Standing before his washroom mirror, Searek could feel it, that dark haunting presence standing behind him. The precipitating of violence to come and the sickening relief that came at the end. He could feel them all. Slowly, and carefully, Searek took his uniform off. Respecting the uniform and the flag was a lesson that Prince Fearless has always reminded everyone, “If you cannot respect your flag and your uniform, don’t bother fighting for it,” repeated Prince Fearless, always, making sure that none of his followers forgot it.
Searek folded his uniform and put it on top of his bed. Slowly, his rugged hands reached out for his wide muscular neck and choked that familiar grunting red color into his face. An invisible spider of pain spun its red threads, slowly connecting its throbbing threads into webs inside Searek’s bulging eyes. Searek heard a quiet pop among the grunts that escaped his strangled throat. A stream of blood coursed out of his nose and two more gushed out at the corners of his eyes. Searek grunted and put more force into his hands. His darkened claws tore out his meaty apple and out with it, blood. A world of geysering hot blood. Blood sprayed washing Searek’s sight and painted it in Sanguine’s color. Inside that redness, Searek saw his justice.
Justice was not the strong hammer of Wonten. Justice was not the long spear and the great sword of Sinintee. It was Sanguine’s poison.
Searek was the first soul to be rescued from the fate of being Sanguine’s trophy. Searek alone remembered them, the truth, the real truth. He requested not to have those memories erased from him.
“This is my punishment. Please, Shandorei, do not take it from me.”
None of Searek’s peers, those who were rescued after him would remember the searing torment that Sanguine has subjected them to suffer as vividly and visceral as they had experienced it. What they felt and what they remembered was a phantom, a shadow of the true experience.
Searek alone remembered the disorientated memory and the sharp acute pain when Sanguine’s jagged tentacle wiggled and probing inside his soul hot with venom. He was the only one among Prince Fearless’ subjects to retain Sanguine’s venom within his soul.
The rest, Prince Fearless has drained out the venom coursing inside their soul and erased the majority of their memory and pain of the time out of his kindness. After all, ignorance and forgetfulness was bliss. None of them would remember the unpleasant nauseating warmth of Sanguine’s venom. But Searek did.
Sanguine’s venom was not the kind that kills or weaken its victim.
“I think I have found the perfect cure to senile dementia and Alzheimer,” Prince Fearless joked at the time when he tested Sanguine’s venom on himself without any prior warning, gulping a mouthful of the venom extracted from Faugus’ soul as Searek, Lust, and Magnamor turned pale from panic. His action and thought have always been so impulsive and unpredictable. “See Misery, what did I tell you? Madness is not a venom. A person doesn’t become mad from a venom injection,” declared Prince Fearless as a pearl of laughter overtook his body.
Sanguine’s venom made a person forgetful with the first drop. The second drop made its victim even more forgetful. But all the drops came after that made a person remember their lost memory in vivid details.
Sanguine’s venom was justice itself for a sinner like Searek. Staring at the red mirror, Searek pondered, “Shandorei, what about you? You tasted this venom. What do you see? What do you hear?”
It was as Prince Fearless has declared. That pinkish venom was anything but the embodiment of madness.
Sanguine’s venom was a venom that constantly refreshed the memories of its victims. It was one that heightened the echoing whispers of Rasahlu and carved the paintings that Yasubotay has carefully drew into a person’s mind. It was a venom that cleaned the muddiness of the mind.
Sanguine’s venom was anything but one that radiated pain throughout a person’s soul. Pain was the whispers of Rasahlu, the probing tentacles of Sanguine, the hollow laughter, the visions of Yasubotay’s pictures and everything else in the world.
Sanguine’s venom was the kind of venom that tolerated no lie, even if those lies were created by Searek’s mind. It was a venom that whispered to Searek of whose hands that tore his children to pieces inside the darkness of his desperation. It’s not human. You should know that. It’s not human.
It was a venom that blurred away the lies and showed Searek of whose sword that lopped off his wife’s neck. It was a venom that reminded Searek of whose blasphemous mouth that was chanting Sanguine’s glory while offering sacrifices to Sanguine for a victory. It was a venom that compelled Searek to gurgle alongside Sanguine’s hollow laughter. It was not the personification of insanity. It was only the catalyst.
Insanity was anything but that venom. Insanity was the belated regret. Insanity was the tears that should roll but refuse to. Insanity was the howls that should come out but stuck at one’s throat. Insanity was the lust for searing pain and true punishment. Insanity was the freshness of the mind, a mirror that showed visions of a person’s wrongness. Insanity was the wish for a void, death, a true death while knowing that it was an unattainable wish. Insanity was the truth, the real truth that appeared in the absence of self-deceit and self-pity.
It was a venom that tasted like the taste of justice.
Sanguine’s venom was justice in and of itself. It barred a soul from reaching the black moon. It prevented one from being saved by Death’s grace. To those who have been smeared with this venom, the black moon would reject him.
If this is not justice, I don’t know what else, Searek thought. Never will he be forgiven by his family and his people. Never will he be able to say sorry to them.
This is justice, Searek stared into his reflection through the bathroom mirror.
Searek has never learned how long it would take for his blood to gush back into his body and his wounds to close. But they always did. Whenever Searek took his mind off from the lessons, the training, the games and the meetings with his peers, he saw himself standing in front of a random mirror, Yasubotay’s favorite object. He thought about committing suicide. He always did. And he would do it. However, a dead person could not die. And a person who has been a puppet of Sanguine would be rejected by the black moon.
Only in this dreamland, Searek existed. He was an orc who was rejected by both worlds. A fitting punishment. Only in this bizarre dreamland that Prince Fearless conjured, Searek could exist.
That haunting presence standing behind him refused to walk away, Searek could feel its presence still. He grabbed his bath towel and formed a noose around his neck. “Hurry, Shandorei, end this break.” Slowly, Searek tightened the noose until that presence behind him seemed to fade into redness.
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Searek trained Prince Fearless in the art of combat whenever he could. Searek knew that Prince Fearless was invincible in this dreamland. But Searek also knew that when Prince Fearless woke up, he was just as weak as an average human.
Searek learned that the Dragonslayer Sinintee’s greatest champion became a master of weapons through his training inside a Divine Dream. Searek only saw the entire training that the Dragonslayer has undergone through a short 15 seconds montage. As the result, Searek hoped that he could, at the minimum, turn Prince Fearless into an average fighter with his training, because unlike the Dragonslayer, Prince Fearless would not receive any blessings from Sinintee or Wonten. Unlike the Dragonslayer, Prince Fearless’ arms would never be able to punch through solid rocks and his legs would never be able to outrun that of a galloping horse. Prince Fearless would never be as fast as an elf or as strong as an orc. Searek could only hope that his training could protect Prince Fearless in the real world.
Prince Fearless was a lanky statue carved out of ice in Searek’s eyes. Too delicate, too thin and too brittle to be subjected to any amount of violence. Sometimes, Searek felt like if he used too much force, Prince Fearless’ entire body would be scattered in the air like a hail. And sometimes, he did.
“Shandorei, here I come,” announced Searek. Prince Fearless nodded his head and lowered his center of gravity, his spear readied.
Unarmed, Searek bulled headlong. His entire body was his weapons, cruel as a giant hammer. Even without a weapon, Searek was Death’s incarnated. The point of Prince Fearless’ thrusting spear flashed in Searek’ grey eyes, a blur, fast but far from being enough to stop Searek. Prince Fearless’ familiarity with the spear only extended to the spear being a tool for stage performance rather than a weapon. It looked beautiful and precise but severely lacking in weight and speed. Searek did not have to avoid it. His stout arm brushed it aside. His swinging fist Death. Prince Fearless, the person who Searek has sworn an oath of loyalty to, he reeled on the ground a long fifteen strides, rolling like a meat doll to a heavy halt. If his fist has landed on the prince in anywhere but this dreamland, Searek would have killed him.
“Again,” Searek shouted.
“Shit,” Prince Fearless cursed and bounced to his feet, his spear readied again. His dark eyes flared up, as usual, speaking of his hatred of losing, always. “COME,” hissed the prince.
Searek resumed the training. He ripped the spear from Prince Fearless’ hand and smashed the prince headfirst to the ground. “Put more weight into your thrust. Again,” Searek yelled, returning the spear to the prince with a casual toss.
“Shit,” Prince Fearless performed a backflip, grabbing his spear. His finger wiggling arrogantly.
Searek launched himself at the prince again. His right fist shattered the prince’s jaws without mercy and launched the prince into the air. “Again,” Searek shouted, yanking the spear out of his left forearm without flinching and tossing it at the rising prince. “More weight. Stab me as if you meant to kill me,” he growled. That was the first wound that Prince Fearless has managed to inflict upon Searek in the day. It always took a few exchanges for Prince Fearless to be mentally ready for combat. But it was not good enough. He has already died three times today.
“Fuck,” cursed Prince Fearless, grabbing the spear with both hands, “COME.”
Searek charged, this time with more caution. Prince Fearless jabbed the spear twice. He nicked Searek’s chest with the second thrust before finding himself reeling on the floor by Searek’s backswing.
“COME,” Prince Fearless was back to his feet again.
Searek advanced, sending the prince’s spear flying with a mighty swat. Prince Fearless dove for Searek’s legs and wrestled him to the ground using the momentum. The prince mounted on Searek, his hidden dagger came out, flashing. Searek stopped the dagger with one fist and pommelled the prince to the ground with the other. The prince’s experience with wrestling came from his many hours practicing with a dummy on Earth. He was good enough to put an unprepared man to sleep by a surprise attack, not nearly good enough to help him in a real fistfight.
“FUCK,” swore the prince as he angrily went to retrieve his spear. “Come,” he wiggled his finger at Searek, determined to win as ever.
However, determination alone would not help him. Searek dismantled the prince in the next exchange, yanking the spear out of his hands and smashing his face with a crippling elbow strike. Searek was not good at teaching and explaining through words. It was difficult to express the right and wrong of combat through words. Searek learned how to fight by exchanging fists with other orcs until he knew how to fight. He swung a sword until he knew how to swing it. Therefore, he could only teach Prince Fearless his knowledge through violence and action. He could only repeat his lessons until Prince Fearless grabbed them.
“Again,” Searek shouted.
“FUCK,” the prince hollered, bounced to his feet and launched himself at Searek like a maddened badger. Searek broke the prince’s neck with a brutal high kick, sending him smashing to the ground.
“FUCK,” the prince cursed and aired his frustration. But never had he complained. Prince Fearless readied himself. No matter how many time Searek has beaten him to submission, the prince refused to lay down. His arms broke like tweaks for a thousand times. His face shattered like pieces of ice over and over. The prince would groan, roll on the ground and cry from the pain until he could snap his fingers to heal himself. “Again,” however, whenever he heard this shout, he would always stand up. “COME,” he would shout with bravado and wiggle his finger to display his arrogance. There was no fear in his eyes no matter how many time Searek fell upon him with the complete brutality of an orc. In his eyes, only a thirst for victory existed.
But thirst alone was not good enough. Again and again, Searek’s fist broke through the prince’s defense with brute force. Again and again, Prince Fearless would curse. And he would stand up only to be punched down like a bag of meat and bone.
Their combat training was not a scene to be shown to the other subjects of the Prince. Especially in front of Sasengun. At the end of the session, Prince Fearless raised his hand, “Don’t speak. I know how much I suck.” He understood that Searek was bad with words and encouragement. He never made excuses for himself either.
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Prince Fearless was always punctual with his time. He gave himself and his subjects one week break. He refused to end the break earlier than that. Whenever Prince Fearless was that adamant about his decision, he always had reasons.
Searek gave up on asking the prince to end the break ahead of time. Once again, Searek found himself standing before his bathroom mirror, staring at his weathered flat nose face. His eyes grey and sunken inside thick and darkened eye bags. His pate shaved clean. His long sandy hair coarse tied backward into three knots, the symbol of his warriorship. One knot, an apprentice. Two, a warrior who passed the five trials. Three, a master of arms.
Searek had his old look, mournful and tired. The one that he had before meeting his end. Before he was chopped down in a vicious storm of swords. His lips scarred. His jaws thick and bloated with his towel balling up from the inside. His face was neither handsome nor ugly among his kin. A heavy mask. Searek was aware that he was not completely sane. So he always kept himself in check with his mask. The only time when he could peel away his mask was when he was by himself, standing in front of a mirror, mostly his bathroom mirror. A sharp knife held firm in his rugged hand, Searek took a deep breath and peeled his mask off in grunting violence. His vision flared up with Yasubotay’s pictures. An orcish sword gleaming red inside the hand of a crying brute. A headless body cold on the ground. The brute howled. His sword curved up and down in savage arcs, brutal, hacking at that cold body. Rasahlu’s whispers were ringing at the back of his head.
“Why?”
It was his wife’s voice. Her last word. The shock of betrayal carved on her rolling head.
Searek then saw it. Underneath the mask that he wore every day, a brutish face of a demon. A face of dripping hatred. An ugly face of hollowing madness. A face of a demon. Searek glared at it, the demon inside the mirror with all of his hatred. His fist flew, shattered the demon in the mirror into a million pieces. But even so, that demon existed.
The demon existed as long as Searek existed.
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Whenever Faugus the old kobold was free from his duty and training, he walked the ground of dreamland and experienced living a normal life among the inhabitants of dreamland.
Dreamland was a miracle created by a man whose fortitude stood the test of time and futility. Dreamland was a miracle for what miracle was. It was a land where everything was granted to a person as long as that person was willing to work, lived and died for it. It was a land where the
Dreamland was a miracle that kept on giving.
And yet, miracle was what separated gods and goddesses from mortals. Miracle was their domain and authority. A man should not touch it or tamper with it. Not because he could not but he should not. The more he tampered with it, the less happy he was. Faugus could already see that through his eyes.
Faugus was among the first people to swear his fealty the creators of dreamland among the 147 souls who swore an oath on that day. Faugus was the second to be rescued from being Sanguine’s trophy. He was trafficked away from Sanguine’s trophy house and entrapping tentacles to regain the form that he last took when he was alive, an old baldheaded kobold with a crooked back and a pair of long arms and short legs. That was nothing short of a miracle. Stealing a trophy from the Sanguine Embodiment of Madness without alarming him, that was a feat of a miracle. It was so miraculous and unimaginable of a feat that Faugus would consider it the greatest heist in the world. If only it did not repeatedly do over and over again, for hundreds of millions of times until Sanguine’s trophy house became empty of souls. Sanguine, the Demon Lord of Madness, the Embodiment of Madness was but a foolish and helpless child existed in dreamland, inside this miracle.
But the man, who was able to pull off such miracle, became less happy as the number of souls that he saved from Sanguine’s trophy house increased. It was as though he was reminded that man could not fix everything, not even when he commanded a miracle at his liberty. It was as though that he has realized the limitation of miracles. It was as though he has realized that miracles were not the answer that he was looking for.
He appeared happy and nonchalant. His eyes darkened with pure arrogance. His smile brilliant, a certain promise of hope and victory. But his gait appeared forlorn as though weighted down by troubled thoughts and the sorrow of life. He was never afraid of shaming himself in public. He could weep openly and speak of his sorrow inside the chest of a woman who loved him and in front of his millions of admirers. He did not care if an orc or a Garuda thought that tears were the signs of weakness. He did not care if a faun believed that a bright and happy smile was the sign of boyhood and feminity. He did not care if his subjects and admirers were heartbroken from being disillusioned thinking that he was a man forged from Titanite. He would weep when he felt like crying and he would smile whenever he felt like it. He lived a life free of people’s expectation for him.
But he was disciplined enough to never let his most sorrowful thought slipped out of his mouth, not once. He could share his greatest joy with his people and admirers. But he has never shared his greatest sorrow with them, that, that differentiated a man from a woman. Men stubbornly held their sorrows inside their chest while women shared them. Even though they might not realize it, most men held an instinctive belief that they were above their sorrows and sorrows were things to be fixed. Men had an intuitive belief that they could fix their sorrow rather than women, who would share their sorrow as their first instinct, even though sharing would not fix anything.
In the end, he, too, was a man. Prince Fearless was that kind of man.
At least, that was what Faugus believed. Faugus spent his free time living among the
There were people like Ember who considered dreamland as the “Ultimate Distraction.” They would rather spend their time studying new tactics and strategies or refining the old ones. There were also those who saw dreamland as their oasis just like Searek. They visited dreamland and watched how the inhabitants of dreamland lived from afar. Watching these
Dreamland was considered as the greatest miracle that Prince Fearless has conjured. How and which manner that the miracle was used, what form did that miracle took and what kind of fruits that the miracle bore reflected that Prince Fearless’ character.
In dreamland, Isonos saw a nihilist god whose brilliance and greatness matched his ego. Isonos came to dreamland to study the bizarreness of the
All of these inhabitants were taught to employ and execute violence and destruction in the most harrowing manners at a young age. They were a race of people who consistently created 9 years old children that were more fit at fighting a war than doing housework. They could already recite every line in Sun Tzu’s and Machiavelli’s Art of War as though those texts were their favorite hearth stories. And every grownup of this
Isonos came to dreamland to study the aptitude for war and destruction of these people. He studied their ideal, their drive and worship. And thus, he saw a god.
Faugus, however, studied the life of the
The
“Si vis pacem, para bellum.” The
“Distribute nukes to people who know exactly how to make the most use out of them. As a result, the very moment a person uses his/her nuke, he/she has already marked his own destruction and unhappiness. The moment a person use his nuke, he will definitely destroy his enemy at the very cost of his everything. His life, his family, his happiness and everything that he loves and cares. That’s why nobody would use his/her nuke or act upon his/her recklessness. That’s how world peace is achieved.” Isonos drew this insane philosophy from his observation of the peace in dreamland.
That was how Isonos understood the phrase “Si vis pacem, para bellum.”
Isonos saw ingenuity from this philosophy. Faugus only saw sadness and hopelessness. The
However, this method would definitely do not work in the real world. Faugus drew his conclusion as he gazed at the sky of dreamland. “URLOX, if you had any love for your Champion, give him not glory, greatness or power,” the old kobold prayed for a miracle.
Prince Fearless was calling “a tactical delay” on this war. He was preparing himself for it but he was delaying it at the same time. He would rather play some music, read books, and find enjoyment and pleasures in life than fighting a war. Yet, war was inevitable. War was already here, in dreamland and in the real world.
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When Prince Fearless gave the one week break to his General Staff, only Lynx took that break as it was, a break from any ROC related topic.
Lynx, the Pale Elf was among the 147 souls who vowed to aid Prince Fearless in his conquest while knowing that his enemies were greater than life themselves, beings that only appeared in legends and myth. Immortals. Beings that controlled the fate of Escana. It was just insane that a person would wage a war against such beings. That kind of war was something Lynx would refuse to fight now that he has known the terror and the force that a Demon Lord like Sanguine wielded. He has lived and felt Sanguine’s intention and horror long enough to stay out of the path of any immortal beings. The people who waged and fought that kind of war were insane, that was Lynx’s unchanging belief. But it was even more insane that Prince Fearless might be the first and the only person to win that kind of war.
So which is the insane one? This reality? This world? Or Prince Fearless?
Those questions were a part of Lynx’s daily ritual every time the sun rose and set on the horizon of dreamland. Lynx kept repeating these questions twice a day to remind himself just how surreal and abnormal the world around him was. But above all, Lynx had no intention of being someone else’s puppet again. When he was alive, Lynx was unknowingly a puppet of Sanguine and he has remained Sanguine’s puppet even after he was killed.
Though Lynx was grateful that Prince Fearless has saved him from Sanguine, Lynx was not compelled to follow Prince Fearless out of his immense sense of gratitude like Sasengun and Searek and many others. But not only Prince Fearless was fine with that, he actually encouraged it, selfishness and personal goal among his subjects and followers just like any great emperor, king, and empress would have done.
A good leader would never convince his follower to work for his personal interest, he aligned his own interest with his followers’ interest and convinced them to act for their common interest. A great leader would go a step further hiding his motive and personal interest and acting like he was working for the sole interest of his followers. A great leader would convince his followers that he was working for them and not his own interest. Lynx meddled with politics long enough to grasp and understand that wisdom intuitively. He could see through the wisdom and calculation in Prince Fearless’ words and action.
However, as Isonos often reminded everyone, “True arrogance is presuming that you could see through our teacher’s intention.”
Lynx hated Isonos. Nobody liked Isonos. But he knew that Isonos was just as wise as he was. It was impossible to grasp the true extent of Prince Fearless’ goal and intention. His words and actions were often mismatched and misleading.
Lynx could still vividly remember that time when Prince Fearless addressed that conflicted crowd of 147 that Lynx was a part of.
“Do not follow me out of gratitude alone. Gratitude is the cheapest emotion and it is so cheap that it is practically free. I don’t expect any of you to slave yourself for my cause for free. And I do not wish that any of you should do that, working and sacrificing yourself for my cause without any compensation in return. I believe that I am a better talker than most people. I can spout bullshits like any king, queen, emperor, empress, or even Demon Lord and make you believe in my bullshits. I can certainly speak pretty dreams and dress my words in sugary lies to influence you to live and fight for my lofty ambition like slaves. But I will not. I shall not.”
Prince Fearless was certainly a great seducer of both man and woman as he said, and perhaps even more. He was a person who cheated Death once. Next to him stood Magnamor, the Thousand Burning Eyes Demon Lord who shook like a blade of grass in a whipping storm. A person could never convince that cowardly Demon Lord to defect his kin if he wasn’t a great talker. A person could never convince Magnamor to analyze and breakdown Sanguine’s venom if he wasn’t a great seducer. How to fight a Demon Lord? With a Demon Lord. How to combat a miracle? With miracles. Lynx was the first to understand Prince Fearless’ reasoning with his approach. Lynx studied alchemist while he was alive. Lynx understood that sometimes the cure of a poison was another poison. Prince Fearless did not use any blessing to combat Sanguine’s venom and curses.
“I believe that all of you deserve much better than your current fate. You deserve much better than living the life of a slave and a puppet. Though Escana remembers you as demons and slayers of your kin, derange sinners, betrayers, and deceivers, I believe that there has been no great conqueror and benevolent kings and queens who were not slayers, deceivers and sinners. And if you had committed any sin and atrocity in life, I believe that you have been punished long enough being tortured by Sanguine’s venom and whim. I believe that you have served your sentence long enough.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
While it’s not much, take this opportunity as a new page in your life.
While you are free to think that working for me as an atonement for your past deeds, I don’t think it is.
You already carried out your sentence. You have already atoned for your mistake and sin.
I have told you this before and I will repeat myself until all of you understand my words. All of you who stand before me are free men and women now. I will not force you to make any choice. If you wish for peace, you are welcome to live inside my dreamland. If you wish for vendetta, the door to the mirror hall is always left open to you. But if you are willing to help me, I will treat you as my employees.
Know this, I did not ask you to work for me because of your names and your accomplishment alone. I believe in your character. I do not employ people of questionable and evil characters. Those whom I have deemed evil, demons and worms, my kind, I have left them untreated from Sanguine’s venom. I kept them where they should be, in the depth of my mind where they would be forgotten. I shall repeat myself again here. Whatever the crimes and sins that you have committed while you were alive, you have been punished long enough. You have carried out your sentence much longer than you should. You should forgive yourself now. But if you still feel like you cannot forgive yourself, I will try to speak on the behalf of the people of Escana here,” said Prince Fearless.
Alfland was a queendom where Lynx came from. It was considered a holy land for the followers of Eogaill in the elven world. In Alfland, Politics was a critical study. It was compulsory education for any elf of the age of 60 and beyond. But of course, not all the course attendants were of the age of 60, many attended this course at a much younger age for various reasons. The study of politics was the kind of study that made a person quickly lost his faith in the goodness of the people. It was a study that shattered the illusion about virtue, goodness, self-sacrifice, patriotism in a person’s heart. It taught its students to understand and read desires. It taught its students to be realists when managing queendom and people.
Prince Fearless could read that one desire that Lynx and his band of 147 had in common. Gratitude was a convenient excuse for them to follow him. It was as Prince Fearless has said, Gratitude is cheap.
“I am Fearless, the Prince of The Alliance. I know demons and worms by their looks, their sounds, and their smells. I am one of them, their worst and their hunter that’s why I know them better than most. I am the paragon of injustice. I know injustice when I am around it. Therefore, I can say for sure that you are neither demons nor worms. Therefore I can say for sure that your fate and your punishment is an injustice. You have carried out your sentence. You have been punished long enough. I will speak on behalf of Escana and her people, I forgive you. We forgive you for everything. Therefore, you should learn to forgive yourself.”
At the time, even though he knew that those words were carefully crafted and woven, Lynx was gritting his teeth and clenching his fist as tight as possible to prevent himself from crying. But next to him, many were already in tears. Many were already sniffling, even the stoic and war-seasoned Searek. Prince Fearless just said something that deep down Lynx and many have wished to be told by someone. Anyone, because the one who could tell those words to Lynx and the crowd surrounding him no longer exist. Therefore, anyone would be fine. Anyone could say that but no one did. Only Prince Fearless spoke them.
“You are all free men and women now. And you all deserve much better than what I can provide you at the moment. If you work for me, you are my employees and I am your employer. While I cannot give you wealth or personal glory, I will try my best to accommodate your wishes. If you have any regret or personal wish that I can fulfill, name it, I will try my best to fulfill it for you whether it in this dream or in reality. That’s the least I could repay you for your service. An oath for an oath.”
Up until this point, Lynx has expected everything. Then, something unexpected happened.
Even when Prince Fearless has said something like that, not everyone could be as bold and greedy as Faugus. That old kobold despite his forlorn and weathered look asked for an impossible wish, an insane wish, the greediest of a wish, “Me people are deemed as monsters. Me people are hunted and killed on sight. Me people can only live by raiding and reaving and scavenging. Me people are the most hated race even among the Walking Curses. If it is possible, Shandorei, please grant me people a dream, a land, and perhaps a future where me people can live in harmony among the other races.”
Faugus was unabashed when the look of scorn showered his ungrateful figure. He stood tall, as tall as his old crooked back allowed him and looked at Prince Fearless in the eyes. If that wish was an insane and an impossible wish, a great burden in exchange for the loyalty of a greedy kobold, Faugus was shameless enough and wise enough to ask the only person who might be able to grant it to him.
Kobolds were considered pests, the worst kind of pests on Escana. Lynx has learned that through his time living on Escana. The hatred for kobolds was deep-rooted in every race. Prince Fearless should only give a half-hearted reply and promise to get Faugus to work for him.
“While I cannot promise you that I can grant you that wish immediately or at any time soon, and I am not exactly a forgiven person when it came to the act of robbing and reaving, I swear to you on the color my flag that I will make it a reality for you. That day will come, mark my words.” Only Prince Fearless could reply to that wish with such confidence and seriousness. Only Prince Fearless could be insane enough to grant such a wish.
“I know that I am far from being worthy of your aide. I was the greatest failure of my kin. I have accomplished nothing in life. And I have accomplished nothing either with my death. I am lacking much in talent and ability to help you to attain your goal. Therefore, I offer you everything that I possess. My soul, my courage, my wisdom, everything. If you command me to be a puppet of Sanguine once more, I would gladly do it. I am yours until the days my soul no longer exist.” Faugus groveled on the ground and wept.
Lynx did not know that a kobold could weep like that. That was an unforgettable scene to everyone who was there to witness it. Even so, not everyone was shameless enough to ask Prince Fearless of such shameless wish when he was their savior, not that they had such ambition in them either. Whatever they tried to accomplish in life have already ended with their death. Their successes and failures were already history.
Lynx only asked to live inside the Commonwealth Archive to exchange for his service. Prince Fearless granted Lynx’s wish while he often reminded Lynx to be more honest with his desire.
But Lynx could not think of anything else. He had no wish to fight another war and another battle. He had enough of war and battle like many others. The Commonwealth Archive was opened to Prince Fearless’ subjects. Anyone who wished to visit it could visit it at any time. It mostly contained the wealth of knowledge that Prince Fearless has collected in years with the contribution of his many subjects. Anyone who wished to contribute their wisdom was free to add and contribute to the Archive.
The Commonwealth Archive was like a home to Lynx even though Prince Fearless has built a mansion for him. Lynx spent so much time inside the Commonwealth Archive that Prince Fearless trusted him with the task of managing the Archive. Even though Prince Fearless understood that the reason Lynx spent so much time inside the Archive had nothing to do with his own thirst for knowledge, he still made Lynx his librarian.
“Don’t listen to what others may tell you. Don’t allow peer pressure to tell you what to do and what not to do. Especially Isonos, don’t let him talk you to work for me. Listen to your heart. If you want peace, stay rested and search for your peace. Don’t feel guilty about not helping me. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about.”
That was not how leaderships worked. That was not how a great leader would motivate his subjects. It was as if Prince Fearless was trying to convince Lynx to stay off from the war games and the incoming war.
Lynx felt like Prince Fearless must have told the rest of his subjects with the same thing. It was difficult to tell if Prince Fearless wanted to convince people to fight for him or not. It was as though Prince Fearless was fine with either result. Whether people would follow him or not, Prince Fearless would go to war regardless.
It was said that the differences between insanity and eccentricity could only be distinguished when the goal was reached. Until the end was reached, insanity and eccentricity were practically the same.
The creator of Dragon Bane, for instance, had she failed to create Dragon Bane at the end of her story and died without avenging her children, people would tell a story of how mad she was. They would tell a story of how crazy and obsessed she was in her quest of vengeance trying to create an impossible poison that can kill a grown dragon. Had she failed, that would be who she was, an insane woman who thought she could kill a dragon with a poison. But she succeeded in her quest. She managed to create the evilest and deadliest poison in the world, and thus, her story was told in a different light.
Until Prince Fearless put an end to his war, it was impossible to judge if he was insane or eccentric.
However, Lynx judged Prince Fearless to be an eccentric man. He hoped that was the case. Otherwise, Lynx had just escaped Sanguine’s madness only to be infected with a worse form of madness.
Lynx believed that Prince Fearless was one of those eccentric people whose talent matched with the level of their eccentricity. The inner working of his mind worked differently from that of normal people. Though, Prince Fearless explained that it was because he came from Earth, a different planet. Lynx considered that was a lazy explanation. If Earthling were a race of people whose mind operated similarly to Prince Fearless’ inner working, Earth would experience no war between Earthlings. War was a line that Prince Fearless drew out for himself to keep himself in check. But when that line was crossed, Prince Fearless would stop at nothing to realize his goal even if he must crash himself into pieces. If everyone was equally as dangerous, meticulous and radical as Prince Fearless, they would do everything within their capability to avoid war.
But then dreamland was that kind of land, an eccentric world where its inhabitants would resolve all form of conflicts were with talks and agreements even though all of them were all educated and trained in the Art of War at their early age. Every self-proclaimed “Stupid people of Fearless” was like an alternate version of Prince Fearless, an offshoot of him that was equally as eccentric and extreme as he was. These people educated violence and destruction like an art to their younglings at a very young age.
And yet, this dreamland had known only one war since its creation day. It was a religious war where the most radical inhabitants united together to fight and kill each other to send their message to their creator Prince Fearless. It was a ridiculous war, a most harrowing war where every soldier was a general and every general was a soldier. It was a war fought between thinking-armies where even a small 10 men unit could provide a tactical advantage on a larger scale to their army. It was a war that overturned the meaning of blunders, defeats, foolishness and common sense.
“This is a war fought between the most extreme terrorists and every terrorist participated in it was a WMD,” Prince Fearless has once commented with visible distaste about this war when Isonos brought the subject up at a General Staff council meeting. But then, Prince Fearless would also say, “You are free to study about this goddamn stupid war in the Archive for references. But do me a favor, keep the materials related this war out of my sight.”
Lynx studied this war on his own just as many of his peers. It was a baffling war where the most ingenious decision could appear to be the worst ill-advice decision and vice versa. It was a war that showed a middle finger to logical reasoning. It was a war that overturned common sense, a most harrowing war, a war that left distaste in the heart of the people who studied it.
As a result, nobody has conducted a more extensive study on this subject like Isonos. He worshiped Prince Fearless as if he was one of the “Stupid People of Fearless”. Isonos did not just study that war extensively, he has written over 20 treatises to explain the pros and cons of every decision, tactic, and strategy employed in that war in details. Isonos was the only one that Lynx knew who could say, “It’s worth it. 7 millennia of being a slave to madness and pain for a fateful meeting with someone who I can admire and call a ‘Teacher’, it’s worth it.” Isonos’ eyes were normally dripping red with Sanguine’s venom of insanity but when he said that, it appeared that he was the perfect embodiment of insanity. He had no remorse regarding how he littered the world with corpses when he was in power or how he nearly doomed his entire race to extinction. He had no regret regarding of suffering that Sanguine has subjected him to for the length of 7 millennia.
“Must I again suffer another 7 millennia being a slave of Sanguine to meet teacher, I would gladly accept it. It’s too cheap of a price to exchange for something so great.” Only Isonos could embrace something like that with such confidence and eagerness.
Even Prince Fearless had to warn his subjects about Isonos, “That one is 11/10 on the scale of insane. None of you should follow his example. I am not a fucking God. So don’t worship me as one.”
While Lynx was extremely grateful that he was able to meet Prince Fearless, he was unable to imagine himself being willingly become a puppet of Sanguine for another second. Sometimes, Lynx thought that perhaps Isonos was like that because he was attached to Sanguine so much longer than everyone else of the General Staff. Among the 147 people who volunteered to be Prince Fearless’ aides, Isonos and Sasengun suffered at the clutch of Sanguine’s insidious puppetry the longest. But they could not be more different.
Just like Lynx who has nested inside the Commonwealth Archive, Sasengun made her home in the Cradle, the home of those newborn and unborn babies who Sanguine selected as his Champion for his twisted entertainment. Their undeveloped soul would never develop to that of an adult or ever recover from the damage of Sanguine’s venom. Not once they understood what sanity was before Sanguine’s venom robbed it away from them. There, in the Cradle, these babies resided. There, hundreds of Prince Fearless’ maids acted as their mothers who would never give up on them and took care of them unconditionally. There Sasengun would visit whenever she was not inside Prince Fearless’ arms and receiving his love or doing training or researching. There her anguishing wails often mixed with the cries of those babies. Sasengun made a home for herself inside the Cradle to search for atonement, unlike Lynx who made a nest for himself in the Archive for respite.
Even though Prince Fearless thought that he should accommodate Lynx with something grander and more meaningful, the Archive was Lynx’s solace and haven.
The books, the video and audio records kept inside the Archive was Lynx’s solace, the things that kept the Pale Elf from hearing Rasahlu’s seraphic whisper.
“When the dark forest rose from the eastern shore,
Elven blood shall drench Still Garden
Lynx, son of no one, what shall you do?
Watch as your people became fruits of the dark forest,
Run with your lord, or shall you stand for your people.
Lynx, son of no one, who shall you be?
A coward of your people or a Hero of Still Garden.”
The Whisperer of Madness, Rasahlu, her voice was that of a Valkyria, a bright voice, an unsullied voice that infused courage and goodness into the heart of people. A voice of benevolence, the complete opposite of her blackened heart.
Perhaps if her voice was grating and slimy like a quagmire of madness and pain, Rasahlu would never have that title, the Whisperer of Madness. Nobody would listen to her whisper. Had Lynx known that at the time, he would not trust her so readily. He thought she was one of the Valkyria who hid her figure from his eyes for his own good. How could he know? He was Lynx, son of no one, a normal elf. He was not Prince Fearless who could detect malice and lie through his sharp hearing. He was Lynx, just a young elf who has strayed from his path to becoming a magus. He was no one special, no one important. He was not Prince Fearless who would question Rasahlu’s agenda repeatedly until he could understand it. Prince Fearless would question why he was given such prophecy but the others were not.
On that day when a forest of black sails rose from the eastern shore, tragedy befell on Still Garden.
Kobolds, thousands of kobolds of different tribes united together for one great raid, the raid of Alfland. Even the flags of conflicting kobold tribes could be seen fighting side by side together. Never before such mass of Kobolds has been witnessed.
A living forest of starving kobolds ripped through the countryside of Still Garden, burning villages, killing elves, raiding and destroying everything in their path. They herded and chased the surviving elves toward the high gates of Still Garden. The gate of Still Garden barred the unfortunate survivors from entering for the fear of the kobolds would flood the city alongside the survivors.
The killing and raiding of the surrounding area of Still Garden continued for two straight days.
Two days were long enough for many things to happen. Two days were long enough for the kobolds to cut down the trees around Still Garden to build hundreds of shielded ladders to storm the battlement of Still Garden. Two days were long enough for the kobolds to build their battering rams. Long enough for the kobolds to raid and expand their raiding force on the neighbor regions of Still Garden. Long enough for the kobold to assemble and flaunted a thousand of their notorious living meat-shields to demoralize the wall defenders. Elves lived in their villages around Still Garden were either turned into meat-shields or cooked to feed the starving kobolds. Those were the lucky ones. The unlucky one became toys to entertain and appease the kobolds’ twisted resentment toward elven kind. Those living meat-shields destroyed the will and resolve to fight of the wall defenders, asking them if they would dare to shoot arrows and fire their spells at their own kind.
Two days were long enough to provide an immeasurable advantage to the kobolds. Long enough for even young elves of Lynx’s age to be drafted to defend the barbed walls.
The barbed walls of Still Garden fended off the kobold’s attack five times, just long enough for her Lordship of Still Garden escaped with her consort and family through the city aqueduct. They were immediately captured, stripped of their clothes and became a fine collection for the raiding kobolds. The jagged thorns of the Saber Ivies growing out the wall of Still Garden, the crow feather arrows, the spells bestowed by the four patron deities, the razor edge of elven scimitars, the sharp pointy end of elven spears and the bravery of the lordless soldiers held the kobolds back for two more days.
Lynx was an alchemy hobbyist at the time. He was supposed to follow the path of a magus but he ended up straying from his intended path.
Alchemy was not an appreciated art in the elven world even in the holy land of the followers of wisdom. It required the lost knowledge of the ancient Titan. It operated on a different design of miracles that the four patron deities of Escana provided. But above all, it was an inefficient and costly art.
To create a healing potion, an alchemist needed to gather the correct alchemy ingredients that could tolerate the blessing intended for the ritual and made a proper alchemic ritual to infuse the blessing into the alchemy ingredients that he collected. It was inefficient in the elven world.
Whenever an elf required healing, she only needed to visit an Essence Temple and a priestess of the Essence Temple would only require to chant a prayer to Niwdar. And elves were children of Niwdar. Her blessings coursed inside the elven blood. Out of ten female elves, seven received Niwdar’s blessing at the moment of their birth.
Alchemy was an appreciated art in the world of man, but not elf. It was considered a costly hobby rather than a valuable and prestigious study. That was exactly who Lynx was at the time, an alchemy enthusiast. Lynx went to a school that produced magi but instead learning about spells and miracles, he pursued Alchemy instead. His room stocked with alchemical poisons and healing potions and ancient documents of the Titan instead of research papers about spells and miracles. He was smart enough to recover many damaged recipes from the old documents through trials and errors and even came up with new recipes. But he was not smart enough to keep his hobby and his schoolwork separated.
Expulsion was rare but it was a looming possibility for those who have strayed far from the intended path. Lynx happened to be the fifth student to be expelled from the school in a millennium.
As Lynx watched the kobolds preparing for another wall-storming while the ocean mist set in, he started to understand why Rasahlu has whispered to him and no one else. He proposed a plan to the commander of the wall defenders. Lynx noticed that the kobolds drew water from a local lagoon. He proposed poisoning the creeks that connected to that lagoon with alchemical poisons.
The usage of alchemical poisons in the war was banned across the elven world under a common agreement between all kingdoms and queendoms. It was considered the most heinous war crime.
However, there was saying, desperate times breed desperate answers. Perhaps if that army of besieging kobolds were elves and if they did not flaunt those living meat-shields, the commander of walls would not agree to Lynx’s proposal so readily. That elven woman would probably look at him with scorn instead. She would probably drill some sense of honor and pride into his head.
Lynx contacted with his fellow alchemy hobbyists and gathered all manners of alchemical poisons from their combined hoard. Lynx opted for the unnoticeable and slow-acting kinds. Kobolds were known to possess a sharp sense of smell, therefore the kinds with intense smell were out. Also, using quick-acting alchemical poisons would alert the kobolds about the contamination in the lagoon immediately.
Those three alchemical poisons were among the most common and available alchemical products among the combined hoard. They were also the most harmless substances from the hoard. Then there was
Kobolds had a superior vision and sense of smell than most elves. Their eyes shone in the darkness like that of dogs and cats. They were savages that often cannibalized their own kind. While they could create tools like dwarves and elves, they embraced a life of constant raiding, reeving and killing instead. Kobolds were pests. They were so stupid that even farmers could kill them. That was what Lynx was taught about the kobolds.
On that day when Lynx was captured by the kobolds, he was shaking with the imagination of how savagely he would be killed by the kobolds. And yet, he could not kill himself. He was too terrified to even think about that prophecy he heard in his dream and cursed it. He was dragged before a strange kobold whose coat was thick and shaggy like entangled willow branches, and hazel eyes that were so round and wide with intelligence.
There Lynx met Bauromon, the Elf Slayer, a kobold so smart and strong that he could be both a scholar and a warrior among elven kinds. Bauromon could fluently speak many different kobold’s dialects, elven tongue, and even Titan tongue.
There Lynx learned that all kobolds could read and write better than most elven scholars that Lynx had ever met. Their eyes contained magic power that allowed matured kobolds to understand intention and knowledge from reading runes and writings.
There Lynx first learned of a mysterious kobold king who has united all the different tribes under his banner and was pushing toward the queen’s city of Alfland with the bulk of his army.
There Lynx fulfilled Rasahlu’s first prophecy by killing someone who has shown him mercy and respect. He became the Pale Elf, Hero of Still Garden.
“Hail Lynx, Brave Hero of Still Garden
Hail Lynx, Lord of Still Garden,
Hail Lynx, Protector of Alfland,
Hail Lynx, Emperor, King of all kings.”
That second prophecy was Lynx’s greatest glory and folly, his greatest shame and his greatest punishment. Even now when he was inside Prince Fearless’ Archive, his ears were ringing with Rasahlu’s whisper and Sanguine’s laughter that came with it.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When he was a child, Isonos could not fly like his kin. No bird could fly on one wing. No Garuda could do that either. But Isonos tried, flapping his wing, imagining himself soaring through the sky like his people and gazing down on Escana from the blue sky. His one good wing immediately broke into four pieces and white bones spew out of his feathers when Isonos flapped it with all his might. So Isonos could only gaze at the distance, imagining what laid beyond the horizon instead of flying up the sky and seeing it with his eyes.
The world was huge for a Garuda like Isonos. Beyond the sacred mountain was an open world of green islands and ocean, beyond that horizon laid other horizons, beyond a sky laid another sky. The world has always been so huge. Beyond life was death. And beyond death, dreamland and ROC.
When Prince Fearless first introduced ROC as a game to his vassals, Isonos had a vision of an egg of a new world order. An exciting world of possibility, challenge, and adventure. And at the center of that new world was Prince Fearless himself, the embryo.
Isonos believed that his mission was to make that egg hatched.
Isonos rolled his wheelchair to the Archive today as well for three straight days. It has been three days since Prince Fearless has given a one week break to his General Staff. While most of his vassals believed that Prince Fearless burned out from mental exhaustion from that long match, Isonos argued that Prince Fearless was being disappointed instead.
When the one who Prince Fearless has considered as his best student could only amount that much, prolonging that match for a mere six days even with a total defense approach, it was unbearably disappointing. She should, at least, be able to keep that match lasting for three months to be worthy of being Prince Fearless’ best student. It was a Defender vs Defender battle. That kind of battle should last forever and ever until one side snapped out of their original plan and opted to be an Ender instead. The fact that the match lasted only six days was a major disappointment to Isonos. Therefore, Isonos could imagine the disappointment that Prince Fearless must have felt.
If Isonos was a person who was endowed with that many gifts and talents while being carefully taught by Prince Fearless the way Pride was, Isonos believed that he could prolong that match until Prince Fearless returned to his root, being an Ender once again. He would never disappoint Prince Fearless the way Pride did.
“What’s up, Lynx? Your face looks like there is an arrow stuck inside your knee.” Isonos greeted the librarian and manager of the Archive as soon as he entered it. Lynx, the Pale Elf sat at the counter of the Archive as usual.
“And why are you talking like His Highness today?”
Lynx’s grimacing face deservedly gave him his moniker the Pale Elf, bleached white and nestled with a slovenly weaved net of swelling purple blood veins, a lasting effect from the time when Lynx tested his alchemical poisons on himself.
“I thought that if I greeted you like our teacher, I could brighten your mood.”
Lynx wore a look as if he was thinking something nasty inside his head. He then ignored Isonos as usual, back to reading again, unsocial as ever. And yet, politics maneuver was supposed to be his strength.
Isonos leaned over to see what kind of book that Lynx was reading. It was one of the many books that Faugus has translated to Titan rune. A Titan translation of a famous book in Prince Fearless’ world telling a story of a monkey who managed to anger the gods ruling heaven, ocean, and hell, all at the same time.
“Do you know why the monkey was defeated and sealed beneath the Five Elementals Mountain?” asked Isonos.
“Buddha is too OP, as I recalled that His Highness said.” Lynx clicked his tongue as though being irritated and replied.
Isonos chuckled inwardly to avoid appearing as condescending to one of his peer and equal. This is why you should take none of teacher’s word at the face value. “No, the monkey had too much fun and ended up playing around too much. He played a war instead of fighting it. He’s smart and strong but too naïve. That’s why he was defeated,” rebuffed Isonos, “If he ended the fighting before Buddha arrived, he would win,” Isonos nodded his head lightly to Lynx as a gesture of farewell and rolled his wheelchair to a quiet corner of the Archive and continued his work there.
Among the projects that Prince Fearless has given to Isonos, the top priority was given to “Operation Sunken Isle,” a project to conquer Sunken Isle and employed it as a mobile base.
Sunken Isle was home to the Undying King, an old Titan who managed to outlive his life by moving his soul from one body to another. The Undying King managed to uncover the secret of transplanting and moving the soul from one body to another.
Sunken Isle was a large secret laboratory for creating golems and homunculi, a cross between a living organism and a golem. Meaning if Isonos could conquer this place, he could produce an army for Prince Fearless. However, Sunken Isle was much easier to conquer in the game than reality.
Sunken Isle was a mobile base. It never stayed at one place for too long. And most of the time, it stayed completely submerged in the Paredi Ocean that connected the Northern Continent and the Long Continent. Sunken Isle was a golem that had the appearance of a gargantuan sea turtle carrying a mountain on its back. For better or for worse, according to the intelligence provided by the Demon Lord Envy, Yasubotay has made the Undying King his Champion.
“You are aware of Yasubotay’s method more than most, right? Deal with him,” said Prince Fearless at the time when he gave the project to Isonos.
Isonos had a hard time to understand why this project was given to him and not Sasengun. Objectively, Sunken Isle could only be conquered through naval boarding. Sasengun was the Chief of Naval Warfare and she was a master at sea battle. In fact, in term of grudge, Sasengun’s hatred for Yasubotay triumphed Isonos’ personal vendetta. Therefore, the decision to give this project to Isonos must be a mistake. His strength was the sky battle. But then, the one who assigned this project to Isonos was none other than Prince Fearless himself.
There is no mistake in this decision. Isonos believed. Teacher does not make any mistake, with that belief, Isonos spent his free time focus on learning about naval warfare. When his study has pointed Isonos to the personnel that Prince Fearless intended to use for this operation, his wheelchair led Isonos to a submerged castle built with red corals.
An air bubble wrapped Isonos and his wheelchair as he entered the castle through the coral gates. Isonos kept rolling his wheelchair along the path that led to the throne room of the coral castle.
There on the throne of rainbow-colored corals laid the Vampire Queen. For a brief moment, Isonos thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He saw a flicker of disappointment on that waxen and demonic face of the Vampire Queen.
Cold inorganic eyes bore down on Isonos. “Why does that sex fiend send his servant to see me? Why doesn’t he meet me himself? Is he afraid?”
Isonos titled his head and then realized that the coral gates have opened to him because the Vampire Queen has thought that he was Prince Fearless who came to visit her in person. Well, that’s awkward, Isonos thought that Prince Fearless would probably say something like that if he got himself in such a situation.
Isonos was not sure how he should reply to the Vampire Queen. He thought he should warn her about the manner and language that she has used to address Prince Fearless. But then, she was one of Prince Fearless’ lovers and Isonos was but a subject of Prince Fearless. Then again, addressing Prince Fearless as “a sex fiend” in front of his loyal subject was too much.
This is really awkward, thought Isonos.
“His Highness did not plan this careless visit of mine. This humble subject has made a grave mistake and is lacking in manner. Please find it in your magnanimity and forgive this humble servant, Queen Acrẽa,” Isonos bent his body as best as he could while sitting on his wheelchair.
As though the Vampire Queen has mistaken Isonos’ display of etiquette for fear, she clicked her tongue, “Go back and call your master to come here. He still owes me an apology.”
Dull. Monstrously dull.
Isonos grieved that despite being a lover of Prince Fearless, there was no trace of intelligence and elegance to be found and polished inside the Vampire Queen. Isonos felt like crying inside, pairing his teacher with this dull creature who has nothing but an empty title was a heinous crime.
Isonos gazed at the tragedy in the eyes. This is like sticking an azure rose on a stinking pile of bird droppings. Of course, the azure rose was Prince Fearless. It was the greatest tragedy in the world. Prince Fearless, his teacher was like a statue of a celestial being carved out of charms and elegance but the dull creature before Isonos was the exact opposite in its inner makeup and appearance.
This has to be a crime against the world. Had it not for your power…
Isonos inadvertently shed tears in silence, hiding his scorn. That blasphemous foulness in female form with dead fish’s eyes gazed at Isonos as though convinced that her form terrified him to tears. Her serrated teeth grinning. But the Vampire Queen did not understand that there was nothing to be feared about her. Her grotesque living hair of burbling pallid lampreys terrified Isonos no more than the imagination that he might disappoint Prince Fearless in his quests and projects.
There was nothing more terrifying the imagination of Prince Fearless looking at Isonos with his emotionless mask, telling him, “It’s fine to fail. Sit back and watch. I will show you how it’s done.” There was nothing more terrifying than that, the thought that his teacher has expected Isonos to fail from the beginning. When Isonos could vividly imagine that scene, nothing in the world seemed terrifying anymore. And whenever Isonos had that visceral imagination, he could not help but wonder if Prince Fearless reminded himself of his worst fear in the same manner that Isonos did.
“Queen Acrẽa, forgive me for my insolence but how good are your vampires matching up against Yasubotay’s
Isonos has learned that
“You. Insolent fool. Who are you to doubt my minions?”
If the queen and progenitor of the vampires was like this, how are the minions any better? Isonos almost reminded the Vampire Queen that she was captured by Prince Fearless in the most effortless manner. His crooked beaks managed to stop his words coming out.
Isonos grew up listening to the myth of the Demon Lords from his father. Acrẽa has always been the least scary one for him. The First Vampire she was, a grotesque cross between a bloodsucking lamprey and a goddess. The cold lightless water without a sliver ray of sunlight was where she resided, where she could command her miracles in full while the sun was on. Her miracles lost their power in the radiance of the sun. However, when the sun sank at the horizon, in the darkness of the night, Acrẽa was just as terrifying as any Demon Lord. Her minions could surface from the watery depth, feasting on the flesh and blood of mortals. “Keep moving,” his father has told Isonos, “Follow the sun. Chase after the light.”
As a child, Isonos had no fear for the Vampire Queen. Growing up, he had no fear of her either. Now dead, could only exist only in dreamland, he did not fear her either. He felt disgusted while looking at her.
It is as you have said, teacher. Demon Lords are nothing but a bunch of clowns and a load of disappointment.