I see they are no longer cowering like frightened hatchlings. Bahamut sent with amusement.

Yeah, they’ve gotten better. I never really thought about how terrifying Bael’tharax would be to other people. Aurelian admitted. The whole thought of ‘other people’ had become sort of a tertiary concern, honestly.

At least they are showing courage. It speaks well of their character.

Aurelian agreed silently with his companion while the three of them crossed the distance to Bahamut’s waiting father, and came to a halt near Tarixi’s ghost. When they finally noticed her, both Elyseans stopped and exchanged confused looks.

When Aurelian noticed, it was Karsys that spoke.

“Aurelian, you never told us that Tarixi was a Goblin. There must be some mistake.” the tall human said with a hesitant look at the hovering Echo. “She cannot be Elysean.”

Aurelian blinked and turned to face the human, both eyebrows rising while he did. “Excuse me?” he asked with confusion.

“Goblins and other tainted species cannot be Elyseans.” Zylara explained with the same evident confusion. “They’re subject species. Only Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and some Orcs are descended from the Empire.”

Aurelian stared at the pair of them in silent disbelief for a long moment.

Had he never mentioned, during his retelling, that Tarixi was a goblin? He searched his memory rapidly and realised that no, he had not in fact mentioned her species. It hadn’t even occurred to him to do so. His brows drew together, and he turned toward Tarixi and Bael’tharax—only to be preempted by the dragon’s voice.

“WHAT RANK IDIOCY IS IT YOU ARE SPOUTING, CHILD?” Bael’tharax thundered, loud enough to make Zylara and Karsys take a step back in shock. “TARIXI FIRESOUL WAS AN ACCOMPLISHED MAGISTERII OF THE FLAME. SHE WAS MORE ELYSEAN THAN ANY TEN OF YOUR MEWLING ANCESTORS PUT TOGETHER. SHE WAS A HERO, AND GAVE HER LIFE SO THAT THE LAST HOPE OF THE EMPIRE MIGHT SURVIVE. HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH HER MEMORY WITH SUCH VILE, UNFOUNDED, AND REPULSIVE RHETORIC.”

The dragon’s colossal head had moved closer by that point, and his golden eye was burning with disapproval, and a searing indication of wrath at what he had very clearly overheard. By that point of course, both Karsys and Zylara were frozen in either disbelief or fear, and the pair barely appeared to be breathing.

“Hold a moment, Bael’tharax,” Tarixi said into the tense silence that followed. “I am curious about these assertions. Something tells me that these two are not to blame for that rhetoric, as disgusting as it may be.”

She drifted closer with a brief smile of welcome to Aurelian, and then fixed her little fists on her hips and stared down at the two new arrivals.

“Elaborate quickly, before I let the Dragon King eat you.”

Bael’tharax growled to emphasise her point, and both of Aurelian’s new companions seemed momentarily frozen still by the force of the leviathan’s Soulforce.

“Jesus…” Aurelian muttered. “A little heavy, don’t you think?”

Tarixi didn’t appear to hear him, though he did see her spectral cheeks colour—if only slightly.

“We—Uh…!”

Aurelian sighed.

“Karsys. Zylara. Focus. Bael’tharax isn’t going to eat you,” he glanced at the old dragon warily for a moment. “I think.” he frowned, and turned back to them. “Just tell us what the hell is up with the whole racism thing.”

“R—racism?”

“Prejudice. Discrimination. Negative bias towards a species or ethnicity,” Aurelian said impatiently. “Just explain your view on Gobbos, guys.”

“Gobbos?” Tarixi asked in a bewildered and mortified tone.

Aurelian waved her off, and stayed focused on the two flummoxed ‘Elyseans’.

“Th—the Senate of Sanctuary, under the auspices of the elected Consul, decreed that Goblins, Gnomes, Selkies, Kobolds, Fairies, and all other lesser or beastly bloodlines be reclassified under law as subject races, in keeping with the discovered annals of ancient Elysea.”

“It happened millennia ago!” Zylara cut in with some semblance of defiance. “We weren’t even born when it was decreed. Charlemagne did nothing to stop it, so everyone simply assumed it had to be true. It… all the depictions of Elyseans look like Half-Elves with the occasional rare Orcish mix. We—we never thought anything of—”

“Of course Charlemagne let it happen,” Tarixi said with a grumble, and a long sigh of realisation. “Of course his Echo is still kicking around, and of course he’s in charge of a secret remnant of the Empire none of us knew about. The Imperator always said his value was far greater than his eccentric biases, but Lucius should have known something like this would happen in that sort of situation.”

Tarixi sighed again, and turned to Aurelian.

“Charlemagne disapproved of the blatantly non-human races because of that damnable origin world of his, and its mad mythology. He believed we were all monsters or some such idiocy. ‘Demons’, to hear him say it, waiting for a chance to steal everyone’s souls.”

Karsys and Zylara glanced at each other dubiously, but didn’t interrupt.

Aurelian grimaced. “I can believe that. Charlemagne ruled over an Empire mired in religious superstition and intense faith-based theocratic autocracy. He likely believed that there was some semblance of the old faith's truths in the Realms, and used your species as a focal point for his… I dunno… means to ground himself. I can see a devout Catholic attempting to rationalise his new existence that way.”

“But Charlemagne has guided Sanctuary for millennia!” Zylara interjected with a measure of her old confidence returning to her voice, though she very pointedly looked mostly at Aurelian—likely out of a need to try and ignore the immense dragon still glaring at her. “He’s been nothing but a boon to our people. Without him, we’d have never figured out how to tame the Desolation to the degree we have!”

When she finished, Bael’tharax’s eye slitted further with honed consideration.

“CHARLEMAGNE WAS A NIGH PEERLESS WARRIOR, GENERAL, AND ADMINISTRATOR. NOBODY IS REFUTING THAT FACT, CHILD. HIS VIEWS ON NON-HUMAN RACES WERE PROBLEMATIC AT TIMES, CERTAINLY, THOUGH EVEN I AGREE HE NEVER SEEMED THAT VIRULENTLY AGAINST THEM.”

“Very likely he just saw an opportunity and… let it happen,” Tarixi said bitterly while Zylara let out a shaky breath of relief. “I doubt the old grouch orchestrated it, he respected the Imperator too much to openly alter his designs that way, but if the elected Consul peddled the narrative…”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“...then Charlemagne would have no obligation to gainsay it,” Aurelian said while rubbing his forehead. “Fuck. Never meet your heroes, huh?” he looked at Tarixi afterward and grimaced. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about Sanctuary, and that you’re barely even affected by the news. I thought you’d freak out, honestly.”

“There is little to be truly excited over. These people may call themselves Elysean, but their races are Human and Elf—albeit a Storm Elf.”

She made the distinction with grudging approval.

“They are no more Elysean, no matter what they believe, than I am alive.”

“Excuse me?” Zylara said immediately. “Who are you to—?”

Bael’tharax growled again, and Karsys placed a hand on Zylara’s shoulder when she cringed at the dragon’s ire.

“The last true Elysean likely died millennia ago. You children…” Tarixi sighed heavily. “You have no idea what the name even means. You’re holding onto an identity, which is perfectly acceptable, but conflating it with genealogy as well. That is flawed.”

“What do you mean?” Karsys asked with a measure of genuine confusion.

“Elyseans were powerful because of Nephilim blood.” Aurelian explained before Tarixi could launch into a lecture, and earned himself a sour look from the goblin in the process. “You need the blood of the Nephilim to be considered Elysean. It’s why the Empire kept summoning people like me until it became, I dunno, problematic: to maintain the Nephilic blood, or something.”

“While crudely put, what Aurelian says is the truth.” Tarixi admitted grudgingly. “The Empire thrived because we were, all of us, blessed by power through Nephilic lineage. We summoned many Nephilim to sustain that strength, and while many integrated just fine, the few that didn’t…”

“CALAMITY IS NOT MERELY A NAME OF FANCY. NEPHILIM ARE EXISTENCES THAT EVEN WE DRAGONS LEARNED TO RESPECT, AND GRANT AN EQUAL STATUS OF POWER. THE MOST TERRIBLE OF THEM WERE CALAMITIES IN TRUTH, AND WERE CAPABLE OF BREAKING MOUNTAINS, BOILING OCEANS, AND SUNDERING THE SKIES.” Bael’tharax said with a measure of grim memory, and rumbling regret. It seemed that the Dragon King was recalling as much as he was telling a story, and not for the first time did Aurelian wonder what manner of tragedies he had been witness to, across the breadth of his immense lifespan.

“I thought Nephilim were a good thing for the Empire?” Aurelian asked. “I know it’s been mentioned they went crazy, but you never told me the details like this before.”

“You weren’t ready for the details,” Tarixi said with enough shame to sound apologetic, “but there’s no point holding back now. There is a dark secret to Nephilim that we have, truthfully, tried to hide—and I’m sorry you had to learn about it like this.”

“NEPHILIM WERE GIFTED WITH POWERS BEYOND COMPREHENSION, AND VERY NEARLY TORE APART THE WORLD WHEN EVEN ONE OF THEM WENT MAD—AND EVENTUALLY, THEY ALL DID.” Bael’tharax continued when Tarixi was done, his immense voice rumbling the cavern while Bahamut idly pranced along the elder dragon’s spine without a care in the world. “WE ARE MERELY LUCKY THAT SO MANY CHOSE DEATH OVER THE DESTRUCTION THEY WOULD DOUBTLESS BRING TO THEIR FAMILIES AND LOVED ONES, HAD THEY INSTEAD SOUGHT TO CLING TO LIFE.”

“So I’m doomed to go crazy?” Aurelian asked with a sense of growing horror.

“We aren’t certain.” Tarixi admitted. “Selucia Tollarius apparently had some measure of confidence that your specific calling would be different, but I cannot tell you how or why. I would assume, though, that she accounted for the Nephilic Curse.”

“Oh. Great. What a fucking name that is.”

“We… we can discuss this more in detail later.” Tarixi promised him. “After we deal with the matter before us. I promise.”

Aurelian gave her a leery look, but waved a hand in frustrated acceptance.

Time and place, I guess. He thought sourly.

“As for these false Elyseans—”

“We’re the true inheritors of the Mantle!” Zylara burst out before Tarixi could finish. “You can’t take that away from us because of something as—as irrelevant of who did or didn’t get fucked by a Nephilim!”

Aurelian’s eyebrows shot into his fringe, and he couldn’t help but approve of her vigour.

Even Tarixi, for all that she hated being interrupted, looked mildly impressed.

“Zylara is… impassioned, but she isn’t incorrect, honoured elder.” Karsys said quickly to Tarixi, and with a carefully diplomatic tone. “We do keep the Mantle. It is ours by right of birth.”

“Really now?” Tarixi asked in a tone that Aurelian could tell was forcefully patient. He could hear the warning signs of the goblin’s temper, having roused it more than once himself. “You do, do you?” she continued. “Right of birth, is it? Then recite it for me. The oath of the Mantle, I mean. Right here and now. Go on!”

Karsys and Zylara glanced at each other, and then to Aurelian, who just shrugged at them and nodded. The pair seemed to take heart in that, and launched into a perfectly synchronised recitation of something Aurelian could tell, immediately, was ceremonially important:

“By blood and blade,

By might and magic,

Under threat of pain,

Under threat of doom,

Never shall I waver.

For I am the Shield of the Deserving,

I am the Sword of Judgement,

I am the hunter that seeks,

I am the listener that heeds,

I am the guide who lights the way.

By the Sun’s paternal light,

By the Moon’s penitent glow,

I shall defend the righteous, the faithful, the pure.

Mine is the task of defending all worthy peoples,

And sheltering all lesser subjects of the Empire.

This is the Mantle of Elysea.

This is the Oath of the Chosen,

And its burden do I carry with pride.”

The pair finished the recitation and Aurelian resisted the urge to clap.

When he turned to Tarixi to see her reaction to their recitation, though, he was immediately alarmed. Instead of approval, or even an expression of being mildly impressed, what he saw was something else entirely—and something he’d never, in all the days he’d spent with her, seen on Tarixi’s face before.

Rage. Rage like he had never witnessed.

And beneath it pure, unfiltered, undisguised pain.

“Tarixi?” he asked carefully.

“How long?” she demanded of the two faltering and increasingly uncertain new arrivals. “How long has it been since it happened?”

“What… I am afraid I don’t understand, honoured eld—?”

“How long have you been reciting that thrice-accursed, wholly damned, garbage imitation of our most sacred oath?!”

“Tarixi, what’s going on? You asked them to—”

“That is not the Mantle, Aurelian!” Tarixi said while spinning to face him so fast her projection blurred slightly. “That… that is not the oath we swore, and those are not the words we live by. That is a binding! It’s a ritual spell! Those words are the declaration of fealty to our greatest enemy!”

“Wait, you mean—?” Aurelian turned to face his two companions, and activated his Dragon’s Gaze. With clumsy and forceful Intent, he pushed past the surface and pierced the veil between the physical and aetheric. His gaze narrowed, and he poured more focus and stoked Dragon’s Resolve to help him in seeking past the motes of mana, and through the nascent glow of Soulforce for what he wanted.

When he found his quarry, his spine went cold and a sick feeling filled his stomach.

Two radiant golden chains, far thinner than Marius’ own but very much present, shone like liquid sunlight from where they trailed their way up to, and through the cavern roof—each one anchored to Karsys and Zylara’s Cores.

“Fuck…” Aurelian whispered.

“INDEED,” Bael’tharax said with a low snarl. “THEIR ‘MANTLE’ IS A PRAYER OF FEALTY TO SOLARIUS.”