Chapter 12: Incident at Bremen

Evil incarnated. A word Astora thought she would never hear to describe someone related to her. In this case, it was her own father. She wanted to delude herself, thinking that perhaps it was just some nonsense the old man made up. She wanted to tell herself that. She wanted to believe that. But what good did it do to deny the truth? Of course, despite what the wise man said, there could still be a chance that it was someone else with the same name. However, the most important piece of information was the date. According to the old man, the events with the Dark Lord dated for more than a thousand years old, approximately fifteen centuries to be exact. Assuming Alator the Dark Lord was indeed her father and has traveled to her world before that time, how was it possible? Then again, this was apparently a parallel universe with magic, a world unknown to Astora. Maybe the flow of time just wasn’t the same between the two worlds? There was still so many questions the girl wanted to ask but it was getting late. Afraid that she would make Alan worried or worse, suspicious of her behavior, Astora said goodbye to the old man and rushed back to the inn.

Upon her return, Astora met an unexpected scene: the inn was full of knights in shiny armors and red cloth adorned with banners showing a red cross on a white background. They were the rest of the Crimson Legion who found her the other day. But didn’t Alan say that they would only come back a few days later? Why were they already here? And why this inn?

Noticing the young girl who seemed to wonder if she has mistakenly stepped into the wrong place, one of the knights approached her. It was the old captain of the platoon, the one who found Astora in the first place.

“I see that you have recovered.” The old knight spoke in a solemn voice. “Good. Very good! A life saved is all we can ask at the end of the day.”

“Hum….thank you, sir knight!” Astora bowed her head.

“I did what my duties required of me, nothing else. You don’t have to thank me. I am sir Johan Caletus, captain of this platon and a member of the Crimson Legion.” The man presented himself.

“I am Astora. Although you said that, but let me thank you properly for saving my life!” Astora looked around. “Is sir Alan not back yet?”

“Ah Alan, he should be over at the mayor’s estate. We suspect that the mayor is colluding with the underground guild in some criminal activities but never found any evidence. Until now that is. We will be moving out shortly so please stay behind at the inn and don’t come out until dawn!” Johan advised.

“Okay I will do just that. But is it wise to tell this to me though?” Astora pondered.

“It is fine. Alan asked you to deliver the pouch, therefore informing us of this act in the first place. It is proof that he deems you trustworthy. If he trusts you, so will I.” Johan said before turning to his men. “Alright men, let’s move out!”

Without anything left to do, Astora ended her day and rested at the inn, unaware of the horrific incident that transpired at Bremen that very night.

* * *

Dozens of crimson knights patrolled the streets of Bremen. But only those who knew the true façade of the Crimson Legion would know the terror it brought. The townsmen quickly retreated back to their home at the passing of the knights, closed their doors and turned off the light. Some went as far as barricading their windows and doors, hoping that the night would pass quickly. What could have happened in this peaceful town that escalated to this kind of situation? The answer lied in the mayor of Bremen itself. He looked like any normal person that could be easily defeated with one knight alone. But their job has told them about the cost of underestimating an enemy. Even while hunting a rabbit, a lion must bear all of his fangs. Such was the teaching of the Crimson Legion.

While the Crimson Legion was surrounding the entire district around the mayor’s home, the person in question, unaware of what was happening, has secluded himself to the secret basement underneath his estate. He simply didn’t care anything but his collection. It made one wonder how on earth he was elected as mayor in the first place. Ignoring the commotion outside, the man was currently examining the most recent addition to his collection. Concealed carefully inside a metal coffin the size of a grown man covered with chains and locks, it seemed that this thing was exceptionally dangerous for the ones who found it to put so many layers of protections. Perhaps it was a cursed artefact of some sort? That would increase its value even more in the eyes of a collector. And if the salesman was to be trusted, this was something dated since the time of the Great War, which referred to the conflict between the Dark Lord and the rest of the world. Depending on the nature of the item itself, it could rival even a national treasure. The mere thought of that possibility filled Geralt with much joy and elation.

Slowly removing the chains, the mayor quickly opened the seal of the metal box. He was told that the item was kept behind a glass wall enhanced by magic. As long as it remained sealed, removing everything else would be fine. Following the instructions, Geralt finally caught the glimpse of the long awaited thing.

“Oh. My. God!” the man’s eyes shined brightly at the sight of the item. “It’s…it’s…beautiful!!!” he uttered. In his mind, there was no mistake. He might be a bit odd but his knowledge about the antiques and history were not to be trifled with. This item in front of him was indeed something from the period of the Great War. Even better, it was something used in the war itself. To find such treasure that somehow survived the ravages of times, the money was truly worth it. No, even double that amount would be worth the pay.

“You are mine! Mine…mine alone!” he uttered while caressing the glass wall. He wanted to touch the thing with his own hands. Ever since he laid his eyes on it, his maniac obsession kept growing until it burst with desire. How could someone be so obsessed with an inanimate object to be driven into insanity? But perhaps it was not entirely his fault but the appearance of the item itself. This particular shape enticed the mortal men who laid eyes upon it and only revealed its true face once the prey was caught.

Behind the transparent glass wall rested a female humanoid shape doll with ashen hair wearing a frilly dress. Its complexion was so real it looked almost like a sleeping beauty waiting for her prince to wake her up. Its beauty was unquestionable, drawing the mayor toward it.

Feeling the warmth breath on the glass, the doll opened its glassy eyes. Its eyes slowly scanned its surroundings before stopping at the only person in front of it. It wanted to move its hand forward but was forcefully pushed back by the magic protecting the glass. The magic seemed to have hurt it but the doll did not show the slightest of emotions. Inside this small place it had, the thing couldn’t do a thing but to accepted its fate.

The cold expression it had was interpreted by Geralt as sadness. From his point of view, the doll only wished to be free, to be loved by one true owner. Madness they said but that was what he believed.

“Do you want to be free?” the mayor asked, his eyes focused on every inch and curve of the doll.

“…..” the doll refused to respond but simply nodded lightly.

“I can get you out. But in return, become mine!” the man said. “Accept me as your master! I can bring you happiness.”

The doll had a curious look but again did not utter a word. Then it nodded, quietly. It reached its two arms widely as if it wanted to be hugged. Accompanied with such beauty, who would refuse the request of such a lady? Even if she was not a real person. Even if her body was cold as iron. Even if her limbs were the only part that looked like a wooden doll, with visible attaching points and openings. Who cared about that?

It was then that the mayor took a decision that would change her life forever. Putting his hand on the glass wall, he repeated the incantation and removed the magic imbued in it, the only that stood between him and the girl, between her imprisonment and her freedom.

“My..master…” the doll quietly spoke, reaching her arms toward Geralt who came forward to accept her love. But then. “…is not you!”

The frail arms of the doll grabbed the mayor by his neck, lifting him above the ground. They looked so fragile before. But those fragile things were now stroking the man with great strength, slowly breaking him.

“My master, where is he?” the doll asked in a cold voice, ignoring the futile struggle Geralt was trying by waving his arms around.

“….arg…arg….arg” the mayor gasped for breath. He could feel his bones in his neck reaching their limits.

*SNAP*

The lifeless body of the mayor crashed to the floor, motionless. He died, foolishly thinking that he could bring love to a doll. He, above anyone else, was supposed to know the danger this thing posed if it got out to the world. Yet, he let himself be charmed by it and lost his life because of that stupidity.

Step by step, the doll descended from its coffin and walked pass the lifeless mayor without a hint of remorse for the person who released it. It didn’t care, all but one thing: to find its true master. “Master Alastor….” The doll mumbled as it exited the dark house.

The moment the door behind it closed, the doll found itself surrounded by the knights of the Crimson Legion, led by old Johan.

“Stop right there! State your identity!” one of the frontal knights shouted.

“You…are not my master.” The doll moved forward.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“Be gone!” Two blades came out of the doll’s arms as she used them to pierce through the thick armor of the crusader. Lifting the heavy man up on air like a meat skewer, the doll threw him back at his comrades. “Step aside! I must find my master.” The doll spoke in a monotone voice.

“GET HER!”

* * *

Back at the inn, Astora could hear a voice coming from downstairs. It belonged to Alan clearly but why did it sound so painful? Curious, the girl redressed herself and came down to see what was going on, only to see the innkeeper attending to an injured Alan.

“Alan, what happened?” the girl rushed to his side. A black dagger was stuck in his right shoulder while the innkeeper was trying to remove it. The moment it was out, the led liquid gushed out like a stream, making the young knight scream in pain.

“Argg….*heavy breathing* I screwed up. Those guys from the underground guild found out that I was tailing them…Arg…I was lucky to have managed to escape.” Alan agonized.

“Please don’t talk! A healer is coming right away.” The innkeeper said after bandaging the wounds. “You are lucky that they didn’t use that poison.”

“Yeah….They must considered this a small job and didn’t expect me to follow them….” Alan gasped. “The captain, where is he? Did he come back? I have to report this to the captain.”

“He is already over at the mayor’s house.” Said Astora.

“Damn it. I need to find him.” Alan tried to get up but the pain kept him from forcing himself. The wound has opened up again.

“Lay down, Alan!” a stern voice ordered the young man. It was Johan.

“Captain!” Alan uttered and tried to get up to salute him.

“Stand down Alan! You are not doing anyone else a favor here.”

“Sir, if I may ask, did something happen? I thought you were at the mayor’s house. Did we capture him?” asked Alan while a healer cast their magic on him.

“The mayor is dead.” The captain spoke in an angry voice.

“What?” Both Alan and Astora shouted. “How did that happen?”

“He was killed by….something.”

“Something? What do you mean?” asked Astora.

“I don’t know what it is. It looks like a young female human but hides many weapons inside its body. It is almost like a marionette or a doll specialized in combat. Like some sort of automated weapon. But it is strong, very strong. We lost four men tonight because of it and still couldn’t capture it.” The captain recalled.

“A combat doll?” Alan mumbled. “Do you think it is the Empire?”

“I don’t believe so. I have seen the combat doll of the Empire and none came close to the thing I saw tonight. Not only are they different in term of power, the doll I saw was wearing white dress and her skin looks so real, unlike the mechanical dolls of the Empire.” Johan analyzed. “So no I don’t believe it is from the Empire. Considering what we found in Geralt’s house and the incident with the Crows, I believe there is a high chance that it is an artefact of the Dark Age, possibly a weapon of the Great War.”

“A weapon of the Great War? It would make sense if that is the case. Geralt tried to buy this as an artefact from the underground guild but was unfortunately killed by it. It is also possible that the Crows planned this to take the money.” Alan proposed.

“I doubt it. If they could control something like that, they wouldn’t want to risk being exposed this easily. Most likely, they cannot control it and tried to sell it at low price in hope of getting something from it. Well at least that is my theory.

But our main focus now should not be the guild but the doll. I fear that if that thing is let to roam free in the world, it would only bring more death and destruction wherever it goes. It must be stopped!”

“But what exactly is it?” the girl asked.

“There is one thing in my mind that fits its description. Back when I was at the Archives of the Circle of Magi, I found something that caught my interest. It was about the mechanical soldier that the Dark Lord used during the Great War. Wearing white dress and possessing exceptional beauty, these soldiers, or rather dolls, are so powerful each could take on a small army by itself.

But after the Dark Lord’s defeat, the dolls lost their master. Without anyone to command them, they fell into slumber. Because they were too dangerous, the people back then decided to destroy all of them to make sure that they would never wake up again.

But I guess that it is impossible to find every single last one of them and a few managed to survive until today.” Said Johan.

Again, something related to the Dark Lord. And like the previous one, it wasn’t something good. Everyone seemed to be so afraid of this Dark Lord, the person who was likely Astora’s father. The girl stayed silent, unable to say anything.

Noticing the fidgeting girl, Johan quickly recused himself. “My apologies, we seem to have disturbed your rest. Please rest assured that we will protect this town, yourself included!”

Then a knight rushed in. “Sir, we found her. In the eastern outskirts of the town!”

“I am coming right away.” Johan stood up and followed the knight.

“Sir, I am coming too.” Alan spoke.

“No, you are injured. In this state, you will only be a liability to the rest of the platoon. Stay here and rest!”

“But sir!”

“That is an order, Alan!”

“….yes sir!”

Johan left without looking back. Despite the loud voice, what he said stood correct. You can’t win a fight with just willpower. Bringing an injured man would only cause more problems than it could fix. Astore knew that. The issue was how to explain that to Alan. But to her surprise, the young knight did not seem so disheartened. He accepted it quite nonchalantly, compared to his enthusiasm before. The girl could still not seem to fully understand this man or his way of thinking.

After yet another eventful day, Astora retreated back to her bed. The next morning, she intended to go back to see the old man for more questions. By early morning, the news about the death of the mayor has also spread across the town. He was known to be an odd but harmless man, not exactly loved but liked by the common folk for his simply lifestyle. So his death came as a surprise to anyone. Some said he was murdered by a monster. Others said he killed himself. It looked like the knight did manage to contain some truth about the whole incident to avoid panic. Also, Alan was missing. It was highly possible that he followed captain Johan to find the doll. By herself, Astora departed and went back to the district she visited the day before.

But to her surprise, the old man has passed away. Supposedly, he died just a moment after she left the day before but a smile on his face, as if his burdens have somehow been lifted. There were still so many questions the girl wanted to ask, so many things she wished to learn about. Alas, that hope has been shattered. A part of the girl wondered if it was because of her that he died. If he hasn’t met the old man, maybe he would still live today. But it seemed that her thinking was wrong. Before he died, the old man has asked the woman who took care of him to give Astora a folded piece of paper. It was apparently his last will to the girl.

In the message, he thanked Astora for having listened to his final words. All these years, his insanity has been eating him away, slowly and painfully. But when he met the girl, it somehow soothed him of his pain. Perhaps there was something special about Astora that even the old man himself couldn’t understand why. While he was sorry that he could not help her in her quest, the old man did reveal an important clue that could potentially help Astora.

“Follow the trails of the Mad King!”

“The Mad King?” Astora asked herself.

“The name sounds ominous though…” Grimora commented. “I don’t think we should throw around that name casually.”

“Yeah….let’s not do that.”

“Or we can find another old insane old man and hope that he will know something about this Mad King….” Grimora noticed the disappointed look of his mistress. “Or something….else…I don’t know.”

“Well, whatever we want to find, I think we should leave the town. It doesn’t look like it has anything more interesting.” Astora said.

“I share your opinion, mistress.”

“But…..”

“What is wrong, mistress?”

“The whole incident with the mayor’s death, it is apparently something related to the Dark Lord. I am thinking of finding this doll and ask her about it.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? She is a freaking killing machine. I doubt she would even listen to us.” Shouted Grimora.

“We have to try. Remember that our objective is also to become stronger. If we keep running away, we won’t ever get better.” Astora affirmed.

“I know but…can’t we start with something…I don’t know…a bit less dangerous?” Grimora pled.

“You are underestimating yourself. We stood our toes against the Gods. While we did run away, I think we will do just fine here.”

“I hope so…I have a bad feeling about this world though…The mana density is off the charge in this place. That means that the people here can be much stronger for all we know it. Like that white knight we saw.” Grimora said.

“Okay okay. I will be careful.”

Without wasting any time further, Astora headed out to the woods outside of town. It was where the doll was last seen and also where Johan has led his men to. Confidant in the abilities she possessed but nevertheless cautious of her surroundings, the girl arrived at the said location. Remains of a violent struggle were scattered all around. Fallen trees lied charcoaled, rocks smashed into pieces, and blood. The few armors pieces and banners suggested that the Crimson Legion have passed through her and fought something, probably the doll. Among the pieces, a mechanical arm was found with spark of electricity still setting off.

“This is…a robot’s arm.” Said Astora upon analyzing the arm.

“A robot?” asked Grimora.

“Yeah, the automatons. Back in my world, we used them for a lot of things, from goods manufacturing to tactical warfare. But they require a very high level of technology, something I don’t believe this world has. And if this belongs to the doll, it must have existed for more than a thousand years.” Astora touched the glossy material the arm was made of. “Perfect craftmanship! Whoever did this must be exceptionally skilled.”

“You sure know a lot about these robot things.” Grimroa spoke.

“Nah, I just read a lot. I saw a few in the facility I was kept in but never got to examine one this close.”

“Hey, why not use your ability on it? See if there is any info on it.”

“Good idea! Psychometry activated!” Astora’s red and blue eyes glowed slightly as they pierced into the memories the arm contained.

Visions of an army of thousands, no, hundreds of thousands women in white dress and ashen hair could be seen. Standing in rows in perfect alignments, these women were the mechanical soldiers, the dolls. So there used to be a lot of them.

Above all, the dolls, in front of the dolls, a figure sitting on an iron throne could be seen wearing a crown. The quality of the vision was quite bad, possibly because this was only a part of the doll. Astora could not see the face of the person in question clearly but she could make out a silver hair individual. And most important their eyes: one blue and one red, just like hers. With a single word from the person, the dolls’ army began their attack.

The vision disappeared forcefully. Breathing heavily, Astora tried to catch her breath. This feeling, there was no doubt. The person she saw in the vision was the Dark Lord Alastor and…her father. The striking similarity could not be refuted.

“Are you okay, mistress?” Grimora asked out of concern.

“Yeah…I am fine. Let’s just move on!”

Keeping her emotions in check, Astora put away the robotic arm in a bag she recently acquired and followed the trails, delving even deeper into the woods. But the girl was not a hunter. Or perhaps her mind was not exactly clear after that strange vision. After a while, she lost track of the trail and went into another direction, bypassing the battle completely. When she finally realized that she was lost, Astora could feel her legs abandoning her. Years of confinement really did a tow on her stamina. Unable to move on, she decided to take a short rest under a large tree.

The air in the forest was truly refreshing. The vegetation has been let to grown freely, covering every inch of the soil with wild grass and tall trees. The calm atmosphere allowed Astora times to reflect on her recent discoveries. What would she do now that she learnt about her origin, being the daughter of the Dark Lord? Revenge? Against who? More than a thousand years have already passed. Those who defeated him back then probably perished and returned to dust long ago. And furthermore, why revenge? If he truly was such an evil man, Astora would not want to be known as his daughter. Perhaps he deserved it. Her only problem was that her mother’s description of him was so different from what the people here told her. Maybe it was love that blinded her mother. But was that really all? History was always written the winners. Could it be possible that there was some hidden truth behind this legend? She must continue her search, to find out the truth.

Sounds of heavy footsteps could be heard approaching her location. Astora immediately stood on her toes and prepared herself. It could be a beast, a monster or something. Then, from the bushes, a figure walked out, heavily wounded.

Ashen hair in a white clothing from head to toes, the young woman who just came out of the bushes stared at the stunned Astora. One of her arms has been cut off and the remaining shoulder was gushing out electric sparks. The left part of the face has been smashed with the left eye missing, revealing circuits and cables behind that beautiful face. The cloths were torn and burnt, clearly the results of a sword and fire magic.

The doll has made itself appeared and it was in a pitiful state. Despite its inhuman strength, a single doll was just no match for a platoon of dozen of crusaders. But the doll didn’t demonstrate any sign of malice. It just wanted to get out of here, searching for something no one but itself would know. Dragging its leg on the ground, the broken doll walked toward Astora.

From one side, Astora wanted to defend herself but the doll has not attacked her so far. It was only approaching. Should she destroy it? But she came all this way just to talk to it. Killing the doll now would only make this entire trip pointless.

From the other side, the doll’ sensory vision has been severely damaged. Its scanner was completely broken, leaving only a very bad visual sense with its remaining eye. The processors have also been affected, making its logical circuit malfunction. To the doll at its current state, what it saw in front of it was something entirely different from reality.

“Master…Al..ast..or…” the doll spoke in a broken voice. It reached out his remaining arm toward the girl.

“What?” Astora uttered.

“Please for..give me…Please for…give me!” the doll spoke.

“…..” Astora tried to hold back her emotions rising at the sight of this pitiful machine.

It was at that moment that the remaining eye of the doll broke down, removing every last visual. With its sight gone, the doll turned around in panic and called out for her master. “Lord Alastor, where are you? Are you there? Please answer me!”

“I..am here.” Astora clutched the doll’s frail hand gently.

“Oh…master Alastor!” the doll fell to her knees, holding the hand dearly. The metal pieces that kept her go on so far began to fall apart. One by one they broke and fell to the ground. “Did…I do good? Was I…useful?”

‘Does the doll mistake you as the Dark Lord?’ Grimora asked telepathically.

‘I think so….’ Astora answered.

Realizing that the thing was at its end, Astora wished to comfort its final moment. The doll might have committed murders but in the end, she was a relic of the past and did not deserve this kind of treatment. The girl knew naught about how deeply the people in this world resented the Dark Lord and his kinds but to her, granting the doll amenity was the right thing. She hugged the pitiful creature.

“Yes…you did good.” Astora spoke in a soothing tone.

“Thank you, master!” the doll spoke in a broken tone. “I…am sorry… for what I did.”

“It is okay.” Said Astora.

Using her only hand, the doll tore away his cloth. Embedded on its chest lied a dark crystal that emanated a sinister aura. Then it ripped its chest open and took the crystal in its hand, shocking Astora.

“What are you doing???” the girl asked in awe.

“This….is my legacy. Because of this…I have committed a sin against you…Please…take it!” the doll pled while holding the dark crystal.

“You….this is….” Astora hesitated. She only intended to comfort the doll but she didn’t expect it would turn out like this. “I…”

“Please…remember my name!”

“i…I will!” Astora held the girl’s hand closely. “I will.”

“I…am Stella, your…eternal servant…zz…z”

The light in its eyes vanished. The doll has ceased to function. Holding the crystal in her hands, Astora let out a drop of tears onto the doll’s soft cheek. Gently, she swiped her hand in front of her face to close doll’s eyes. It was the first time she met this doll but it felt as if they were long time friends. There was so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things she wished to talk about. But this would have to do for now.