by Ink Bamboo
The cardinal smiled, his expression one of piety and mercifulness. He looked energetic and cheerful, a stern contrast to both the old man and the girl riding next to him. “But I do speak the truth, your highness. What else do you want me to say?”
“Mere sophistry,” replied the prince. “Don’t pretend I’m not a hostage.”
“I would do no such thing,” said the cardinal, shaking his head. “You’re a valuable guide. Seeing the state you and your men are in, I simply wished to conduct an exchange of mutual help. You offer us unimpeded passage at the gates of your kingdom and we offer you protection from the dangers of the wilderness in exchange. We wouldn’t want something bad happening to you, would we?”
Lies, thought the prince. If you really wanted that, you would order your group to heal us before we advanced any further.
“Still,” continued the cardinal, “I guess I can go into a little more detail about what I intend to discuss with your father.”
“I’m all ears,” answered the prince. Even if the cardinal spoke in the form of riddles and excuses, the prince knew he could very well manage to learn something of interest. At this point in time, he would welcome anything with the remote chance of saving him from his fate.
“Very well. It does relate to your kingdom’s safety after all.”
The prince didn’t say anything, simply remaining quiet as he patted his exhausted horse to keep up with the cardinal’s.
“We previously sent you your nation some information regarding the rebels in the northern part of your lands. I’m afraid there was something we overlooked, however. And from the look of things, it seems you already know what I mean.”
“The Church of Death…” muttered the prince, his tone glazed with both killing intent and resignation.
“Indeed,” answered the cardinal, his smile growing even wider as he looked at the prince’s troops in the back. “So sad that we didn’t make it in time.”
Bullshit, thought the prince. He was doing as much as he could to control himself from going berserk. Power legitimized the authority of its wielder. Even if the cardinal decided to lie or mock him through his teeth, the prince had no way of going against the man at this time. Thus, it was in his best interest for them to share a common enemy.
“We’re here to make up for our mistake, nonetheless,” said the cardinal, easily dismissing any concern over the prince and his troops.
With an answer already in his mind, the prince asked, “And how exactly do you pretend to do that?”
“By offering our full support, of course,” answered the cardinal, an aura of virtue radiating around him. “Troops, blessings, holy water — you name it. Anything your kingdom needs, we’ll provide in this time of need. Of course, we’ll need to negotiate some concessions with your father in order to do that.”
*Hmpf*
Surprisingly, it wasn’t the prince who snorted. Instead, it was the old man riding next to the cardinal. He had been quiet so far, seemingly tired enough to dismiss every lie the old zealot had been busy weaving. Before such a display of blatant deception, all of his attention had been focused on the young girl riding next to them, something the prince had earlier on dismissed as part of the church’s usual strangeness.
“Forgive my friend here,” noted the cardinal, the cheerfulness in his charade fading slightly. “He’s been a little grumpy as of late. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure he will behave for the remainder of our trip. Won’t you, Magnus?”
Taking a moment to recall where he had heard the name, the prince quickly reacted, “Magnus! Do you mean the old man who led Ionia’s mage division before its fall?”
“The one and only,” answered the cardinal, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “He’s now a loyal servant of our church. That being said, I would appreciate it if you didn’t refer to the theocracy’s founding under those terms.”
“Of course,” replied the prince, his voice turning a little more prudent. As much as he hated the cardinal and his sophistry, he had never feared the man as much as at this very moment. Before this, he had just behaved according to what the situation demanded. Especially so given the state both he and his troops were currently in.
Everything changed with Magnus’s presence, however.
He was single-handedly responsible for stalling Nyx’s expansion for decades. Before the strange events that had led to Nyx’s downfall, Magnus’s continued existence was the biggest threat to every member of the royal family. Rumors had it he was far more dangerous than Arkus, for he had received special instruction by mages from the mainland.
Thus, it was greatly shocking for the prince to see the man in this condition. He barely looked alive. A mere husk remained of the legend that had once terrorized these lands. If he was truly serving the church, then that meant that the cardinal…
No, thought the prince. I’d better stop that line of thought.
He had too much to lose by falling into despair. For now, it was in his best interest to remain cold and rational, looking for any opportunity that might present himself. If he had proved to be good at anything, it was surviving.
In that way, their talks continued for the entire night. Contrary to what the prince expected, the church’s troops only had to take one stop. Even then, they only took a short while to take a quick nap. Healing spells, apparently, had a wider range of uses than he was aware of.
Because of that, they managed to shorten the trip back to Nyx’s capital to only one day. From the distance, their entourage was finally able to catch a glimpse of the city, the tall walls blocking them from scanning whatever was hidden by the insides. Still, the view of their home was enough to bring relief to the prince and his few surviving followers.
We’re finally here, thought the prince. Even if most of his soldiers were considerably spent — as they had not been included in the list of targets that required healing by the priests — he was still comforted by the safety of his own home. That is, of course, as long as the cardinal and his troops really had come under the intentions of conducting diplomacy.
“Such a cute town,” noted the cardinal, breaking away the prince from his line of thought. “It reminds me of the theocracy in its earlier stages, when we were demolishing everything to restructure the city.”
“Town?” questioned the prince. That was an order of magnitude smaller than what his city represented. If not for the other party’s strength, he would have been considerably offended.
“Ah, forgive me,” noted the cardinal, curtsying in a fake apology. “I’m still used to the scale of things in the mainland. Your kingdom’s capital, as one may say, is still a tad too small to deserve the name of a city back where I am from.”
“There are thousands living here,” retorted the prince. “Not even your theocracy would be big enough to call a city under that scale.”
“Not now,” admitted the cardinal. “But the way things are going, our population will reach that point in less than a decade.”
“How is that possible?” asked the prince, momentarily losing control over his expression. Ever since some unknown event in years past, a great wave of hardships had struck his country. Crops didn’t grow as planned, plagues invaded more often, and resources had all in all become harder to acquire. How then was it sustainable for his neighbor’s population to have a steady increase?
“Ah, I keep forgetting your kingdom is a bit of a…”
“Wasteland?” offered Erin, her gaze not moving away from her book. Even while riding her horse, her gaze was planted on whatever literature was in her hand.
“Yes, that’s the word,” said the cardinal. “Thank you, child.”
Angered by the description, the prince shot a look at the blonde girl riding close to him and the cardinal. Magnus’s infuriated gaze turning in his direction, however, forced his gaze away less than a second later.
“Anyway,” continued the cardinal, “it’s normal for things to be that way. Perhaps you aren’t aware, given how far we’re fro
m true civilization, but a god’s personal blessing can really make a difference when it comes to developing a nation.”
“I see,” said the prince, not really knowing how to interpret that information. Was his kingdom really that lacking? Had his ancestors been wrong to choose a secular path for their nation?
Gleeful at how effective his words were being, the cardinal continued, “Back in the mainland, most kingdoms throw most of their faith in the way of one or two deities. This corner of the continent, however, abandoned that tradition long ago. Because of that, no god has ever taken interest of expanding their influence here.”
“What about your god, then?” asked the prince. The cardinal’s words had given him an idea of what it was they were after. If their goal was faith and not authority, then perhaps he could convince his father to lay some concessions for them.
“Goddess,” corrected the cardinal. “The Lady of Light is a merciful one. Seeing the difficult times this land is going through, she sent me here to spread her message and turn you away from your loathsome path. Perhaps, if you put in some effort, you all will be able to change your fate.”
“Perhaps,” said the prince, not really wanting to continue that line of thought until he could speak with his father. Right now, he felt an endless sense of unease. For some reason, ever since their group had approached the gates, an eerie feeling had started crawling down his spine. For the first time in his life, the entrance to his kingdom gave him the feeling that he was crossing the gates of hell.
It must be my nerves getting the best of me, thought the prince. Why are the gates empty to begin with?
“Did you perhaps send all of your guards to join the attack on the rebels?” mocked the cardinal, seemingly thinking about the same issue. There was a glint of derision in his eyes as he looked at the empty gates. “I didn’t think the situation of your kingdom would be this bad.”
“No, there should still be enough people to take care of the inner city,” said the prince, patting his horse to advance forward as he looked back to the own curious eyes of his men. They were probably wondering the same. “At the very least, there should be enough personnel for someone to be stationed in the gates.”
“Good,” said the cardinal, his expression shifting into one of wariness. “It’s in your best interest not to try anything stupid at this point in time.”
It was the first time since they started riding together the prince had seen the old man drop his facade. It appeared even he was wary for some reason.
“It’s awfully quiet for a city,” noted Magnus, his eyes looking around as he crossed the gates towards the insides of the city. “Why did nobody stop a convoy as big as ours?”
“Why indeed…” muttered someone leaning against the city walls. He had somehow managed to escape both Magnus and the cardinal’s senses, much less those of their entourage. Only upon hearing his voice was his presence revealed.
Alerted by him, the group immediately turned around, facing the stranger ahead of them with looks full of wariness. As they did, they momentarily noticed the surface of the walls he was laying against. Impressive strokes of dried blood formed several glyphs extending across most of the walls’ rocky surface, all of them forming an arcane-looking inscription that inspired rejection from the very depth of their souls.
It was in this situation that a stray thought crossed the prince’s mind: Are these the warding schemes father ordered those merchants to set? Somehow, he felt himself losing control of his thoughts, the hostility he held towards the church and the random newcomer vanishing alongside his cognitive abilities.
If not for the following shout, he might have never awakened.
“Heretic!” roared the cardinal, a wave of light spreading with him as the center. The amiable smile he had always displayed was now gone, replaced by the face of a raging asura. “You dare to try an attack on my subordinates’ souls? They belong to no one but my goddess. You deserve death!”
“And I willfully welcome it,” said the man, opening his arms wide as he walked out of the wall’s shadow, revealing himself. He was tall and pale, black curls of thick hair falling down his face. He was dressed exquisitely, resembling a noble out for a dinner party. That is, of course, if one decided to ignore how ill-fitting the clothes were for him. Short for his legs, and far too big on the waist, they were something any onlooker would be able to tell had never belonged to him to begin with.
It was at this time that Magnus’s gaze finally moved away from the walls, his right hand forming several motions as he hurried to place his left over Erin’s back.
“Not so fast,” said the curly-haired man, his hand representing his intent to stop Magnus. “We can’t let you leave now that you’ve seen this.”
Immediately, Magnus felt a clot of blood form in his throat, sending a spear of crimson out of his mouth and into the dirt below. His opponent had apparently figured out what he wanted to do, disrupting his teleportation spell by scattering the mana he was gathering from the surroundings. It was something that made his brow grow further together, the realization of his suspicions coming true.
“Normally, I wouldn’t go against you so openly,” said the ill-fitted man. “Would be a waste not to do so since you stumbled upon us here, though. Consider it payback.”
“What is he talking about?” asked the cardinal. Old as he was, he could feel the formation inscribed in the wall tugging at his very soul. He didn’t recognize most of the sigils therein contained, but some of them were still familiar to him. They were commonly included in rituals and seals that involved the soul. Much like the one Erin had taken in order to be granted this mission.
The fact that he now felt threatened by them, however, was anything but good.
“The Church of Death,” muttered Magnus, slowly wiping the blood on the corner of his mouth. As someone from outside the clergy, he had been able to delve into forbidden knowledge far more extensively than the cardinal. Still, it wasn’t the formation on the wall which had revealed the man’s identity. No, Magnus had met him once before.
“He’s an apostle…”
Immediately, the looks of the cardinal and the clergy next to Magnus widened in surprise. They had felt something was off in the man confronting them, but it never crossed their mind he was a member of that organization. Ever since they had entered the city, something had been dulling their minds, impeding them from noticing anything special in the man before them. Thus, it wasn't until Magnus pointed it out that they realized the gravity of the situation.
“Kill him!” ordered the cardinal, no longer hesitating on how to act. “I’ll hold him back if he tries to do another attack on your souls.”
“Yes, sir!” replied both the paladins and priests, immediately dismounting as they approached the man. Horses, just like other common animals, were usually weak when it came to fights involving their minds or their souls. It was in their best interest to fight with the apostle without them getting in the way.
“I’m afraid it’s not me you’ll have to go against,” said the ill-fashioned man. Even when faced with a middle-sized team of paladins, there was no fear at all in his face. “We had been pondering how to take our experiment to the next level, so I guess it’s fortunate that you arrived. I’m sure you will be great practice for our new toys.”
Confused by his comment, some paladins turned around, carefully taking in their surroundings as they started to encircle their target. Only then did they notice they were no longer alone. The streets that had been empty as they entered the city were now beginning to fill to the brim with people, an endless stream of individuals wearing civilian clothes constantly walking out of the city’s buildings.
Before they could properly prepare, most of the city’s alleys were filled with them. People walking with a broken gait. Men and women whose eyes were completely blank. Civilians who were now raising their hands against the church, the prince, and even their men as if they were the worse deviants amongst criminals.
; *Sigh*
Magnus was the first to realize what they were, and therefore, who it was that they were really facing. It was not just the Church of Death, like he had told the cardinal and his cronies. It was a single man. A man he had been forced to compromise with not too long ago.
“Argent.”
Chapter 26
City of the dead.
Riding with the sun aiming at their backs, the rebel council led their army with pride. Given the threat of Nyx’s army was eliminated, they were finally at ease. With only a small group of the kingdom’s troops having been able to escape, Richard and the rest of the council were sure the next part of their plan would now go flawlessly.
“Still,” said Richard, “it was wise of you not to get rid of them.”
“Of course,” replied Jan, pushing his chest out with pride. “We never know if we have to be ready against Magnus and his men. Their absence is getting on my nerves.”
“We should have expected it,” noted Nolan. “I told you all along we couldn’t trust those bastards. Even more so when that man is representing them.”
“Oh, stop complaining,” interjected Arkus. “You never truly took that hard of a stance or else we wouldn’t have gone along with it. You wanted this victory as much as the rest of us.”
Katherine simply giggled, eager to see Nolan dig a grave deeper for himself.
“Whatever. Old man, how about you keep telling us about what the butler had to say,” said Nolan, eager to divert the conversation away from him.
“Very well,” said Jan, mockingly grinning towards the wanna-be thug. “We were able to get a few things out of him before he died. Fortunately for us, he was surprisingly forthcoming about everything. Given how fast he died, we wouldn’t have been able to get anything out of him otherwise. What a shame, truly, I wanted to have some more fun prolonging his death. He was the prince’s caretaker, after all. It would have helped me vent a little.”