Harras knelt in front of the Emperor’s throne with his head bowed. He ignored the chuckling of the nobles that were in attendance. The other Exalts, his only actual peers in the entire Empire, gazed down at him from their positions behind the Emperor.
Said Emperor was ranting about how Harras had ignored and failed to uphold his orders and position as an Exalt. How it was a disgrace for him to be one of the Mythical Beings that defended the Empire. The fact that his background as one who wasn’t descended from nobility was brought up more than once. But Harras was used to this. He had long since mastered the art of ignoring the unimportant.
“... with that said. The fact that we had discovered the secrets of the Desolate Land’s ability to spread means that we might have something to hold over the Church of Ten. Perhaps now, we can finally show them their place within the Empire.” Several nobles muttered inconsequential nonsense as they tried to suck up to the Emperor.
None of them seemed to care about the fact that the Scholars of the Church held no loyalty to the Empire. They were the only organization in the world that had a hand in every faction. Even the Prime Guild wasn’t as widespread as they were. Worse yet, the Church of Ten had the pull to essentially cripple any city they were based in. So long as it didn’t break their contracts with said city.
Any attack or offensive maneuver broke said contracts. Even withholding information from the Church, if it pertained to the Cruor and Broods, was considered a breach in contract. Which the Church could then use against them.
Of course, Harras didn’t expect the Emperor to know this. Given his startling lack of knowledge regarding the world beyond his noble social circle, such baseless declarations were to be expected.
“Now that I have received your report, and you have been properly lectured, is there anything else that you believe I should be informed of?” At this point Harras raised his head. “Specifically, regarding anything the Church did while under your supervision.”
Given the Church wasn’t ever, technically, under his supervision, he could reply truthfully without consequence.
“No, your majesty. Nothing happened that was of any note.” Harras’ words were sensed and reviewed by the Emperor’s Inquisition, who all confirmed that the man had told the truth.
“What of the Void Mage?” Harras raised a questioning eyebrow, but answered, nonetheless.
“I saw for myself that Void Mages are, indeed, immune to the effects of Ichor. At least when they have opened their Chakra and have not run out of mana.” Harras kept his tone bland and uninterested. “He was immune to the effects of the Spine and played a pivotal role in defeating the Cruor. But he ultimately found himself crippled. He is now utterly unable to use magic in any way at all. Even his Spirit has gone dormant, from what I was able to find out. All he has left is his martial prowess.”
Conflicted muttering echoed through the throne room. Many of the nobles fell in line with the belief that Void Mages were worthless. But to hear that one of the most important players in the war was the Void Mage who had been exiled eight years ago brought many of those beliefs crashing down.
Many chose not to believe it. Instead taking the Exalt to be a liar. But only those who didn’t understand, or chose to ignore, the restrictions placed on the Exalts were stupid enough to fall into this category.
“I see... And where is this Void Mage now?” The Emperor had technically been informed of this already. As his Inquisition had investigated what had happened in Harkem. He was quite upset to find out that Ezekiel had already left the city.
“From what I understand, the young man has relocated to Tollren. With a full pardon and pay for services rendered in the war. Short as it was.” Harras wasn’t sure why the Emperor was so interested in a crippled Void Mage, but he knew he had to answer truthfully.
“A shame. I would’ve liked to have brought him to court. It would’ve been interesting to see what wonders he could make for us. If he wasn’t broken.” Harras wasn’t sure he liked how the Emperor was talking about a person like he was a toy.
Sure, he looked down on many people as being unimportant, or non-essential to the Empire’s existence. But not to the point where they weren’t even people. Useless people, that needed to die for incompetence or because they were a threat to the Empire, but still people.
“Given that the Void Mage is no longer of any use, there is no point in rewarding or granting him any merit for his deeds.” Internally sighing at the Emperor’s decision, Harras nodded in understanding. “Erkan, send a missive to the Inquisition. They no longer need to bother with the Void Mage. He is worthless to us. Better to let him rot in the middle of nowhere.”
Glaring at the man that the Emperor had just addressed, Harras moved toward his seat when the Emperor gestured to him. He had known about the up and coming noble who had the Emperor’s ear. But to know that the man had the authority to pass on the Emperor’s word to the Inquisition was a shock.
From what he knew, the Emperor had never trusted anyone with the Inquisition besides himself. Sharing a look with his fellow Exalts, he knew that they would be having a discussion later.
Something was wrong in the Empire, and the three of them were likely the only ones with the power to stop it.
Especially if the Emperor had already been subverted.
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Figures shrouded in different colored lights met once again. This time two of the lights were missing. Orange and Violet were not seen amongst the seats.
“I see some of our numbers are missing again.” The figure shrouded in green light was the first to speak. “Will it be a common thing, where we are missing people in every meeting?”
“No. But given the current situation in the Empire, this should be somewhat expected. Although Peri’s difficulties are of a different sort. They will be addressed later. For now, the Anathema, and the effects of the Cruor’s attack on the Empire, are our primary focus.” The Radiant Speaker took control of the meeting before it could derail. “Word from Erkan is that the Emperor is choosing to ignore the Anathema. As the abomination has become a cripple, this is not a bad thing.”
Though their faces were unseen, the postures of the various Lights indicated that they weren’t happy with this statement. Even Typhos, who had previously advocated that they shift their focus elsewhere, seemed shocked.
“If the Anathema is crippled, should we not destroy him now while he is weak?” Amelia showed an enthusiasm much like her predecessor as she expressed a desire for Ezekiel’s death. “I know that, as a cripple, he won’t be much of a threat, but that just means that we should take him out while we can, right?”
“No. While leaving him alive is not ideal, our Lord has come up with a plan that needs our full attention. If we spread ourselves too thin, then we may lose our chance before it even arrives.” The Speaker’s own frustration could be heard in his voice. “Though it is regrettable, we will only be able to put a bounty on his head. Something that the ruling factions of the world won’t actually respect.”
One of the few things that the Cult had near total control of was certain aspects of the black market, and now, the Underworld of Tarquessa. Thanks to this, they were able to put bounties that a number of unsavory elements of the world would be interested in.
These bounties were separate from official bounties and were only respected by those in the Underworld. Going for such a bounty also meant breaking the law in most cases. Killing someone in broad daylight was often a crime amongst the various governing factions.
“We’ll keep it cheap for now. Ten thousand gold for his head. But none of our official members will go for him. We can’t afford to draw any more attention to ourselves in the Empire right now.” There was some grumbling among the Lights, but this was otherwise accepted. “Erkan is close to getting the Emperor to accept our patronage for several agendas. If things work out well, then we’ll have full control of the Empire within half a decade. But that won’t happen if the Emperor decides to kick hunt us down for causing a ruckus in his Empire. Do I need to remind you of the difference between a Mythical being and a Legendary one?”
A heavy presence settled on the Lights within the room. The Speaker rarely flaunted his power. Usually, he didn’t even let it be known that he was anything but a Legendary Hunter. But it seemed like he was truly upset by their current plans, as he allowed a miniscule amount of his might to leak out. It was nothing, in comparison to his full power, but it was still enough to make the other Lights break out in a cold sweat.
Surprisingly enough, it was Typhos that spoke up first.
“We understand, Lord Speaker. For now, let us confirm what our next steps will be. I am assuming they have something to do with the operations in the Morathi Alliance.” As the pressure let up on all of the Lights, most of them turned to Typhos in confusion. Not understanding how he was so unaffected by their leader’s power.
“Indeed. I believe Lana has made progress on her attempt to rope in the Kindled family.” All the Lights turned to look at Lana. “Something that should hopefully help us out, given the current state of our affairs.”
“That’s correct. Though, there will still be some difficulty. Especially if we can’t get Erkan more control over the Empire’s forces. The Inquisition might be enough, but we can’t be certain that-”
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“Enough!” The Speaker cut Lana off before she could start to ramble. “Get to the point.”
“Yes. The Kindled family has indicated that they will make pushes towards the Empire, in an attempt to draw enough attention to make talks with the Emperor. At which point, they will present the information we have gathered for them, and demand that Warren Luminance, and his Radiant Daughter be turned over to them.” Lana shifted uncomfortably under the gazes of her peers. “The problem is the other thing they intend to demand.”
“They truly are arrogant, aren't they? To think they believe that they can demand even this much is ridiculous.” Typhos scoffed at the Kindled family’s demands. He had spent years working with them, however, so it wasn’t beyond what he already expected.
“Their other demand is intended to be for the heads of Evelyn Luminance and their Obscure daughter. The Kindled family doesn’t like that their bloodline was ‘tainted’ as the clan head stated when I last met with him.” The room fell into silence at that declaration.
“So, in exchange for gaining one ally, we will forever gain the ire of one of the biggest clans in the Morathi Alliance. Is that what you’re saying?” It was the figure bathed in Green Light that spoke up first this time. “I do not envy any one of you at this time.”
“What of the Shroud family?” Typhos interjected before anyone could rise to the Green Light’s taunting. “We were attempting to rope them in as well, weren’t we? Or at least keep them out of the conflict.”
“Correct. As distasteful as it is, working with elements such as the Obscure and Death types, the Shroud family didn’t actually ask for more than what information was provided. It seems that their interest in the young heiress was more to do with concern for her safety, rather than a desire to bring her back under their thumb, like we had assumed. They have indicated that, so long as no harm comes to her, or her daughters, that they will stay out of our way. Needless to say, that will change if the Kindled family gets their way.” The Lights couldn’t help but mentally groan at the situation. All but one.
“I don’t see why this is a problem. One family won’t be a problem for us. Let’s just ally with the Kindled family and be done with it.” Amelia might’ve been less hotheaded than her predecessor, but she still had little patience for such politicking.
“It might not end up mattering.” Lana said before anyone else could reply. “It was never brought up in our talks, but my spies have found out that the Kindled family has already decided that they will be making covert attempts to get what they want. Raising their own bounties against the Luminance family. Mostly for the capture and retrieval of the twin girls.”
“As bait, I’m assuming.” Typhos snorted derisively at the Kindled family’s plan. “So much for making a deal with the Emperor. This might help in taking out the Anathema, however.”
“Regardless, continue to work towards allying with the Kindled family, and stop any conflict from breaking out in the Alliance. We don’t have enough forces there at the moment to take advantage of such a situation.” While not ideal, things were still looking better than they were before.
Now, they just had to hope that their prospective allies didn’t dig a bigger hole for themselves. But, as much as it annoyed them, they could take solace in the fact that the Anathema was officially someone else’s problem.
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Deep within the Desolate Lands, a gathering was taking place. Nine figures, all seated in roughly carved and worn-down thrones sat in a circle. Beneath them was an intricately designed magic formation. A seal that was divided into nine segments, with arrows that lead outwards.
The thrones were not covered, nor were there any walls that blocked out the elements. Merely a barren plane of stone and dust that was flooded with Ichor of the densest quality.
Of these figures, each of them had features that made them unique from one another.
One had multiple mouths covering his body. Lined with fangs that could easily gouge stone.
One stood twenty feet tall and was covered in bone plates.
One was utterly pale, with white hair and black nails. The only color she had was her red eyes.
One wore chitinous armor. Molded to her body, which had an ethereal and otherworldly beauty.
One had scales running up his arms. His legs joined together to make a massive snake tail.
One wore a dress of mold, with fungal growths shaping her figure and sculpting her hair.
One had gills running along his chest, with webbed fingers and toes.
One had no distinct form at all. Looking like an oily ooze that held a somewhat human shape.
Finally, the last had several sets of wings, and was writhing in pain as his master expressed their displeasure at his failure.
Of the assembled Broodlords, not all were old enough to remember the Age of Despair. Only the Chaos Broodlord, who held no shape, the Wyrm Broodlord, who crawled beneath the dirt, the Fang Cruor, who chewed on human bones, and the Swarm Broodlord, with her ethereal beauty, had remained since the beginning of that era.
The rest had been brought in later, when their predecessors fell. Something not all the humans were aware of. Not exactly, as some of the Broodlords took on an appearance so similar to their originals, that they were indistinguishable from the first.
Hence why, of these Broodlords, half of them winced in pain at the sight of their peer suffering as he was. They could tell that the Winged Brood was keeping Derrick on the edge of sanity. Just close enough to continue feeling pain, but far enough to not succumb to it.
“Do not try to look away.” The Fanged Broodlord said as he stared at the youngest of the Broodlords suffering before him. “Your masters are using this as a lesson. Your personal desires will be granted, as a reward for your services to them. But you must also remember that you serve the Brood, just as much as you Lord over it. To fail in your duty for personal gain will result in a punishment. Do not forget that.”
The Rot, Bone, and Deep Cruor hardened their hearts and settled their faces into an expressionless mask. They were the next youngest and had not witnessed the Brood’s displeasure. Even if it had actually been years since their conversion to Broodlords, they were not known to the world at large. Their focusses being more directed to increasing their numbers for the eventual conflict to come.
Finally, after several hours of listening to Derrick scream and moan in pain, the noise settled down, and his suffering ended. He was given a few moments to rest, and recover from his ordeal, before the meeting of the Broodlords began in full.
“I do not believe that we need to go over our Winged Lord’s mistakes. He was warned of the effects of Ichor on those with Elements that are not the Void. Though, I will admit that it was not entirely his fault. Even we did not know that a proper Void Mage was immune to the effects of Ichor and the Spines. Now, in the future, we can make proper preparations.” The Fanged Broodlord’s words cause all to nod in agreement. “The fact that you were not merely killed for your failure shows just how little you are actually at fault. The major Spines that were lost while nearly grown were not of your being, after all.”
The Chaos Broodlord’s figure rippled for a moment. No words were said, but all the Broodlords flinched at the Chaos One’s displeasure.
“While he failed to succeed in his mission, and fulfill his wish, he did manage to get us a great deal of information regarding the capabilities of a Void Mage. This is a boon, as it means we know what to expect, but also a hindrance, as it means we have few to no willing converts. Leading to a higher death rate in those we capture.” A faint buzzing sound emanated from the Swarm Broodlord. “Worse yet, the Herald of the Void is still alive. His conversion, ultimately, a failure.”
The Chaos Broodlord seemed to vibrate, losing their shape. The sound of pouring rain on steel sheets echoed through the vast clearing where they were seated. All of the Broodlords winced in pain. The roiling emotions from the technical eldest of them all hit them like a boulder to the face.
“No one is questioning your abilities, Chaos. We all know that, had there been even one more minute, your Ichor would have claimed him.” The Chaos Broodlord calmed down at the Wyrm Lord’s words. They settled into their roughly human shape once more.
“This is not the first time we have had our plans unraveled by this Herald, correct?” The Blood Lord chose to interject. “First was eight years ago, second was three years ago, and now we have the most recent event. Should we, perhaps, make a push to take him out before the war is renewed?”
The Broodlords all fell quiet as they contemplated the Blood Lord’s words. But just before any of them could speak, their eyes all turned oily at the same time. Their Brood Masters were now speaking to them directly. With a gasp, they all jerked forward. Except for Chaos, as their form did not have such features.
“It seems like there were lasting effects on the Herald. We need not worry about how he is dealt with. Other forces will see him ended soon enough.” The buzzing voice of the Swarm seemed to titter as she found the information, they had just received to be quite funny.
None of them bothered questioning how the Broods could know this whilst trapped beneath them.
Such questions had been raised in the previous generation. Said Broodlord died without even getting the chance to enter a battlefield. Their successor was quick to learn from that mistake.
“How are our forces coming along?” The Wyrm Lord asked. “We will need our number to reach unprecedented heights if we wish to make an impact in the next war. Our previous forces will not be enough. They have a startling amount of Mythic Hunters after all.”
The fact that the Broodlords were outnumbered went unsaid, as it was clear that the only advantage, they had was that they didn’t, technically, have to wait for a long time for a new Broodlord to be raised. The only thing that really mattered was compatibility, and whether or not the Brood liked them.
“Whilst the loss of such a large force of Winged ones is unfortunate, the rest of the Broods have enough numbers to begin claiming land. The Archipelago, in particular, is ripe for the pickings, being as spread out as they are.” The Deep Lord proclaimed. “The vessel beasts are also ready to expand our reach as needed.”
“Good. Winged Lord.” Derrick turned to the Fanged Lord. “While you will be given time to recover, we need your force’s numbers raised. Go to the lowest pool after this. Gorge yourself on the Ichor until you are about to explode and breathe life into as many of the slumbering ones as you can. We need your forces back to where they were before your conflict within the next year.”
“Understood. I will not fail again.” Though he turned pale at the thought of his task, Derrick still agreed without complaint. “Regarding the Herald...”
“Open season, but not now. I know you have a grudge, and you will get first shot, should he appear in territory near yours. But we must focus on our final preparations.” The eldest of the Cruor gazed up at the sky, where multicolored lines of magic formed an opalescent sphere. “The time of our masters’ sovereignty will soon arrive. We must prepare this world for them post haste. While the Herald’s capture would’ve allowed us to win that much sooner, for now, we will focus on the original plan.”
The rest of the Broodlords looked to the sky as well. Their eyes shifted to the oily color of Ichor once again. Monstrous figures, the size of mountains reflected in their gazes. The true forms of the Eldritch beings that gave them power.
Excitement swelled with all of their chests. Soon, the world would be consumed by desolation, and only those that knew the cruelty of the world would remain.
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To the east of the Willowbrush Empire, in a room adorned with golden decorations, and the purest of white marble masonry, seven figures sat atop tall pillars arranged in a semi-circle as they looked down on a young man who had just conveyed a piece of vital information.
“Dismissed.” One of the figures declared. The man on the ground disappeared in a flash of light. “It seems like the information obtained from those foolish cultists was correct. As such, we will begin enacting our plan as soon as possible.”
“Are you certain that is a good idea? Using our connections with the Empire to forcibly have the traitor sent back to us. It would make things easier for us in the long run.”
“Doing so also implies that we are lesser than the Empire, and that we need their permission for anything. No, we will keep that method as a last resort, and we will make our own attempts first. Send notice of the bounty and choose a number of Hounds to go forth as well.” The figure at the center of the semi-circle gave his order. The rest bowed their heads in subservience.
“Remember, we want the traitor and his daughter alive. The whore and her failures need to die. No darkness will taint our bloodline. Only the purest light may shine.”
“Only the purest light may shine.”
As the seven figure’s voices spread throughout the room, plans were set in motion, as a family, thousands of kilometers away, became a target once again.