We are to be kept secret. Not our decision, but that of the Church and the Order. Wise perhaps, given our history. Though, what do the people even remember of us? Would time not have dulled the Realm’s memory as it did ours? And if their hearts are filled with fear, do they remember why?

ARC 5 - PARACLETE

CHAPTER 3 - ART OF WAR

Castle Leofwine was intimidating in its beauty. Much like the Citadel, it had been build of beautiful white stone, most of the blocks comprising the main structure large enough that half a dozen men might not be able to lift one. Where the Citadel was surrounded by training grounds and other such unsightly structures, inside the castle walls the grounds looked to have been pulled from a painting. Not a blade of grass was out of place and the flowers looked as though they might bloom year-round, despite the fact that no more than three seasons ago a healthy layer of snow covered the ground.

Yes, Castle Leofwine was a sight to behold, even when it was pouring rain. Raegn trudged along, praying that his cloak would keep the water from reaching the armor beneath. It wasn’t that the metal itself needed to be kept dry, but it certainly wasn’t going to absorb any of the moisture and keep it off him. The last thing he wanted was for the rain to slowly seep into his underlayers; his already soaked socks were bad enough. If any more of him got soggy he might be mistaken for laundry and taken away by the castle’s staff.

Nora, Highlord Orgeron, and High Justicar Aldway, however, gave no indication they bore any significant discomfort. The two large men were at the front of their small formation with Raegn and Nora trailing, the four of them, in turn, tailing a single steward who had come to gather them at the castle's gate. Immediately upon passing through the main entry an army of servants descended upon them like vultures to a corpse. Their wet cloaks were taken, towels flung about as they dried face, hair, and armor alike, and their boots wiped clean. As quickly as they had come, the servants disappeared, leaving only the four members of the Order and their escort who had already begun to venture further into the castle.

The interior, much like what they had already passed through, was immaculate. The floor of the hall was covered by an impossibly long red rug with gold at the edges and the sconces spaced along the walls failed to light a ceiling far above their heads. Raegn came to realize the need for removing the mud from their footwear. The halls of Bastion’s keep had been swept every so often, but even then dirt lingered in the cracks of the stone and the crevices of the wooden floors. There was seemingly no room for such an eyesore here. Dirtying a few rags at the entry of every visitor was easier than scrubbing, especially when they walking on such an intricately woven rug.

At the very least, the four of them fit in on the surface. They’d chosen, or in the case of Raegn and Nora, been ordered, to wear their ceremonial armor. When the large doors of the throne room were pulled open their ornate white plate shone like four stars entering the flame-lit room. Kennard Melrose, lord of Elysium and King of all Elysia, sat at the back in a large throne sculpted of stone inlaid with gold that wound its way like liquid dripping down into a pool at the base. He wore brown trousers and a deep burgundy tunic with golden strands of rope arcing from his shoulder towards the shining buttons that lined his chest and, of course, a crown of matching gold atop his head.

The King rose as the members of the Order entered and, rather than allow them to fully approach his throne, began to descend its steps. The Highlord gave a staying lift of his hand and continued forward alone. They met, arguably the two most powerful men in all the Realm and, despite the pillars in the throne room reaching the ceiling high above, the two seemed to tower above all else.

Did the Highlord carry that much respect, Raegn wondered, that a King would not ask of him to kneel or bow? Or perhaps the two are simply friends?

Any words exchanged were soft enough that Raegn could not hear. Only when Dulius motioned for them to follow did he and Nora dare approach, and even then they stayed behind Cenric. This was to be a meeting where maintaining appearances was of great import - or so Cenric had told them. They certainly wouldn’t have been invited into the King’s hall for idle chatter. In fact, Raegn wasn’t sure the King had actually invited him or Nora at all. They were liable to be present solely to demonstrate that the Highlord had the Realm's strongest force at his beck and call. Posturing is what they called it if he remembered Ulrich’s lessons correctly, and it was something done often in the world that nobles lived in. Raegn had always hated learning about royal lineages. Who cared who married who? Their petty familial politics had spilled more than enough blood throughout history when there were far more important things worth fighting for.

The group passed through a small opening in the side of the throne room, small being a relative term as the passageway was easily wide enough for four men standing abreast, but was dwarfed by the grandiose scale of the throne room itself. In this adjacent area, a portion of that theme continued, mainly in the size of the windows that made up most of the far wall. What had to be one hundred panes of glass were fashioned together, offering a view out over the gardens, though Raegn could hardly make out the wall at their edge with how hard the rain was coming down. The rest of the room was warmly decorated with rugs, a large fireplace to stave the chill the massive window let in, and several animal trophies upon the walls. A sitting room, perhaps, or at least one to entertain guests in some amount of comfort, he supposed.

A girl only a few years Raegn and Nora’s younger, stirred from one of the large chairs set up in front of the window. The King approached her, giving her a delicate kiss upon a tender cheek, before taking a chair at the head of the group, the window as his backdrop.

“Highlord Orgeron, my daughter, Victoria,” the King said with a gesture of his hand in the direction of the girl.

She gave a delicate curtsy so precise it must have been practiced a thousand times. Her blonde locks fell in loose curls down to her shoulders and her eyes shone as bright blue as the sky could ever hope to be. An ideal Elysian, and not exactly a spitting image of her father’s mop of mousey-blonde hair. Her face was cute, in a frail sort of way. Certainly the hardest she might have ever worked was lifting a book, for her arms were so slender they verged on frail as they poked out of a dress made of several shades of off-white. She was every bit a dove, beautiful to look at, an embodiment of peace, and terribly fragile.

“…and Commander of my Justicar,” Raegn heard the Highlord say. He pulled his attention away from the princess and watched Cenric give a stiff bow. Clearly, it was a motion the large man was not accustomed to making often.

“And these two are the ones you’ve brought for me?” the King asked.

Brought for him? Raegn tried to judge Nora’s reaction, but she remained motionless, her face hidden behind her mask.

“Yes,” Dulius answered, “though your messenger failed to relay the specifics of your request, so I simply brought two of my best.”

“Mmm,” the King hummed. His eyes flicked over to his daughter who had retaken her seat and laid her hands lightly in her lap. She gave the shallowest of nods. The King’s eyes returned to the two Justicar, studying them the same as someone might pick a new horse. “Your names?”

“Nora Caloman and Raegn Edelgard,” Cenric answered for them. They gave a unified bow. The thought of Nora curtsying brought a smile, but it wasn’t quite amusing enough to actually make him chuckle. Especially not in front of a King that had them under an unbroken gaze.

“Edelgard? The same family that leads the farlings?”

Raegn’s smile flipped into a frown. He hated studying noble lineages, but an actual royal would’ve learned them all before they’d turned ten. Of course the King of Elysia would recognize his bloodline, the man ruled it! Raegn glanced in Dulius’s direction, but the Highlord’s tired face was already looking back at him, waiting. If it was going to be a problem, why would the Highlord have brought him? If whatever conversation was supposed to happen broke down, he certainly didn’t want to be to blame.

Well…fuck.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Raegn answered, hesitantly. “I am the son of Aerich, who fell with Bastion. My uncle still rules in Bulwark, as far as I am aware.”

“Yes, yes, he does. Very interesting that you end up here…” the King trailed off as if a separate thought had taken him, then snapped back into the present. “All of you, sit, please,” he said, nodding to the other chairs and couches set up in a wide circle.

The moment the back of their legs touched the embroidered seats, servants descended upon them once again, their arms bearing trays of various drinks of hot tea and ciders and plates full of biscuits. Raegn politely declined all of the offerings, the same as Nora. How were they supposed to eat and drink with their masks on? He did note, however, that both Cenric and Dulius had chosen the tea. The cups almost looked like a set made for a child in their large hands. The princess, too, had taken a cup and was quietly sipping away, a biscuit drizzled in honey balanced precariously on the small saucer that came with her drink.

King Melrose watched his guests enjoy the first sip, then resumed where he had left off before the liquid could have hit their stomachs.

“Perhaps the two of you having noble bloodlines will be of benefit for what I have to ask of you,” he said. There must have been the slightest shift in Nora’s posture, because his attention turned to her and he offered a warm smile. A bit too warm, if Raegn were to judge it whole-heartedly. Was he faking?

“Oh come, Lady Caloman,” the King assured her. “Wealth is not the only way to reach the noble class. In my eyes, merit carries the same weight as gold. Your bloodline is as rich in service as any of those that grace my court.”

A quiet, “Thank you, Your Grace,” and a small bow of her head was all she offered in return.

“Dulius, I understand the reasoning behind the masks, but there is no justice to issue here,” the King said from behind a faint frown. “This is simply a conversation. Might they remove them?”

Raegn watched as the Highlord blinked slowly, then took another slow sip of his tea. After what seemed an eternity and an unwise choice in making the King wait, Dulius looked at them both and nodded. Raegn made sure Nora began the simple process of pulling down her hood and sliding her mask free before he did the same. Once it was free of his face he ran a gloved hand through his hair to pull a few tickling strands from his forehead and then thoroughly regretted not taking one of the biscuits now that he had the ability to eat. Cenric had come to inform them of the afternoon meeting and stolen their chance to have a midday meal and now Raegn’s stomach was on the verge of growling louder than the rain pelting against the window. The pastry the princess held was the perfect golden brown and the honey clung to it in a way that only the sweetest of drizzles could. Just above the biscuit though, he realized the eyes of the princess were on him, a firm glare weighing on her brow. He hurriedly put his attention to Dulius, then back to the King. Hopefully she hadn’t taken any offense, though he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He prayed even more than no one else had taken notice. He’d been looking at the biscuit! It was mere coincidence that she’d been holding the saucer up out of her lap and before her chest!

“I have a problem,” the King said and Raegn’s heart beat faster. He’d probably be whipped for eyeing the princess like that. Oh, curse his younger self for ignoring the few lessons in royal customs that Ulrich had ever given him! “One that I believe the two of you are best suited to solve,” King Melrose continued.

Not him? He wasn’t the problem? Raegn’s eyes darted first to Dulius, then to Cenric, but the two of them were still waiting on the King’s next word. He took the most cautious of looks in the princess’s direction, pretending to study the trophy of a bear on the wall so as not to put his eyes directly on her. She was still focused in his direction, but it seemed like Nora had some of her attention. A relief.

“Are you aware of the current state of political affairs?” the King asked, his attention fully on the two Justicar as well.

Raegn gulped and wished Dulius had denied the request for them to remove their masks. If staring at the princess’s cleavage hadn’t caught any ire, his ignorance certainly would. No, was his answer. A simple one, but so hard to say - and admit - when it meant appearing blind to the effort of leading an entire kingdom.

“In general terms, to the south, the Kheeralid Khanate fell into disarray over a decade ago when most of their leading Khans were assassinated,” Nora answered and Raegn began to nod along, immensely thankful for her initiative and studious nature. “The rest have been warring internally ever since. Shaktika tried to claim some of the Khanate's most western territory for itself, but strict tariffs and other sanctions from Elysia have kept them stalled. In turn, however, the Shaktikans have taken to raiding Elysian caravans on the western border.”

The room was silent for a time and King Melrose eyed Nora with something that might have resembled a bit of pride.

“Yes, well summarized,” the King said after a sharp sniff. “I have, to the best of my ability, prevented all-out war, both between Shaktika and the Khanate, and with us. Now, however, the board has shifted.” King Melrose lifted himself from his chair and stood with his arms clasped behind his back, facing out the massive window and watching thousands of raindrops plunge to their demise amidst his garden. “It has been my dream to reunite the Realm into a single kingdom. It is a dream I share with my late father and his father before him. All before me have failed, yet none of them had the threat that lays before us now.”

The King turned and placed his hands atop the back of his chair.

“If humanity is to face the darkness once more, we must do it as one.”

A noble dream, Raegn thought, though one easily desirable when imagined by the one who would be at the head of such a kingdom. Still, he didn't disagree. He and Ulrich had debated on more than one occasion just how much better the Realm had fared because of its unity during the Void War. The Heaven’s had saved them, sure, but how much of the world would have been left if humanity’s armies hadn’t rallied under a single banner? The more pressing question, he supposed, was how he and Nora were expected to solve a problem that generations of kings had failed to.

The Highlord’s voice was raspy and the last word came out almost as if it were a cough, but Raegn was still glad it had been someone of higher authority than he posing the inquiry.

“What are you asking of the Order?”

“Shaktika is of concern to me,” King Melrose informed them and ignoring the Highlord's discomfort. “What used to be reluctance and annoyance with Elysia is now lingering hatred. It…festers. Keeping them out of the Khanate has burned any bridges I may have once had with them. And then there are the laws they have implemented in the last decade,” he added with a frustrated sigh. “I take issue with it all, yet they will still be needed in the days to come. Therefore, I have proposed a marriage between my Victoria and Tirin Tsurat, the eldest son of the Shaktikan Emperor. With our families joined I will have all the inroads I need to ensure the Shaktikans stay in line and answer the call when it is given.”

“Your Grace, if I may,” Dulius said. He cleared his throat some, but continued without waiting for the King to give him any sort of acknowledgment. “The Void is the Order’s responsibility and the unity of the Realm your undertaking. I recommend keeping those efforts separate. Of course, the Order wishes to see all of humanity at peace, but I must remind you that it has long been the Church’s policy to remain neutral in political affairs.”

“Of course,” the King agreed. “However, I wish for you to hear the specifics of my request before coming to a decision.”

The King waited for some sort of approval, something that seemed backwards in Raegn’s mind, but when Dulius gave a nod the leader of Elysia continued.

“Current Shaktikan law forbids the use of the Light from anyone other than those officially granted permission by the Tsurat family,” the King informed them. “As you can imagine, they’ve kept a keen eye on everyone within their borders that has any amount of affinity and only those aligned with the Emperor are allowed to use their abilities. More concerning is that we have little idea what is done with those who violate this law. Whispers of a rebellion against the Tsurat family are not uncommon and we do have reports of skirmishes within their cities and along their trade routes that are not my doing. I fear the matter of Victoria’s pending marriage will only add to the tumultuous state of affairs.”

Raegn glanced at the princess, but now her head was hung low, her eyes focused on whatever remained in her cup of tea and the crumbs on its accompanying saucer.

“The marriage was agreed to under the terms that Victoria and Tirin get to know one another for a period of two seasons,” King Melrose continued. “Victoria is to travel to the Shaktikan capital in a few days, but her time there weighs heavy on my mind. I would ask of the Order to offer protection for her, though under the guise of being members of my Crownguard, to remain anonymous, of course.”

Raegn could see the whiskers of Dulius’s beard twitch and the gloves on Cenric’s massive hands groaned as they were pulled tight.

“Are the members of your Crownguard not more suitable for such a task?” Dulius questioned.

“Oh they could do it,” the King admitted and retook his seat, crossing one leg up onto the knee of the other. “But if we are honest, we both know that there is no comparison between a Justicar and a Crownguard when affinity is brought into the equation.”

“If Shaktikan law forbids the use, however, the margin narrows considerably,” Cenric chimed in. Or drummed in, more accurately, given the deep tone of his voice.

“True,” King Melrose admitted again, “but in this scenario the Justicar’s affinity would be for…emergency use, shall we say. I am not a gambling man, but my hand has been forced and even I know the value of a hidden card. Whispers of a rebellion are a threat to Shaktikan stability and therefore my daughter. If the need ever arose, I would prefer my daughter be defended by the strongest the Realm has to offer.”

Raegn folded his arms then, remembering one of Madam Vansantan’s lessons when she’d prepared he and Tera for his first assignment, quickly unfolded them. Such an expression conveyed disinterest in the conversation and discouraged others from speaking to the person. Hardly fitting for an audience with the King. Swapping back and forth probably made him look agitated, though, even if was a more accurate expression of his current feelings. Raegn settled for leaving his hands awkwardly resting on his legs. How did Princess Victoria do it? She sat there this whole time, one of the chief subjects of the conversation, and simply looked at whoever had been speaking without the slightest concern of how it might impact her. She looked a bit like a doll with how little she moved, honestly. Perhaps it was the constant holding of her tea that allowed to her mask whatever she was feeling internally.

“Your Grace, I am not sure I can spare two of my Justicar to escort Princess Victoria for such an extended period of time,” Dulius replied. Then, as a counter-offer, suggested, “We may be able to take her to the Shaktikan capital. The journey itself would be relatively quick and she would be protected while outside a city's walls.”

The King leaned in, the downward tilt of his head bringing shadow under across his face and his voice nearly drowned out by a wave of thunder that rattled the windows behind him.

“In the last century, the people have come to question the need for the Order’s existence,” he uttered. “I am not blind to how they look at you on the streets. They see you as mere gatekeepers to the aid the Church can offer them. Not until one of my Shield Cities fell and whispers told of a cult within my walls comprised of the darkness you are under oath to destroy have they begun to turn back to you. What would they think of the Order were they to find out it’s been busying itself by playing the same political schemes it claims to hold itself above?” the King paused, letting the ache of his words set in. “They might outright reject you. Who would be left for them to turn to?”

To the Highlord’s credit, his broad shoulders bore the implication well. “That possibility is precisely the reason we do not involve ourselves in such matters,” he countered.

“Ah, but you do, despite what you say. Come Dulius,” the King said and leaned back into his chair. “I know it, the other rulers, such as they are, know it. It might be hidden so well it can’t be truly attributed, but it is no coincidence that there are many events subtly influencing the Realm with no one claiming responsibility. Being so active comes with risk, though. I pride myself on my statecraft, so believe me when I tell you: I know just how hard it is to be the unseen hand. Even the best of us slip.”

“We seem to be straying from your original request,” Dulius said, setting his finished cup of tea down on the small table at the center of their circled armchairs. “If you wish to claim a grievance, Your Grace, I would prefer to hear it now.”

King Melrose’s brow flexed. Perhaps he hadn’t foreseen that the Highlord would be so forward? Or perhaps it was just another of his controlled expressions. The latter, if Raegn had to guess. That first smile given to Nora had been just a bit off and now he could see nothing but an act in the way the King moved and spoke. Standing at the moments of declaration, sitting in a relaxed posture to bring down the defenses of those he spoke with - it was all a game, from the tiniest of movements to the mustering of entire armies. Light, it was no wonder people always claimed royalty were mad.

“Very well,” the King said with a light sigh that hid the accusation to follow. “I have proof that your Order is responsible for killing the majority of the Khans - at one of their sacred rituals, no less. The disarray that befell them and the Shaktikan’s aggression that followed forced me to use far too many of my resources to keep the peace and balance of power. Had I not angered the Shaktikans with restrictive policies, there would be no need for a marriage to form an alliance. This very situation, forcing my beloved daughter to become a pawn in the endless match of statecraft, is your doing.”

“You lie,” the Highlord growled.

It took a noted effort for Raegn not to shy away from the heat in Dulius’s voice. They were all unarmed, but the King was liable to have guards just outside the room where it would be easy to call them if he took any offense. Surprisingly, the King looked a bit taken aback. He'd thought the Highlord would accept such an accusation? No, Raegn realized as he watched the King hurriedly glance at his daughter. She’d had her eyes on the Highlord, but gave a light shrug when she noticed the shift in her father’s attention.

“No, I do not,” the King countered with a quizzical look, “yet neither do you. How interesting.” He thrummed is fingers on the arm of a his chair. “Perhaps I simply misjudged your control,” he muttered. “The Order does cover every corner of the Realm…”

Dulius rose from his chair and Cenric was only a moment behind him. Apparently that was the queue for them to go, though Raegn was the last of the four to stand. It wouldn’t hurt to rehearse these sorts of interactions a bit next time, he thought, or at least come in with some sort of plan. Shit, he hadn’t even known they could leave without the King’s approval. He’d always treated the Highlord with respect, but not necessarily the amount worthy of an actual ruler. If he’d learned anything today, it was that the leader of the Order apparently sat upon the highest of thrones. Though how much of that was simply a product of the Order's role in the coming war?

“We shall take your proposal into consideration, Your Grace,” Dulius said.

“Highlord Orgeron, please,” King Melrose said, lifting a hand in a gentle manner to bid Dulius stay a moment longer. “I would appreciate your answer, one way or the other, by morning. And do know that sometimes I hate being king. So often my hand is forced. My advisors do not hesitate to remind me that in the coming years your Order will be as needed as it was when it was first founded. I do not doubt them, but the Realm will need unity as well. For victory to be within our grasp, more forces will be required than what the Order alone can muster. If I am successful, you shall have an army at your disposal that even Oswald would envy.”

The Highlord did not nod or acknowledge the statement. He simply strode from the room, two of his Justicar and their commander following him in stride.