THE SCENT//LEYAH VIII
“A GOD IS NOT BORN; IT IS MADE. WHETHER IT BE THROUGH TRIAL, THROUGH SACRIFICE, OR BE IT THROUGH CHANCE AND WILLFUL FATE– IT MATTERS NOT. FOR, VERILY, AT THE END OF IT ALL, REMAINS BEHIND A GOD. AN ENTITY THAT EVEN WITH OUR EXPERTISE OF TECHNOLOGIES AND SCIENCES BEYOND COMMON COMPREHENSION, WE CANNOT YET DECIPHER.
HOW DOES THE ENTITY OPERATE? WHAT DOES IT THINK? WHAT IS ITS PURPOSE? WE DO NOT KNOW. AND PERHAPS, NEVER WILL; FOR IT, I AM GREATLY THANKFUL. BECAUSE, IF HUMANITY, IF OUR SPECIES WERE TO DISCOVER THE PATH TO GODHOOD.. I- I FEAR THE WORST.”
-Doctor Ilhaan, Head of Research at Concordia Sector
Once upon a lonesome night, when stars shone brighter than ever upon this divine world, men and women of nefarious minds plotted a most heretical act. An act, that would forever shatter irreparably the image of not only the New Isle Federation, but, also the image of the coalition. Two birds with one stone.
They whispered betwixt themselves of this plot. They whispered in reverence, for verily, per their take, this was in service to their infidel god.
And, now, one must rightfully wonder what act could inspire such outcomes? What act, could lead to a war greater than all before it? What act could herald the accession of Queen Lilac? What act could have lead to the mighty powers of the old world to collapse?
Sensible questions, all. Sensible but foolish.
For, to ask such.. questions, would indicate the lack of common wit; well, either that or utter disinterest in basic historical and socio-political knowledge.
Verily, the act being referred to is the Siege of Knightfort.
A single act of rebellion, of revolution, of disloyalty that spiraled into the bloodiest civil war in history.
“That.. is hyperbole,” AURORA snarked. By Lilac, she hated the snark in this bloody machine; one would, rightfully, mistake the AI for an overpaid clown.
“Classical denial. Objection was raised to your observations of Lilac's Crusade. The Holy War of Evelyn is and shall be regarded, till further notice, as the bloodiest war in history,” He paused for effect, or perhaps to give her a chance to reconsider. She couldn't quite say, regardless, he continued, “A death toll of billions could never be held in comparison to a bloody count of trillions, if not zillions of souls,”
There was something in his voice, something that rubbed the wrong way. She couldn't possibly point it out, but, it was there nonetheless. So glaringly obvious yet so expertly hidden.
Was it pity? If yes, then whatever for? Was it pride? If yes then, why? Why be prideful of a war that one has not even had the slightest contribution towards? Or, was it none of them. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was not pride towards the zealots of the empire that he expressed, no, mayhaps it was pride towards Evelyn.
An awkward conclusion, to be sure. But, there were instances, dreams, thoughts that ought to not be her own. She could never make heads or tails of them, yet, they had something in common; Evelyn.
They surely could not be her own, for to be possessed by such a curiosity and likeness towards an individual, one ought to have known them. And.. well, as it stands, she was born some odd twenty-five years ago, not 500 or 600 ish years ago.
To imply that such obsession was her's, was to imply that she were immortal; or, at least a creature that could live for centuries.
Neverminding the interruption; The act of rebellion by General Shah and his 117th battalion, the unstable powderkeg that was the crumbling old world had imploded onto itself. The flag of Elena the False, had reigned over the city of Avalon, cursing both the woman and the city into an existence of blood and gore that lasted for nearly two decades.
“Objection, the flag hoisted originally by General Shah was not Elena's, it was of the New Isle Reformation Council-”
“Zip it.”
In the same manner, that history thought of General Shah as a mighty fool; She did too with Adolph.
She, in all honesty, expected the man to make the same foul plots and execute them with the finesse of a bumbling infant. Perhaps this time, instead of the Federation and the Coalition, he would undo the fragile status quo of the Empire and the Draconian Council.
Perchance, that devilish circus would finally end insufferable existence, once and for all.
Such thoughts brewing hatred tirelessly did not, thankfully, leak out onto her cordial and welcoming persona. Even though, she would love nothing more than to deck the uncouth fool in the face, there were lines of command to be followed.
Had he been serving under Fredrick, she would have already acted on these impulses. But, he wasn't and a curse be upon cruel fate for that.
As she ate with the man, knife cutting expertly through the tender meat– something flared within her. That something, being an irrational and abhorrent disgust of feasts or dinners or anything that might require undue formalities.
Yes. Yes, she had attended feasts, Balls, and all sorts of ceremonious events before. But, that had been awfully long ago; much much before Calypso. Before, everything in her life had been seemingly torn apart by the seams.
Even then, with all the recently acquired distaste, those times of simplicity and naivety were long sought after. Sometimes, well, more often than not, she would run those memories on repeat, again and again and again; heh, one might think her an addict. But then again, those individuals had not lived through Calypsonian hell. She had, and by extension, such minor comforts had become her's by right to indulge in.
And, no, AURORA.. this is not delusion. It is perfectly normal and acceptable behavior.
“My Lady,” he began, suddenly, dousing his thirst with a cup of wine, “You have a most wonderful kitchen,”
A smile, “Many thanks, I shall relay your words to the staff,” He nodded in turn with a smile of his own; his more genuine than hers.
A silence descended upon them; a comfortable one, one which ought to have heralded ease of conversation. However, the effects of such an atmosphere, seemed to have eluded him. Undoubtedly so.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“So,” he cleared his throat, mouth moving disgustingly to produce words while the pig chewed his food, “Tell me.. about your time on, on Calypso,”
A courageous pig.
She flashed a strained smile, “Apart from mud, blood, death, plague and the occasional purges. Nothing… fancy, really occurred there,”
“Oh? Truly? No feasts? No Balls?” He questioned, the very image of an oaf. Common sense being ever elusive to him. Surprising, really; or tis would till she realized the true depths of his… stupidity.
One ought to reconsider his approval. At least, she would. Or mayhaps, he ought to reconsider his career. He would make a mighty fine clown.
“Well, in case, you have not noticed, Calypso is hardly the place for Balls, ballerinas, dinners, or well.. it is hardly the place for anything commemorative,” At his look, she shrugged. Tis was obvious. Words were hardly his expertise; in both manner of speech and understanding. Some are afterall, born defective.
“Oh, well.. well you see, military doctrine, at least for the officers, dictates mandatory–”
“Doctrine?” She scoffed, “Doctrine matters little out in Calypso. Survival and Victory are paramount,” She paused and with a slight chuckle of annoyance, added, “But, of course, I do not expect you to understand; born and bred under open skies, who are you to grasp true horror?”
The man sputtered indignantly. Being honest, she expected an equal if not greater reaction, however, it seems the man still has some tact; in light of which, no words were further exchanged betwixt them.
“You should not have done that,” AURORA's comment scathed but it was true. Harshly so. There was tact, chains of command, rules, ideals and so-so much more to be followed in such a situation; her actions, went against all of it. Fucking fool, she lamented in her thoughts. Forget the bloody Inquisition, Adolph and his pet Cardinals might get her first.
Hooray!
Be that as it may, she did not regret. Why should she? It was the mere truth that had been stated; Nevermind the fact that he was, somehow, her superior. Well, if worse comes to worse, there was always the claim of plausible deniability.
AKA: Diplomatic immunity.
“Objection, I would not recommend that. Such a course of action would only lea–”
“Leads to more trouble. I know, but, as it stands… I have no other choice,”
“Then, Leyah, let us trust in the treacherous concept of hope,” Hope. Funny; She had sworn to never trust in it, not ever since Calypso, not ever since the Withering Riots. Not ever since Evelyn–
Hope, is what led to them, something whispers. She does not know whom or what, but she agrees with this image of nobody.
Hope, wrongful and oh so treacherous hope, leads to naught but foul ends and demeaning deaths.
Hope, afterall, is what led Charles Arvell to kill the Queen. Hope is what led Charlotte and her zealots. Hope is what led Evely–
She shakes her head.
No, no, no, that thought- those thoughts, weren't entirely her own. Curse be upon this bloody chip; thricely damned be AURORA.
A sweet thought occurred then. Read the book, it spoke. Yes, oh yes, the book. Anchor. She ought to read it, it's been far too long.
Reaching out towards her bedside drawer, she pulled it open. Only to find it empty.
Not again, she groaned. The bloody thing has disappeared!
Well, no matter, she will sleep early tonight then. A deep breath, her eyes closed, mind drifting off into the pleasurable embrace of sweet dreams.
The knocking resounded across the room. Her bleary eyes opened creepingly and slowly, wishing for the knocker to catch a hint and leave.
A beat of silence and the knocks began again. Bloody hell!
Finally, after a few moments, which may have been seconds; gathering her robes, she opened the door. Behold Emma, a haggard and sleepless look about her, prim and proper hair dislodged as if tussled with.
For a moment, she feared the worse. “My madame! The.. Cardinal, the one without the scar, is requesting you in his chambers,” The customary bow, that ought to have heralded her words came after them. Oh Lilac, this situation was somehow worse. What did that… monster want?!
“Right now?” She questioned, thoroughly annoyed, yet, relieved.
“Unfortunately.. yes, my madame,” By Lilac, they need to learn basic humanity, at least! Exasperation aside, she nodded at Emma to lead her away; in her nightdress, she was, yes but the Cardinal would hardly care.
If she was late, however. The story would be quite different.
Malice. Evelyn's herald of war; coincidentally, her mentor, as well– Wait, he was not her mentor. Where did that come from? Strange.
A dull ache resounded in her cranium; near to the chip, obviously. She sorely needed it checked, but, somehow she knew he would not appreciate it. Better to suffer aches than a sociopathic AI.
Nevertheless, where was she? Oh yes! Malice. Malice was one of the 5 Ancient Cardinals– ancient, as in that one cannot clearly figure out their origins. There are theories, yes, there always are theories. But few, too few, make any sort of sense; most tend to chalk it up to Lilac and her magnificence. Although, she, herself, doubts them to be Lilac's creation.
The woman was a known perfectionist. Therefore, to create something as imperfect as them, would be unimaginable to her.
Then again, who was she to meddle in the thoughts of Gods?
The rather unassuming door to the Cardinal's room was open. As if, the thing could not be bothered to shut it. Or, in her point of view, tis was the open jaw of a sleeping predator, waiting patiently for the next prey. Just her luck, to be the new item on the menu. Hoorah!
The room, itself, was bare of decorations; left entirely untouched by any taste or preference or view point. Everything was just as it was when she had handed over the room. Pity. She had been interested in seeing the.. unique decorations that the monstrosity would hoist, no doubt.
Then again, maybe this was the real monstrosity- to live in barren and unimpressive lodgings.
The thing, itself, stood near to the window, bathing itself under the pale moonlight. Was that a book? Was it reading something? Oh hoh, color her surprised. Even imperfections knew how to appreciate real art.
Almost, as if having sensed her arrival, the Cardinal began to speak- and, what a gravelly voice it were, tis was as listening to a great beast voicing its bloodthirsty fantasies as stones grated themselves in the background. Chilling.
“My thoughts aren't mine own no longer. They are dominated by the godling that doth do nest within their embrace. I fear, it's hold grows upon me; trumply, I fear, for my daughter, my flesh and bloods whose ascendancy is questioned. Consort of the Blood Queen raising a daughter of snow?” It paused, “What a cruel fate, oh Viktoria, what a cruel fate,”
A growl and the book shut within his grasp. A chill of icy fear cascaded down her spine. This couldn't be possible!
“Did you.. did you really think that I would not recognise this scent?!”
With a roar of rage, the Cardinal dashed towards her. Before, she could even blink, the thing had her slammed against the wall, a tight hold on her neck.
Malice sniffed at her neck. Recoiling in disgust, it continued, “The foul stench. I should have known, I should have felt it! But, but, I have grown complacent,” a snarl, “No longer. No longer, shall I allow you to pollute this divine realm,”
“Wh- who.. who's scent?!” She screamed with all her might. The devilish hand dug into her neck deeper, so deep that she was sure it would draw blood.
The thing spoke then, disgust marring it's words, “Charles Arvell’s.”