Sunlight glinted off the edge of Magebane as Aldric sparred with Brandon and Wynnala in the training yard. The prince had been practicing with his guards for nearly two months, practicing his form when fighting against two opponents simultaneously. The dagger in his offhand flashed up to knock away one of Wynnala’s strikes, and Magebane clashed against Brandon’s large axehead. The afternoon sun beat down on them as sweat glistened on their bodies. Brandon and Wynnala had removed their armor over an hour ago, and all three had also removed their tops. Aldric had regained most of the muscle he had lost during his disappearance, and his full strength was returning to him, but the numerous scars on his body were still his most striking feature now. Both Brandon and Wynnala were well-muscled and fit, as any knight should be, Brandon almost rivaling him in body. They all grunted and breathed heavily, the clanging of metal ringing out through the air like a discordant bell falling down a flight of uneven stairs.
“My prince,” a deep voice rang out from across the yard.
Aldric pulled back from his knights, holding a hand up to stop them, before turning to see Baris approaching.
“It is proper to refer to His Highness as such or, at the very least, my lord,” Wynnala declared, narrowing her eyes at the man.
“Baris never referred to me as such and I would expect his son to follow suit of his father,” Aldric chuckled.
The prince turned to see his new Broker standing on the far side of the yard, dressed more like he was attending a ball than visiting a training field. The tall, dark man wore a double-breasted waistcoat, his trousers tucked into knee-high, polished leather boots. His hair was a rich black, tied back between the set of ram-like horns that protruded from his forehead and curled around his head. They were deep gray at the base but faded to white at the points. His bright yellow eyes had an intelligence to them as they darted around like a wild cat, taking in as much information as they could at any given moment.
“Take a breath,” Aldric commanded his knights before making his way over to the Diergian man, “Jorhis, what information have you found me?”
“Quite a bit, my prince, but you are not going to like some,” The Beastman responded, “And some will require direct intervention from you.”
“That is not ideal,” Aldric muttered, “We are trying to keep knowledge of my ‘being alive’ limited while negotiations with Tetonia are still ongoing.”
“I am aware, my prince, but these are delicate matters you have me searching into for you.”
“I assumed as much. Tell me.”
“On the matter of your father’s condition, I was able to speak to the Temple of War about any Kastelian presence left in the country. While the Resturian faith is mostly focused on the war with Tetonia at the moment, their divine gifts being elevated on battlefields and such, one priest was able to tell me that in all likelihood, we would need to seek outside of Eldoria itself for any help from the magic god. On the matter of your brother, less is sure. I was able to track down a few who were able to remember someone passing through many years ago that matched your brother, however, they were mostly uncertain or unable to answer. I am fairly certain myself that he would have traveled the main roads to Tetonia given the size of the entourage he traveled with, but if he was attacked and escaped, he could have fled anywhere into the fields or forests. Finally, the men in the robes. Their description alone was not much to search for, but I was able to find some information about what they may have used. While Gifts are outlawed in Eldoria, there is still a black market for them obviously. Most people stay away from it, Gifts are too prominent and obvious for most people to use, and it is a very closely guarded secret, but a Broker knows all. I was not able to procure the item in question for you to verify it, but there is talk about a Dark Gift that can be used to trap people. They are extremely difficult to find and even more difficult to find someone to purchase it as they always require an entire life to power it, but they are supposed to be inescapable.”
“But I escaped one.”
“That is true, my prince, hence ‘supposed to be.’ You said you had the Gift-eater with you, yes?”
“Magebane? From what I can remember, I did.”
“I would imagine that was the reason for your unexpected absconsion.”
“Interesting. Any other information?”
“The priest of Restura I spoke to would like to meet with you. He knew your name despite me never giving it.”
“Also interesting.”
“My prince, a word of council?”
“Yes, Jorhis?”
“Do not do anything reckless.”
“And why would I do that?”
“I have seen the look in your eyes before. It is one of a man about to do something terribly reckless.”
“You are very perceptive, Johris,” Aldric said as he retrieved his shirt.
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Aldric stood near the edge of the road, staring at the temple of Restura across the square from him. He wore a cloak, the hood drawn over his head, Wynnala wearing a matching cloak as she stood behind him. The temple itself was a massive structure, with large arches and spires shooting up into the sky, looking like an enormous hand reaching upward. The stone was dark, with various markings and symbols painted along the walls in red, each noting a prayer from a follower. The doors were closed, two wooden giants the color of ash, polished brass handles gleaming in the afternoon sun that streaked between the buildings and houses around. A statue of Restura sat a short distance from the bottom of the stairs at the front of the temple, the image that of a large, muscular man holding a greatsword in one hand and a colossal warhammer in the other, raising them in a cry of victory as his long stone hair was frozen in the middle of the air as if some great wind threatened to blow it away.
Restura was one of the three gods of Kanabras that made up The Triune. Long before any of the races or even the beasts or monsters of the world were even a thought, The One Above created everything that ever was or will be before making his three children, The Triune, and recused himself to observe his creation from afar. The Triune each took on a domain in the world: Anella became the god of creation and growth, Restura became the god of destruction and war, and Kastelan became the god of magic. They each served a purpose, overseeing a fundamental piece of existence and keeping each other in check. They each had a multitude of demigods serving underneath them that made up their pantheon, each one taking a minor part of their godly patron’s domain as a part for them to watch over. This meant that while the gods themselves had complete control, they were not usually directly involved in mortal affairs in any way unless it was absolutely necessary for them to be involved.
Most temples were dedicated to one of The Triune directly, but some demigods received temples of their own, typically only the ones of notable deeds or ones that sat over important domains, like Jhotenal, whose domain was agriculture and served under Anella. As Aldric prepared to enter the temple of Restura, he felt a slight sense of unease. While none of the three gods could be simply divided into the categories of good or evil, most of the demigods in their pantheons were easier to assign intent to, and Restura was easily the god with the most demigods that no mortal ever hoped to encounter in any way. His pantheon included many domains associated with bloodshed, slaughter, and death.
The large wooden doors of the temple opened silently to reveal an immaculately clean interior. The ceilings were taller than even that of any of the largest rooms inside the castle, and Aldric’s boot steps echoed repeatedly as the sound bounced off the walls. Large windows of red stained glass decorated the sides, their sills filled with blood-red candles that burned with an off-putting black flame. The altar at the head of the room looked more like a sacrificial icon than that of a site of worship. Another statue stood behind the altar, this one even taller than the one outside, depicting a stoic-faced man looking down, a sword resting between his hands, held over the altar as if he were going to stab down in the massive slab of stone and split it in half. Kneeling before the altar was a figure wearing bright red robes, head bowed, arms outstretched towards the statue as he mumbled prayers.
“Priest Walthrun?” Aldric asked the man's back.
“What do you know of the realms beyond, Prince Aldric?” the priest asked him without turning around.
“Very little, I’m afraid. My education was a bit more formal,” Aldric responded, holding up a hand to stop Wynnala’s complaint as she formed it.
“Then I would imagine the name ‘The Burning Empires’ has no meaning to you?”
“It does not.”
The priest nodded before finally turning to face Aldric. He was an older man, his eyes sunken in slightly, and his skin would probably be considered pallid on a good day, yellowed and dry as it was. He had thin, white hair that barely clung to the edges of his scalp, exposing a large bald spot in the middle, and he wore a grim smile on his lips.
“I am Head Priest Walthrun, yes. I am glad that you have visited with me, but let us make our way to the back chamber. It will be more private there,” the elderly man said before leading them towards a door on the side of the room.
The back chamber was also fairly empty. It only held a small table and some chairs set around it, and a lantern hanging from the ceiling illuminated the windowless stone room. Walthrun motioned for them to sit before taking a chair on the opposite side of the table and pulling a handful of documents from inside his robe to lay them on the table.
“I may be able to assist you in two of your problems, but I will preamble my help with a request and a warning,” Walthrun said.
“This is an interesting start, priest,” Aldric chuckled.
“The request is simply that you tell no one of where you received the following information. The warning is this: The Bloodied King has taken notice of you, which is not always a good notice to receive.”
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“Is that not heresy, priest? To speak against your own god like that?”
“It is not heresy to warn a man that he has forces much greater than him keeping an eye on him, but now to the information you are here for.”
Walthrun shuffled through the papers in front of him before pulling out one that had a strange diagram on it, showing six spheres circling one larger one in the center.
“I shall give you a small lesson in the realms of the worlds,” Walthrun said before pointing at the largest sphere.
“This is Kanabras, the prime realm, our home of the various races as well as two more that are understood to have collided with our realm many hundreds of thousands of years ago. The realms of the fey and the undead that caused the forming of monsters and the supernatural creatures were those two realms, now a part of our own. It is believed that it was the fault of the first Gifted men who had the most powerful, but the most uncontrollable Gifts, but that is a story for another time. There are six realms that surround Kanabras, each one dealing directly with a certain facet of being, like death which sends the soul of a being into The Infinite Vales, or a certain species seen as too dangerous to be left on Kanabras or risk the destruction of the balance of all things. That is the true domain of The Triune, maintaining the balance of all things. Where things are created, they must be destroyed, and where they are destroyed, new things must be created. Magic is a means to facilitate both of things, but I am beside the point now. This is the realm I wish to speak to you about.”
Walthrun pointed to one of the spheres, which was noted with drawings of flames and shadowy figures.
“This is The Burning Empires. This is the realm of demons and devils. The very embodiment of evils made into hellish flesh. The Burning Empires themselves were originally a prison for such beings but have been transformed over the millenia to resemble a constant war of factions, which call themselves empires. Each empire is led by an archdemon or archdevil of some kind, leading an army of abominable spirits in a persistent bid for more control. I have spoken to The Dread Destroyer, Restura, and he has told me of his notice of you and when it began. It is my understanding that you have been to The Burning Empires. Realm travel is not impossible, but it would require the use of a powerful Gift to do so, especially into a realm that is a prison such as the Empires.”
“What if a person were to use an imprisonment Dark Gift for such a thing?” Aldric asked, heavily invested in the words of the priest.
“That could be possible, I imagine, but altering a Dark Gift in such a way would be an incredible feat of magical architecture,” the priest pondered.
“I was attacked before my alleged death and, from what I have been able to gather, had such a Dark Gift used on me. The man who activated it had the entirety of his blood consumed. What do you know of men in dark robes that carry such magics with them? They never spoke to me, I was not able to see their faces, and there were no distinguishing marks on them.”
“Well,” Walthrun stroked at his chin with his mangled fingers, “There are a number or groups that could match that description. Cults are prevalent throughout to beings that rule in The Burning Empires, seeking to help them reach this realm in a desperate bid for power of their own. This is how beings like demons can make it into our realm, though not common, as the Dark Gifts required to perform such a feat are few and far between and they are constantly being hunted for by various groups that seek to deny such cults their schemes.”
Aldric slumped in his chair, running his hands through his hair as he processed everything the priest told him.
“So I was attacked by a demonic cult of some sort and trapped inside of The Burning Empires, a separate realm from our own, where Restura took notice of me and now he seeks to use you to provide information to me because of it?” Aldric sighed.
“Essentially,” Walthrun agreed, “You would have been unaligned in the war of the Empires, meaning your only instincts would have driven you to kill anything and everything around you in a vigorous drive to slaughter every other being around you.”
Aldric felt the scars along his body begin to itch as faint images floated through his memory of the red sky and black lightning as he slashed his way through hordes of shadowed claws and teeth. He unsheathed Magebane and placed it on the table as Walthrun flinched back from it.
“It is my understanding that this was how I escaped from the imprisonment of the Dark Gift used,” Aldric said.
“The magic from that blade,” the priest mumbled.
“It is Magebane. It is an Artifact that can absorb the magic from Gifts,” Aldric continued, his brow furrowing at the awe in the priest’s eyes.
“It is much more than that,” Walthrun whispered a hint of near veneration in his voice, “I could not be certain without extensive study of it or a Gift to examine it with, but I am certain that this Artifact is the reason you broke free, yes. The ability to absorb magic is an incredible aspect of an Artifact since this would mean this sword has the ability to harm any monster or creature in any realm. You would have no need for specialized tools to kill an undead or devil with this as it would draw out the inherent nature of their existence and devour it.”
“I did not realize it was that formidable,” Aldric replied, a hint of awe in his voice now.
“I would imagine that if you had this weapon with you, you did not escape so much as you were thrown out in a hope to rid the Empires of the scourge of your wrath,” Walthrun chuckled.
“Do you have any more information about these cults that you can provide for me?” Aldric asked, moving away from the subject of the Empires as a headache was beginning to form in the back of his head.
“I’m afraid there is not much I could tell you. They are extremely secretive by nature,” the priest replied.
“Very well. You have my thanks for what you have given to me today anyway,” Aldric said, standing and resheathing Magebane.
“I wish you well in travels, Prince Aldric,” Walthrun said, also standing.
“I have no plans to travel, priest.”
“Of course.”
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Aldric paced the length of his room. It had been redecorated a few days after his arrival at the castle, but he had since removed most of them, returning the room to the bare state he enjoyed. His bed had simple bedding on it, and there was only his table and chair in the room. The fireplace was cleaner than he had ever seen, and he had not lit a fire yet to dirty it as the day's warm air wafted through his open window. Magebane lay in its sheath on the table as Aldric occasionally glanced at it before returning to his pacing. The words of the priest echoed in his head as his headache increased in intensity as he tried to push his memories down and focus on the problems he now faced. The possibility that the same cult had attacked his brother now held his focus and the idea that Cedric may have suffered the same fate as him. Cedric did not have his family's ancestral sword nor was he a warrior like Aldric, preferring the castle library to the training yard. It was more than unlikely that Cedric would survive in a place like that. Aldric looked down at his bare chest and the scars that covered his arms and chest and wondered how he had managed to survive a place such as The Burning Empires.
His skull ached, and a spike of pain shot through his brain as Aldric fell to his knees. Memories flashed before his eyes again as creatures lept towards him, tearing at his skin, his face, his eyes, anything they could ravage. Aldric roared his anger and fear, wildly swinging out at the shapes as he felt something grab his shoulder. He twisted his body, holding onto the arm and throwing the figure to the ground, his dagger at its throat in less than a second as another figure wrapped its arms around him, pulling him to the ground.
“Aldric!”
He was in his room. Wynnala lay on the ground, gasping as if her breath had been knocked from her body. Brandon held Aldric in a wrestling position, restraining his arms, one of which held his dagger.
“I am… You can let go of me,” Aldric sighed as his body suddenly felt heavy, as his arms fell limply to the ground.
“Apologizes, my lord,” Brandon said as he untangled himself with Aldric and helped him to his feet, “We heard you yelling and came in to find-”
“I understand,” Aldric said quietly, “You did your duty well. You may return to your positions.”
“With respect, my lord, I do not think we should,” Brandon replied, making no move to leave.
Aldric helped Wynnala off the floor and looked over her.
“Are you well? I did not hurt you?” Aldric asked.
“No, my lord,” she replied, “Only startled me.”
“Are you well, my lord?” Brandon asked.
“No, my knights,” Aldric said with a dry chuckle, “I suppose I am rather unwell.”
He slumped to the floor, leaning against the stone wall next to his bed and staring at the floor. His entire body felt sore and tired, his head still screaming in agony, as he felt a profound exhaustion set in.
“Nightmares haunt me even when I am awake,” Aldric muttered.
“I do not believe that we can help you with such a thing, my lord,” Wynnala said.
“No, I don’t believe you can either, but that matters not. I believe it is time I ask you something, my knights, and I will not respect you any less for whatever way you answer. Just know that regardless of what you decide, this question must not leave this room,” Aldric emphasized.
Brandon and Wynnala exchanged a worried glance between each other before turning back to Aldric.
“It will likely result in great injury and possible death. We will not have the luxuries that are available here in the castle and we will be on entirely our own. We will have two goals and it may result in the total failure of the negotiations with Tetonia and complete war again, but I must complete these two goals. Would you accompany me to discover what has become of my brother and to retrieve a priest of Kastelan?”
“If I may, my lord, I-” Brandon started.
“No, you may not,” Aldric interrupted him, “This is what I will do. You may come with me or not, as I said, I will think no less of either of you regardless of your answer.”
“I will go with you,” Wynnala stated.
“Then I will as well,” Brandon said after a pause.
“Very good. Prepare yourselves and anything you would take with you. We leave at the first possible chance,” Aldric said.
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The sun had set hours ago, and the sky was now a deep black as stars illuminated the void. Torches dotted the courtyard in front of the castle as guards stood their posts on the walls. Aldric watched them from his window, noting each of them and wondering what their lives would be like as he prepared himself to leave his home again. He hoped it would be sooner than eight years when he returned, but there was no promise of him returning. His mind then wandered to Erik and Nima, sitting in their small home in the woods with their two children. They had been unabashedly kind to him in the months he had stayed with them, and he still hoped to repay them someday, but now he must focus on Cedric. He was more determined than ever to find his brother after learning what fate may have befallen him. He was not sure what part, if any, the demonic cult had taken in his brother’s disappearance, but he would track down every member if he needed to find Cedric. Aldric’s eyes darted to the paper on his table; the ink barely dried on the page, a note that he knew would cause Liana to hate him.
“Next time, I am coming with you.”
That was what she had said to him the first day he returned and now he planned to leave her again. He knew she was vastly more important to his mother for running the kingdom than he was. His goal to find a priest of Kastelan and bring him back would hopefully relieve the pressure his mother was facing now, but if Liana left with him, he worried he would not come back to find his mother the same as when he left. He also hoped that he would be able to return with his brother, or at the very least, news of what happened to him to give his mother closure. That was all predicated on the notion that he made it home at all.
Aldric glanced back out the window and saw a handful of the torch lights go out along one side of the wall before a single one illuminated again and waved briefly. That was his cue. He ensured that Magebane was belted on properly before taking his pack onto his shoulder and entering the hallway. Despite not being in the keep for eight years, the guards still patrolled the same routes they always had as he slipped through each spot he knew they were blind to. He smiled as he remembered the times he and Liana snuck out together to swim in the sea or visit the glowbugs in the woods late at night. He reached the courtyard and followed the wall as he made his way to the stables, where he found Brandon and Wynnala standing beside three horses, already bridled and saddled.
“This is your last chance to stay,” Aldric said.
“No, it is not,” Wynnala replied.
Aldric nodded, his chest warming with the deep gratitude he felt for his knights as he threw his leg over the saddle of his horse.
“Then we ride for Tetonia.”