"There is a time for action and a time for in-action. To recognize these qualities makes a true Knight. What you must temper is your anger, turn it into a weapon - or just have it trim your tongue somewhat. It may make my day better. Now again.[/i]" Freda twirled her spear around in her grasp, her boots crunching into the sand. It was the sunniest day she had ever seen in the North, though it was not warm it was at least pleasant. A sunny morning did greet them.

Fighting a swordsman with a spear was hardly a fair tournament especially with one so-skilled as Kenneth. She almost felt pity. He charged one last time, he was already covered in sand and partly wet from when the tide lashed up a lot further than it should have. Still! His vigour was outstanding, for one so small, he fought with the fury of the Phoenix itself at times but was too sloppy to be any use to anyone. He might survive with her, at least. Bait probably. Freda went right, then left, around and...

...Thud. Ken hit the ground once more, his sword long lost into the distance as she disarmed him, the point poking against his throat. This was no ordinary spear that she carried, it was made of what was called "An'drosa-acan." Or simply, anti-metal in the common tongue. Presented to her at Knighthood as to act as her trusted weapon of honour and justice. The metal itself was a non-ferrous, lacking the ability to rust as well as having a very strange warping affect too any magic at all - it was prized for this but it was never the sharpest material. However, it was strong, sturdy, trustworthy - Freda could depend on her spear and shield to get her through any battle. Or just vehement prayer before hand. On the other hand, Spears were her speciality and she enjoyed to flaunt it, especially one as arrogant as this boy - seems he had nothing to say, either, where Freda just grinned in place, tapping at his cheek with the ball-point at the opposing end of her spear, she never gloated but this was always routine; "Again, again. You waste my time and your own. Get up before you're washed away and get the horses ready, we're at least a two day ride out from Lowburg now. Whatever darkness ahead has passed, I have seen it in the flames." She nods her head, reminding herself of the vision. It was clouded and dark, but it sprung light soon after. It was nothing much but her dreams have always had... some truth to them. As if the future unravelled before her eyes. To others it'd be nonsense but she had grown fond of them - sleep was more comforting, amongst the vivid memories and those long past; she had never told anyone, only that some predictions have come true. Of course this has caused issues in the past, but few rarely question one of anointed blood. Those who matter at least.

Twenty minutes later...

Flowing wind struck her fiery red hair, only now did she notice how harsh the wind had become in such a short time - likely from the height she was at? Or was the beach just that much more pleasant. Up here it felt as if the North had really come, or was it just winter setting in? Perhaps it was nothing though given how Kenneth had ceased talking and huddled up on his mare it was probably the correct assumption. Urging her horse onwards and her hood up she kept up a slow trot forward. Something was uneasy, enough to want to grab onto a weapon for protection, which she did, readying her spear and shield whilst turning her horse around to face the threat - which was just the wind. The horizon was empty, even if a gigantic black mass stuck in the sky over where they had came from, a blight of darkness had seeped out from the Marsh and corrupted the land beyond it. As if...

"No." Was all she could utter, fear and fury filling her heart. She prayed immediately for her brothers and sisters in arms, knowing her mission was necessary more than ever. Even Kenneth knew, he saw it with wide eyes and asked with a shaky tone, his horse sharred the same demeanour; "I-Is it... really? But-... but they're all dead. R-Right? We killed them all."

"Not all of them, it appears." Freda concluded. "Our mission is more dire than ever. The sooner we march at this threat the better. They... seem to have stopped. Perhaps they will not progress much further? Shoring up lines for their invasion. This-..." Her voice broke, gasping. She closed her eyes and snarled, quickly lowering her cavalier's heater shield back down and put her spear into the stirrups on the convenient little hole that sat there.
Her immediate and very first action after this was to set her horse off into a brisk dash, she had to make time. Had to get there. Had to save them all...

Kenneth, shrieking in the background, followed on. Probably stopping to finish peeing, Freda concluded with a scoff.

Chapter 12: Storming the walls

Arrows continued to incessantly whistle off from the walls, digging into their struggling targets below. The Raylians were falling in droves, hundreds were either dead or wounded and they were now climbing over their fallen littering the trenches to advance any farther. Pockets of men had successfully made their way across the trenches but had been forced to form up in small defensive shieldwalls to protect themselvs against the unrelenting volleys. Leofric had asked for a chair to be brought up to the walls, and he was boldly sitting with his feet thrown up and crossed over the wall while carving away pieces of an apple with a knife as he followed the carnage in the fields. He brought up the knife with a slice of apple and bit it off the blade, twitching a frown - something inhuman seemed to drive the enemy onwards. They had no way of breaching the wall now with their siege weapons out of commission, and yet they were trying to storm the walls, only to die. Perhaps their officers had been amongst the first to fall, leaving the rest disorganized and without orders - so they continued to do what their mission was, or they were still expecting their superiors to call out instructions.

He remembered the reports about the Raylian "auxiliaries", their horde of controlled undead, and felt his anger build up. Anger towards Raylia, towards magic, but most of all - Valentus. Still, so far there had been no sight of the walking dead. Leofric felt a pinch of unease from their lack of presence. If they weren't here, then where were they? Eventually he lowered his feet to rise up from his seat. He raised his hand and gestured for the archers to stop.

"Hold!"

The volleys ceased. All that could be heard now was the agonizing cries of the injured and the raging fire tearing the town asunder, but to Leofric's relief much of the flames had been extinguished by the designated fire brigade. Granted, much of the town had been damaged by the fires, some weaker buildings were on the brink of total collapse. Leofric sighed and made his way to the center of the wall and turned to face the fields. There were still hundreds of enemy soldiers out there, but they had stopped in their tracks, perhaps realising the futility of pressing their assault. He leaned forward and grabbed the edge of the wall, confident that the Raylians would not recognise him as king. After all, he wore no crown and his armor could easily distinguish him as a higher-up officer. "Who amongst you is in charge! Is there even an officer left alive down there?" he bellowed to the battered Raylians, waiting for a response. For a few moments nobody moved, until a man finally stepped out in the open, adorned in a delicate suit of plate armor. "I suppose that would be me! Who am I talking to?"

"The man who just crushed your feeble attempt to conquer this town! Look around you, whoever you are! Your comrades are dead by the hundreds and your siege weapons are destroyed! It is hopeless to continue this assault, you cannot win this battle!" Leofric shouted back.

"Her Grace, Queen Anne of Raylia, has ordered us to take this land! To make your king pay for his crimes! We will not back down, and never surrender to dogs such as you!"

Leofric stared back at the man with a deadpan expression for a few long moments. He suspected the man he spoke to was a knight of some sort, and he definitely did not recognise the king of the Northlands. Leofric took to words again, calmer and quieter. "Are you mad? You do realise that we will just kill hundreds more of you if you try again? Look! You haven't even reached the walls yet!" his voice raised again, and Leofric gestured with a hand to indicate the untouched ground below. The enemy had never truly gotten close. The trenches had stopped them good. Leofric noticed some of the Raylians were anxiously glancing around them, evidently distrught and demoralized by the sea of dead comrades around them, at the cost of practically nothing for their enemy. "Go home! Tell your queen that we'll hold no grudges! Let's end this unnecessary bloodshed."

"Never! I would rather die than disgrace my queen in such a cowardly act!"

"Perfect." Leofric muttered to himself and turned to the nearest guardsman. He grabbed the longbow from the man's hands and plucked an arrow from the quiver over his back. He knocked the arrow and twisted back to the knightly man in the fields. He raised the bow, drew back the string and fired quickly after. The Raylian never had the chance to react before the iron-tipped arrowhead pierced him between the eyes. He collapsed in a rattle of weapons and armor. Leofric extended the bow back to the guardsman who took it with reverence. The king had just kiled a man with his weapon.

"If they won't turn tail and run then we'll force them to. Shoot them down."

Shouts and cries emitted from the Raylian force as they were once again beset by hundreds of arrows, collapsing in scores and tripping over the already fallen bodies.

The wound kept stinging. Eliana had gotten used to pain, though. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt; she was just able to actually focus on the situation at hand. The noises outside could still be heard, and it seemed the fire had been kept under control. Eliana looked to Miriam, and watched the two others leave, not saying a word herself. She grunted one last time, and looked up at Miriam once again.

“We?” Eliana asked surprised. She knew that she had saved Miriam, and Miriam had most likely saved her, but her mind was set on Louisa. Eliana looked around, sighing. She had no clue how long she had been out. And if there was fighting outside, the nobles were most likely gone already. Ellie was helped up by Miriam, but took a few steps on her own, towards the window.

“I uh-… Was supposed to catch up with someone.” Eliana nodded, supporting herself.

She looked out the window, and began making her way to the door. With a careful peak, she looked outside. The sign of chaos was clear, though it seemed to have settled. The gate to the city had been closed, and from what she could see in her blurry vision, a large number of soldiers had placed themselves upon the tall wall.

She was able to spot a house by the side of the wall, seemingly abandoned. As Louisa was most likely out of reach, Eliana would have to return to her other duties. The shoulder still hurt, sure, but Lowburg was at risk of getting overwhelmed if there was in fact a war going on outside the walls. Whilst taking a glance at the house, and the wall, she quickly came to realize she wouldn’t be able to simply walk out of it, not in this world or another. With a swift turn, only stumbling a little, she looked to the counter. Perhaps the tunnel wasn’t such a bad idea? She had a feeling Miriam was not about to run off without Eliana, since she had had that opportunity. Either the rumours had been false, or Eliana had been lucky to run into the few nice people in the North.

She made her way towards the counter, doing fine with her walking. She only stumbled a few times. Something suddenly flashed before her eyes, almost knocking her off her feet, but she shook it off. Miriam hadn’t seemed to react. Eliana took in a deep breath.

“I swear to It, I’m going nuts.” She almost angrily muttered to herself. She looked over her shoulder at Miriam, before making her way into the tunnel. It was dark and small, a real lovely place for anyone despising small areas. As they made their way deeper into it, the noises from outside became absent. After an unknown amount of time, the tunnel came to an end. Eliana pushed the door open, and was helped up by Anathema and the young Theodore. They were somewhere out of the town, the tunnel ending just outside the wall. The fighting was louder now. But it wasn’t as much fighting… More just… screaming. Eliana was lured towards it.

“Miriam. You all can go on and get out of here. I’ve got to look into some stuff.” Eliana strangely stumbled towards the battlefield.

Her mind felt heavy. Her eyes could not focus properly, and the world around her felt distant. Eliana could feel her legs wanting to give up on her. The pain in the shoulder had evolved throughout more of her body. It was hurting; warming her in an unusual way. And then another flash before her eyes. Without noticing, she had bitten her lower lip, just letting the blood feel the surface. She felt as if all her energy had been drained, but still something kept her going. An unknown force, maybe. The golden haired girl looked at her shoulder, so badly wanting to see what had happened. But she couldn’t. Not here, with the others still being able to see her. The dark magic that had embedded her shoulder, and possibly her body and mind, the people around her, the fighting – all of it were threats. Still, she was ultimately supposed to save them, along with her teacher who had been murdered by the very lambs he was trying to be the Shepard for.

Despicable. Their ignorance got themselves killed, their blind hatred for the unknown. Eliana had only made it a few meters ahead, not seeming to stop.

Miriam
Chapter 13: The struggling Crutch

With a light wave Miriam left Anathema behind, the woman folded her arms and looked past the huntress towards Eliana as she walked off.
"She's got ta do what she's got ta do - But you can still come wit' us, Miriam." Theodore nodded in blustering agreement and blurted out dramatically.
"You'll die!" Miriam only shrugged lazily and turned on her feet, she gave Leia a light nod and the dog started to walk next to her.
"By my count; that's the second time today, then." Miriam said with half a laugh and then turned to stroll on after Eliana. She could hear Anathema curse in her own language behind her before she and Theodore left hearing distance, and would no doubt find some safety with the rest of Lowburg's sane population. Eliana and Miriam, were clearly not a part of this designation.

It wasn't difficult to catch up with Ellie. The girl seemed very determined as she walked, but she still seemed far from recuperated and struggled despite her gritty expression. Miriam walked next to her right, and Leia walked further on Miriam's right. If Ellie was even aware of their presence was unclear as she simply kept hobbling forward towards whatever destination she was heading for. Honestly it didn't matter where she was going, Miriam had promised herself to help and even though she owed Eliana nothing she felt the urge that she was meant to at least be here. Miriam pocketed her hands inside her coat and leisurely walked next to the struggling Spirit-Walker, she took a moment to inspect the area around them. They had come out of the tunnel on the far side of the town, the area had been always been bleak and gray but this, Miriam felt, was overdoing it. Most of it was covered in a short sheet of ice and snow which seemed to suffocate the wet ground, patches of dull brown grass peaked out of the slim cover of cold but it was hardly an inspiring view. In the far distance one could see the gray outline which Miriam knew to be the Silent Woods. Also a very uninspiring vista to look at. Eerie one at that. Miriam almost missed the dead towns of the Marsh at this point. But then again, there were no interesting blonde girls in those towns, Miriam looked back to Eliana and tried to deduce where she was from. Judging by the dress, muddy and worn as it was, she was rich and most likely from the north. It was a simple enough design but it had the touch of finesse that only nobility wore. Her hair and face spoke differently though, there were few blondes in the north, the inhabitants here were all just like the mood of the nation, dark as night, or red as blood. Never golden like this. This Walker was truly an enigma, and she certainly wasn't an old man as Miriam had been told. Eventually Miriam tore her gaze off and looked ahead again, Leia barked happily and paused for a moment. They were travelling alongside the city perimeter and the walls that had been raised were coming into view as they were slowly approaching the southern edge of the town. The walls were blocking the view but sparks of fire could be seen over the edges, even though the inferno had undoubtedly died off. Before long they passed around the curved wall enough to catch sight of the southern side. Miriam twitched a discomforted face and let out one of her many scoffs which made her bangs sway. The land had been pelted by a rain of arrows which made the storm a few days ago look like a light drizzle. One could smell the reek of death and panic even from this distance and all over the ground the faint outlines of men scrambled and hurried for safety behind trenches, Miriam did not wish to see how the center of the field look like if this was only the edge. Instinctively she looked up at the ramparts and expected to be shot down but no arrow had come flying so far. She dropped her hands out of her pockets which made her flowing coat flap slightly, she then looked away from the battlefields and the walls towards Eliana.
"Now what?" She asked her with some hurry.

"Are you crazy!?" The accent was still too much. She felt like laughing it was nearly unbearable. "Who is this mad-woman? Who gave her a maillie-coat, too?" Freda's blank stare seemed to quell the man's anger, or that it went silent in the command tent. It was already past dark and Lowburg stood in the distance, the large palisade untouched and the carrion fields between were horrifying. This so-called leader of men clearly was more green than a meadow.
"I will say again, it is paramount you -speak- to this King. He is renowned to be fair in judgement and will -help-. I am telling you there is no way back. You must escape further and -help-. Death's Hand has risen again." The name itself sent shivers down her spine, Henry Kenneth was equally mortified but the wine he was given and empty stomach from all his vomiting had kept him quiet; a looming shadow behind her. Freda found it almost cute. Almost. That aside, mentioning the dreaded cult's name caused the officers to glance between each-other, a silent message going between them that was more eerie than reassuring. But she knew what response she was going to get.
"-I- will say again, 'Princess' Freda of Midway, I will not recall or aid you. I will remind you of the decade long conflict -your- father started with Queen Anne! Enough of this. You are not welcome in my camp nor are any of this false information. Your Order's word means nothing to me, nor does yours. Be-gone." The flatulent General twirled his fat sleeves and dismissed her like some common peasant. Her father would of cut off his hand in that instant but cooler heads prevailed here, so she simply bowed her head to the man-with-the-rolling-twang-accent and departed. She'd of cursed him to the flame if it was even worth the curse. Which it wasn't.

Freda grabbed Henry by the collar and dragged him out, not in the mood for it nor did he really mind, just going along pleasant whilst looking up at her starry eyed, asking the sweetest question he had been able to muster since Midway; "So... when are we making love? Now or lat-..." Freda's shoved him to the floor and into the sooty mud, not that he minded, just shouting back.
"Tonight, then! I'll keep you warm, Princess! Promise! I'll name our boy Leofric for the King!"Unable to contain her sigh of disappointment or the ringing of laughter echoing through the dreary and almost dead camp. Silence had fallen a few moments after as any semblance of fun or meaning had departed the place, departing would be all well and good but from the sight of the field-of-death before the gates she'd most likely be shot down before arriving a few feet from the first line of defences. Concluding it was not the best idea but it was the only idea present. Her missive was urgent and by chance she prayed all she had heard of this King was true because now was the time to test that theory.

At the hot gates...

It was a hard journey through the trenches and caltrops and leaving behind the horses was a huge risk, but there was little choice. She could faintly see through the gloom of the night Henry running with the horses to the Silent Woods, it was the best place for them and she most assuredly did not want him anywhere near anyone of importance. With a deep breath she held up the white banner on her spear, not that it was very visible in the dark but she just trusted in -not- being shot at, her white and red surcoat offering at least some distinction from a Ralyian foot-soldier, not that most foot-soldiers had the quality of garb she had.

Before long the gate-keeper shouted in a rough boom. "Halt right there, scum! Stare your business or be destroyed!" The words shot anxiety into her for whatever reason, watching life spring back into the garrison. On the other hand, given how many corpses littered the floors from here to the gate were more than enough to attribute to the affect.
"I am Freda Risley, of House Risley - Lords and Ladies of Midway and the Eastern Realm of the Middle Kingdoms! I come bearing urgent and dire news that I will only deliver to your King, by decree of my father, Lord Protector Alfred the Third and the Master of the Order of the Phoenix! I implore you to let me inside!" It took more heart than she could of imagined to say all of what she did but it came out naturally, even if apprehension seized her soon after - probably expecting to be littered with arrows from the sniggering coming from above from the gruff garrison; even some arrows were notched. Another voice greeted her this time, much to her luck. The voice of a High-born, she guessed.
"I hear you, Lady Risley! Open the gates, dim-witted fools! This one is no enemy of ours! Arrows notched! If you are betraying us, Lady Risley, I will send your head back to your father with a nail stamped into your forehead!" Northerners, Freda deduced, were far more rough than she liked. Just to make sure she was not being followed she turned around and checked her progress, scanning over the area behind her with a quick twist of her head whilst she heard the gates crunch through the mud and gravel, pulling backwards enough to let one person through - this one person was Freda. She made a quick jog towards the entrance with an immeasurable desire to get inside before any of these dead men decided to get up and start walking again.

One glance at Lowburg was enough to make her frown, going as far to doff her helmet and set it under her arm, leaving on the coif and hood of gambeson as she expected to put it back on again. Many of the men within stared the armoured woman down, the entire garrison roused at the sight of an entirely plated-warrior with breast-cuffs on the breastplate. Freda, once again, concluded it to different cultures and awaited to be addressed - not that anyone came in a hurry.

Not a soul said a word to anyone. It was silence and pointed pikes or drawn swords, these men were on edge. Even the gate nearly trapped her flowing cape behind her and that was only to her knees!

"Lady Risley. Dashing as ever, I see. The legends of Eastern women was not wrong. You arrive and an in-opportune time but I will take you to the King. He resides at the Keep in the far back. I will have to disarm you at the Keep, but for now it would just be rude. Pardon me from before - we're all on edge here. We've had some disturbing news come up from the distant Forts." The voice was of a Knight, one she had seen before - one that had came to her court quite some time ago, not that she remembered his name nor when it was. Too long ago. She offered little words other than a respectful gesture of offering out her plated fingers from her heart in a slow motion forward and a high bow, bending her head and keeling her back slightly in a very formal gesture. It was enough.

The men around them parted ways and went back to their camps dotted all around the walls, the place was alight with life and none of it was civilian. The damaged and burnt buildings were met with a frown, being left to ponder all of this in silence. All the answers could likely be answered but she remained to herself, being lead through the town of Lowburg.

It was quite the sight and now she had become the main attraction...

Chapter 13: Allies

The door to Leofric's chambers opened up and a soldier towered up in its entrance. "Lady Freda of House Risley wishes for an audience, sire." the man announced. Leofric sat in a chair by his desk on the opposite end of the room's entrance, partially leaning over the table while studying a large, splayed out map with various figured positioned throughout it.
"Yes, yes, tell them to wait." the king concisely replied before realising what the soldier had just said, looking up. "Risley? Well, send her in then."

Leofric patiently sat reclined into his chair while the armoured princess explained the situation to him. He had always enjoyed women with a fighting prowess, capable of looking after themselves, and this womanly royal was the prime example. He raised a hand to idly scratch his cheek as the highborn lady concluded her news. His eyes shifted between Freda and the war map upon the table and let out a silent sigh before taking to words.

"I understand your situation, Lady Freda. Truly, I do. But as you undoubtedly saw coming here I am in no position to help anyone. I have five hundred men in town - eight hundred if I add the guardsmen, and there are thousands of Raylians outside my walls who are not keen on stopping their attack. They hate us with a passion. They are never going to cooperate with us, and quite frankly, I'm not even entertaining the thought myself of working with them. So this is my offer to you, princess..." Leofric delays for a moment to take a new breath and leans forward, clasping his hands over the table. Eyes fixed upon the female. "I will help you with this cult, but in order for me to be able to do so I'm going to need your aid first. Go back to your comrades and march them here. Help me destroy the besieging Raylian army and I promise you that your country will receive the full backing of the Northlands. I am aware that this would risk plunging your two nations into war with one another, so if this is unacceptable to you then... I'm afraid you'll have to return back empty-handed."

Leofric narrowed his eyes somewhat, studying the princess's reaction. She appeared conflicted about the dilemma he had presented to her, but eventually she bowed her head lightly, her response bouncing off the chamber walls. "I...I accept. We will help you to dispose of the Raylian rabble in exchange for your support. I'm holding you to your word, majesty." The highborn lady's words were reluctant, and Leofric noticed the shadow of anxiety from her as well. He understood. It was no easy decision to make.

"And I to yours. I suspect the Raylians will construct new siege equipment after we destroyed their old ones. It should delay them for a day or two under which we're given our opportunity to strike. Naturally, they will continue to harass my walls in skirmishes to keep us pinned inside, but we'll sally out if you get here in time. Together we will crush them and scatter the survivors. Then you will have your support."

The king smiled thinly and reclined into his chair again, gesturing briefly with a hand to indicate the audience was at an end. The warrior princess inclined her head respectfully and uttered her gratitude before turning to depart the chambers. Leofric watched the door close behind her and then rose up from his seat. He made his way over to a window and glanced outside at the greying sky. For his sake he hoped that Lady Freda and her army arrived in time. For her sake he hoped that she'd arrive at all.

The darkness of the night had fallen upon the kingdom once again. Eliana stumbled forward with unwavering will. She was thrown out of her dizzy trance by Leia’s barking. The girl turned her head, scanning Miriam. With an uneasy balance she stopped, turning herself to answer Miriam.
“I said I had something to do. Go with the others.” She muttered out, standing still and observing Miriam. But the huntress and her companion stood their ground. It seemed they had no intentions of leaving.

“It’s alright. We’ll help.” She answered sternly. Eliana looked into Miriam’s eyes, doing her best to read them. Jonius had always attempted to teach her so, reading people. People in the Realm didn’t just help others for the sake of it, Eliana was sure of it. Miriam had to want something in return. Whether it was future help, or a simple adventure, or perhaps answer to a bigger question was unclear. Something in Eliana made her want to trust the huntress, but most of her refused to do so.

The wind had begun sailing across the steady landscape, passing through the battlefield and the surrounding city. In the distance, the faint screams continued. It was something that had always cut deep into her. The screams. The screams never did seem to change. A regular farmer, a nobleman, a knight, they all screamed the same way when death was upon them. Without answering, Eliana turned around, looking in the direction of the earlier battle. Once again, the frozen sensation consumed her. The call of the beyond was a curious feeling. It suggested giving up, letting go. Spirit-Walkers had to balance themselves on such a thin rope. Traveling into the Void and returning was like a nightmarish dream.

Eliana clutched the pendant in her hand, the one that had been given to her by Louisa. Ellie had hidden it under the ruined dress, along her upper chest. She looked at Miriam again, ever so carefully biting her lower lip. She was getting impatient, perhaps due to the pain in her shoulder or something entirely different. Ellie was running out of time. She couldn’t stand here all night, trying to convince the steadfast woman to leave.

Eliana simply shook her head, turning around and taking off again. But she only took a few steps before she dropped to her knees, placing her hands on her thighs and bowing her head down.
The young girl moved her hands in a series of motions in front of her, while muttering an incomprehensible language. Her eyes gave off a faint blue glow, and from the side of them the ethereal blue strings steadily wandered off, disappearing into the thin air a small distance from her face. Leia raised her ears, running in front of the Walker, sniffing her and barking at the unknown substance. Ellie’s eyes had opened up, but were filled with the spiritual glow.

The Void overtook the world around her, and a heavenly warmth filled Eliana, as her spirit wandered up from her body. It was soon exterminated by the cold and mysterious Void. The Spirit-Walker looked upon her shoulder, which simply lacked a part of the blue glowing figure she had become. She walked away, towards the calling.

Countless beaming lights were wandering aimlessly. There were hundreds of them. She took in a deep breath of nothingness, and held up her hand. The blue glow charged towards it, beaming as the sun in the west. She walked with a steady pace through the battlefield of death and decay. The lost spirits wandered towards her, with a bent back and loose arms. The looks on their faces were horrifying, and their pupils had become dark. They followed the beacon of light leading them forward. Eliana couldn’t count them. Some of them seemed so familiar, yet so strange.

The young woman stopped, already feeling drained. She grimaced, and once again viewed her shoulder. It had gone worse; the black essence had spread towards her chest and her arm, along with the pain.
She lowered her hand, stretching her arm and letting the energy part ways with her soul. The blue light flew forward, and began shaping something, opening up a rift in the Void. The opening had a heavenly glow, and stood patiently as the hundred of Raylian souls wandered into it. Eliana had never gone into it herself. It was dangerous, was all Jonius had told her.

The Spirit-Walker could feel the traveling taking its toll. She had become even weaker than before, and was running out of energy to keep the rift open. The souls still were wandering inside, when one stopped right in front of the young woman. It turned around, and looked upon her with its black pupils. At a fair height, most likely in it’s late forties when it had passed away.

It did not say a word, and simply turned around and wandered towards the rift. Just as the soul had entered, the rift collapsed, still with so many spirits wandering outside.

Miriam
Chapter 14: Patience, the lamest of virtues

Determination, Miriam concluded was the emotion that best fit a Spirit-Walker, and Ellie was full of it. Miriam had also considered faith, compassion and foolishness as candidates but after thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes or so; determination did seem to be the most appropriate. At least for Ellie, whom had simply sat there in some sort of trance this entire time. Miriam sat in front of the Spirit-Walker with crossed legs, leaning onto her own hands, Leia sat next to her, panting in happy idleness. They both watched Ellie and her oddly glowing eyes. She seemed to be strained, Miriam did not bother trying to imagine what the girl was doing that could be so difficult. Something magical, she bet. She just hoped it would be over soon, as it was getting quite cold and dreadfully boring here. Miriam drew her coat closer and shuddered, she glanced away from Eliana and looked at Leia instead, who returned the look with an innocently happy yap.
"What are you so happy about?" She asked glumly. Leia let out another happy yap and thumped her tail excitedly, Miriam smiled in return and pet the dog. "Yeah, I bet." She then leaned backwards and stretched her back slightly. Directly after this she skipped up unto her feet and began to pace about out of sheer boredom. "What are we even doing, girl?" She asked her non-vocal companion, who again only responded with a happy bark. Miriam scoffed at the response and shook her head. "Figured you'd say that." She complained before growing bored with that conversation as well, electing instead to scan the area. She spun from where they had come, north; seeing the walls of Lowburg on her left and frozen plains of drudgery on her right, Eliana sat closeby on the ground. She then spun East and spotted the wall of trees which signed the beginning of the haunted woods, quiet as their name would imply. She spun south and now saw the walls on her left, the battlefield lay before them and some no doubt strategically genius spiky balls lay closer than that, Miriam rolled her eyes and spun the last direction, west. A wall. "Excitement..." Miriam complained and groaned a sigh, Leia barked and pushed her head under Miriam's hand in demand of a pet. Miriam instinctively scratched the dog behind a shabby ear and struck a glum pout. After a moment of standing in the chilly climate she shuddered again and looked skywards.
"Walteer!" She shouted out, hoping that the mysterious old man would simply appear with the beckon and bring some excitement with him. Miriam lowered her head and looked around. No response except for the howl of the winter winds. She blinked and looked around again, waiting for him to appear in a dumb silence. After realizing the futility of her actions Miriam sighed and sunk back onto the ground with her legs crossed. She rested her chin on a propped up hand and looked back at Ellie in front of her where she sat in her strained coma. The girl twitched her shoulder often and Miriam wondered what had hurt her so. Could it have been whatever attacked her earlier as well? Probably not, since she wasn't suffering any pain of her own like that. She chalked it up to magic nonsense and moved on in her thoughts. She swung her bag around and opened its main flap to rummage through its contents. Then she remembered that most of her loot was still in Anathema's store.
"Uuugh." Miriam groaned and flopped her face unto the mostly empty bag in deprivation.

Time seemed to stand still, Miriam looked up at the bleak gray sky above them, it looked as if it was promising snow soon.
"Hurray.." Miriam muttered and shifted from where she lay with her back against her backpack. She looked up at the wooden walls of Lowburg, noticing something new, she narrowed her eyes. It was slim, dark and human? A person who was standing on the palisades. Presumably a guard, maybe he was going to take them for Raylians and shoot at them. Miriam wasn't awfully concerned, they were out of bow's reach here. She assumed, and it was not as if any troops would be out this way. Miriam scrambled up which roused the dozing Leia, Ellie remained comatose and boring. For a minute the huntress searched for an item in her bag, she produced the slender looking glass and then propped the nifty mechanism up against her eye to peer through its octagonal glass. She could get a proper eye on the walls now and she scanned across them to try and find the person she had seen before with her now zoomed in vision. Wooden walls and gray houses behind them, nothing of interest until... There. It was definitely a person. A figure at least. Didn't look like a guard but it did look somewhat familiar. Miriam twisted the center screw on the looking-glass and the vision became more focused. She looked through it again towards the figure she had seen. A few moments later she lowered the glass and for a moment looked around in grave silence. She then broke it with emphasized annoyance.
"Shit."

Freda leaned in against the wall, staring up at the dark sky of night. The vast ocean stretched on for miles, beyond imagination. Though... Freda's imagination drifted as did her sleep. Probably the boy forcing himself against her legs was enough to want to drift off into an otherworldly presence. Yet... as the last pinch of sunlight shone over the valley the armoured warrior gave in to sleep, resting her plated hand on the boy's head so he didn't get any ideas and drifted off...
Where Freda woke up, or what she perceived to be true existence, was not what it truly seemed; something was wrong. She stood in an ethereal palace, shining lights shone all around her and all of her arms, armour and wit were with her - it was... almost real. A voice broke the silence, one of an everlasting beauty to it. As ethereal as she was... "Champion... you are. Warrior of Faith. Your heart is true thus I bring you to my home. Seek what is righteous." The voice turned dark, warped and overall creepy... "Or return will never be an option! Aargh!" The room exploded in red and black, absorbing into the woman with a scream. Within seconds the blistering, damning pain was gone and all that was remained was the new world around her. Strange as it seemed, all of it was real. One swing through the air with her sword that was mysteriously drawn was enough. She felt the swing, the weight, the force. Everything... but something was wrong. She was... glowing black. Permeating the same darkness that some... mysterious figure bestowed upon her.
The only way to go was forward and into the ruins before her. Mapped out in all directions was a vast, vast beach and gargantuan trees - yet these stood in the distance and she was one of these so-called massive trees. The trees themselves breathed life, even she could feel it - this... was like nothing else she had seen, but it was real. She was sure of it. What of her real body? The questions piled up and she sought answers herself; pressing on into the abyss with a cry of her armour rattling.

Once she had descended down into the darkness a presence loomed on behind her, something just as dark as she was. A child's voice rippled out through the darkness, descending down the roots of the giant, massive, hollow tree? "Invader! Invader..!" The call echoed through the tree, which the tree seemed to recognize. There was no reaction before the tree itself started to shift and ripple, releasing freakish creatures from its bark - stick-like monstrosities made of bark and wood. Concluding her sword would just blunt, the Knight raced down the steps - running frantically, panting loudly in her descent. Reaching the end she saw creatures. Undead. They stalked the beach, prowling. Many were clad in primal clothing, furs and sea-shells - yet some bore noble-man's clothing like nothing ever seen before. Spiked armour of black with strange devices. Banners littered the beach all baring the same banners and what appeared to be a gigantic insect was feasting in the far, far distance - it was pretty hard to miss, after all.. Some even having sea-creature trophies. Were these the natives? Perhaps they were alive, she pondered. The assumption was squashed as they charged, letting out a disembodied roar as they charged. Now did she realise this was not real, her voice was disembodied. But all her actions were as if she was there. Perhaps this was not her body? Even when fighting she -tried- to figure this out.

Freda raised her sword for the first time in quite awhile and engaged them back, swinging her broadsword in an arc to cleave through one undead and then rammed into the other, swinging as it recoiled. They were easy enough to dispatch but swarms started to rise from the sands, the water rippling to reveal even-more. A creature grabbed at her arm! It tugged and writhed, absorbing the energy that coveted around her body. A weakness crept into her before the back-swing with her gauntlet was enough to smash its water-logged skull.
"What is this!?" Freda cried out, utterly surrounded in all directions. No-one answered her but she saw an opening... a way down. Freedom? She charged, using the weight of her armour and body to propel her through the Undead, smashing past them at the loss of almost all her energy and the dwindling energy that dwindled with every ounce of energy spent. The Knight tumbled, slamming into a rock construct under the sand and then down into wherever it opened. Freda screamed in her descent, falling deep into the earth before being dropped out onto a large plaza, landing with a harsh thud that surely should of killed her but... it was just as if she landed a step or two. What strength kept her here fed on the dark, she felt stronger - just as she did when she took the Undead's life. It is... as if she absorbed it?
"What is this foul magic!? Speak to me!" The frustrated and truly confused Knight spun her weapon around before her eyes went wide, she stood on a mountain of bones and pale, lifeless corpses on their knees, bowing endlessly. Enthralled, by a look. Freda closed her eyes, panting. She made her way over to the Undead only to be attacked, as she suspected. One good boot through the back was enough to send him tumbling down into the darkness, yet it hit hard rock very early. As if there was a small drop. Her eyes drifted out and adjusted.

"This... is a City? Bu-... What?"

Chapter 14: Arthur

The sweet, feminine giggle tingled through the empty hallway, ricocheting off the walls and seemed to emit from all directions at once. He wasn't sure where to start looking so he decided to continue forward through the vast, desolated hall with echoing footsteps. Grey and white marble pillars surrounded him on both sides and colourful windows decorated the walls behind them, letting in the sunlight rays from the outside world. He felt all too light, almost naked, but he confirmed that he was still dressed in his nobleman's ebon coat, grey trousers and high leather boots. The sensation was an odd and he twitched a frown but pressed onwards. He heard the high-pitched titter again, now around the corner on his right, leading out into onto a terrace. He stepped out and was met by a stunning, surreal view. Endless, spiraling towers rose up from an infinite highland that stretched as far as the eye could see with forested mountains in the far distance. He noticed that he was inside a similar structure himself, though larger, almost like a castle of sorts. But whoever he pursued was not out here.

"Arthur?" The sweet voice piped up again. Arthur turned on his heels only to be greeted by nothing, but he could hear vague high-heel steps ascending some stairs from the direction he had come from. He left the terrace and went back into the hallway and turned left this time. A stairwell circled up to another floor and he swiftly climbed the steps, ending up in a narrow corridor that branched off into every direction. Guest rooms, he thought to himself.

"This way, Arthur... I'm over here." The voice echoed again from everywhere, but Arthur knew exactly which way to go, as if he was being guided by an unseen hand. After navigating through the corridors he entered another large, empty room. Two thrones stood vacant on one side of the room with a single, enormous window behind them, granting an awe-inspiring view of the mystic landscape beyond the castle. He caught a figure moving between a set of pillars in the corner of his eye and twisted slightly on the spot to face it. He could now see the young, beautiful woman dancing around the pillars, dressed in a simple white nightgown with long, fiery hair flowing behind her as she spun on her heels, moving from pillar to pillar, laughing. Arthur twitched a smile and went a bit closer, watching as the exquisite woman peeked out at him from behind a pillar, only to disappear behind it again with an echoing titter. He went closer and rounded the pillar, but she was no longer there. He knitted his brows. How could he have missed her? He felt his heart skip as someone suddenly grabbed his left hand. He looked sideways and saw that it was her, and he could make out a coy smile behind her crimson tresses. "This way, Arthur.", she said and tugged him along to an open balcony with a majestic overview of the highlands. He smiled again. Everything was perfect. He would stay here in this castle for eternity, with her.

A violent crack in the air stole his attention. The sky and its radiant sunlight suddenly turned to dark clouds and thunder, and he could see large, flaming rocks fall from the sky. Meteors. Crashing down into the highlands and causing unimaginable destruction. Arthur threw out his left arm to shield the young woman, but all he swept through was air. A cry shrieked from behind him and he turned around, spotting her in the hands of three hooded men, viciously dragging her away with crooked daggers in their hands. He felt fear and fury build up inside him and he took a step forward, ready to storm across the room at the assailants. He was abruptly stopped in his tracks as the pillars on both sides begun to collapse inwards, and the roof above came crashing down. He saw the woman free one of her arms and reach out with her hand, crying out his name. But she was quickly cut away from his vision as rubble of stone and marble blocked his path. The ground below his feet cracked apart. He fell.

Arthur opened his eyes and inhaled sharply. He had been sweating but was promptly met by a chilling breeze upon his cheeks that had snuck through his tent. He swept aside the fur blankets and sat up at the edge of the bed. He clutched a hand against his soaked tunic but gave it little thought. He reached out for the chainmail and leather vest hanging over the back of an adjacent chair and dragged them over his head and torso. Finally he grabbed the swordbelt and strapped it around his waist and plonked down his feet into his boots. On his way out of the tent he grabbed his cloak and threw it around him.

The dream had left him in a bitter mood and he tried his best to dismiss the vivid images in his head by scouring through a handful of reports. He sat by his desk outside the tent and from here he had a good view of the expanding camp below the hill he was situated on. At some point in the past days a rider from Lowburg had arrived with a letter from the king, instructing Arthur to cancel the mass mobilisation and instead just rally the southern forces in the Northlands. Now they were all here, near ten thousand men, and Arthur could begin preparations to march them to Lowburg's rescue.

He sighed and folded a document together, putting it down on his desk. He sniffled and pushed himself up from his seat and made his way down the hill and into the camp. He stopped by the chief quartermaster's supply tent and glanced inside. There were many more tents like this throughout the camp, destined to house the necessary supplies for such a large host. He turned around at the voice behind him.

"Sir?", the chief quartermaster inquired. He was a middle-aged man with more than enough years under his belt with handling logistics. He held a board in his right hand, scribbled from top to bottom.

"Quartermaster. How goes the preparations?"

"Very well, sir. We have received the majority of our supplies and are just waiting for a few caravans from Lord's Crest to arrive. They are transporting extra pairs of socks, shirts and so forth. Don't want our boys to suffer trenchfoot or anything, eh sir?"

Arthur sub-conciously nodded and gave the man a pat on his shoulder. "Carry on, quartermaster. We'll march as soon the last caravans are here."
He strolled back to his tent and sat down in the chair with a frown while rubbing his temple with a few digits. He had already been gone long enough and wasn't sure if Lowburg was still standing at this point and if the king had perished along with it if so. He huffed a breath and leered out over the camp again. If Raylia had triumphed at Lowburg, he had the means to make them pay dearly.

Her steps had become heavy and slow, like a dying gazelle dragging itself across the plains to escape the inevitable fate. She wasn’t sure what was keeping her going, determination, or foolishness perhaps? It was the only thing she knew how to do properly. She could play a noblewoman, a farmer’s daughter, or anything else really, but this was what she did. Time was a subjective term for her at this moment. It was up to herself, how long it had taken. But it had all felt so long, and she was exhausted. The woman fell to her ethereal knees before her own body. Eliana admired it for a second, the way she looked so peaceful, yet in so much pain. It was fascinating, and her eyes did not leave the empty body as the colour came back into the world, and her view was shifted from looking at the body, to looking into the lonesome night.

Eliana fell down unto the ground, coughing heavily. She wiped her mouth, leaving a scarlet stain on the worn dress. But the girl came to the senses she had left, getting up on her bum and looking at Miriam, trying to focus. She noticed the concerned look on the huntress’ face, and attempted to follow the gaze. Whilst narrowing her eyes, and trying to focus her blurry vision, she managed to find the figure Miriam was cursing over. A surge ran through Ellie, as she felt the luring sensation again. With her hands pushed against the ground, the young Walker leaned her weight on her staff and froze, staring at the figure. It disappeared out of her vision as soon as it had come, and the Walker shivered roughly at the sight.

“M-Miriam… I’m so sorry-…” Ellie managed to say, before she interrupted herself. She felt a freezing breeze overcome her, and the pain originating from her shoulder became unbearable. It felt as if her very soul were being ripped apart, as it most likely was. The figure came back into their sights, only half a dozen meters away from the two women. His presence was unsettling, and the cold, dark, aura was so tormenting. Ellie could not make out if he was whispering, but she struggled to keep calm nonetheless. The figure drew out his sword, and shoved it into the ground, clasping his hands together.
From his feet a dark smoke emerged. It did not spread, instead it was sneaking it’s way towards the two, almost like a living snake. It sped up, wrapping around Ellie and Miriam’s legs. It was as if burning spikes were ripping right into Eliana’s legs, causing her to release empty screams. He walked closer, as the snake of a smoke climbed to Ellie’s shoulder, and crawling all over her.

“So young… So fragile… So persistent… “ the voice was deep and rung within Ellie’s head. She couldn’t see what was happening to Miriam, and was barely able to keep her focus on the dark artist. He stood right before her, watching the magic tear the woman apart, grinning sadistically. The man took off his glove, running his hand down along Eliana’s face, nudging her bruised cheek gently before smiling to himself.

“Do not fight it, my dear. It’ll only ruin it.” He assured her, shaking his head lightly. The pain in Eliana’s shoulder had spread to her entire body. She wasn’t able to stay in reality anymore, and was fading away. The man turned to Miriam, nodding his head at her.

“You’ve been ever so helpful. Thank you.”

Miriam
Chapter 14: The folly of Faith

She recognized the sensation, it coiled about her with its dark extremities, pressuring and suffocating the very skin of her body. The tendrils were searing hot and scorched Miriam's pant leg badly as it wrapped and grasped it tightly. She found it was impossible to squirm out of and she could only watch and writhe as it locked her legs in place. The man had approached Eliana whom had been assailed by a far larger amount of the vile magic. The girl had fallen back on her knees and sat locked in a dark grasp. The cowled man stood before her and his hollow voice croaked as he briefly looked over to Miriam.
"You've been ever so helpful. Thank you." Miriam could not see the face beneath the large cowl but she could imagine the smug smile on his arrogant face. Miriam responded heartily, she slid a hand beneath her own coat and retrieved a slender dagger from within, with a flick she went to throw it-... Thud! She was on the ground. With nothing but a wave had the man tripped her by use of his dark lengths and they seared into her flesh again, causing her to squirm in meek resistance. "Useless." The figure growled, leaving Miriam there on the ground. He turned back to Eliana who was at this point almost entirely enveloped in the black trap. She seemed completely unable to withstand whatever magic was overtaking her. Miriam lay on the ground and watched in terror as the girl was being assaulted. "You are not meant to exist." The figure told Eliana though she could not hear. "I shall corr-...Ah!" The attacker cried out in alert which was quickly outdone by the bark and growl of the dog that pounced him. He hit the ground and his cowl flew off, Leia stood on top of his robed torso, her ferocious jaws locked and gnawing angrily on his right arm, which still swirled with dispersing black magic as it was twisted by the dog's bite. The dog barked and snapped her jaws toward the attacker's face, he rose his arms for defense and his large sleeved robes were ripped into further. Miriam watched in genuine surprise until she realized that the magic had been dispersed around her. Her legs still hurt but were effectively free from the grasp. This was her chance. She got up in a hurry, grasping her knife in her left hand, her legs pulsed with excruciating agony but she rushed up and headed toward the man. As she approached he had managed to twist his elbow around and knock Leia off of him, the dog skipped to the side with a pitiful whine and made some distance. The attacker managed to rise, his cowl had fallen and his pale, hollow face was revealed. It reminded Miriam of the undead lord she had encountered, it was rather tidy, but the lack of surging blood or even colour in the eyes were obvious enough indications. This man was already dead, Miriam had no time to concern with the implications as she had already arrived, she thrust her knife before her and pierced into the robe of the undead. It sunk into the flesh and the impact caused the monster to stagger backwards with a groan. Miriam lodged her knife deeper and winced as she looked up at the tall looming figure. He returned the look with an emotionless expression, parched lips drawn thin in indignation. Miriam promptly decided to let go of her knife and quickstep back. She lent a nervous smile at the seemingly unphased monster.
"... You're not going to die from that anytime soon, are you?" She queried stiffly.
"No." He replied dryly. He then raised his other arm, that had not been torn at by Leia and his hand erupted in a flash of blue light which left Miriam stumbling in blinding whiteness. She was then suddenly flipped as before and again hit the cold ground with a painful thump. She saw nothing other than the flashing white but heard the familiar growl of her companion as she had no doubt attacked the undead again. Miriam scrambled to her feet quickly and she could feel the heat of one of the tendrils slip near her ankle in an attempt to grasp it. Miriam blinked in rapid succession, attempting to regain her sight. The sound of a dog's loud whine alerted her, followed by a thud.
"Leia?!" Miriam cried out. As usual, there was no response from the dog.
"... Suffer." She heard and she could feel the heat of the extensions enclose around her feet again. Miriam panted in short panic, she rubbed over her blinded eyes but could see nothing, she took a stumbling step and was tripped by the tendril, she fell down on the ground yet again, grunting breathlessly as her leg was at last caught.

A sensation came over her. It was the same as it had been before. A feeling of utter isolation. She could not walk, not run and especially not fight. She was sightless and crippled. This was however some of her lesser issues, as she no doubt would soon be dead, as well.
"Leia... Ellie." She murmured, dragging her hand through the ground in a desperate attempt to move. There was only one sense Miriam could now rely on, hearing. And what she heard caused her to twitch a jump of surprised fright. Certain that the world had just shattered around her. It had been a thundering crack as if lightning had just struck on top of her, it had rolled out of nowhere and quickly spread across the area. The boom left her ears ringing and she dared not move, certain that she was dead now. She could not feel how the tendrils were again removed or how the very air buzzed with unleashed energy. She listened to the smokey voice as it spoke out out of the silence that followed.
"Come now, dear. I believe that belongs to you."

The immense, shimmering expanse of the city was beyond her comprehension. It was entirely under this tree, or mountain. It was so unclear that she felt dizzy just looking down. Not that heights were very appealing to begin with. Her voice carried off into the distance but garnered no real response from anything Humanoid. The creatures near her were enthralled by something. Something entirely sinister, she could conclude. There was naught for her to do other than to look for a way down - it was so real that the thought of jumping was too much and caused a lump in her throat to form at the mere consideration. A small walk is all it took to reach the edge, carved into the rock was a staircase that lead down into the city. Yet, if it wasn't eerie enough the cavernous walls were lined with hundreds if not thousands of small cages, bars lining each and every inch of it - being cut off by the edge of rock that separated each cage. Freda couldn't see anyone within the cages as she passed, the steps were narrow and hard to land a footfall on so she had her attention elsewhere but the mere thought of being grabbed by something inside made the lump even bigger, each swallow felt harsher and harsher.
Sooner or later, the inevitable happened and the Knight reached the bottom of the long stairway that had spiralled up nearly a mile through the rock and down to what she thought was the bottom. Yet... her way was barred. A gigantic metal gate - lined with the same bars stood in her way and only shadow was on the other side. This was when the same voice that had greeted her here appeared before her, the shimmering expanse of what looked like her long deceased mother - yet it was too spectral and other-worldly to ever make that clear assumption reality. The voice spoke to her, landing a few inches from her.
"You have reached your limit this era. Dost thee feel the energy? The lines between worlds is breaking. Outworlds and worlds will soon align and a thousand years of chaos will ensue. Stop it! Find a Jonius, and swiftly!" The voice screamed at the top of its lungs, ripping through Freda's body as she joined the chorus, her energy and body quite literally ripping apart in that instant before forming into a rune on the floor, perhaps to mark her progress? On the other hand, she could see it all as she slowly drifted away from it all, flying through the rock, the trees, the water and the wind before something slapped her very hard in the face, almost breaking her jaw if she could remember and within seconds she was back within her real body, in the light forest and on the floor, bleeding from every inch of her face yet she felt no real pain.

A few moments after awakening she felt a cold chill wash over her visage and a very concerned Henry shaking her, saying swiftly. "Freda! Freda! Wake up, please. There's something going on! We have to hurry." He stood up just as swiftly, running to grab and then offer out her weapons which sluggishly reached out for, gradually bringing her unarmoured self up to bear. It was an odd feeling, given she went to sleep fully armoured and now she was in her gambeson clothing. Yet, given the boys frantic behaviour and sudden worry she gathered it was egregious. She strapped her sword to her hip, grabbing the spear and shield and brought these to each hand. Now following the boy out the forest to immediately gaze upon the display of the foulest magic in plain sight. The pitch darkness was little to her eyes that had adjusted in the dream which had somehow become a reality, any wound suffered within assuredly was felt in the Realms of Men all too readily.
The warrior hissed in disgust, dismissing the boy with a fretful wave of her arm. "Take the horses, my armour and everything we have -back- to the fort! Get them ready to march. I have written report of the entire affair, present that and do not ever speak. I will remain here." Henry was not too pleased by the way he was spoken too but knew better than to argue at this time and quickly ran back to the campsight to start packing up and readied to leave without her. She just prayed that he could be trusted. Her real test of valour was to come.

"Ad-van-ho-dar! Assail the flame! Hein-rich-en-for! " She started to chant out in a very old tongue, one that would surely garner the attention of the shadow-mancer and hopefully draw fear into the hearts of the foul creature. The Undead caster held up his incantation and a portion of his power to siphon the essence form the two girls on the ground before him, remaining overly confident as he stretched out with open arms, almost as if he wanted to embrace the warrior of flame coming to greet him so brazenly. "Ah! It has been so long since I have heard the voice of such beauty! Come, child. Join us. I will make your passing almost beautiful." He would of shed a tear if he could, pouring empathy he never knew he had into the speech, yet within moments it devolved and sinister laughter replaced it. He unleashed hell incarnate from his finger tips!
Freda's defence was to throw her shield over her shoulder and onto her back to begin with at the sight of the cast. This then called for her to spin her entirely metal, short ranseur spear around at an immense velocity, creating a whipping sound as she spun it in front of her person with both her hands. The lance of emptiness and shadow slammed into the spear, being ripped to shreds in a few seconds by the nullifying propriety of the metals coating. The man jerked back, aghast, yet did not give in. Not at all. His entire body rippled in shadow-energy, and the Void incarnate he became! The essence from the girls on the ground empowering him further, though he knew better than to simply kill them off yet, there was more power to life than their was to death. On the other hand, Freda took this time to advance, taking up a zigzag run to avoid any further bolts of evil and dashed through the moors to close the distance. In the time it took to reach that distance the man had already began to draw vicious tendrils from the ground, each of which whipped and lashed at the woman charging him. The caster was ancient in his ability, something the warrior of flame had never witnessed. Her defence was nominal, in any regard - trained to fight magic in all forms, she slashed at the tendrils in her advance yet it was impossible to remain unscathed. Each lash felt as if her soul was being rend from within, tearing at the fibres of her being. Yet as each tendril fell the caster staggered, he could only control so much at one time and arrogance had formed over the decades of no challenge.

The magical nullifying spear was her only weapon to boast here, and it did its duty well. Within a few agonizing moments every tendril had been dispelled and the man clambered on his knees, laughing manically as defeat grew ever nearer. Unable to give up his prizes, his delicious soul-snacks. Alas, he knew deep in his black heart that this could very well be his end if he played it poorly. "I-... am bested! My, my. It has been many a year. But! I must be going. Keep them warm for me! I will collect them shortly" Freda growled in fury, throwing her spear into the air only to catch it in a over-arm position and then threw it like a javelin from where she stood, unleashing out a loud cry as she did so. She fell to her knees afterwards from the sheer force she pushed into it. Yet, the being of the Void had little intention to remain here and released the two girls from its grasp, expelling what remained of their energy back into them and then just collapsed into his robes, black goo streaming out from them where the spear pierced the robe a few moments after the fact, setting the goo and robes ablaze in a white-flame, burning immensely hot for a few seconds before dying off - leaving but ash in its wake.
In these tantalizing few seconds Freda threw up her guts as agony swelled in her body, the wounds she suffered were spectral that only one skilled in the arts of soul-cleansing could possibly ever rectify. Her attention drifted to the two women lain broken and bloodied in the mud. Were pity formed a desire to assist began. She sprung to action and grabbed her spear first, slinging this over her back aswell before kneeling to the one closest to where the pile of ash had formed, giving her a firm shake to see if consciousness till prevailed. "Hello! Madame! Speak to me. It is safe, I promise you this. We must make haste elsewhere."

"Are you awake!?" Freda gave her shoulder another firm nudge. Blood still soaked the warriors face, almost looking like a grizzly war-paint, if it was not obvious that she had bled from every orifice on her visage.

Chapter 15: Stubborn assault

The enemy ranks were bustling with activity, whatever they had been doing the past day it now seemed to reach its culmination. Leofric stiffled a yawn with a palm and looked across the fields with a tired expression. After Leofric's men had destroyed the siege weapons the enemy had learned from their mistake and now guarded their new project closely. It had ruled out any further lightning strikes from horseback and Leofric realised that they could do very little else now except wait for the next major assault. As he expected they would, the Raylians had harassed the walls every few hours with their own archers, and the defenders had answered, resulting in a bitter exchange of projectiles leaving casaulties on both sides.

Leofric drummed his palms idly against the wall and turned his head sideways. Along the wall a few guardsmen still kept watch while the rest sat slouched against the wall to get whatever spare minutes of sleep they could. They weren't professional soldiers, but Leofric was proud of them all the same. They had performed admirably during the enemy's first attack and never faltered under the Raylians' superior numbers. If they made it out of this alive he'd consider recruiting them into the army. He gazed back over the fields and could see the enemy starting to form up in ranks. He turned to a guardsman standing nearby with a horn in his hand and gave him a nod. The guardsman raised the horn to his lips and soon three short horn-blasts sounded across the town and nearby land. The resting guardsmen flung up on unsteady feet and gripped their bows tight. Not long after that the vast host on the opposite end of the fields began to advance. After their devastating loss in the first strike they had switched up their tactics and their footmen had formed up into a massive turtle formation with their kite shields protecting their front, flanks and heads.
Regardless, Leofric had ordered the guardsmen to open fire once the enemy came within range. There was always a chance a few arrows would slip in between the gaps in the shields, and it gave the Raylians something to be nervous over. A few enemy soldiers fell as a lucky arrow found its target, but it did not budge their advance. Their losses picked up as they reached the first set of trenches, but this time they crossed or circumvented them without too much struggle.

Leofric watched silently as the enemy host came closer to the walls. Their advance was stopped briefly by the next set of spiked trenches and their struggle across took another toll of a few dozen men, but enough of them eventually made it across and reformed in well-drilled discipline. The gaps formed in their ranks while they worked their way past the trenches caused Leofric to catch a brief glance at their next plan of action, several ladders seen carried by men, protected by their shield-bearing comrades around them. He saw men clad in suits of plate armor take point and clear a path through the caltrops field, though a handful of Raylians still fell victim to the dreaded devices, collapsing down with cries of agony. Arrows begun to fly back at the defenders from inside the mass of enemies, and those that did not fly too high pelleted against the wall and bounced off, but it was enough to throw a spanner in the works and briefly interrupt the defenders' volleys.

The Raylians weren't far from the walls now. The first rank broke off and stormed ahead, hugging in against the wooden pallisades with their shields raised above their heads. Behind them came the ladder-bearers. The guardsmen on the walls frantically tried to stop their advance by aiming for the carriers, but another Raylian soldier simply took the place of a fallen as they continued to rush for the walls. Leofric twisted on the spot and cupped a hand around his mouth to shout. "Tar! Fire! Aim for the ladders!"

Several defenders quickly dropped their bows and ducked down behind the walls and shortly after appeared again with pots of tar and firebombs in their hands. They threw them down at the attackers, specifically the men carrying the ladders, and fiery explosions popped off all along the Raylian ranks. A few ladders were put out of commission and the explosions had created a moment of chaos amongst the enemy while they tried to re-organize themselves or put out the fires engulfing their unfortunate comrades. But a few made it through and had raised the ladders up the wall, and Raylian soldiers were already climbing up. A ladder was successfully pushed off, but one was all they managed. The defending guardsmen that tried to push away the ladders were promptly shot down by enemy archers, somewhere outside the walls.

Leofric frowned and stepped down from his overlook. They had depleted what meagre arsenal Lowburg had at its disposal. Now they had to defend the town the old fashioned way. He gripped his sword and released it from the scabbard, but he was abruptly stopped in his track by another three horn-blasts, coming from the northern end of town. He saw one of his grey-clad soldiers come running down a street and he stopped below the wall to catch his breath before hollering up at the king.

"They're attacking the gate! There's hundreds of them!"

Not only did it crawl on the skin. It went through it, into the very soul of a person. Crawling its way through the flesh and the veins, along the lines of blood and beside the bone marrow. And it spread a poisonous sting along the way, as it drained the very life essence of a person. To the young Spirit-Walker, it wasn’t just her life energy, but the very source of her powers. The minor wound she had suffered earlier was nothing compared to this newfound pain. She wanted to collapse, truly she did. But the force held her up, attacking her and the girl next to her, for what seemed to be ages.

This was the worst kind of death one could imagine. It wasn’t even draining them quickly. It was thorough and took its dear time, making sure it got every string of the Niphon Essence along the way. The blue ethereal light was created with the use of the Walkers spirit, at the cost of their own vitality. It was the pure gold for anyone who longed to rob the essence of others. Eliana’s vision had long been destroyed, her pupils having turned into a beautiful ebon chromaticity.

It stopped. Without any acquiescence the woman fell to the ground. Her muscles didn’t move an inch and she landed on her side, lying perfectly still. Her eyes were open and stared into the dead nothing, her body cold and smoking from the shadowy influence that had corrupted her. The staff she had carried with her, bearing the ancient markings had become rotten. The symbols were unclear and ruined, just as its master on the ground. The pendant Eliana had carried was shattered on the ground in front of her, but one could still spot the sigil of the king within it. So much had been lost, drained, and torn from her. It was unclear how much Miriam had suffered, as it seemed she was out cold when the saviour attempted to get in contact with the ranger.

Leia stood whimpering by Miriam’s side. The dog had run immediately to its master, not seeming to care much for it’s own wounds. She licked Miriam’s face, rudely shoving the female warrior aside. It was almost as if the smoking pile of ash were laughing in a faint echo. An aura of madness filled the air around the four. Somewhere in the distance, a confused man ran about, not being able to find his way in the dark.

Not far from them, at the gate of Lowburg, the fighting had recommenced. The work of the Spirit-Walker had possibly been in vain, as the two nations began striking each other again. Leia’s whimpering had turned into a demoralized bark. If dogs could shed tears, this wasn’t much far from it. The dog impatiently stomped the enormous paws unto the huntress, attempting to wake her up.
Meanwhile the Walker had not moved, not a single breath had been drawn yet.

Nearby

“I’m sure of it!” The Raylian scout called out angrily at his companion.

The swordsman sighed heavily, shaking his head back at the scout.

“We all heard –something-, but that flash was most likely a thunder strike! Or some weapon from the Northerners. I don’t think you-“ he barely managed to say, before being interrupted by the scout.

“No. It was the same we saw back in Castellia. Right before the Slaughter.” The scout nodded sternly, leading his comrade unto an open field. The fighting was still seen in the distance, a few torches lighting up the violent night. The two kept at a steady pace, the scout moving much quicker than his half-plated friend. They had always worked together the two. It was standard Raylian procedure; a scout always had a soldier of some sort assigned to him or her, if needed to tread into an area where they expected resistance, but were still able to let some of their movement down.

They covered behind a bush in the open field, near the supposed scene. The swordsman put a hand on the scout’s shoulder, having lowered his voice.

“Alright you bastard. Are you done with seeing flashes now?” He angrily muttered.

The scout held up his hand in a response, finding his bow and arrow. He placed an arrow on the bow, slowly rising up and taking aim. What it was, he couldn’t see. But it was loud and clumsy, much like a chicken without the head to lead it. But his eyes went to something else. A figure stood kneeled down, and a barking dog was at its side. He nodded.

“There.” And went off without a word to his heavier comrade, who had to pick up his pace again.

“State your names!” The scout raised his voice, having snuck up on the figure. He spotted two more now, both on the ground and looking ever so numb. The dog barked angrily at him and went to scare him off. But instead he lowered his weapon, loosing his grip on the string. He dropped his bow and slowly kneeled down, examining the former golden haired woman, without the consent of the armed female. The scout had his eyes wide open, inspecting the girl with care.

“What … in the world?” He looked up at his lately arrived friend, who held up his hand briefly to show his friendliness. The two exchanged a look, and an understanding nod.

This time the scout had seen something, whatever it had been.

Leia
Chapter 1: Matronage

Snow. Her paws sunk into it as she trotted forward. The freshly fallen snow clung dis-pleasurably to the drooping fur of her lower legs and it made her movements heavier. Leia's side already ached where The Threat had hurt her. It had smelled of similar threats and Leia was gladly rid of the scent now. She looked up again, padding next to the large Phoenix who rattled as they walked. The person carried Master in their arms as Master could not walk alone. Leia was concerned and she had since they set out circled around the phoenix as they walked. First with distrust as they did smell of fowl and Leia had no trust for things that could fly, but now with anxiety. What if Master never woke? Leia was uncertain how long Master had been gone now but in truth, it did not matter. Five minutes was excruciating enough.
"Wroaf!" She said. With intent of gaining Master's attention. There was no response. They only hung in the arms of the flaming bird with their eyes shut and arms drooping. "Waff!" Leia yelped. Skipping slightly on the spot. The Phoenix growled something in response. Leia did not fully understand but the tones were clear and she said nothing more to try and gain Master's attention, for now...

She looked instead forward, letting her tongue hang out of fatigue from the walk. The two new threats walked in front of them. They had used Master's bag and fashioned a cot to carry The Blue person in. They were tediously careful as if the person they carried was a pup or someone familial. Leia enjoyed the Blue person. They seemed very kind and smiled with their mouth. But never with their eyes, opposite as to Master. But now they were hurt as well. Leia looked back toward the Phoenix until a sound caught her ear. She twitched her head around and looked toward the forest in the near distance. Squirrel? No. Gone, but it had been something and it might have been even larger than a squirrel! Leia blinked her eyes and looked to the Phoenix again. They were slow and Master needed assistance, how or for what Leia did not consider. But she did rush the Phoenix with a precedent bark. No response other than a glum gaze. The Phoenix said something in a tone Leia understood as angry to the two New People that walked ahead and they replied in the same tone. Leia did not understand their conversation and focused elsewhere. Maybe it had been a squirrel...?

Leia was thankful when the humans sat. They had spoken much between each other in the same angry tones and now elected to pause. They had sat down the wounded of the pack and the two New People were doting over Blue. Leaving the Phoenix with Master. Master was sat against a tree, Leia sat herself next to them and canted her head in thought while inspecting them. They breathed but seemed no closer to waking than they had before. Leia tried a comforting:
"Woaff!" - But there was no response. She then put a paw against Master and pushed her head against Master's arm while whining a noise, when hungry it had always worked to garner attention but it too did nothing now. Master was still unavailable. If not even the hungry whimper could rouse her, then nothing would. Leia sat down next to Master and watched the other humans, she flicked her ear, beyond the human's argument there was another noise, coming again from inside the forest nearby. Leia sniffed but could feel nothing except for the cold air in her nostrils as she inhaled. She did not feel threatened but she remained sitting by Master, in case anyone would attempt to bite them now. She would remain guard and she would defend Master against any Threat. Even Bears!... Maybe not Bears... Leia knew when she was outmatched.

Walter
Chapter 6: A Hero's reward

Walter woke to the sound of sloshing water. He tiredly opened his eyes and looked hazily up into the wooden ceiling above him. Confused as to why it was slowly shifting side to side in a rhythm of uneasy decision. He briefly shut his eyes again and groaned from lack of words to describe the sensation. suffering a painful surging headache as well as a sort of stretching sensation in his arm, no more ripping arrows out of it, he thought to himself while smothering his face in the raggedy pillow. He slumped over to his previous position again, too weary to get up just yet, he just lay there. His legs were numb, he guessed he had not used them for some time. With a mumble he pulled lightly on the sheet that lay over him and shifted to his side so that he could look around. He realized now the cot he was laying in was the thing that swayed, along with the movements of the ship he was undoubtedly in. The room was empty and dark, Walter assumed it was late in the evening as there was no light coming in through the window on the far side of the room. He assumed he was on the Syren, he assumed that they had done it and were finally safe and on their way. home He'd succeeded. He gave a sigh of relief at the realization. As he lay there looking out into the dark room he thought about what his victory would imply. If war was unavoidable before, it was sealed and printed now. Not only had they attacked the guards, but they had used dark magic to do so. In fact, he had used dark magic. This caused him to sigh in hollow anxiety. It did not last long however, Walter swiftly excused his actions as duty. Duty to his country, duty to his people people and to his Princess... - Olive. Walter got the sudden urge to stand, he swung his weak legs out of the cot and placed his feet on the floorboards, with a sway he stood up and began to walk forward. The room held many other cots but all of them were empty as was the rest of the room. There were no candles to light it up so Walter followed the only light he could see, which was the door at the end of a nearby staircase. Walter bumped his toe into a table as he progressed towards the light.

He opened the creaking door and looked out onto the wooden deck. His face was immediately struck with a powerful sea breeze which carried the scent and spirit of the broiling ocean. Men shouted to each other above him from the masts and rigging. The sea around them was awake and vexed, a churning sea to be sure, but it was no storm of immediate danger. Walter stepped out on the main deck and met the gaze of one of the sailors, he seemed to disregard the sorcerer and walked on past him with a coil of rope in his hands, keeping a ship moving required constant work. Walter looked up instead and saw stars in the sky. Night, then.
”Andalus!” A thundering voice cried from behind him. Walter turned and noticed a figure standing upon the wide top deck. ”Up at last, I see. Good man.” Harsley continued, he now stood leaning against the railing and looked down at Walter, the man brandished a ridiculously large hat and wore a cutlass at his belt. Behind him one of the Valentian men-at-arms held the helm. Walter rolled his eyes sarcastically inside his head and thought about how unoriginal the man was before lending him a short yet respectful wave.
”Captain.” He paused his speech for a moment, attempting to conjure something to converse about. His head still hurt and he was beginning to realize how much his arm actually hurt, in a prickling sort of way.
”Lord wanted to see you soon as you woke.” Harsley said, his eyes already having left Walter to look out across the rest of the ship and their starlit path. Walter stroked across his bandaged arm and frowned in thought. Already half a step from leaving.
”Suppose I'll go see him then – What's our course, anyway?” Walter figured he should make sure.
”West by sou' West. 'course.” Said Harsley with a proud smile. Walter smiled back politely and then excused himself with a meek nod. He did not need to ask where Tarveil would be. The Captain's lodge was the only place important enough for such a man.

”Knock, knock.” Walter muttered; he would normally just have knocked, but his knocking arm was currently bandaged and not functional so he relied on words. He expected the Lord to summon him inside and he already had a hand on the doorknob when another voice was heard instead.
”... Who's there?” A much more endearing voice than expected replied. It was inquisitive, soft yet undoubtedly drowsy, and it was exactly the voice Walter wanted to hear. He smiled in happy surprise and kept his hand on the knob.
”... Old Lady.” He said back eventually. A smirk formed on his lips as he could not stop himself. Olive must have paused to think about what this could mean as there was a silence. She was careful when she did eventually respond.
”Old lady Who?” She asked, a marvelously regal giggle was being suppressed.
”Oh! I didn't know you could yodel.” Walter said in mock surprise, relieving a short chuckle with the end of his terrible joke. He could hear Olive giggle inside and it made him smile and better yet, it made him forget about his hurting arm.
”Come in.” He heard her say and he gladly did. Opening the door and entering the cabin, it was well furnished with a work desk and a wardrobe standing out as the most significant things among the spacious room, not counting the girl who sat on the bed, she had tidied up since last Walter saw her, her hair had been braided and fell down her back neatly and she had obviously been given a finer dress to wear. It was coloured in the official Valentus crimson on its embroidery which slunk across the light brown dress in intricate runic patterns, a dress worthy of a Princess but it was weird to see her dressed in such things again. She smiled at Walter as he entered and she stood up from the bed, putting the book she had been reading aside.
”How are you?” He asked while watching her. She smiled a cheery response.
”Just fine.” Her mood altered in a second as her gaze fell on Walter's bandaged arm. ”And you?” Walter trailed the eye and looked at his own arm, he gave a fake smile to reassure her and shook his head lightly.
”Just peachy. Simply glad I made it.” He said.
”So am I.” Said Olive, beaming a smile. Walter paused for a moment to look at her, she looked back and shifted her tender smile. He felt an urge rise within him... Just a hug, there was nothing dangerous about a hug. They were friends, weren't they? She was a free person and could do-...
”Guardian Andalus.” Tarveil entered and Walter's world grew so much darker in an instant. He looked over to the Lord and gave a forced nod.
”Lord Tarveil.”
Olive turned as well and gave the stiff Lord a respectful curtsey.
”Good evening, Lord Tarveil.” She said and Walter noticed her expression had changed back to her royal mask again.
”Princess.” Said the lord and nodded for Olive before turning to Walter. ”You're awake, at last. That's good.” Walter noddded and drew a light puff of a sigh.
”Yes, I hear we're on our way.”
”So we are. We will be home within the Moon's turn.” Tarveil adjusted his coat. He hadn't changed from what he had worn in Arlston and neither had his mood, despite their victory.
”It'll be good to go home at last.” Said Walter, agreeing with the Lord. Tarveil quirked a brow however and wafted a hand.
”You shan't be going home, sorcerer.” He said as if that had been obvious from the start. Walter blinked in surprise and looked briefly to Olive who hadn't changed at all, she wore her royal mask still. Perhaps she had already heard.
”Why not?” Walter asked, he held one hand over his wounded arm as it surged painfully.
”We will drop you and Harsley on the way, of course. Lazurus isle, most likely.”
”The reason?” Walter grew irritated now. But so did Tarveil who were in no mood to answer obviously reasonable questions to simpletons such as him.
”We are at war, Andalus. You are to join the invasion force. I trust you take no issue with this?” Tarveil stuck Walter with a piercing gaze which Walter met with a cool expression. His arm hurt again.
”Of course not, sir.” Sighed Walter. Obedience came naturally to him.
”Excellent. Your actions will be brought to the King for commendation by myself personally, as shall the Princess, I ensure you - You may go now.” Tarveil nodded firmly and concluded the business with a dismissive wave of his hand. He waited for Walter to leave the room which like an obedient dog, he did. Tarveil then shut the door. Thus sealing the fate Walter Andalus, Guardian of royalty and Sorcerer of Valentus had been ordained.

"I dun think you have what it takes, woman. If I can even call you that." Light beckoned over the horizon. Fires began to spark up in the direction of Lowburg, only now did they realise the full extent of the attack. Freda felt more alone than ever tending to these two comatose women and a dog. The damn dog.

"Yeah. Me and Jack 'ere think we don't need you. These... pretty ones should jus' stick with us. We'll treat 'em nice and propa'. " One of the filthy Ralyian's spoke up.

"Aye! We got 'em. So pike off, fat arse." Jack wafted his hand, tapping the pommel of his sword. "Don't make us use 'em, eh?" Like most stupid men, confidence over-came skill.

This was the last threat she would suffer. She reached for the hilt of her own weapon, already having prepared her cavalier's heater shield - which was strapped to her off-arm. "Back. Off." The initial hostile reaction was paid and before long the two men began to back off with drawn swords, though the prospect of these two women in their 'care' was more than an enticing fight for them. Thus, another needless battle begun. Freda threw up her shield to take the first blow yet the other sword that was swung at her hit her right thigh. Hard. It tore into flesh to create a nasty gash that was only amplified on her recoil; her gambeson skirt saved her the leg, at least. In that second she felt defeat coming.

Before long, she had unleashed her broadsword and lunged at her opponents. Yet, being outnumbered meant staying manoeuvrable and she had already lost that. A swing came from both sides again, yet she was more than prepared for it this time. She ducked, clashing with one sword on the down swing and then letting the other swing over her shield, slashing through the hard wood and grinding over the hard metal of his friends blade. She sprung up swiftly, throwing her shield out in a one-two combination. Her shield slammed into the man's face without any warning, breaking his jaw and sealed his fate.
Her sword dripped with crimson blood as it pierced the Ralyian's torso, tearing through him in a fatal second. She knew revenge would come. Jack the Scout roared out in anguish, yet Leia chose her side. She lunged at the man, grabbing at his ankle as he strayed too close to the unconscious North-woman. The dog was met with a firm kick but it was a swift enough distraction for the wounded Phoenix to limp forward and swing her blade with all her force behind it. Blood splattered the dog and both the women, a guttural, blood-curling gargle followed as the fiery warrior finished. She followed the line of blood-soaked metal to the man's punctured head - her blade sank through inches of skull and brain. Jack the Scout flopped to the ground moments after, he had died instantly. The other Raylian still grasped to life, the blow he received was fatal but death would meet him in hours, not seconds.

Leia barked quietly as her aggression subtly faded. She shook her ragged and now bloody fur before starting to lick her master's face, attempting to'clean' it off. Freda lowered herself down to a knee, dropping her shield down to the ground to inspect the gash on her leg. A low whimper followed at the pain welling up in her limb. The sound of the dying man's crying grew to sicken her. She was never fond of killing but it was not her choice. The crunch of bone and flesh followed as her blade rend into the man's back, right through his heart. A clean kill if one ever existed...

Freda doffed her weaponry after tearing her blade from the Raylian's back and sat in the middle of the sleeping, half alive women, knowing she needed to deal with the corpses but her wound took precedence.

Later, Early Morning...

A basic fire for basic men, she concluded. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, but her howling was joined by wolves from the cauterizing. She just prayed it didn't draw any unwanted attention, these two were not very mobile after all. The Ralyian's were blackened now, but she was not happy until ashes were produced; even scum like these deserved to have themselves reborn anew one day - she just hoped it was as a slug. There was little time for such thoughts and a lot of ground had to be covered. Especially with two girls that refused to wake up. And the damn dog.

She trotted her way calmly with a heavy limp over to the blonde one, looking to cuff her chin to raise up her head and hopefully see a spark of life; perhaps fire would help?
"Fair woman. Are you awake? I need assistance here. We will all perish if you -do- not awaken. Come back to the world of the living, the Holy Flame beckons thee." She squinted her face, the response she received was a weak hand on her wrist - a very weak sign of life and a gasp of air that almost sounded as a plea for something. Swiftly, Freda produced a skin of water for her to sip on, helping it down with tilting her head backwards - hopefully to bring back life that she saw. The blonde haired woman finally started to actually seem alive, yet remained in immense agony. Touching her felt odd, Freda thought. Sooner or later the flaring in Freda's back was enough to just let go and wince, having flared up from touching the void spirited girl. She took the skin and wandered over to the rugged traveller to do the same, repeating the same words to get a similar response. Avoiding the protective dog was difficult, but a piece of meat distracted him long enough.
"W-.. What?" Was all she received before the same feeling rippled through her at the slightest touch, yet she endured to at least keep them hydrated - giving her the other half of the skin to consume. A kind smile followed, happy to actually see them coming back to life. The Knight stood up to collect her equipment with a momentary sigh. Morning beckoned over the horizon to reveal an immense battle being fought out in the distance. Thousands of troops clambered up ladders or rammed at the gate where hundreds fell; fires burned and death took its toll. The sight filled her with dread and worry, could she arrive in time to save the town? She assumed not at the state of the battle. Would the King perish? There was more questions than answers that only the Flame could truly know.

Later...

"No. There is little time for introductions or thanks. We move. Lean on me and we will make it. If you must rest, say so." Freda spoke to Miriam first, she was at least the most coherent at this point though it was obvious that if nothing was done for the withered two they would surely perish. "My Order has healers. One to heal those afflicted with the power of foul sorcery. We are two days away." She nods, looping her arm around her shoulder to haul her up - which was met with a heavy cry of agony then a loud bark and growl from the protective mutt. "Shush, dog."

"H-Hey. Don't you bad-mouth Leia." Freda already knew this duo would be more trouble than they were worth. How vows ruined her. She turned into the silent guardian again and sought to scoop up the other woman, yet she was far more gone than the others yet wide awake - almost if she had entered a trance of sorts, perhaps she experienced what she had? Was it sorcery? No matter, she picked her up and threw the blonde girl over a shoulder, the weight of the withered woman was inconsequential.
"Fort Royal? Isn't that place full of Undead?" Miriam inquired. "Well, not anymore. I guess." She lowered her head, having taken the least amount of the wounds amongst the trio. She could walk with a lot of aid. Even eat, which Freda forced on the ailing woman.
"It was empty when we arrived. There was one survivor amongst the fallen whom we saved upon arrival. What undead -were- there had moved on long ago. Yet, I feel they did not go far. Look." She pointed out at the huge, black cloud piercing the landscape just below the cloud layer and above the Black Marsh. "The Undead under enthralment from magic cannot survive in the Sunlight for long. Their masters create a thick, black fog that blots out all life and sunlight to keep them from withering. It is the work of the Death's Hand. Necromancers of Old that had originated from the Black Marsh in times long forgotten. My Order's founder, Grand Marshal Cedric slew their black leader and brought an ushering to the first Era. Or so it is in my land. And most of the south." Freda prayed that conversation could distract the woman from her ailments, or make the journey through the huge woods less painful.

"Uhuh." Miriam nodded, munching down on some dried venison with a ravenous appetite. It seemed to be doing her some good, but it was clear the girl was still suffering from unseen wounds.

"Sounds fun." She would of shrugged if her muscles worked like she remembered, but all her strength had been sapped. Leia barked happily, jumping up around Miriam - he was still ecstatic to see her awake, much to Freda's dismay.

"Your dog is... unique. It defended you even in the darkest hour. Such loyalty from a low creature. Not... to make offense, I simply did not expect it. She has my respect." Freda nods, not that Miriam noticed, she was too busy staring at the ground and dragging her feet.

It was going to be a long, arduous and dangerous journey.

Chapter 16: Breach

The hundred men assigned to guard the gate had kept themselves busy. Makeshift barricades had been constructed in a crecent formation around the gate and they had also reinforced it with a few, sturdy wooden logs. A group of five soldiers stood inclined against the gate with their shoulders first, adding further weight and resistance to the attackers on the other side. But not by much. A handful of men had climbed up the walls as well, and were occupied with throwing down rocks large enough to crush a man's skull at the enemy below. Behind the barricades sat the rest of the soldiers with weapons at the ready, waiting for the inevitable breach. One of the soldiers rose up to his feet and raised a hand to greet the approaching king, flanked by his ten knights. Leofric quickly recognised the man that had raised his hand as Captain Hal.

"Sire." Captain Hal hailed as he went to meet the king, a hand clenched hand raised to his heart in salute. He carried a weary and rugged look about him with a thick unkempt beard and tired eyes. The officer had probably not gained a lot of hours of sleep the recent days. Leofric nodded and glanced back Hal's shoulder towards the gate. "What's the situation?"

"Grim, Sire. We estimate there's at least eight hundred of them on the other side of that gate. We won't be able to keep them out for much longer, and we certainly won't be able to hold them here." Hal informed with a bitter tone in his voice. At the same time the sound of marching boots reached both men's ears and they turned to face it. From one of the streets came Captain Castor, followed by the four hundred men that had conducted the raid on the enemy siege weapons. They had been in the town for some time now, putting out fires and ensuring there were no breaches elsewhere in the wall where they enemy might've been able to slip in from. They stop a short distance away from the group and Castor raised a hand in salute. "Sire."

Leofric raised an arm to gesture behind him. "Captain Castor. Take a hundred and fifty and reinforce the southern wall, the guardsmen have it rough right now. Leave the rest of the men here." he commanded. Castor nodded firmly and collected the men he needed before they rushed off down the southern street towards the besieged wall. The remaining troops formed up in squares of fifty men each a distance away from the barricades, under leadership from senior veterans. Leofric idly tapped the tip of his sword against the ground and nodded to himself, content with the performance of his men so far.

A loud crack sounded from the gate, followed by one of the men pushing against it shouting out an alarm. Leofric glanced back to the gate and rolled a shoulder. "This is it, captain. It won't be long now. Return to your men and let's give these Raylian murderers a lesson for life." Leofric uttered and stepped aside, positioning himself a short distance behind the barricades with his knights on either side of him. He watched as Hal returned to his previous and bellowed a mouthful of orders which Leofric was unable to pick up on.

Another crack from the gate. And then another. This time one of the supporting logs fell over, and the head from the Raylian battering ram broke through the large wooden doors. The men pushing against them quickly abandoned their positions and scurried behind the barricades to join their comrades, but the handful of men on the wall remained where they were. The battering ram struck the gate again, causing another log to topple over. The knights around Leofric shifted around and formed up in a semi-circled infront of them with their shields locked together. Leforic gazed past their shoulders with his hands resting against the pommel of his sword, the tip pointed into the ground.

Crack. The gate broke open with an explosion of wooden splinter and swung back hard against the walls. The northerners could heard the cheering voices of the Raylians on the other side, though they quickly transcended into a battle-cry as the enemy soldiers stormed in through the gate with thundering boots, rushing straight for the barricades. Captain Hal's voice overpowered them all. "BRACE, MY BOYS! HAVE AT THEM!"

Upon Hal's command, the near hundred men behind the barricades rose up behind their cover with swords and spears. The first Raylians were caught off-guard completely and swiftly met their end from the Northlandic soldiers. Those that followed tried to re-organize themselves into some form of fighting order, but were pushed on by their comrades streaming in through the broken gates, and instead had to mob charge the enemy fortifications. Like the first group of enemies, the next dozen or two were brutally cut down. After that the enemy finally started to whip themselves into order and form up into smaller pockets to take on their opponents dug-in behind the barricades. The sound of steel upon still and agonizing cries of the injured sounded through the air, and Leofric observed with a bitter expression. He twisted slightly on the spot to leer back down the southern road. Hopefully Captain Castor and his men were able to hold the walls.

“’Father’s Feathers’. Go.” The sun gracefully touched the young lad’s face. He had a sly grin as he lay down on the warm summer grass. The girl besides him bit her lip, nodding a few times.

“Once below the sky,
a child did wonder why,
he saw the birds up high,
waving their wings in the sky.

He begged his father ‘let me defy,
the laws that binds our lives’”

She stopped for a second, narrowing her eyes before continuing. The boy opened his eyes up wide, but was stopped by his friend, who calmly continued her reciting.

“His father did then reply
With a simply spark in his eye
He handed his son a woollen cloth
And told him he could fly.”

The blonde youngster jumped up, letting her skirt flail in the wind, bowing down with a smile on her face. He sat up, clapping his hands with an impressed smile.

“Is there any song or story you –don’t- remember?” he grinned at her.

The girl shook her head.

“No. Any story I ever heard-“ she tapped her head confidently “I remember.” She turned around, staring into the distance, at the castle.

“What about… Faces? Places?” he looked up at her. He couldn’t be more than in the fourteenth year of his life, and neither could the girl be. They were undisturbed in the wild, close to the lonely tree. The Western Kingdoms were always so beautiful this time of the year. The grass in the west was filled with life, nourishing the animals that roamed the lively plains.

“Anything.” She nodded.

“And yet you can’t read.” He smirked.

“Shush. It isn’t my fault. I told you, the letters just… They don’t stay in place!” She burst out, folding her arms angrily.

“Easy. I was joking.” The boy got up, brushing his pants off.

“Hilarious.” She muttered, still staring at the town down the hills.

“You told her?” he had lowered his voice, eyeing Eliana, who simply moved her head from side to side, in a calm motion.

“She wouldn’t understand. You know her.” The girl rolled her shoulder.

“You’ll be back right? Someday?” the boy asked, now stepping up besides his friend. She turned to him, smiling slightly.

“It’s not like I’ll forget you:”

“You better not. I’ll call horseshite on your memory then.” He smirked. “Go save us all then, Ghost.”

The girl giggled, once again shaking her head at the boy. They met in a hug, before the boy stepped back and looked down, filled with a melancholic feeling. Eliana picked up her satchel, swinging it over her shoulder and sighing deeply. The two had been friends for so many years, yet this was the first that Ellie actually had to leave. She had been able to be taught for a long time in the West, and only now was required to leave it. Duty, Jonius had told her. Apparently it wasn’t everyone who could do what she, and a few others could. There wasn’t much of a choice, or rather, much of an appealing other option.

“Someday.” He said, trying to force a kind smile on his lips.

“Someday, Jack.” She replied.

Present day

The darkness had consumed her. Wrapped itself around her body and mind, keeping it locked in place. She wasn’t sure if she was awake, or even alive. Her body reacted to something, but it wasn’t her decision. Something else was doing it. Something was in control. Unsure whether or not she had gone completely insane, Eliana thought she could sense the sound of a voice echoing in her head. A series of pictures flashed before her, and it was all too confusing to make sense.

Suddenly it all stopped. She felt some of her power returning to her, as she stood somewhere isolated, yet open. There was nothing but darkness all around her, but she was still able to see, there just wasn’t anything else. Not until a smoky cloud emerged from the darkened ground. It didn’t end up as an actual figure, more just an… outline of a figure. It seemed to be grinning at her, the voice still echoing in her mind. It approached her, and waved it’s hand in a slow motion towards her, and then away, simultaneously Ellie felt her energy coming back to her, and then being drawn from her.

“You must understand… I now control both you… “ Some other cloud formed up next to Eliana, but simply stood stiff and starred into nothingness. “And … parts of your friend.” The figure channelled some strange dark strings around himself and laughed from the power rush again. “But you walkers, you’re so much easier to control…”

Ellie felt her power drawn again, and collapsed to the ground, as her vision became blurry.

“You, I and a few other people will change the world, dear. I’m looking forward to it.”

Her eyes opened up.