by SlyOkami
“And these,” Ascal continued as he gestured at the other three, “Are my Xilfir sisters, Pyra of the east, Zentha of the west, and our commander…Elder sister Makaela of the north.” He dramatically introduced each of them.
Zentha calmed herself by gripping her blade and mumbling about slicing off Ascal’s tongue.
“Yes, yes. And you talk too much.” The voice responded with a bored tone, “Blazes, I thought you’d never shut up. And they say I monologue!” chuckling into a sigh. “Where was I? Ah yes.”
Each elf spun on the spot as they sensed a surge of mana, two spheres of golden flame appearing before them. Like eyes, they blinked and stared at the elves. “Xilfir, I am the one known to you as the guardian. The one known to the rest of the world, as the destroyer.” Each elf paled severely as the being’s mana rushed out, unable to protect themselves the power flowed directly into their minds, paralyzing them.
“I, am Erikathyr, the white drake.” He announced with a resounding voice, each of the four elves were suddenly forced to kneel. “Yes, you might say that I was killed over a thousand years ago. But it is a fact that I have returned…” he trailed off briefly, waiting for their response.
But each of the elves was wide-eyed baffled, the mana that filled them was indisputably their master’s but they simply could not fathom…all of this.
“Err…Are your brains still functional in there?” Erikathyr asked, seeing that none of them spoke back.
Makaela snapped out of her daze first, “G-Guardian?…”
“Yes?” Erikathyr immediately responded.
The four elves glanced at each other, most of them speechless, while Makaela continued to stutter. “Y-You’re…You’re here? The Guardian? The Destroyer?” she asked in continued disbelief.
“Ugh…Yes, it is me.” He now grumbled in response, “Do you need further proof? I can…incinerate something?” Erikathyr offered awkwardly.
“N-N-No, no!” Pyra begged, “D-Don’t…Please?” as she glanced about at the expensive and ancient statues.
“Whatever, point is. I’m back. So now tell me, Xilfir.” They saw as a glow of golden electricity sparked before the two fiery eyes, forming the brief shape of a hand rising. To which, each of their heads rose. “Where do your loyalties lay today?” Now suddenly freed from their paralysis, still, none of them dared stand or look away.
“Are the Xilfir, still my blade?” Erikathyr asked.
Makaela met the being’s fiery eyes, her own reflecting the golden energy in response. She could feel the drake’s power frolicking her surroundings, giving her a taste of what waited to awaken within her blood. “Erikathyr, the guardian, the destroyer, the white.” She chanted as the other four glanced at her, ”We Xilfir repledge. We follow, we obey. Eternally, we serve.”
Makaela looked back at the other three, without needing to say a word, with only a glance they knew she was serious. Nodding back, before also turning to gaze into the fiery spheres of gold. “Eternally,” they chanted in unison “We serve.”
Erik clapped his hands together once. “Then our bond is remade. Now, onto some pressing matters,” he said, his shape starting to shimmer. “Provide me with some…clothing.” He paused as his form gradually faded in from invisibility, “To cover up this horrendous human vessel.” Finishing with a nonchalant tone, his gloriously still naked self revealed to all.
The elves glanced away, “Now I wouldn’t call that horrendous, guardian…” all but Makaela, who shamelessly looked him over with a grin.
Ch 10 - Treachery
Lavish, that is how one could describe this magnificent hall. Lit by environmental magic, with no torch or source crystal in sight, neither was there a shadow to be found. A long hall decorated with many kinds of art depicting Druvia’s history. From paintings, statues, tapestries, pottery and even long scrolls inscribed with illusionary spells.
A young boy stood before one large piece of pottery, a dark brown base with just as dark and gruesome colouring for the scenes. The young boy nobly walked about the pot, staring at each scene.
“The ripping of reality, as demons flooded into our world. Villages being burned, as monsters enraged by the demon’s miasma devastated the land. Then a battle, a large army of humans, dwarves and small squads of elves.” The boy recounted the events, “Faced with an even larger armada of mangled monstrosities risen from the abyss.” He placed his hand over the last scene.
“The second war, the invasion of the abyss?” Then spoke an elderly man as he opened the expertly carved wooden doors and stepped into the room. Wearing a red suit flowing down into a robe, the man had fully grey hair and deep white eyes. “Your Highness, I believe it is bad luck to recount old failures when faced with adversity.“ the man respectfully stated as he approached the young king.
“Meister Drew? No, I believe it is smart to study and pick history apart. It is from failures, that we learn the most from.” The boy responded without looking away, staring at the depiction of a human king wearing a fully black Slayer’s armour and wielding a claymore made from the same scale and claw.
“Ah, King Celeste Druvia the Fourth. Your double great-grandfather, in action.” Drew recounted as he glanced at the depicted Slayer, ember hair and light brown eyes just like the young boy before him.
“The demons swarmed us, charging with abandon they ignored the devastating dwarven artillery and the precise elven cavalry. Without a care, unafraid and maddened the abyss’s beasts charged directly into human lines.” The young king told the story, ”Our fine soldiers resisted the horde of monstrosities, military formations and tactics unchallenged by the random and reckless demonic barbarians…”
“Sol…We will be fine, Azruxan’s army is severely weakened by their mindless invasion of the border fortress. They cannot hope to challenge the capital’s defences.” Drew assured.
“But,” Sol continued, “our strategies mattered not when faced with the hundreds of Demon Lords. Like gods given physical forms, they single-handedly decimated entire platoons. Their magic, leagues beyond what our highest order of mages could produce. Their bodies, biological machines birthed by the very abyss for a sole and singular purpose…War.”
Drew grew silent, respectfully listening to the wise young king. Trained by the finest swordsmen, mages and archers. Taught by the best of arch wizards. Drew only regretted one thing, that the boy’s parents weren’t around to see him now.
“Only the Slayers could match the Demon Lords, only them and…Four others. My great, great grandfather. Celeste Druvia the fourth, donning Zyndreth the black’s skin as his own. Taya Fae’er, the elven queen of the fifth age. Wielding the ages old relic, the grand staff of gaia. Skozmumin Warmantle, the dwarven emperor. Riding his maniacal beast equipped with all kinds of dwarven engineering, Odin the war-born rhino…” Sol trailed off, going silent as he stared at the last depiction.
“The fourth hero of the great second war,” Drew began recounting the titles in his stead, “Pledged to the Ice Dragon Findri, legendary killer of Erikathyr the destroyer, first of the order of Slayers…Alan the immortal. He may be an ancient drunk these days, but your majesty, the man saved countless lives in his past.”
Sol sighed, taking another step to the right revealed the rest of the last scene. “Those four alongside the Slayers Order, held back the Demon Lords. Until he came.” Sol gazed at the fiery colossus, dwarfing the rest of the characters by his size. “The second Devil King, Azruxan the god eater.”
The full scene depicted Azruxan’s gigantic fist falling like a meteor upon Celeste and Taya, as Skozmumin and Alan held back the Demon Lords alongside dozens of Slayers. “The Druvian king and Elven queen, in a last effort to save our world. They cast the ultimate spell, by sacrificing their very lives they cast the ninth-tier world spell ‘God’s Tear’…It merely injured Azruxan, but enough for the Devil to retreat back into the abyss from which it came.”
Sol placed his hand over the fiery depiction, “The demons did not retreat, the Demo
n Lords only faltering momentarily. It was us who retreated instead, as the demons recovered from their king’s rally…we ran. We gave up half the continent, gave up on ancient elven cities and dwarven empires. We escaped, only to hide behind our walls.”
Sol glanced back at Drew for the first time now, “A wall that has been collapsed. Our countrymen now being massacred by the thousands, people who worked our fields, provided our food. And how do we repay them? Drew? How?”
The young boy’s fierce gaze even made the elderly Drew’s eyes falter, “We repay them by continuing to hide behind bigger walls. To protect ourselves, we abandoned them.” Sol answered his own question. “I will not let their sacrifice be in vain. That is…what I wish, but.” He sighed once more, a dreadful breath as he closed his eyes.
“I’m surrounded by enemies Drew. The landlords do not recognise my rule, my late father never had the time to announce his descendant…I’m merely the oldest of my siblings.” Sol said as he clenched his fists, “They challenge my throne, yet I have nothing to prove their rebellious acts. I know not who to trust, I know not who to call traitor…I know not who to ask for help.”
Drew bowed, “I am your humble servant and guardian sire, I am here to aid where I can.”
Sol waved him off to stand, “Thank you, Drew. But your archives cannot help me here…Yes the past can be a source of learning, but it cannot be the only source. If only spymaster Elias was still alive…He-He’d know what to do.”
“The spymaster’s men are still scattered, their system too complex to reconnect…I’m afraid we cannot rely on them sire.” Drew solemnly reported.
“Yes, I know. What I wish to know is how…How did they figure out his identity? How did they kill him at all? Who? Who did?” Sol’s tone grew angered as he scraped his nails over the pottery. “We will never know, his death the same as his entire life. Shrouded in shadows.”
“I’m afraid so, sire.” Drew bitterly agreed.
Sol opened his eyes, gazing again at the giant form of miasmic flames. “It’s been two hundred years Drew, do you…do you think Azruxan himself has returned?”
“There has been no report of such sir, else we’d be abandoning the city and the continent. The Devil still remains within the abyss, leading his army from the darkness.” Drew explained, “The damage he sustained must have been permanent, else we would have seen his presence much earlier than now.”
Sol nodded with a weak smile, “Yes, of course. Now if-” the young king began to say, when suddenly through a burst of shadows, a cloaked figure materialized before them. Sol immediately back away, as Drew stepped in front of him. Arms raised while bright blue runic lines shone all over his visible skin, the Meister’s entire body was surging with raw mana.
The cloaked figure kneeled, raising Drew’s eyebrow as he stood with both palms raised towards the feminine intruder. Grey lighting sparking in-between his hands. “Who dares appear before king Sol Druvia the first!?” Drew exclaimed, his voice resounding through the hall.
The intruder lowered their hood revealing a female dark elf, “Pyra Xilfir, Dreadblade captain of the east.” She promptly responded.
“Dark Elf? Oh, well then begone-” Drew started to say as the voltage within his palms became fiercer.
“No, wait.” Sol said, as he watched the intruder not move an inch before a grand mage’s signature spell.
“Sire?” Drew’s tone was objecting, yet he did not look away from the dark elf.
“Pyra? Why are you here?” Sol asked, while still standing behind Drew, he showed no fear of the Xilfir.
Pyra nodded her head lower, “My master sends me with valuable information…your highness.” She spoke the last two words somewhat bitterly.
“Information?” Drew repeated as he glared down at the dark elf, “At what price? Drakonian.” He spoke the last word in elven, causing Pyra’s pointed ears to bend inwards. It wasn’t a pretty word when translated.
“Drew, she is not being hostile. There is no need for insults.” Sol admonished the mage before turning back to the dark elf, “What is your master’s purpose?”
Pyra’s ears relaxed slightly, “The survival of Druvia.”
Sol narrowed his eyes as he stared at the kneeling Xilfir, she had no binding collars or visible slave’s accessory. (“Dreadblades…”) he easily recalled the bandit cult of dark elves that plagued most of Druvia. They also were one of the many enemies that plotted against his throne, yet never had they appeared so neutrally before a royal.
Sol’s gaze turned, looking once again at the depiction of Azruxan. “What kind of information do you bring?”
“Betrayal, sire.“ Pyra promptly answered this time with some respect, ”Proof of Marquis Selene, Marquis Bjorn, Commandant Sejein, Merchant Guild’s master Fiy and several church officials’ treacherous plans against the crown. The list is extensively detailed, sire.”
Sol’s eyes widened to their fullest as he turned to stare at Pyra with utter disbelief, “W-Who is…this master of yours?”
“He, who does not wish to be known, sire.” Pyra snidely explained.
“Preposterous, and you wish us to believe this wyvern dung?” Drew exclaimed, bemused.
“Wait Drew, we could confirm whether or not what she says is true.” Sol immediately cut back in, “Pyra Xilfir.” he returned to the dark elf with hopeful eyes, “I shall hear you out.”
-
* * *
-
A couple hours later.
Thea immediately crashed into the plush blue sofa, “Home sweet home…” she mumbled to herself. Sinking into the soft fabric surrounding wool, it had been almost a month since she was home. Opening her eyes to the bright crystal light that filled the lavish living room, she found herself staring up at Kayle.
“So…how was it?” her sister asked with a sneer, a fancy cold drink half empty in her left hand.
“Alcohol already Kayle?…” Thea grumbled, turning to sink lower into the warm fabric.
“Oh no you don’t,” Kayle sat down next to her “What happened at the prison? What did that oaf , Klein, do? Did Erik try to kill him again? Did he kill the moron? Did he?” she barraged her with such questions.
Thea sighed, turning to face her sister as she drank out of a straw. She grabbed the straw out of her mouth and took a sip, melon flavoured. “No, nobody killed nobody.”
“A drink Madam?” Then asked their butler as he lowered a tray of different drinks before her, an elderly man with sleek greying blonde hair, green eyes and pointed nose. “Maybe some warm tea instead?” he then pointedly asked Kayle.
“Tea, thank you Sebastian.” Thea took the cup gratefully. Kayle though took back possession of her straw and leaned back into the sofa, ignoring the butler’s remark.
“Well? What did they talk about then? Where’s your saviour now?” Kayle teased, causing Thea to pause midway through drinking her tea. “Oh please sister, I saw how you keep looking at him. Sure he’s younger but, you cannot say he wasn’t amazing back at Beckton!”
“Erik. Said. Nothing, he didn’t say a word to Klein. Who might I remind you, dear sister, is my fiancé.” Thea dreadfully explained, “He is still in lock up and doesn’t want anybody’s help apparently.”
“Ohohohoho~” Kayle giggled as she lay her now empty cup onto the coffee table before them, “Sounds like to me that Erik is a tad jealous of your fiancé!” she continued tease, poking Thea’s arm with her bare foot. “Really sister, must you marry that power-hungry fool?”
“That fool is the fourth most powerful man in Druvia. Who our father, the second most powerful man in Druvia, wishes for me to marry and join our families.” Thea sighed, holding her cup of tea with both hands to warm her palms. “I accepted the arrangement Kayle, for father.”
“I wonder if he’s been doing well since we left…It’s been half a year already since…” Kayle trailed off, laying herself down completely.
“Master Fjorn has been extraordinary, misses.” Sebastian politely
cut in, “The merchants guild and moving of resources from home to here have kept his mind busy. Biscuits?” he explained before offering them a second tray full of sweets and pastries.
“He never did allow his emotions to show, less so after mother died.” Kayle spoke under her breath as Thea took the tray and thanked the butler. “After we left a month ago…How has he been Sebastian?”
“Ah-Why not ask him yourself misses?” the butler said as he gestured at the opening door, Marquis Fjorn walking in while a guard closed the door for him.
“Pops!” Kayle exclaimed, jumping from the sofa and rushing to embrace her father.
“Ah, little one. Thank the lord you’re both safe!” said Fjorn with a chuckle as he opened his arms wide, taking the younger sister into his right arm as she hugged him. Gesturing for Thea who was still rising from the sofa “Come daughter, give this old man a hug. Graces be, I’m relieved to see you both!”
Thea also joined into her father’s embrace, kissing the old man on his forehead before carefully hugging his fragile body. “It is good to be back home, father.”
“Sebastian! Sebastian bring more refreshments!” Fjorn happily told the butler who rushed off into another room, “Sit my dears, tell me all! What happened at Beckton? I have yet to hear the full story! Tell me of your felling of a Demon Lord!” he exclaimed as they helped him sit down onto his armchair near the sofa.
Thea and Kayle sat down on the sofa once again, starting to retell the story from their arrival at Beckton. How they protected the village for weeks with only a platoon of thirty, slaying plagues of shades, assaults by fiends and the occasional succubae assassin.
Until a pack of fiends three times larger than the usual appeared, easily leaping over the village’s walls and starting a bloody massacre. Many dying before Thea’s platoon could converge, the Fiends running off after the first dropped dead.
Thea told her father how in a rage she chased after the pack of fiends, most of her platoon going with her. Falling into an ambush in the woods where even more fiends waited.