20 years ago

Many have forgotten the cause of the civil war. Many have simply memorialized it as simply a conflict of interest. The cohesion that the clan has endured could only exist for so long before something broke it. They've spent centuries as brothers under the banner of a united empire. But they also treated themselves as independent nations, with independent goals and prospects for the empire's future. Their success, especially after peace treaties with the Shi'Ased solidified, had turned their noble doctrines into a guide for personal growth. And the king of these seven nations: Arkouda, Koraki, Liontari, Nychterida, Lykos, Aetos, and Tigri, has turned bitter with the dynamic they have become rather acquainted with. Land rights, access to trade, access to water or farmland. These things, while minor, tolled in the minds of the soldier who went into battle. Their only concern was defending their people, their homes. So they took up their swords and spears and marched through their own allies to begin a brutal contest that will persist for the next five years. A contest that could have no victors, no true glory. Only loss and grief could be inflicted.

When James got the decree, he knew something was wrong. His father was a brute, but he wasn't a foolish one. While he would cause war in the smaller, rather insignificant kingdoms to their east, it would be beyond idiocy to spark a war within the clans, especially when The Frostlanders to their north are becoming more and more rabid decade. this will only serve to weaken them. But his father refused to hear from him or his sisters. They were instead sent off to fight. With only Aetos and Nychterida staying neutral, this will be a war that will be fought within the most militarized nation on the planet. not only, but Torlak has agreed to lend aid to Liontari and their allies. A bold move by their Grandmaster, but they have always had the closest ties in the Clans. Likewise, Hath has always associated more with Tigri; both benefitted from the mutually shared trading empire they have established in the Southern oceans.

But these alliances, foolish battles, and unwarranted conflict mattered little to any of them, for they foresaw a much greater danger than any civil war. It came with the assassination of James's own mother near the start of this war that they became far more aware of the dangerous organization known as Talin. A tragedy that only temporarily dragged their entire family from the war. She was a beloved figure in the clans, among even the other royal families. Her death, among many, hit them hard. James' mourning was deep and wounding. And this would only be the beginning of a series of murders and assassinations among every other monarchy in the clans. Kings, princes and princesses, dukes and marquis killed in their own home. Throwing thee clans into only further disarray. And while the Clans only saw each other as the enemies, the godslayers of Theurgy once again shall only know this enemy as Talin.

Wilbur walked into the meeting room of the godslayers. It was empty, now. The other god slayers were resting, only recently assembled through much effort. But James has not left this room within the past two days. Just sitting there at the head of the table, a bottle of thick alcohol to accompany him and his misery. He droned through the meetings with the awareness of common cutlery. He might as well not be a godslayer. Even now he seemed one with what was around him. He was not unconscious, but he did loosely cling to the glass bottle he had before him as he gazed half-heartedly at the spinning black globe in the middle of the table. Wilbur walked down to him.

"Drowning in your sorrows?" Wilbur asked him.

"Trying to drown them out," he said in a low voice. "Unfortunately, I have had little luck delving into this supposed drunken madness. All would know I would love to forget all of this."

"Is that really what you desire, James," Wilbur stood next to him.

"In the span of half a year, I've lost my mother, two sisters, and a majority of my family. I'm one of the last of my damn line. My wife . . . My child . . . My nation is in shambles, and my father seems only contempt to crumble it to dust further."

He launches the bottle with damaging intent. Fortunately, Wilbur managed to catch it before it collided with the ground. It wasn't a robust liquor, but it was no stretch to believe James tried his best by how empty it was. He sat the bottle on the table as James leaned back in his chair, placing his hands over his red face. It was worse than Lizbeth has described. It was like he had nothing more than a writhing mess of unsatisfied anger. He has a target for his rage but no clue how to focus it. At least, that is what Wilbur could surmise. Wilbur shook his head at himself. He shouldn't be trying to analyze his friend at a time like this. He needs to understand him.

He sat down across from James, who still has not removed his hands from his face. He was as still as stone but let out rather erratic breaths. He did not have the temper to be sad. But neither could anger outpace the incredible hopelessness that nested in his heart.

"I thought you would wish to avenge your mother and sisters, James," Wilbur told him. "You are a man who always declares justice for all those who are wronged. What makes this situation different."

"What's the point in fighting when all of it, no matter how hard I try, will simply turn to dust?"

"What's the point . . ."

Wilbur stood immediately at those words, throwing his chair back as he marched around the table. James lifted his head from his hands to see the commotion, only to find a fist coming across his chin. He was thrown sprawling from his seat, shambling away as Wilbur hovered over him. He looked a menace; the deep cold stare in his eyes, usually calculative, was only judging and distant. The hit connected well but was not aura enhanced. He stood, wiping the blood from his lips as Wilbur still walked even closer. He tried to get another word out, but another fist collided with his stomach and another with his chin. Wilbur's punches were each solid and strong, with a clear passion behind everyone. James was in a disarray of thoughts, bewildered by these strange actions. It took him two more hits before he could compose himself and actually dodge one that could have broken his nose. He grabbed Wilbur's arm, and with all his weight, punched him in the face. Even without Aura, he went flying into the chairs. But he did not stand. Wilbur rubbed his raised ribs, growling at the pain.

"Have you gone mad, Wil-"

"It is said," Wilbur's voice came about. Still cold, still calculative. "That two warriors can communicate without words during a battle. Do you know what I am thinking, James?"

James straightened his clothes, still under bewilderment as Wilbur rose, dusting off his own garbs. The anger on his face, the emotion was unlike anything James was accustomed to. He walked back towards James, but James did not dodge this time. He allowed Wilbur to grab him by his collar.

"What's the point?" Wilbur growled. "You imbecile. You ask now of all times why we fight. I thought I knew you, brother. I thought your despair to be over mere logistics, but I did not think of you to be a coward."

"I am no coward," James pushed Wilbur off of him. "Look at the state they pushed us in. Our loved ones stains the ground around us. The clans brought to needless squabbles, my father maddened with it all, and we godslayers mere newborns to this threat. What else am I to do but despair? What else is there for me?"

"There is no question what you should do," Wilbur shouted. "You fight. You keep fighting to protect all that is precious to you. Fight to appease the souls of those wrong."

"And after I have lost everything?" James shouted back. "What should I do then?"

"You keep fighting, damn you," Wilbur told him yelled out him. "You fight till you are sore, till your bones shatter and your skin boils. Every morsel of you will be there to defend our home, your nation."

"What foolish ideology," James told him. "Such are the words of a fool."

"And those are the words of a coward," Wilbur said. "Between a fool and a coward, I know which to die for. I don't wish to say the same to you. I refuse to let your mother die just for her son to become some miserable wretch-"

"Stop," James said suddenly, throwing up his hands. His eyes were wide with a short realization, and those Wilbur did not know what. He felt ashamed, however, to have been so angry. James Looked past him, beyond him, as if seeing a precious item once lost or a good friend had come back to him. Something lost and precious. He sank to his knees, looking at this imaginary thing. The room's silence amplified this mystified emotion he had. "I am sorry, Wilbur. You are not a fool. At least not as far as I am."

"Please understand, James, that we are all under this very same curse," he said. "Fear and sorrow, these are the things that strike down all who carry the sword and the burden of a nation upon themselves."

"And it is up to the man, the one who carries the sword and the burden, to take on this extra weight," James gave a sad, tired smile. "Those words . . . "

"Came from you yourself, idiot," Wilbur told him. "Now stand up; you look pathetic down there."He offered Wilbur a hand, a hand he gladly accepted. And he could understand, a little of this man he calls a friend. "If it is the power you wish, if it is reassurance, hope, remember that I will always be there for you. But don't for a second think that I am here to carry you. You will be a king, and you will lead us from this darkness. And I will be there to make sure you don't die. Understood?"

"Understood," James chuckled to himself. "To think I had thought myself a hopeless fool. But we can't escape reality, Wilbur. How are we going to strengthen ourselves against this enemy?"

"I know of only one way of doing so," Wilbur told him. "We need to see the old man."

(X)

Gray was alive.

An incredible sight, to say the least. Celia was afraid that she would have to suffer an unsightly fate of her friend, but it appeared that Fate had spared this pour soul this day at least. But they did not have time to wait. Gray being a knight was the only reason he still breathes, but he was no Edlund when it came to Aura. He could still die with how much blood he has lost already. The cart was a little worse for the average wear, it was flipped on its side, and the tug buckle and breeching straps had been torn in half from the ordeal. The horses, fortunately, did not wander far, and Celia begins to think of how they were to get Gray to a doctor. The boy wouldn't last a day with injuries such as these. All they can hope for is that a doctor will be in the next town over. But she can't carry Gray all that way. Not in her state. He could barely move her fingers, and she barely had the strength to stand. And the gut wound that was only now mending itself wasn't doing her much favors. She spoke these things to Elena.

"We can get the carriage back in working order," Celia sighed. "But with that tug buckle snapped, keeping the horses in line will most certainly be a problem."

"What if I carry him myself," She already leaned down to pick him up. No doubt if he were conscious, he would protest to such rough treatment. "If I hurry, I can get him there within the hour."

"And leave us behind," Celia whispered thoughtfully. Elena paused at that. Celia realized too late the ultimatum she just offered to the young woman. If they leave the two of them here, she may be able to get him to safety. If they tried walking there, in the middle of the night, they would surely find themselves prey. But then, she shall forsake the oath that she and Gray pledged to Lyse. And oaths among knights is an unbreakable truth. Celia had to come up with a solution that did not threaten either side. Anything.

"I'll carry you all, then," Elena said finally, interrupting whatever thought Celia had come to. Elena looked up to Celia with a focused and determined gaze. Celia could only offer mild surprise. "I can hold onto the horses while we go. I can hold the carriage together long enough to make it to the city."

"But that's a six-hour ride," Elena said. "Are you sure you can last that long through the knight."

Elena wordless walked to the carriage they had flipped right side and loaded Gray on its floor. She gestured to it, stern-faced and stoic. "Get in, madam. I don't intend to break my oaths. I will last as long as I need to."

"Elena," Celia smiled, a bit of repletion in her smile. "Very well then. As you say, Elena. You do your country and your family proud this day."

"I am Elena Rosenwald," she announced. "A knight of Liontari. If I can not even serve as a tug buckle, then what kind of knight am I?"

"A knight," Massua said wistfully. She had cast away the white eyed look she had worn, but she had been silent up until now. "You're a knight? Do you know my brother? Where are my brothers and my father?"

"We will worry about that when we are out of danger," Celia turned to her daughter, setting soft hands on her cheeks. "I'll explain it to you later, but right now, we need to get you o safety. Now come."

She basically dragged the silent Massua into the carriage, sitting across from where gray was laid. Elena took whatever supplies they had left to patch up his wounds, but her medical skills still won't be enough. She reattached the tongue of the wooden pole back to the harnesses of the horses that were rendered unusable, along with the tug buckle. Which meant there was no way for the horses themselves to pull the carriage without an engineer coming about them. But Elena had cleared though of the way to remedy this. She scared off the two horses into the wilderness and brought forth the spare horse that Gray used to carry their food and cooking supplies. But this time, she'll be riding on it, holding onto the lancewood shaft under her arm and lifting the carriage. Zoi poured from her as she shaved and, with her free hand, whipped the horse forward at a gallop. The horse responded and went onward. Even when she was holding the carriage, it was still only meant to be pulled competently by two horses. Pack horses were strong, but it will be a battle of attrition in and of itself to see who gave out first, her or the horse. They cut through the plains with haste, nonetheless, towards the city that had remained their haven out of reach.

The ride was anything but comfortable. Because of the angle that she held them at, they risked tipping over once more, and they experienced a bumpy ride all the way through. Massua was still in this state of shock, in utter disbelief at what had occurred. No doubt she has suffered being held by Talin for these past months. Celia intends to make up for that lost time later. But first, they will have to survive the night. It was dangerous to travel at this time, especially after blood had been spilled in battle. They could see all sorts of creatures rise from dens and shadows alike approaching the corpses laid fresh in the grass. Elena made sure to stay clear of them, but if one decided that a tad fresher meat was worth it, there was little she could do to dissuade them. That was why when a Chimera began to give chase, and her breath caught in her chest. Celia heard the roar and clenched her fists. The feeling had not come back to them, and it was mere instinct. Massua locked onto the verdant green infestation upon her mother's arm seemed to pulse with a steady green glow, but she did her best to ignore it. For some reason, the aura it gave off made Massua uneasy. Celia looked out the window to see a shape following them from the air. Those black wings and scorpion tale, no doubt it was indeed a Chimera.

"It's closing in the right behind us, Elena," Celia said.

"Understood," Celia gritted her teeth. Her arm was taught with stress. She momentarily relinquished control ver the horse to draw her blade, conjuring one with incredible length. It was perhaps the longest sword she has ever pulled out, even she doesn't know what kind it was. But as the Chimera attempted to land on the carriage's hood, she swung with all her might, managing to clip the chimera and drive it off before it completely tipped them over. It roared in protest, letting loose a few spines from its tail that rained on the wooden head of the carriage and imbedded themselves there. One even bounced off her pauldron, denting it. The horse was spoked, sensing the Chimera's murderous intent, and began to veer off course. With the Wooden shaft in one hand and a sword in the other, they were in a dire situation. the Chimera was already catching up to them, and this time aiming for her, the head of this beast. Elena had not time to think and ponder. As the Chimera approached her from behind, she sheathed her sword and pulled out something of a more manageable size-a saber. And in one motion, she threw it behind her. The Chimera could not dodge from such a close range, and the sword succeeded in severing an entire wing from the creature. It crashed just beside the carriage, and the carriage and the sword went out of view. The night seemed relentless. Again and again, creatures would appear. Some steered clear, while others would give chase.

"Two Nemean lions are taking us now," Massua looked out the window.

"Throw out whatever we have in the boot?"

"Our food?"

"just do it, dam you."

Massua hesitantly replied. As soon as any of the creatures came close, they would throw a piece of meat or anything to keep them off their trail. Most of it was dried pork or ox, but they seemed pretty eager for anything to sink their claws within.

But, by the time the sun came upon the horizon, they had removed all the relations they had. They were bare at this point, but they had actually done it. The sun was morphing the sky in its colors. And the nocturnal beasts once more retreated into their dwellings, not wishing to be caught by their daytime equivalents out in the open. Massua scanned the horizons for anything that could come their way. Chimeras were still active during the day, and basilisk was still common on this side of the plains. But as she scanned the terrain ahead of them, she spotted the very top peaks of what appeared to be towers and buildings. And a wall. It was a town, surely the very one they were aiming for all this while. That was Corne.

"That's it, isn't it, mother?" Massua pointed it out, and Celia moved to her side to see. With her keen eyes, she could make out the gats and steep towers of Koraki.

"Yeah," Celia said. "Hold on, Elena, we're nearly there."

Elena did not reply, but she steered the horses in that direction. The trail began to become more worn as the early sunbathed their backs with its brilliance. The tall wooden and stone walls greeted them as they came upon the borders of this haven. Before they had even reached the large set of doors, they were pulled open from the inside, allowing them clear passage into the town. Celia felt a sudden rush of relief wash over her as she nearly collapsed on her daughter's back. The carriage came to a slow stop as guards and police officers ran closer, and the gates were closed behind them. One in full plate armor, most likely a knight, ran to the perch to the rider, Elena. But before the knight could get to her, she fell out of the seat. The knight caught her, examining her rough conditions.

"TRaveling at night?" he whispered. "What happened here."