“Why am I being held?” a man wearing a heavy cloak protested, forced to kneel by those nearby.
Two weapons of gleaming white bone pointed at his neck, wielded by towering pale-skinned elves. They bore a ck sash on their shoulder disying a sunburst, with the rays of its sun reced by the golden snake of House Vasquer. They did not answer him, and the people passing through the gate to ckgard were held up by several soldiers as the conflict was dealt with. The refugees watched the situationrgely in concern for their own safety.
The man protested and squirmed, but the des wielded by the Veidimen were as immovable as a mountain. Soon enough, a new party of knights arrived. Leading them was a golden-armored knight with a long ck braid descending from the back of his helmet, and the people muttered his name—Prince Orion, the vicemander of the king’s royal guard.
Prince Orion escorted a tall woman with elegant bearing, wearing the ck and gold of her husband’s kingdom. People recognized her, too, perhaps even more so than the knight. She was the queen regent, Anneliese. Some of the more reverential refugees knelt to her, but she single-mindedly walked to the man.
The queen regent sized the man up with her amber eyes, then nodded. “Well done. He’s a spy.”
Hearing those words, both the Veidimen and the man deemed spy moved at the same time. He cast a B-rank spell, disentangling himself from them, then called upon the Blessing of Supersession. His being was vested with the power offered by Erlebnis, and he called upon high-caliber magic which he directed toward the queen.
Prince Orion stepped forth to defend the queen regent with a shield that seemed to be made of a dragon’s skull, but she moved past him. She effortlessly contained the countless spells with a single ward. Some of the jewelry she wore resonated with divine power and strengthened her magic. He changed targets from her to the crowd, yet she reacted faster, containing him in a sphere of warding magic.
Isted and neutralized, the spy grit his teeth and cast a spell with fear in his eyes. His body shifted and contorted, and then exploded into spikes of gruesome blood that propelled outward with rming speed. Queen Anneliese’s ward was stronger, though. It did not show even a crack. She turned away from the sight with disappointment in her eyes, but then faced the crowd.
“The trouble is over, my people.” Her eyes slowly scanned the crowd, as if looking into the heart of each of them. “You will be in ckgard soon. People like that can never get past this checkpoint.” She looked at the royal guard. “As I said, you did well. Ensure no one will be hurt.”
The guards knelt. “Yes, Your Highness.”
With a single nod, she left them all, exiting the checkpoint. Orion followed right after her, watching carefully.
Princess Elenore’s voice entered Anneliese’s head, carried by the blessing of the goddess of connections, Lira. “Is it done?”
Anneliese responded, “It was. He chose death like all the rest. Better he chose it when I came rather than when he was suspected, but our luck can onlyst so long. My magic is enhanced by the divine artifacts we stole from Erlebnis’ vault, but it strains against their blood magic.”
“Argrave’s Domain of Order persists, protecting this ce. We would know at once if any who entered ckgard had hostile intent,” Elenore reminded her.
“Certainly,” Anneliese acknowledged. “Still, I cannot fathom where Erlebnis gets this many people willing to die for him…”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care to know,” Elenore answered. “Even if we did manage to capture one of them alive, I doubt they’d yield anything useful. Erlebnis likes keeping knowledge, not giving it to his underlings. We should be thankful that your blessing of Truesight lets us spot them. It’s turning out to be rather invaluable, even among all of our abilities.”
Anneliese responded only, “Have you forgotten how we speak through your blessing right now?”
“Of course not,” said Elenore. “Come back to the parliamentary hall. Durran will be returning soon, and I want everyone present to receive the dwarven envoy.”
“Everyone except Argrave,” Anneliese answered begrudgingly. “See you in a bit.”
“It isn’t too much longer, now, until he returns,” Elenore said consolingly. “Chin up, Anneliese.”N?v(el)B\\jnn
Their connection faded, and Anneliese looked around the growing city of ckgard. This ce was bing titanic as more and more people filled it. Orderly buildings of ck stone, long fields and orchards of bountiful crops, roaming livestock feeding on ground unpolluted by magic… in perhaps a year, this meadow valley had be a rival to the grandest cities on the continent. But it was put to test more and more by the day. The enemies that they had made probed its defenses day and night.
And looming behind it all was the arrival of distant travelers. They came not from the north, nor the south, nor from Veiden. They came far overseas from other nations, bearing strange titles, strange weaponry, and strange customs. The conflict for the fate of the world had begun, and like a frog slowly boiled, they hardly realized it until it was toote.
But Vasquer was not alone in this changed world. They had divine allies of their own—like Lira, Yinther, or Law. There was Rook and Raen, divine brothers, Almazora and Veid, one a goddess of magic and the other a goddess of the Veidimen. Their alliance was not meager… and already, they’d drawn eyes by robbing Erlebnis, god of knowledge.
The fruits of that heist had already been realized in the divine artifacts wrested away. But soon, another harvest would be ready. Namely, knowledge of the cmity Gerechtigkeit, of the cycle of judgment… and possibly, just possibly, putting an end to this eternity of struggle.
Anneliese stepped up to the entrance of ckgard’s parliamentary hall. Mnie stood there, and waved at Anneliese. The red-headed countess stepped up with her mercenary swagger, carrying a ck executioner’s de on her shoulder.
“Hey. The divine envoys are ready to join you whenever,” Mnie exined, a faint smile about her scarred face. “We’re supposed to ‘wow’ the dwarves, right? I think this’ll do the trick…”
Anneliese nodded seriously. “I should hope so. Let me channel Argrave as best I can, I suppose…”
#####
“What is Anne wearing?” Argrave asked Elenore, watching the Alchemist as he worked.
The Alchemist—a towering, twenty-foot-tall monstrosity that could contort his body every which way he desired—had Argrave’s chest split open, many of his organs sprawled out across the table next to him. The Alchemist worked at extracting a malignant-looking ck magic thread from Argrave’s body piece by piece. They were in the process of removing the Blessing of Supersession from him without harming the rest of his body. This had been going on for a month by this point, and the end still seemed far away.
“You want to know what Anneliese is wearing?” Elenore repeated in Argrave’s head. “Are you really asking your sister for a visual image? I’m not giving you material.”
Argrave sighed. “You’re the weird one right now. My chest is split open, and I’m trying to help even still… well, it doesn’t matter. Give her my best. I’m going to get back to it.”
Argrave watched the Alchemist as he worked. On Earth, he’d often heard about solitary confinement being torture. This was rather like solitary confinement with a phone, and front-row seats to an extremely gruesome operating theater that had daily invasive procedures… so yes, it was torture.
Within a ck room without deviations, no view of the sky, and nothing to keep himpany except documents and his surgeon… life had be a very dull and stagnant experience. And hearing of what had happened in the month that he’d been absent had only been more difficult. It was like having someone summarize every episode of a show instead of seeing it. In a word—frustrating.
If the news he’d heard hadn’t beenrgely good, perhaps he would have lost his mind.
While he had been gone, they distributed the loot from the heist of Erlebnis’ vault. That had been a tremendous boon to their fighting power. Durran’s retinue of wyvern riders had grown a reputation after their journeys around Vasquer, ying lesser gods. Apparently, Anneliese was strong enough to blockmon S-rank spells with A-rank wards—something that should’ve been an impossibility,rgely. And their backing for the heist, their divine allies, had beenrgely pleased with the result.
That wasn’t even mentioning Argrave’s royal guard of Veidimen—or snow elves, as they were known by humans. They had always been an elite fighting force, yet with divine artifacts as equipment they had a retinue of well-trained knights about as strong as Orion. It was a monstrous boon to their fighting strength, and kept ckgard the safest city in Vasquer.
On top of that, Almazora and Rook had been promised mortal champions. They’d found them—for Rook, the recipient was Stain, formerly known as Vdrien of Jast. He was the thief, and protagonist of Heroes of Berendar, that Argrave had dealt with a year and some months ago. As for Almazora, goddess of magic… despite Argrave’s rmendation of Nikoletta, she chose Artur, master of the Hall of Enchantment.
Almazora’s choice of mortal champion had been as much a shock to Argrave as it had been everyone else. Formerly a Magister of the Order of the Gray Owl, he’d left the Order after experiencing some mockery regarding his dwarfism. With the royal family’s support he founded the Hall of Enchantment, and had been working to restore the enchantment methods of the ancient elven empire.
And on that front, he’d been seeding splendidly. Not only had they resurrected the dead art of dwarven metalworking, which used deep earth metals and spirits to forge des that could cut through rock or resist magic, but Artur had rediscovered countless elven enchantments. Whether on armor or weapons, he was enhancing their forces with mass-production of incredibly potent equipment. By this point, their army was an equal to any that a god might have. From the sound of it, Argrave would be confident sending them against Kirel Qircassia’s force that they’d fought in the Bloodwoods.
But as the days passed ever onward, it stood to reason that Argrave would not have to guess any longer. Elenore had delivered reports of seeing foreignersnd strange square ships on the shores of the Bloodwoods and northeastern Vasquer. They hadn’t lingered long, but what few sightings came suggested they woremer armor and had single-sided des. Argrave knew them well—the people of the continent far to the northeast, inspired by the medieval empires of East Asia on Earth.
If what Argrave knew held true, they were a diverse collection of peoples presently united by the Great Chu. He didn’t fully trust that knowledge remained so, but the Chu was a nation no less formidable than Vasquer—and Argrave only thought he was their equal because they’d gained many divine artifacts after robbing Erlebnis.
Regardless, the Chu weren’t the only people soon toe to Vasquer. There would be others—some woulde at the behest of the divine, and others woulde as their allies. But they woulde, both because Argrave had made a great many enemies and because this continent was to be the site where Gerechtigkeit descended. It was Argrave’s duty as king to stand up to those people.
And behind it all, another matter lurked. They had gone into Erlebnis’ vault to acquire all the knowledge about Gerechtigkeit they possibly could. The Alchemist held all that knowledge, and with Argrave’s vague awareness of the future, they’d been steadily concocting a n of attack—not against Gerechtigkeit, but against the cycle of judging the world that he heralded. The things that they had learned had been staggering, and Argrave had deep and serious theoretical discussions about how, precisely, they might end this all.
But to learn how to end the cycle of judgment… they might need to learn how it began. Argrave had arranged a meeting with Sataistador, the first god of war. He wasn’t sure whether it was to be a battle or a cordial conversation, but he did know that the god imed to take part in the first cycle of judgment.
Reminded of thating meeting, Argrave asked, “Hey. Pour some of House Quadreign’s fire on me, again.”
“No,” said the Alchemist simply. “I’m busy.”
Argrave sighed, setting his table back down on the table. In his right hand, he practiced constructing magic matrixes just as Tower Master Castro had taught him. If a battle was toe… well, he’d been training his magic for a month, without stopping, without sleeping. And whether they exchanged words or fists… he’d get what he wanted out of Sataistador. Only a week or so remained…