Cessine City Fortress
Higher Districts
Fallen Canary Estates
The completely abandoned and decimated mansion of the Fallen Canary creates a foreboding image in mind. Once a grand estate of wealth and power, the area could now only be seen with multiple scars of destruction and battle.
And in this night, a lone figure was entering the broken halls of the mansion.
The woman held on to her cloak, defying her tired body to move forward.
Reinforcing her concealment magic, she moved expertly on the remnants of the left wing. She was not here when Delica raged with an army of Undead as if to trample everything that connects her to the living.
The intruder was none other than Cerylde of Gesam'e, a Second-Tier Expert Dark Mage. Passed the second of her decades, she was part of the Gesam’e found in the Austrine Region.
The town was long since broken from the 3rd siege of invasion from the Last Demon War, two solstice before she was recruited at age fourteen.
Her family--her grandfather and a younger sister, survived but suffered so many losses, they could have been left for death.
It was only due to her potential to break the second tier barrier that she was able to sustain their very lives, or what's left of it.
Her progress in dark aether and poisons had caught the eye of one of the high banners. Cerylde was by far not the most talented nor a very experienced mage, but her specialty in brewing apothecial herbs and antidotes was superior even among the ranks of The Hero's Crusade, however her prowess was not enough to land her in the frontlines.
It was her, being weak that made her breathe.
It was later in the time of peace did that ‘high banner’ offered for her services, even if her status now hardly progress beyond her current tier no matter how hard she trains.
This in fact more preferable for employers since a static maegus means that they could never outrank the structure that was already established. Her role in the Catacombs was a fixed one, compared to the elite mages that were being groomed for higher magic.
And so, her being inadequate made her continue living.
And two nights ago, her being weak (in another matter entirely) made her run away, which again saved her life.
The very night ‘she’ handed over Lady Delica’s soul fragment to Lord Herald Reculus.
She doesn’t know whether she should laugh or cry.
There’s nothing more to be done. She did what she did and Young Lady Delica…
Drown in thoughts of the past, she wrapped her palm on her inventory bracelet, making sure to secure the metal clasps, and trying to remember the very words written on a simple note inside her spatial chest--a note inviting, more of demanding, her to this place once again.
Cerylde paused on one of the remaining drawing rooms that were still intact. The vine stenciled wallpapers and floored panes still show the evidence of the Gold Banner.
But instead of entering, she took a deep calming breath and knocked. An action that would have received questioning glance if anyone else was present, afterall no one should be here. But just a few seconds later, a voice from inside called her to come in.
When the dark mage entered, she adopted a serious countenance and gave a humbled stare at the man seated at the study table in the corner.
The man was simply sitting laidback in the study room, reading some parchments on his hands while his legs were carelessly crossed on the table.
The walls were covered with cabinets filled with leathered books, and a lone alchemical lamp gave a haunting gleam on the ironed brass furnishings. Raising his eyes on the woman, he righted his reading optics and was courteous enough to correct his posture.
Placing his hand on his chin, he commented, “First light to you Cerylde. You really came, I was wondering if I should fetch you, myself.”
“First light indeed, Emblem Chevalier Eudine of Cessine Regalia.” she recited perfectly, “by fetch you meant hunted to the depths of Second Realm?”
They want her dead. They all asked for her permanent silence in all of this affair.
A beautiful smile came from the man. He wore the mantle of Cessine Regalia and the three-star Sudri Rubies on his vest. An impeccable white tunic could be found beneath the armored riding habit he was wearing.
“Now now, you know I am just here for negotiations. Could we do as much without ill will?”
“Where’s Musre?” she asked, ignoring his half-hearted plea for a truce.
The Emblem paused for a second before confessing, “Dead, though I hope it will not affect our dealings?”
Chevalier Eudine expected her to become emotional, but instead she took the news calmly which made him relaxed considerably. Dealing with dark mages was never his strong points.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
He didn't counted that Cerylde have already prepared for that possibility. She knew that the moment the Herald of Sila-ir falls, Musre would be the first shield to be destroyed, but now that her fear was confirmed, only acceptance could follow. It was her sin, this pain was to be expected.
“Where’s his body?”
“Why?”
“Nothing. I was wondering if I could use his corpse for my Undead. It’s very hard to get hold of potential carcasses these days, now that most talents were dead with the passing war.”
She replied, not wanting for the Chevalier to know how much Musre meant to her. But there was no point to it at all,
“Surely you jest.”
“Of course I am joking.”
“Hmm, unless you want us to scoop his ashes from the wall fragments, that’s the best we could offer.”
“I was joking, please set it aside Emblem. I don't think we have the time for grave rites.” I can’t even bury him.
It took all her will not to gave way to the sting of her eyes of the dryness of her throat. Meeting this man was already a step to her grave. They have no need of her and the possibility of her getting out of this alive was a short straw.
She remembered the very day the young lady Delica came under her ward. A wonderful bundle of light that was amazingly out of place on the Catacombs. Everytime she taught her the arts, Delica would be excited and filled with unbridled passion to learn. Not once did she treated Cerylde an inferior. And yet not one moment did the face of sadness and compassion drop from her young face when she treated the corpses.
The Necromancers of Sila-ir’s job was to ward off the negative mana filtered from the dead--clear off the curses and poisons they bring to affect the living. In an effect, they act more like priests to guide the souls that might rise to vengeful shadows.
To expose the young lady to such environment, what was Lord Reculus thinking! Even if one of their beliefs revolves around one of the Ancients, God of Dark Myrkva of Hallow and Shadows, we, mortals, were all under his cloak , it was too much for a child to bear!
The practice of dark aether was strictly regulated. Even their most common magic, [Undead] could only be of use if and only when the soul had submitted to a practitioner’s words. Undead that independently festers from natural miasma was an abomination.
It fed on the remnants of a soul’s shadow and negative mana left behind from their living sufferings. Their very destruction was a specialization of the necromancers and dark mages, which makes them acceptable in the society even with their stigma associated with death.
As the only advance dark mage in the Catacomb's retinue, she also instructed and protected the young lady. Keeping her from the crueler side of their practice.
Delica, as with most neophyte of dark arts, first assignment came at cleaning corpses. The very first step was to take away our natural disinclination to anything about death, then the process of acceptance of life’s own impermanence. Respect and prayer. This was the way it has always been.
And so the young lady started as a mere assistant, learning about the anatomical processes, and the doctrine of death, curses, miasma, and the basic constitution of Undead and how to counter each of them.
It was their negligence as one of Delica's ward not to notice the curse embedded on one of the bodies. And when she rushed to the scene, one of their elite mages was dead, their head necromancer critical and Delica was dying on the floor. The hostile accursed body has been neutralized.
It was that moment that this very man came to their head necromancer's aid.
When the chaos reached head knight Musre, her companion and a friend, he comforted her and was convinced that this very man could help them.
It sickens her.
Whatever they did to young Delica, whatever it was, she can't help but be convinced that she has a hand in all of it.
But more than anything she was there! If only she knew! If only...regrets, all she has were regrets.
She should have just accepted fate and stopped their Head Maester, but how could she--or anyone accept snuffing the great spark that could have become of the young lady?
How could she let the potential of young lady Delica be wasted under her very watch?
Just as the Emblem offered to save the young lady, they all readily agreed. The Emblem represents the Regalia, the very symbol of good that fought, time and time again, the evil of demons that were worse than the nightmare of any Undead. And this, they offered Lady Delica's salvation.
But everything was wrong.
Her knowledge on black sorcery was limited but the vile Corpse Spy--shredding once soul…
Oh Gods of Eight Ancients! What have she done?!
And what's worse, when she confessed to Lord Reculus. The Herald merely looked at her in the eye and asked if it would change anything. And when she answered truthfully--that no one would find the difference, that everything would be just as it was...he smiled and congratulated her for a job well done and proceeded to have a 'talk' with the Emblem.
The other surviving mages in Delica's quarters during her half-death, however, suffered the brunt of Canary's penchant for cruelty.
No, she must not think of that or she might faint.
She prayed to her gods and willed her pain and fear towards the Emblem who in first glance could be mistaken to an angel.
“My family?”
“Still sleeping in your house, where you left them. Your sister was growing particularly well. She'll be starting to the Training Grounds, I presume?”
“Next solstice.” then she paused glaring at the man, “you're not...going to hurt them.”
“Of course not. But you would.” Your decisions would. “Now, your service has been well received--”
They already have all of the Young Lady of Canary's memory records. Unfortunately, they all have been filtered and only contains the memory slides of Young Lord Simos, just as instructed.
The capacity of one memory globe was already limited. From dusk 'til dawn was the limit of one processed Data Ore (24 hours), afterall the plan was to span for years.
The plan to monitor and observe the young lord of Canary.
But there was nothing there about the Blank.
Nothing about the Blank's talk with the Lady Yuusha in a language the Babel could not fathom, nothing about the way the Hero addressed the young dark boy. Or even a single image of the Blank.
This was Cerylde's rebellion. A small one, not even worthy of a butterfly's heartbeat. But hers nonetheless.
“We only just need one thing from you, Miss Cerylde.”
The Emblem stood and gracefully went towards her. The looming presence petrified her that she can't even back away even if she wants to. Then with a calm serenity, she heard his voice.
“Please kill yourself.”
Ha...haha, how disappointing. Is this their mercy?
“Understood.” she murmured “and in exchange, everyone of my relatives will not be harmed.”
“Of course. You have my oath on the truth of my name."
She was surprised at the stillness of her own statements. But none of these put her at ease. Their exchange of words felt so distant as if they were merely talking about the weather.
She's going to die now.
“May your Shadow finds its way to the Threads, Miss Cerylde.” he replied.
He handed her a vial. She recognized the purple liquid, a poison of her own making. She made it during her apothecary works under the fallen Canary. Her mind don't even want to question how it ended up with the Emblem, or even as to why.
Her weakness kept her alive, at least, this very sentiment gave her courage to face its end. And forcefully drank the vial on one gulp.
No I don't want to die.