The tower of our enemy was now only feet before us, our final obstacle had appeared. The door, however sturdy was no match for the now rejuvenated heir of the Maeldt estate, and fell to pieces after a single attack. The noise was sure to alert whatever enemies resided in this fortress of our arrival, but it mattered not.
Foes rushed at us upon entry, and we dismantled each attack as though it could never pose any threat. His grace did not give any unnecessary attention to the minions of this great evil, and even I did not find any struggle in dealing with the masses, for my sword allowed a quick deliverance of death to all those willing to jump at it.
Foe by foe, blood soon painted the walls of this fortress in our journey to the peak of this tower. There would lie our true enemy, the orchestrator of all. The primary threat to the Maeldt residence, the individual who must be sent from this plane by any means available.
The sun had not yet reached its peak in the sky, it did not yet cast shadows perfectly over our heads when we had found the room of this lord. Sitting on a throne staring at tinted glass with the image of his lord plastered over it. I understand now that a difference in faith must be his primary motivation. He seeks to bring the will of Loirel to the Maeldt estate, and when diplomacy did not yield pleasing results, he would rather resort to whichever underhanded tactics made themselves apparent than abandon his post.
Yet when this individual stood from their throne, when they elected to grace us with a view of the enemy before us, the person we had sworn to strike down, they understood well their ability to affect my mind with their appearance. My beloved, Francesca, stood before me.
"Betrothed, I see you have brought me the heir of the Maeldt estate as dowry." Her voice, divine, filling my ears with an unthinkable sensation, effortlessly rekindling a love lost over years of combat, the simple sound of her invited me to question a decade of service. Surely the Maeldt estate is at fault for driving us apart, if they had not presented themselves with weapons, prepared to strike down the life of mine and my beloved, then I would be able to live a life of bliss-
I had lost myself in fantasy and regained sense to find my very own blade pointed at his grace. Francesca gifted me a grin that would bring an army to its knees, one that would invite a king to abdicate his title. Yet I did not understand the will of my beloved, I escaped the ability to grasp her reasoning, no, to understand her. I explained well why I trusted in his grace, and why I believed in him. She held my hand after a night of conflict and told me she would let me serve him until I had completed all that was necessary.
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Yet as I hold my blade up to his grace, the man responsible for my current abilities, the man who has kept me alive, I understand well the truth of my "beloved." A soldier yearns for home, yes, but he yearns for devotion most of all. Any opening, any disbelief harbored by a man is a path to temptation, the soldier will seek to devote himself to a new source, an opening for those with ill intentions, an opening that this sorceress has filled with false memories of herself. She has intruded on my mind, inscribing her presence on memories that belong to me.
Yet my discovery of the truth, in all its beauty and regality fell on the ears of a man who had been lured away from his post. My body moved in accordance with the orders of another, a bewitching figure who had found the perfect disadvantage to exploit. Yet even as I am whisked around against my will I must concede my own fault. It was my faith that faltered, for she did not create an opening in my mind of her own ability. Opportunism was the name of her tactic, and what had I done if not provided her with the perfect opportunity?
I engaged in battle with his grace, or more accurately this sorceress had engaged in battle with him, using my body and my blade as a medium for her goal of toppling the Maeldt estate.
O' temptation, how could I fall victim to your devilish allure! I understand well that you are a tool abused by many, and yet my knowledge provided no aid. In my darkest moment, my mind ceased to be and all that remained was a vessel, a collection of flesh prepared for the next order. I lost my will at the same moment I had lost my way, and now I must watch as the consequences of my infidelity lead me astray!
This plane is torn by our battle, and yet such is not the true pain of this event! A commander of the Maeldt estate relinquishing his beliefs for even a moment, a blunder that will be known for centuries! Shall this sorceress prevail with me as her machine, or shall his grace remain triumphant over this fraction of true evil I am to be damned in the eyes of all!
Memories of a battle not yet had flashed before my eyes, as I regained my senses for a final moment, looking up at his grace as a lie undoubtedly defeated on a ruined meadow.
His grace would always remind the soldiers of the estate of the core tenet that he abides by.
The damned and weak are not alike; They are one and the same.
It is no more damning that he repeats this line now, for I understand my role in the history of his reign well. The fool who allowed the longing for another to drive a line between him and his lord. Yet as I prepared to depart unresolved, he, in an act of infinite generosity left me with forgiveness.
"Despite this, commander. You do not deserve damnation, for even now I cannot see anything but a representation of the strong."
His true departing gift was that of a smile, not covered by but rather exemplified by the sunlight.
With such an existence, even as I sunk below all land, how could I not do as such with sadness in my heart?