Ah, but all the wishes in the world wouldn’t allow him to go back home.
“Keep it up!” Tsarsko called back as he patrolled the place with them, Sir Finguine by his side. “And remember to keep an eye out for the enemy! We don’t know when they will strike, so stay vigilant!”
Cenric mumbled that perhaps their enemy would hear the man and stay away, not daring to say it aloud. The man seemed to obtain supernatural hearing whenever he made a smart remark towards him, and he did not want to go through those tortures again. Or, as Tsarsko called them, “team building exercises”.
He wasn’t so sure on the team building part, as Fedor and Demora hated his guts afterward. Cenric was sure that if looks could kill, then he would’ve been buried near Kiximos’s core sometime after the first few sessions. Not that he cared what they thought of him…or at least, not before reality had slapped him across the face when his cousin took the strike that was intended for him.
It had been a harsh blow to his ego, but it had been needed.
“Yes sir!” The trio yelled back, before he heard Fedor mumble something underneath his breath. Tsarsko must not have heard it for he didn’t turn, or maybe he just didn’t care. Still, it was saying something that the more military minded of the three was getting fed up with their little routine. By the Abyss, he was certain that if something didn’t happen soon, even the ever so shy Demora may start to give a little snark towards the man.
Thankfully, it seemed Miion had answered his prayer as a flare went up, the excandescant spell producing a bright blue ball of fire that flew up into the sky and detonated with a loud bang. The enforcers and knights that guarded the wall would surely swarm the church, and Cenric would finally be able to see some action.
“Finally.” He heard Fedor whisper out, his breath visible in the cold night air. Cenric couldn’t help but agree with him as his muscles tensed, and he prepared to spring into action…until he felt the tight grip of Tsarsko on his shoulder. He looked back towards the man, several curses ready to spring from his lips, before he noticed what the Knight was looking at.
In the air above one of the streets was a swirling pitch-black portal. It looked familiar to the squire, the teen trying to remember where he had seen it, before it clicked.
It was the man who had been with Damir.
He wasn’t given long to think on its origins before the howls of the Lusus filled the air. Several dozen minor variants poured out of the portal, mostly Shades and a few of the rat-like Skitters.
“It’s a distraction.” He heard Finguine’s voice over the distant screeches of the abominations, the magical beams from the enforcer’s casters already cutting them down. “That was nowhere near the size of the initial invasion. And with more enforcers and knights lurking around, those beasts will be quickly dealt with. Which means…”
Another portal opened up.
One far closer than the last.
Only a few feet in front of them stood a strange figure, the same one that Cenric had seen the night that Damir had shown himself. The crow-like plague mask it wore gleamed in the moonlight, lending it an eerie aura as if it were a ghost or a spirit of the Old Ways. The portal stayed open behind it and out strayed a…thing.
It was a Lusus, but one Cenric had never heard of, whether from any textbook back at the Academy or from Tsarsko’s stories. It was large, over eight feet tall, and its face was similar to some of the statues he had seen in the house of other nobles. Horns sprouted out of the top of it, with large tendrils extending out of the back of its head in a mimicry of human hair. The purple eyes of the Lusus gazed down at them from its position as it floated in front of them, a hunger in its gaze that made Cenric shiver. Its body was inhuman, long spindly arms attached to a strangely female torso that trailed down to a strange skirt, if the ragged black trails that hung off its lower body could be called a skirt, that flowed like a river with purple veins running along its black skin.
“Mnemosiren.” Sir Finguine growled out, his swerdan appearing in his hands with a flash of light. “Tsarsko, keep your squad back! They don’t have their mental defenses ready to-“
Cenric heard the most amazing song, felt the sweetest call fill his ears. His eyes closed for just a moment, before they opened again.
He was…he was back at the Proudhill Castle, located in the city of Hincmar. Banners lined the walls with a swine on them reminding him of where he was. The runes on the wall glowed, producing a comforting warmth that spread throughout his body.
He smiled as he leaned back in his plush chair, a book in hand as he began to read under the soothing heat. It would only be soon till he left off for the Ascean Knight Academy, and he would savor every moment he could while he was still home.
“Lord Cenric,” The voice of a young woman reached out and snatched his mind away from the book, drawing his eyes toward her. She was one of the family’s servants, short auburn hair caressing her face while bright chestnut colored eyes gazed back at him…what was her name again…ah, Katel. She was quite full figured, not like those thin waifs they called women that his grandfather tried to betroth him to. Such a shame that she was off limits to him. “Your father requires you in his study. Please don’t keep him waiting.”
“He can wait a little longer, I’m busy.” He replied.
“You could be the busiest man in the world, but when your father demands your attention, he gets it. Now,” She made a motion with her hand, “Off with you.”
“I’d rather be off with you.” He said, raising an eyebrow at the slightly older girl. She let out a laugh, thought it was less one of hilarity and more one that questioned his intelligence. Normally he’d be angry at the slight, especially from someone of lower status like her, but she had been with him since he was young, and that lent Katel a special place in his heart.
“And I’d rather keep my job.” She replied, a small smile on her face. “Besides, you know the scandal that would happen if you got yourself involved with the family maid. Being given a little bit of hush money and being sent away to take care of a secret love child is not what I want for my future.”
“Maybe as a mistress then?” He quirked his lips upward at her incredulous expression. “At the very least, you wouldn’t be sent off, and I’d actually be able to see a beautiful woman rather than those skinny little things that grandfather thinks are all a nobleman like me needs.”
“Most of the populace thinks those skinny girls are all a man needs.” She replied.
“I’m not most of the populace. I’d much rather have someone who isn’t a stick.”
“Then you will have to find a noblewoman who can provide you with that. Maybe you can find her after you go speak to your father.” She hinted, nudging him towards where she wanted him to go. “Or maybe at that knight academy you’ll be going to.”
“Maybe…” He rubbed his chin as he walked out the door, the maid following after him. “It’s doubtful. Probably be stuck with some freaks of nature knowing my luck.”
“Please don’t say such things. You know your father hates it when you talk like some thug. Says it’s not the way a noble should speak.” She was flustered at his use of such harsh language. It was something he loved to see, when her pale cheeks got all rose-colored and had that slightly worried look, as if her father would pop out of the shadows and scold her for allowing him to use such language.
She was so cute.
“He isn’t here is he?” Cenric shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like he’ll be able to stop me from really letting loose once I get down to the knight academy.”
Katel let out a snort as she looked at him with a hint of amusement in those beautiful brown orbs of hers. “You will speak as a noble while there, lest it reach your father’s ears. He will not be happy if he hears otherwise.”
“You’re right about that.” Cenric whispered back as they traversed the brightly lit hallways, chatting all the while before they came to a large wooden door.
“Your father awaits, and
I must be off.” Katel bowed. “May Miion grant you glory, Lord Cenric.” Her heels clacked against the stone floor as she left. Cenric paused, watching her leave as his eyes trailed after her longingly, before he knocked on the door.
“Enter.”
The sight that met him on the other side of the door was…plain, for lack of a better word. Leofric Proudhill was a gruff man, like his father before him, not seeing the point in much luxuries. There were a few hunting trophies along the wall, heads of various beasts, along with several cozy chairs and desks, along with a few bookcases filled to the brim with old texts.
The only thing that really stood out in the room were the twin axes that sat above the heads of the conquered creatures, and they…they…
Axes were important.
Why did he feel this way? As if something were missing?
He shook his head. Best not to think about it. Either way, his father didn’t seem to notice as he looked at him with intense green eyes. Leofric took a puff of the cigar in his hands, not inhaling it, but letting the smoke lazily drift out of his mouth. The end glowing a bright pink as the disgustingly sweet smell hit Cenric’s nose. It seemed he was enjoying his favorite brand, Cannibun Cigars.
“Sit.”
It was an order if Cenric had ever heard one, and he knew that it would be foolish not to obey. Not when he had several siblings who would be eager to get into father’s graces and steal his heirship away from him.
“What is this about father?” Cenric eyes flickered towards the axes on the wall. Why did he feel such a strong pull towards them, he wondered? He was knocked out of his thoughts as his father spoke, the deep growling voice of the man much like the large canines that prowled the snowy wastes near their home.
“You will be leaving for the academy soon.” The man rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I am very proud of you. Taking the initiative, fighting the good fight. It’s what a true Proudhill would do. However, there are a few…complications.”
“Complications?” Cenric was confused by the expression on his father’s face. He had never seen the man so apprehensive before, as if he were spilling out some details that he’d rather be kept hidden.
“Yes. Your grandfather will be accompanying you to the Ascean Knight Academy. I have a few official disputes I have to settle between a few of the lesser nobility.” Leofric ran a hand through his blonde locks, Cenric feeling a familiar sense of disappointment. “I wanted to see you off.” He stressed. “I know it means a lot to you, going off on your own like this.” He seemed to savor the taste of the cigar smoke, his body relaxing slightly as the stress of the day’s work seemed to fly away with the smoke as it slowly passed through his lips. “But as you know, duty calls. The life of a noble isn’t all glamor and riches. It is hard work keeping this place running efficiently and keeping any conflict from breaking out. Which is why I enjoy these small moments we have together.” Another puff left his cigar, the man holding it with his teeth as he let a small tired smile slide across his face. “Even if I won’t be able to see you leave, I’ll still be able to spend some time with you before you depart.”
“Thanks.” Cenric replied, a small smile on his face. “Since we’re spending time together, can I have one of your cigars?”
“When you’re older.” Leofric had an amused gleam in his eyes.
“Dammit. Thought that’d work.” Cenric whispered, but his father seemed to have heard him.
“Watch your mouth.” Leofric replied.
“My apologies.” He wasn’t really sorry, but his father didn’t seem to care as he took another puff of his cigar.
He acknowledged the apology with a nod, his eyes tired. “As I was saying before you decided to try and steal my cigars, there are a few more complications that I want to speak to you about as well. There will be certain issues regarding your cousin.” Leofric said calmly. That caused Cenric to raise an eyebrow? Why would any of the many cousins he had bring about any issues? They all came from good families, all of them of noble blood, or at the very least, they were decently well off. “My sister Aethel’s kid.”
And that explained it. From what Cenric had heard, Leofric had seemed indifferent to his sister’s plight when she had refused to give up the child that had sprung up from her unholy union with that Cantrell fellow when he had laid with her before their wedding. He didn’t know if it was from their childhood friendship or perhaps Aethel’s lingering feelings for the man, but she had refused the abortion, and that had settled her fate in his grandfather’s eyes.
Though it still made Cenric wonder why Leofric seemed to care so little for his sister.
Maybe he was just wanting her spot as the heir to the Proudhill family, or perhaps he simply didn’t care.
Either way, aunt Aethel was seen as the black sheep of the family and rightfully so. Stupid whore.
Cenric gripped the side of his head as he felt an intense pressure, as if something were crawling into his brain and crushing it against his skull. No, something was wrong. Something was very wrong with this and he had to figure it out. He would, no, he wouldn’t call Aethel that name, not after he asked for…someone’s forgiveness. Who was it again?
Leofric continued on, as if Cenric wasn’t having little episode, sparking more suspicion in the teen. What really set Cenric off was his father’s words. His speech was strange, as if he was speaking through water, his voice distorted and alien. “Craeft will be attending as well. I expect you to represent this family in every way possible, including-“
His head felt like it was going to split in two. That was it. Craeft. He had asked Craeft for forgiveness. After…after the attack in Krasnolovka. This…this couldn’t be real. This had happened months ago
He held out his hands as his twin axes appeared with a flash, the red color of the swerdan’s blade practically begging to be decorated in the blood of his enemies.
His father’s eyes widened for a moment, a brief flash of purple filling them.
Cenric snarled as he realized what it was. Some mind game played on him by a powerful lusus. It pained him to do this, even if it wasn’t real, but he charged forward and slashed downward with his right axe. It cleaved into his father’s head, yet there was no blood and gore.
Only a strange purple mist left the wound as the old memory quickly dispersed back into his mind.
The sight that had greeted him as he was brought back to reality disgusted him immensely. He felt the elongated arms of the lusus lift him ever closer towards its gaping maw, the jaw of the creature having distended, distorting its strangely beautiful visage into one of nightmarish horror.
Jagged teeth grew ever closer as it brought him nearer to its mouth, its hot breath pouring onto his face as its eyes looked down on him with the epitome of greed in its gaze. Normally, Cenric would feel fear if he were put in this situation, staring death in the face. Instead, all he felt was white hot rage at the lusus for daring to try and trick him like that, using the memory of his father against him.
His arms were held to his side, the creature stronger than it looked…but it had left his palms exposed.
A foolish error.
His palms lit up like the stars above him as he unleashed the raging hot fire within, coating the creature’s arms in the flames. It screeched in pain, dropping him to the ground as it writhed in the air, trying desperately to put out the flames that threatened to consume it as Cenric pushed more of his magic into the attack.
It was merely delaying the inevitable.
If it sang again, he knew he would be trapped. He eyed his teammates.
“Please, brother help me. Don’t leave me alone with her.” Demora’s eyes watered, a slightly purple sheen on them as tears poured down her face.
“I-I can still fight sir. I am worthy of the Victorovich name, I promise.” Cenric quickly ran towards Fedor, shaking the boy wildly to snap out of it as the monster slowly doused the flames that had damaged its limbs. It breathed slowly, taking in the agony, but soon it would turn its
attention back to them.
And trap him in his memories again.
He couldn’t have that. Cenric refused to become some freak of nature’s meal. The shaking didn’t knock his teammate out of his stupor, so there was only one thing left to do.
He decked him across the face with his armored gauntlet.
It seemed to do the trick, as the boy snapped out of the lusus’s control, his eyes wide with shock. But the shock quickly turned into a realization of what happened, and Fedor’s eyes clouded over with anger. His swerdan appeared in his hand with a burst of light and the crackle of bone. A warhammer appeared, with a handle made of ebony and a head made of ivory. A beautiful instrument of destruction it was.
One the lusus would grow quite intimate with as Fedor charged forward, intent on caving the creature’s skull in.
The squire fought fiercely, as they both knew that once it sang again, it would be over.
Which was why he needed Demora to be snapped out of her stupor. A harsh slap dragged her back to reality, the girl rubbing her cheek before realizing what had happened. It seemed she and Fedor had much in common, as they both seemed enraged. Though while Fedor let his anger surge to the front, hers seemed to simmer behind those cold eyes of hers, the shy girl disappearing before the harsh warrior.
She held out her hand and her swerdan appeared with a flash of light, and Cenric couldn’t help but look at it in astonishment. Most swerdans were cutting or slashing weapons, with ranged ones being considered a rarity. But hers was not even a weapon.
It was a lute, a large stringed instrument several feet in length. Bright red strings stretched across its green body, pieces of grass-like metal growing across the gorgeous instrument. Her hand plucked one of its strings and Cenric could practically feel the magic emanating it.
It may not have been the usual swerdan, but Cenric couldn’t help but thank Miion that it wasn’t.
The lusus breathed in again, its lungs ready to let loose another alluring melody, but Demora’s skilled fingers had already begun to play. Cenric felt his vision narrow as he grit his teeth, the Lusus’s claws dragging across his mind as if to pull him back into the abyss, back into his memories where it could contain him and then devour him at its leisure.
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