It was the understanding of numerous nations, that Morias and the Black Death were monsters beyond borders. Information regarding them should be distributed post haste. "Their deaths were more than a chance for glory." Each of them feels as though they understand that point. Yet that feeling remains unstable.
Her hair acted as a veil, keeping her away from the droning words of her instructor. 5 people and one monster in this classroom, and all of them were left in some useless building. Veilstar’s School for the Arcane was an absolute mess. The reign of Emperor Martin had become known as an utter failure over the land of Ghalileo. And of course, Mrs. Vrai was a witch.
The meaning of Witch and Warlock has had a very long history of divisions. Witches were court jesters, minor practitioners of the field of magic. They were the ones who amazed the small children with coins on the street corners. Sure a few great witches were known but always for something idiotic. Curse a prince for being a rude 5-year-old, like all prepubescents weren’t spawns of hell. Summoning some giant goat thing, one of the many devils from the library's coffers. Unoriginal schlock from creatively deficient hacks. It made Tempas sick. The point of her education was to escape that.
To be a Warlock.
Warlocks were the ones on the front line. They were feared for their understanding and their power. Not selling their soul or body at the altar for some god or devil-like filthy heathens, but real knowledge and real power. Understanding of the world crafting the beings around them. The immeasurable advantage of the Monster races was what gave them the lead. Magic. But humanity wasn’t gifted with the natural gift. They were simply rejected as they endured centuries of broken bones, burnt corpses, and forced elementals plaguing their every misstep. But look at where they were now. Top of the food chain.
In her free time. Tempas could be found deep in the library. Deep in her reading of what the world had in store. Of the paladins that graced the land with power gifted from the Gods. Of what it took to summon forth that power.
Tempas looked across the room. One of those Dragonlings. With a click of their tongue, they could reduce all of them to cinders. One of the Lightning ones too so it would be quick and easy. But here he was. No one knew his name, no one bothered. What did it matter? He was weak. The school day was over and he kept his head down the whole way out of the classroom.
“Absolutely Pathetic.”
The words were spat out of her mouth. But it didn’t matter. Those like him, wasting their time trying to abide by the world instead of shaping it would be quickly forgotten. She took her time in her books and surrounded by worms, she alone at her table would be the eagle soaring above them. Above them, above the kings. Created in her hands would be the one to slay the Black Death and Morias. Or the one to usurp them all together.
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The shining stained glass depicted hand over hand on the hilt of a solemn man’s sword. The smoke behind him glowed in the twilight. The eyes seen in them were cold. Sad. Accepting. As the congregation remained seated behind him, his Prominence held the blade. “Another shall be molded by our nation’s flame. Burn through this chilled night and all that hides in its darkness. Reseano shall burn with you.”
“Do you, Cain T Kent, hold this world in your highest regard?”
“I do.”
“Do you feel your respect for all the kingdom’s inhabitants and their hands on your back?”
“I do.”
“How do you feel?”
“Immense pressure. But this pressure will change me. I will either collapse or resist, be made stronger. On my back lies the kingdom and I will not let it fall. I refuse to even let it kneel.”
“Do you brag, squire?”
“I assure.”
“Do you bow?”
“Only to my king. To my Queen. To my duty.”
The blade fell on his left shoulder. Then to the right. As the blade was retracted, the blade cut through his cheek. He kneeled and stayed. Unflinching.
“Cain! Your strength will be known throughout the known lands! You will move oceans, and you will burn as the sun does! As a true Knight, you are the one who holds in this realm our power! Our Glory! Burn Bright! Burn Eternal!”
The screams echoed throughout the building. Of rage and despair. Joy and sadness. Pure force given an outlet after years of being trapped. As Cain’s mouth opened and his screams filled the halls, they felt it. His pain. His loss. The faceless Black Death as it stood on the mountain of Knights before him. His tears felt like acid down his face as it hit his cut. In a moment, he mourned. In the next, he burned.
Alight with flames, his skin felt like it was popping. The air in his lungs was hellfire. His vision was distorted by the heat and yet he knew. He was to stay firm. He was to keep his stance. The kingdom on his shoulders would not tolerate even a second of submission. The smoke came in front of him and within the clouds were eyes. Of those past. They looked down on him. He lift what charred remains made up his hand and in that instant, they were gone. All of it was gone.
The fire, the pain, the agony. All that was left was him. Broader shoulders. Firm muscles. And a gaze that silenced the whispers among the audience.
He lifted his sword.
Cain was purified.
Gallus had returned.
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Queen Calia knew what this meant. Knew what had come of this day. But they lacked faith in her. So it had to be done. The military men spread their orders amongst the troops. Tightlipped among their influencers on fear of retaliation. The operation had to commence.