[At least, according to historic tales retold and passed down
With time’s passage, however, many have begun to wonder
According to traditional tale,
The Crown of Smiles was ‘borne’, or driven, by the hearts of man;
A reflection of that which existed deep in heart
Thus, a question has arisen from these implications,
Regarding what came first.
Was it the Crown of Smiles which had corrupted mankind’s hearts?
Or perhaps was it the hearts of man which had corrupted Smile’s Crown?]
----------------------------------------
Antica’s mask-obscured ignited eyes stared into her terminal device’s screen, seeing all that which Fly surveilled and imaged. She had compartmentalized her screen, having the generated coordinate map of this burnt settlement in the corner whilst Fly’s visual feed retained focus supremacy. Although, with a simple tap she could switch between the two.
Nevertheless… She could see both the lifeless corpses of vanquished lives as well as the dehumanized hollow tags marked by Bee’s monitoring oversight.
One hundred and twelve was the preliminary estimate total from direct count of what remains were first tag-marked and extrapolating the likelihood of the remainder; albeit, due to the conditions of the bodies and…the fact that many were…scattered pieces, there was a degree of error between one hundred and ten and one hundred and twenty-three—overestimation from falsely flagging the chunks of one person as…multiple.
Initial auric scan and echo differentiation, however, had yielded an estimate total between eighty-nine and ninety-seven… A smaller margin of uncertainty, perhaps, albeit with error in the opposite direction—underestimation of the true death count. This was to be expected, considering the complexities of essence generally and that certain causes of death—specific brain destruction, vampiric devoration, et cetera—did not always leave behind discernable ‘echoes’. Bee did not have advanced or specialized residual essence analysis capabilities, either.
Nevertheless, unlike their deceased hosts, essence remained singular regardless of decay state, and the auric scan allowed for the detection of dead that were otherwise obscured to Bee’s direct observation, filling in the gaps. Thus, applying the proper corrective methods, from these two estimates a more comfortable estimate of one hundred and two…point five…was yielded. Obviously, point five of a being could not exist…
Indeed, this was all…mathematical and statistical conjecture in absence of a comprehensive evaluation of each and every corpse.
Regardless, the bodies were not distributed in any particular pattern; simply dispersed and scattered… Every indication suggested a mass panic had occurred; this was obviously a surprise attack.
It was evident that large monstrosities—griffons—had rampaged through this settlement, their impressions evident especially from Bee’s altitude. However, many of the bodies had slices, cuts, gashes, and other wounds indicative of primitive weaponry, never mind the clusters of burnt corpses suggesting possible entrapment before immolation. Thus, not exclusively those chimeric monstrosities, but also those others who so controlled them—or lack thereof.
Indeed, forensic assessment from Fly’s visuals suggested the personnel involved were dismounted, distributed, possibly outnumbered, and had likely exerted little control over their flying chimeras… Though this was more guesswork than factual.
What was certain, however, was that…analysis from both Fly’s sensors and Bee’s own instruments had also picked out free-floating quintessence and associated decay radiation as well as exotic traces in both the smoke and residual composites, indicating that arcane processes were involved in conflagrating this settlement—likely fire magic.
Antica continued to observe and deduce, eyes remaining locked to, entrapped by, the screen and all that it displayed, occasionally changing tabs to review the collected logs. The world around her had long gone mute; she paid not even mind to the unicorn whose own eyes towered closely behind, as if peering over her shoulders to happen a glance at the visuals of death being displayed.
And, truly, the condition many of the bodies were in… The things they must have experienced and felt before death… It was as if the traumatic shock and tormenting terror were trapped frozen in their lifeless eyes.
It was difficult to conceptualize…what exactly Antica was experiencing as her sight beheld all that which Fly witnessed and surveyed. That all-consuming inhibition had long taken its hold, flattening any affect; numb, hollow, and as cold as the withering heat of those lifeless persons.
Her cognition appeared purely utilitarian. Indeed, her principal concern this moment was merely the likelihood that many of these echoes were…noisy, dangerously noisy, thus the potential sources of future anomalous activities or the potential attractors of things…far worse… In which case, the denizens would reap what they had sowed… Huh, an irrational thought of hers, indeed.
Certainly, despite the frigid grip of her essence-encoded affect regulations and instilled conditioning, deep down within her mind’s shadow, she was still feeling so much indeed; strange feelings festering and boiling, yet never more so incomprehensible than during moments like this.
Even so, however, she could…perhaps just a little…discern within this moment, as her sight remained locked, that…she hated these sights. They pierced into her with familiarities seen eons prior time and time again, as if those mangled seas of death and vanquished dreams flashed on repeat over and over.
Truly…in every possible definition…she hated these sights. She hated them as much as she despised those stars staring down from behind the waning blue-sky, judging every last one of them with utter contempt. Yet… Frankly, in this moment, Antica could hardly blame the stars. For most certainly indeed, how pathetic of a sight…
She had to remind herself that this…atrocity was committed by the likes of humanity, and not that which she and those like her were most accustomed to, even though the bodies…their conditions…the horror and terror… It was so hard to tell; she hated that fact.
Truly… Despite everything she had experienced this past year, from Coastfield, to her journey, to now, she still could not understand the why. Time and time again, these denizens have constantly found ways to make her simply feel so…
Disappointed.
Disappointed that, despite being naive to the stalking nightmare, they always found ways to make their affairs—their lives—needlessly nightmarish, justifying their actions with imagined constructs and abstracted values that in respect to the grand scale of everything…were absolutely and unequivocally nothing.
Disappointed that, despite being given the opportunity to be something…different, something…better, they only demonstrated themselves to be no different…if not worse.
Though, she was in no position to judge harshly. Such was ultimately the expectation for denizens. In the end, it was neither her place nor purpose to prohibit these denizens from being what denizens were; it was neither her purpose nor obligation to solve their contradictions nor intervene in their self-inflicted misery, to stop their bickering. It was their prerogative to discover their stupidity and the means to stop; to develop on their own, unmolested…
Yet it is your prerogative to intervene in such affairs if necessary and relevant
Your Remnant’s bygone Authority had done such countless times eons before
In fact, notoriously so once upon a time
Truly, it is not as though you had ever consistently adhered to your own ‘codes’
And a hero constantly bogged down in such…
‘Rules of Engagement’ and ‘mandated protocols’
Is ultimately…
A boring hero.
There was nothing Antica could do besides search for survivors, to which she already knew from that prior auric scan…there were none to be found. Even so, there was always that chance… That chance Bee’s limited sight had missed something; that chance that…she had missed something. She hoped that, maybe…just maybe…, a living tag would blip onto her coordinate map.
Yet as the sun began to fall down from the dimming sky, such never manifested… It was no longer a matter of possibility as much as fact of reality: there were no survivors; every last one of them was dead.
Antica sighed…and pressed her communicator.
« Fly. Desisté. Ad me retirá. »
She had seen enough, and Fly’s continued searching would be useless; a search that was already becoming difficult to discreetly do now that Novea and the other two were gathering the bodies to bury, having dug a large ditch at the settlement’s wide empty center.
Antica cut Fly’s visual feed to the unicorn’s puffing dismay to which she paid zero mind, focusing exclusively on the coordinate map… Hm. Nothing of further relevancy.
Her mask-obscured eyes finally withdrew their focused sight from that digital screen… She tried to focus on the colorless darkening world around; she tried to focus on the blowing wind and cold air surrounding about, fresh with charred scent; she tried to focus on the tunes of nature’s indifferent choir; yet as if caught in the event horizon, she could not escape her shadow’s pull.
Indeed… It was well obvious that this atrocity was merely a part of a greater extermination operation. And she did not like the fact that no personnel were left behind to clean up the mess and…prevent unauthorized interference. This suggested many things, such as them not having the numbers; though, it was possible that another detachment was on their way to secure this site, which would be a…problem.
Hm…
She pressed her communicator.
« Bí, raise altitude and vigilá forças belligerentes proximitate; informá me și advançare nos apparent. »
Affirmating beep-boops buzzed from her communicator. Bee will inform her if any denizen forces appeared to be making way towards them. However, beyond that…
Hm…
« Fly. Çhanģeù menți: remané. Be hidden and stand by. »
She could use Fly to urgently get Novea’s attention in the event such was deemed necessary; albeit…Novea’s corvid was in the area and could also forewarn.
Regardless, with that done, Antica stood by and waited. Such was the extent of what she could do. She was under strict orders to not fight or…really do anything without explicit authorization, and she was in no mood to do anything unnecessary.
Yet… There was a cold silence in the winds, but within which were still…the unmistakable screeches of griffons, so faint and distant. Her mask-obscured eyes found themselves drifting… Deflagrating smoke, she noticed, in the horizon far away… Another settlement, no doubt; one of many such.
Indeed… Right now, in this moment, whilst she stood there…doing nothing, those sights and scenes…were repeating themselves over and over; screams and pleas echoing on beyond life, borne by wildering souls trapped in final imprinted moments.
However, primitive ordinances aside, Remnant engagement regulations and operation directives were both clear: unauthorized interferences in local denizen affairs were prohibited beyond operational necessity. Provided that they did not engage or interfere with her, she was not to interfere with them. Thus, intervention was not under consideration. Yet… The fact she even had to remind herself so…
Antica remained stationary, yet much began to move internally, festering and eating… She felt strange, indeed, exceedingly so; as if contradictions were combusting within yet remained unprocessed despite still felt.
Her ignited eyes returned to her terminal device’s screen, once again evaluating the coordinate map, staring at that digitized settlement of generated polygons and glowing lines. As she stared and reflected, she felt more numb… Yet, oddly, within that numbness, remerging, was that…weird burning sensation; one so frigid despite being so fiery. She could barely recognize its presence, despite its effects.
« Hm. » Antica mumbled, zooming in on the coordinate map. « Smart… » She began to muse, distracting her attention… So far, there were no indications that ground forces were involved; this was likely a purely aerial operation, making use of the advantages of those flying chimeras. She garnered immediate mobilization to respond to this kind of…surprise aerial shock-incursion would be difficult given local developmental levels.
However… She still found their tactics slobby… Abhorrent, messy, and needlessly cruel… Always better, it was, to end things faster than their brains could process; than they could feel…
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Antica sighed, her attention falling astray… Truly, the fact she was even critiquing their ‘strategy of extermination’ was an irony not lost on her whatsoever.
Truly, neither she nor the Remnant were in any positions to judge. Though, of course, everything the Remnant had to do; everything she had to do; everything…she had done; was only ever out of necessity, not…
“I refuse. I have that choice, and I am exercising it…”
Such words heard not so long ago abruptly flashed into her mind, practically smacking.
“Choice…” Antica’s breaths expunged… « Çhoix… » she repeated. Although she knew the definition, that single world had nevertheless struck her so, piercing her weirdly and strangely…ever since she had heard it uttered in such a way.
Indeed… ‘Choice’. The Remnant had no choice; she had no choice. These denizens, however, did… Even if their abstractions had deluded themselves into believing they did not.
« …to all conjuncts: prepare to decimate by fire if they refuse compliance! »
All so suddenly did such words from eons long faded slam into her mind, her cyanic ignited eyes ‘flickering’ with a slight mutating tint as she froze stunned in place, an all too…familiar invading sensation entering essence.
Yet she could hardly attend to the intruding elements, for all she saw were those leaking images and sights, eroded and fragmented… Familiarities, moments, and memories…still lingering.
Indeed… In many instances, the Remnant…perhaps…did have a choice.
But… Did she have a choice? Had she ever any choice?
For indeed, she did…what was only ever necessary… She did what she was directed to do; mandated to do; ordered to do… Yet…in other cases, she mandated things herself, she directed her…things to… But never to… Only to…
Frozen, her shallow breathing amplified as her mind was flooded with thought after realizing thought… Only for it all to abruptly flatline, affect emptying…as if an emergency switch prevented a cascade from befalling.
She remained static as if nothing happened.
Yet, even so… « Çhoix… » Her thoughts stabilized but that word lingered… ‘Choice’… Something about that word felt deceptive and illusionary, yet so…binding and…weird, delusionally so… « Una ‹ çhoix ›, ehm? »
Truly, it was redundant to linger on such pointless abstractions of whether or not she or any of them had a so-called ‘choice’. In the domain she operated within, such was always rendered so utterly moot.
“Not ‘want’, for a desire implies choice, and we have none.”
As if stinging her mind, such words abruptly flashed…
If desire implied choice, then at what point did she or any of them ever have any desire in any of this? In what they had done and became… She did not have any such ‘desire’, nor did the Remnant, yet… What were their desires? Points and objectives… The purpose of everything…
Lost to time’s decay
You all are nothing more than redundant leftovers
Abandoned souls trapped in eternal corpses
“…‘desire’…” Antica mumbled… « Desirațion… » That word lingered, yet she herself could not conceive anything from it. Her mind blanked; there was nothing there, or at least…nothing grand. She followed, fulfilled, and executed; she had no other so-called ‘desires’ besides…
That burning feeling within, tugging and calling… Indeed… Maybe there was a vague ‘desire’, yet one illogical, unauthorized, and prohibited… Yet…
Hmm… She began to cogitate.
Although operation regulations and protocols were still active, the operation itself had experienced a total collapse of its command and structure, the presiding commandant and presumably everyone else…having perished in service—besides, save, she herself… And given her…technical…command authority or ‘rank’, that made her the presiding commandant.
And considering contact with higher command was broken, operational oversight fell to the discretion of the presiding commandant—which was now her. Therefore, she had total discretion amending and modifying operation regulations, protocols, and directives, including definitions of relevancy and determination of warranted intervention, at least with respect to general Remnant protocols and engagement adherences.
Hm…
She returned attention to the coordinate map, focusing on those three specific tagged blips… Denizen blue but with a distinct cyan outline. In their domain, she was subordinate to them… However, in the Remnant’s domain, those three were designated collaborators and consequently… « They are under my oversight… » Her thoughts actually bled out… « J’obligùr enșeurare securitatem… »
She was obligated to ensure their security… And considering the presence of active belligerents within this locality, it was within her prerogative to…at least send advanced reconnaissance.
Hm… A desire and now…a justification…
Indeed, she pressed her communicator.
« Bí, directiva nova: Rise and withdraw. No protests. Markaștene éllos contactons aereons—chimaeras—encountered departing from this settlement, no? Trace and hunt; report as soon as found. Vulo șcire quid oți façhant núc. Tag belligerents and survey communities in route. »
Beep-booping in acknowledgment, her sentinel’s active monitoring of the village ceased, as it swiftly did as thus…without protests.
Thus, now began the wait.
Strange feelings began to emerge… Anticipation? Eagerness? She did not know; she could not comprehend… All there was, was that burning sensation seething within, yearning…to find the griffons responsible, and she was going to find them.
What she was going to do after, she did not know…
-|-
Bingo. Her cyanic eyes somewhat brightened, staring into the digital screen. Her right-ear buzzed with beeping boops of spotting arrival. It had taken her sentinel no time at all; sentinels in general were…fast, stupidly so when in a hurry.
New data and information came bumping, her local M.C.S generating a coordinate map of this new scene playing out somewhere someplace far away else.
A village. Ninety highlights were immediately marked and tagged. Thirty pinks and sixty blues; chimeras and their…riders—or, rather, rider and passenger; all dismounted. Data from Bee’s monitoring sensors indicated active usage of the arcane. Ah, so she was right. The fires were the product of arcane specialists… Thus, knight and mage.
Antica could judge enough from the blips’ movements and the changes in the outlined shapes… As well as simply looking at…Bee’s observation logs.
They were finishing up, it seemed. The arcane specialists were burning the settlement. The knights themselves were no doubt searching for survivors and would-be escapists, though preliminary assessment did not indicate any determinable survivors.
Such was the common observation witnessed throughout Bee’s quick surveying in route. Villages burnt and razed, soulless besides echoes left behind. Yet, despite the scale of this extermination already, Bee had not actually detected so many chimeric aerial forces active. This suggested a smaller scale operation than she had expected, involving only a few intermediate-sized squadrons such as this one that relied on sheer speed, precision, and rapid work rather than swarming destruction.
Hm…
« Bí. Jump altitude and quick proximity search: other denizen settlements with discernable living. Marká posiționes mappad coordinatad. »
Her sentinel beep-booped in acknowledgement and proceeded to do just that. It required more time than she would have preferred, however Bee nevertheless identified the remaining settlements closest to the griffons, tagging their coordinate positions for her general M.C.S.
Hmm… Zooming out, she evaluated… There were many, but not too many; it seemed almost more settlements were destroyed than surviving. However, by now these communities were most certainly alerted to what was going on.
Without her commanding, Bee refocused on the principal settlement below sight…
« Hhm… » she mumbled… They were still there. But it was only a matter of time until they were finished and back in the air…
What to do, what to do… She had found them, though now what?
This was just reconnaissance and nothing more, yet…
Abruptly, thirty new contacts emerged within Bee’s immediate scope; circular blips but with two triangular shapes, so-called ‘wings’, floating left and right—a denotation of flying tags… Chimeric pink outlined with denizen blue; merged highlights—griffons and riders.
Ugh… It was already well established that multiple squadrons of griffons were involved, yet…she only had one presently active sentinel.
Hm… She refocused on that village…
Watching it was pointless; it was dead.
« Bí, persequé novas. »
Bee immediately detached focus and began to follow those nascently marked griffons in flight, stalking from higher altitude.
They were heading for one of the remaining settlements, it became clear.
« Advançá destinaționem eorùm. »
Bee acknowledged by speeding fast, arriving to the griffons’ destination in advance. Surveying and monitoring, new information came flowing, a new coordinate map being generated; tagged highlights and blips were marked.
This settlement was larger and had an encircling barrier—‘palisades’. The inhabitants seemed concentrated, the surrounding fields abandoned. Many were certainly taking refuge, however…it was evident from their positions that… Indeed, formations… They had organized some kind of defense, seemingly.
Even so, the griffons arrived with speed, splitting two ways; ten went for the fields, twenty went for the village… And those twenty griffons were enough to effortlessly smash right through the hapless defenders despite being outnumbered.
The attacking blips lost their ‘wings’, the knights likely dismounting… Antica watched as blue blip after blue blip became lifeless hollow tags, only able to tell whom was who by paying close attention to their movements and positions. Although the arcane—presumably fire magic—was detectably being used to destroy the fields, there was no detectable usage against the defenders… Either the arcane specialists were staying out of the slaughter or…maybe the knights were too close? She had no visuals to confirm anything, only data, logs, and signatures.
Nevertheless, their kill-rate was slowing… The defenders were putting up quite the fight…
Suddenly, a chimeric tag turned lifeless, from which a blue blip popped out…before immediately being hollowed, followed by another blue blip near… Possible firearm discharges, Bee’s observation logs reported. Huh… Such would explain much.
Yet, firearms or not, more defenders were disappearing than attackers… Indeed, as if in direct reply, arcane signatures flared. Magic—presumably fire—was now being used against the villagers…
« Phí… » She hated this watching, even if it yielded valuable information.
What to do… What to do… She mused…
How to make this stop?
It was a certain inevitability that every soul within that village would be reduced to echoes lost to time… Yet her affect remained cold and methodical… Watching while souls perished, doing…nothing.
Hm… Antica’s eyes withdrew from the screen, peering about…
« Solù eșom… » Right… She was right here, alone. Bee was all the way over there, alone…
No…direct connection.
Hmm… She returned her eyes to the screen… Night was befalling… Yet Novea, Blue, and Red were not done… At this rate, those griffon knights will be finished with this extermination well beforehand and may opt to return to prior razed sites, including…the one presently being trespassed on—a potentially dangerous situation for those three under her oversight.
Certainly… Taking preemptive measures to end local hostilities to prevent interference with Remnant personnel and or potential endangerment of collaborators would conform with Remnant protocols, so as long as she did not kill or injury any of them—severely.
Yet… Her breaths tensed with grave hesitancy and indecision…
« We are neither their conquerors nor liberators; we are their shield against the night sky… » Such bygone words radiated through time, carried by flickering ignited eyes.
Truth be told, she had enough forsaken echoes abandoned across time, whose chasing screams demanded answers she could not provide. And the more blip after blip, person after person, become lifeless while she did nothing but watch, the more and more that strange…burning only burned and burned, eating at her within.
She wanted it to stop… And she knew how to make it stop.
Thus, with a single press…
« Bí, immediate directive: drop altitude and prepare to fire; single concentrated lance: high-charge. Await targeting zone. »
She finally issued.
{S-C D-M-NE!}
Suddenly, amongst the emerging nightfall, a cyanic star flashed and appeared in the sky high above all that which befell, dropping.
Antica locked focus on her coordinate map, swiping as she tried to find an optimal demonstration spot. Quickly identifying, she outlined with her fingers a designated zone.
« Bí, optimal targeting zone designated; șcís quid façhere attempto. »
Minimum casualties; maximum effect…
That cyanic star only brightened more and more, becoming more intense as if charging and energizing, before finally…
{R-DY}
Shot was ready. All she had to do was give the order…
Yet… Apprehension and deliberation… Deep down within, she knew this was…a step too far… But she was so…sick of these sights.
However, consequences…
Would this even do anything meaningful…or merely delay the inevitable?
But is that not what your Authority had done since the beginning?
Is that not what its remnants continue to do?
Delaying the inevitable…
Or perhaps even make everything so much…worse?
Worse for many, perhaps, but better for some
She did not know.
Nevertheless…
“It is…my choice, and I am exercising it…” Indeed, a desire, a choice, and the authority to exercise it. Even by Remnant metrics, it was her call to make. « Nullù retro gradù… » Not a step back.
« Bí, pyrobolá! »
She issued.
Abruptly, a lancing bang so mellow, hums sizzling as if eating the very air as it ripped through the sky with such rings that popped and burst, becoming more enraged the farther it traveled. Before…
Boom.
A small crater of residual sparkles and exotic goopification; the explosive impact of shattering cyanic glimmer was enough to immediately make everyone so freeze, shocked and awed. Though, all she saw was a hit confirmation and area-of-effect, having heard nothing besides maybe a distant thunderous thud carried by the whistling winds.
« Good shot. Reduce charge. Free-fire until total withdrawal. »
No beeps or boops, only boom after shattering boom.
Suffice it to say, the attackers decisively scrammed, faster than fast, right back to their panicked griffons, some unable to make it before their chimeras flew off. The surviving villagers were utterly panicked too, but at the very least…they will live.
« Benissimë… Monitor area proximity and surrounding locale; repeat firing directives. Ensure belligerents do not return. Then rendezvous with me. »
{S-c D-m-ne}
Thus, just like that, the situation was handled… Antica…had intervened.
And once those three returned, they would be none the wiser. Indeed… She did not have to tell them anything; Novea did not need to know anything. For all intentions, she had simply stood here, doing nothing. Her only witness to the contrary was that speechless chimera which stood behind, staring at her as if seeing something only it could see, hardly terrified as much as bemused.
Pressing, her terminal device’s screen flashed off; she returned sight to that distant village ahead, and thus simply waited…
« Quidquid advenjat d’af hôc, aș síc evenjat. » Whatever might happen now, let it happen. She did what was necessary; that was all there was to it.
Her only regret was that…she did not do this earlier.
Én las mans de noi, ê le destin de los múnds
In our hands lays the fate of worlds…
An ancient proverb of your bygone Authority
Regarding the necessity for non-interference
Ah…
Thus has been crossed, that line difficult to uncross
As the hero continues to be groomed…
To save the damsel
----------------------------------------
[Was it the Crown of Smiles that was the first to fall?
Or was it the hearts of mankind?
Was the First King of Daemons the one who had brought evil and wickedness to man?
Or was the Maddened Tyrant a reflection of what had already rotted us?
To this day, none amongst the learned have answered this question concretely
Though, as most scholars tended to remark,]
Enon Evaheth reve radet ot chraisen yedhir nouv traihs ot reuvsnayen ty eurtil
[None have ever dared to search their own hearts to answer it truly.]