfway decent noble Hal had ever met, and he has met many in his time in the duke’s service.
It wasn’t long after that when Diane picked up Sir Gregory, then Tront, Garen, Frank and Sam. She found each of them at the lowest point in their lives, abandoned, driven out, injured, alone. Each time she refined her speech bit by bit, as she learned bigger and better words. As her motley crew grew larger and stronger, her father began to send her on more and more dangerous missions. Even if his abilities had greatly waned from his peak, Hal was more than glad to use his years of experience to spite the duke. Despite her attitude, as far as Hal was concerned, this little girl had a heart of gold and was the best thing to come out of that family. She was almost like the daughter he had dreamed of having.
However, this mission was, by far, the most vexing one yet.
Hal couldn’t help but scrunch his face in consternation.
Kurstwood. A small village at the edge of a dangerous wilderness, with travelers few and far between. Only traders with a few adventurers leave there once every week to come and sell their goods and assorted monster parts in the ducal capital. Those adventurers reported that something had started to rile up the local monsters, and soon after, Kurstwood missed their delivery. This kind of investigation requires much more than just us, even if it is our assigned territory.
clack clack
clack clack
thunk
The wheel, as it jarred and bounced over a somewhat larger-than-average rock, stirred Diane from her silent staring contest with the forest, and she noticed something… or rather, someone in the bushes.
She perked up with a shout, “Hey, there is someone hurt in those thistle bushes over there!”
“What?!” Gregory exclaimed. In an abundance of caution, he commanded their entourage, despite the fact one could clearly see they already knew the drill. “Knights, quickly, alert positions!”
clack clack
clack clack
clank clank
clank clank
The distant sound of hooves and armor caused Dagon to stir in the prickly bush that had been his resting place for the past week. Compared to the intimidating form he held before, his body had shrunk in size and was coated from head to toe in dried blood and grime, not to mention the numerous deep wounds from his battle with the heroine.
Finally some people! I think… I can hear a girl yelling… damn! How can I pull off a contract with this many people around? If I can’t bind my spirit here, I really will die… that spell is really nasty… it has been this long and I still haven’t regained my healing… Just a little more mana... to adjust my eyes to look more human…
“Alright men, ready up, the little lady is at it again!” Gregory called. “Someone clear the back of the carriage!”
“Haha, let’s see what speech she has prepared this time!” Tront replied.
“Hey, this is no time for jokes, keep your eyes on the perimeter,” Hal said. “I’ll be damned if we get caught by bandits again.”
I can hear them debating… what are they going on about? A speech? Bandits? Ah… that makes some sense.
As the carriage pulled close to the roadside, Diane flung open the door and stood with all the pride and authority a child could attempt to bear. She tried hard to distract from the irrefutable fact that she was small enough to easily stand in the doorway of her carriage.
“I am Lady Diane of House Culaine, heir to the village of Kurstwood! If you swear absolute loyalty to me and always listen to me and promise to be my best friend forever and to never hurt me or anyone ever, I promise you we will help you!” She puffed out her chest as she spoke, trying to emulate as much grandeur as she could muster.
Dagon’s eyes widened in surprise as his thoughts raced through his mind.
What the hell is this? Is this my penance? What kind of speech is this? This sounds like it can be used as the terms of a contract, but a contract is absolute. I can’t argue these terms if I want to live. The first time I will ever fall under a contract… and it is with this oddly familiar little brat… still, I have lived through far worse. And humans are incredibly fragile, short-lived creatures. Compared to how long I have had to tolerate that shitty god’s voice…
And… strange. I haven’t heard that voice since I arrived here. I don't feel it… Was the connection broken?
Damnit! I don’t have the time to worry about that, especially since this is the risky part. In order to execute a binding contract, I have to use my true name. The guards will likely kill me at that point. Not that it matters. Here we go.
With a cough, he cleared some of the excess blood from his lungs, adding another small splotch to the tapestry adorned his now pathetic state.
“Heh. Well then, Lady Diane, I, Sendrien Dagon, the last king of house Dagon, and… Demon Lord of Destruction, accept your terms and bind my soul to your oath.”
Sendrien’s eyes twitched as he referred to himself as a Demon Lord… it was something that voice had used to refer to itself, not one he chose for himself. However, for the oath, it was better to be sure than to risk it.
Sam immediately keeled over in laughter. “Hahahaha! Not even peasants on the verge of death take her seriously or believe who she is! Let’s just move ahead to Kurstwood, that guy’s not long for this world anyways.”
A smile broke out on Gregory’s face.
“Pffft. Hahaha! Sam, did you forget? The reason all of us follow this audacious girl is that she picked up strays like us when we were at our worst. And last I remember, she gave you this exact same speech when we saved you from those back-alley thugs! You couldn’t have looked much better than this kid, and I don't recall you laughing then. Did you forget your wailing, snotty thanks?”
“Hahhhh? W-well, that was then! And I didn’t make fun of her! Damn, look! I, we need to keep up our security posture!”
The knights laughed while Sam, completely red-faced, stormed off to the roadside and feigned watching for activity across the sparsely forested field.
Strange. Is it because I am so weak right now? The contract feels like it was executed, but I see no signs of the seal. Seems I got lucky. Thankfully they can’t tell I am a demon. I get to live. Where even is this? It looks nothing like what I remember of my world… I know I left nothing safe. Does that mean… my whole plan was in vain? I killed off everything… and yet life goes on. Pain and suffering will continue. Have I… failed?
“Shut it, you guys! This is important! And you, enough of the demon play! Since you don’t want to tell me your name, your name is now Thistleman, since I found you in a thistle bush and you’re a guy! Gregory, pick him up. We are gonna treat him and take him with us.” Diane chided the knight’s sharply, which only provoked more laughter out of them.
What the hell is with this broken logic?! How… how do I have no other choices?!
“I see… Thistle… man… Huh,” Dagon quietly muttered, barely holding on against his exhaustion.
Hal raised his eyebrows and watched Dagon like a hawk, an odd expression etching its way across his face. After looking back at Diane, and the determination and pity that emanated from her face, he decided to not voice his concerns aloud.
Does this mean they think I am a peasant from Kurstwood? That… that’s the town that was burning when I first crashed here, right? Why the hell are they going there?!
As Gregory stepped away to grab a cleaning rag, Dagon closed his eyes. He surrendered to his fate, too weak, too bloodied, and too tired to keep fighting it. Other small adjustments began to take hold of his body, imperceptible beneath the layers of blood and grime. His skin color turned to match that of Diane’s, and his eyes did not revert to their demon form. Even the signs of age on his skin regressed.
A small hand wiped the blood and grime from his face, revealing the large gashes underneath along with the visage of a youthful boy.
To find such a thing caused the surrounding knights to react with shock. Only Hal seemed unsurprised at the turn of events.
“Hey! Shit, he’s just a boy!” Tront said. “How the hell did a kid survive with wounds like these? My god… what the hell happened to him?”
“Hal, hurry with the recovery magic, will you!” Gregory called. “The young lady is crying for him, so at least give it a try! Damn old fogey!”
“You don’t think… all that blood was actually his own?!? That’s insane!” Garen said.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Hal huffed. “Gah! I can’t rush like the old days anymore…”
As Hal started preparing his spell, a small chuckle escaped his lips.
“Ahhh… I just remembered a good word to describe our Lady Diane, I can’t really recall the foreigner who taught it to me… but I believe she is quite the Tsundere, eh? Haha!”
Hal cocked an eye towards the unconscious Thistleman, and whispered under his breath, "You're the weirdest one yet… and now you're in for one helluva ride. Guess we are too."