25th of Greenery, fourth month of 984:
Valcra almost rose from her throne, her hands not clenching thanks to her great self control. The ruby throne cracked again, its flames threatening to finally rain burning hot gems onto the room. Elenia’s church’s High Priestess, Kilm, retreated before stopping herself and kneeling again.
“You dare to fault my decisions when the cause of this fault was your inability to stop these heathens?”
Touching the floor with her head, she begged, “That foolishness never crossed my mind, our Aflame Majesty! I was only informing you of the rebrewing chaos in the northern provinces! The new Imperial nobility have seen themselves overwhelmed with controlling their stubborn populations, not having the leeway to stop the Reformation! No! I am accusing the northwomen of betraying your expectations! Instead of singing your praises, they have turned to scorn, trying to harm our Empire! I implore you to enforce your will. We should directly rule the north! By expelling the native nobility and dealing with the Reformation, a new era of stability can b…”
“Enough of your blabbering!” Valcra growled. The clergywoman was just trying to bribe her into dealing with their own mess. While it was true that only materially rewarding the new Duchess, the old Countess of Astar, Simil of the Rosekeepers, could have been an injection of oil to the problem, her favourable stance towards the new church of Elenia, spearheaded by that High Paladin Sarak…Sarok, S something had been the true problem. The new Imperial nobility, outsiders from central provincial families, had no leeway to oppress the northern cults and the ones who fought against the rebellion were loyal towards Simil. It didn’t help that this Elenia’s new cult was far more tolerant of other religions and strived for true justice, as they called it.
The High Priestess grew paler by the second as Valcra meditated. ‘That damned movement spreaded like a wildfire. Alpin’s barony fell in a day, and the Duchess having accepted their vision and practically banning the true cult was just the nail in the coffin for Elenia’s church. Should the Inquisition step in? Too dangerous. We cannot afford another rebellion in the north, we would not have the manpower to stop their now united front, not that we would dare to divert our forces after the fall of Uzbek, capital of the Alliance. It would just ignite their fighting spirit.’ Valcra muttered a curse, thing that made the high priestess kneel with renewed vigour.
“I, Valcra of the Fenix Household, Empress of All the Continent of Silgi, Watcher of the Flames of the Fenix of Old and Overseer of Humanity, speak a new Imperial Decree. This new branch of Elenia’s cult will be recognized as an official religion, free to be preached and believed in. Let it be heard and spreaded!” The statement was met first with stupefied silence and, after a few seconds, with thunderous applause. It wasn’t a well received decree, far from it. The nobility were already planning to do their best to find a loophole around it, and the clergy would do its best to crush this movement behind the scenes, but nobody dared to oppose it under the light. No one dared to go against the Empress, not when the ashes of Larra had yet to be fully dusted of the carpet.
“How is the front, High Commander Jacob?” Asked Valcra, once the noise stopped.
Jacob, a young man in his late twenties, on the small side and with southern ascendancy, moved forward and kneeled in front of the throne. His impaired armour was testified of the little time he had when preparing for this calling, far too busy with leading the invasion efforts.
“Two constituent states have fallen, including the old leader, the Confederation of Species. The alliance’s bureaucracy is scrambling to unite itself and their armies are disjointed. The northern territories have fallen and we have confirmed the intentions of the Salt Sea’s Merchant Union. They are willing to switch sides.”
Valcra nodded approvingly, “How long will this last defiance remain standing?“
“At most two months, our Fiery Protector.”
“So be it, keep bringing good news from the front, Star of the Empire.” Valcra had to stop herself from smiling. It was all going according to plan.
……….
“Halt! Halt I sai…” His warnings were cut short as a claw tore his throat out. As Eve shaked its hand to clean it off, its sisters rushed to crush the border guards. Only two hundred strong, the rest dead, for real, or having stayed behind, they still were more than enough to wipe out the twenty Imperial soldiers that tried to retreat. They had just been unlucky, their patrol rounds having put them in the wrong place at the wrong time. Be that as it may, their silence was still paramount to the survival of the undead force.
“This is why I have tried to convince you of slowing down, Eve!” Lantraz tried to reason, followed by five of his paladins. On top of their undead horses, they had needed them to keep up with the hellish march of the sisters.
“We are not going to. You want to slack off? Do so.” While it was talking, Eve had started to run again, its legs propelling its inhuman jumps as its arms latched onto trees, almost turning its dash into a low fly.
“By Zun’s heat!” Lantraz rushed its mount forward. No plan had been made, nor would it. Eve was not listening to anything it had to say, not having forgiven them for betraying it and its lord when it mattered most. They had focused their travelling on forest or unused roads. Lantraz could only pray to the Gods so that no more sapients would find themselves in their way.
……….
Arm 1 grabbed a bottle of Imperial Wine, from 940, and two glasses of almost perfect craftsmanship. A fenix at each side of the glass, the pouring wine reflected a cacophony of lights from the nearby scented candles. Grabbing a glass, he stopped to smell it. ‘The smell of ‘Hopes’, huh?’ A tiny smell of coconut, signalling the quality wood that had been used in the barrel, danced in his nose, together with the smell of that eastern edible flower.
The sound of two boots, one after the other, hitting the table and almost knocking down the bottle and the second glass of wine could have broken a less stable facade. He was a professional, so his smile never wavered.
“It’s a damned drink, can you hurry it up? Oh, sorry, did I stop your hard-on? I didn’t know you had that preference. I should bring some grapes the next time I come in. For your private enjoyment.” Scoffed Ilkom, not a man of patience, as he lazily laid on the luxurious couch.
“My apologies, steamed Pirate King. I was simply making sure it was up to your standards. It is, after all, a highly valued wine.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever man. Can we get to the business already?” Betraying his exasperated expression, his hand greedily grabbed a glass before he gulped it all at once.
Arm 1 couldn’t suppress an irritation tick in his eye and, redoubling the effort he put in maintaining his smiling face, continued, “So be it.” He sipt a bit of the wine to regain strength. “Let’s focus. An assault on the impervious Tower is impossible. The Inquisition guards it like dogs defending their treats, and the Royal Guards are always ready to support them.” A true smile came to be. “Or, at least, I would normally say.”
Ilkom bellowed in laughter. “Damn right you are! If you use enough cannons anything is possible.” He had, after all, brought a land ship.
Arm 1 merrily joined in the laughing fit. “Only a fool would think so simply! You are a great jester, you know?”
That almost made Ilkom snap, cooling him completely. His combat reflexes started to analyse the small room. Between all that expensive furniture, hiding behind, stood numerous false walls with members of the Hands ready to strike whenever.
Arm 1 continued, now happy in earnest. “I was hinting at the clergy. They want your target dead, and they are willing to go against her Empress’ wishes. They fear his necromancy. And we do too!” Another small laugh. “The Inquisition thinks the same, and is willing to be bribed. They will be a lot more rusty in the upcoming weeks, I think. Oiling the wheels of the State always works out in one’s favour.”
“How many men am I allowed to bring?” Drily asked Ilkom, as he returned to a normal sitting position.
“Fifty.”
“How much?”
“Three thousand gold coins.”
Ilkom’s hand inched towards his right dagger. “That is double of what we had pacted.” He spat.
“Yeah. You know? I don’t like you. I hate brainless buffoons. And you embody the ideal. Pay up or go away, in simpler terms.” A false apologetic face took over his acting. “Oh, I am sorry. Were these sentences short enough for you or should I just stick to grunts?” Arm 1 flashed a grin.
The clink of a bag full of coins resounded as it impacted the table. That was Ilkom's sole response before leaving the room.
“Boring. Once this kind of sapient bites the bait, no matter how bleak the situation turns out to be they will never let go. Call the other moron in, Hand 301.”
From the same door Ilkom had left entered Kraus, your ordinary, everyday thug, dressed in casual clothes. His well kept but short hair, recently birthed out of his usual military cut, danced as Kraus bowed. Well keep clothes dyed grey denoted he had ample money, if he wasn’t a high commander undercover of course.
“Greetings, Arm 1.” ‘I am doing the right thing, right?’ “I hope today has been kind to you.”
Arm 1 grabbed another glass as he smiled, “If you exclude dealing with an unsightly pest, then yes. It is always a pleasure to make business with your lady. Tell me, is Maliz’s health faring well these days?”
“Her new position is way more taxing. Still, she is filled with a vigour I have hardly seen from her. She is fit to be a duchess.” Answered with pride Kraus.
Arm 1 nodded as he filled the brim Kraus’ glass. After handing it to him, he continued, “I am glad, our fruitful relationship is something we would love to maintain after all. Still, what has caused her to ask for this meeting in such short notice, even needing the use of a proxy?”
Kraus half smiled as he took a sip of wine. “...one of the best I have had. Evermore, it has nothing to envy from our own beverages, even if I personally like stronger ones.”
“It was a good harvest. Our answer?” He tried to probe again.
Resting the glass on the table, Kraus sidestepped, “How much would it cost to help fifteen of my men near the Tower?”
That froze Arm 1. After a moment that had started to become too long, he started to laugh. Increasing in volume, he started to hit the table as he doubled over himself. Once he calmed down and, after he cleaned up the building tears,
“Ain’t our lady bold.” His accent slipped up, not that he cared, “You are far too funny, my man. Nether…Should we join in the party? What do you think, boys?” Silence was his answer as his guards weren’t willing to break their watch. “You know? Fine. I will even give you a discount. I want to watch the fireworks go off. Two hundred and I can get you all by.”
Kraus, surprised, nodded.
Arm 1 sat on his chair, “Necromancy that can make individuals, huh. That would be of great value, yes. How does the third of Zun’s Awakening sound?”
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“Fine by our side.”
“Then go. I need to work.”
Once Kraus left the room, Body dispersed his invisibility spell.
“Should we nab him for ourselves? The betrayer has flooded Alpin with our blood. His research would be cost efficient too.” Started Arm 1.
“Too much trouble. The Inquisition would uproot us for good.”
“We have a good fighting chance, boss.”
“Nah. Too much hassle. It’s better to be seen as a convenient tool than a danger.”
“Still fearing that demigod wench?”
“Damn right I do.”
………….
The beginnings of the Tower have been lost to the annals of time, for it stood before the new empire, before the Vampire empire, before the unification of the continent and before necromancy itself. What it can be said about it is its uses and history.
A building more akin to a highly defended and giant castle than a tower, it can turn its name into a confusing one, for its height is no more than fifty metres, even if it sprawls as far as a normal village of five hundred souls. A lot of Imperial palaces are of bigger magnitudes too, but no one could compare its undergrounds to the Tower, for exploration teams had ceased trying to discover the true deepness it held, for it appeared to reach the centre of the world. What made this building special was the materials it had been built of.
At a first glance, it appeared to be built out of ash bricks. The appearance was the only similarity between the two materials, as these grey blocks were as durable as granite and too light for their own good, having made the overall construction too easy to achieve in its time. The most important characteristic would be its immutability. Not in the normal sense of not suffering decay. In the sense that the Tower was capable of rebuilding itself. If you deconstructed it, after a few days it would stand the same way it did before you tried anything. The materials flowed back into place. If you took a brick out of the building it would start to disintegrate and flow back as dust, soon to readjust itself into the construct.
The tower was but a corpse of long forgotten magic, only standing outside of the belly of the soil thanks to its prison like interior, granting it a never ending usefulness to the human race. While empires, cultures and nations withered and decayed, evil would always need a place to be contained in, continually propelling humanity to use the Tower. And, adding to its useful characteristics, something resided in these ‘bricks’. An entity, quality of power or anomaly that ate away at magic, dispelling any and all magic that tried to bypass it. Attack magic, teleportation magic, invisibility, anything that touched these walls would be eaten and dispelled, never to return.
An ancient building that had maintained the only place free of mana in the whole known world, at least in practised. However, no thing was perfect, and the Tower wouldn’t affect grey mana, causing great despair and chaos in the magic community. Was it because grey mana was no longer mana? Was it only fine tuned to mana? What, then, was mana if not energy outside of the normal elements? No answer was given to the questions that were archived, not too long after forgotten. Once the enthusiasm of explorating this archeology site dimmed and flared up only to dim again as aeons passed, it had been simply called the Tower. Its original name, the Tower of the Cursed Ones, was forgotten, the same fate that the cursed ones held, old bioweapons of war, slowly losing their mind in the lower floors. The knowledge of the third type of mana, the cursed mana or black mana, would also remain hidden inside the walls, continually being fuelled from the inside of the world as blue mana was recycled.
If anything, the Tower was a warning towards the loss of knowledge, one the new times, with its lack of insight, would never realise nor hear. Now it was but a state prison for grey mana users, as its anti magic properties would stop any infiltration mission from progressing by normal means. Only bribery could free you from the tower, for not in death the leftovers of your body would leave it, used as experimental material until it ran out.
Inside a torture chamber, the smell of burning flesh was increasing in potency. Questions had stopped half an hour ago, the users too focused in their craft to care about what they should be searching.
Noct could only make a sound by slightly moving in his chair, for they had fed him white-hot iron, only the stasis magic maintaining him alive and conscious. Higher thoughts had already been replaced by the instinctual fear of death. He would do anything to stop the pain. He would sell anyone. If only they cared enough to ask. How arrogant he had been, thinking he would resist any kind of torture. The second day he had already blabbed about almost everything. His research. The properties of his creations. His secret laboratories and hiding places. All of his persona he had revealed. And now he was ready to reveal the rest. To betray what he wanted to protect most. The involvement of his sister and comrades. To where his skeletons would escape to. The noblewomen that had helped him.
As his body burned away, both inside and outside, one of his jailors finally muttered something.
“Is it painful to be burnt alive? How does it feel to be on the receiving end?” Noct didn’t hear, as he had muttered it too lowly. Words without vigour, pride or consolation. Only a bittersweet taste, acknowledging that nothing would return to what it was before. His hate and anger mattered not in front of the suffering man in front of him. Before, a demon, the greatest monster he had now. Now, only a tortured man. An aftertaste of regret lingered in his mind as he and his companions finished the session.
Noct being healed, he finally found his voice. Inside the barebones grey room, filled with a small furnace and tons of torturing tools, a manic and tattered speech begged.
“I…I will talk. Please! No…no more.”
“Later.” Said the Inquisitor, dressed in the grey uniform of the Tower.
“No, no, no. I said I will talk!!” Noct fought against the chains that bound him to the metal chair. “The undead are…”
A punch to the month shut Noct.
“Carry him to his cell.”
With the stasis spell firmly stabbed in his stomach, he was quickly unchained and rechained in his personal cell. Among the screams of the other prisoners, he sat alone inside a completely black room, devoid of any kind of light and full of his personal waste.
As his wounds healed yet again, the pangs of extreme hunger and thirst returned. Grey magic was immoral. And only grey magic could be casted in the Tower.
“Please…I will talk…” His parched up throat, breaking with every word and being healed just the same, managed to spill those meagre words.
Inside the darkness, a small candle, together with the table it was upon, manifested, bringing a bit of rustic light and showing thousands of indescribable insects climbing and falling from the walls. Soon enough, a chair and a figure he saw almost every night in his sleep appeared too.
The child, no more than seven, sat with some difficulty on the chair, and spoke softly, “It hurted a lot, right?”
The rattle of the chains was his only answer, as Noct fought with mad abandon to try and free himself from his nightmares. He tore the skin of his wrist, damaged the muscle and scratched the bone, but it all healed soon enough.
“It is a horrible way to go, right?”
Noct screamed in rage and pulled with all his might. The ‘crack’ of his elbow breaking from the strength he tried to pull away with was his accomplishment.
The child’s face distorted and morphed into every face of the villagers he had burned alive. Hundreds of voices continued at the same time. “You understand now, right?”
“You are dead. I killed you all. And I will do it again if you do not leave!” A fit of bloody cough finished his fear stricken shriek.
“Because that’s all you know, right? You only know how to destroy what was builded, right? Your family's future, your creations' future, your sister's future, right?”
His fighting spirit breaking down, he focused on funnelling his mana into the collar that inhibited his magic powers before completely losing himself to its imaginations. And he was crushingly close too. The only thing that gave him hope was the very collar that imprisoned him, for it had a small oversight. While it could consume and decompose grey mana, it could only accumulate lifeforce binded grey mana. And Noct only had that one since the battle against the rebels. The stasis magic was also supplying him with unlimited lifeforce, so he could…
“You dare to try and escape the punishment we and you know you deserve?” The voices grew in volume, making the crawling insects fall to the ground.
Noct stopped in his tracks.
“Why are you here if not because you accepted this punishment? You gave up on yourself the day you refused Ixtal’s trade, right?” A few seconds of absolute silence, not even the insects dared to move. A ringing started and increased in volume until he could barely hear the next words, full of hate. “Act like it!”
Noct stopped moving. The flow of grey mana also stopped. The sound of his chains hitting the ground as his body fell on his knee were the ending to his delusions. The illusionary light disappeared as if it had never been there, which it hadn’t.
‘They are right. I was ready to die for so long. Why have I recovered my hope? From where did it crawl back? Why do I have to keep fighting? I have done all I could. The rest of my dues will be paid in my afterlight. I cannot repair what I have broken, nor return the past to what it was. So many slayed by my hand, so many hurt. Lives broken, wars fought, battles won. I do not deserve redemption. I do not deserv…’
“I forgive you, m’lord.” ‘
Five words he had almost forgotten struck him like a train. The light came back and the voices roared.
“What does she know? What right does she have? She knows nothing of you nor our crimes! And yet you dare to delude ourselves into believing her cheap words? Don’t make us laugh! You too know the truth! You have fallen too far, made too many errors! We have run out of second chances!
‘“If you would break a hundred chances, Noct, I would give you a hundred and one.”’
The candle turned into a bonfire, threatening to engulf the table that had reappeared.
“A creation of your choosing. Our puppet. Our failure. A life we brought to life for selfish reasons! An experiment, a number! A placeholder for our parents! How dare we take relief in an arrogant endeavour of ours! He is but an act of utmost greed of ours!”
‘“We are here thanks to you, we live as we want thanks to you. Never forget it or Kal will get really angry.”’
Unnatural warm surfaced in his chest as he remembered Eve.
The table bursted out in flames. The room had turned as bright as a grass plain by noon.
“Your worst sin! Your first and last proper advance in resurrection magic. A monstrosity. A man-made parasic, a man-made vampire! The lover you wished you had! The lover you could never dare to pursue! The happy illusion of a future family! A copy made from the women that our eyes glimpsed! Our vanity project!”
His right shoulder felt a phantom pressure. Kal warmly nodding at him resurfaced in a memory.
The dream fire engulfed the room, licking at him and resurfacing the pain of before, but the voices lost strength. “A child you wanted to have! Always playing the responsible and intelligent adult when he was near us! Number three you named! The trio of experiments!
‘“I am the one who cleans your clothes after all.”’ The sounds of chains moving resonated again.
A pang of regret from the betrayed expression of Albestus his mind conjured straightened his back.
‘“I pray to the Gods now, tell me…Answer me!”’ An irrational thought came with the memory. ‘I still haven’t answered properly.’ His weak legs propelled him to stand, the chains knocking him back to a crouching position.
‘“Stop this already!”’ That childish scream banished the flames, returning the room to its darkness of before. He started to fuel the collar again.
…..
The door of the cell opened, letting in the small light of the hall’s torches.
Marc stepped in, grabbing his nose with a face full of disgust. Words full of edge followed his judgemental glare, “You said you wanted to talk?”
Noct could only mouth the words, no air leaving with his sounds.
Marc stepped closer and tried to focus his hearing. Even this near, he could not hear Noct’s words. Marc tried to read his lips, not that the low level of light or Noct’s crouching position helped him in the least.
His patience reaching his limits, he bent down and, raising Noct by his clothes, he faced him face to face. Once their noses almost touched, Noct smirked and, putting all his strength into it, headbutted the High Inquisitor in the month.
Marc reeled backwards, month bleeding and a few teeth broken.
“Can you hear me now?” The mocking words inflated his ire and, after recovering his stance, he rushed forward to kick Noct. Unstable footing and a feint after, Marc found himself losing his footing and falling face first onto the ground filled with muck. His guards now rushing in, they started to beat Noct for a few minutes.
Marc, having cleaned himself the most he could with normal means, waited a long time before stopping his guards.
Noct, coughing up, saw Marc still waiting and smirked. “Wait. I will talk now, for real. But I think my voice is leaving me a second time. Could you crouch down again?”
After another beating Marc left with his entourage.
………………..