Chapter 46

Dura lex, sed lex

She had prepared herself for an excursion into the forest, with the cold of the night to keep her company. She had prepared herself for ferocious beasts and monsters, ready to feast on her flesh, in a carnival of slaughter. She had prepared herself for a silent infiltration, made before the eyes of their enemies and under their very noses.

And, indeed, everything she had prepared for turned out to be correct. The beasts, rune-bears, fiery locusts, eagles of death, now lay on the little path they had trodden, so quiet and peaceful that one could have mistaken their death for sweet slumber.

It was cold, yes. It was that barely imperceptible cold, from which it is easy to shelter but which sticks uncomfortably to the body. Antilene sighed, noticing that her breath immediately took on a gaseous, slightly blue form, like melted snow. She repeated that gesture a couple of times, before it grew tiresome.

"We shouldn't be here much longer, should we?" Her glove-covered hands rubbed continuously. Partly in search of warmth, partly to chase away an insufferable boredom. Rub, rub, rub, until the blackness that covered the fingers blurred the contours. "Of course, of all those I could have accompanied me, what a coincidence that you were the one chosen, wasn't it?"

Not at all, she would have gladly put her hand on the fire to prove it.

The man waiting beside her, Erya, yawned boredly. The typical reaction of someone who would rather spend his evening in the sweet embrace of blankets than in that godforsaken place. "Queen Kirke merely chose those who were best suited for the mission. No wonder then that the only representatives of the Theocracy saw the heaviest task fall on their shoulders. For an abomination, that creature does not sin in bad judgment."

It would have been interesting to see him repeat those exact words in front of his benefactress. Antilene had realized, in the short time she had interacted with him, that Erya was many things. But whether he was a coward or a fool was still the source of her indecision.

"Hum, maybe you're right. Are your companions fine in this weather? They seem a bit too... uncovered." The three elf slaves of Erya, who at this point might as well have called themselves extended appendages of the swordsman, huddled together, trying to absorb what little heat their practically naked bodies managed to convey. Not with great results. "Or they could use magic to feel the effects of the cold less, I suppose. That shouldn't be a problem for them, should it?"

Erya feigned a motion of surprise. "Queen Fouche," he was the only one who did not call Antilene by her first name, no matter how much she tried to correct him, "I am surprised at you. Are you not a fine strategist? Consuming mana for such nonsense... it would really be counterproductive to our mission."

Antilene thought that for someone so full of himself, Erya was far too prone to rely on the abilities of others. "Perhaps you are right." One of the elves was on the verge of saying something, but stopped before a sound could escape her throat. "Is that perhaps why you did not help me during the fight? Did you think it wiser to conserve your energy?"

The half-elf did not look at the man; her attention was entirely on the corpse of a giant, goat-legged faun that now lay at her feet. Charon's Guidance was embedded squarely in its head, and its central blade gushed with greenish blood. Antilene pulled it out slowly, almost as if she was preserving the safety of the now lifeless creature. The blood slid from the tip to the pommel of the scythe, reaching up to touch her fingers. It was warm.

Erya's agitation was obvious, no matter how hard he tried to still appear confident. "I just felt this was the most prudent course of action. Some Immortals are defending the city, and when the situation gets tough -because I have no doubt combat will be unavoidable- I will need every resource I have to protect you." Had only his side of the story been heard, one might have come to regard him as a spotless and fearless hero, ready to lay down his life in sacrifice to save the princess. But it would have been, at the same time, sufficient to observe the drops of sweat that began to drip from his forehead to attach a whole other meaning to what he said. "My lady, I must admit it. You are an excellent fighter. Nevertheless I advise you not to exert yourself too much further, as you will certainly be very fatigued."

Antilene, who now finally felt his body begin to awaken from drowsiness, pointed Charon's Guidance at him. "Oh, I thank you. A truly gentlemanly comment, but I can assure you there is no need for it. In any case, knowing that someone is prepared to sacrifice themselves for me makes me immensely happy." The length of the scythe abundantly filled the space between them. A weapon like that, in the Theocracy of Slaine, was an omen of a grim future. What Erya saw reflected in the silver sheen of the blades was a source of endless questions for the half-elf. "Should any other beast show itself, I will gladly leave it to your sword." Would an apostate have changed their mind once they knew of Charon's Guidance's origin? Antilene entertained the idea of spilling the secret, just to test his astonishment.

Erya stepped back, as if trying to recover some of the air that had been sheared off by the scythe itself. "Of course… My lady." He looked at his three slaves who, unlike him, had remained at their original positions. From his point of view, that had to be an unforgivable affront; it did not matter that it was terror that had paralyzed them. His hand slowly descended upon the sword carried in his sheath -Delfina- and it was easy to imagine what would follow if it were just the four of them. "During my wanderings I learned a trick or two to deal with the widest variety of enemies possible. I only regret that I didn't get a chance to show you something truly exceptional."

"Very unfortunate," retorted Antilene, placing Charon's Guidance back into the infinite sack. Still, the distance between them had become unbridgeable at that point. "I have an idea. Why don't we take a tour around here and see if any beings have managed to escape? We might get lucky, right? Ahhh... a sheltered girl like me can't even comprehend what a valiant warrior like you is capable of." The half-elf's shoulders tightened as her head slowly shook.

"Should another beast appear…" Erya's lips moved hesitantly, while the rest of his face maintained a proud expression. "I believe the pungent smell of blood will make that improbable. Unless we're talking about beings definitely out of the ordinary, like the lords of the Tob Forest, a carnage of this dimension should be repellent enough for any creature." He began to soothe himself, aware of the reasonableness of his argument. "But if an enemy of such caliber were to come forward," Delfina blurted out, pointing to the void. The non-existing enemy already slain in his fantasy. "He will taste defeat for the first time!"

Above them, hidden among the trees, a flock of crows -the only animals that still dared to remain in that dark forest- performed an infernal cawing.

Antilene stood there staring at Erya, counting how long it would take him to look away. Three seconds, a small achievement, greater however than most could manage.

The half-elf stretched, emitting a resounding yawn. The three elves continued to stare at her, as if mesmerized by such noise. One of them, with long red hair, hesitantly approached.

"Um," her voice was thin as a thread. She cast a sidelong glance at Erya, who was not paying her much attention, intent instead on being lost in the sharpening of his blade with a whetstone imbued with magic. "May I ask something?"

"Go ahead," Antilene urged her. She smiled softly at the elf, to let her know that she would have nothing to fear as long as she was in her presence.

"You have become the new queen of Evasha, have you not? Does that mean you have slain the immortal king?"

"With these very hands of mine." Just remembering that moment caused Antilene to feel a sensation that straddled the line between irrepressible joy and uncontrolled euphoria. There was also something else. A missing piece that did not make the mosaic perfect, but which stood out with intolerable insolence in her vision. "I still have his blood bathing my face and his squeals repeating like sweet music in my ears. My only regret is that I was not able to crystallize that moment into something eternal, so that I could admire it again like a precious jewel, whenever I felt like it."

The elf retreated, starting to look even smaller and slenderer. "And how did you feel?" She asked, with a certain naivety that barely suppressed a murkier feeling. "The moment you saw him die, did you think it was worth it? Did you achieve happiness in the end?"

Antilene answered sincerely. "I wouldn't say that. My life did not change overnight, nor did who I was undergo any strange changes. The me who got up that morning saw no change from the me who went to bed that night." Erya was approaching them at that point. Perhaps intrigued, perhaps something worse. He did not, in any case, attempt to intrude. "But... if you had to ask me if I'd do it again I'd tell you I'd do it once, ten, a hundred times over. Revenge doesn't make you necessarily in the right, but that's not why it's done. It serves to restore a balance that had been broken, impossible to return to its original wholeness. Justice always finds a way to implement itself, not always in conventional and entirely peaceful ways. To be an instrument of something superior, that is what is additive."

Entire textbooks could have been filled with that question, but Antilene was the type to leave such philosophical discourses, however fascinating she found them, to more exacting minds.

What she felt was hers and hers alone, and would not allow strangers to define it. This, of course, would still not prevent it from being shared with others.

The elf closed in even more herself, like a hunted animal. "So…" She did not complete the sentence, infected by a poison that now had contaminated her. So intoxicating, so inebriating.

"My lady, I hope my servant has not inconvenienced you," Erya licked his lips, as if the sweetest taste could have been placed on those rosy excrescences. He looked at the elf, and then looked at Antilene, but it was evident that there was no differentiation between the two in his gaze. "You must be tired, perhaps rest is what you need, not idle chatter."

Antilene's face remained hard as stone. "It wasn't any…" She was on the verge of retorting, when a meandering voice made its way into her thoughts. It was a『Message』connected directly to her synapses; the communication was opened with a quick breeze and what there was to report was conveyed without nuance.

"Yes... yes... we are coming," repeated the half-elf loudly, so that all could hear her. "Shutting down the connection." Her attention turned to Erya. "The way is clear, we can go."

Antilene did not wait for her reply, who had already turned and walked towards a deeper part of the forest. Certain that the swordsman and his slaves were following her, she did not look back even once, being able to perceive their movements in those shadows that wriggled and twisted among branches and roots, converting on nature itself and concealing their steps with little discretion.

It took a few minutes, which were comparable to long hours of waiting, before they arrived where they were wanted. Melina and Agravaine were near the entrance to a small tunnel, connected to a river of yellowish water that split the path in half.

It was her sister who was the first to offer them a greeting, despite the short time they had been separated.

"My Queen, are you hurt? You dealt with the monsters very quickly. Not that we had any doubts," she said. Her long black hair had been cut short, not even touching the shoulders. There was a foul smell in the air, which not even the fine perfumes the elf used to rub on her skin could completely cover. In fact, that mixture made the air even more unbreathable. "Need something? Speak, and it will be provided to you."

It was more circumstance than anything else that motivated that futile question. Agravaine of all people would have been stunned if the opposite had come true. When Antilene reassured her with a nod, she could see that her sister's attention was already turned towards Erya, and the three who were hiding shyly behind him.

As inclement as it was, Antilene could not help but consider that scene disgusting in its lameness. Perhaps it was because it brought back a memory of an equally loaded character of weakness. A fragility that had molded her into what she was today, but which did not seem to be able to replicate the same effects on others in situations that were not necessarily pleasant.

"Is this the secret passage indicated by the Queen?" Impressing her was difficult, that had to be admitted. When one succeeded, however, it was always in the negative, as in this case. "A sewer? Now I understand why nobody dared to venture into this place before."

Already, just by taking a quick glance at the entrance, rows of slime intent on devouring the dirt and whatever else was unclean and ugly from that burrow could be seen, giving reason to an existence that would otherwise only be aberrant. Some insects, in their stupidity, were caught in the formless boulders and quickly consumed, until nothing of them remained, making doubts arise that they had been in that place from the beginning.

Melina stepped forward, bowing her head slightly. "Sir Niles and his unit have already set out. Once inside, they will begin to make contact with some informants waiting for us inside the city." The minotaur's monumental body in that confined space had certainly suffered from a lack of mobility. It was not a gentle reaction, nor was it meant to be, but Antilene could not help but externalize a small laugh at the scene that was becoming vivid before her eyes. "Some nobles who are still loyal to the prince are waiting for the signal, with their troops in position. There are not many, but any help will be welcome. If you are ready, we can reach them at this very moment."

They nodded in silence, leaving Melina the arduous task of leading the way. If the smell had been unbearable before, now that they were getting deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels and slimes, the stench rose to the ceiling with particular intensity, leaving little chance to inhale clean air at the top of their lungs.

On a positive note, as if to counteract that torture to the nostrils, the floors were kept incredibly clean and tidy by the guests who lived there. Even the drain that connected the river with who knows what part of the upper part of Karnasus was much clearer than one might have expected. From the ceiling, small drops fell at almost regular intervals, a sign that the pipes would benefit from a little check-up. Unfortunately, in wartime, as in peacetime after all, it was never easy to find a good plumber.

The group walked in single file, too little space to allow them another line-up. Sometimes the corridors widened slightly, allowing a little extra mobility, but this was promptly snatched away before they could even get used to it.

"It will take more than one bath to get this stench off. I am reminded of a similar incident I had the pleasure of solving a few years earlier." It had to be admitted that Erya, more than anyone else, felt comfortable in that place. Beneath the sequins and delicate skin, the heart of a mercenary and adventurer beat strongly. A soldier who was not afraid to get dirty with mud and dung, if it would accomplish the mission he had been given. "I was in the service of a nobleman of the Empire. A marquis, all medals and armor. A typical example of a blowhard who spends more time smoothing his mustache than sharpening the blade of his sword."

No one urged him to continue, but no one signaled him to stop either. It was enough to spur Enya to carry on narrating his anecdote. Antilene perked up her ears, curious and ready to determine whether it would be possible to re-evaluate an opinion that had perhaps become granitic too quickly.

"They had problems with some toadmen. Nasty little beasts. Usually the imperial knights are enough to fend them off, but this time the attacks became more treacherous. A special unit was hastily assembled, with me and other workers teams as the spearhead. The taxes of the empire were not wasted to ensure security, this must be admitted."

"I met several toadmen. Some valiantly defended the Union during the span of the Equestrian King's first invasions," said Melina, who was otherwise happy to keep her focus on her current task.

Erya cleared his throat. "Of course. No one doubts that." One of the elves stumbled, brushing against a puddle. The Theocracy swordsman stopped and checked that nothing had gone out of place, then resumed as if nothing had happened. "What was I saying? Ah, yes. Toadmen. The bastards... The proud enemies I faced that time had gotten smart. They had trained an experienced ranger corps, and had some beasts to ride that allowed them quick and quiet raids. A kind of giant insect, but with fewer legs and more fur. Truly despicable. Luckily, fire was their weakness. Once discovered, it was easy to drive their ranks wild. "

They reached a fork, from which three large exits could be entered. "This way," Melina pointed to the right, continuing to maintain her lead position. The space began to widen, making the passage more comfortable. Even the air began to become less thin and more pleasant.

"You were saying, Ser Erya?" Antilene, partly to fight boredom, partly because she hated stories without endings, urged her countryman to resume what he was saying.

The latter, if he had been pleased with the remark, carefully tried not to show it, clearing his throat, he let one of his servants hand him some water contained in a small glass bottle. "For days, but what I say, for weeks, I ventured into poisonous swamps and monstrosity-infested rivers in search of the enemy. One of the elves I had with me did not make it, as poison and other untoward effects accumulated with too much speed and insistence. A pity, but such is life."

One of the elves, the same one who had earlier addressed Antilene, looked away, as if the mere mention of those events had dug an open wound in her chest.

Agravaine remained impassive, her face a mask of diaphanous wax. She exchanged a shifty glance with Antilene, who sighed in reply.

"In any case," Erya continued, oblivious. "When we found them, many were the precautions we had to use to counteract the miasmas rising from the swamp. It is said that a couple of witches made that area their refuge, and I have no difficulty believing it. I could swear I heard devilish whispers as the work was done. Many men were lost that day…" He paused with the narration, almost as if he were praying for those broken lives. "But in the end, as it should be, not a single one of the toadmen remained survivor. For every imperial knight lost, tenfold was the vengeance we inflicted on them. Their leader mumbled something about survival and mercy, but severed heads, it is known, cannot beg. I earned a lot of gold from that venture... which allowed me to recoup my losses."

Of the three slaves, one of them froze, but not from the cold. It was something far more unpleasant that had caused her to lose what little composure she had left.

"It was very interesting," Antilene said, wrinkling her nose. "Why did you wish to share this memory with us?"

"For comfort," Erya's lips carved a satisfied smile on his face. "Already once I have faced a feat in unpleasant places. And I can say that I emerged victorious. And many other situations I have encountered were similar to this one. I do not pretend to be aware of what you are feeling, but I want to be blunt in letting you know that there is nothing to fear. Not as long as you are by my side."

In his own way, there was a certain gentleness that shone through what he spoke. Mixed with perhaps too high an opinion of himself, there was no doubt. But Antilene was well aware that modesty was the virtue of modest people.

A few minutes of quiet followed, even given the unhurriedness of their gait. By now, midnight was approaching, and the night would soon guide their venture into the city.

The sewers grew more spacious with each passing moment, as did the presence of the creatures that haunted those places. A brood of baby rats feasted on some now decayed remains of flesh that had lost its freshness by only the Gods knew how much. One of them, noticing the unexpected visitors, approached after finishing with the meal.

"What is it, little one, are you lost?" Antilene tenderly lifted it up by the tail when she became aware of its presence. "Why are you looking at me like this?"

The little rat began to squirm when it was no longer in contact on the ground, until it focused on Antilene. Just seeing the half-elf calmed him completely, were it not for a tremor that began to run through the tiny body and the absolute horror that gushed from his eyes.

Antilene tried to caress him, only to see her forefinger bitten off. There was a crack, but no pain followed. Not for the half-elf, at least. The rat fell to the ground, its jaw completely shattered, blood spilling from its mouth in droves.

"Ahhh it's always like this. That's why I hate animals. They are so fragile," the half-elf complained. Displeasure was felt at seeing the scene, but it passed as quickly as it had come. "And, often, too prone to terror. They usually run away, but this little mouse must have felt trapped.I mistook its fear for tranquility." There was a note of sadness in her voice. And regret.

Her sister, in response, cast a『Heal』on her bitten finger. "Did you feel anything strange? We don't know if some of these creatures have developed some particular mutation." Agravaine was slightly apprehensive, but hers was a spontaneous reaction, which was soon suppressed by the realization of who was the object of her concerns.

"I thank you for your thoughtfulness. But as you can clearly see, the skin has not even been scratched. Nor did the sign of any poison remain." And if such an insignificant creature had been able to cause permanent effects on her body, Antilene would have been happy to concede victory. "Put an end to your worries, then. I have encountered creatures and beasts of all kinds, and none have ever surprised me to such an extent that I considered myself in danger."

When Antilene was still part of the Black Scriptures, there had been a training session she took part in, not actively, just as a spectator. Quaiesse's basilisks had been traumatized by her mere presence and, as Clementine had reported, not without some satisfaction and admiration, it had taken her brother weeks just to return them to their former ferocity.

"I've been blown away for days on end," that had been the only occasion on which Windstride had made the slightest kind and sincere gesture to her, Antilene recalled. Evidently, the contempt she felt for Quaiesse was greater than the awe she felt for the half-elf.

"Just thinking about my brother's face set like a mannequin just so as not to offend you..." She said, not without letting slip a few unflattering comments about her twin. "...Fearing that your wrath might come down on him at any moment. Oh, joy and delight."

Antilene had merely smiled and replied, "I hope the basilisks recover quickly." Then she had shelved the question, not giving it much thought. More than anything, it was Clementine's gaze that had left her intrigued. It was the same as she had done during the baptism of blood.

Sweet Clementine, one wondered what she was doing at that moment. Most of all, Antilene hoped she was doing the Black Scripture's name proud.

In any case, animals tended to behave that way with her. If Antilene had wanted a pet, it would have been wise to fall back on far braver breeds. She could have asked the forest lord of Evasha for a baby dragon, but the work to train it would have been far too much, and so the half-elf desisted from the idea.

"We have arrived." Melina turned her thoughts away from that nonsense, focusing her attention on a large barred iron door in a secluded corridor quite far from the main paths. "Just where it was indicated." She slipped a key into the lock and pushed hard. It didn't take long, and a little hiss gave the go-ahead. "Are you ready?"

Antilene, who did not consider herself a vain person, adjusted the chain mail under her jacket, which hung slightly towards the right side of her arm. It was a simple chainmail, enchanted to withstand fatigue and the most superficial cuts. Otherwise, it was sorely lacking, especially compared to the very different protection she was used to.

"Yes."

To kill, one had to be flawless, to show one last courtesy to those who would soon be alive no more.

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It was dark, of course. Given the hour, only a few torches strategically placed at the corners of the deepest streets of that city maze provided enough illumination to avoid sharpening one's eyesight. Not too much.

The secret passageway led into a small outhouse on the far eastern edge of the city of Karnasus. From there, the royal palace, located at the highest part of the citadel, was clearly visible. Few people were still roaming the streets, most gathered in the still noisy taverns or in the cozier hearths of their homes.

There were guards, many. More than they had hoped for but not as many as they had anticipated.

"Follow me," Melina had a map, which she consulted with a methodical promptness. "Our contact is waiting for us nearby." To avoid surveillance, they carefully traversed only the less busy and infamous streets. In truth, even those were well cleaned and the few beggars present dozed blissfully on the corners, avoiding disturbing them. They had warm blankets with them, and it was natural to wonder whether that had been a surviving legacy of the previous prince, or a sign of welcome from the new masters.

Otherwise, there was little news. The Queen of Ris had given them some medallions, imbued with a magic that made it difficult for even the most experienced rangers to notice. Only one guard, a piercing-eyed centaur, had asked a few questions when he had come across them by pure chance.

He was the type to start calling his comrades before even being given answers. The half-elf replied in her own way, snapping his neck as a letter of introduction. It was sufficient credentials, she judged. If he had any complaints at all, the unfortunate fellow would unfortunately have to wait some time before he could address them. The queue for hell was longer than the stairway to heaven. They could have met halfway.

"Wait here a moment." Antilene took the body, careful that no one saw it, and took a small leap towards the roof of a nearby house. She left it there, without giving a second glance. By the time they would find him, the conflict would be well and truly over.

"Perhaps we should have found a more suitable place," Melina said. Her impassive restraint showed little signs of apprehension. "If someone were to notice, there could be trouble."

Antilene did not share those concerns, though she understood them. "You have nothing to worry about. The tenants of that house were in the arms of the lord of dreams, and they wouldn't have woken up even if the Dragon Emperor himself had knocked on their doors. And I placed the corpse in a spot where the lighting was not just poor, but totally absent. Before the sun makes it possible to have a clear idea that something is there, we will already be finished with our mission."

"I suppose we cannot do otherwise." The knight declared herself defeated, but wasted no time in regretting that misfortune; she was already on the march, running in the streets as if they were her own.

"What if no one finds it?" Agravaine asked, glancing carefully at the map. "Will we think about giving the soldier a decent burial once the mission is accomplished?"

Clement Agravaine; the appellation of saint would not have been out of place, such was her compassion. A heart so resplendent that at times it could induce the impression that it was made of gold, the heart pumping blood through her veins.

"I believe it is common practice in the East to leave bodies outside so that vultures can feed on them. It's a form of sacredness," the ritual also involved the bodies being skinned so that the entrails were in plain sight, but Antilene avoided mentioning this. "He'll be fine, don't give it too much thought." Enough for as long as a dead man could be, at least.

Her sister did not look convinced, but nodded resignedly. "I'll try to remember that." Her eyes were downcast, and her voice was faint.

'Maybe it would have been better to leave her behind,' Antilene thought. 'I don't think she was made for tasks like this.' The half-elf did not externalize these broodings of hers, merely remaining quiet.

It was not long before they arrived at a small, unassuming and inconspicuous dwelling, which blended in with ease among its peers.

Melina knocked on the door, with three light touches. When the door opened, two small, brown, beady eyes could be glimpsed. A pointed beak peeped out from the slit. "Who are you?" The voice was full of suspicion, but at the same time a small inflection could be detected... a little naturalness that suggested that this was just the script of an act that had already been written.

"The stars whisper to the moon and say 'Hello, Teacher'."

The door closed again after Melina had reported that sentence. Then, without giving the opportunity to wait, the sound of a bolt being turned was heard, leaving the lock free. "Enter." Opening the door was a bird-like demi-human covered in cobalt blue feathers. He wore only a spacious tunic, which gave ample space for the wings that replaced his arms.

When everyone had entered the small dwelling, he gave one last circumspect glance at the street, until the door was slowly closed again.

The demihuman seated them in a small living room, not spacious enough for everyone. The three elves remained outside to wait, in a small adjoining hall.

"Are you the first ones here?" The pointed and long beak opened and closed just as easily as a human mouth. "You are not enough."

"Others have set off to other areas, to fulfill other tasks," Melina looked around, letting her sword rest just in front of the host. "You shouldn't care about that, Darkol. I can assure you that our number will not be a cause for concern. The Queen has given you a specific mission, have you been able to accomplish it?"

The birdman opened a small cupboard, where something resembling noodles rested on a plate. He divided it into small portions, which were then handed to them. Only then did Antilene realize that what was inside the bowls were small worms. Still alive, at that.

"We thank you for your hospitality," Melina, as well as Agravaine and the three elves, had no trouble enjoying that dish, if it could be called that. Even Erya, wavering, was giving a taste. Only Antilene remained dry-mouthed.

"The elf is not hungry?"

"I'm afraid my stomach is full. But I am grateful for your generosity nonetheless."

The demi-human looked at her carefully, shaking his head. "If you say so. They have been marinated in special sauces, which enhance their crunchiness without losing their original flavor. I added some spices that gave them a strong, aromatic aftertaste. A typical Karnasus delicacy."

"They are indeed exquisite." And the worst thing was that Agravaine sounded completely sincere. The differences between Antilene and the other members of the company were becoming more and more obvious.

Darkol thanked her. The way he moved was peculiar. There was a certain distrust... but lacking in naturalness. It was artificial, the result of many rehearsals. But Antilene's inquisitor skill,『Lies' Detection』, activated at that very moment, detected nothing, so it was unlikely he was lying to them. For another part, no-one ever lied, for the unconscious escaped total control, and so that made him all the more suspicious.

"We didn't come here to talk about Darkol cuisine." Melina had quickly brushed off the offer, leaving only an empty bowl on the table. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Time is fleeting."

The demi-human sighed, some of the feathers on his head moving slightly with him. "The western gate is clear, just a few sentries of circumstance. It would be perfect to get the troops through there." A pause. This, too, seemed planned. "That's what I would have told you this morning. Before General Chazos arrived here with his army. At least five thousand soldiers now wait outside the city. I do not know who warned them, but they know of your presence."

"I see." Melina smoothed her chin. "Beppo Allo got here earlier than we expected. That complicates things."

"What do we do?" Antilene asked. Five thousand did not seem like such a terrifying number, but using herself as a yardstick was not always the wisest choice. "I could take care of it if you want."

Darkol laughed. Finally, a genuine reaction. "If you intend to die, go ahead. Beppo Allo's force is the best trained in the Union, now that Prince Alexander is no longer here among us. And they will be able to count on the support of the Immortals."

Antilene decided to ignore that little lack of trust. It was a natural reaction, no reason to resent it. "Our informant told us that two of them are here to administer the city. Is that true?" Tiribazus had shown a long tongue, once it had been pulled not too gently at him. The half-elf appreciated those who were easy to talk to, especially if they were not on her side. A quality appreciable in enemies, and hated in friends.

"The prince's palace is currently occupied by two of them, yes." Darkol replied. His eyes shifted to Antilene and, for a second that seemed longer than normal, remained fixed and perceptive. "The Dragon's Jaws and the Forest's Horns. One of the satraps was also there, but he abandoned the city a few weeks ago."

"Ah, the coward!" An unsolicited comment came out of Erya's mouth. "A caution to be appreciated, despite the fact that I find it difficult to be pleased with this development. Delfina is bloodthirsty, and I do not know if the offer I can give it will be sufficient. It will be those who call themselves immortal who will be sacrificed as a gift, in this case. Immortals - will they live up to their name? Or will an empty title be all they can claim?"

The demi-human's beak contracted into a grimace. Some might have said the offense had been ill-received by him. Some of bad faith. Others, like Antilene, would have understood that his was a natural reaction to what was arrogance and pride. But was all this wrong?

"I would be careful if I were you, human. The Immortals command the chosen troops of the Equestrian King. Forged in blood and covered in orichalcum and adamantium, war was their teacher and conflict their preceptor. When the siege was over, and the city was overrun, Prince Alexander's best friend and first sword of Karnasus challenged the Dragon's Jaws to a duel. The Brave, he was called. The Brave. Brave and stupid."

"I am only one of two things," Erya replied, annoyed yet amused. "In the end, I will let you choose which one. And when that time comes…" He did not finish the sentence, letting his all too friendly smile be threat enough.

"So The Brave is really dead?" Melina lowered her gaze. A mourning that could only last a few seconds, and even those would be too many. "Did he fight valiantly, at least?"

Valor. Would valor have made his departure any sweeter?

"That I cannot know." Darkol made himself small, as if the very subject was a source of discomfort and dishonor to him. "I was not there when it happened, hiding like a rat in this house. I know he fell in the square of the Black Blade, the same place where the Dark Knight is said to have mourned his beloved, slain by the Demon King. Humpf…" He snorted… With a certain smugness? "Evil tongues have insinuated that Prince Alexander did not honor his heritage, running away like a coward and leaving the one he loved to die."

"Whether his death meant anything is not for us to decide." Said Melina. The regret was already gone, as fast as it had come. "The living are the ones who should be in our thoughts now. Darkol, what do you advise us to do? The original plan was to let our troops in quietly, once the gates had been opened and the sentries disposed of. But as soon as they move, General Chazos will pounce on them like lightning."

"I don't think there are many alternatives left at the moment." Resignation was to be expected in Darkol. Much was to be expected... "You should split up, though there are already too few of you. Open the gates, and head to the royal palace. If you could eliminate the Immortals and strengthen your positions, you might be able to hold out enough in the high citadel." He paused for a moment, bringing one of the worms still crawling in Antilene's dish to his mouth. "But this is frankly an almost impossible plan. If you had taken the palace and surrounded the citadel in advance, you might have succeeded. Considering how many centaurs hold the city, you are seriously outnumbered. At this point... You are still in time to retreat. That would be wise."

Wisdom, a word that held an all too seductive comfort.

"No…" Melina looked at everyone present, starting with Agravaine and Erya, passing through Darkol, and ending with Antilene. When her gaze met with the half-elf, she announced decisively, "We will do as you advise. Agravaine and I will go to meet Sir Niles and his men, to help them open the gates. Erya and the elves, with Antilene's support, will eliminate the Immortals."

"I couldn't have asked for better," Erya was already standing on the threshold with the three elves at his side. "I will bring the heads of the Immortals as a gift. Don't worry, I'll be careful to let them not move much once they're detached from their necks. That is if their title is true, and their eyes do not close like everyone else's."

"Dorkal, thank you for everything. If it is the will of the Gods, I will see you at the end of this." Melina also rose from the table, and Agravaine and Antilene soon followed her.

"Don't thank me, I'm sending you to your deaths, aren't I?" The demi-human did not even look at their faces. "... I did everything I could to save you. Remember this, at least."

Melina smiled sweetly at him. "Of course. We will remember." There was a note of melancholy. "Goodbye."

When they were outside, the moon was beginning to set in the deep night.

"Then, we will go. Take care." Said Agravaine. Antilene could not help but notice concern in her greeting. "My Queen, please be careful."

"As always." Antilene took one last look at her sister and Melina walking away. "You go ahead," she instructed Erya. "I forgot something in Dorkal's house. I'll catch up with you in a moment."

The swordsman did not let that be repeated twice. "Just pray it's not all over when you get there." And without adding anything else, he moved into the darkness with his slaves.

Left alone, Antilene did what needed to be done. 'It begins,' glancing quickly at the stars that shone lazily in the sky, the half-elf called forth an oath. It was a night, like many others, when peace demanded not to be disturbed and sleep was the undisputed lord of that realm.

She re-entered the house by herself, just for the blink of an eye, and went out no longer alone.

----------------------------------------

The citadel was so called, but it was no more than a tall palace surrounded by thick walls. The white marble of the structure shone in the darkness of the night, cascading like a shower of pearls over the highest part of Karnasus.

There were guards on those walls. There were guards, and then there were no more. During an infiltration, Antilene had realized that there were two alternatives. The most capable assassins were shadows slipping through the cracks of careful and capable sentinels, who made distraction and uncertainty their ally. Skills honed in silence and whispers, which required specific magical abilities to counteract. Death veterans, Surshana's heralds. Heaven and Earth, of the Black Scriptures, had taken these abilities to the extreme, merging into the very darkness that became his dwelling home.

For her part, the half-elf, though she had some smattering in the art of assassination, was far more adept in the second way. If no one was left to raise the alarm, was it not the same as not being noticed by anyone?

"There were not only centaurs," Erya had commented, resting his sword in its scabbard. Not a drop of blood had soiled the blade, which continued to shine as if it had just come out of the forge. "Evidently, many of these guards have passed to the enemy from their original master. Scum always remains scum, no matter what you call them."

For those used to the great plains, the rocky terrain of the walls must not have been entirely comfortable. It was no wonder, then, that the labor used was preferably of a very different caliber.

"Who are you?" One of the half-horsemen, probably commander of that unit, found no explanation for his question. Of the elves, it was a girl with dark hair and a sorrowful smile that slit his neck with a small knife, seeking desperate approval from her master. Approval that never came.

"Let's go." Antilene's hands were free of dirt or other filth. The half-elf took one last look behind her, feeling the blood pooling on her fingers. Plock. Plock. Drop by drop. Though her whole body remained clean. Though the whiteness of her skin was unaffected. "I want to finish as soon as possible."

An elf with skin as pale as the moon shining in the sky lay at her feet. He was old, and his death could not have been called a waste. He was still clutching the spear with which he had, foolishly, attempted to strike her. He had not even realized that his last moments had been taken from him, and that the end had come inexorably. So there was peace in his eyes. A luxury that not many were granted. Like him, many others. Like him, more would follow. A number, no more, no less.

"Wasting time with this rubbish is humiliating. Where are the Immortals that are so extolled? Have they lost their courage?" Erya's palate knew only one taste: that of glory and riches. And the more they were taken away from him, the more his hunger grew. Hesitation was a doubt that did not befit one who had attained enlightenment. "At this rate, nothing more will remain to be extolled. If no one witnesses our exploits, who will be able to celebrate our greatness?"

They had penetrated the right wing of the palace, infiltrating a closely guarded keep. Guarded by corpses, for these remained at the end. Their arrival had now been foretold, if not by the noise, by the impregnating stench of death. That smell that not even a thousand baths would have dispersed; that not even magic would have eliminated. So pleasant, so disgusting.

They descended endless stairs, paying attention to the smallest noise. Traps had been set at the sides of the tower's main entrance. One of the elves warned of their presence. To disarm them would have taken too long, so Antilene's decision was obvious.

The flames that shot out when his foot landed on the floor were hellish. Hot and burning, yet for the half-elf it was nothing more than a gust of wind just a little warmer than usual.

"Humpf," she dislodged a little dust that had accumulated on the chain mail. "Are they finished? Getting dirty isn't a problem, but I'm not a big fan of extremely high temperatures."

The elf looked at her first incredulously, then with a flicker of something even she didn't believe -or hope- was still in her. The dirty blond hair on the forehead was shifted, revealing a look that was now vague, now bright. "Yes, there are no more." She replied, with a barely sketched smile. Yet there it was.

Erya remained silent, but did not utter a word. Actually, he only said something, through clenched teeth. "Nonsense." A star could not allow anything to shine brighter than it, especially if it was pure, unadulterated darkness.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

They walked a few more meters before they found themselves in a cozy room.

"Let's stop for a moment." Antilene ordered.

"Are you tired already?" Erya's long, golden hair moved, as if a perceived victory had brought his entire being to pleasure. "Stop, if you so wish. But I could go all night."

"You certainly could. But not your slaves," the half-elf retorted. "If you wish to go on alone, I will not stop you. But could you untangle yourself unaided in this unknown place?"

Erya bit his lip, but did not continue the discussion. Antilene took out a roll of parchment, which she handed to him and his companions.

"Use this to heal yourselves and relieve fatigue. We cannot afford to waste precious mana."

"You have no need of it, my lady?" One of the elves asked, the same one with the red hair who had addressed her when they were still outside the city. Of the three, she seemed the one with the most initiative, relatively speaking.

"No, I am still as fresh as a rose." It wasn't just the necklace of vitality under her shirt that made her unwearied. Nothing had caught the half-elf's attention more than it should have, and a little careful pulling of the blade was all that had been required from the start of the mission. "You are under my protection at this time, and I must take your needs into account."

Was this what was required of Aeneas and his predecessors? To know that at any moment, those who followed you might no longer be there, and you alone would be to blame. It left an unpleasant bitterness. Fighting and commanding were two distinct things, and the affinities that had to be developed to excel in both had as many commonalities as different paths. Another deficiency, which could hardly be filled, Antilene reflected.

Perfection was the domain of the Gods. What was left for her, then?

"How much longer do we have to stay here?" Patience was a virtue. A virtue Erya lacked. "Do you not hear them, my lady? The bells rang. They are ringing for us. They sing a hymn of freedom and immortality, which minstrels will try to replicate in the years to come." The stillness engulfed them in its indifference.

Antilene ignored him, sinking into the soft cushions of the armchair on which her backside had found solace. The room was small, but comfortable. A modestly sized painting depicting a smiling, affable young man adorned the room.

'That should be Prince Alexander,' assumed the half-elf, paying attention to the subject staring at her carefully behind the canvas. Blue eyes and hair of a deep light reminiscent of the ocean, strangely resembling seaweed, a slightly pulled face and small, plump lips. 'I feel like I've seen him before, but where? Looking at him like that, proud and imposing, I bet never the prince thought he would have to flee from what he surely considered his immortal realm. Flee, or something worse.'

She sighed, closing her eyes slightly. In the vacuous and pleasant nothingness, the world unfolded in a few colors. Red, above all. Screams begging for mercy overlapped with battle cries, reducing to a silent, religious clamor. They were reminiscent of the celebrations of the Cathedrals of Darkness, burning with a subdued passion, no the less furious, and desperate melodies, no the less joyous. The goal of all life was death. Never had that invocation, that formula, been so true.

Antilene opened her eyelids again, slowly. The darkness was ceasing, but never leaving her. Her hands, gloves removed, continued to be white, pale. They were snowflakes in a summer valley. No matter how many sins, or blessings perhaps, they stained themselves; they remained as they were the day they sprang from her mother's womb.

There were no windows in the room. The door had been carefully closed. Yet, Antilene knew what was going on outside the small space she had carved out for them. She knew, and approved of it. If a mirror had been placed in front of her, the half-elf could have observed a reflected image filled with satisfaction. That same satisfaction that only manifested itself when one was certain of having fulfilled the sanctity of their duty.

"Let's go." How long had it been since they had been there? No more than a few minutes, to be generous. It was strange that no one had scouted them; part of her had expected and wished for it. "You're ready, aren't you?"

The elves nodded; Erya spoke with facts, placing himself at the head of the line. His going was confident and contemptuous, tainted by an all too careless haste. If he had been within a few meters of other pitfalls, would his slaves have acted as was to be expected of them, or would they have left him to stew? Antilene found the prospect interesting.

Vague thoughts, which did not materialize into reality. Indeed, they found no further obstacles or ambushes. Which was but a sign of something worse that was waiting for them.

'Funny.' Danger teased forbidden and not entirely healthy fantasies. A dangerous toxin, not good for health; very exciting for an annoyed existence.

When they reached the innermost part of the palace, a large hall appeared before them. Candelabras on the walls diffused a calm and persuasive light, illuminating the splendid marble of the walls. Bronze masks with linear features in their eyebrows and ear lines and volumetric features in their noses and eyelids stared like eerie, immortal presences from the edge of the walls.

A wooden throne in the center. Above it, banners, twelve in all, each for the cities of the Union. It was easy to recognise Ris's flower, but others remained unknown to Antilene.

If she had to bet, in any case, she would have easily pointed out which one belonged to Karnasus, because of its central position and the exact correspondence in line with the kings' chair.

A sixteen-ray star, entirely embroidered in a shining golden fabric. Like the sun in the sky, it was there to illuminate everything it touched, on each of the four hinges.

Erya glanced at it in passing. "So this was where that famous prince sat his royal ass?" Devoid of any form of respect, he made what had been the throne of the previous kings his own. The only thing that could be noticed was how out of place it all appeared. "A kingdom... Yes, that would be nice. I could ask for it as a reward once the job is done. Erya Uzruth, first ruler of House Uzruth. That doesn't sound too bad. Doesn't sound bad at all."

His gaze was already lost in dreams of might and feats of vainglory. Antilene looked at him, wondering if it was thrones that made kings, or kings that made thrones. The Cardinals' choice to refuse those high seats had never seemed so sensible. It was so easy for corruption to mislead minds and inspire desires.

"My lady," Erya addressed her, scornfully feigning courtesy. "You may sit next to me, if that pleases you. There is not much space, but I know how to make it comfortable."

Falsehood, since that seat could have held ten, of Erya Uzruth.

"I am forced to decline," said the half-elf. "Already once the same proposal was made to me, and already once I refused." Compared with the Bloody Emperor, this was just a grotesque parody of a ruler. Yet, if placed one before the other, Erya would have had no trouble passing Jircniv by the edge of the sword. Was it therefore force, perchance, that decreed the birthright? Antilene, for that matter, had won her crown in that same fashion. Not so different, the two of them. "I only pray that you pay attention. From my experience, sovereigns are deposed as easily as they rise to power. Had my late father still been here, he might have treasured this warning."

But if Decem Hougan had been there, the same could not have been said for Antilene. If Decem Hougan had been there, the half-elf's life would have taken a different path. If Decem Hougan had been there, the world would have been a different place. Worse, so Antilene hoped. Better? So Antilene refused.

"But there is only us here," the swordsman replied. Descending from his throne, he continued to tower over the empty room, like the star he thought he was, under the prince's banner. "Or maybe not?"

And then loneliness made way for company. Unwanted company, to be more precise. Formed by armed soldiers who, imitating an anthill in the midst of gathering food for the winter, had filled every corner of the square. Their hubbub broke the silence, and their breaths filled the air with a rancid, unwelcome stench.

"They flocked, as if wanting to end their lives as painlessly as possible." Once again, Antilene pulled out her scythe. The pawing of the centaurs' hooves became more deafening. "Please, new prince. Show your wisdom and foresight by driving the invaders from your kingdom. What is the duty of a king but to watch over his subjects?"

"What is the duty of a king, if not to punish those who dare disobey?" Erya laughed, letting the first blood be his. And so the second. The third, it was Antilene's turn. The following ones, too, were the work of the half-elf. His laughter was still going, when the tongue that had made that lingering guttural sound so much snapped like a whip. "Incredible."

A trail had formed at their feet. A trail that shunned life in its entirety. Not only centaurs formed that scrum.

Orthrus with fierce, fleshy extremities. Consumed everything, their mouths. Their weapons were made for killing, for mangling. If there was anything sacred, they had not known it.

Grey-skinned Armanites, covered in thick armor. Their skin was decaying and worn, their screams imposed terror and implacability. Demonic helmets, made of spikes and blades. Every body part carefully designed to kill, every protrusion sharpened to tear flesh to shreds.

Bariaur with long beards, and even longer sticks. Druids by birth, connoisseurs of magic by vocation. They shouted in unknown tongues, letting their spells cloak allies, and destroy enemies.

"Is that all?" Antilene huffed boredly, letting the spears scrap through the jacket, arrows and magic run over her. What was raised was dust, what was accomplished was her indifference. Charon's Guidance had pierced their lines, dispersed their formations, and spiraled their charges. "Nothing better? Nothing more? The elves were more tenacious. But perhaps you lack something. The arrogance of the victors? Is that what moves you?" Her reflections were addressed to no one in particular, except perhaps to herself. "I suppose there is always something to learn. Don't give in to hubris, even when it would be so easy to do so."

No one moved an inch any more. What was a profound difference had dug into their deepest convictions.

They had been brave, the soldiers of the Great Plains. Antilene loved brave enemies. "Give me a thousand brave enemies rather than a hundred-thousand cowards!" She used to say. For the brave were also the first to die, the first to enter the fray. They gave efficiency to what was her task. For that, she knew how to be grateful.

But now... there they were, scattered and powerless. Only after the death of a few dozen of them. With Charon's Guidance still not satisfied, for that paltry offering. They retreated, the brave soldiers of the plains. They retreated with every step the half-elf, listlessly, took.

The tip of the scythe, still wet with crimson drops, divided the world. "I drew this line of blood. Whoever dares enter may join." No one stepped forward.

Erya stood beside her, sword still drawn. "Is there no one brave enough to challenge a young girl? How can you call yourselves warriors?" His was the tone of the victor.

"Interesting." From the enemy ranks, two presences stepped forward. The first to speak was a straight being, a strange mixture of a great centaur and a wingless dragon. His size, far greater than all the others, made his lizard-like head touch the ceiling. "Your words, human, will have to be followed by action. If it is an honorable duel you want, the Immortals are here to grant it to you."

He flashed a predatory grin; long rows of sharp, pointed teeth led the way from a mud-green mouth. The armor, pure adamantium with red and silver sparks, covered an equally imposing and monstrous body.

"I would not be so proud if I were you." Accompanying him was a far more delicate presence. "At this hour you will be the last remaining intruders. It will not be long before your strength will desert you and you will be overwhelmed by our soldiers." The face, crushed and devoid of any pattern that could be traced back to humans, was devoid of anything similar to a familiar expression . The lower body, which brought to mind the proudest of deer, kicked impatiently. On the head, majestic antlers would have made any crown pale in comparison.

Sure enough, the two Immortals had taken the field.

"What makes you think our comrades have already perished?" Antilene asked, focusing on the weapons their new enemies carried. A serrated ax, with a skull splitting the two blades, and a scepter of fine wood set with precious stones. 'A barbarian and an enchanter? A druid, or perhaps a shaman?'

What must have been the Dragon's Jaws began to cover the small distance that separated them. "Idiots. From the beginning your every move was known to us. If we let you run undisturbed like rabbits, it was only so we could destroy you more easily. You, and those who were still loyal to the old regime. We must thank you, because you have finally given us the opportunity to uncover and condemn the traitors." He was ready to pounce at any moment, of that there was no doubt.

"Humpf... you want me to believe that there was a spy among us? Or perhaps you knew about the secret passage?"

"Both," continued the latter, standing firm to his original position. A host of centaurs had taken to shielding him. "As soon as you set foot in this city, the informant was tasked with alerting our elimination teams. All we needed was the names of the nobles still hostile to us. By this time, the job will have been done. And General Chazos will have exterminated that small contingent you call an army outside our walls." The Forest's Horns moved his eyes, small and devilish, towards the half-elf. His face seemed to contort into what was a smile filled with irony.

Antilene scratched her forehead. "I see. So once he welcomed us, your informant blew the whistle like a good little soldier." From the endless pouch, the half-elf began to extract something. Still slimy and gross. "Then I was right to do what I did. Take it."

Darkol's head was thrown towards them. His eyes, still open, begged for the answer to a single question: 'Why?'

It was always that one. The lack of originality made the work extremely pedantic.

"Did you notice that? I thought the magical shielding made it impossible to trace the control spells." The disbelief of that funny cross between fawn and fairy was reward enough.

"Nono. Nothing I could perceive," the amused half-elf explained. "Really great work, your magic. Was it your doing, wasn't it? No need to open your mouth. I already know who I have to thank for this." Every debt was due to be paid. And the collecting would have started now… "It was my instinct that warned me. Of traitors I admit I have seen very few, but my nose has never been wrong about such things."

"What if you were wrong?"

Antilene shrugged her shoulders. "Just one less bird in this world. I would have shed no tears for him."

Surprise disappeared from the Forest Horns. Disgust was what decorated his features now. "In any case, nothing changes. Your comrades will have already been taken by surprise. If even some managed to save themselves, we will take care of them once we have finished here."

Another assumption dictated by security. The half-elf did not condemn them for that. If anything, she found that display of perceived control all the more fascinating.

"A thousand soldiers, maybe more. Hidden in every nook and cranny of the city. I wouldn't have found the majority of them, if I didn't get a little help." The face of Darkol continued to watch her. Antilene had to restrain her good humor so as not to appear too overconfident. "A great mixture of numerous races, many would have been impressed. A well-executed trap... Ahh if only it had worked. I don't think there are enough graves in this town's cemetery. Well, since you guys dug it yourselves, we can save at least a little bit of time."

"You are lying." Finally, a crack. Anger was what Antilene was looking for and had finally found. "Even if you were capable of such folly, you never moved from the palace. About the minotaur and the Dark Knight we already were aware of all there is to know. There is no way they could have survived such disparity in numbers."

"Am I?"

Neither Immortal countered that affirmation. They couldn't.

"Now enough of this nonsense," Erya intervened, annoyed. "Nothing matters, outside of here. Step forward, and let us put an end to this." Probably, he felt pulled out of it all. Lovely, in a way. "Which one of you will be my opponent? Or shall I challenge you together?"

"Do you want to go first?"

"Of course," huffed the swordsman. "I will not let the glory be yours alone."

Normally Antilene would have had no problem letting him have it all, no matter the details or the outcome. But shattering a countryman's aspirations would not have been the virtuous behavior of a good patriot.

"Ahahah. I like the way you think, human." The Dragon's Jaws did not laugh. What might have sounded like laughter was only the noise of the blades adorning his mouth screeching against each other. "I will be your opponent. And then it will be the elf's turn." The ax lifted from the ground until it landed on his shoulders. "Come, let us begin. Let us leave the quibbling to those who are not bearers of harmony."

It was Erya who opened the dances. Delfina, his sword, drew a curved line through the air, brushing against the Immortal's weapon. The recoil was followed by a sharp sound, and the positions of the two contenders returned to their original state.

"Tsk." Erya gritted his teeth. His legs moved before he had time to think, dodging an arc of the ax that nearly severed his head. "『Greater Ability Boost]』." His body was irradiated with a soft light as both hands gripped the hilt and directed a simple stroke in drawing a diagonal into the exposed legs of the Dragon's Jaws.

The result was a success, at least in theory. Delfina managed to swipe at the Immortal's scales, causing a small scratch. The enemy, however, had not stood still to be hit and with a single sweep of his tail had knocked Erya back once more, dropping him a few feet from Antilene and the three elves.

"Eheh." Erya, getting back up, spotted a confident smile. "Now we begin." The sword of law began to glow, a mystical lunar blue, to the point that one could have said it was the star in the sky that bestowed the materials from which it was forged.

"『Shukuchi Kai』."

There was no more distance between the two contenders. From bottom to top Delfina traced a perpendicular trail, silvery dust proof of its path, until it collided with the reptilian's ax. Erya's movements became faster, and with them the pressure of his blows, the difference in physical strength seemed to begin to close.

And the Dragon's Jaws let out a scream, the force of which became the undisputed master of the room. Antilene likened it to a hushed whisper in her mind, but judging by the reaction of the elves, reduced to their knees, and the swordsman's forehead, whose brow could not keep back the sweat stains, it would not have been wrong to consider it an effective move.

Erya, in any case, made the motto of the valiant his own, and continued the assault. A second sweep was directed towards the Immortal's flank; covered in flames, the sword wanted to prove that such a title was meaningless. Almost as a demonstration, the monster remained motionless as the fire touched his protection. Incandescent sparks erupted like a volcano awakened from a long rest, and the straight creature's face contracted, for a moment that seemed eternal, into a grimace.

Until the heat began to dissipate, Erya caressed what he believed to be his triumph. The arrival of the outcome of that first, painful contact was far too long in coming for what was to be a prelude to a new attack. Erya aimed for the neck, already holding his rival's head.

The sword, moving far too slowly for Antilene, did not complete its journey. With his free hand, the warrior of the Great Plains had jammed the blade between his fingers; as blood began to flow profusely from the wound, his huge face approached the swordsman of the Theocracy. The title of Immortal would be preserved.

"If you think tricks like yours are enough," he shouted, totally unconcerned about any injury, "the harsh reality will be the source of an equally ruthless awakening!" The ax moved, and Erya was just in time to parry the cut with his non-dominant arm.

Parry, to put it mildly. The man maintained his dignity for a single, dignified second. Then the screams of pain began. The stricken arm, by some miracle that did not lack a macabre sense of humor, dangled limply, barely still attached to the rest of the shoulder. It showed the bone, strangely remaining in part intact. Splinters of it combined with clots of blood gave little room for imagination to comprehend what Erya was going through at that moment.

The rule was, however, that such a wound on the battlefield could not lead to distraction. A rule that was promptly ignored. By Erya, not the Dragon's Jaws. With an uppercut, the latter struck the chin of the man whose suffering was still beginning.

Erya's head jumped, and for a moment it looked as if it had detached itself from the rest of the body, but the whole remained intact, whether it was luck or not was not for Antilene to determine. It hit the ceiling, and everyone had the impression that it would be stuck there for eternity. It did not, and the swordsman fell as only a dead body can fall.

"Finished already?"

The Immortal tightened his arms. His retinue began to call out his name, drumbeats raised by throats that had regained speech, lost until moments before. The Forest's Horns was the only one to keep calm and remain wary, casting glances at Antilene.

A spasm was suddenly heard. Erya, weakly, began to rise. Every smallest movement of his body was matched by deep, exhausted breathing. His face, proud and perfect, wore a mask of blood and scars. Disfigured, but not defeated, the swordsman drew a potion from his pocket, greedily drinking its contents with his arm still healthy.

"Why... Why?" He muttered angrily. Delfina was lifted a few feet from his gaze, dirty and splintered, but not broken. It had not lost its luster, his sword, but a grim shadow seemed to have taken control of that once so shining blade. "Why... why aren't you working?"

If only the sword could have talked. What would have it said?

"Trickery of the low order won't save you, I thought I warned you. Death and destruction are the basis of harmony, but you're just a coward who doesn't notice the beauty of the end of everything. You rise a little from mediocrity, and exchange cowardice for valor, recklessness for wisdom." The words of the Dragon's Jaws were as sharp as his fangs, and with their mockery they cut even deeper into Erya's soul. "Human, yours is a race of cowards. Not because you are weak, there is no shame in weakness. But because you shy away from what you truly are: servants. There is glory in serving, but superbly you believe you are too much for such a humble condition."

"That is enough," his companion stopped him. "Don't waste your time proselytizing. The glory of Heaven is precluded to those who shun the truth. And there would be much to comment on, about the foolish beliefs of your people, dracotaur." There was a veiled contempt in that last statement. The Immortals were not as united as they wanted to pretend.

Erya, however, had heard none of it. "You!" He shouted to his elves, who had taken refuge behind the throne. "You know what to do! Move!"

The slaves, scared, did not let this be repeated a second time. Bathed in new light, Erya's body began to heal, even his arm returned to a dignified state, the flesh regenerating little by little, trembling unsteadily from pain.

It was unbelievable that his opponent had let him do this, but perhaps it was simply because the Dragon's Jaws had lost all interest in what he perceived as a waste of his attention.

"Second round.『Ability Boost』,『Greater Ability Boost』."

Having returned to an acceptable condition, Erya began to fight again. This time, his was not a direct assault. He disappeared completely, leaving only a trail of dust as a memory. For a few seconds, many surely believed he had escaped. And as that belief became more convincing, the air trembled, and folded in upon itself. A slash of pure energy rushed at the reptilian creature, slashing at its armor, right in the area of its abdomen.

『Void Cutter』, a perfect martial art for those who made distance the strategy of their offensive, but which could also prove ineffective the more one fled direct confrontation.

Executed with a precision that would have made any veteran of five of the Six Scriptures envious. Superhuman, but only that. The limit, in the half-elf's opinion, was clear.

"You'll need more than that, human." The blow had the same effect as a slightly more violent caress than usual. "In my kindness, I have let you avail yourself of every aid granted to you, but do not mistake my patience for pity."

The dracotaur remained motionless, as more『Void Cutters』came down upon him, from every direction. A hissing roar continued to permeate the atmosphere, which became charged with ephemeral tension. Every attempt was as if predestined to be inexorably resolved into nothingness. The Immortal, fed up with that disordered waltz, moved for the first time. He was fast, much faster than Erya had ever been and more than he could ever hope to become.

His gigantic size, and the limited amount of space, was no problem. The great hind legs leapt with the gracefulness of a swan over a lake, but when they landed it was not a gentle splash that rose from the ground, but an earthquake that shook the land. Erya was there, before the eyes of a bored predator, eyes large and ravenous, that could not have been sated by a simple offering. Delfina moved, fast, very fast, not fast enough.

The ax, which appeared as gigantic as its bearer, cut the palm of his hands with a precise, surgical slash. The cascade of blood that followed was neither surprise nor dismay. The second blow that followed, as the luxury of reacting to the first had long since passed, ripped through the swordsman's chest, by a sinister twist of fate, splitting into asymmetrical parts the very symbol of the Theocracy that Erya wore -somewhat playfully- on his cuirassed chest.

A sweep of the tail threw the swordsman to the wall. Part of the wall collapsed, raising a cloud of dust. Antilene approached, coughing, believing him dead.

"Help me…" What an effort it must have been to emit that line of voice! The stumps where his hands were crawled pathetically on the ground, while all Erya's remaining energies were concentrated on a single, desperate plea. "Help me... Please help me… I know you can…" One of his eyes had been completely mangled by debris, but the remaining one stared imploringly at her. Black and dark, devoid of any sparkle, the eyelid giving all remaining impetus not to close again, for conscious that if it did, it would be its last.

The half-elf brought her face close to his. "I wish I could," she said, her voice a whisper. "But it is not for me to decide." She stood up again, drawing the attention of the three elves. "Hey, you!" The slave girls had curled up in a corner but had not shifted their attention from the fight for a single second. "Come here," Antilene ordered.

"If you think we're going to let you do whatever you want…" The Immortal tried to step closer; Antilene gave him a look devoid of any consideration. He stepped back, remaining silent; with him, all the soldiers present.

"What shall we do, my lady?" It was the elf she had interacted with earlier who spoke. The mop of red hair descended on her head, covering most of her dirty face. "Shall we help our lord?"

"That, it will be for you to decide," Antilene pronounced. Erya gasped something, too choked in his own blood to be clearly understood. "If you are merciful, there will be mercy. If you are merciless, there will be cruelty. Most of all it will be the strong -that is, at the moment, you- who will choose, in accordance with the beliefs of Erya Uzruth."

It pained her heart to place the life of such a valiant warrior on such a slender thread, but it would have pained her even more to know that in the final moments, Erya's path would be trodden and cast into the mud. The strong were the ones who decided the fate of the weak. A philosophy that Antilene could not fully share, but that she would not have disrespected.

And since she was an outsider, it was not for her to decide. Erya would receive all that he had sown. If he was still under the protection of the Theocracy, he could have invoked the greater good of humanity in his defense, at which point the half-elf would have been forced to intervene.

'But as he has rejected Slaine's beliefs, it is only right that his creeds should dictate his future.' A reasoning that went perfectly smoothly. Rufus would have been proud of her fair verdict.

"My lady," the elf looked at her incredulously. "You are surely joking. It is not for a slave to decide his master's future. The punishment for such misdeed would be... too much to bear."

"I find him despicable, so it wouldn't be fair to put his destiny in my hands and the only jury available at the moment is you three. Hardly an impartial jury, but I don't think there will be any complaints. If it is the consequences you fear, do not be afraid. You are under my protection, and I assure you that whatever the outcome, no harm will come to you and your companions. But if you remain silent," and she pointed her finger at Erya's increasingly dying body, "it will be up to me to help him. And as his countrywoman, I will place him under my protection. Take this statement as you prefer."

"Will there be no consequences?" The elf shifted the attention first from her then to Erya, in a continuous game of glances.

"No…" The direct caller gave all he had left to express his opinion. "No... damn bitch... don't…"

"No consequences." Promised Antilene. "Now, choose."

"My lady already knows what we choose." The elf responded, still unsure if to trust her. As expected, she dared not to fully trust the half-elf. But, when nothing less there is to lose, hope was more charming than every punishment that could be envisioned. "My lady knows what we fear, and my lady will act in accordance with our wishes. And hers."

"So will it be then." Antilene decreed, watching Erya quickly lose consciousness.

"No… Don't… Damn whore… Don't…" And with these words, the last breath was emitted. The star never shone in the sky, having lost all its brilliance there, on earth.

And what was meant to happen, happened. Erya died, drowned in his own blood and vomit, his body battered by the humiliation of a thousand wounds, with his slaves, all he had left, all he ever claimed, laughing at his sad fate.

Not a tear was shed, nor a farewell greeting uttered. A stillness of mockery was all with which he left that world. A funeral in which neither glory nor honor were celebrated.

"Okay," Antilene snapped her hands, the sound produced the only noise in the last few minutes to have defied the tomb-like silence. "We're not done here yet, are we? Or do you want to save me the trouble and slit your own throats? Quick and painless, something I cannot guarantee. My sincerest apologies."

The Dragon's Jaws, as awakened from a sudden dream, pointed the great ax towards her. "It is deeds, not words that prove the warrior. I see a frightened maiden, hiding the stench of terror with lofty complaints." Yet, judging by the discomfort and insecurity of his exclamation, the one who was clearly not perfectly in control of himself was the Immortal.

Dogs barked loudly to cover their smallness.

"Let's fight together. She... is different from her companion." The woven wooden scepter of the half-man-half-deer was enveloped in a greenish light. "I don't want to hear complaints about death and the way of the warrior. There is only one Heaven, the sovereign we serve."

The other wrinkled his nose, puffing out warm smoke. "You shall not have them. When you are ready."

The two Immortals positioned themselves at opposite ends, leaving the remaining soldiers directly in front of the half-elf. Except for the end of the throne, where the three elves had found modest shelter once again, Antilene was surrounded on all sides.

"Well, you have made the right choice." Antilene took a couple of steps. No one dared move. Charon's Guidance was stowed in the endless pouch. "Let's see, I want to try something different." Erya's hands still remained in place, where they had been separated from the rest of their body. They clutched Delfina with tender devotion, as if they did not want to disappoint their original owner.

Antilene pulled them indifferently away from the object of their loyalty. The hilt of the sword of law slipped through the fingers of the half-elf, who promptly closed her eyes, waiting for something she hoped would be forthcoming.

Disappointment did arrive swiftly, but not unexpectedly.

'Nothing, uh. That my talents are not as useful as I always believed? Or perhaps it is limited only to the armaments of the Gods?'

With these questions, she swung a couple of slashes. An unbeatable enemy as a target: air. No phenomena became apparent, no noteworthy event was the result of her actions.

'Is it just a piece of metal more conspicuous than usual?'

Dozens and dozens of magic arrows rained down on her, still intent on experimenting with that new toy. Antilene shook off the annoying dust that had accumulated on the chain mail.

'Perhaps it needs to be used to show its effects?'

Sharp thorns had emerged from the ground and jagged ominously around her. When she stepped on them, an amused tingling tickled her palms.

'Who to start with?'

A burst of hellfire swept over her, consuming everything in a majestic blaze. Antilene thanked the gentle warmth offered to her to counteract the harsh chill of the evening. There was no gratitude, however, when she noticed that the Union jacket was creased and ruined.

The Dragon's Jaws had thrown itself at her like a fury. She had to admit that the blade of his weapon fitted perfectly between the space of her index and middle fingers of her left hand. Delfina's point, on the other hand, did not acquire any particular grace as it was thrust into the Immortal's arm, and the screams of pain and despair that followed were an unpleasant distraction from the calm that had until a short time before cheered that sweet evening.

"Something is strange…" the half-elf reflected aloud. Indeed, after the moment when every one of her adversary's broken nerves had performed a concert of pain -the execution, to tell the truth, had left much to be desired, but that was the inconvenience of having to share the stage with incompetents- the one who was neither dragon, nor lizard, nor man had miraculously recovered and used the long tail that closed that bizarre spectacle he called appearance to pull her back a few meters.

Now the Dragon's jaws glowed with overflowing energy, and he aimed at her hand again. The blade missed Antilene by a whisker, and thrust impetuously at her feet. To hope that this descent would stop her rival would have been far too optimistic; lifting part of the ground the ax acted as a catapult, the lizard's tail a perfect counterweight, and hurled a boulder of pure, concentrated stone straight towards her chest.

Antilene took the blow, realizing too late the mistake she had made. 'Now I understand. Is that how it works then?' Fragments of dust and lime had lodged themselves in the rings of the chain mail. Delfina had regained that lunar complexion it had assumed during the clash with Erya, and the tiny shards of glittering dust falling from the sharpening mingled with the dirt that had accumulated on her chest. She must have looked absolutely ridiculous, looking like a walking rainbow.

Antilene did not have time to curse her embarrassment, for the Forest's Horns materialized behind her, his scepter covered in a long blue flame that had a piercing shape, similar to that of a fine sword. It struck her in the right shoulder, piercing her guard, but failing to make a dent in her skin, which dissipated the heat after a short time.

Time for the half-elf to turn, he had already recoiled.

"You have made a fatal mistake, little girl. I do not know what you have done, but I have never felt so full of energy!" The other Immortal continued to laugh, in the grip of unrelenting exhilaration. "『Cease and desist』."

The dracotaur was in front of her again, never so imposing. Delfina and the great ax impacted, the adamantium screeching on the sword, forcing a stalemate. But if her hands were busy, the Dragon's Jaws counted a natural advantage. Its tail tapered, charging like an unrivaled spear, striking the half-elf's chest once more. Antilene was thrown, rolling to the ground.

She could not get up, that a thunderbolt struck her. Electricity coursed through her entire body, digging out all her defenses. An unwanted yawn escaped from the side of her mouth.

The sword of the law had borne her name. Maximilian had once explained to her the mechanisms of justice. Most of all, it was a fairness that was sought in trials; a fairness aimed at repairing a perceived unjust damage. A palliative, rather than an instrument of prevention, despite the noble intentions behind it claimed otherwise.

The centaurs were upon her. The weapons they wielded had made them the elements of nature, and with ice, fire and wind they inflicted what they believed to be vengeance upon the body of the half-elf.

Delfina had redressed the scales as far as it could.

Antilene repelled the assailants with a simple gesture of her sword. Such was her skill, that many of them did not even realize they were dead, and continued to recklessly wave their weapons, finding only nothingness to greet them.

On one of the plates, a whole mountain of gold coins had been placed; the value, priceless.

The half-elf stood up listlessly. Her only motivation was the long sleep that would follow after all that too nosy ordeal.

On the other of the plates, a handful of copper coins of little worth.

The Immortals, incredulous, had no time to think of a counterattack. Antilene was already standing before the dracotaur, who stared at her full of rage. The arms gripping his great ax tightened. And so tight they remained, for the sword of the law had already reached out to stab them, letting the stream of blood flood down them.

One of the gold coins from the pile of Antilene had passed to the copper pile. This was the judgment of the law. Fair as the law could be. No more, no less.

The tail wagged again, aiming at the half-elf again. Antilene stopped it with a simple gesture of her fingers, bouncing her assailant like a child's ball. The lizard's face turned red with fury first, then with pain. The half-elf had placed her feet on the end that connected that additional limb to the rest of his body, and had begun to pull. The consequences were predictable, and the great tail, pride of the Immortal, was thrown away like vulgar rubbish.

The Dragon's Jaws stood up again, drenched with sweat, and began to strain; his whole face beginning to close in a vise. And behold, mystery of nature, the severed part began to regenerate, and a new tail, tangled with a disgusting liquid, took its place, as if nothing had happened.

"Five hundred and thirty thousand," muttered Antilene. "A frost demon had a power that reached this number. What it meant exactly, I don't know. But it was very big indeed, don't you think? Yet a foolish snail-man tried to challenge him, though he did not even reach a tenth of this level. What do you think happened?" No answer followed her question.

It was one of the favorite stories of the God of Wind, legend of the empyrean. Fragments of it were jealously guarded secrets of the Guardian Deity of the Theocracy, shared in passing with Antilene. Even the snail man, who had challenged the demon, could replace fallen limbs. The result had not changed, in the story and in reality.

The wheel of fate was constantly turning, and he who called himself strong would one day have to call himself weak. A harsh lesson, not lacking in truth. It also had been the frost demon's turn in that confusing story, and it would be hers too.

Antilene dealt a hook to the Immortal, still panting from the effort of his regeneration, and made him collapse once more. She then repeated the gesture from just before, severing the tail from the giant body. Their leader's spasms of pain, straining to reach lofty heights, were enough of a deterrent to prevent the other centaurs from intervening.

The Forest's Horns, the only fearless one, hurled a second thunderbolt, which struck full in the face of the half-elf. Antilene scratched her cheek, annoyed at that new sting.

"Your turn will come too," she announced joyfully. "Do not be selfish, and let your companion enjoy what he has lived for so far." A second attack did not follow.

The tails began to pile up. By the fifth snatch, the Dragon's Jaws was on his knees, but with fiery fire still burning within him.

A scream of rage, which would have chilled even the warmest blood, was his response to Antilene's provocation.

A last, desperate attack was unleashed with the ax, which glowed with cold light, the ice covering the blade and sharpening its edge. Antilene waited, with Delfina in her fist, for the blow to fall upon her. The Immortal was immense, the title of wingless dragon would never have been so fitting. In comparison, the half-elf with her petite size was even more comparable to a helpless infant.

A cascade of hail, that was the blow that followed. A spectacle that, under other circumstances, would have left breathless at the magnificence of that snowy trail, which carried with it the beauty of an eternal winter. The shining gray of the blade was as resplendent as ever, courtesy of what was a polar aura acquiring concreteness. The great ax was shrouded in bands of red, green and blue colors, and could have continued that spectacle of hues forever had it been free to roam the sky.

Instead, it collided with Delfina's tip. A tip that had claimed as its own the cobalt blue of the full moon and the silver of the lady of the night. The sword, with a simple, lightning-fast flick of Antilene's wrist, lashed out and stopped that marvel, retreating just a moment for the snow that fell on the half-elf's nose, causing her to shudder a little, and first it ripped through that fluorescent ice, reducing it to a number of pieces comparable to those resulting from shattered glass, and then it collided with the adamantium of the sharpening. It collided with, or rather, sheared off what was a metal that had not, until now, known rust and decay. Shattered, reduced to the state of any vulgar old iron.

The Dragon's Jaws looked at what remained of his weapon and smiled. He continued to stand, proud, unwilling to accept that death might catch him unprepared. "Wonderful sword!" His voice boomed, devoid of regret. "And even more extraordinary is the warrior who wields it!"

That reaction left Antilene stunned, who in turn took a few seconds to figure out how to proceed. She returned the unexpected smile, ready to finish that charade.

"『Darkness』."

Everything went dark, and the half-elf could no longer see anything except for small, yellow eyes watching her. Then she felt something grab her and a disgusting sensation in her collarbone, as a slimy tongue caressed her. Long rows of teeth had bitten into her chain mail and worked their way into her skin.

Dragon jaws. An apt name, for to such were comparable the sharp fangs that teased the half-elf's flesh. What power, the names! Most of all, they were the most treacherous traitors.

There was a crack, and Antilene's skin, still pristine and unscratched, felt something hard slipping under her chain mail. What could be dangerous was also subject to fragility. A lesson imparted, but one that would not have the opportunity to be assimilated, unfortunately.

Still raised in midair, the half-elf threw the sword she wielded, stabbing the chest, a few feet from the heart, of the one who had cast that spell. The Forest's Horns let out a howl of pain, and the darkness he had conjured began to dissipate as his wailing subsided.

Now, it was time to focus on the one who had trapped her.

"Die forgotten, Immortal. Be thankful that your title was granted unto you before having met me."

Antilene's hands caressed his enemy's scaly neck and began to run over the jugular. It was as if the fingertips had been dipped in watercolors of sweet hues and were tracing a precise pattern on the air itself, infusing the reflections of light with a single, beautiful image.

Snap. The dracotaur's neck was contorted, and he who was immortal no longer was. Much to her surprise, now that she could observe them better, those yellow holes running away from life did not ask her that classic question that was beginning to be obnoxious to her. They were satisfied eyes; eyes that were no longer searching for anything.

Antilene descended gently to the ground, approaching the second of those fakes.

He was still breathing, by some strange miracle, but it would not be long before he reached his companion.

"Daeva... so Arsames had indeed been killed... Was it you in that case too?"

"And even if I was?" Antilene drew her sword still sticking out, paying no attention to the delicacy. Fortunately, the deer man didn't even have strength to shriek again.

"Were you telling the truth... when you said our plan had failed?"

"Who knows?"

Antilene put an end to his suffering by piercing his heart with Delfina. Not even a groan was uttered. Placid calm accompanied that passing.

When she turned around, the half-elf noticed that only she and the three elves remained in the room.

"My lady," the one with the red hair, was the first to address her. "What shall we do with those who have escaped?" There was fear in her lowered gaze. Fear, but also something else. Admiration, perhaps? Certainly, something the half-elf was not used to.

"Never mind, I've already taken care of them." She began to leave the throne room, heading outside.

Another of the now former slaves, the one with dark hair, shyly addressed her. "My lady," she said, not without some embarrassment. "What will become of us now?" They had gathered up Erya's still usable magical items and formed a small offering which they now handed to the half-elf.

Antilene refused it with a wave of her hand.

"Do what you want. Find another master to serve, or live free in the way that suits you the best."

"My lady, may we pass into your service? We have nowhere else to go."

Antilene sighed, aware of what would follow. "If you wish. What are your names?"

"This humble girl's name is Radish. Prika and Rucola are the ones of my companions of misfortune." The other two bowed their heads in unison.

"Good, Radish. How about we start by heading outside? We'll talk better when it's all over."

The redhead nodded, leading her companions outside with her.

----------------------------------------

When they were outside again, the city had woken up. From her elevated position, Antilene could see so many tiny ants moving through every neighborhood, every street, leaving nothing unexplored. Niles and his group had opened the city gates and Ris's troops had swarmed inside the walls.

The chaos that followed was as predictable as it was noisy. Citizens took refuge in their homes, believing that barring the gates was enough of a solution to completely alienate themselves from the outside world. The city guard found themselves divided between those who welcomed the invaders as old friends and saviors and those who had accepted their new masters and found it difficult to return to the old regime.

Rampant confusion, messy orders and blood beginning to paint the streets. Of that there was plenty.

"Ah, you're here."

Antilene was greeted by a familiar figure, completely covered in a lumpy scarlet red. Tiny drops of white were visible beneath that uniform, solidified layer. The survivors of the Immortal's guard lay at its feet, looking still in disbelief at the fate they had failed to escape.

"Are you done here too?"

The figure lowered its head, remaining silent. Not that the gift of speech had been bestowed to it.

"Look at your state. Perhaps I have overworked you." Antilene shook a strand of hair from its forehead, pregnant with still-fresh blood. Eyes that were her own stared at the half-elf impassively, emotionless. "Did my sister and Melina see you? Not that I don't already know the answer."

Einherjar shook its head.

"Their best warriors were waiting for us, so you had to stoop to dealing with scraps. Well, there was no alternative." After all, the Spartiates would have attracted too much attention and would not have been as efficient. Yet Antilene found it wasteful to have had to use her friend for something so venial.

"Of course," and turned to the three elves behind her, who were commenting enough with their faces. "You didn't see anything, right?"

"My lady, we have already been blessed with a generous new mistress this day." Radish replied with feigned confidence. "But two? We are not so foolish to believe in miracles. If we serve, we serve one. Only one, for such is the savior of the elves. And what the savior sees, we see. What the savior hears, we hear. What the savior commands, we execute."

'Perhaps it would be appropriate to kill them here and now,' Antilene considered. 'But they are not lying. Hum, I will take some precautions later, and if it proves ineffective, I will get rid of them.'

Her tender heart would be her undoing, but those three had suffered enough for the time being. Since there was no need to unravel that skein right now, she would leave the matter to the Antilene of the future, hoping she would show better judgment.

"Now, what to do?" Antilene thought aloud. First she began descending towards the lower part of the walls, followed by the golem and her new subordinates, so as to get a clearer picture of the situation.

"What do you say? Shall we throw ourselves into the fray too?" Antilene asked the Einherjar. No answer was expected, and no answer was given. "Hum, they don't seem to be doing too badly."

Ser Niles and his unit were the vanguard, and it had to be admitted that the minotaur led the charge commendably. Next to him, a swordsman who wore a beautiful helmet in the shape of a sea dragon, wreaked havoc on his enemies. Strangely, the soldiers followed his commands more eagerly than those of the minotaur. The few remaining centaurs broke their forces against them, being repulsed without the slightest opportunity to fight back. The main square of the city, the Square of the Dark Blade, became the main theater of the clash.

Melina and Agravaine led the rear. The Dark Knight, in particular, was guardian of the citizens' safety, directing the jumble of various species in an orderly manner.

What remained of the Great Plains army, accumulating losses with every passing minute, attempted to attack an open flank, being thwarted by the firmly held pikes of Ris's infantry. This, however, was not enough to completely prevent the agile and skittish centaurs from falling back and regrouping again, bombarding the increasingly dispersed formations of the small army with arrows and sorceries.

Having chosen a wider terrain to conduct the battle had been a winning choice for the troops of the Great Plains, who, accustomed to wide spaces of maneuver, enjoyed a not inconsiderable advantage over the queen's soldiers, consisting for the most part of much slower races.

Antilene sat on one of the walls, enjoying the spectacle. By now the situation had stabilized, with a slight advantage fluctuating between the two sides. She would allow only one long minute to declare the winner, before taking the field herself.

Her stomach grumbled, having barely eaten all evening. Rucola offered her a piece of cheese taken from Erya's bag. In the end, the swordsman had managed to make himself useful.

It was regrettable that no one could applaud his fundamental contribution.

And then a blast of trumpets was heard, and from the west gate, opened by a handful of survivors, Beppo Allo's army made its glorious entrance. Five thousand troops, most of them made up of goblins, hobgoblins and other races of similar affiliation, quickly covered the distance that separated them from the raging battle.

The two armies came to a halt. One of the centaurs, his protection completely abandoned, ran towards the leader of the newcomer.

Leading the new army was what one would have called a goblin of considerable size, distinguished from other specimens by its elongated nose and pronounced hand claws, reminiscent of the most ferocious bears. His body was entirely covered in splendid armor, the plates of which gleamed a bright, warm silver; a coat of arms in the shape of an iron club decorated his chest and, if one paid attention, also the blazons on the banners his knights carried. He rode a completely black horse, covered in steel of the same color, which made him look even bigger than he already was.

He stopped near the centaur, and Antilene cursed that she was too far away to hear what they were saying to each other. What the half-elf saw, however, was the spiked mace that the too-big-goblin unsheathed and waved in the sky, followed by a war hymn.

"Kill the invaders!"

The half-elf realized it was time to intervene; but it was only when she had traveled a few meters that she understood how events had unfolded.

The iron club had crushed the centaur's head, smashing it into a shapeless mass of brains. Then, General Chazos had led his troops against those who had been his enemies from the beginning.

To say it was a massacre would be an understatement. No one managed to escape, trapped in the grip of two armies. When she reached the square, Antilene had only to be careful not to step on the remnants of warriors and civilians -many civilians- who had been caught up in the fight.

"My Queen," when she saw her, Agravaine ran towards the direction Antilene was heading towards. Her sister was stained with blood -not her own, in all likelihood- and breathing laboriously, but otherwise seemed to have no other issues. "Are you alright? The mission? Are the Immortals dead? There are no injuries, right?"

She peppered her with questions, before noticing someone was missing. "Erya Uzruth? What happened to him?" The three elves shielded themselves behind the half-elf, while Einherjar had returned to Antilene long ago.

"I'll explain it to you later," Antilene dismissed that trifle with a simple shake of her head. "Though it's easy to guess what happened. You, on the other hand, did everything go smoothly?"

"Incredibly," her sister said. "Lady Melina was very surprised that so few sentries were there, but it didn't take us long to open the eastern gates. We feared for a trap, but our worries were unwarranted. Once having been rallied with Sir Niles, we began the assault. Once again, we were amazed at how little resistance there was. Although... there was something strange."

"What?"

"Many more corpses than we had thought possible were lying in the streets before the battle even began."

"That must have been your impression," Antilene smiled at her. "The frenzy of the fight can play tricks on you."

Even if she was not convinced, Agravaine did not show it.

"What about General Chazos?" The half-elf changed the subject, noticing that the overgrown goblin had taken his place next to Sir Niles in the center of the square. Next to them also stood the warrior who had flanked the minotaur in the charge, his sea dragon helmet immaculate unlike the rest of his armor, decorated with the flesh of the enemies. "Is he an ally? Or just a profiteer?"

"According to Melina, he has been in cahoots with Queen Kirke from the beginning. It was all a charade to get their troops into the city. Of course, if the centaurs hadn't found themselves in over their heads, with their command chain exterminated, they probably would never have opened the western gates."

If she had not been there, Antilene wondered what might have occurred. Perhaps Chazos would have simply turned back home, or perhaps the Immortals would have forced him into a siege with no way out. It was almost as if the Queen of Ris had no great preference as to who came out the loser of that battle. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and you will never lack subjects to sacrifice.

Either way, nothing changed for the half elf. That had only been an appetizer, and of poor quality mostly. No sour, nor sweet. She prayed that the main courses would taste different, otherwise the old life as a recluse in the Theocracy would have started to seem not so bad.

"What now?" Her curiosity was only turned towards the future. "What will be the fate of Karnasus?" It would have been amusing if the two factions had started tearing each other apart for control of what had been the coveted prize. Whatever the outcome, she hoped it would at least entertain her a little.

Her sister lowered the head, mortified. "I have not been informed, my Queen. I can arrange that as soon as possible."

"I don't think there will be any need," Antilene reassured her.

The warrior in the center of the square had taken off his sea dragon helmet, and the half-elf was finally able to recognise him. It was the same attendant who had served her briefly during the stay in Ris.

"Brothers, it is good to be back here! In the same city I had forsaken not too long ago. In the same square where my best friend gave his life to protect me and the future of my people. I can touch the gentle breeze that caresses my face, and smell the most wonderful scent in the world! A nostalgic scent, full of memories, but also regrets. The scent of home!" His voice was the only thing audible in the midst of the religious silence. "This will be remembered as a holy day, a day of rebirth! Karnasus welcomes back its lost children! Karnasus embraces once again the men and children that died for it! Karnasus cast out the invaders that desecrated its sacred ground! The Argades family reclaim its throne!"

And it was also the same man depicted in the portrait Antilene had found in the royal palace.

Shouts of joy were raised to the sky.

Prince Alexander had returned home, at last.