“What do we do, lieutenant!?” The young knight, barely in his first year of service asked his commanding officer. She was a battle hardened B rank warrior with many campaigns under her belt. Both of their boar mounts had suddenly gone stiff the moment the strange ash filled the air, refusing to budge a single inch. Looking around revealed that the other nearby knights were experiencing the same.
“Dismount and carry out your orders!” Her voice echoed from her helmet fearlessly but fell flat in the oppressive ash.
“But these are just regular people!” The young knight cried, mortified at the thought.
“It’s not your call to make! Now if you don’t want to share their fate then do as your Crusibilis ordered and -” She stopped suddenly as a different voice came through at that moment. It did not fall flat but bounced clearly through the drifting ash, serene and calm.
“Worse than the wolves. Gray told me so.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere. It sounded almost like a little girl’s. “Have you seen the wolves..?”
A low, horrifying growl came from the young knight’s right. Heavy ominous footsteps followed the sound. He jerked his helmeted head just in time to see a black shadow in the ash. It loomed perhaps fifteen feet tall. The silhouette was unmistakable - a werewolf but one that size was impossible. With a single almost lazy swipe, it swatted the lieutenant from her mount with the sound of crunching metal and cracking ribs.
“They’re so big and strong. Even if you run away and hide they’ll sniff and sniff until they get you.”
Several howls erupted, vibrating the young knight’s whole body and making his teeth chatter. As though the howls had released them from a spell of holding, every boar suddenly went berserk. They spun tight circles, looking for something to attack, with foamy saliva practically pouring from the corners of their mouths. The knight was inexperienced with the awkward sloping posture of the boar’s back as it was, and the sudden bucking spin sent him flying. He came to a crashing halt against the sturdy beam of a permanent merchant’s stall.
“Does it hurt?” A different child’s voice asked the knight innocently as he rolled to regain his feet.
The knight looked to where the voice came from and went white as snow. A mangled boy shambled toward him through the ashes, just a few feet away. Intestines hung from his exposed rib cage, dragging along the ground behind him. Most of the flesh and one arm had been stripped from his body, save for a few small patches and one large cat ear. He couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old.
“Does it hurt? Does it hurt?” The boy asked again and again as he came closer.
A tug on one of the straps of his greaves drew his wide eyes down. A small severed hand was working its way up his leg. The terror was too much to bear for the rookie knight. His eyes crossed upward, and with a weird grunt he collapsed unconscious.
He had no idea how much time had passed when his eyes opened. He was still in the village square, and still surrounded by the unearthly ashen fog. No sounds of terror or battle assaulted him now. His eyes finally focused and he found a young cat folk girl just a little older than the walking dead boy sitting cross legged in front of him. She regarded him with a curious expression, like she was observing an odd but harmless rodent. She was dark skinned with a deep red mane of hair, and bright gold colored eyes. He had never seen a cat folk like her before. Her clothes were too small and on the shabby side, but that couldn’t hide the obvious danger she represented.
“You don’t hurt people.” She stated simply after a long, silent moment.
“The voice...” The knight stammered. It was the voice that heralded the horrors. “Did you do this?”
The girl looked confused, as though the answer should be obvious.
“You killed them?” He pressed. He was surprised that he only felt relief at that thought.
“They’re friends now.” She lifted her small right hand and made a gesture.
A multitude of shadowy silhouettes silently drifted closer all around them. It was his former comrades with mangled armor, helmets leaking black blood, and mounted upon the undead corpses of their boars.
“You don’t need to be a friend. Go.” She waved him off like she was shooing away a nuisance.
As she stood, a bizarre thing happened. The ashen air began to form a cyclone around her, disappearing into her body. The knights and their mounts dissolved into black ash and joined the maelstrom until the air was once again clear and they both stood in the bright morning sun. All around them bewildered townsfolk seemed to be waking from a trance, astonished that the army had simply vanished.
“Better hurry.” She said over her shoulder as she turned her back to him. “Gray’s coming. He’s angry.”
“She’s right. I should run while I can. But to what? The order will torture me for information, then probably kill me for abandoning a mission. Just who are these people?” He swallowed his fear and stood resolute. He unbuckled his sword which he hadn’t even drawn, and let it clatter to the cobblestone.
“You’ll stay?” She looked over her shoulder. Her expression almost seemed pleased.
“You’re right.” The knight found his voice once again, and it was firm this time. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I wanted to help people, like what you did except maybe not so scary.” The knight fought back an involuntary shudder as he finished. He might have said more but a fast approaching scream from above stopped him.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
He looked up just in time to follow the last hundred feet of Gespar’s plummeting fall. One of the figures that the kingdom revered as practically divine cracked into the earth with a sickening thump, and lay in a broken heap perfectly still. Less than a second later, the terrifying man in gray appeared next to the crumbled body. It took the knight a second to notice that the suited man’s hands were both missing at the wrist, and were rapidly regenerating before his eyes. Such powers were only available to beings from the lower and upper planes.
“Fuck.” He swore quietly as the black wings on his back faded away. “Didn’t expect him to have that one, much less use it to off himself.”
“Gray!” The cat girl rushed up to him. “He hurt you?”
“Just a scratch.” The man held up his now fully formed, just slightly off color hands and wiggled his fingers. “See...?” He looked past her and locked a cold stare onto the armored young man. “Who’s that?”
“He’s okay.” The girl assured him. “Didn’t hurt anyone.”
“There are people who do damage in ways other than violence.” He cautioned, stepping past her before suddenly appearing in front of the gawking young man.
A crushing, overwhelming presence crashed onto the knight, immediately collapsing him to his knees. The next words he heard came as a command, one he was compelled to respond to by the very root of his soul.
“Look in my eyes.” As if the words themselves took hold of his chin and wrenched his head up, the knight complied instantly.
He expected to see flaming sockets, or pits of sheer blackness. Instead he found a pair of grey, plain old human eyes staring back at him. This somehow unsettled the knight more than expected. Something was at work in his mind and body. He could feel the magical insinuations compelling him to not just obey the stranger but to worship him and swear total loyalty to him. Instinctively he pushed those feelings aside and held the penetrating gaze of the man by his own will.
“Huh, you really can resist it.” The tension left the man’s body and suddenly the knight found himself facing a man with a totally different personality. “Guess that’s why you could disobey that dick’s orders.”
The crushing feeling vanished, and a pale hand with pitch black nails appeared before him. He tentatively took it and was lifted effortlessly to his feet.
“What’s your name?” The question was delivered casually like one might hear from a stranger making small talk at a bar. The knight struggled to bring his senses to bear and understand the situation.
“Niles. My name’s Niles Fobb. My father is a low ranking noble and I just recently completed my knight’s training.”
“Gotcha. Oh shit hang on!” The man suddenly spun on his heel and vanished, reappearing next to the now unconscious tengu who was barely breathing.
“He must be going to put her out of her misery, poor woman.” Niles looked at his boots, feeling terrible that his own people had committed the terrible act and not having the stomach to watch her last moment.
The expected sound of the mercy killing never came, and Niles looked up tentatively. The man was kneeling beside her, lifting her up, and tilting her head back. In his free hand was a vial of golden liquid that radiated with magic power. It was a wondrous looking item, but the woman’s injuries were beyond what any known potion could recover.
“C’mon, wake up and take your medicine. You’re not done yet.” He said firmly.
A golden glow matching the color of the potion enveloped her a second later, and the man stepped back. When the brilliance faded, Raj sat up on her own. Every injury had healed, and beyond all belief her wings had been restored to their former glory. She was perfectly healthy, even the blemishes and scars on her cheeks were gone.
“What...?” The soft and raspy voice was beyond bewildered. Raj sat up and fearfully flexed her wings, looking from one side to the other in utter disbelief. “I’m dead, I’m sure that I died.”
“You were just mostly dead.” The suited man said and was apparently very amused by his own words because they came with a snorting chuckle. “There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead.” He added, gesturing from Raj to the crumbled mess of armor and gore that had been Gespar.” No one laughed. He covered the failed joke with a cough and leaned down to help the healed tengu to her feet.
All at once the stunned silence of the gathered crowd shattered into uproarious cheering. Niles looked all around him to see the people of Filam (most with tears in their eyes) celebrating wildly. They surged in all around them, holding out their hands, calling out blessings and cheers for the champion of Ariel.
The object of their admiration seemed less than pleased by the sudden attention. He backed slowly up the raised platform and raised his hands sheepishly. As if on cue to add to the once again growing chaos, the duchess Carmine regained consciousness and upon seeing the broken body of her older cousin began shrieking hysterically.
----------------------------------------
Episode 2: Epilogue
Carmine approached the magnificent throne room doors with faltering steps, weighed down heavily by the large clay pot in her hands and the gravity of the message she was about to deliver to her uncle. Three days had passed since the horrible Gray had so easily dismantled her whole existence. With a deep shuddering breath, she nodded to one of the the two royal guards.
The doors opened outward, and warm rose tinted light spilled out. She stepped into the enormous hall and memories of her childhood came rushing back to her. The first time she had come to this place was to receive the news that she was to be married off to some duke out in the sticks. That was fifteen years ago. She was eleven years old then, and the duke was sixty five. His first wife had been executed under suspicion of sleeping with one of the servants. The old man was a retired war hero, and a close friend of the king. The tales of his honor and heroism were scattered in many books and poems. In reality he was a disgusting lecher with a violent temper. Her life as the tortured prisoner of a deranged monster began in this grand hall under this enchanted rose quartz dome. Her own uncle, the wise and just king had sent her there. Had he known the true nature of Duke Filam? She feared the answer was likely yes. These thoughts swirled in her mind along with the fear of what the king might do when she told him what she must tell him.
The giant hexagon shaped hall could hold fifty thousand people, but was currently only occupied by two. Next to the throne was the king’s right hand. Supreme Justicar Typhon stood at his typical rigid attention, he looked exactly the same as he had fifteen years ago. The king’s appearance was hidden behind layers of divine enchantment and could only be be perceived as a glowing silhouette that fluctuated in color based on the king’s mood. It was currently a calm and cool bluish. Carmine lowered her gaze as she approached, and stopped at the appropriate distance of twenty feet from the throne. She dropped to her knees and placed the clay pot on the ground before her.
“You have leave to speak freely, duchess Carmine.” Typhon formally announced. His tone was unreadable. “The king desires to know what became of the forces we sent to your aid.”
“They were all killed your majesty.” She took care to speak clearly and at a proper volume. “A monstrous being and his servants appeared. They obliterated the Warlord’s horde and when Gespar denounced-” She was cut off by Typhon’s stern voice.
“Crusbilis Knight Gespar.” He corrected her. “His station will not be ignored by a mere duchess.”
“When Crusibilis Knight Gespar denounced the man’s achievements and ordered the city to be purged for the crime of supporting him...” Carmine paused to gather her courage and her words. “The man appeared and declared that he would save them. Crusibilis Knight Gespar attacked him then, and the blow could have felled a giant I swear to you, but it scarcely moved the man. Crusibilis Knight Gespar attacked again with all of his might, and the man stopped his blade with the claw of his pinky finger. In that moment our whole world was plunged into a gray ashen fog and that’s the last I remember. When I awoke, Crusibilis Knight Gespar, my cousin was nothing but a battered mess of armor and gore. The army of knights was simply erased from this world, and I was taken captive.”
“How did you escape, and what is that you have brought?” Typhon asked. The practiced mask of calm focus was beginning to slip, and a line was starting to appear between his thick brows.
“They took me to an enormous castle built by magic, and guarded by a great green dragon. There it was decided by the guildmaster and a few other ranking citizens that I would be sent in exile with a message for your majesty.” Carmine shook as the moment approached, and she lifted the lid from the jar. She tipped it until something finally rolled out.
Typhon’s eyes widened and the king’s aura darkened to nearly black. It was Gespar’s head, a tightly furled scroll jutted from his open mouth.
“Read the note, duchess.” Typhon practically growled. All pretense of calm had flown from his features now.
Carmine gingerly took the scroll and unfurled it. She had largely guessed the content but her stomach lurched as she began to read the tight, precise handwriting of Raj.
“To His Majesty King Gault III,
We the people of the city formerly known as Filam hereby declare our secession from your kingdom. This decision was made in response to the unprovoked attack by your forces. We will remain peaceful as long as no further hostility is brought against us. Know that any who approach with intent to do harm to our citizens will meet the same fate as the man bearing this declaration. Our leader, and exalted champion of the goddess Ariel, Gray will remain open to diplomatic talks for as long as you remain peaceful.
-Raj, Deputy Governor of Ariel’s Gate”
“The bastards.” The king’s rarely heard voice was barely above a whisper but rolled around the great hall like thunder. “Recall the Viper Company and the twins. I want these vermin dead before the first snow.”