There were no stars in the sky when we approached Blackstone Castle. Clouds had long shielded our advance, even moonlight seemed obscured by their sheer coverage of the sky. To my right was Elder Zulan, his arms crossing over his chest in an effort to fight off the cold. On his other side was Mercy, who seemed completely unmoved by the weather, not that it was any surprise. Ice has no effect on something colder than it, after all.
The rest of our company trailed behind us, with only Siegemund maintaining a close march to ours. Say what you will about the man, he was loyal to his Elder, I appreciated that about him. Behind him, Blackstone lieutenants and soldiers marched dutifully, but the forced steps and near dragging of their feet betrayed their resolve. I didn't blame them, I had pushed them hard on our journey. They were tired, and so was I. The only one who seemed in any sort of bright spirit was Belial, poleaxe resting comfortably on his shoulder. His gaze seemed focused ahead, far above that of any of the others. He seemed especially eager to be back with Blackstone's walls. His entire demeanor struck me as odd, though I knew now was not the time to press him.
The front gates slowly drew open as a loud horn blared from the top ramparts, alerting the rest of the castle to our arrival. Before long, the impressive view of Blackstone Castle was freely open to us. In truth, calling it a castle was to severely downplay its massive size. It was more accurate to call it a fortress, with its first layer further built upon time and time again. Blackstone Castle was a mass of three castles, each one rising higher and higher than the one before it. The entire thing was almost as tall as a mountain, and ten times as imposing. The dozen mounted warriors strolling out to meet us only added to that feeling of intensity.
The mounted guards quickly led us inside, the riders not even taking a moment to observe us. I suppose such an act wasn't necessary, they knew to expect us. Still, their dismissive nature bothered me, especially with the knowledge I had. Before long, we were led to the Captain of the watch, a man I was more than familiar with. Captain Abel Obadia, a gifted Cavalryman, a beloved leader amongst his men, and one of the few faithful remaining among the legion. He was on horseback when we approached, but I was quick to notice him setting aside his reins.
"Good to see you back, Sir Cross. I trust our guests made it safely as well?" He asked, dismounting and raising his visor as he spoke. A bright red face with dull brown eyes stared back at me, blinking away droplets of sweat that had formed above his eyes.
"Yes, the elder and his knight have arrived safely, I'll deliver the news to Apollyon immediately." I confirmed. Obadia shook his head and rested a hand on the hilt of his arming sword.
"Apollyon has already retreated to her chambers for the evening, sire. She has asked not to be disturbed." He explained. I furrowed my brow at this. Night had only recently fallen, not even an hour had passed since the sun set. Moreover, Apollyon never retreated to her chambers before an important arrival. Just what was she up to?
"Did she give any reason for such early retirement?" I asked. If I had suspected Obadia of secrecy, those thoughts would have been immediately dispelled by his next words.
"I'm not sure, sire. I only received the order from one of her lieutenants. I assumed it was something important, but I couldn't begin to imagine what." Obadia was an honest man, and a good one. He wouldn't lie to me, nor would he hide something from me if I thought it was necessary to know. I briefly looked around me, observing my companions in the bits of torchlight that illuminated them. Something seemed off about them, but I couldn't describe what it was. Perhaps I was just being paranoid, I was still on edge from the journey back, after all. I sighed and turned back to Obadia.
"Well in any case, the guests and our men have had a long journey. See to it that they are fed and taken care of." I ordered.
"And for yourself, sire?" Obadia asked. I simply shook my head.
"I have a few errands I need to run. I'll worry about food and rest when I am finished." He seemed not to like this response, his face contorting into a frustrated glare. This was far from the first time I had seen that look, and I suspected it would not be the last. He cared, perhaps too much. Still, he recovered quickly enough, simply lowering the visor to his helm and taking his horse by the reins. I took a step back and allowed him to adjust, turning to lead the Elder and my men away.
"What's this? Your Warlord is too busy to follow up on a demand?" Called out Siegemund. Even without seeing it, I knew trouble could only come of this remark. Not all of Blackstone were so zealous, but many were exceptionally dedicated to Apollyon's worldview. One of which happened to be standing right beside me. With one swift motion he reached for his sword, and with a quicker one, I extended my hand. When the soldier met resistance, he glared up at its source, and recoiled a bit when he realized that it was me. I shook my head, and he sheepishly lowered his weapon. Content with this, I took a step forward and eyed Siegemund, his arms crossed as he took in the size of the castle. I could tell how dissatisfied he was, and wondered if he was trying to catch a glance of our warlord from here. He'd need the vision of a hawk if he was.
"Apollyon has retreated for the evening. I will set up a meeting with her as early as I can." I said. Siegemund turned towards me, the look on his face one of irritation and indignance.
"You march us for days to this castle, with barely any rest or food, and yet your own warlord doesn't even have the decency to greet us? Seems she's barely fit to play the part." He barked. The attitude among the men shifted almost immediately. Even those not as zealous would not take well to their commander being insulted like that. This time, it was not I that prevented an attack, but Elder Zulan. With but one step and the raising of his hands, he interposed himself between the soldiers and his guard.
"Forgive my companion, please. He is tired, and worried for my safety. He does not mean his insult, I assure you. We are grateful for your hospitality, and eagerly await our meeting, whenever it may come." He said, a wave of calm seeming to flow from every word he said. While my men remained on edge, it seemed that this was enough to at least sway them from assaulting Siegemund. I wondered just how many times the elder had to step in on behalf of his so-called bodyguard.
It was at this moment where I again felt something off with the assembled soldiers, but again I couldn't seem to pinpoint what it was. I furrowed my eyes and observed them closely, trying to discern what it was that seemed to grab my attention. The lower ranked members had their shields, all tightly held even at rest, with their swords at the ready. The lieutenants were likewise prepared, and carried their weapons at the ready, none of them seeming overly relaxed or stressed. Even Belial seemed to be in a neutral state, his aggressive stance much less pronounced than usual.
That's when I saw it. It wasn't something the men were doing wrong, or even that one of them seemed more on edge. In fact, the feeling didn't seem to stem from a man at all, instead it came from the presence of Mercy. Or rather, the fact that she wasn't present. Sometime between our arrival and the few minutes of conversation, she had vanished. She had said nothing to me about disappearing, nor did she have any reason to. The only clear cut purpose behind her leaving so suddenly was to act on her duties as a Peacekeeper. And with no one to assassinate, she had to be delivering information. Which she only did for Apollyon.
My mind began racing as the crowd began to disperse, various conversations seeming a thousand miles away. Whatever Mercy was telling Apollyon had to be important, why else hide it under the guise of an early slumber? I already knew Apollyon had it within her to hide critical information from us, if Svengard was anything to take from. Rumors amongst the legion speculated that Mercy was the only one to know our true purpose that day. I had never given credence to these rumors, but perhaps I should have. I needed to see Apollyon. Now.
Without another word, I turned from the remainder of my men and began making my way towards the highest layer of the castle. I had been summoned to her chambers many times in the past, I knew that was where I needed to go. On my way I passed by a number of other Blackstone soldiers, most of whom seemed to be on duty. There was a quietness to those I passed, as if all lost in thought, concentrating on something I had not yet been made aware of. I tried telling myself that this was just me being paranoid, seeing patterns where none existed. Then again, I had told myself that before the attack on Svengard, and that resulted in me losing my best Warden, and many of my men losing faith. I couldn't risk that again.
Before long I had cleared the first ramparts, and stood at the foot of the second layer of the castle. This one was much like the first, but it still functioned primarily as a castle and housing space for the legion. Much of the first layer had been reconstructed as a large fort, full of armories, open courtyards, and high walls to repel any invaders and provide time for any non-fighting soldiers to prepare for combat. This second castle was where most of the legion called home. I passed by a number of kitchens, cookhouses, training chambers, even the occasional library. More soldiers passed by me in my manic pace to reach the upper levels, most seemed to make way for me as I passed.
The ones that caught my attention were those that stopped and stared, observing me until I had cleared corners or raised beyond their sightline. I wasn't sure if it was solely because of how rapidly I was moving, or for some other purpose. Either way, I did not care, and simply kept moving. Another round of stairs flew by as I stepped onto the final layer of Blackstone Castle, this one restricted to only the most important figures within the Blackstone Legion. Only myself, Mercy, Apollyon, and a few others were able to call this castle home. Others would come and go as was deemed necessary, but more often than not, this last castle was sparsely populated.
It was all the more strange to me then, when I climbed the last of these steps only to see a soldier I did not recognize carrying a platter. The soldier appeared young, with short blonde hair and weary eyes. The poor thing looked like she was ready to pass out, a feeling that only became solidified once I saw her yawn. I was almost certain that the platter, which contained a small assortment of meats, bread, and a pitcher was not solely for her, if at all. An idea had formed in my mind even before I took a step towards her, my armor alerting her to my presence. Her posture almost immediately straightened as she saw me.
"Lord Cross! Or, uh... Sir Cross." She stammered, nearly dropping the platter as she straightened. The pitcher likely would have fallen, had I not extended a hand to steady it. The soldier shifted her glance to the pitcher for a moment, before wincing a bit and looking back to me.
"Sorry sir." She squeaked. I shook my head and raised my hand to calm her.
"Think nothing of it." I said. She seemed to relax a bit, breathing once before turning back towards one of the halls leading towards the last piece of the castle. I followed her gaze, falling on the large circular chamber that served as both meeting grounds for lieutenants and chief advisors, and as a dueling ground for soldiers to settle their grievances. Apollyon and Mercy weren't here, not that I expected them to be. Even so, this only reinforced that whatever they were planning was dangerous, and I would not let Blackstone be caught unaware again. Turning my attention back to the soldier, I softened my stance, hoping to put her further at ease.
"Might I ask who that platter is for?" I asked. I already knew the answer, of course, but if I was to gain entry, I would need to play dumb, at least for now. The soldier blinked a few times, as though trying to process the question. When she returned to herself, she shifted slightly, turning to face me at full attention.
"The Warlord Apollyon, sir. She retired early, sir, and wanted her food brought to her chambers." She replied. I nodded along, pretending I'd heard this for the first time.
"I see. Well, I had business with Apollyon anyway, how about I take that platter so you can eat and get some rest?" I offered. The soldier's eyes lit up for a fraction of a second, before she quickly regained her composure. Still, that brief moment was enough for me to know that the plan would be successful. The offer was tempting to her, all she needed was a one more push.
"That's kind of you sir, but she specifically requested I bring it." She argued. Specifically? Why did it matter exactly who brought the platter? A pointless question, I knew, but one that lingered a bit longer than I would have liked. I did not respond at first, only extending my hand out, as if to take it from her. I stopped short, allowing my extended hand to rest before her as she stared at it a moment. She gulped and looked up at me with... fear in her eyes?
"Then I'll tell her I insisted." I said. I watched her closely now, studying her every move. She seemed uncertain at first, shifting uncomfortably in place before backing up slightly. I did not press further, but kept my hand extended towards her. Slowly, she took tentative steps toward me, and reluctantly placed the platter in my hands, her hands seeming to shake as they released from the cool steel.
"You seem worried, is everything alright soldier?" I asked. She seemed taken aback at first, then began nodding, rather vigorously.
"Yes sir, I'm alright, all's well." She said rapidly. The pace and volume of her speech told me that she was being dishonest. Before I could further press her, she walked beside me and began to walk towards the stairs.
"I should be off now, farewell sir." She practically vomited those words out as she sped away, skipping several steps on her march down. Strange, and slightly concerning. I'd need to make a note to keep an eye on that soldier, especially when Apollyon was concerned. For now though, I had business with our Warlord, and a platter of food to deliver to her. I could tell now that the pitcher was filled with water, rather than wine or any other alcoholic beverage. This only helped to reinforce my suspicions from earlier.
With the platter in one hand, and my poleaxe in the other, I marched through the circular chamber, towards the wooden doors at the back of it. Another set of stone stairways lit by torchlight greeted me as I entered, leading towards a lit chamber at the very top. Apollyon's chamber. Already I could hear the faint back and forth of conversation, and I recognized both voices. The first, low, assertive, confident, was Apollyon. The second confirmed my theory once and for all, softer, void of any emotion, almost inhuman. That was Mercy. I did not let my presence be immediately known, instead slowly walking up the steps. The conversation came to halt as I approached.
When I reached the top, I was greeted by a spacious, and surely once luxurious chamber. A bed large enough for four people rested in the far back of the chamber, ornate and flowing with curtains and silks. There however, was where the luxury ended. A slew of battle maps and mounted weapons adorned the walls, each underneath tables carrying a slew of texts and books. The entire chamber carried an air of disrepair, with empty spots where dust outlines of paintings were still visible, just beyond the edges of the mounted weapons. In the far left was a larger, circular table, a candelabra lit and shining brightly. And sat at that table, both in full armor, were Apollyon and Mercy.
Apollyon observed me for a moment, her black steel helm making her resemble a reaper of some sort as she slowly stood, both hands gently planted on the table. Her similarly colored armor plates slid against one another, noisily announcing her every move. Their faint gold outlines had long since faded at this point, and did nothing to distract from the fearsome, and massive war sword leaning beside her. For a moment there was silence, as Mercy slowly stood to match Apollyon. The silence broke only when I took a step forward.
"Greetings master, I came to deliver your platter, as you requested." I said, keeping my voice low and neutral. It was customary to allow the Warlord to speak first, but her silence had made it clear she had no interest in doing so. I took a few more steps towards their table, and neither made a move to stop me. Instead, they observed me as I gently sat the platter on the table, took a single step back, and stood straight. I kept my poleaxe by my side, one end firmly planted in the ground, the other pointed away from my allies. Apollyon was the first to return my greeting, pulling her hands from the table and turning to face me.
"Appreciated, Holden. I see you have relieved Elaina. " She said, each word seeming to carry weight. I nodded in response, keeping note of that soldier's name.
"That was good of you. She's worked hard today." She said, the way she spoke seemed strange to me. I'd assumed she would be curious why I had taken her place. Question why I had disobeyed an order. Perhaps she assumed I hadn't heard it. Perhaps she didn't really care. No, I knew the reason, the true reason. She knew she didn't need to be curious. She didn't need to question me. It was only a matter of when I would reveal my intentions, not if I had any. I knew better than to keep her waiting.
"There was another reason I brought the platter to you." I admitted. Apollyon did not flinch, or even seem to react to my words, it was almost like she had expected me to say them. Of course she did, she was too clever not to. Mercy, however, did seem to take a step forward, moving slowly around the table, her hand tracing its edge as she walked. I suspected she was getting nervous, despite the lack of evidence. She seemed so eager to hide Liam's survival, I knew she had to have some motive. I pushed these thoughts from my mind, and focused on my master instead. She was still unmoving, waiting for me to speak.
"I believe a man we once thought dead may yet live. And I fear he has turned his sights against us." I began. Before I could finish, Apollyon nodded and said;
"O'Carrick." One word, a single name, that was all she said. And yet it was enough to throw off my entire train of thought. She knew? How had she known? I had been convinced of his death three years ago, we all had. Never once did I entertain the thought of him living before a few days ago, and yet Apollyon had said his name like it was the only obvious choice.
"You knew?" I asked, barely able to keep my voice neutral as it had been. Apollyon placed one hand back on the table, her posture relaxed, and yet still as attentive as though she were standing guard against a thousand enemies.
"His skill far surpassed the jarl in Svengard, and he was much too careful to die in a blaze. The only real option was for him to have lived, wouldn't you agree?" She asked. My head spun in circles as I tried to think, because no, I hadn't seen it as the only real option. I had grieved for him, prayed for his salvation, and my warlord knew even as I wept that he was alive. It felt dishonest, far more dishonest than anything she had done before. But there had to be a reason she had stayed silent, there had to be. Apollyon had always had strange morals and convictions compared to the average person, but there was always a reason.
"Then why not send someone after him? Punish him like we did Daubeny?" I questioned. Daubeny, the warlord that abandoned Blackstone, stole one of our forts, and stood opposed to us. I had dealt with his insurrection personally, it was even where I'd first met Liam. Four years ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime. I snapped back to attention as Apollyon turned and walked away, turning to one of the many long swords adorning her walls. I only now realized her sword was back in her hands, I hadn't even seen her grab it.
"Daubeny was a weak willed sheep of a man. He stole from us, he was a coward, and sought only to preserve his own life. O'Carrick on the other hand..." She began, lingering on Liam's name as though dining on some succulent meal. I wasn't sure I liked the sound of it. She continued;
"...O'Carrick is a wolf, through and through. A misguided, noble fool of a wolf, but a wolf nonetheless." She said, turning to face us once more. "I knew he wouldn't leave things as they were, it just wasn't in his code." She explained. I remained as calm as I could externally, but inside I was fuming. The way she spoke of O'Carrick sounded like she was describing a toy, not a flesh and blood man. He may have been a revealed deserter and possible traitor now, but he deserved that much dignity at least.
"Of course, I suspected he would act sooner, I suppose I underestimated how deeply he was shaken. Still, nothing a little push couldn't fix." She continued. A little push? What was she talking about? Was there something providing him aid? Is that why she had sent us to Herongale? It certainly wouldn't be the first time she had hidden things from me.
"A push?" I asked. Apollyon nodded.
"Stone. A reason for him to get back into the fight." She clarified. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd always thought Stone had grown disillusioned with Blackstone and left of his own free will. Apollyon was the one who sent him away? Mercy threw those thoughts out, mostly.
"I told him of Liam's survival. Framed it so that he'd think I was hiding it from everyone. It worked." She said, my gaze turned to her now. I'm not sure why I bothered, she was just as cold and unreadable as before. Was she honestly okay with this? I knew Blackstone was a brutal legion, willing to utterly decimate villages and fortresses if need be, but all this scheming seemed wrong. Manipulating people like puppets, had this been happening all along?
Then again, had I not done the very same only moments ago? My intentions may have been good, but I had still worked Elania to get ahold of that platter, all so I could get into these chambers. And I'd done it without thinking, without a hint of hesitation. Was it really right of me to judge what Apollyon had done when I had done something so similar? I'd even used the same turn of phrase, just one more push. Perhaps I was more guilty than I liked to admit.
"Why?" Was all I could think. I hadn't realized I'd said it out loud until Apollyon laid a hand on my shoulder, and pulled me along with her. I stepped in tandem with her, resisting the urge to pull away. Mercy followed behind us, and the three of us stopped in front of one of the mounted blades, one that seemed oddly familiar to me. It didn't take long for me to realize it was the sword of Jarl Gudmundr, the leader who defended Svengard.
"These noble wolves delude themselves most of all. They convince themselves they desire nothing more than to wallow among the cowards, and they actually believe it." She said. I observed the sword carefully, taking in every word as she spoke as I connected Godmundr to Liam, which I'm sure was her intention.
"They deny themselves, who they really are, until those sheep that they cherish so deeply are threatened. For these unfortunate souls, only another wolf can show them what they truly are. And I will gladly give them that revelation." She explained. I didn't know what to think. I knew Apollyon sought war, and for so long I stood by her. I thought that a stronger people, one hardened by war and death, could better stand against the tides of invaders, the brutes that would ravage them. Everyone had to stand and fight, that's what I believed in. This, this wasn't that. I wasn't sure what it was.
And I had no idea what to do with those revelations...