Chapter 21: When it rains...

The tent was brimming with the murmur between various officers and knights. Leofric sat in his chair and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and index-finger while sighing. After his encounter with the Lady of the Lake he had somehow found his way back to Lowburg, though strangely enough he had emerged fom the Silent Woods. He had suspected that the Lady or some of her elusive gentry had guided him back onto the beaten path without him ever knowing about it. He had immediately summoned his knights and the army's officers to the command tent raised outside of town and explained to them what had happened. At the start some of them had doubted the story's credibility, not that they ever dared to speak up and say it directly to their king. As a nail to the coffin, Leofric had drawn his sword to display the shimmering white light that surrounded the steel. After that there had been no more doubt - in fact, some of the men even seemed relieved by the knowledge that some higher power was watching over them.

A young lad on horseback had arrived not long after Leofric's return. The youngster had been garbed in the typical messenger's attire and his news had been dire. Word was that an otherwordly army had supposedly appeared out of nowhere and laid siege to the capital city of Monarch's Rise. A desperate battle had raged outside its walls but ultimately the defenders had been overwhelmed. According to the messenger's sources, the royal keep remained in friendly hands, but it was likely it wouldn't remain so for long. Furthermore, the messenger had informed Leofric that a force of obsidian armoured soldiers participated in the battle. Leofric was well aware of the soldiers in questions. The Knights of the First King, or more commonly known as the Grave Guard, was a highly skilled knightly order that answered directly to the king. The Grave Guard's mission was to guard each and every graveyard and cemetary in the Northlands, as well as pursuing and annihilating occult forces with malevolent intent - both phyiscal and spiritual. It had come as no surprise to Leofric to hear that these knights had been quick to join the field of battle.

Leofric idly drummed a few digits against one of the chair's arms and he suddenly felt terribly weary. He barely had enough time to rout one enemy before another beset his country. Eventually he pushed himself up from his seat and the tent fell silent - all eyes were on the king now, the officers and knights anxiously waited for their monarch to inform them on their next course of action.

"Like you, I have no idea who this enemy is or where they came from. But their intent is clear and we are at war with yet another foe." Leofric stepped away from his chair and moved across the tent to a large board that had been set up, a large map detailing the Northlands pinned upon it. Leofric pointed to a spot on the map, a castle with the name Monarch's Rise beneath it.
"Whatever they seek to achieve, it initially lies with the capital. They have ignored the surrounding lands and only carved a bloody path through the city. The keep still holds, but I suspect our enemy will eventually attempt to claim it. We will use this opportunity to mobilize against them. Scribe!"

A middle-aged man stepped forth from the crowd of officials with a board held in one hand and a quill in the other. Leofric eyeballed the scribe briefly before nodding. The scribe knew what to do next.
"I want every garrison from Knight's Rest to West Hearth to muster their troops and rally here - at Hunter's Hill." Leofric pointed between two locations before tapping a finger against a final, third location on the map. "Send word to Admiral Aversbury as well, inform him to move his fleet into a blockade here." Leofric gestured to the oceanic space on the map to the east of the capital. He then fell silent and watched the scribe, ensuring that he managed to keep up with noting everything down.

"Send out messengers at once. I also want outriders heading for the capital. They are to report any changes in the situation there. Get to it." Leofric dismissed them with a gesture and the group of officers and knights, along with the scribe promptly left the tent to get to work. The king watched his men leave and kept his gaze on the tent's opening for a few moments. His thoughts were spinning around in his head. Who was this new enemy and what exactly did they want? What was their grudge? Leofric had no idea. All he knew was that they had been caught completely off-guard by this unprovoked invasion, and that his enemy was not human.

He sighed. The Lady warned him about dark days approaching, but he never thought it would be this soon.

Walter
Chapter 9: A trip to the library



Rain smattered heavily against the window to their left, in the center of the small room a singular candle stood upon a simple round table. Its light was enough to make the three individuals' faces visible, all but the Spirit Walker who wore his hood far over his head.
”This is all very ominous, but would you care to explain the point to it now? Or do you suppose that I should guess it?” Walter leaned forward, he had been quiet in his protest until now but the mystery these two were shying away from was growing more interesting.
”It's best that you see it for yourself, Andalus.” Simoron replied, the witch sat casually in her own chair, her bright emerald eyes shone in contrast to the candle's and she smiles in sly knowing. ”I assure you it will all be quite clear.”
Walter looked at Larnicus, who said nothing. Then he peered back to Simoron and he swayed a hand.
”Then carry on, Simoron.” He said. And the witch did. Walter saw as she brought her hands forward, she performed rigid and stale motions, grasps and clutches of her hands that was different than any spellcasting that Walter knew, there was no fluidity, no motion or anchoring that was tied to wordly things. The spell was crude and dry, without emotion and its effect Walter could not guess. He looked back to the candle, its flame started to sway and flicker along with every move that the witch made. It contorted and twitched, as if the natural state of the fire fought against the witch's control. Walter started to wonder where this would lead, but before he could draw any thoughts he heard the voice of Larnicus to his right. The spirit Walker was finally speaking.
”From the Flame comes life. A power as mirrored as life's hypocritical illusions. From the Flame comes death. A truth defined by our existance in this Realm. For those who walk between it, in a world not of death, neither life – Flame is tangible, it is not our creator, nor our destroyer.” The voice came clear, Larnicus spoke in a way unhindered by any other sound, even the smattering against the window had silenced in respect of the Walker's chant. Walter sat frozen in his chair, listening to the Walker's words while staring at the flickering flame.
”The Flame is our tool. We are its masters and we shall dictate the fate of worlds, ours is the jurisdiction, ours is the vote and ours... Is the Execution.” There was a pause, Walter felt goosebumps rise across his back.
”Look into the fire, Andalus. And you shall witness the truth.”
Walter did. He felt his gaze draw toward the candle where it stood, now entirely azure blue, it flickered and twitched no longer. It stood tame and controlled, awaiting its receiver. Walter stared at it and as he stared the blue flame became larger, it spread out across his field of vision and blotted out both the Spirit Walker and the Witch. In the end all that he could see was the blue fire that encased him, it danced and weaved around him, blinding bright but he could not stop staring. The blue flame took over, there was nothing else. Until...

A courtyard. He had been moved, maybe even teleported. Walter looked around himself and saw the cobbled streets of a city he did not know, it was a ruin, decrepit and wasted past a millennium. In the central square stood the moss-covered remains of a fountain and on all sides were the fallen ruins of houses, cathedrals and castles. They spread far into the thundering skyline, towering crumbled spires and opulent statues of kings and heroes who had been slain long ago. Finally he looked down upon himself, his arms emitted a strange glow as did the rest of the body. As if he had been coated in an azure colour that shone a mild blue. He moved his hand and observed it for a minute, after a moment he concluded this must be spiritual magic. While his body wasn't here, he assumed his entire spiritual essence was. A manifestation of his own soul in corporeal form.
”How peculiar.” He noted and set his eyes back around himself. The dark square was empty but for him. How was it possible that a witch and a Spirit Walker could draw forth such magic? How had they discovered it? Walter took an uneasy step and noticed that walking was just the same, as was all of his physical actions. He canted his head and pondered before extending his right arm, he shut his eye and focused for a moment upon the arcane power around him, searching for something to bend. ”That can't be right...” He muttered and flexed the spread hand and the very air around him drew in. Wherever he was it held such a magical force that even the air was subject to a mage's grasp. Walter weaved his hand and looked as the air infront of him split in two. A tear in the very fabric of the world, on its opposite side he could see the dark void of the next realm. Walter swung his hand back and the tear promptly closed. He stopped all casting in fear of tarnishing reality and looked around the ruined city once more. ”Tara'Sufal.” He concluded, in only slight disbelief.

The city must have been the wonder of the world in its time. Walter could imagine where buildings once stood, beaming with alacrity and well being. Now the buildings lay crooked and fallen. A testament to what this city once was, and what it could have been. As Walter progressed he came to realize the city was empty. Not a soul or a single creature. From what he had read about the Outworld, which is where he assumed to be , it would be swarming with various creatures and Fables. There were none now and he made his way up a tall staircase unhindered by anyone else. The stairs led to a pantheon building, it was rounded and stood untop of a tall hill in the center of the city, Walter could see how the cityscape spread like a gray, ruined mass miles and miles in every direction. Towers and spires pointed up to the thundering clouds above but most were fallen short and crumbled. Walter made his way to the large doors of the building and opened them, he was met by a most wondrous sight. Information. Inside stood bookcases on every edge of the room, they spread in a labyrinth of wooden shelves littered with unending literature. Here was the knowledge of an entire civilization that had mastered science, magic and philosophy. Walter smiled and took a step inside. There was a sound, a rumble in the distance of the vast library. Walter looked toward the sound and then jumped in a startled noise. Several of the shelves came crashing down, something stampeded across them, tearing through wood and paper in its wake. Walter gasped at the wanton destruction and narrowed his eyes. A shelf came flying far above his head and smashed into the wall, splinters rained down upon him but he was fixated upon the creature responsible. It stood upon four limbs, indifferent from each other they were all pale milky white, its skin was that of blisters and scorch marks, the long limbs ended in thick cloved feet that scurried through the library in a frenzy. The creature turned its small, horrendous head to the sorcerer and fixated its two eyes on him, bloodshot and wide they looked upon him with murderous intent, it opened its maw and revealed the pincers that would undoubtedly tear him apart in seconds. Walter stood his ground, staring back at the creature. He would stand no chance against this beast in any actual battle. But he was no ordinary man, especially here. The Spider creature came rushing toward him, its limbs contorting unnaturally as it sprung toward the entrance where Walter stood. He took a single breath and locked his eyes upon the far end of the library, looking past the beast. With a single flutter of his eyes and a single breath taken he had moved, and now stood on the opposite side of the room. He turned and saw the creature crash against the smaller door, it scrambled and shrieked, furious as to have lost its prey. Walter had been right, moving across the void here was no consequence, which implied so much more... Walter rose his hand, swinging it in a singular pattern that he repeated, back and forth. After three turns around he brought his other hand upward as well. The creature had located him again and prepared its charge, shrieking into the air, spitting some sort of liquid upward. Walter rose his hands and with it every splintered piece of wood that lay across the floor hovered up, floating precariously in the air above them. The creature came at him again, clopping its cloves in a mad charge, Walter narrowed his eyes, took a breath and quickly thrust both of his hands forward and down. The debris he had grasped all flew down, honed in on the charging creature's warpath. They pierced with great speed into the creature's limbs, its small body and its weak head from above. The splinters of wood struck deep into the beast and it roared in tremendous pain, immediately stumbling and falling onto the floor in a terrible crash. It spun its limbs about in fury but failed to rise, bleeding sickly blood upon the ground and splashing it upon itself. Walter narrowed his brow in focus and spun his arms about in a secondary spellcast. He focused upon the blood spilt by the beast and by clenching his hands he gained control of that as well. The blood began to putter and boil, and the further Walter focused and the longer he held it, the warmer it became, the creature shrieked and stumbled again, crashing its head against more of the bookshelves as the searing heat left burns and pains across its body as well as within. This battle was forfeit.
”Out with you!” Said Walter, he could feel the rush of the arcane come upon him, he acted by instinct now, letting the blood within him and the power around him guide his actions. He spun his hands in a fluid motion and then thrust his palms forward. The creature seemed to freeze up mid-motion as the air around it cracked open. Several seams of reality suddenly burst open and were again promptly closed. The creature could not shriek any longer, the few parts of it that were still left in this realm fell down to the floor with a plain thud. As for the parts that had been moved. They would hardly bother anyone again.

Walter sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. He looked around and noticed the destruction caused by both him and the beast and he solemnly realized what had happened here so long ago. He shook his head and huffed out a tired breath before turning away from the destruction – There were books to be read.

The horses rode into the camp of the Order. Both Miriam and Eliana were dropped dead on each their own horse, with their riders nonchalantly trotting along. Freda sat upon a horse of her own, nodding her greetings to the soldiers in the camp. Her glance went briefly to Ellie and Miriam, one looking worse than the other. She had tried to count the times one could actually see their eyes looking around, and the number was unnervingly low. The girls were taken further into the camp, as Freda parted with them, heading for the Commander’s tent.

Sir Leon and Sir Yulfrick hadn’t spoken much on the way back, and had barely looked upon the two women. The one the Princess had referred to as Miriam lay almost completely still over the horse, with a sound escaping her every now and then. She wasn’t looking well, and the Princess had kept the details to a minimum. They were simply to get the girls to the healers, saying they had been attacked. Leon looked over his shoulder, having opened his visor to glance upon the blonde woman. The head was hanging loosely, and the body trembling at times. She wore a torn dress, and upon her arms were strange markings, almost looking as if they had ripped the skin open. Unsure if he was going insane or not, Leon seemed to spot a faint purple glow outlining the markings. The knight decided to shrug it off, riding towards the healers.

Leon and Yulfrick dismounted their horses, each of them carrying one of the two girls. They were brought into two separate tents. Leon stepped inside, lowering his head as he walked under the blanket covering the entrance. Inside stood a man, who turned around and raised an eyebrow at Leon.

“What’s this, Sir Leon?” He asked; peering at the sorry excuse of a girl, whilst gesturing him to lay her upon the bed located inside. Leon stepped forward, laying the girl down; he stood up, removing his helmet before speaking.

“She’s one of two the Princess brought along. She did not tell us much, and we didn’t ask. They were attacked, it seemed. By dark magic or some sort. You do what you do, Cleric.” Leon looked down at Eliana, grimacing slightly at her. Though he did not know her well, it still brought pain to him to see anyone like that. It was a sort of sleep, but though she was calm, she looked to be in pain. The Cleric wiped his hands, looking at the knight. He cracked a brief smile before asking.

“I know you don’t think it looks like I do much, but I do more than just stare at them.” Tallof grinned at the knight, who returned the grin with a scoff. Leon bowed quickly and left the tent without another word. Tallof smirked to himself, before approaching the girl. He studied her carefully, frowning at the sight. The cleric let his hands carefully feel her forehead, sighing at the high temperature.

“What are you fighting?” he muttered, feeling her neck, ensuring that she was even still alive. Tallof furrowed his brow, having a hard time even finding out if she was breathing. The man loosened the top of the torn dress, feeling upon her heart. He let out a sigh of relief as he felt the heart beating ever so slowly and careful. Tallof shifted his gaze to her arm, tilting his head. His eyes widened up as he saw the markings with the faint purplish glow. With a shift jog he ran to his table, running through all the books he carried, seemingly looking for something specific.

Cold. Yet warm. Hollow… yet filled. Alive, yet dead.

Eliana was torn apart. She could no longer feel her body, if feel anything at all. She felt so weak, so defeated and drained. Pictures and scenarios each took their turn to flash before her in a slow and incomprehensible manner. Eliana couldn’t make sense of them, and barely even noticed them at times. So many different voices haunted her mind, or what was left of it. Time had passed for what felt like years. She sat in darkness, not being anything close to alive. It was as if she had been there for an unimaginable long time, just staring into nothingness and trying to realize if she was in fact still alive. When something finally happened, it was so blurry and slow.

Something lit up in the distance, a faint light. Ellie barely reacted at all, one would start to question if it was just an empty body sitting alone. But the thing approached. A little wolf pup, or the outline of one, lit up by a white light. Eliana looked upon it, having acknowledged none of it was real, or originated from her mind. The pup tilted it’s head, before almost being blown away by a breeze, fading into light. She turned her head to look after it, but simply fell to the ground. Her eyes did not close and her body simply lay still. But she had seen death, so much death, and this wasn’t it. It was a strange state of mind. The woman was holding on to something, almost with consent. Nothing psychical, perhaps hope? Maybe the hope of life still existing, but yet, it felt as years had passed since she first came to this place. Trapped, kept safe, dead, whatever. The voice had stopped speaking to her. She was alone, alone in here.

But then came a warm sensation, some sort of warmth followed by light, fire, perhaps? She felt herself again, and the pain that followed. It cracked a strange smile. Eliana had not missed pain, but simply feeling. Her vision darkened.

Tallof looked down upon the woman, as he breathed heavily. He retracted his hand again, trying to regain his energy. She moved, not a lot, but she did. Her eyes opened up slowly, and Tallof tried to offer her a friendly smile. Though she looked in his direction, it seemed she looked right through him.

Eliana heard the words, but could not make sense of them. It was so dark still, but she felt the world around her. A man spoke to her, and she rose up her wounded arm, shaking as she tried to find him. When her hand finally found his face she froze. Lowly, she muttered out.

“I don’t-… see… I don’t…”

Miriam
Chapter 20: To eat a soup

Tasted poorly. Miriam gazed into the brown broth that quivered gently inside the plain wooden bowl. She poked her equally plain spoon into it and discovered that there was in fact meat inside. Chicken, she'd have to assume. Floating beside the piece of chicken were the occasional slices of dry potato. "How do the potatoes manage to be dry, when they're in a soup?" Miriam pondered to herself, and then lowered her spoon into the broth again, to acquire more of it. With a tired motion she guided the spoon into her mouth and she sucked up the liquid and chewed idly on the singular slice of potato she'd found. She kept the spoon within her mouth, gnawing on it, it really didn't taste worse than the soup itself. Miriam glanced down to her right where Leia sat panting next to her, the dog was familiar with being given scraps and she had put on her most friendly of expressions, the dog whined in a questionnaire and tilted her head, letting one of her fluffy ears droop. Miriam smiled, albeit tiredly and she picked out a slab of chicken, passing it on down to the dog, who slobbered the piece down without curtsy. Miriam pet her friend untop of the head and looked back to her bowl. She shuddered and paused her lame eating for a moment to drag her heavy blanket further around herself. The small tent was rather warm compared to the wild, but Miriam had been cold since she woke up. The peculiar man, whom Miriam assumed to be the 'Healer' Freda mentioned before had said that it would pass and that she would recover in due time. He said that she had been lucky, Miriam did not feel very lucky. In fact she felt horrible. She sighed heavily and slumped her shoulders in defeat, leaning against the table with her arms.
"What are we even doing, Leia?" She asked, desperate for the dog to answer her. To give a reason for her being here, in this fort on the border of Death, with people that she would not have spared more than a glance before. There were so many and she heard them as they walked around outside, soldiers passed her tent often, conversing about this and that in their peculiar southern accents. The most common topic was the Princess. She had actually been a Princess this entire time, Miriam huffed and shook her head in disbelief yet again. Freda the Princess. Miriam turned her head and glanced to the flaps of the tent where the Healer had left through, when asked about Ellie he had only said that she was alive and recovering. Miriam accepted the good news for what they were: Inconclusive - She would have left to find her but she doubted the guard posted just outside of her tent would allow her to leave. She hardly had the energy to do so, either way. Miriam rubbed her grainy eyes and yawned. Leia whined again at her side, pleading for some attention. Miriam lent the dog a glance and then smiled, petting the large beast's head as she rested it against her master's lap. "Good girl." Miriam murmured, scuffing the back of the dog's ear lovingly. "Good girl..."

Some time passed, Miriam had poked her spoon against the soup but made little progress in eating it, the flaps of the tent moved aside and the healer returned, bearing a kind if tired smile. The man was middle-aged but seemed energetic. He wore simple clothes beneath a long piece of red cloth that wrapped around from his right shoulder around his torso, the surcoat bore a golden emblem of a burning bird upon it and Miriam remembered it as the same she had seen in her dream.
"Feeling better?" He asked her and he looked over her in observation. Miriam would have performed one of her usual shrugs but lacked the energy, she simply shimmied the blanket over her a bit and then slumped back down against the table.
"In comparison? Yeah." She said. Leia had moved, approaching the Cleric with a friendly wag of her tail apparent. The man bowed down and pet Leia over the head, his eyes still held on Miriam.
"Quite the companion, you have. A Whinchester, if I'm not mistaken. Rare breed." The man was actually making small-talk, Miriam groaned internally and would rather just be left alone. Any questions she had could wait until after she'd slept for a day or two. "What's his name?" The Cleric asked furthermore.
"Leia." Said Miriam. "She's Leia." And out of need to avoid conversation she spooned some of her lukewarm soup. It still tasted awful.
"Leia?" The Cleric pondered, mainly to himself and he stroked his sharp chin thoughtfully. "Beautiful name. I am Tallof. A Cleric of the Holy Order, maybe not such a beautiful name, aheh..." He paused, peering at Miriam in silence, obviously expecting a name in return. When Miriam said nothing he sighed and returned to speaking. "You will be glad to hear that your friend is recovering. As I understand it She is... Quite a rare one, as well." He smiled somewhat, Miriam turned her head to look at the Cleric and her expression was clearly disconcerting to him. "Ahem." He corrected himself as well as the colours he wore. "Of course, she may never recover completely. Neither may you, I might add. Death's magic has that effect upon the soul. I will of course attempt my very best to help both of you." He said cordially, and smiled politely. Miriam never trusted polite smiles, people were liars and such smiles were only masks, she knew that much. She only needed to find out now; what play these actors were performing and how she could get off the stage again... She brought her spoon into the bowl and then into her mouth, she ate their soup. For now.

"You... what are you!?" The Watcher cried, tensing his hands around the warp-wood staff. Enid set the skeletal face-guard around his heft belt's clasp and gripped his sword tightly in the opposing hand. The face he bore was, to the most surprise, of a very handsome man. His eyes were laced with starlight and his face was smoothed like a teenager girls. Yet held more weight than possibly imaginable to any Human. He was scarred and had the stare to freeze any fire within. His lips curled into a soft, dangerous smile and the King bowed his head low in jest. Before long the Watcher was surrounded by Rider after Rider, they all readied their hands around their weapons and grinned eagerly underneath their skeletal face-guards. The Watcher sighed, giving one glance behind him before standing up-right. He lost all volatility in his stance and the King raised his hand and the Knight's would lower their weapons.

His boots crunched over the cobbles on the bridge too the Keep and ice followed his step. A thin smile spread over his lips and her sheathed his weapon. He knew their chat would be short, but a potentially vital one. He took a calculating tone, having to pause to think of the right words to say. "My predecessor wanted carnage. To end everything. You know full well where we come from and I am the ushering of a thousand anguished cries. The endless torment of a million souls that -push- on this plain. To end all evil, a little bit of it must be dabbled on. Your world is dying just like mine did, so long ago." He paused, touching a hand over his breast and presumingly where his beating heart lay. The sincere moment ended as his head turned to look behind him and a coarse shout left his lips to the Knight's behind the Walker to make them prepare something in the distance. "I do not want death. No, no, it would only hasten the end. We only seek sanctuary. But to do so in this world, you must claim it. All and everyone will come to stop me, but they will be busy soon. Too busy to notice. Too busy to stop it. They cry out for war and cannot even fight it themselves! You, on the other hand, can prevent it all. Join me in my quest to restore balance once more. To seek an end and see my people housed. These... cultists that rally to me as their 'dark' lord are puppets. Nothing more than a filth and vagabond to stir the darkness. They cannot last, no spirit will allow them to live. I will outcast them soon. Then you will see my true intentions."
The Walker kept a stern gaze on the man's visage, staring down his otherworldly complexion with confusion, doubt, envy and anger. He replied with the only word that ever came to mind. "No. Never." He shook his head, almost disappointed and turned away only to vanish in a plume of blue smoke that ate his form in moments. The Riders of Black and Red turned in uproar, jeers and cackles came from them in their refined language - if not brutal in their hands. They had began to collect every single civilian that drew breath in Monarch's Rise before the long bridge to the Capital's keep, in the large plaza just before it the line grew. As many man and women long and deep as it could possible go.

The cries of anguished souls rippled from the walls outside the keep, the King snapped his head and snarled in displeasure. He waved his hand and barked in the same tongue to have the Knight's quickly disappear to conduct whatever order he gave. Leaving behind the King and his entourage of a hundred Honour Guard's, draped just like him yet lacked the Steel Crown of Conquest, his most powerful and prized possession. The anguished cries outside the walls turned to blood-curling cries of death and mercy as every single cultist outside the walls began to feel the wrath of the Black One. "Here their cries! The hollering of monsters and demons! The void, they call it here! I call it heresy! To the heights calling and stature. I am -done- with games. Done with lies and deceit and WAITING!" He turned about, stretching out his arms to the Keep that was lined with the remaining guard in the enchanted Keep of Monarch's Rise; they may not even know it, but the hallowed ground they stood on was nigh impenetrable to anything but heavy artillery. And even that would take too long, thus Enid, the King of the Riders in Red and Black, motioned to the poor, unfortunate souls laid out in the plaza. "I will treat with you, brave souls of the North. I will give you safe passage, but you must leave -MY- Keep. Only then will you save these innocents. The remainder, if not... they die to fuel my weapon to destroy you. Either way, I will win!"

The Crown atop his brown began to glow a voracious energy, glowing an unknowing white as his gauntlet. It possessed an odd, glowing orb within; the orb spiked out with energy - it was a façade. But clearly he trusted these lowlifes not to know. Finally, from the walls, a man shouted out with authority in his tone. "And who are you, Crowned Killer, to tell us to surrender!? We are loyal to the King, as are all those... innocents you threaten to kill! We do not trust you, or your riders! Be gone from these lands and never return!" The Castellan or even the King, he concluded. The King of the Riders lowered his hands and groaned quietly, there was little time for a siege and he could not feed any of these pesky Human's; their appetite too fickle and droll for his tastes. Yet he seemed almost hesitant to condemn every single one of them to the sword - such brutality was not fitting of a King crowned. Not a King of such power. He turned again, glancing back up to the Keep. He took a step forward, which was met with a volley of arrows - he dismissed it with a wave of energy and kept going, stopping before the raised draw-bridge. His voice boomed out.
"The right of Conquest is clear, guardian of home! Would you truly condemn these thousands to the sword!? I will give the command right now and my engines will roar with souls until they burst!" He needed to display power thus he turned, motioning to a staff-wielding Rider on a horse and bellowed in an old, forgotten tongue that held a mystic air too it. "Azaz'cor den! Fes len dor wrath! [Raise the gates! Show them our engines, quickly!]"

Within moments of the command several other Magi-like Riders, wielding orbed staves, teleported in from the edges of the giant, huddled mass of meat and behind them began to raise a magical gate of swirling ice. The magic held aloft by nigh ten mages of similar garb that the Riders were becoming well known for. The cries of the anguished and dead roar out from outside before abruptly dying off. Soon after portals started to ripple open over the city as the remaining Riders, fit from their slaughter, rode in with cultists heads aplenty - no room was there in his Kingdom any-more. No more would the Void control every fibre of their conquest. No more. The portal exploded in energy, sending a few poor, crying Human's deeper into the pile with a chilling wind of winter that it froze the walls, houses and everything else it could touch; no harm came to the living beings as Knight's absorbed the energy to keep them alive, if only barely - they being utterly immune to their own magic. Or perhaps just magic in general... it was impossible to truly tell.

The outcome was a shock to those on the wall and every other Human there. The thing that rippled from the portal was a frozen block of ice which quickly thawed into something akin to a barrelled dome with several holes sticking out of it. It hummed with white snows and began to emit an energy that screamed out at them, all be it like an icy wind. It hungered.

Enid grinned, turning around to face the high curtain wall of the Keep and smiled thinly, motioning to the construct that stood just as tall as the houses, perhaps even higher; nigh reaching the top of the walls. It caused immense panic amongst the Human captives that excited most of the Riders, they readied their weapons and awaited their order. They started to scatter duplicated and decapitated heads of withered dead things amongst the people to make them shout louder, all for added affect he concluded. "Do you see now my power! You are hopeless. Take these people and find a new home. I offer you safe passage through my new Kingdom. Take your people and go, this is my final offer." He dips his head and wanders off, half expecting to be shot in the back but he did not fear it. Enid walked on fearlessly towards his Knight's and began to shift through the crowds of people which only stirred more fear at simply how he looked. "Anal el dal voran. [They cry over my visage.]" He said, sending an uproar of hallow laughs and even more screams from the terrified populace.

...There was no response from the Keep, only a raven... Enid watched it fly over head and smiled, he knew where it was going.

Chapter 22: Hunter's Hill

Clopping hooves struck against the paved road in abundance, announcing the approaching column long before it was seen. Dark-grey banners with with gilded lions tore through the chilly breeze, held proudly by the riders honored with carrying the Northlands' standards. A small collection of buildings appeared on the right side of the road, and the people who lived there were fully occupied with emptying their houses of what belongings they had into small carts. News of the capital's fate had already spread a fair distance, though upon spotting the soldiers passing by, with no other than the king himself at the head of the army, the commoners hesitated. A few of them glanced between themselves in silent questioning before they slowly started to empty the carts this time. Perhaps they didn't have to flee, not yet. Someone was going to stop the phantom invaders.

They passed other groups of refugees on the road, mothers clutching their frightened younglings and fathers and sons conversing amongst themselves on where to seek sanctuary. Leofric glanced over his shoulder to peer down the column, watching as interspersed knights leaned down from their saddles to offer their own coin and bread to the desperate folks on the run. The knights received a myriad of good-wishes and blessings by the refugees that gingerly held onto their clinking tickets that would see them as far away as possible from the horrors of the capital.

Leofric leered skywards. There was no sun, not a tiny shed of warmth. Clouds stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, releasing a mild snowfall that slowly descended to the ground. At least it wasn't a storm. He sighed and reached down to a leather cylinder strapped to his right leg, and extracted a missive from it. They had been marching for half a day before the messenger had arrived with it, and the Castellan of the royal keep spoke of a huge device raised inside the capital city, with seemingly enough power to level the whole keep if the enemy leader willed it - their "king". Leofric scoffed to himself. He couldn't help but feel slightly amused over the arrogance of his new foe. The Northlands had no place for two kings.

They marched for another few hours, passing several other groups of refugees. Eventually a massive oak towered itself up in the distance, standing upon a hill with a wooden building beneath the protective branches. Tents and fires surrounded Hunter's Hill with dark silhouettes darting between them. The troops Leofric had summoned for were already present, and a series of horn blasts announced the new army approaching from the south. Distant cheering from the camp soon reached the king's ears, and although the odds were against them, Leofric had something his enemy did not - the courage of Men.

The door leading into the house opened. The hunter's lodge was a quaint thing, not necessarily belonging to anyone, but hunters frequently used it as a way station during long hunts, especially in the winter. Now it had been refurbished to a command post of sorts, with a large table in the center with several maps upon it, surrounded by a group of men. The soldiers turned around to face the door and subsequently bowed their heads for the royalty that had entered. Leofric marched across the creaking floorboards and took up a spot by the table while tugging off his gloves. The soldiers turned around again, and one of them - wearing a high-ranking officer's breastplate, spoke up first.
"We're all relieved that you are alive, your grace. Many of us feared the worst when we heard about the sacking of Lowburg."

Leofric nodded somewhat and glanced down at the map. Several lines detailing troop movement through the land and preliminary outrider reports regarding enemy positions had been sketched out on the map. He felt some relief that the enemy locations had only been marked in just an approximate mile radius around the capital city.
"Outriders report that a large number of enemy troops have bunkered down around Monarach's Rise, and that the land itself has twisted since this force arrived. Taking back the city won't be easy. It's going to cost us a lot of good men.", the officer continued.

Leofric glanced up at the officer for the first time. He was an elderly man with greying hair and a gruff beard, weary features and piercing blue eyes. The king recognized him, as he did with all his generals. "General Castleroy, have you received any word at all about the north?"
The general shrugged a shoulder and scratched his cheek. "No, your grace. The outriders don't dare to cirumvent the city in fear of being spotted by enemy patrols. I could have them use the smaller roads, but it's going to take them a few days longer to reach our northern regions."

The king knocked a few knuckles against the table. "Do so. I will send a raven to Fort Royal and inform our Midway guests of the threat we face and dispatch riders to harass the enemy meanwhile. Make your preparations, general. We march in the morning."

The same evening Leofric watched as the raven departed and flew south on its path towards Fort Royal. He glanced after it a few moments longer before spinning around on his heels to march through the camp. He approached a cluster of tents where a handful of armored men sat around a fire, jesting and laughing with one another.
"Sir Arthur. Take a hundred men and ride north, carve through what enemy you can find and give them a reason to glance over their shoulders. Remind them of where they are."

One of the men around the fire briskly rose up to his feet and grinned. "It will be my pleasure, sire!"

A light breeze blew through the camp, moving the tents slightly. Some of the soldiers scoffed at it, looking into the night. The soldiers were small talking, minding their own business. Tallof walked out of Miriam’s tent, sniffing in the refreshing air. He nodded to himself, taking off towards the supply tents. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, burying his face in the jacket. The knights greeted him along the way, with kind smiles on their faces. Tallof returned them with a nod, still walking in a swift pace.

Inside the tent stood a woman, handling the supplies and noting down with a quill. She rose her head, giving Tallof a smile as he entered. Taina was a middle-aged woman, standing with a rather slim body, but still muscular beneath the colours she wore. Her hair was short and barely touched the end of her ears. Said hair was a light brown, always reminding Tallof of a strange bird he once saw in the East, though it’s fate was flying directly into a tree. He concluded that it must’ve had a bad vision, or just a bad day.

“Well? What can I help you with?” Taina spoke up with her rash voice, still offering a smile to Tallof.

“Mhm! Right! I need some things for our newly arrived guests. A carrot maybe, for the dog.” He nodded, and tapped his chin. “And … Saph’s Leaf, crushed to powder.” Tallof smiled, looking around.

Taina raised her eyebrow, almost laughing as if he was joking. She quickly realised otherwise, sighing.

“Why can’t you ever ask for something simple, more carrots maybe. Saph’s Leaf… Flame’s flight…!” She muttered as if it was a curse, beginning to look through the boxes.

Sir Leon wandered about the camp, glancing around with his hands clasped behind his back. The knight stopped swiftly, looking to his side. Next to a box sat a sad piece of Henry Kenneth, whimpering with a bottle in his hand. Leon sighed, rolling his eyes before speaking to the man.

“What did you do now?” Leon spoke in a monotone voice, not caring much for Henry.

Henry looked up, taking another sip.

“I walked into a branch, a’ight?” the man sniffed, dismissively waving his hand.

“As much as I would believe that, you never flood yourself with mead when that happens. Tell me now, or don’t, I won’t be offended if you don’t.” Leon said, looking at the man with some sort of friendliness, all that Leon could produce at least.

“Sit you tin-can.” Henry muttered and so Leon did, muttering at his plate.

“I could’ve lost her, Leo, I could-“ the knight interrupted Kenneth.

“Leon.”

Kenneth sighed.

“Leon. I could’ve lost her and I didn’t even help!” he whimpered out.

“Who?” Leon rose his eyebrow at the drunk.

“The Princess of course! She was in trouble and all I did was run! What if she had died out there!?” Henry drunkenly shouted out, continuing to feel bad for himself.

This time Leon sighed.

“First of all, your lust for the princess is startin’ to worry me. Second of all, you didn’t just run. You got the riders to go fetch them, mhm? So you helped.” Leon said, pushing himself up, agreeing to himself that his session of being a listener was over.

“I think she hates me.” Henry said to himself, as the knight brushed off the dirt.

“Women can be like that. But don’t forget what you are, now. Knowing Princess Risley, she would’ve gutted you if she didn’t see –some- use in you. So cheer up. Not in mead, you’ve gotten plenty.” Leon nodded towards the man.

“You know, you can be nice sometimes, in your own way. I know smiling isn’t your favourite activity, but we appreciate when you do, alright?” Kenneth looked up, blinking. Leon was nowhere to see, and Henry sighed to himself.

“Alright… G’night then.”

Tallof entered the tent, looking to the bed. The girl sat up, staring into the end of the tent, still with those lost eyes. Tallof grimaced, clearing his throat. Eliana looked around for the voice, who placed himself next to her with a small bowl.

“I’ll be trying something, mhm? Should cease the pain in the eyes, and prevent any future bleeding.” Tallof said, dipping a cloth into the wetted liquid. He tapped the cloth on Ellie’s eyes without a warning, causing her to flinch. Whilst he tapped them carefully, Tallof studied the girl briefly. The markings on her arm had almost vanished again. Finally, his curiosity took over.

“Its not everyday people get attacked like this, luckily… Why would one want to attack you and your friend?” He looked at her, though she did not react much to begin with. Eliana kept silent, pushing his arm away gently. The cleric pulled out a silk-like cloth, wrapping it around her head, covering her eyes.

“Well?” he inquired.

“I am a handmaiden of King Averheim’s cousin.” Eliana spoke in a neutral voice, not satisfying Tallof’s curiosity the least. The man sighed, getting up.

“I understand.” He folded his arms, looking at the girl as she tucked herself beneath the blanket, using several attempts to find the end of the blanket.

“It may not be permanent, it could heal.” Tallof cracked a smile, quickly wiping it off his face as he realised she wouldn’t notice it, even if she wanted to.

“I’ll check on your friend, then.” Tallof left the tent, taking out the carrot and walking back to the huntress’ tent.

Miriam
Chapter 21: Decision

Miriam stroke her hand across the tunic, the fabric was soft but still warm, it dragged out past her hip and its sleeves were loosely dangling past her hands, Miriam didn't like its red and white colour either. Not that style had ever been her concern though she was much more comfortable in something dark and this soldier's piece of fabric was clearly not her type. She did admit it was warm, and lighter than her usual shirt, which lay on the ground closeby, heavy and damp from their trip through the swamp. Miriam didn't bother tucking her new shirt and instead let it dangle over her belt in a loose fashion. She dragged a hand through her hair, finding the thick curls intertwined and messy beyond belief. Using a piece of wiring she pulled the hair into a more convenient yet rigid ponytail behind her head where it wouldn't bother her. Tallof had made sure that she was feeling alright, that she wasn't suffering any after effects and that she was recuperating as she should. He inspected her finished bowl of soup and smiled, content with the progress of Miriam's recuperation, he'd then fed Leia something, Miriam could not see what as the dog had snatched it and ran off to gobble it up heartily before she could get a look. Tallof had then left and said that Miriam was free to go as she pleased, so she did.

The fort was bustling with activity, soldiers walked by and the clanking and shuffling of armour and weapons were evident throughout. Leia was clearly displeased with the amount of noise, the dog staying close to Miriam's side as they strolled down the muddy path. The sky seemed brighter than it had in the marsh, Miriam adjusted her new tunic and frowned, feeling very much out of place. No one seemed to spare her much attention though, they walked past her as if she was one of their own, though her black hair did draw a suspicious eye from time to time, as did her rare dog. But an eye was all, no one spoke with the huntress as she walked and Miriam was glad for it, the last thing that she wanted was to converse with these people. Miriam walked around the stables, soldiers were shoeing their horses and repairing doodads in the wooden building. They were preparing to move, Miriam assumed. She passed them and came to the fort's northern entrance, their tents had been in the lower courtyard which was shadowed by the high southern walls, that pointed to the marshes. Miriam looked out into the north, marshes that direction as well though not as deadly as the southern counterpart. The bog rolled on for miles, Miriam did not know them as well as she did the woods or the mountains but she did not doubt her sense of direction any longer and going back the way they had come wouldn't be an issue now. Just her and Leia could make it back to Lowburg, or Hunter's Hill or even as far as Letaric's Landing without any problem. These places were just an horizon away, all that she needed to do was take that first step and pass the arch. She looked over her shoulder and back into the bustling camp. Eliana was somewhere in there, close to her own tent, Tallof had said she could visit if she'd like but Miriam hadn't done that. She wasn't sure why she had chosen not to check on Ellie, but talking to people was something she knew she did not enjoy doing, and from the way Tallof had explained it Eliana was hurt, and needed someone to talk to, someone to confide in. Miriam struck herself off that list, she'd gotten both Eliana and Freda this far, hadn't she? Whatever debt she had to the Spirit Walker must have been paid, and there was nothing here to keep her. This adventure had not been what Miriam imagined, she'd just followed Eliana out of curiosity but that decision had nearly gotten her killed thrice, maybe four times now. One step outside, that was all and she could leave it all behind. Freda didn't need her here either, Miriam thought to herself. The Princess could just wave a hand and some guards would get rid of the pesky huntress, she might as well. What more could she do anyway? Miriam's solemn thinking was cut off as Leia barked at her side, she twitched and peered down at the dog.
"What?" Leia did not reply. She only met Miriam's gaze and stuck her tongue out, panting happily.
"Yeah, you're right..." Sighed Miriam, laying a hand over the dog's head. "You're right - I'll talk to her. I'll be... supportive." Miriam turned, she nodded her head and gestured Leia to follow, as she walked back the way she had come, to find where her friend was waiting. She needed to see her at least. Before she left.

"I-... I need some air. Excuse me." Freda groaned loudly as she chucked the papers into the table and left the Officers to send her scornful glances at her back, leaving them to the paperwork as she waltzed off. None dared say it to her face. She pushed the tent flaps open she was met with a flurry of salutes and bows, the entire army was starting to form up as whole divisions began to move off towards the sight the Northern King had directed, lead by several different officers all staying in communication. The logistical side of all this truly made her want to vomit; it was so damn intricate. "Bloody hell." Boiled out her mouth in a low shout, which oddly enough went utterly unnoticed.

Her sharp, tired eyes spotted the young huntress bobbing around with her dog. It made her smile. She was so very out of place here, that much was clear. A gargle from her left made Freda shoot a glance to Henry who was lurking outside her tent, drunk and asleep. The urge to kick him in the face rose so high that she was forced to march off and intercept the Huntress with a brisk gait; lest she smash his at least one redeeming feature.

They both met just before the small duo of tents she had set up for them specifically, right next to her own - all be it a small walk away. Her lips went ajar for a moment only to forget what she was going to say. The blonde Princess flicked a piece of hair behind her ear and just smiled awkwardly, which was soon met with a brief smile from the Huntress then the damn dog. It leapt up to give her the best greeting she's had in days. Freda broke out into baby talk for a moment to give the dog it's necessary kisses and praise then let it go back down to its master, which was met with two equal smiles; the awkward silence elevating slowly with Miriam speaking up.
"Been busy, huh?" She rubbed the back of her neck, throwing sleeves up in the air to give her hands some room.

Freda responded politely. "Quite. There has been so much to do, so many troops to command; move around. I enjoy it, though. Which I suppose is the only saving grace."

"...Yeah. I guess it's okay if you do. It's..." Miriam paused to think of something. "... big, here. Haven't been this far sound before. Well, I have, just... try to avoid it, y'know. Messy place." She nodded briskly and affirming.

"It is a natural barrier. Alas, I must thank-you sincerely, Miriam. I would of not been able to return here without you. We had... quite the adventure. One that you were unconscious for at least one half. Ellie... for the entirety. I went to check on her last night. She seems to be doing better, all be it her eyes. It's... harrowing to look at."

Miriam gulped, she had forgotten all about that in her own misery. Ellie was doing even worse than her - she was but a fragment of what that poor Walker went through. "Ellie's tough. She has to be, I suppose. Didn't tell you how we met, did I? Eh, another time. Minus nearly dying thrice times, it was... fun? Sure..." She coughed awkwardly, unable to really say otherwise. Freda guffawed.

"Indeed. I suppose that brings me to what I wanted to ask. Or offer." She paused for a moment, removing a leather-bound purse, jingling as she brought it free from its holster on her belt. "Do not refuse this, for I know it will help you more than it will help anyone here. A thanks in the way Royalty only knows how. Which reminds me, don't... call me Princess. Please. It's starting to drag on in my ears." She smiled in what she concluded to seem humble and thrust the pouch at the woman, which Leia barked happily at - probably knowing what that pouch meant. Food!

"I-... well, uh." Miriam choked on her words as she had no chance of refusing the woman of stature, nor just giving it back. Her eyes spoke more than her lips did which just seemed to be a thanks. A minor one but it was all she could really do in this situation.

"Don't be sorry. You did a better job than any tracker we have which... leads me to what I wanted to ask. We have many agents all over nations who act independently. Spies, essentially. They keep track of any users of dark magic or assist other agents in special tasks or... just tracking. Wandering. They're under employment, obvious; just loosely. More like Huntsmen, I suppose. So we can broaden our-..." Freda paused, the look she was getting was enough to make her nod.

Miriam didn't need to respond, but she did. "I'll think on it. Thanks... Freda." It was all she needed to say before going to stand there awkwardly, Leia staring up at her expectedly. The idea of food stuck in her head. "You should get going, I bet. You look busy. Haven't slept much, huh?"

Freda nodded and sighed, pushing her ratty hair aside, it was bundled up in a less-than-neat bun. Her eyes were blood-shot, bags hung under their lids and her cheeks were puffed up from the heat of the fort. She wore a large gambeson jacket with puffed up platoons and riding boots, very casual and comfortable - her shirt was underneath was wide opened, exposing more than was modest for Royalty; the flustered Princess couldn't care less, however. "N-.. No. Not after-... well, you were there. Many people think I am mad; a charlatan with insane ideas and heretical deisgns - to think I spoke with the holy Phoenix. Bah, no matter. I will be off, after seeing Ellie. Coming?" She smiled and nodded her head, going to spin around and then lead the way without even thinking.

[b][i]The two guards outside Ellie's modest tent parted the flaps and let her inside - Miriam slowly trailed after her, still thinking deeply on what to do; though it was quickly decided.
[/b][/i]

Meanwhile, in Monarch's Rise.

"[My Lord. We have housed the civilians as you requested, they are being watched but seem content with what we have given them. I must ask, though, my King - why do we treat them so? Why no-...]" Enid snapped his head to look at the man talking to him, his icy stare caused him to cease speaking at once. A smile spread over his lips as he lifted off his helmet to let his long, flowing and crisp white hair settle down over his ears and down to his shoulders.

"[Because, Ge'es, we are not barbarians. Would you treat our neighbours with such indecency? Such arrogance? No; we are above it. Our people are strengthened by our kindness. Tempered over years of understand and -hardship-. Now if you find any descent about my decisions, bring them before me so I can explain what is to be done. For now, summon the council. We will convene-...]" The King was interrupted as his ear twitched, someone was coming up the stairs, hurriedly.

The King of the Riders had set up his base of operations inside one of the larger Manor's just outside of the inner Castle walls. It gave him an unparalleled vantage of the city and what the defenders were doing. He had the walls guarded by a few hundred men, the streets patrolled by an equal number to make sure no attackers sneaked over the walls, and even then into the city. The breach they made, as the gates, had been sealed with a thick ice no battering ram could dare to penetrate. The only way in and out of the city was through portals - or destructive magic they would be sure to counter.
The doors of his upstairs abode swung open, making the Mage Ge'es spin on his heels to look at the Knight that forced his way through the door. It was one of the men he sent out on a patrol; the officer, in fact. "[My lord.]" He dropped to his knees to speak, presenting up a dilapidated and frozen head of a Northern Knight - Enid gathered this by his shattered helmet that had just been bludgeoned into his face with magic. "[We were attacked by the Northmen on horse-back. Several riders. We engaged them and suffered minimal casualties, they were outriders at an educated guess. To harry our supposed supply-lines. Most of them escaped once they saw us use magic on this comely fellow.]" He broke into a grin, huffing out cold air through his face-guard. "[These people are primitive but they fight with the fury of a the Yel-Aen.]" The Knight rose up, offering the head to the Mage whom held it in two hands, giving it a look over and smirked - Ge'es the Mage was of equal complexion yet had an entirely different face, one of a gruff man; even sporting something akin to a beard. They were whiskers at best but no-one could deny he was not comely. His helmet sat neatly on his outer thigh, strapped too it by the chin-strap.

Enid stood, leaving behind his crowned-helmet. "[I think it's time we showed these so-called Northerners what a true chill is like. Ge'es. Bring me Uslev. We are going to meet this King. Or, rather, I am. You will prepare the portals. My Knight, stand with me and be my brother. It is time we calculated our enemy's moves."] The Knight thumped his chest and nodded, going to storm outside with a thunderous echoing of boots and armour. Ge'es, being the lazy mage he was, teleported away using the same icy-portal to go do as his King commanded. This left Enid in the chamber of what he concluded was some aristocrat of these people. A noble born. He snatched his crowned helmet and glanced around; this was not home. But it would be soon. There was no dying that.

Enid, King of the Riders in Black and Red, donned his crown and slid up the face-guard. "[I wonder what man you are, King. I wonder..."]

Chapter 23: Men & Monsters

"Quiet..."

Riders and horses both lay in cover behind the crest of the wide hills in silence. Only occasionally did some of the soldiers mutter to their beasts to keep them calm amidst the terrible waiting. The hills erupted a short distance away from the interspersed copses that stretched along the frozen lake. Next to the lake and between the trees a dirt road slithered through, once used principally by farmers to transport their goods to and from larger settlements. Arthur huffed out a cold breath and removed his helmet. He crawled up to the edge of the slope to glance across to the other side, towards the lake, the road and the trees. The silence had been unnerving, considering that the knight had a hundred men and horses next to him - but that silence had been broken when the sound of approaching horses and foreign words cut through the icy air. Down by the road he could see a group of men, clad in wicked armors and sitting upon frosted horses. Arthur knew the colours, armors, accents and banners of nearly every country and renowed lord in the Realm. But he had never seen these before.

Arthur had to squint occasionally when the breeze picked up in a biting cold. After a short while he made his way back down the slope to the waiting soldiers.
"Approximately thirty of them down the road, heading west. They seem confident enough, probably aren't expecting any trouble out here other than smallfolk and farmers." Some of the men scoffed and shook their heads, cursing their foe and muttering cowardice behind their breaths.
"And they sure aren't expecting us." Arthur continued and sneered. The gesture was met with scattered chuckles. "We're going to show them just how wrong they are. Now, our foe looks mean - but have no fear, that's just the armor, and if they wear armor then they are mortal men, just like us. So strike true and watch each other's backs. Ready?" The troop nodded silently and Arthur gestured for them to mount up. A vague clinking noise spread through the Northern riders as they adjusted into the saddle and then looked towards their commander. To ride into battle with a high-ranking knight and the most renowed swordsman in the kingdom was a great honour to some, and it well showed on their determined and fearless features.

Arthur urged his partially armored destrier onwards and ascended to the top of the hill. On both his sides the soldiers followed, equally divided into fifty men on either flank. They now stood fully visible on the hill, but so far the enemy patrol had not spotted them. Arthur glanced to his left and right to ensure that everyone were in place. He leered towards the nearest banner briefly and nodded to himself prior to reaching for the grip of his longsword. He raised his free hand above his head briefly before lowering it again. The rank of horsemen steadily advanced forward, down the hills. After a few dozen yards Arthur kicked his heels into the flanks of his warhorse and spurred it into a furious gallop. Around him spears were couched and swords drawn as the mounted force burst into a unified warcry.

The enemy patrol finally turned their heads to gaze upon the approaching soldiers, their expressions hidden behind their deathly masks. Although they were outnumbered, they displayed no lack of courage and brandished their own weaponry, but the northmen's warhorses were already in a full-charge and trained for this - only a handful of the ghastly riders managed to turn their frozen horses around to face their enemy before they were hit by the tide of Men.

Arthur leaned to the left, the dark and icy blade cut through the air merely inches away from him. He heaved himself upright and spurred his horse on towards the next dark rider. This one was too occupied with selecting his prey to notice the knight's blade before it was too late. The rider fell off his monstrous horse, hands clasped around his throat that fountained blood. The skirmish was momentarily swinging in favour of the frozen riders as they cut down the first northmen that engaged them in combat, but gradually the Men gained the advantage, the dark riders were simply unable to parry so many blades and spears from too many directions.

The layer of snow on the ground turned increasing red as horses and men were butchered alike in the brutal clash. Arthur tugged in the reins and turned his horse around anew, charging at a new enemy that was locked in mounted combat against a northman armed with a sword and heater shield. The malicious rider turned its head towards the charging knight and with a flurry of maneuvers cut down his opponent that fell down from his saddle with a painful scream. The crooked rider then turned its own icy horse towards Arthur and spurred towards him, who in the last minute steered aside and in the process parried away a would-be lethal strike. The two opponents circled around before lunging at one another again. Briefly they were locked in even combat, each strike was parried away in a screech of metal against metal by the other. Finally Arthur got the better of his opponent, and followed up two parries with a swift riposte before his enemy could figure out where to strike next. The steel sunk in deep between the joints of the rider's armor. Arthur twisted the sword around to cause utmost damage before pulling it out in a spray of blood. The ghostly looking rider fell down with a hard thud, unmoving.

Arthur took a breath and glanced up. The skirmish was practially over, with only a meagre handful of enemies still resisting, they were ultimately cut down. The soldiers dismounted and walked amongst the fallen enemies, ensuring that they remained dead by plunging their weapons into them a few additional times. The invaders had brought down a fair number with them, at least fifteen to twenty, Arthur thought. He lowered his gaze to his last kill and dismounted himself, dropping down to a knee at its side.

"Well then. You bleed and die just like any other. What are you, exactly..." Arthur muttered to himself as he reached out for the dead rider's helmet and promptly tore it off.

The knight scoffed derisively.

The tent was all but empty of people. Tallof had left Ellie for who knows how long, and had left the girl to her own thoughts, much needed as it was. Eliana had managed to get herself up, sitting on the ide of the bed with her legs swung out over the edge. She was lightly dressed; the torn dress having been taken by Tallof for some reason that Ellie didn’t pay attention to. Instead she had been given some new clothes, most likely in the Order’s colours, she guessed. Her eyes were still wrapped with the silky cloth, and the wet substance had rested upon her eyes for hours now. Meant to help, he had said. Perhaps just to shield others from looking at her eyes. The girl sighed wistfully, always having been rather happy about the way her eyes had looked. At least the voices were gone, she reminded herself with a slight smile.

The carpet hanging in the way of the tent were moved aside, and Eliana looked towards the sounds, presuming it to be the Cleric again. Instead, she was met with more footsteps than before. She quirked an eyebrow, which must’ve been an interesting sight to see from the newcomers point of view.
One of them cleared their throat, to announce their arrival.

“No, I’m not deaf.” Eliana burst out, in a mixed attempt of being humorous and acknowledging them.

Freda stepped forward, studying the girl with a mournful expression upon her face. “Ellie?” she spoke in a low voice, trying not to stir the Walker. Ellie rose her head towards the sound, smiling.

“Hey.” She whispered back, with a tone of hope. Miriam and Leia stood in the background, observing for now. Miriam had not seen Ellie since they had arrived, and her eyes were locked on the cloth around Ellie’s head. The huntress decided to let Freda run the show for now. She seemed good at … whatever she was doing. Leia stepped forward, sniffing Freda and Ellie. Freda stared the dog down for a second, before giving in to the eyes. The princess sighed, looking back to Eliana. She carefully placed her hands on the cloth, removing it with care. Beneath it still were her eyes, opening up as she felt the cloth removed. One could almost feel the disappointment, when her vision was still black as night.

“I’m sorry.” Freda muttered out to Eliana, who simply returned it with a smile.

“You shouldn’t apologize. This wasn’t your doing, after all.” Eliana paused, her eyes still blankly staring into the distance, ending up looking at Miriam by mistake. Miriam rubbed her arm, somehow filled with relief that she hadn’t been the one to loose her sight, but still sorrow had overcome her.

“Nonetheless, should you need anything; do not hesitate to ask.” Freda offered a kind smile to the girl, who returned it, even though she saw less than a dead rat in a cartwheel.

“How about two eyes, huh?” Eliana lowered her head, both smiling and sighing at the same time.

“Is Miriam alright?” she spoke again, looking around with her empty gaze.

Freda looked over her shoulder, peering at the huntress and nodded. “She’s alright.” Freda waved Miriam to her side, and the scavenger approached.

“I didn’t expect this when I first met you, I have to admit.” Miriam shrugged, having crossed her arms.

Eliana looked towards her voice, offering some sort of smile again. “I’m sorry if I dragged you into all of this.” She paused. “It was never my intention for anyone to get hurt.”

“I know.” Miriam nudged her hand against Leia’s head.

For a moment the four were silent.

“I… Thank you. Both of you. All three of you I suppose. I would’ve been dead without the heroic savings, perhaps with a worse fate. But… I don’t want to be more of a burden than I already have been. I’ll take my leave soon, somehow.” Eliana sternly said, without much movement from her.

Freda raised an eyebrow.

“How do you intent to go out on your own? And you do not need to. We could use your help here, both the powers you keep a secret and those you don’t. Though you are within friendly boundaries now, no one can know of your being. Most here do not trust Walkers more than the common people does.” Freda concluded her speech, waiting for an answer from the girl.

“Is that supposed to convince me to stay? And what good would I do? I’m blind, for the One’s sake!” Freda retracted herself from Eliana slightly, grimacing.

“It’s… safer.” The princess turned her head to Miriam. “Safer to be more. Especially in these times.”

Miriam
Chapter 22: Divergence



They would understand. Maybe they would scorn her for it, but that was nothing Miriam was not already familiar with. What use could she be as a spy? Even less, what could she do as a nurse for a blind girl? This was not her story and she had better leave it be and return to what she knows. Miriam shook her head and sighed, looking back to the road in front of her. Leia stood there, glancing back at her and expecting something, Miriam stepped after the dog but before she did she looked back one final time. The fort loomed in the distance, they had already walked a fair bit but you could see the fort and even the dots that were undoubtedly Midway soldiers speckled among the outline. They were still preparing to leave, to fight whatever great battle awaited them next. When Miriam had left Ellie's tent, she had felt morose. She pitied Eliana but what could she have done to help her? What could she possibly do other than what she had already did?
"Useless.." She muttered to herself, walking on after Leia. Miriam dragged on the sash of her new rucksack, it was, like her new gear, from Midway and made of a very fine and sturdy material. It was certainly better than her previous old bag had been, but it didn't feel quite the same. Nothing did. Within it the coin-pouch Freda had given her jingled, as well as enough rations and supplies to last her at least a month. She was richer now than she had ever been in her entire life but leaving the fort now, she felt empty. Miriam looked up, the road lay ahead in between the watery marshland, risen on top of wooden platforms and the rare cobbled path. In the very far distance the rolling hills of the Northlands were covered in snow, and the road would diverge to lead to a myriad of destinations. Maybe at the end of one of them, she would find the way to return to her old life...

Meanwhile, At Hunter's Hill...

This man was a doubtless Commander. What he said were orders, never suggestions, his will and even his appearance was that of the Northlands and his mind was tactful and determined. He stood leaned over the large table, pointing to one of the many maps that lay in neat formations on top of it. The four generals present nodded, hummed and murmured their agreements. Walter folded his leg up and reached for the cup of tea that stood on a small table next to him. He sipped from it casually, looking across as one of the generals gazed toward the sound he had just made, for a short moment Walter was fearful he had been spotted but alas, the officer saw nothing other than what he had expected to see when looking to the chair in the far end of the room and he returned to listening to his King. They discussed for a lengthy time, discussing a futile war and how to best protect their people from these invaders. Such narrow thoughts, Walter mused but listened still. It was interesting to look upon this King whose grandfather had wanted nothing but peace, whose father had both proclaimed war as well as truce. What fate lay before this one? Walter hoped to find out, soon enough.

It was only a few hours until all of the officers had left, and the King was left alone at last. He sighed, rubbed fingers across his eyes and shook his head wearily. Walter did not doubt the situation was growing quite taxing. The King passed another table and touched his fingers upon the hilt of his sword, a sword which power Walter could scarcely fathom, the Northern King even less so. Walter rose from his chair at this moment and with a simple sway of his hand the air around him shimmered and the spectrum illusion was broken. The King turned immediately, maybe expecting one of his officers to have remained, he was undoubtedly confused as he was instead met by the visage of an old wizard. He moved his hand to grasp the sword's hilt where it stood.
"Peace, good King." Said Walter, he rose his hands in a gesture of only peaceful intent, his muddy cloak flapped aside and beneath were no weaponry. The King narrowed his eyes in turn, he held a his sword firmly, ready to strike if need be.
"Who are you? Where did you come from?" He was concise and strict in his questioning, just like his father. Walter kept his arms up, replying calmly, he had had time to prepare what to say.
"My name is Walter Andalus, from where I come is a query of perspective that holds no interest in our current discussion." Walter stood still, he was a few paces away from the King, who had yet to call out to his guards. This bode well. "But if you are confused as to how I appeared here now? I have been here quite a while already. I only chose to appear before you alone."
"Magic." The King snarled and his teeth flashed an angry scowl, Walter almost took a step back from the tone of his voice alone.
"In a way." Walter admitted. The King drew his golden sword now, his eyes lingered on Walter but his mind was set on the guards undoubtedly just outside the tent, they wouldn't hear anything even if the King did call out to them.
"Explain yourself, before your end is met, mage." The word was an insult to the King and Walter found that both rude and disturbing. He cleared his throat and patted his coat down briefly.
"I've come to deliver you a warning, Good King." He said and he noticed Leofric had narrowed his eyes, intrigued but very much on edge. "The war that you wage and the enemy that you fight." Walter continued, he needed to formulate this well. " - You need to halt your course. For it will lead to the destruction of this entire realm." Walter paused, allowing the King to mull that reveal, he only scoffed.
"What are you saying, you madman?"
"For every moment you spend battling the Red Invaders you play further into the hands of the true threat to our world. I have seen the enemy, and this is not them. I beseech you; When the opportunity arises, to make peace."
"And what would one such as you know about this?" The King pointed his sword in Walter's direction, it shimmered with an otherwordly glow. The same kind Walter had seen in the hands of monsters, only brighter. He sighed.
"We are trapped in a Wheel of fate and destiny, Good King. Doomed to circle this wheel of destruction until there is nothing left of our world but ash and debris. I am giving you the chance to step out of the Wheel, and follow your own path, rather than the one you have been given, just like you have been given that sword you hold." Walter nodded faintly toward the glowing sword that was held firmly in the King's hand.
"I've heard enough of this." Said the King, having taking in none of it. Just like Walter had assumed, really. But the Warning had been given at least. "Guards!" The King called out but they did not respond, nor did they even hear. The King looked back to the Wizard and positioned his sword in a thrusting stance. Walter sighed and spread his hands in a shrug.
"I ask you; are you a King - Or a Hamster?" He then shut his eyes and flexed his hands, he passed into the next realm and from it walked a few paces to leave the room behind. The shadowy realm was different somehow and as Walter traversed it he could sense another King, further away, a King that was in comparison much more aware yet so much more dangerous. Walter left the realm and reappeared on a field far from any of the royal threats and he looked up where the sky rested gray and heavy with snow. It won't be long now.

The fog rolled into the King's camp. It bustling with activity, soldiers moving and preparing around, a hectic chaos of clattering in weapons over the field in which they had camped. Tents came down as quickly as men started to run into formation for marching.

A horn sounded in the distance that set the entire in on edge. Another came from behind, the side - all around, sounding almost like the cry of the damned as they echoed through the camp that was quickly struck within a blizzard. The fog swirled as snow began to pour out from the heavens as heavily as it could, yet there was no wind as it snowed; the wind around here had passed long ago, creating a still, chilly environment. One that was on stand-still, on either side was moor-land and for a hundred miles in all directions even if villages dotted all over the place, in-between cities and roads. It is there the final horn sounded.
The Northman replied with drums, blood-curling drums that sounded the coming of the deep. Thunderous booms echoed as more and more drum-men broke into their chorus. A man, at the front gates watched. He watched as hundreds of riders emerged from the mist and slowly approached, every man on horseback wielding a white flag. They came from all directions, surrounding the camp entirely in two rank deep horsemen formation, all ready to charge in need be. The men on horseback were clad in a steel plate, clear to the eye from the short distance the north-man just gaped at. They wore red-cloaks, each man to their own - some were dismounted, nigh a hundred mages wandered forward and presented their staves, though they dug white banners all around the camp - the signal of a ceasefire.

"Come at us then, ye' pricks!" One voice shouted out from the crowd of Northmen, all coming to bare weapons at the invaders. Though white-flags had quickly shot up in response. The neigh of horses arrived as a lone rider marched out from the column of riders, draped in a black and red cloak and wore a large, circular crown that radiated a white glowing, as did his right hand. He spoke as he arrived, his voice booming through the Staves of his Magi.
"I come bearing gifts for your King! An honourable gift. Come forth, King of the North. Grace me with your presence! I would look upon your face!" Enid spoke lightly though his voice echoed for miles through the Magic of the Magi in their own splintered line, a mage for every ten riders and their steeds.

It came in response as the King in Black and Red arrived at the entrance of the camp, carrying his own white banner with his own sigil beneath it. It bore a black sigil of a tree, it's leaves shedding on a red field. The King dismounted with a thud and wandered to the gate which was met by halberd men and archers - the fighting men did what they were trained for in the sight of a threat; especially one as this.

It took merely a minute for the King and his large entourage to arrive, the King's Knight's followed him on their own armoured Warhorses. King Leofric of the North dismounted to meet this man face to face.
"You're the one who has assailed my country?"
Enid smiled, digging his pole into the ground before he took off the single strap around his throat, plying off his crown to show off his face - it garnered more than a few sneers and laughs. The blizzard only grew more intense with the twitching of the man's features. "[Primitive fools.]
His eyes turned on the King.
"I am. I hold your city and am prepared to trample you here and now. You've been gathering men to attack me. This will not do. So allow me to explain."
The young-looking man held up his hand.
"I am from a place further from your comprehension than you could possible realise. I came for one thing and he happened to be in that city. This... unfortunate mishap sparked your 'garrison' to attack my men. Barbaric, indeed. Without even a hailing and your dreaded Black Knight's wandered through the fold killing my men. And yet still! You kill more of my men." His expression darkness.
"And still, you think this is something I would accept. When my first warriors died, my brothers, it sparked a war I will not submit until I receive something akin to an apology, formally and now. With that, I will withdraw. As soon as you relinquish the wizard to me." Enid's eyes drifted to the glowing sword he could sense in the scabbard; his pale, moon-like eyes drifted towards the sword itself for a good few minutes as he awaited the response.

Silence followed for a good while as the King took a step forward to look at all the men arrayed before him, he gave a good look around and stiffened his jaw. He calmly turned back around and faced the towering, armoured figure and showed only confidence.
"We have no sanctioned wizards in the Northlands. Whoever you are looking for is not there Although, one of them did visit last night. He told me to make peace with you - but how can I make peace with someone invaded my country without the slightest provocation?"

Enid clasped the hand around the sword at his flank, running his plated digits over the pommel before smirking in confidence. It was a battle of wits, or that is how the King of the Riders took it.
"Sanctioned? [By God.] He visited you and spoke wisdom? Int-... oh yes, I sense it. Seems we missed him by a few hours. How... unfortunate. Either way this is how it stands, North-man. I have invaded your sovereign territory. I have men ready and willing to drop your land into an un-survivable winter that will be followed by waves of blood. Every village and un-walled town will burn and everyone inside of those houses will burn also. That is what will be if my demands are not met. I will smash your force here and then smash any others that come down onto my men once more. Your city is mine and I will not allow my possession to be removed. I will break into the castle and capture all within. I already have nigh... what was it-..." He paused, tapping his chin in a cocky manner.
"Oh, yes, three-thousand civilians. Oh no, don't pull that face; I did not kill them. But you can." He leans back some and straightens his back - the men behind the King all looked at each-other and were prepared to laugh; they seemed very eager to knock down this funny-looking pretender. The King waited and valued his words, never dropping the demeanour of a proud man - he couldn't.
Leofric frowns irritably, though he doesn't reach for his weapon. "Your threats do not intimidate me, you wretch. We are no strangers to harsh winters or ruthless war. Even if you kill me and this army here, we will bring down an uncomfortable number of your own. And when you limp back to the capital to lick your wounds, others will be ready to take my place and hound you out from this kingdom."
Enid smiled and donned his crown, giving him a nod. "How amusing. You bite back. I like that in a man; a Human, no less. No matter, then. I believe I have said what I came here to say. But, my gift. How rude would I be not to bring you one." The Rider turned about on his heels and marched over to his steed to offer him the small little box that contained a mystery object, clearly. Enid brought this over to King Leofric and took a low bow before offering over the item, head lowered. Seems it was a sign of respect, in his culture at least. The men behind him too it as a sign of weakness, most burst into laughter for a second before the King raised his gauntlet - it quenched all humour in the crowd. Leofric reached for the box...

He took it in his grasp and clenched around it with his fingers, twisting it around in his gauntlets and just nodded slowly, tapping a few fingers on it. "Thank-you." He replied, thinly. It was short lived as the King bowed lowly once more and went to mount up on his horse.
"You have shown me tact, Lord. I merely tested you. I will release all your civilians to you in a day's time. You will do well do well to find them shelter. In the mean time, I will occupy your city until I get what is mine. If the Wizard is presented to me, no more blood will be shed. If not? Then it will flow like a river. A river of corpses and blood."
The King of the North stood stalwart and just stared at the box curiously, tapping a finger over the item absently as the Rider steered his horse away as did all his riders in near unison, all turning around and marching away - no man was left on the field by the time the King reached the miss. He visibly disappeared into a swirling, icy vortex in the distance.

The King of the Red Riders disappeared with his entire army. Into nothingness. Enid had accomplished what he came to achieve.

Chapter 24: The plan

Leofric turned the small box around in his hand and studied it closely. He didn't trust it, for all he knew it would kill him the moment he opened it up. But why would his opponent go through all that effort just to give him an item that would kill him? He could have done it moments ago with his army, run down the whole camp and butchered every single northman. Eventually he reached out with his other hand to open the box. It did not kill him. In fact, it contained a glowing white orb, similar to a pearl. Leofric picked up the orb and weighed it in his hand. It was enchanted, the radiance professed that. But what was it for, exactly?
Leofric didn't much care to find out right now and placed back the enchanted item into its box and spun around to march back into the camp and further on up the Hunter's Hill. His soldiers around the camp gradually cooled down and returned to what they had been previously doing prior to the unwanted visit of the Rider King.

He was furious at his enemy. The fool could have knocked on the gates of Monarch's Rise and inquired about the wizard like a civilized man rather than invading, Leofric thought to himself. Now he had to somehow find the wizard that disappared into thin air after infiltrating his camp the other night. The Rider King had not given a specific date on when he wanted the wizard delivered, so Leofric had plenty of time - he hoped.

A small group of officers conversed with one another at the top of the hill when Leofric approached. The men bowed as the king passed and then followed on, back towards the makeshift command post in the hunter lodge. Leofric mused over his options as he entered the house and circled around the large table in the center of the room. He placed down the gifted box and looked over it once more to verify that the thing was harmless. The group of officers that followed in turn leered towards the object questioningly but made no comments, instead they looked back at the monarch in anticipation.
Leofric frowned and stared down at the map on the table with several markers placed out at various locations. He realised that he had no easy solution to finding the enigmatic wizard, so he made his decision - the only decision he thought that might draw back the wizard. And it was risky.

"We will proceed as planned and break camp. We'll march north until we reach Boreal Bay and set up our siege lines a thousand yards from the walls." Leofric tapped a finger over the location on the map. Monarch's Rise was on the opposite end of the bay. "Once there we can dispatch riders to our other regions and summon reinforcements."
The officers nodded silently in consent and followed the king's gestures on the map.
"If our enemy stay true to his word and release the prisoners, then I want men ready to escort them away to safety. Send a raven to the Midway force in the south as well, update them on the situation here. Do you all understand?" Leofric glanced up and glowered at the officers around the table who nodded their heads. Leofric concluded with a nod of his own and thereafter dismissed the men. He watched the last officer shut the door behind him and then turned around to gaze out from a nearby window, absorbed in thought.

With some luck his next major maneuver would attract the attention of the wizard again, and hopefully he would return to preach about making peace with the enemy and spouting nonsense about the wheel of fate. This time he was planning on talking with him, though.

Leofric sighed. "Damnable wizards."

Walter
Chapter 10: Experiment, Concluded

Walter fell through the blue flame again, he had gained the understanding of the past, although it had only been books he knew that the source was reliable. The scholars of the ancient empire had all agreed; The invaders would come to feed upon their world and the price to pay for stopping them may be too large. What fate had fallen upon the Empire Walter did not learn, perhaps the invaders had sundered it into the ruins he had seen, or maybe the mages of times past had done so, to save themselves. The thoughts flurried through Walter's mind as he fell through the fire that swirled around him. He did not know how long he had spent in the library or how many books he had read exactly - Now he returned, his eyes opened and he rose his head. His body was numb and the room around him was dark, there was no sign of the Witch or the Spirit Walker but rain still smattered against the window to his right. Walter got out of the chair with a grumble, his back ached but he was clear of mind and he soon heard a voice outside of the door.
"That must be him." It was Simoron, the witch had to be speaking with Larnicus. Walter looked to the door and he opened his mouth to speak.
"Simoron, Larnicus." He said. "You won't believe the things that I have witne-.." The door opened and Walter stopped. Two warriors entered first, they wore large brown cloaks and each carried a Catalyst staff, spiked and deadly. Their helmets were adorned with one feather each that signified their post as royal escort. They stepped to the side and firmly tapped their staves to the ground. The King came after. He wore a dull gaze as he looked around the room, his brown eyes ended their journey on Walter himself, as if he was the least interesting thing in the building. The man was not larger than his guards but he carried an aura of eminence and worship. His hair was shaved down to his scalp and over it he wore a metal circlet which intricately surrounded a vast red gem that sat by his forehead. Walter gazed upon the powerful middle-aged man, his impression always left Walter awed as well as inspired. His tunic was the colour of red and brown, rather than the usual Valentian Owl with spread wings he wore the Heart of the god itself upon his fanciful tabard. Brown feathers surrounded the man's shoulders and around his back, closing together with his vast cape. He held his hands behind his back and his chin was pointed up proudly as he gazed upon Walter. Walter had never seen it before but he had Olive's eyes, or rather, she had his. He gulped and then immediately went to one knee, looking into the ground rather than staring at his king.
"I have been told of your project, Andalus." The King said, his voice was collected but held its usual tinge of annoyance. The man was a descendant of Godly lineage and his time was precious to waste. Walter had no intention to do so and he let the King speak until directly asked a question. The King paced, slowly and with certainty he walked around the dark room, he stopped where the candle stood, it had nearly burnt down completely now, its fire had returned to its usual orange. The Sorcerer-King spoke again.
"You have gone beyond - As the myth says; A man of Blue, one of Red, and one of Black - To Usurp the Spirits." The King looked back to Walter, who still held his head and his eyes down. Fearful of what may follow.
"Little more than a Legend, wouldn't you say. Andalus?" The Sorcerer-King had returned and stood above him now, clearly expecting a response.
"I..." Walter started nervously. "I know not of Legends, my liege. The empire I have seen, its secrets I have witnessed. I know them to be true, I have learned and done so much."
"What you have done, Andalus. Is alongside two other members of my council, performed a spell believed impossible." The King loomed threateningly. He soon corrected himself. "Perhaps I am giving you too much credit, you were only a mannequin of their spell, after all." The King rose a hand calmly and Walter could feel the urge to rise within his very blood, so he did. He went up to his feet and he looked upon his Lord with a respectful glance.
"This will cease. I will not accept my adjutants to follow such prophecy and lead us to doom. My grand-father suffered this mistake - Catalog what you have learned, Andalus. For the respect I have of your fathers, and by the mercy of my family I will allow you to remain among my council. Be glad you do are allowed such." The King was concise and firm, Walter could do nothing but nod and say his thanks. The Sorcerer-King turned, his droll gaze leaving the wizard. He stepped out of the door and was quickly trailed by the two royal guards. They walked into the rain, Walter looked after them, five more of the guards awaited them outside, and as the king joined them Walter could see the very rain part in the King's path. Walter then spotted Simoron looking at him by the edge of the doorframe. She smiled thinly, probably just as appreciative of being alive as Walter was, Walter did not see Larnicus the Spirit-Walker anywhere. Simoron took a step into the building, the witch breathed out a sigh of relief and then looked at Walter.
"Come on. We've got a war to win."

The Butcher of A Monarch: Chapter One.

"[Four thousand civilians, my Lord. They are conten-...]" The man was silenced with a looming stare, the piercing, glowing white eyes of the Lord of Red. "[We have been placement too long. I will get inside of that Keep today. That is certain. Release three thousand.]" He sneered under his metal faceguard and nearly coughed, the decision left him twitching but otherwise he marched off as Knight's fell to their knee before him. The King of Red.

"[Raise the weapon. Bring me fire and brimstone. We go to heavens above for our ancestors!]" The King broke out into a cry, raising his hands in the air. The archers on the other side of the wall sprung to action. There had been silence for nearly three days. Darkness and silence amongst the mist that swirled beneath their walls. Shielded from the light and all other things.
"[For once we were betrayed. For once we were slaughtered on our knees! Bending to their whim! Never again, today we have our revenge!]" The King drew his sword and wandered forward, he was quickly joined by his entire army - roaring and screaming in preparation of storming the Keep.
It was in the silence the King thought of the loses. The men who would die for this vengeance. One that made him King. To be blessed and thrown aside, to be given everything but turned to madness. This world could be saved; it just needed a few less spirits in them. "[We will bring down the walls of the worlds! We will beckon in the dawn of the Ander Folk! The inheritors of a lost world, re-forged anew in fire!]" An uproar broke out in the droops then... hellish silence.

It had fired.

It sounded like the snapping of a thousand necks at the same time in his head; though it was so fast. He could only sense it because of his crown, the one that let him see more than any mortal being alive. And all he saw was the faces of the damned, sucking life through its machinery. A crackling of concentrated energy enough to smash the most powerful barriers in the next world. The weakest, poorest, lowest of scum in Monarch's Rise put to the sword all at once, their blood littered the streets as cries came from the walls - screams of curling death as the blast of energy transferred through the wall - it levelled it in seconds, creating a second bridge of the moat that separated them - the water being damned and thrown all over in the moat - the riptide soon froze as it left its current. The river was quenched and dead. Life froze in the proximity of the weapon as all the warriors jerked forward suddenly at the massive wave that rippled from the recoiling gun. It seemed charged, still, even after it firing though the one blast had smashed the magical barrier in twain and the wall asunder.

Enid was the first to step through the breach, sword flailing. The King of the Riders tore through the front with his sword and magical empowerments - blood and bodies fell beneath the King whilst his army swarmed in around him; soon enough all the enemies around him were too far away. The King laughed whole heartedly, the heat of the moment allowed clarity. In the blood of your enemies; as a conqueror. "[Kill all who do not surrender! Find the one marked!]" The Rider turned to the Keep itself, it would take hours to route the entire keep and puncture the inner defences. But sneaking in would be easy enough by himself. There could be no chance of an escape.

The Crown allowed him to see foot-prints now only the echo of souls, the illumination of objects and walls. His hand brushed over the stone wall in a vain search for a way inside through the back. Taking it from the front was easy. But around here... he slipped, rather suddenly, and fell down into a pit. Quite literally a well dug out pit. He fell for a good few seconds before slamming into the ground and then through it, as he had hit a wall of sorts - through a door, in fact, and through it onto the cobble floor of the basement beneath him. Smashing a table and the ladder on the way down. He landed with a thud and bang. "[Reduced... to... fuc-... bah!]" The King twisted and threw himself around, writhing in agony from the plated fall. He tore off his helmet only to notice something, there was two children staring at him.

The King, for once, was speechless. He slowly moved to stand up before they both screamed as loud as they possibly could. Enid, dumbfounded, tried his best to hush the two little girls. "Come now, little ones. No need to-... cry. Please. Stop." He groaned loudly, now they're wailing and his bad back was two things that were really not necessary to endure. He lowered himself down to their level as they huddled away in fear. The King removed his helmet to show off his real face, which terrified them even more as they ran to the corner of the room. "N-No! Momma said monsters aren't real!" One of the girls cried, curling into the corner as if that pathetic yet heart-burning display. The King sighed and just slid the crown over to them - what could children do with such a powerful artefact. It made him laugh, though the two girls suddenly grew curious as to why they were still afraid and turned to inquisitively inspect the crown.

"Spiky." One of the girls prodded her finger over the dulled daggers that made up the Crown of Conquest. To see two little children no older than five play with it was truly amusing. He seemed to think that was a good warm-up to go wander over to them then crouches down again, struggling to not show any pain.
"It is a powerful tool, this. Do you see it? A crown. But inside, look." He picked up the helmet and activated the centre gem which expanded out the helmet itself to give it the glowing affect he had donned in the battle. It radiated magic in all directions and made him quite distinct on the battlefield. Or to woo two little girls.
"Wow!"
"Look at it!"
The two girls reached out for the mist but grabbed back nothing. Amazed still. The King deactivated his little trinket of significance and set it over his knee and offered out his hand. "How about we find a way out, hm? I assume you are lost. Or were you coming out the way I was going..?" He raised his brow inquisitively which both the girls just shook their head at.
"We heard fighting."
"So we ran here. We were scared."
"I couldn't find mother!"
"She was gone!"
The two girls, piece meal, added up their quaint story. Two little, highborn children. "Well, fret not, girls. I am a King of legend and I have come to say hello to your mother. We must speak immediately for it us of the utmost importance. If...-" He pouted some, lowering his head, going onto his knee. "If I pledged to protect you will you take me to your esteemed mother? No man, spirit or monster will ever harm you again." He smiled thinly and stood up, both of the children grabbed onto his hand and then, briskly, went to lead the King by his hand through the less-than-bright dungeon. How he even fell in here amazed him.

"What a nice... place this is. I do hope the castle is a -bit- better than this. I am going to live here, you know." Enid smiled, that confused the two girls but they soon agreed.
"Okay! We can show you our rooms, if you want."

"I would be delighted..." Enid laughed quietly to himself, he felt like a father again."

Chapter 25: Escape

The uproar from the outside sounded well within the keep. The exterior wall had collapsed and it wouldn't be long now until the attackers breached the final gates. The girl was barely keeping up with the elderly knight as they rushed through the various halls and corridors of the keep, but her grip around his wrist was iron. They had been navigating around the keep for a while before her protector finally spoke up to her relief. "It's not far now, princess. Just a little further."
She felt her smidge of worry dissipate, the knight still remembered the path - he had to. Eventually they stopped by a large wall, adorned by an equally large painting that depicted the northern highlands. As always, she was absorbed by its masterwork beauty and didn't notice the wall open up to reveal the tunnel behind until the knight hollered for her. "This way, princess!"

The knight reached out for a nearby torch on the wall and cautiously made his way down the set of stairs that led into darkness. He reached behind him with his free hand and the princess swiftly scurried up behind him to take it. Shortly after she sneezed.
"I know. Nobody has used this passage for decades, the dust is everywhere." the knight muttered as he continued down the steps under the illumination of the torch. The princess nodded meekly to herself and glanced sideways to the walls. They were plain and terribly dusty, but she did not expect anything else from the secret passage. The opulence was reserved for the rest of the keep.
She sniffled and looked back ahead, past the knight and into the darkness. "Is it far, Sir John?" She eventually inquired in a well-practised highborn tone. She was only twelve, yet she carried with her the royalty and authority of her father and dynasty. The only dynasty.
"Do not worry, princess. We'll be out in a few minutes." Sir John concisely replied. She nodded and fell silent. The knight took to words before she could think about what to ask next. "I'm taking you north, Josephine, to friends and safe harbours. Nobody can harm you there until your father has restored order."

She nodded again and looked behind her but was solely met by darkness. The air inside the passage was near unbearable and thick from the dust, and she felt as if she was suffocating. She was just about to tell her guardian when rays of light pierced through the darkness. She blinked a few times and looked past the knight. A distance infront of them barred an iron gate their path with two men on the other side of it. Upon spotting the princess and the knight, one of the men rose a large hammer and swung it down upon the rusted lock that kept the gate shut and knocked it off with ease. The men opened the gate and allowed the two others to pass through, out into the fresh air. Josphine took a deep breath to wash the salty air down her lungs but had little time to do anything else. Sir John urged her on and they continued down a petrous path along the crags below Monarch's Rise, though she heard preciously little from the city above.

The path took a turn and led them to the shore. A small group of men armed with swords and garbed in stout leathers waited by a boat that would take them to a ship that lay anchored further out. Josephine could see other ships as well, though they were much further out and appeared to sit in some form of formation. The group stopped by the boat and the guards gestured for them to get in. Sir John entered first and positioned himself in the center, beckoning Josephine over, who climbed in next and sat down next to the knight, cluctching his arm with a hand for balance. The rest of the men thereafter followed and one of them pushed the boat off of shore. They dipped down the oars and started to row towards the waiting ship.

The waves were vicious, but the rowboat made its way to the ship without incident. A rope ladder was lowered down along the portside and Josephine, Sir John, and the armed escort climbed up in turn to the ship's main deck. The ship was bustling with activity, and as soon the group was on steady feet a man bellowed across deck. "They're onboard!"
A prominent man upon the upper deck raised a hand. Josephine assumed he was the ship's captain. "Signal the fleet! We have her!"

A crew member rushed to the main mast, although Josephine couldn't quite see what he was doing. Moments after a white and blue flag were raised high and the princess followed them with her gaze until they reached the top of the mast. She then squinted off at the formation in the distance and could just barely spot a hoisting flag from one of the ships in response. She didn't know what the flags meant, but they were used for some sort of communication.

"Princess?" Sir John's voice sounded from her left. She looked to him and he gestured her along. The two followed a sailor into one of the cabins and they had a clear view to the outside from several windows.
"The captain would be honored to accommodate the princess in his cabin until we have reached a secure port." The sailor spoke up, directed to Sir John, who simply nodded. "Your captain has our thanks. You may leave."

The sailor briskly left the cabin and shut the doors behind him. Josephine sat down next to the windows and peered outside. She could hear the many voices of the crew on the deck and within moments the ship begun to move. She turned her head and looked up towards Monarch's Rise, doubting if she would see it again in its current state. She worried for her friends that she had to leave behind in the keep, and she worried for her father that was out there somewhere, poised to take back the city.

Careful steps. Those were the only she could take. With a tired grimace on her face, Eliana had made it to some pillar she had found her way to the last few days. Tallof had given her a staff she could navigate around with, which she tried to do her best. The Cleric had looked for work for the girl, by the request of Freda. Being blind didn’t seem to fit in well with the Order, Eliana scoffed slightly. She had been dressed in a warm robe, the colours not important to her. As long as the girl was warm, the girl was happy. Some young woman had assisted Tallof in tending her, having braided her hair neatly.
Navigating around people and animals weren’t a problem; the warmth of their souls still alerted Eliana about their location. The wind moved through her hair, causing the first smile in days. She was getting somewhere, and had started to accept her fate. Around her eyes was still the silky cloth, with the wet substance covering her eyes. So far no progress had been made, but the Cleric had high hopes, higher than Ellie at least. Eliana tucked her arms around herself, folding the sleeves from the robe. The end of the sleeves was wide, and reminded her of the robes she had seen from Valentus, mostly. It was comfy, which was a sensation she had most certainly missed.

Behind her the sound of footsteps stepping in the dirt occurred. It became higher, and Ellie quickly assumed it was Tallof. He didn’t seem to have much else to do for the moment, seeing as Eliana was the only person at the camp who had managed to get herself wounded. The Walker sighed, still staring into the distance. She had found her way to the edge of the camp, where she was mostly left alone.

“No, the cloth isn’t dry yet. I’ll make sure to send word for you when it needs changing.” Eliana muttered.

However there was no immediate response, which caused Eliana to raise an eyebrow. With a slow movement she turned her head, her eyes searching for the now familiar nothingness. She felt a different sort of aura, which almost startled her.

With a hoarse voice, the person finally spoke.

“Ser’fus sosesio nornos oro…” it waited.

Eliana froze, before taking in a shaking breath. She gulped, barely being able to keep herself calm.

“Frageme iris relisia…” She finally managed to respond, almost becoming teary as she leaped towards the voice, tossing her arms around him. The man returned the hug, letting Eliana rest on his shoulder. Sadness, happiness and many other feelings were mixed into the tears that she wept, though it was mostly relief. The aura had once again become familiar, allowing Eliana to calm down, as so many questions and words to say roamed her troubled mind. She pulled away from the hug, stuttering her the only word she could get out.

“H-how…?” she tried her empty eyes.

The man studied her, as he grimaced.

“Word about your teacher spread.” His mature voice was calm, though he observed his surroundings as he spoke.

“Andalus knew of Jonius’ fate, though yours remained unknown. I see now that… You both took damage from the encounters at Lowburg.” The man peered at the girl’s eyes, rubbing his chin carefully.

Ellie didn’t respond, the overwhelming feelings preventing her from even thinking of more to ask.

“Do not worry, Metillius. We will find the woman to look at you; she may have a solution for your vision. Right now…” He stopped himself, waiting until a nearby soldier had passed. “We need to move on. Time is short. We’ll go north, further.” He nodded to himself, taking hold of Eliana and leading her onwards through the camp, back to the tent with her possessions.

“Sekaia… I still have his books.” Ellie muttered out.

“Good, very good. We’ll need everything for what’s coming.”

As they walked into the tent, Sekaia packed Ellie’s things together, leaving her in the corner to rub her arm.

“We’re leaving? Just like this?” Eliana sighed, something holding her back from just going.

“You need not dwell on that subject, Aspirant. They may have kept you alive, but they did not save your eyes.” His words caused Ellie to snort, almost getting offended.

Sekaia stopped, sighing at Ellie. He walked towards her, swinging her satchel over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I know this may have been the closest to a home you’ve had for a while, but we’re expected. I know you encountered something, and they need to know about it.” Sekaia spoke in a calm voice, the fairly middle-aged man having packed all of Ellie’s things.

“The Grandmaster will be expecting us.” Sekaia scanned the tent for anything they’d need.

Eliana blinked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’ve never met the Grandmaster before.” She muttered to herself. Sekaia grinned to himself.

“Do not worry. He’s not a greater danger than anything you’ve faced the last week.” Sekaia said, amused by his humours speak.

Before they exited the tent, Ellie spoke again.

“What does Larnicus want with me?”

Miriam
Chapter 23: The White path



Miriam gnawed idly on the dried piece of jerky, she walked as she ate, there was no point in wasting time sitting down. With a brisk walking pace she and Leia had gotten quite far in the last three days. As Miriam looked around she was glad to see that the bogs and wastelands had been replaced with more lush, if white and snow covered woods. The wall of trees loomed on either side of the road and Miriam couldn't peer into the dark forest any further than she could throw a rock into it. The gravel road that she walked on was lit by the stars above and walking down it was no issue. Miriam tore off a piece of the jerky and she whistled briefly, garnering Leia's attention to then feed the dog the scrap casually. Leia tore into it and chowed heartily, barking gratefully in return. Miriam smiled down for the dog and pet her head, but something caught her eye in the distance, down the road a light was bobbing. Miriam took it for a lantern and she grew a bit tense, this would be the first person she had met since leaving Fort Royal. Miriam moved a hand beneath her new gray cloak where a Midway dagger was fastened behind her back, just to ensure that she still had it. She then doffed her hood and whipped her tied up hair back. Leia walked in behind Miriam's legs as the cart came rolling slowly toward them, the light had indeed been a lantern which was hanging off of a wooden carriage, untop of the carriage sat a sullen driver. Judging by the woodwork and the horse rather than mule that pulled the thing this was a wealthy lot. The driver had spotted Miriam down the road by now and as they came closer he locked eyes with her. Miriam lowered her head and walked as if she had not seen them, she would rather just be on her way. The carriage passed on her right, its creaky wheels moved and they passed. Miriam sighed in relief, there was then a spur of the reins, the man hollered and the horse that pulled the thing halted. Miriam cringed.
"Oy, 'scuse me!" Said the man in a tenuous voice. He called back over his shoulder. Miriam turned and looked back toward him.
"What?" She asked.
"Well, figure I should tel-.." The man was interrupted as a woman popped her head through the carriage window, her face was scarfed and she was dressed up to her top in animal furs, primarily wolf.
"Timothy! Why are we stopping?!" The lady demanded to know as she barked at the driver. Her face was pinkish red, either from the cold of maybe from her rage. The driver scratched his neck and murmured briefly, Miriam did not hear his response as he was too far away. The lady stared at the driver, known as Timothy and then she snapped her eyes back to the white dressed Miriam where she stood on the road. The lady scoffed derisively.
"Then get on with it, man." Said the woman and she thrust her head back inside the cart, whereafter she promptly shut its window. Miriam looked after her and then set her eyes on Timothy. He nodded and then said.
"Might not wanna go West, miss. The sudden cold got lots o' people dead and there was no time to burn most, Undead outbreak is going to turn out pretty bad 'til the King's men show up."
"The King's men are fighting Raylians, far as I know." Miriam replied and she shrugged half heartedly. This made Timothy blink, the man was undoubtedly counting on the army to clean up and had not considered that they had problems of their own.
"Well - er. We're going to Raftfjord. I'd offer you a ride but the missus ain't go-.." Again he was interrupted as the same Missus was banging on the carriage wall. Miriam shook her head and said.
"That's alright. I'll be sure to avoid the West, good luck, you."
"Eh. Good luck, miss." Said Timothy and he turned rather hesitantly to face forward.
With a snap of the reins the carriage began to roll again down the road Miriam had walked. She sniffled and adjusted her brand new bag, looking down to Leia for a moment. She then nodded her head and the two were on their way again. She would have to avoid the Western lands for now, perhaps she'd have better luck North...

Miriam
Chapter 24: Marspointe

The western parts of the Northern Realm is characterized, as much of the North is, by its superstition and general distrusting nature towards strangers. Perhaps moreso due to its proximity to the island nation of Valentus and the sea between them, which had once been used by the mage-Nation to drown the coastal villages and its citizens during the days of war between the two lands. Miriam had followed the path due North by North-west and she was inching on the borders of the Kingdom's lines, the sea was still miles away and she could not see it but the environment had changed as she had walked. The woodlands and curvaceous hills had slowly been replaced by more craggy mountains and sparse clusters of birch. The land was still white with snow that crunched beneath the boots of the huntress and the paws of her companion as they walked down the trodden path that led into the small township of Marspointe. The snow that lay over the ground had been beaten down by many feet and wheels before Miriam, none that she could see led the way that she had come, it seemed only the lady in the carriage and Timothy were going that way which would explain why the road she had walked had been so sparse of people. Cottages and fields had been abandoned but there was no immediate threat that would cause such retreat. Perhaps they were fearful of the dead, aswell?

Miriam found the Marspointe tavern, it lay near the town entrance, a rustic wooden building which roof was heavy with snow, icicles hung by its edges, Winter had set in unnaturally early which didn't bother the seasoned Miriam but the people of Marspointe seemed far from pleased with the weather. There was not much of a crowd inside the tavern, a few workers sat together, complaining about this or that, there was also two guardsmen, part of the militia, their only valid point of authority was the iron at their belts and they seemed far from the soldiers Miriam had been exposed to recently. The people lent their eyes up as Miriam entered, she brought in a cold wind with her into the silent tavern and it earned her a growl from an elderly man who sat closer to the door, Miriam looked at him and shrugged in lack of words before she carried on.

"What can I do your for, traveler?" Asked the woman at the counter, her face pink and her nose sniveling. She was courteous and even smiled, if faintly.
"I just meant to ask," Started Miriam. "Why the place is so abandoned? Haven't seen a problem with the dead." The tavern girl blinked, stared at Miriam for a while and then took a glance around the tavern, Miriam trailed it but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The girl seemed pleased as well and she spoke, although with a discreet tone of voice.
"The dead aren't the problem... I mean, they were. Many of the villages around here weren't prepared for the snowfall and then there was a sickness in the potatoes. It spread out among the whole area, seemed unnatural so people got to blaming the new arrivals."
"New arrivals?" Asked Miriam.
"Mh-mmh. They were some religious folk, we've never been much for faith here but er, they seemed alright. When things had gotten bad and people started to fall dead the guards took in their Priest for questions."
Miriam nodded along, listening to the story as the girl then continued.
"Odd Faith too, they worshiped some Rider figure and they were always dressed in black - Anyway. It all went bad and they started fighting, don't know who struck first but them Religous and the guards got to fighting each other, even killing."
"What happened?" Asked Miriam, she imagined there was a slim chance these Black garbed people may been the same Cultists that she'd encountered but smartly did not voice that concern.
"Well. With all the fighting there were bound to be Undead. We in the town were getting quite concerned..." The girl paused, looked around again and then continued. "But then they came. These Riders. Mercenaries, I think. Just Nine of them and they could rid dozens of undead. Now they're out helping villages and farms all around, trying to find the Religious folk and stop them for all of us!" The girl strained a smile.
Miriam struck a dubious face and nodded.
"Uhu..." She breathed. "So a group of Faithful men start a plague to create Undead... And are now fighting Nine mercenary riders?" Miriam converged the girl's story and seemed to have understood it judging by her approving reaction.
"They're doing more for us than the King's men ever has."
Miriam doubted that but decided not to insult the supposed heroes.
"If you ever see them, you will know - Sir Ranyar is their leader and you will know it just by looking." The girl nodded and held a dreaming glint in her eye. "He's quite handsome."
Miriam nodded concisely and cared nothing for how handsome such a man could be.
"Well, thanks for telling me." Miriam shoved a hand into her bag and retrieved one of the many coins she'd gotten from Freda and paid the girl with the silver. She inspected it briefly, confused as to the coin's origin and brand, but she accepted it and Miriam got some warm food for it.

She walked out of the tavern again, took the steps down from the stairs and she patted her thigh, calling Leia along, whom had waited outside. The dog barked happily and trailed her.
"What a sorry bunch." Miriam said to Leia as they walked. "Who thinks killing people will solve an Undead problem?" She half laughed and shook her head, the two passed around the corner of the tavern, going back to the main road when something got in her way.
"You'd be surprised." Said the voice, and a grinning smile looked down upon her. The smile belonged to a rugged looking man, he was dressed in a fur cloak and had a sword by his hip, a longbow hung by his shoulder and he smiled confidently as he stood in Miriam's way. "I have found it quite effective."