Priscilla sat at a table across from Sharazz, they spoke in depth about the past and the present while they enjoyed a meal of freshly grilled meat and tender vegetables. Sharazz laughed as she enjoyed Priscilla's company, her face nestled into her hands as she held herself upright. Priscilla's stories made her emotional, the tales of wickedness brought to life through her narration sent chills down her spine, but also made her feel a tenderness for the girl. Despite such struggles, she's still here fighting for a better life. It was rather inspiring to the woman.
As they spoke Priscilla also learned about the friend Sharazz spoke of, the man was actual Bi'Sha from the Bishamon Merchant Company, a bigshot even before she had left the Empire. He was one of the only ones that didn't attend her execution. Compared to the other pampered merchants that jeered and scoffed at her pain, he seemed like a better man by default, even if she hadn't met him yet.
She also found out how the Empire had denigrated the 'barbarians' with added zealousness, instigating several small and large conflicts over the past few years since they burned her. The more she heard the more she realized how the bloodthirst of those creatures must be influencing the Empire as a whole. 'Is it the Emperor... or the whole family perhaps? Is that why father was in the visions?' she thought questioning to herself what might be. But she had to shake it off, it was futile to spend time on what might be, she had to go anyways. She would find out herself.
Talking to Sharazz she found herself feeling a familiarity, a reminiscence that made her think of Zae-Rin, all alone and trapped in that lifeless space. It gave her a melancholic feel in her gut, she wanted to talk to Rin again, but she didn't know how she'd get back to her nor how she'd help her. Priscilla sighed as she chewed on the food in front of her. Despite her sadness it really did taste good.
''Damn that smells good!'' Jensen's voice sounded as he entered into the lounge room they were sat in, with Hallie by his side. They were both bandaged up, but perfectly fine outside of some superficial wounds and cuts from the creature's onslaught prior. They sat down and Jensen grabbed a piece of the meat off of Priscilla's plate with great satisfaction. He looked towards Sharazz with mixed emotions. ''You know about that monster, right?'' he asked.
She looked at him with unbothered eyes. ''Him? Not in particular, but I have heard of 'them'. Those who worship Divala as a Saint, and not the demon that he is.''
''I just didn't know they'd spread so deep. They used to simply be lunatics who spread the gospel madly, traveling the land and preaching.''
''So they're wormed their way into the Empire, all the way to the top seemingly, without making a peep?'' Jensen asked unconvinced. He slammed his fist down against the table. ''That wretched bastard still needs to pay for what he did to Jared and Ferro.'' he spoke through clenched teeth.
''Well, if you want revenge why not ask the Princess over here.'' Sharazz said with a smile as she gestured towards Priscilla. Jensen and Hallie both gazed wide-eyed and confused, even Priscilla as well felt shocked that the woman would just blurt it out seemingly without restraint.
''Princess?'' they asked in unison.
''Duchess Valentine, if not a Princess, what else would she be?'' Sharazz giggled innocently.
''Sharazz!'' Priscilla said sharply. Which caused the woman to burst out laughing.
The two were stumped by the conversation, but soon realized the truth of the matter. 'The deceased daughter of House Valentine.' their mouths dropped in shock and trepidation. 'Are we in the presence of a ghost.' they thought. Jensen leaned in half his body over the table, poking his finger at her arm. ''She's real!'' he said somewhat seriously. Which really made Sharazz burst out laughing. In Priscilla's mind her dignified charm seemed to drown and vanish into the sands that surrounded the city.
Before they could continue their talk, the sound of drumming thundered across the city. One of the tribesmen burst in through the door of Sharazz's lounge, ignoring any semblance of decorum and protocol. ''Matriarch!'' he yelled in panic. ''The Imperial's are swarming in large numbers, the border has fallen!''
''What?'' Sharazz questioned in disbelief. ''How is that possible? Where's the guardians? How many are there?''
''Thousands! The horizon is blinded by their presence! We don't know what happened to the guardians, but it seems... they've all fallen!'' he muttered in concern.
''What happened, Sharazz?'' Priscilla questioned, not understanding the tribal tongue.
''The Imperial's are sieging the city. Thousands of them. The border has fallen, and all my guardians have vanished.'' she muttered coldly as she glared out of the lounge room in the direction of the city gates.
''It must be that monster!'' Jensen uttered in anger, thinking of that hulking titan.
''Ring the bells!'' Sharazz said to the man that reported the siege. ''Send the young an feeble to the inner core, and have the rest proceed with the defense. I'll be coming soon.'' she ordered.
The Empire had always considered the sand tribes to be nothing more than brutes, fools, and barbarians not worth the effort it took to rid them from the land. Yet they were the ones who knew the land the best and the longest. They had backup plans for most situations that they thought might happen in the future, and this was but one of them. Once the order to retreat was given and the bells rang the people who weren't suitable for combat or support moved united towards the core of the city towards a winding path leading them away from the conflict. Meanwhile the combatants steadied themselves as they readied the catapults that lined the fortified walls of the city, and prepared their warhorses for the battle to come.
When it came to their cavalry they had the utmost confidence, if the Empire had the nerve to truly encroach all the way to their city gates, they would be in for some punishment. The men were skilled and swift with their hands, but ultimately the Empire was a little bit quicker, before they could truly prepare everything the thousands of cavalry and infantry approached. Imperial soldiers notched their arrows, and fired a volley of arrows that darkened the sky above. A hellish storm brewed as the rain fell heavily onto the city walls and beyond, the combatants ducked and dodged under cover, some were unfortunate and were pierced through. These were just minor numbers however, as the majority was safe. The tribesmen on the walls let loose the catapults, sending large boulders flying towards the swarming mass of Imperial soldiers, crushing dozens of them under the mighty force of its impact.
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Shallow wounds on a giant however, as the sheer number covered those gaps within mere moments. One of the tribal captains whistled in a unique pitch, as the city gate opened and a flood of cavalry poured out, screaming and flailing their spears and lances. In the back more horsemen came out, hiding bows and scimitars that they could use for sneak attacks and to clean up stragglers. The cavalry made way and rushed at the Imperial side without fear, their weapons clashing as the Imperial cavalry broke free of the formation just the same. The horses neighed fiercely as their riders charged into the fray. The horses were brave, just like the men who tossed their lives into a whirlwind of death, for the sake of their people.
War was but grime blanketing the sand as it swept up the beauty underneath its viscous shell. Bodies fell— both of man and horse alike. Their lifeless eyes gazing out at their comrades wading the tides of battle in their place. Would it do them any good in the beyond? None could genuinely say, but faith in their people was something born onto them from the start. Catapults refilled and launched, forming craters along the sand filled with the flesh and gore of enemies fallen, yet it seemed futile as their numbers swelled each time the tribe made a move.
As the battle escalated into a deathly parade, Sharazz rode in on her white steed, wielding her signature crescent blade with Priscilla sitting behind her. Next to them another black steed rode with Jensen and Hallie. The Matriarch showed her dignity as she rode into the battle with style, motivating her people into a passionate frenzy as she invoked their righteous dignity. Her blade swept through the crowd with ease, severing the heads off their necks with a graceful arc before they landed into the sand, their blood staining it.
Priscilla watched with a detached indifference towards the death of the Empire's people. She couldn't care less if they died, or how miserable their death was. She knew logically that not all of them were terrible... but despite it, the things she endured because of them made it hard to see any of them in a better light, no matter how much she tried. She had far more appreciation for Sharazz's people and a desire to help them. But in war there was little she could do without putting her life on the line. And she would need to show off her powers, something she didn't feel the need for— just yet.
Were the Imperial's so desperate to eliminate the people of the sand? For the first time in countless years they fought with wanton abandon, no matter how many found themselves lifeless grains among the sand, they still persisted ruthlessly— charging in without stop. 'Were they sick in the head?' Sharazz and the others thought. Seeing their assault felt both sinister and concerning. As the numbers dwindled somewhat, a thought entered into Sharazz's mind. 'Who... is leading the assault?'
''BE CAREFUL!'' she roared as her eyes sprinted across the swarm of Imperial invaders. It didn't cross her mind before in the suddenness of their attack, but where was the commander? A general? Anyone in charge? The soldiers couldn't be attacking on their own! 'Dammit.' the thought just crossed her mind, when the soldiers began to burst at the seams, their flesh erupting and splattering the tribes people with such force that they felt their heads spin and bones break. Their horses battered by the barrage neighed heinously as they kicked and stirred a fuss, knocking several of the riders down onto the sand. Even— crushing some, in extreme instances closest to the impacts.
''What a perceptive sand witch.'' a familiar voice spoke, sending Sharazz's expression into a chill. Jensen scowled furiously not too far from her as he recognized it too. 'So that's why there was no commander.' the woman thought, as she turned into the far east corner of the siege, where appeared. The man rode on a large armored steed adorned in jutting spikes that matched his own armor. He was in his 'human' form, which was a surprise to the ones who knew about his monstrous side. Was it a good thing? Or a bad thing? That was something they couldn't guess. Behind the man a woman sat in a long black gown that flourished beautifully, cutting into a v-shape that opened across her chest revealing her bosom slightly. She had an enchanting appearance that could rival even Sharazz's, yet her eyes had an icy coldness in them, that chilled their hearts as they looked into her face. Priscilla looked at her with an odd familiarity... something about her seemed to resonate in the back of her mind. 'Do I know her...?' she thought.
It was then when Jensen uttered with mixed emotions. ''Lady Bellum! Is that why the guards went crazy in the town— was it because of you!?'' he exclaimed fiercely as he stared at the woman's chilling eyes.
''Lady Bellum?'' Priscilla and Sharazz both questioned. ''The traveling Goddess of the Azure Dance Troupe...''
''I see— so the cult's influence has truly seeped into every stretch of the continent, you madmen. Do you truly wish to see this world brought to ruin?'' Sharazz questioned with a calm that shrouded the fury she felt inside.
''There can not be rebirth without a bit of destruction!'' Auror said proudly, with a thump to his chest as he pounded it with his fist. ''THIS WORLD IS DIRT! WITHOUT DIVALA NONE DESERVE IT!'' he roared.
''You call us mad...'' Lady Bellum giggled before she craned her neck hard to the side, her icy eyes widening with fury. ''Do you want to see— true madness?'' she asked sweetly, yet the venomous tip on her words wafted a blatant fuming odour into the proverbial sky.
Her lips split at the seams to her ears, revealing an elongated tongue that curled up vilely as she smiled. Her beautiful icy eyes turned into a fiery crimson that glowed with malice. The pale white flesh on her body fizzled with toxicity as it took on a dull violet hue that spread all across her body. Even her limbs stretched and thickened, forming something akin to blackened scales that enveloped her torso and limbs not unlike a demonic gown that befit her wickedness.
''Not enough...?'' she chuckled, her voice echoing in several different pitches all at once. ''How about some more. You can never have too much madness— can you?'' her sarcasm was putrid and off-putting, but her actions left everyone too stunned for words or action. The woman— if one could call her that, screamed. Her voice reverberating across the sand as it stirred in the hearts of the surviving Imperial soldiers. Their bodies began to writhe and squirm— transforming again. Those monstrous abominations swallowed the vast stretch of landscape as the 'humans' dwindled down to only the ones on the tribes side. Their pale grey flesh glowed with a fiery sensation under the starlit illumination that fell upon them, only adding to the dangerous feel of their fanged and clawed appearance.
''Oh no— oh no! WE WANT MORE!'' Bellum laughed hysterically.
''Let's give them more, Banshee!'' Auror joined in, laughing just as hysterically as the woman. His body began to shift and transform not unlike the rest, his hulking mass bubbling against the armor and transforming into a flesh-like steel that accentuated the inhumane girth of his muscular form. His tri-horned head and snout-like face with jagged teeth scared even some of the bravest of the tribesmen as they looked at his depraved form. The man's horse squelched underneath him as its meat and bones fused into Auror's body, further expanding his already tree-like limbs.
''HOW'S THAT FOR MADNESS!?'' Banshee roared in hysterical laughter, twirling on the sand with ecstasy.
''Fuck.'' Sharazz uttered in the tribal dialect, but her words were so clear even Priscilla understood from behind her. 'Fuck' she echoed unknowingly in her thoughts as they both gazed up and down at the swarming sea of abominations before them.