One of the more infamous of magical races are the Sirenae. Their scientific name derived from their Lynean common name “siren” which was coined by scholar Loreial Von Ruthren. In the second chapter of his book: “Uncovering Truths from Folktales”; he described the striking similarities of over a hundred folk stories collected from coastal settlements all over Asmeon. Each describing a striking similar creature, half human half fish, which prowls rocky coastlines and enchants unwitting victims with their beautiful appearance and enchanting singing voice. Once enraptured, the unlucky human will follow them into the ocean depths, only to never be seen again.
His findings lead to the common belief that the Sirenae have presented a major threat to human settlements everywhere for centuries, and with this belief came the assumption that they hunted humans as a source of food. This was disproven recently by a study conducted at the Order of Ingemar. They found the practice to be more ritualistic, done to gain standing among their own kind or for simple entertainment. Their records showed sirens often keeping trophies of their victims. Skulls, pieces of hair or bone weaved into necklaces or parts of clothing and worn on the body as a way of showing off their kills.
Attempts have been made to reach out to the siren colonies living off the coast of both Astresh and Iberios, but none succeeded at making contact with these hostile beings. Still, killings by Sirens have declined rapidly during the previous century due to the efforts of several dragon orders to help inform local communities on methods to stay safe.
~ The History and Peoples of Magic by Sir Rainaldus Gale
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The smell of smoke and decay hung heavily in the air as Valerian took in what remained of the Northern slumps. It had taken three days for the fire to die down, leaving nothing but smoldering rubble behind. Soldiers and citizens rummaged through the area, clearing debris and recovering remains. He could hear soft cries as they uncovered loved ones, but overall a deadly silence ruled the area as an increasing amount of bodies were piled upon carts, destined for the mass grave outside of the city.
After all, infidels did not deserve a proper burial.
Another decision Valerian had made, which had been lauded by his father but had left the head of church in an unusual stillness. Perhaps even his black hole of a heart thought the prince had taken it too far. But, no matter his reservations, he hadn’t condemned the command. Why would he? Valerian had proven himself to be the ideal tool, willing and able to do their dirty work.
He must be licking his chops, thinking I finally lost my mind as well.
Surveying the ruins of the once lively community, guilt weighed down his conscience. He had caused all of this. Not his father, not the church, it was all due to him.
He didn’t allow the feelings to move him as he took a couple of deep breaths. Breaking down now would only waste the lives he had willingly sacrificed.
His mind flashed to when he had watched the fire grow into an inferno that devoured everything in its path. The scene had felt surreal from his vantage point within the castle and he had marveled at the fire’s destructive power. That was until the screams of anguish started. He was suddenly hit by the full implications of what he had done, and he had started to cry. Wailing for the suffering he had caused, or maybe for the innocence he had lost. But even in the throws of his despair, he forced himself to keep on watching as his precious city crumbled further under the force of the fire’s heat.
Milena had stood beside him stoically, seemingly unmoved by his outburst or by what was happening outside.
“Are you regretting it now?”
He remembered how her question had cut through the turmoil of his mind. Her lack of sympathy almost making him angry, as he wished that she could have been the warm mother figure he remembered, just this once. Still, he had answered without hesitation. His voice so frigid that he barely recognized it as his own.
“No. It is for the better of all.”
His tears had suddenly dried, as if voicing his lack of remorse, had made it sink in that he had no right to pity himself like this. With the despair and anger gone, he had felt hollow, as if he had lost a piece of himself. Maybe he had finally succumbed to his family’s curse.
Milena, however, had responded by chuckling softly, a sound tainted by a hint of madness.
“You sound like a King.”
Those words had haunted him through the following days. Though he doubted that she had made the comment in good faith, he couldn’t help grasping onto it as a lifeline.
After years of following his father’s orders and looking on as he drove their country to ruin, he had finally taken action. Valerian had finally turned into a king, not the one his people would have wanted, but one they desperately needed.
“Tell them to start clearing out the rubble. I want any trace of these heretics to be gone by the end of the week.”
He made sure to sound uncaring as he reminded them that it had been the Pleberien faith that had caused their celebrations to be marred by loss. The church had wanted this neighborhood of disbelievers to be punished, and Valerian, as the madly pious prince he was, had just tried to act upon the will of god.
“I will, my Prince.”
The captain of the city guard bowed deeply as he responded. His voice shaking due to fright.
There was a certain power to seeing one tremble before you, and Valerian understood now how rulers could turn tyrannical. It was easier to frighten the masses than it was to please their ever-changing opinions.
“Good. I will return to make sure my commands were followed.”
“Thank you, your excellence. We won’t disappoint you.”
The groveling, however, Valerian could do without. Not wanting to waste any more time, he turned to find the soldier holding his steed before bothering to answer.
“I trust you won’t.”
Rising himself into his saddle, he threw one final glance at the bleeding wound he had created within Lynoës. A similar one seemed to exist within his soul, but rather than try and mend it, he rode off. Leaving both civilians and soldiers to glare at his back.
Rain drizzled down, soaking his cloak as he rode along the main road back to the castle. The streets were strangely deserted but for the guards following him. The exuberant atmosphere of the midsummer festival had been snuffed out, leaving barely a trace behind. All that was left were some flags, and debris from carts or market stalls, those too damaged for their owners to bother saving. Only one thing looked out of place in this scenery of grief. The planters which had previously been filled with deep purple, yellow, or red violets, had been changed to hold a humble white flower. Silver poppies were normally seen as too plain and common, more of a weed than flowers to decorate one's house with. Seeing so many now, couldn’t be a coincidence. Especially with the flower being the symbol of the Valkyrea family.
Stories of how she and other rebels had crossed the bridge to help the unfortunate souls trapped within the fire, had reached even his ears. They spoke of her courage and also her disfigured face, a testament to what the royal family had done to her.
No one told him, but Valerian suspected that rumors were flying about the cruelty of the royal house and how the honorable Valkyrea family hadn’t deserved the faith they had received.
The flowers were a sign of the changing sentiments within his people. A silent support for the woman they had once forsaken.
Arriving at the castle, he swiftly handed his horse to one of the stable boys. In a hurry, so he could change out of his wet clothes and bathe the stench of dead bodies away. But this plan was put on hold, as one of his father’s servants approached him when he entered. Informing him, that his presence was required urgently by the king.
Although he was disappointed that his bath would have to wait, he couldn’t help but be curious about this sudden meeting. Thanking the servant, he made his way to his father’s office. Entering the smaller space, he was welcomed by the excited chattering of his father to two robed figures and the head of church. On the table laid a stone, white in color with an opulent sheen to it. For some reason, just seeing it made shivers travel up his spine.
“There you are. I was wondering what took you so long. Come sit, there is great news.”
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It had been a long time since he had seen his father this joyful and he couldn’t help but dread the reason why. Sitting down he greeted the other attendees before turning to his father.
“I assume the news has to do with whatever the stone is?”
The King’s grin grew even wider as he nodded.
“They did it, Valerian. The church found a way to break magic!”
His father had become easy to fool in these recent years and Valerian would have laughed, if not for that sinking feeling in his stomach. Quickly plastering an enthusiastic smile on his face, he turned towards the robed men.
“That is amazing news. I must admit that I had been skeptical about it even being possible, but I should have believed that God would lead your hands. How does it work?”
One of the robed figures, an older man with salt and pepper grey hair, smiled courteously before picking up the stone.
“We were about to demonstrate its power to your majesties.”
Valerian glanced at his father who nodded eagerly for them to continue. It was clear that he didn’t share his nervousness. Had he forgotten that they both had magic as well? What if the stone would affect them?
His attention was drawn to the second-robed figure, who laid a magic stone on the table and caused it to create a small dome-shaped barrier upon the desk. Valerian frowned for only one of magic was able to activate a magic stone. Looking closely at the second man, he could see that he was a fair bit younger, barely not a child, with pale skin and darkened eyes as his pupils seemed permanently dilated. One of the punished if he would hazard a guess. Sometimes the church decided that children of magic could be saved from their sins by living in servitude to their institution.
He wondered how many such children now dwelled in their churches. Enough for an army perhaps?
“I have never seen a barrier before.”
His father remarked in curiosity, before touching the barrier with his finger. As expected he wasn’t able to poke into the shimmering veil, the sheer blue and purple shades only rippling under the pressure as if he was touching water.
Valerian had only known of one other barrier in his lifetime, the one protecting the dragon order beneath the city. Only that one was invisible and he had barely been able to feel its presence.
“We made some adjustments to ease our demonstration.”
The older man answered his implied question as he grabbed the stone and pushed it against the barrier. At first, nothing happened, but then the barrier grew feint and gave way, letting his hand through without injury. As if the barrier had never been there in the first place.
Valerian’s mouth felt dry as he desperately tried to swallow his panic. Thankfully his father’s enthusiastic clapping had distracted anyone from his lapse in composure. The king’s eyes gleaming in awe as he loudly spoke to them.
“Magnificent! We can finally get to those rats in the catacombs. How many of them do you have?”
The head of church smiled as the two robed figures stopped their demonstration.
“This is just a prototype, the final version will be even stronger. As for how many we have now, only a handful.”
His father’s gleeful expression dulled as he turned sullen.
“What are you doing here wasting my time then? Go make more and only come back when there are enough to supply an army!”
The head priest stiffened, clearly not amused by his disrespect.
“I thought you might have wanted to be enlightened to our progress. Besides, making more is not a hard process now that we have accomplished the making of one.”
Valerian shared a look with his father, who had hidden his emotions once again. Still, he knew that the King must be wondering the same thing as him. They wouldn’t have come in person to share this news if it wasn’t to ask his father for a favor. So what was it that the church wanted?
“Is that so? Good, then I expect you to enlighten me further, soon.”
Using the priest’s own words, his father dismissed them from their conversation. A clear push to get the men to confess to the real reasons as to why they were here or to leave empty-handed.
None of the trio moved, until the Head of Church shifted in his chair, leaning backwards with his hands folded on his bulging stomach. His lips pouted as he chose his following words carefully.
“Excuse me for my impertinence, but there is one more matter I need to discuss with your Highnesses before we can go back to work.”
The priest’s gaze shifted towards Valerian before quickly returning to his father, a smile curling the corners of his mouth.
Valerian felt uneasy at them pointedly including him in this conversation. As his father’s heir, he was seldom addressed directly when the King was present. After all, it was his father who would have the final say in their decisions.
“Which is?”
King Morto asked expectantly, evidently getting impatient as the man kept on stalling their conversation.
“The creation of these stones comes at a great cost to us. Although we have your promise to support us in our cause, we are both aware that our alliance wouldn’t have existed if your hand hadn’t been forced.”
Tension hung between the three of them, causing the lower-ranked priest to shift nervously while his acolyte sat silently with that same distant stare.
As his father didn’t give him a response the Head of Church continued.
“You might understand that we want to be ensured that our alliance will stand, even after your Kingdom has been stabilized. Therefore, we request that both Your Highness as well as your heir would take an oath in blood.”
Of the many things Valerian had expected to roll off that forked tongue, he could have never predicted the priest’s actual request. His mind started to race, trying to summon all the information he had ever gathered about such a promise but all he could think of were the tales meant to precaution children against making them. He only knew that once made, they were unbreakable for those holding magic and that they were reserved for only the most dire of situations.
His father didn’t seem to share in his panic as he answered without hesitation.
“You can have my promise in blood if that soot’s your concerns, though I assure you it would be no different to my promise in words. However, you must be aware that it makes no sense for my son to undergo the same ritual. It is only effective on those with magical abilities.”
The King sounded slightly amused, as if mocking how ridiculous this request was and Valerian desperately tried to keep his composure as the Head Priest’s gaze landed back on him.
“I know. It is a matter of principle in his case. We want to help Your Majesty, but we don’t want all our efforts to be wasted when his highness takes the throne.”
The man scrutinized his face closely as he spoke, merry sparking in those murky brown eyes. The church suspected his deepest secret, and if he showed even a trace of his nervousness, he would have given them the proof that they so desperately wanted. He couldn’t let that happen and taking a note out of his father's handbook, he pulled his face into an offended glower.
“I stand with our God, how dare you suggest that I would betray the church and his disciples? I am not participating in some sort of pointless heretic ritual. If my words don’t convince you, then you should trust that God All Mighty will show you my true loyalty.”
Shock registered on the older man’s face at the strength of his reaction, but he quickly smiled apologetically.
“I did not want to offend you, my Prince. Though you surely understand our plight? Perhaps you can see it as a way to show your devotion.”
Irritation mingled with anxiety made it hard for him to keep his cool, but before he could reply, his father cut in.
“Forgive my son, he still holds the temper of youth. The Pleberien Church has nothing to worry about. We will pledge our loyalty in blood as you wish.”
The Priest before them smirked triumphantly as betrayal burned through Valerian. He couldn’t believe his father had so easily agreed to this. However, he hadn’t finished speaking yet.
“We shall do so, but only after you have shown the truth of your own words. A blood promise would be worthless to ask of you, so I ask you to prove yourself through your actions instead. Remove the resistance from our lands and we will pledge our loyalty to you.”
The Head Priest’s face fell and Valerian stared at his father, his head reeling. After all the nonsensical decisions as of late, he had forgotten that his father had once been a great King hailed for his tact. By accepting the priest’s request so openly, he had almost forced the man to do the same for his own request.
“Of course, see it done my Lord.”
The Priest’s face looked as if he had sucked on a lemon as he quickly stood, waving his two companions to follow.
“Knowing this, we can return to work in peace. I will see you soon, my Lord.”
Valerian had rarely seen the man walk that fast, as he swiftly left the room leaving his father and him on their own.
“Arrogant bastard must have thought me a fool.”
It was rare for Valerian to hear his father curse, but his carefully managed mask had slipped to reveal the anger underneath.
“They have some nerve to try and make us take a blood promise while we have no way of keeping them accountable to their side of the bargain.”
Valerian struggled to find his tongue, still shocked by the fact that his father had agreed to such a thing. Even with the requirement of the resistance being extinguished.
“Do you really plan to hold us to that promise?”
He finally asked doubtfully. Scared for the answer he might receive.
His father just pointed at his wine glass and Valerian stood up to grab the carafe of wine without question.
“Our priority is to remove the resistance. With the blood oath as a prize, the church will make sure to get it done. It will also give us a chance to see the Ligerians in action, to see if they are as good as they are claimed to be. If they are, then it would be good for us to be aligned securely with the Pleberien church.”
Valerian tightened his jaws in frustration as he filled his father’s glass to the top. He could see the rationality in his father’s words. If they are as good as they state and they are capable of conquering the South, then it would be good for them to be allies. Still, Valerian couldn’t help but be repulsed by the idea of becoming their puppet king.
“Father, you know that it is wrong. We should resist them before they spread their evil to other lands.”
The King sipped his wine, seemingly unbothered by his son’s plea. But for once Valerian didn’t just leave the room when he got ignored.
“I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”
His father sighed after another sip and looked burdened as he answered without looking at him.
“I can and I will, for else you will die. I thought that you had finally learned to accept the reality, boy. Be an adult Valerian, and finally learn that dying for your morals will not help anyone. It is not noble, and nothing to be proud of. You will be dead, and others will be left to pick up the pieces.”
It didn’t seem as if his father was speaking about him anymore and his mind conquered up an image of Lidea standing at the pyre. His father was wrong, he knew it but the King was too far gone to ever accept that fact. For it would mean that he killed his best friend for nothing. Taking another deep breath, Valerian hid his true feelings as he answered.
“My apologies, my King.”
Instead of appeased, King Morto frowned as he studied his son’s face before he sighed.
“Good, now go wash yourself. You stink of death.”