18
Anthill
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She dreamt, which was something she found strange.
Her dreams were long and vivid things, yet, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember the contents of them when she awoke. Small fragments of memories would rise to the surface of her unconsciousness, almost seeming to tease and taunt her with their inscrutability. They faded away as she tried to grasp them, those tiny fragments disappearing like wisps of smoke with every moment she concentrated on them. In the end, all that remained were vague images, sounds, and strong emotions without a context to latch on to.
Some, as was to be expected, invoked pain, regret, and fury.
And yet, surprisingly, a good number of them diverged into something that didn’t reflect her reality in the slightest; that couldn’t, in fact. She remembered warmth, comfort, an image of a bright sun on a blue sky. Laughter. A genuine joy she wasn’t sure she’d experienced in a long, long time.
As faded and nonsensical as that imaginary world was, she couldn’t help but smile as she awoke.
And then, every time, that smile would fade, the imagined joys would die, and she would be left with the here and now.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself lying back on a cool, and slightly less uncomfortable, spot of the stone floor. Her eyes stared blankly at the dark ceiling, whilst her bound hands unconsciously sought for a long-gone something to hold on to.
It took a moment for her to adjust, but in time, she found herself sitting up. Her stomach rumbled, and a faint fog temporarily filled her head.
Chloe licked her lips then, and she wondered, absently, whether she’d ever eaten a strawberry in her life. And, if not, how she could possibly remember and miss the taste.
She sighed, and let her back rest against the wall behind her. Even in this darkness, with little light to work with, she could still make out the contours of the walls around the cell. She could, and had, counted every bump, scratch, and dent from both proximity and memory, across multiple sessions of wakefulness and sleep.
She had nothing else to do but dwell on the monotony of their incarceration. Over the past few days, the initial outrage and shame of their treacherous defeat had slowly faded, giving way to a quiet, nervous anticipation. That, too, had started to grow tiring as the days rolled on, until finally, Chloe felt her emotions settle beneath a heavy apathy.
Chloe exhaled and inhaled slowly, trying to work her awkwardly bound hands into a less painful posture. As she did, her head turned to the side, and her eyes fell upon the single other occupant of the cramped, dark cell.
Her master remained the perfect picture of dignity. She sat with her legs folded beneath her, hands resting atop her knees, back straight, her eyes shut. Her breathing came in slow, even intervals. She showed no signs that anything discomforted or fazed her in the slightest.
Chloe couldn’t help her lips quirking up into a smile at the sight, amusement mixing with a small twinge of guilt. Even in captivity and even while sleeping, Olga Discordia managed to dominate her surroundings just by being herself.
Chloe let her body relax, almost basking in her presence. And, even though she knew it to be a foolish thing to do, she let her thoughts meander back to hope. Because maybe, just maybe, so long as she remained by her master’s side… There might still be a way.
Her eyes drifted shut again, without her noticing, and she still felt that small, foolish smile upon her lips.
Strawberries.
She wondered, then, if she’d ever get to taste one.
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“You’ll be lucky to end up a cripple by the time you’re thirty,” Keane told me by way of greeting when I came to. “You know that, right?” Even as he spoke, his hands roamed over my torso, slowly and methodically prodding for any sign of further damage.
I twitched as his fingers pressed a little too firmly against one of my ribs, exhaling sharply through clenched teeth. Still, I managed to turn that grimace into a shaky smile. “If that’s what you call lucky, I’d hate to see what you think bad looks like.”
He snorted, putting on a smile of his own. “With the way you keep carrying on, you’ll be long dead before then.” After a pause, as the joking expression on his face returned to a more serious one, he added, “I’m sorry. I did the best I could, but… There was no saving your eye.”
I raised a brow at him, confused. “My…?” I trailed off then, the question dying on my lips as I remembered—Or, rather, regained recollection of the events. I’d been fighting, one-on-one against the Dark Queen.
No.
To call that a fight would be a gross overstatement of my ability. I’d tried to kill her. But I’d been nothing more than a helpless witness to a force of nature incarnate. It had been like trying to struggle against the ocean—And losing. Devastatingly, agonizingly, and absolutely.
I should be dead.
Even now, the fuzzy memories began to clear in my mind, and their many details kept returning. How she’d stopped my final, desperate attack. How she’d boiled my body until my eye burst. And how Vault had barged into the room with the Hounds, dragging a woman along as a hostage…
I shook my head slowly, bringing a hand up to the now empty socket of my right eye. My fingers brushed against a thick patch of bandages, wrapped tightly around my face. No wonder everything kept swimming in and out of my vision. It was hard to focus on anything with just my left eye.
“How… long has it been?”
Keane seemed to consider this for a moment. “A week,” he said at last. “It’s morning now, actually. You’ve been in and out of consciousness the past few days.”
I nodded, licking my dry lips, and tried to sit up. Another detail came to the forefront of my thoughts then, and I felt a… tightness around my shoulders, as if cold hands had clamped around them and began squeezing down forcefully. I met Keane’s eyes again. “How many died back then?”
“Huh?” Keane frowned, looking at me as if I’d just asked him the most ridiculous of things.
And, given my situation, maybe I had. Still, I pressed on. “The day of the battle, and in this week since then… Just how many of the others did we lose?”
For a moment, Keane didn’t respond. He only looked back to me, his expression unreadable behind his spectacles. Then, he took in a slow breath and nodded to himself, as if he’d just made up his mind about something. Opening a hand wide, Keane reached forward, and slapped me on the side. The strike wasn’t even that hard, but he knew exactly where he was aiming. When his hand impacted against my rib, I doubled over with a breathless gasp, my vision swimming even more than before.
“Dumbass,” Keane’s voice was more exasperated than angry. “The only person you should be worrying about right now is your own damn self.”
Still, I brought my gaze back up to his after a few moments, and Keane relented, his shoulders slumping with a sigh.
“A lot,” he finally answered my question. “Well over two thousand dead. At least half-again that injured. But,” he added, cutting me off the instant my mouth opened, “it’s a hell of a lot less than if you’d done nothing, Ansel.” He jabbed a finger at me for emphasis. “Maybe it could have been more, then, but all I know is that you made a real difference.” He paused again, as if trying to find the words. “Many of the men have been asking after you since then. Not just the ones who came with us from Geofu, or the spearheads that went against the golem, but… Hell, damn near everyone.”
Despite myself, a small smile began to curl the edge of my lips at that, though I fought it down. I eased myself back into a sitting position. Though, this time, I kept my arms firmly at my sides, covering my ribs. “Still, I…”
“Stop. If you’re seriously about to start with some dumb horseshit about, ‘oh, but I could have done more,’ I’ll knock your ass out for another week.” His gaze was hard, almost challenging, and made it clear that he was only partially joking.
“Fine,” I said, letting the smile creep back. “I won’t apologize.” Then, shakily, I swung my feet down from the bed I was lying on, and made to stand.
“Wha— Hey, the hell are you doing?”
I ignored Keane’s shocked cry and bit down on my lip, focusing only on pushing down the hot jolts that lanced throughout my entire body as I put weight on my legs. The muscles in my calves and thighs protested, having lost their strength after a week of inactivity. I’m sure that only having one eye didn’t help matters much, either. Still, though I could already feel sweat beading on my brow, I managed to stand up fully. After another moment, the pain began to dull, and the room stopped its swirling.
As I took a few ginger steps towards him, Keane eyed me warily, as if he expected me to collapse again. It wasn’t until I was standing in front of him that he finally reacted. “You stubborn ass, what the hell are you even doing? You can’t just get up and start—”
He stopped abruptly when I dipped my chest down, bowing at the waist before him. I might have added a scrape, too, but I was pretty sure that I’d fall over if I even thought about trying it. “Thank you,” I told him, sincerely. “Every time I get in over my head, you guys are always there to bail me out of it in the nick of time.” I looked up at him. “So, if I can’t apologize… Then, thank you for saving my life, Keane.”
At first, he said nothing, though a red slowly began to creep up his ears. Averting his eyes, Keane snorted derisively and muttered, “Yeah, well… You’re so straight up and down, I’m sure you’d have done the same for just about anyone, Ansel…”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
After a time, Keane nodded back to me, and said, “Get back in bed before you finish fucking up your injuries, you suicidal maniac.”
With a chuckle, I did so.
“Say, Ansel,” he began once I had lain back down, “that ring I gave you… You still have it?”
I cocked a brow at him, confused for a moment, before I remembered what he was talking about. Absently, I rubbed at the finger I’d been wearing it on, though I knew the ring wasn’t there anymore. I shook my head. “Oh, uh, no. I guess I must have lost it at some point in the middle of the battle.”
“Seriously?” Keane groaned and rubbed at his temples. “Man… that’s a damn shame, then. Sorry, Ansel.”
“What for?”
“It’s…” he trailed off for a moment, then shook his head and changed the subject entirely. “You know, the human body can only endure so much punishment before it just starts to give out on you. You could give it all the medicine and magic in the world, but the fact remains that there are such things as limits.” Keane paused, as if to give his words emphasis.
He stood up and began to make for the door, though he turned back to me one last time before he left. “I meant what I told you earlier; You’ll be lucky to live to see thirty. One of these days, with the way you keep pushing yourself, you’re not gonna have someone around to save your ass at the last second. You’re gonna push past your limits, and then you’ll collapse and not get back up.”
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It took several more days of bed rest, but eventually, I was well enough to walk again. Though, with how injured my body was, it’d probably be more accurate to say that I was dragging myself forward, rather than “walking.” As it was, I had to make use of a crutch to get along, and I was still moving pretty slowly. I’d strapped a dagger to my belt, though that was mostly due to habit, more than anything else.
The atmosphere of the Black Citadel felt different now, as Keane led me through its winding halls. Not just in the literal way—Though, the fact that the drain wasn’t slowly killing us anymore definitely helped—but more in a figurative sense. A looseness had set in, like a weight had been lifted from all of us. I paused as we walked by a window, and glanced at the world outside the dark walls. In the grounds below, the Hounds walked tall and stood straight, loudly talking and laughing amongst themselves.
Though I was pretty sure it was already well past midday, the day wasn’t a bright one. Above, the blood-red clouds continued to roil and twist, consuming most of the sun’s light.
Most, but not all of it.
At the horizon, and through the odd patches in between the clouds, I could make out small glimpses of the sky beyond Garan, a brilliant shimmering blue. I stared at it for a long time, almost mesmerized by the sight.
Slowly, the world was beginning to shift, as if it was striving to return to its normal, natural order.
It was only then that the reality of it fully hit me. We won. After hundreds of years of living in fear, barely holding against the Legion’s might, the Seven Shields had broken the cycle. For the first time in history, our alliance had broken through the endless stalemate. At long last, Eostia was saved.
“Ansel?” Keane called out, nudging my shoulder. “You coming?”
I looked back at him, and couldn’t help the broad, toothy grin that split my face. “Gods!” I laughed, shaking my head. “We really did it, didn’t we?”
He paused for a moment, almost hesitant, before returning my smile with a small one of his own. “...Yeah. I guess we did.”
I laughed again, even as my vision grew slightly blurry. The sensation was intoxicating, in a way I couldn’t begin to describe. I’d always thought the old adage of someone “floating on air” was an exaggeration, but right now, I understood it completely.
...And then, for some reason, my thoughts abruptly returned to the Dark Queen, and my smile faded.
I’d been so focused on my current situation, that I’d all but forgotten about her. I found myself wondering, then, what had become of her. “Keane,” I began, turning to face him fully. “What happened to—”
Another bark of laughter cut me off halfway, though this time, it was someone else’s. Two men rounded the corner and stumbled into the hallway. They passed a bottle back and forth between the two of them and laughed, so hard it sounded as though they were sobbing. They were also singing. It was… To say the least, it was not the most melodic of sounds.
One of them noticed us, and raised the bottle, toasting us. “Prost, brothers!” he giggled, slurring his words. “Prost! Prost!”
The entire spectacle was so outlandish that I couldn’t help but chuckle along, raising a hand to return the greeting.
The other man looked at him, then over to me, and began to reach for the bottle. Without warning, he froze, and the bottle slipped from his fingers, shattering on the ground. He looked up to me again, eyes wide, and the color drained from his ruddy cheeks.
“The fuck are you doing?” the first one all but shouted to his friend.
The Hound who’d dropped the bottle swiftly elbowed the other in the ribs, and pointed at me. “Marco,” he breathed, “Marco, look! Ginger!”
Slowly, ‘Marco’ looked at me. After a moment, his eyes widened too, and he stood up straight, sobering up immediately.
“Uh… Hi?” I said weakly, now feeling just about as bewildered as the two of them appeared to be.
“Keane,” ‘Marco’ said, pointing to me. “Isn’t that…?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Keane grumbled, waving the two of them off with a withering glare. “Both of you, go be nuisances somewhere else, or something. For fuck’s sake.” With that, he nudged me onwards, down the hall.
I could still practically feel their eyes boring holes in the back of my head as he led me away. I even heard one of them mutter, either to himself or the other, “Holy fucking shit, that was him, wasn’t it?”
Keane and I walked in silence for a while longer, before I worked up the nerve to speak up. “...That was…?”
He groaned and threw me a look over his shoulder. It wasn’t an angry one, exactly. If anything, it more resembled the kind of awkward, long-suffering expression he’d occasionally put on. Finally, he shrugged. There was no heat in his words, only a mild air of exasperation. “I did tell you, didn’t I? Plenty of the others have been asking after you. Only natural that they’ll go and turn into stuttering idiots the second they lay eyes on the so-called ‘hero.’”
I stopped. I stopped so abruptly that I almost tripped over nothing, and had to catch myself on the wall to not fall on my face. Despite everything, a small, disbelieving laugh still slipped through my lips. “You shot who in the what now?”
Keane didn’t deign to elaborate. With another shake of his head, he kept on walking, and I hurried to catch up.
It didn’t take long for us to reach the more populated halls of the citadel, where yet more of the Hounds milled about. And, again, a good many of them dropped what they were doing entirely, staring agape and whispering to their neighbors. A few even reached out, gently patting at my shoulders as I walked by them.
Gods, every part of this reminded me of the reception I’d gotten back in Halem—what seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, that it almost felt like a distant dream at this point. A strange, disconnected memory of someone else’s life.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I almost didn’t notice when Keane led me through a set of doors and into a large chamber.
It was immediately apparent that this had been turned into a barrack for the Hounds within the last few days. Dozens of clusters of bunks and makeshift bedding lined its four walls, but there was a large opening in the center of the room. There, many tables spanned down the length of the room, with enough chairs, stools, and benches to seat well over a hundred men, with plenty of space for many more to stand besides. A banner, bearing the snarling black dog, hung haphazardly from a chandelier at the center of the room. It reached all the way to the floor, softly swaying along with the breeze swaying from the windows lining the far wall.
The room was, again, filled with the Hounds. My comrades mingled, gesturing wildly, drinking and laughing and talking with one another. The entire place had taken on a decidedly festive atmosphere. But, man, there was something to be said for their—or perhaps I should say our—hygiene. The air within was filled with the odor of sweat and dirt, bizarrely intermingled with the sweet scents of cooked meats, wine, and other foods resting on the tables.
Gods, I would have loved nothing more than a bath at that moment, and I doubted I was the only one.
As I took it all in, some of the Hounds noticed Keane and I enter, and immediately leapt to their feet. They each wore a mixture of expressions; curiosity, confusion, disbelief, joy.
“Red fucking Ansel!” one of the men shouted, a wide grin lighting up his features. “The Shielder lives!”
Before I had half a second to think, I found myself clasping dozens of hands, embracing and being embraced, receiving hearty slaps on the back, and more drinks than I could possibly hold were thrust into my hands. Laughs, smiles, and whoops, like the howls of actual hounds spilled from throats, as some of the men tried to pick me up and carry me on their shoulders.
“Easy, easy!” I protested in between the contagious laughter. “Gods, you’ll burst my ears apart!”
Then, in the middle of it all, I saw a sight that took my breath away in a gasp.
He stood tall among the rest of our comrades, broad-shouldered and corpulent as ever, though there was now no evidence of the many scars he once sported, nor of the mortal wound that had killed him just over a week ago. “My lad made it!” Edwin exclaimed, as he opened his arms wide and began pushing his way towards me through the crowd of hollering mercenaries.
My friend plucked me up easily, as if I weighed nothing, and slung me over his shoulder in an awkward half-hug. I laughed harder, even though my ribs ached from the contact, and pounded a fist against his back.
“Lemme down, man!” I shouted into his ear.
“Never!” Edwin gleefully shouted back, every bit as excited, and every bit as loud. He spun around in a wide circle, whooping and cheering along with the rest of the Hounds. I laughed and half-heartedly tried to escape his clutches again, to little good.
From the corner of my vision, I spotted Keane looking at me, the corners of his lips curling up into a small smile. As I met his gaze, he shook his head and muttered something I couldn’t make out. Though, knowing him, I imagined it must have been something along the lines of, ‘Told you they were asking after you, didn’t I?’
My eye burned and became somewhat foggy; partially from Edwin’s dizzying spins, but in truth, mostly from the sheer emotion of the moment.
I imagined, then, scenes much like this one repeating all throughout the kingdoms. Comrades celebrating each others’ survival, families embracing their sons and daughters returning home, and mourning the loved ones who hadn’t. Communities striving to rebuild.
Feasts and funerals, tears, laughter, joy, grief.
This was what the past three hundred years had all led to. This was why we’d fought so hard, bled so profusely, suffered so greatly.
The grand tragedy of our war had come to an end, and this was everyone’s victory.
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We sat for hours, talking well into the night within the barrack. I accepted the wine that was offered to me, but made sure to water it down after my second cup. My head still felt well, but the last thing I wanted was to get drunk and suffer for it in the morning, like during our march from Halem to Ken.
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At some point, Hicks appeared, too. His nose and arms were heavily bandaged, but he was still in good spirits. He smiled widely and fiercely shook my hand once he caught sight of me.
“You lazy shit,” he’d joked, “how’re you gonna sleep for a whole week? We’ve been workin’ our asses off fixing shit up around these parts!”
Lazy Edd produced some meats and cheese for us to share in, while Ghirem told his account of the battle, from the time he’d become separated from his detachment on the road to Garan, much to everyone’s amusement. He rambled on, his tale becoming more fantastical and exaggerated with each telling detail, and I would have begun to doubt the story, if not for the fresh scars he bore, and the many men who corroborated his claims.
Hicks nudged me on the side as Ghirem talked on, a small grin spreading on his face. “So, how about you?”
“How about me what?” I asked, glancing at him.
“Way I hear it, you were up to some pretty amazing shit. Don’tcha wanna regale the boys with your fantastic tales of battle?”
I chuckled weakly. “Not like I have much to tell. You were there for most of it, and the rest was just a whole lot of running and praying.”
“‘Running and praying,’ he says,” Edwin cut in, poorly imitating my voice. “Gods, Red! With the way you tell it, anyone’d think you weren’t even in the battle in the first place!”
Then, he slung an arm over my shoulder, and spoke up for anyone who cared to listen, though I’m pretty sure almost all of them had either seen me firsthand, or heard it all already. “You should’ve seen him!” he said, building up the tale. He gesticulated wildly as he spoke, splashing wine back and forth in the process. “There we were, huddling for cover from that fucking golem, when this—this absolute madlad, he stands up and he says, ‘Let’s charge the fucking thing, head-on!’ And it worked, too! Aye, we took losses. And, aye, I nearly got my fat ass killed, too, but then he picked up my hammer and smashed the fucking thing to bits!”
He took a deep breath, then clapped me hard on the back. The others shouted their cheers. “And he keeps on fighting! He goes on, he walks all the way here, and he fights the Dark Queen, all by his lonesome! And he nearly died for it! Gods, he’s got the scars to show for it! Who the fuck does that? Red! Godsdamned Red Ansel does!”
Another deafening cheer went up, and I grinned sheepishly under the praise.
When I finally managed to disentangle myself from the crowd, I went back over to Hicks, and sat beside him. Again, he gave me a crooked grin. “What’s up? You bored of your admiring crowd already, Herr hero?”
“Nothing like that,” I told him. “But, gods, they’re never gonna let go of this, are they? I’ll probably still be hearing about this years from now.”
He paused for a moment, his flickering aside for a moment. Then, he nodded slowly, though his smile seemed just a bit more strained. “...Probably, yeah,” he agreed, taking a longer drink from his cup than he probably meant to.
I hesitated briefly, wondering if I really wanted to ask what was on my mind, but… I decided I had to. “Where is he right now?” I asked Hicks. “The captain?”
He brought his cup down and frowned, seeming curious at my choice of words. ‘The captain.’ Not ‘Vault.’
“Why do you wanna know?”
“I want to talk to him.”
Hicks started, his expression shifting fully from curiosity to alarm. “What the hell for?”
“Because I—” I bit my lip briefly, then met his eyes, evenly. “—I don’t approve of his methods.”
He sputtered, taken aback. But before he could speak, I went on.
“I keep thinking about the battle, and about the woman he took hostage.” Without my meaning to, my fingers tightened against the table’s edge. “We’d already won, Hicks. He shouldn’t have threatened her life. He shouldn’t have goaded the Dark Queen like that. And I shouldn’t have had to stop him.” I quieted briefly, letting my words hang in the air, before nodding slowly to myself. “He’s a good fighter, and an incredible leader, but that was pointless. It was cruel. Telling him my feelings on the matter is the least I can do.”
Hicks stared back at me quietly, trying to find the words. Finally, he let out a sigh, shaking his head slowly. “You’re just… so straight up and down, you know that, Ansel?”
“Please. Where is he?”
He shook his head again. “Not here. And you probably won’t get a chance to see him for a while.” At my questioning look, he elaborated. “Vault took a couple hundred of the Hounds with him, and now they’re scouting and skirmishing around the region. The Legion pretty much turned tail and ran about halfway through the battle, but Vault wanted to hunt down the stragglers, make sure they don’t consolidate and have another go at us here.”
I winced. “Ah. That’s… probably for the best, then.”
Hicks studied me for a few long moments, before letting out a sigh. “You really feel that strongly about it?”
I nodded without hesitation.
“Fine then.” He stood up and offered a hand to help me up. I took it. “You won’t be able to talk to the boss ‘till he gets back, but there is someone else you could talk to. Maybe you’ll change your mind, then.”
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We descended.
Hicks led the way down a number of winding staircases, through dimly lit and dusty halls, and down more stairs still. Negotiating all the stairs while using my crutch was… an experience, to say the least. At last, we reached a vast corridor in what must have been the lowest level of the Citadel. Here, the air seemed to grow more and more stale as we moved further down.
He’d gathered five other men as we went, who’d been milling about or standing guard along our path. He’d made sure that all of them were sober and armed, preferably with crossbows. Each one of them held himself with a tense seriousness that I hadn’t seen in anyone but the most wary, paranoid of soldiers.
I knew, from the start, where Hicks was leading me. Or, rather, to whom. But I still sped up my gait to walk beside him, and asked him, for the sake of confirmation. “We’re… really going to see her?”
“Yeah,” he responded simply. “Knowing you, Red, you won’t let any of this go. So, here’s to closure, I suppose.”
We walked on, until finally, we reached a set of doors, flanked on each side by trolls. Each nodded to Hicks as we approached, and he stepped inside. I followed after him, into the room beyond.
At first, I saw nothing but the darkness. Then, as my eyes began to adjust to the light of the few dim torches, I began to make out the rows upon rows of empty cells lining the walls. Hicks led me to the very far end of the dungeon, the crossbowmen following a few steps behind us.
We came to a stop in front of a cell. This one was quite a bit larger than the rest, and well-lit by torchlight. Inside, I saw the two of them; The Dark Queen, and the other woman I’d seen in the throne room.
I noticed, first, that the Dark Queen was unharmed. In fact, she appeared completely tranquil, despite her current situation. She sat atop a blanket, leaning against all. She didn’t open her eyes, but I noticed her tilt her head as we approached, evidently awake and aware of our presence.
I looked to the other woman, and it was only then that I realized that she, too, was a dark elf. Her skin was a rich brown, much like the Dark Queen’s, and she shared the same pointed ears. However, the similarities in their features ended there. Hers were softer, in a way. Younger, I suppose. If I had to guess, I’d say that she was roughly around my age. Though, I didn’t know a thing about how dark elves aged, so I couldn’t really say. Her hair was a bright blonde, almost seeming silver, and her eyes were a startling red, like freshly-spilled blood. Her hands were bound tightly by short manacles connecting to a collar around her neck. She glared at each of us as we approached, and I found it hard to meet her eyes.
“That’s the hostage,” Hicks said with a sneer, jerking his chin to the blonde woman. He turned and met my eye. “Listen here; Franz, Henry, Reese, Theo, Louk. And a bunch of others too, whose names I never got. None of those guys were here today to sing your praises, Ansel. All thanks to her.”
I felt my mouth go dry at his words.
Hicks smiled, ruefully, and gestured with his arms, showing me the bandages. “And she damn near did me in, too. Then there’s her.” He gestured next to the Dark Queen. “You two got acquainted pretty well recently, didn’t ya, Red?”
“I—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. “You can let your heart bleed all you like. Hell, go ahead and give ‘em all the pity in the world. But you damn well better remember, every time you look in a mirror and wonder why you’re a fucking cyclops now, remember that she’s the one to blame.” He spat on the ground.
I stood there silently for a long time, contemplating his words. In all honesty… I didn’t know what I’d expected to find here. What I felt now was confusion, as questions and conflicting emotions warred within me. I think I wanted to hate her. I think I wanted to pity her. Maybe I wanted to scream at the injustice of everything.
But more than anything, I wanted to speak with her one more time, and ask the questions that had roiled within my thoughts since I’d confronted her.
I opened my eye and turned to Hicks.
“No,” he answered, before I had the chance to open my mouth.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You don’t need to. I know that look, Ansel. Anyone could tell when you’re about to say some really stupid shit. So I’m telling you, ahead of time; No. Fuck off.”
He was right. I was about to say something stupid. I went ahead and asked anyway. “Do you think I could talk to them alone?”
“Holy fucking shit,” Hicks breathed out, palming his forehead. “Are you deaf? Are you simple?”
I didn’t back down, despite my better judgement. No, in a way, I guess the sheer irrationality of what I was doing stiffened my resolve. I met his glare.
Hicks stared back at me for a long time, gritting his teeth, as if he was looking for something in my eye. I’m not sure if he found it. Finally, he sucked his teeth and turned away. “Don’t go near the bars,” he told me, “and don’t be long.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Hicks.”
He made a rude gesture in response. With that, he rounded up the others, and led them all out of the dungeon.
Only I remained, alone with the Dark Queen and the blonde elf. It was right about then that I realized that I had no plan. In the heat of the moment, I’d gotten ahead of myself, my emotions seizing control of me. Now, I was at a total loss as to what to do next.
After standing around for several awkward moments, I finally decided to sit down at the wall opposite to the cell. The blonde watched my every movement, never taking her eyes off me as I settled the crutch next to me, and lowered myself into a sitting position.
“So,” I began lamely, searching for anything to say. “My name is Ansel Eschenwald. I don’t think I ever caught yours.”
She didn’t reply, just like I’d expected. That didn’t discourage me, though. Instead, I continued to speak on, in the hopes that something would get a response out of her. “You speak Common, right? You understand everything I’m saying? It’d be pretty weird if I started babbling to myself, and you had no idea what I’m even talking about.”
Still, she said nothing, and her expression didn’t change in any way. It was as if my words were hitting the wall behind her and sinking right into it.
“Well, uh… You seem to be a dark elf, just like the Queen. But, I thought there were no more besides her. So, then, does that mean you’re a half elf?”
She stiffened at that, just a little. Her red eyes flickered away from mine, then closed shut. I realized my mistake immediately, as I remembered what the goddess had told me about half elves, and the nature of their existence.
“Sorry,” I sighed to myself. “I shouldn’t have—”
“You have a very kind gaze.”
Her voice was different from what I expected. Soft, and even bearing the hint of a southron accent like myself. Then again, I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d expected her to sound like in the first place. Perhaps I’d expected that the person who’d killed my comrades should have sounded rough and monstrous, like most aberrants.
But no. Hers was a voice like that of any ordinary girl, just as the Dark Queen sounded like an ordinary woman.
Regardless, I wasn’t sure how to respond to her statement. Her own expression didn’t shift, nor did she sound hostile or jeering in tone. She wasn’t mocking me. She was simply making an honest observation. So, I accepted that in good humor.
“Thank you,” I said to her with a nod. “It’s, uh, a bit tricky to get around now, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
She looked at me for a moment longer, then sighed. “I remember you, manling. I saw you in my master’s throne room. When your leader threatened my life.”
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. “...Yeah. I remember you, too. He… I wish he hadn’t done that,” said. I had to admit, I was confused as to where she was going with this. Whether she was grateful, angry, or something else entirely was a mystery to me.
The girl let out a breath and leant against the wall behind her, glancing up at the ceiling. “You have a very kind gaze,” she said again. “It’s nothing like that man’s, or anyone else’s here.” Then, she looked back at me. “It makes me wonder, then, what you’re even doing in their company in the first place.”
I hesitated at that for a moment. “That’s because I—”
“—Wanted to make me answer for my crimes,” the Dark Queen cut in, finishing the sentence for me.
She spoke up so abruptly that I nearly started in alarm. Gods, for a moment, I even completely forgot she was in the room at all.
The girl turned to her too, cocking her head. “My lady?”
The Dark Queen looked at me from where she sat, her inscrutable expression doing nothing to betray her thoughts. “You said as much. Your goal was to capture me, just as your goddess commanded you to. And when that failed, your goal transformed into killing me. Isn’t that right, Ansel Eschenwald?”
Immediately, the girl’s head snapped back towards me, her red eyes narrowing into a glare so vicious I actually flinched back. Her fingers flexed, hands curling into tight fists, even though they were still tightly bound.
I swallowed thickly, and forced my eye to meet the Dark Queen’s once more. As I did so, I struggled to push myself back onto my feet, and nodded once I was standing again. “Yeah. That's right.”
I leaned against the wall, scratching at my chin. Absently, I felt several days’ worth of stubble rasp against my fingertips. I’d definitely have to shave soon. I bent at the waist, as much as I comfortably could, and told them both, “I’m sorry.”
The Dark Queen’s features were unmoving, but her eyes still managed to convey… something. Though, to be honest, I couldn’t quite name what it was.
Either way, she said nothing in response.
Still, I went on. “I guess I convinced myself that I was in the right, so much so that I never once stopped to consider you, or your thoughts in all of this.” I paused, shifting forward a bit to lean my weight on my other foot. “Or, maybe, I suppose I just didn’t want to think about that in the first place.”
Again, she was silent, and I could just about feel the disdain emanating from her as she watched me.
“I, uh, I grew up hearing stories about you, you know? Pretty much every kid in Eostia has, and I think I took them for granted, in a way. A wicked witch who lives in a castle of ice, far in the north. A terrible and beautiful queen who commands an army of endless demons. Just… stuff to frighten kids with. Monsters and ghosts, to make sure they don’t stay up too late. To us—'' I stopped myself, and slowly shook my head. “—No. To me, you… You were on par with the devil. Pure evil, to be hated and feared.”
I felt myself lean into her silence, somehow. Again I sighed. “But then again… To you, we must have been just as bad, too, right? I mean, just a few days ago, you could have killed me and my comrades without a single problem. Heck, you very nearly did kill me. But,” I said, nodding towards the girl, who still fixed me with her glare, “because her life was in danger… You didn’t. You decided that being defeated was a better option than her letting her die. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… With that in mind, I’m having a hard time trying to think of you as the monster from my childhood anymore.”
For just a split second, I could see the smallest hint of surprise slip by her expression. I knew, then, that this was the last thing she’d expected me to say. But the moment faded quickly, and she regained her composure.
Still, it had happened. The girl, too, eased her glare, now looking taken aback.
I couldn’t help but smile as I continued, lifting my hands and opening them to indicate to all of us. “Ever since then, I’ve kept wondering; Why did things have to turn out like this? Why are we enemies? I still don’t know. I really don’t. And I think that’s what bothers me the most.”
I pushed myself off the wall and limped a step closer, ignoring the ache in my leg. My heart skipped a beat at my next words. “But I want to know. The war is over. There’s no reason for us to fight any more. Right here, right now, can’t we at the very least try to understand one another? What is it that we were fighting for? Just what sort of sights did mankind show you, that made you want to see us all dead and gone?”
I reached the cell and stopped before it, looking at both of them. “Hey, Queen Olga… Please, won’t you say something?”
She said nothing. Queen Olga only continued to stare at me, unmoving. Several long minutes passed, and I was just about to give up and step away, when she finally spoke.
“You’re wrong,” she said. I felt my breath catch at that, and found myself leaning back in towards her. “You are not my enemy. Not you, nor anyone else. You never have been.”
Her words took me completely off guard. I opened my mouth, but she continued before I could think of anything to say.
“You ask what mankind has shown me? There is nothing. You ask why the Legion descended upon you? There is no reason. There never has been. You say that we were at war, but that is not true either. To me, what you call a ‘war,’ has been nothing more than a meaningless burden.”
“Are you… Are you serious right now?” I asked, almost at a loss for words. I wrapped my hands around the cell’s cold bars, peering through at her. “These past three hundred years, do you have any idea what’s been happening? Ruined lives, people who’ve lost their freedom, their future, even their very selves—! Do you have any idea how many of my comrades died so we could get to this point? And you’re seriously just sitting there, tell me none of it had any meaning?!” I couldn’t stop myself. My hands clenched painfully around the bars, and my voice cracked as I continued. “All of this happened because of you. How is that okay? How is any of this even remotely okay?!”
She stood up. Though she didn’t quite match my height, the movement still startled me into taking a step back. The Dark Queen met my gaze evenly, yellow eyes boring into my own as she spoke. “When you walk, do you worry yourself about stepping on ants beneath your feet? When you eat, do you mourn the life of the cow or sheep that provided the meat? Certainly, you do not. Because such things are of no consequence. They are beneath you. They are nothing. And when I look upon you, and all of mankind, my eyes see nothing but a mass of ants.”
I heard a dull crack, like an egg breaking, and my hand lit up in pain all of a sudden. It took me a few moments to realize that I’d just punched at one of the bars. I glared at her, every bone in my hand throbbing hotly, and she stared right back. It was hard to say which of us was more surprised by my outburst.
Within a heartbeat, the blonde girl moved, coming to stand between the two of us. “Back off, manling,” she snarled, her red eyes narrowed dangerously. Though, I could see the way her bound hands quivered, and her jaw clenched tightly. It was as if she was afraid.
Afraid. Of me.
I pulled away, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear it in my ears, feel it in my throat, and could even feel it roiling in my stomach. My face was hot, my sight blurry. But more than any of that, I felt as if I’d just swallowed something foul.
I cast my gaze down to the floor, picked up my crutch, and walked away without another word.
----------------------------------------
His uneven steps faded slowly, becoming more and more distant, until she could no longer hear them at all. Olga waited for several moments longer, keeping her eyes trained on the walls before her. At last, she shut her eyes, and exhaled.
The stale air, trapped in the confines of the dungeon, escaped from her nostrils with a gentle, almost silent woosh.
When her eyes opened once more, she turned to Chloe.
Chloe, who still stood in the exact same spot, her back rigid as she clutched at the bars.
“That was a needless risk,” Olga said to her.
Her retainer turned to face her, slowly. Chloe smiled, widely, proudly, and disagreed, “No, it wasn’t.”
She unclenched a fist. The dagger she’d taken from Ansel Eschenwald’s belt fell from where it lay hidden in between her knuckles, and landed on her open palm. Its naked blade glinted with the dim light, like a gemstone’s facet. Chloe looked upon it almost with reverence, as if it were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
She sheathed it again and flicked her wrist, making it disappear up into her sleeve. Chloe’s brows furrowed then, her features setting into an expression of the utmost determination. “This is my fault. I was captured because of my own weakness, and I became a liability to you,” she said. Her eyes almost seemed to burn with the strength of her conviction, as she placed a fist over her heart. “But we’re not beaten yet. I will make this right. I’ll keep fighting for you, my lady. No matter what.”
Chloe. Dearest, loyal Chloe. Despite herself, Olga found her own lips twitching up, smiling slightly in kind. She allowed it, if only for just a few brief moments, before she sat down again.
Despite her affirmations, Olga noted—with some displeasure—that somehow, the light of hurt amidst Ansel Eschenwald’s anger had affected her in a way.
Pity.
It was an absurd, laughable concept, that she would pity the naivete of her would-be murderer. Olga shook away such thoughts. This, more than any other, was not the time one to dwell on such banal things.