Last Seed 18, 4E 205
News of the truce broke yesterday. A Camlorn messenger came through the portal, saying Prince Narcisse had suffered minor injuries. Typical, that arrogant prick never had any bite behind his bark, not that biting a vampire lord would do anything good. It's amazing the soft-bellied monarchs agreed to anything; Emmeria must be smarter than she let on. Personally, I prefer we just get down to business, but it made sense for everyone to plan and backstab each other first. One week; one more sodding week until I cut "Prince" Gregory Bellemont's pretty head off his epaulet-adorned shoulders.
I had taken temporary residence at this "House of Commons". It's the most upscale brothel, and a few from the company already visited before. At this point, it didn't really matter what they do. We took the city and got our pay. None of us were interested in patrolling for petty criminals; everyone knew the pay was rubbish anyway. So I guess now's the time to enjoy a little earthly pleasure; try some different, like that infamous Khajiit, before such action is no longer becoming of the king. Plus, the bed here's soft and plump, though the artificial fragrance could be...overbearing.
Still, sleeping in the premium suites was comfortable. But last night, I had the most unusual dream. The dream took place in a gray smoky void, and I was visited by three queens; all of them majestic, terrifying and otherworldly. The first one was a warrior-queen, clad in impervious ebony adorned with serpentine patterns. I was not uncertain if she was a man, until she spoke to me. The next was the silk-clad queen, tempting and alarming. She wore a spiked crown infused with chitin, and her arms, all six of them, weaved incomprehensible patterns. Finally, there was the grotesque queen. She skulked in the shadows of her fellow queens, never prominent, yet always present in the edge of my vision. I spared her one curious glance, and no more; her form was a horrifying, yet beautiful, amalgamation of my deepest fears.
When they spoke, they spoke in a tongue I had never heard of, yet, I could understand every single word. They spoke of a contest among themselves, for pride and power only bestowed by a mortal agent. They informed me of the last agent, a man with the voice of thunder, courted by many more of their peers. Finally, they all judged me, and I bowed my head, not daring to look into their eyes. I will be the fated one in this moment, they told me, and I must choose my patron.
The silk-clad queen spoke first. "Choose me, mortal," her many arms beckoned seductively, "and I shall grant you the secrets of allegiances and betrayals."
"Take up the mantle of my champion." She continued. Her voice was smooth as velvet. In her hands, a long and svelte sword, jet black and seeping with cold malice, materialized. She offered it to me. "Master the web of love and hate."
The grotesque queen stepped forward next. "Choose me, mortal," tendrils shifted around her form, "and you shall forever be remembered and rightfully feared."
"Do not reject what you do not know." She encouraged me. Her form settled into an elderly woman, and she held a skull-adorned staff, the very sight of which made my spine shiver. The staff whispered to me. "Make your foes suffer."
At last, the warrior-queen announced herself. "Choose me, mortal," her voice was authoritative like a legate, yet defiant like an insurgent, "and in my name you shall conquer."
"I only ask you to fight with my blade." The warrior-queen threw back her hooded cloak, revealing powerful physique and skin dark as the armor she wore. She drew her sword; it was of gold and flame. "Take it, and carve out your own destiny."
"Choose." They spoke in unison. "Choose you boon, and your curses."
I weighed my options carefully. I wanted to refuse, to wake up and ask a priest to banish this perverted encounter from my mind. However, the warrior-queen's offer was irresistible; I needed a weapon to grant me strength above others.
I knelt down in front of her, my hands held out obediently.
She sheathed the golden blade and placed it in my waiting palms. When I grasped it, she laughed.
"It is once again what it should be." She turned to her fellow queens. "Was there ever any doubt, sisters?"
The grotesque queen's response was expected. Despite her otherworldly aura, she was immune to jealousy. She slammed the skull-adorned staff into the ground, and terrifying images swirled around her. "You have merely conscripted another witless brute, Deceiver of Nations." She retorted. "And you, mortal, will know fear."
The silk-clad queen laughed along with the warrior-queen. Her laughter was sharp and piercing, like a raptor's cry before descending upon a helpless prey. She sauntered to the warrior-queen and ran her clawed finger down the ebony armor; the resulting sound was a blood-curdling scrape. "You never learn, sister; you never see beyond the battle." She smiled. "Do not worry, Everard, the third of you name, for you will enjoy playing the pawn, as you always will."
"Enough!" The warrior-queen stomped. She shoved the silk-clad queen away, and her obsidian hair lit on fire. With a wave of her armored hands, a great inferno banished the grotesque queen's nightmares. "The destined has chosen; leave my champion!"
The grotesque queen disappeared in a flurry of tendrils, and the silk-clad queen left in a portal of webs and shadow. I was still kneeling in front of the warrior-queen, the golden blade in my hands.
"Stand, champion." She instructed. I obeyed. "Know you will be tested, you will be challenged, and you will be betrayed. But you must fight back if you are to prevail, and often fight back from the shadows. Do you understand?"
I nodded, but I know I can never comprehend the designs of a higher power.