The Three Rivers lay at the near-crossroads of, well, three large rivers that brushed inside the biggest city that Arakiel had seen on this minor plane and he had no doubt that it was in fact the largest. And while its size was certainly dwarfed by any of the Eternal Cities, it was still quite a sight on the basis of its fortifications alone.
The roughly dozen-meter high walls of stone were thoroughly chalked, giving them an almost majestic white sheen in the clouded light of the midday sun. He counted over two dozen towers that the builders had strewn across the walls in more or less steady distances, some of which had tiled, pointy roofs whereas others were flat. He didn’t need to be an expert in sieges to guess that these flat towers held spaces for counter-siege engines or the like.
The royal palace in all its ivy and lichen-covered glory loomed right there in the middle, having been built across all three rivers with the help of earth and nature mages. From the distance, it looked to be a tall main building in the shape of a roughly octagonal cut, with each corner ending in an annex building which resembled another octagonal tower. For something so ‘natural’ given the overgrowth, it looked oddly artificial. The main building held a dome, whereas the annex buildings’ roofs were flat, but their top held battlements instead.
Inside that building, the penultimate challenge lay… King Cahir. Nyanna had assured him that the decrepit king was currently residing in his palace. Arakiel and Ezekiel needed to kill him personally – Nyanna and Alanna had been quite clear on that subject.
They wanted their new ‘knights’ to kill the old.
The walls were high enough that he couldn’t make out anything of the city proper, but it was fairly easy to imagine it being another Middle city with half-timbered facades, cobblestones roads and lots of artificial gardens and presumably quite a few parks. All of this was possibly taken up a notch since he expected the wealthiest and most influential people to live here.
The Three Rivers were surrounded by fertile farmland even if it was currently one big muddy, partially flooded field as the rivers held enough water to flood a part of the surrounding area. Undoubtedly a result of the melting snow.
Thankfully, the paved road that winded through the fields seemed more or less dry – probably a lesson the Middles had learned over the decades and one Arakiel was certainly thankful for. It’d make it so much easier to rapidly close in on the city proper.
Curiously enough, he didn’t espy a moat around the city itself, despite the high walls.
Another lesson they had not learned was to have sentries of some kind that could act as a warning in case of an approaching opposing force. But given that Nyanna and Alanna had been in control of the kingdom, the immortals had probably considered it moot while the Middles might’ve gotten complacent, given their decades-old dominant position on this plane.
Behind him, the southern army was already preparing to put a stop to that. In just a few moments, they’d storm the city for he had promised to pave the way and by now, his soldiers believed him.
The last three weeks had seen an increasing fanaticism with which the Holy Transcended’s chosen people’s army regarded him as tales of his exploits were being woven and carefully placed among ardent supporters who then spread the word further.
Each echo formed another one of its own and he had to commend Aisha for setting it in motion. By now, no one spoke of Sultan Zimraan anymore unless it was in the context of revenge, and even then the akh went up in the broader context of justice for all the atrocities committed against the south and its people. Whether it was the rape of Jenaya, the Crimson Week or the attempted poisoning of the three cities – or one of the many, many instances in which a Middle had treated a southerner like dirt… every soldier found his own reason to put his all into it and by now, his advisors presumed that only very few people remained that were truly just trying to get some wealth and status.
By now, the army fought for something grander than mere wealth.
For vindication of their besmirched honor, their pride.
And Arakiel had become the guide through which it’d be restored.
The fire may have dimmed over the previous months, but it was easy to rekindle – in fact, it might burn even higher than it ever had.
If Nyanna wanted to cause him the greatest amount of harm, then she’d stop supporting him just as he was about to make it happen. He kind of had a feeling that she wouldn’t do that, though. Or maybe it was but a hope.
Over the past weeks of traveling, a restlessness had begun to take root inside him. Arakiel wanted this planeswalk to be over and done with. It was the worst possible mindset one could have for an undertaking of this type, but now that Nyanna had given her support, he felt an urgency – and the capability to see it done – that hadn’t been there before.
He longed for his own home, longed for the bustling activity of Kalanaar and most importantly, he wanted to inform his parents about Mellia’s abduction as rapidly as possible.
Realizing that he was once again trailing off, he reprimanded himself and then looked to the side, towards Ezekiel.
His right hand wore his full equipment, halberd at the ready. He gave no remarks at the moment, but he was ready for anything, especially the upcoming challenge. The other Mortal Ascendant had spoke precious little lately, but on this, the two agreed unanimously.
Akili and Aisha had closed up on him as well, joining him at the army’s spearhead. The two still couldn’t quite believe that the two Hosts had been able to just up march up here all the way into the heartlands – and no one stopped them.
Restless rising inside him, Arakiel began to set the thing that needed to be done into motion while Aurora’s hands on his back lightly pushed against it – another and one of the most pressing issues as well.
He turned his horse around and faced his army of black, white, scarlet and golden colors. Over a thousand soldiers had gathered here, each one loyal to the cause and by extension, to him.
He unsheathed the scimitar that Sultan Zimraan’s minions had once gifted him and held it aloft, after which a nearby Air Enchanter boosted his voice.
Many of the southerners responded his gesture in kind.
Arakiel gave a short but explosive speech that reminded his soldiers of the Smokeless Host’s rules as well as the sultan’s decrees. He didn’t want a blood bath, but he also wanted to get this over swiftly – and although he hadn't asked Nyanna, he was certain that she would be more than insulted if he tried to make her and Alanna hunt down every mage in there.
No, the fae wanted a good show and the Smokeless and the Mirrors’ Host would deliver.
He was self-aware enough that he was about to turn mortals into immortal toys, but sometimes, dire circumstances demanded dire and even regrettable actions.
This was one such circumstance.
After the speech was over, he took on Aurora’s aspect and then gave the order to charge. It was met with roars and praises of the highest magnitude.
Emboldened, he rode straight towards the city gate, his army following in his wake by horse and foot.
Ezekiel and Selene were right beside him while Nyanna was probably somewhere, but he couldn’t make her out.
Over there, on the high walls, he saw people frantically running around, having at last noticed their impending demise. He found it hard to believe that they didn’t see it coming, but as there hadn’t yet been a hail of arrows and magical projectiles to greet them, they probably trusted in the strength of their walls.
Such things only happened when the planeswalkers and their army had almost reached the gate, at which point the first water and nature evocations alongside nature-enchanted arrows were let loose – but Arakiel’s own minor use of alterations and the occasional manifestation of golden fire or air kept him safe while he just assumed that his army suffered little to no injury. They might not have the heaviest equipment, but the battle strategists had ensured tactically sound placement of mages, especially those capable of disabling or hampering missile fire.
Behind him, Aurora didn’t even flinch as if the entire ambient noise didn’t exist. This utter fixation on him… he needed to reverse it just a little over the coming days, weeks perhaps.
Time was running out.
He had been informed that the city’s gate was fourfold, with two massive wooden gates and two thick metallic portcullises. Normally, it’d count as an exceedingly effective defensive battlement on a minor plane, yet when Arakiel raised his sword aloft once more, and then theatrically cut a horizontal line, the Middles learned a lesson that Arakiel had learned just a few weeks earlier.
Nothing mattered in the face of power absolute.
The seelie’s attack remained invisible, yet it’s effect did not. Not even remotely.
He perceived it as almost comical when the gates and the portcullises just… separated, having indeed been divided horizontally by an unrealistically powerful slash of what he presumed to be condensed air. He didn’t know it, though.
Heavy wood, even massive cast iron was no match against it.
As the gates imploded in a pointed combination of ear-deafening noise followed by a stunned silence, Arakiel briefly wondered how the mortal tribes had ever taken heart in fighting against the immortals… how could any normal person hope to contend with something like… that?
His perceived action caused a the world around him to freeze still for but a moment.
He used it to sort out his thoughts which meant that he pushed them inside to tackle later and then pointed his weapon forward.
It was time to do battle.
He repeated the order to reclaim glory lost and then spurred his mount into action.
From inside, the Three Rivers was indeed a lot more impressive than any other Middle city.
The wide streets were paved with in a regular bond of natural ashlars, there were already trees lining it and even the first houses facing the main street had little gardens and exceedingly decorated half-timbered facades while most of the first floors seemed to have been built from natural stone.
Arakiel spotted several dozen heavily armored middle soldiers in the street’s middle. Their faces were hidden underneath helmets, yet the fact remained that despite their crossbows and bows aimed at him… they had yet to fire a single shot.
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Even the more lightly armored Middles in the back row seemed stunned still when he, Aurora and his horse emerged from the little cloud of dust, followed directly by Ezekiel and Selene.
The planeswalkers just charged past the defenders who only got taken out of their trance when the horses passed by them… but it was too late at this point.
There was, after all, another hundred or so riders following in their wake.
Silence gave birth to shouts, discharges and impacts; the throes of battle began.
To the front, Arakiel saw Middle citizens still on the road.
Men and women of different attire carrying goods, baskets and the like – mothers with children.
Finally, an alarm bell rang as he reached the first square, having left confusion and panic in its wake. The loud shrill sound that resounded all over the Three Rivers intensified it to the power of several times over.
This plaza had a massive marble statue of a venerable man in regalia, his slightly wavy sword raised aloft in a heroic pose. It was overgrown with ivies that sprouted purple-colored roses and he suspected a faint connection to the seelie.
For all intents and purposes, this square-faced man with the crown on his head might be King Cahir… his target.
Ezekiel and Arakiel hurried straight across the surprisingly clean stonework, past the many smaller stands that had sought to sell all kinds of produce. The owners had scattered, running for their lives.
Both aimed their horses straight for the palace which lay straight ahead.
The overall level of ambient sounds rose steadily and although he couldn’t see Nyanna and Alanna, he was certain that the seelie sisters were close or at least watching.
They entered the Three Rivers’ promenade which was representative enough that he noticed it. The broad paved street was chalked white and lined with beds of flowers as well as an abundance of differently colored trees that were in full bloom. Little artificial canals flowed underneath grates around the arranged beds and the flanking facades had to be the most luxurious yet, with little squiggly bays, differently shaped hip roofs and the occasional balconies, some of which even had columns upholding their own little roof.
Behind a few windows, he made out faces watching the happenings down below but if there were any combatant mages, they didn’t make any moves against the four riders on two horses.
It didn’t take long for a broad ramp to come in sight, one that led in a shallow arc all the way up to the keep’s gates which were closed, surprisingly.
A few quick-minded citizens were already heading towards the keep’s entrance and Arakiel could barely make out a few guardsmen in the house atop.
All in all, the city seemed woefully unprepared for an immediate breach by the attackers. In fact, he almost doubted whether they had expected any attackers at all – the market stalls and the way the citizens appeared overly surprised… it came across as incredibly odd and faulty, ragged almost.
It worked out for him and for a moment, he mused whether the two seelie had any part in it. It seemed unlikely, but they were unpredictable after all.
Arakiel and Ezekiel quickly closed distance towards the keep and by the time they reached the ramp, the guardsmen inside still hadn’t opened the gates, leaving an increasing amount of crying and shouting Middle citizens out to fend for themselves.
He called out towards them to make way as the first magical spells in the form of icicles and vines were thrown their way.
Ezekiel and Arakiel met them with fire evocations on their own, their streaks of golden and silver flame causing most of the middles to hurry to the side in panic.
Thankfully, the ramp had a rather high railing. He very much preferred it if people didn’t fall to their death. From what he could tell on a first glance, these people were noncombatant civilians.
As soon as they arrived right in front of the gate, he raised his sword aloft once more time, hoping that Nyanna was close.
In a swift motion, he cut the air sideways while facing the heavy wooden double doors and undoubtedly another set of portcullises.
This time, he heard the faintest swooshing slash followed by a soft giggle right next to him.
Behind, the alarm bells seemed oddly distant while in front of him, a similar event as earlier played out. The wood split first, yet judging by the deafening sounds that followed when the construction collapsed onto itself, the seelie had cut much more than timber.
Some people around him screamed, others looked at him at him and Ezekiel, ablaze in gold and silver respectively, as if they were some kind of terror incarnate.
For all intents and purposes, that wasn’t too far from the truth.
Arakiel spurred his horse into a sprint with a yell. He was quite certain that Nyanna had also enchanted the beast as it was utterly fearless and he wasn’t a good rider by any metric.
The seelie wanted her dramatic entrance and she’d get it.
Ezekiel followed right behind him as they hurried past the stunned or awed citizens, through an outer ward whose means to trap intruders had also proven ineffective against the fae’s overwhelming use of magic.
If there were any attacks, then Arakiel didn’t notice them.
They entered a rather sizable lower courtyard where several lines of Middle soldiers quickly formed, shields and weapons – mostly spears, crossbows and the like – at the ready.
“We are here to challenge King Cahir!” Arakiel exclaimed right away towards the soldiers, adding. “Do not stand in our way and you will not be harmed!”
They were met with the clicking of crossbows, followed by a barrage of bolts. None connected – and he didn’t even need to evoke something.
His alterations appeared stronger than ever, especially his control over air and fire.
“Then you have chosen death,” Ezekiel called out as he jumped off of his horse in a surprisingly high arc, especially considering the fact that he was heavily armored.
When he landed, he immediately drew a long line of floating silver fire into the air, one that soon erupted into his own swathe of silver flames.
It wasn’t nearly as potent as the ones Arakiel had unleashed after forming the covenant with Aurora, but they were sizable enough that those Middle soldiers in the center had no way of escaping.
But then the flames were suddenly extinguished as a brief but notable shockwave traveled through the courtyard, one that ever so briefly pushed all sound away.
When it returned, some of the Middle soldiers’ eyes had widened – he could tell from those whose helmets didn’t have faceplates.
And then they split, a horizontal line having cut through the row from left to right.
“Press on,” an ethereal, disembodied voice announced from all around. “This is not your battlefield. The root of it all awaits you further inside.”
Seeing no point in arguing with Nyanna or Alanna, he pushed on right away while Ezekiel had to remount first.
Arakiel just hoped that Aurora didn’t look to the side, but she seemed to be lost in her own little world which was probably for the best right now.
They moved on up to another ward which ‘he’ cut apart, followed by a second line of defenders that lost their heads or torsos just like the ones prior – at that point, none dared to approach the two planeswalkers that had their own ‘guardian immortals’. Their movement was called out by the remaining defenders – and that is it.
The main complex’s entrance came in sight not long afterwards – another set of oversized wooden double doors in a fairly decorative facade with lots of round windows, little ornaments and other architectural gimmicks. The door stuck out to him a little as its surface held an almost vanished crest. It looked like an ivy crown through which a wavy blade with a fairly elaborate hilt and crossguard pierced… the very same blade that had been on the statue he had spotted earlier.
Arakiel considered cutting the thing apart once more, but it was moot when it seemingly opened by itself, revealing the path into a surprisingly well-lit hall in soft whitish light thanks to what had to be lighting crystals.
Its floor was tiled with white, green and rose-colored panels, the marble columns reaching high up towards the vaulted ceiling were ornate and overgrown with blooming ivies. A soft scent of fresh roses lingered in the air and there was a distinctive lack of any personnel, be they guards, courtiers or servants. He spotted a few low benches in the far reaches, but the antechamber remained empty.
There was another set of wooden doors in the back, leading further into the keep. The crest was clearly visible on this, yet it held little new insight besides the fact that both crown and sword were surrounded by ivies. Perhaps entangled might be a more fitting term.
Arakiel dismounted and helped Aurora off of the horse. Ezekiel and Selene arrived just a little later and the two briefly looked around. They spotted several people hiding around corners or behind windows in this deceptively huge inner courtyard from which one could undoubtedly reach every single annex building.
“Remember,” Ezekiel spoke up, his voice slightly muffled from behind his helmet. “We need to be the ones that end Cahir. The seelie demand it.”
Arakiel shot his companion an assessing look, giving off a snarky comment. “We’re all in for team immortal now, are we?”
Ezekiel wouldn’t have it. “Stop. You know as well as I do how the dance goes, so let’s not linger and get this over with. Our intimidation tactics will only work so long.”
On this, Arakiel affirmed whereas on the rest… he had to keep reminding himself to not to, but it was hard.
With everything having been said, Ezekiel entered the keep, with Selene following him silently, but not before casting a glance towards Aurora.
“Come,” Arakiel whispered softly as he took Aurora by the hand. She looked at him, her golden eyes briefly searching his own. Then, she followed him willingly, replying. “I won’t hinder you, my Lord.”
“You never would and never did, my love.”
The two followed after Ezekiel and Selene. The former’s heavy footsteps alongside the clanking of his armor reverberated quite audibly through the hall, so much so that it overplayed the opening of the door leading further inside. That pair of doors also turned out to be the only exist as far as he could see.
It opened into what could only be defined as an aula regia, a venerable throne room in which the royals held audience.
When the antechamber was sizable, then the throne room was downright ridiculous by comparison – not only in width and length, but also in apparent height.
The chalked vaulted ceiling was so high up he could barely make it out. The walls to the side were similarly clad in shadows since the only sources of light – a whitish lighting crystal for each column – were mounted low on the winding columns of marble that stretched up to infinity. Not really infinite, but they kind of vanished in the dark above.
He counted fourteen of these columns that lined the path towards the throne in the back of the room, although there seemed to be an apse even further in the back.
If there was something the tiled floors, the marble columns and the apparent paneled walls had in common, then it was the ivy. Everything appeared to be overgrown with emerald ivy that occasionally sprouted rosebuds, some of which had blossomed whereas others remained closed. The main colors remained green, blue and a light pink, which stood in stark comparison the throne in the hall’s back.
There, on a pedestal, a deep purple color reigned.
The throne was overgrown just like the rest of the room, but there was only a single kind of flower blossoming – the purple-blooming rose kind.
And on that throne of vines sat a crowned soldier – a man clad in layered silver plate armor, his intricate helmet with a faceplate in the shape of an avian break wearing an ivy crown with purple blossoms. He leaned onto a heavy two-handed sword with a wavy blade with an exotic overgrown crossguard.
There was no doubt in Arakiel’s mind that this was the same person as depicted in the statue. This was King Cahir, their penultimate trial for this plane. He was not yet aware who the ultimate trial would be.
The planeswalkers’ steps echoed softly throughout the partially illuminated throne room, their reverberations growing dimmer with each repeat until silence returned once more.
Arakiel and Ezekiel stood shoulder to shoulder, their seraphim whose aspects they wore right behind them.
Ezekiel’s grip tightened around his halberd’s shaft whereas Arakiel once again unsheathed his scimitar.
He suspected the seelie to be somewhere around him, watching, observing.
The sisters demanded a fight, so Arakiel and Ezekiel had to wait until the Middle royal was ready, however decrepit he may actually be.
King Cahir slowly got up from his position, his movements slow, sluggish… but persistent. The knight leaned onto his blade and it took him over half a minute to get up, but get up he did.
When the king spoke, his voice initially sounded old, strained, decrepit, just like the seelie had claimed; yet that seemed to change with each word that he spoke almost like he regained a glint of long-lost vigor.
“Ahh… that fate would let me meet the murderers of my beloved queen… truly the only saving grace of it all.”