Thanatos stood in his room, alone. He sat his war scythe against the table gingerly, the necrotic power still lingering in his blade. He never thought that he would be forced to use such power against a little girl. What was she? She sensed that she was not normal, something was different, but he thought nothing of it going into the dual. Then he saw it, two souls in one body, one far more powerful, stronger than the one before it. Though Dulmont was a paladin, she could have rather easily killed him if he had not been properly prepared. Not only that, but she forced him to use that power. The power he thought only reserved for the mighty, the strong. The godslayers and their ilk. Not some little girl who barely trained to swing a stick around.
He swung his fist against the wall, making his entire room shake ever so briefly. Anger toiled, stirring avra within him.
"How dare she," he snarled. "I shall bring death upon her, I swear it."
"Death?" he heard a voice, startling him. He felt no other presence in the room, not like anything could just slip past him. But he is sure he heard someone, or something, speak. He looked about his room before his sight settled on a tall mirror in the corner of the room. Dulmont had covered it, though he doesn't remember why exactly. He was not one to use them all that often, but he had an odd feeling when he arrived that he was better off without them. But that was where the voice came from. Slowly he walked towards it, taking the cloth covering from its surface to reveal what was beneath it. William was met with the visage of Thanatos. Not himself, Thanatos, the spirit of death whose power he now wields. Black robes hung off the frame of a worn-out-looking young man. Short black hair did not hide a hauntingly beautiful face that settled somewhere between impatience and dissatisfaction. In his left hand, he held a black sword radiating with dark power, And upon his back was a great set of black raven wings. A set of chains hung from either wrist and one around his neck; the physical manifestation of what bound the two of them together.
Dulmont took a cautious step back. It hurt just looking at him, like his presence was searing his very soul from the inside out. "You're not . . . supposed to be here."
"Aren't I?" he asked. "You can not fully separate me from my duties, mortal. I do not belong to you. As long as any of you wield my abilities, I shall haunt you till your final breath."
"Damacius Concord," Dulmont said. "It's what you did to him?"
Thanatos gave no response, just a small hollow smile that infected his straight expression. "For three thousand years, I lay dormant, my purpose stripped from me yet again by you mortals. The world is infested with spirits, as inferior beings take my place. I will destroy each and every one of you till I return to my rightful place."
"You have no rightful place," Dulmont said, but he winced again, nearly falling to his knees if he didn't steady himself against the mirror's surface. It was cold to the touch, almost burning. He looked up to see Thanatos in the same position, his hand touching his own, hunched over as they stared eye to eye. "You belong to me. Your power . . . is mine forever more. I am William Dulmont."
"No mortal should wield my power," Thanatos warned. He lifted his sword and stabbed at the glass surface, the black blade leaving only a scratch on its surface, but the sound was deafening within his mind. "Neither man nor god. If you do not release me, I will destroy you. And the one after. Again and again. Degraded into a shambling husk, like all others. You will simply be another poor soul handed this ill power."
"You're wrong," Dulmont's voice wavered. "I'm chosen. I will not fall for your tricks. You will bow before my will."
Thanatos gave only a brief pause, that careless expression across his face seeming to take his words in. Then, his eyes flared with an intensity that threatened to knock him off his feet. His sword raised over his head, prepared to strength. "Then you shall die."
Dumont's brain pulsed in pain as he was forced to steady himself on the mirror. He yelled as he could see Thanatos' blade seep through the mirror's surface and attempt to strike him. In a panic, he punched the mirror, allowing it to shatter into a million pieces all around him. He took in ragged breaths as he backed away. He could hear the thousands of faint voices of the dead whispering to him, only somewhat dissipating as he managed to catch his breath. He held the sides of his temples. Surely Thanatos couldn't have actually harmed him there, right? What was he thinking? He looked down again at the pile of mirror shards, millions of reflections of himself, staring in abject horror. And sitting amongst these shards was a black blade with a white leather bound handle. Its glossy obsidian surface reflected Thanatos' cold stare. Thanatos stared at the blade as if it was going to come alive and attack him once again. But after gathering the will, he went to pick it up.
Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. He recoiled, feeling as if he had been yanked from a deep sleep. He recognized the knocking pattern, a signal it was one of his own attendants. He looked back at the mirror to see that it was completely undamaged. The sword and the shards were gone, and he was looking at his own reflection.
"Sir?"
"Come in," he cleared his throat. "Come in now."
The door opened, and a single woman dressed as a Hall attendant came inside and bowed immediately before him. He was confused, and there should be at least seven more here, two of which were makhai. "Where are the others?"
The attendant was silent for a moment before answering. "It would seem that I am the only one here, sir."
Dulmont growled. "The Blac Hand. Send word to Nekona for reinforcements, and we will rid ourselves of his pestering."
"Very well, sir," she said. "Shall I also send word of our current proceedings as well? I believe she would want to be informed about-"
"No," he snapped. "If word of my failures gets out, they will surely have my head. Do not presume to know what our master should and should not know lest you wish to forfeit your life."
"Yes sir," they bowed their head. "I shall leave at night and get word to our line of communication."
"This is a setback," Dulmont pondered. "But we can still pull something out of this. We still have our influence over royalty, and as long as those godlings are unaware, we still hold the edge over them. We must wait till the right time."
"The right time?" The spy asked.
"The next meeting," he said. "In five days we shall reach the conclusions, there we shall make our final move. I will destroy Theurgy if it is the last thing I do. I can not fail."
(X)
Moxie took a deep breath. At this point, the familiar scents of the sea were comforting to her. She has spent more than a majority of her life out here. Ever since she, Blij, Tug, and Rali escaped the clutches of the madmen known as Vance and Laura Smithe, they had been running from the past ever since, indulging themselves in the freedoms and fortunes that only the sea could provide. Collecting other free spirits who wished to seek the bounties of the trade. Though they were mercenaries, thieves, and scoundrels, their camaraderie and familiarity were what satiated them, and their loyalty is more than proven. They even fought a god together; what more could come to test their dedication? Even though her crew knew little of the dealings with these gods and their meaning to the world, they followed Moxie, no matter where she decided to go.
But perhaps things will change here. They shall be reaching Antalya in the coming days to meet with the now Prince Lyse Opal and the Viceroy Captain Vivian. As Moxie looked out to either flank of the Nautilus Omega, a fleet of worker's vessels, some battleships interspersed between them. An army of builders and architects, traders and soldiers alike in the first of many attempts to rebuild Antalya into what it once was. Queen Lizbeth has sent Admiral Moxie Smithe to go and secure their hold on the recently acquired Antalya in the efforts to restore it as a trade port. Many people were excited about this endeavor. Though other ports have absorbed the traffic that would come to Antalya, its location alone made it an optimal point for many vessels to stop, rest, and trade. All it takes is a little push for it to flourish once more. But Moxie and a few others knew the real reason why they were here. Word of their escape of Vance was spreading fast, along with the spectacle of a flying metal ship and a sudden prison break. The Queen's leave to the Wild Halls, along with the mysterious Diamond, provided the opportune chance for such a thing to occur in the first place. Whoever these people were who assaulted the prison fortress sparked such a commotion, and they wondered if the queen is aware of this dark threat now let loose upon the world. Moxie knew this was the reason that she was sent to Antalya. If there were any place where Talin would try and take hold of for its war, Antalya would be a prime target.
"Captain," Blij came aboard. He had been the mediator and main line of communication between herself and the various other captains under her wings. She can't believe how much pressure he is placed under, as he basically now has to run over forty other ships alongside their own for the time being. Of course, as the head butler of the Smithe household, he was used to commanding armies of attendants. But even so, it terrified her his diligence and unwavering endurance with such things.
"What is it?"
"I've sent word to the war fleet to hang at our tail and cover the Morfellar and Conford straights," he said. "I very much doubt they will find anything, but it's worth a shot."
"Very well," she said. "John told me things in Antalya have calmed down thanks to Lyse and his new friend. Thankfully they didn't flatten half the city in the process."
"I imagine that we will have our work cut out for us," he said. "He could be anywhere in the southern seas at this point. And your mother . . ."
"She isn't my concern at this moment," she said with a heavy tone.
Blij looked at her. Her closed-off and guarded expression were hard indeed to see through. But he has known this little girl since before she could walk. She was trying her best to keep the epiphany that Laura Smithe has been alive and in hiding all this time out of her mind. For now, Vance will have to suffice, as she did not wish to dwell on the ramifications of her mother's words. the music box still lies in her chambers, and he knows she has been listening to it over and over again.
"Vance wants me to find him," Moxie said.
"How do you know that?" he asked.
"You should have seen him in there, Blij," she turned to him. "The bastard relishes my suffering. It's his bread and mead. I nearly killed him, I should have killed him when I transformed. But even in his own demise, he knows he has proven that I am his ultimate creation. A weapon. A freak."
"You're not a freak," Blij told her. "You don't owe that man any sort of mind."
"I will kill him, Blij," she said. "The only thing that troubles me is how many bodies will he leave behind before I do so."
(X)
Vance stepped off onto the makeshift docks of the small island they stationed him. He looked back at the wreckage of the ship that had carried him this far, sinking beneath the rising waves, swallowed by the deep. He is surprised that it has made it this far. the craftsmanship was not as shabby as he originally pegged it to be. If they had a good power source and better raw materials, it could have been a worthwhile venture. Then again, he knows the resources of Talin are quite vast. They may provide him with enough entertainment. Then again, looking at his accommodations, he could be mistaken in that assessment. The first thing he saw stepping off the boat was a run-down little fishing shack. He wrinkled his nose at the idea of this place being his home for any significant amount of time. Then again, no doubt much of his belongings left in the Smithe Manor is either destroyed, stolen, or confiscated by Lizbeth by now. He doesn't even know if the manor was standing at all at this point. Would Moxie choose to have it destroyed? Vance finds himself in a curious circumstance, and he relishes the mountain of possibility he now has.
The woman with the golden spear kept surveying him like a hawk. His senses took notice of her vigilance, and it appears he may not be entirely trusted among them quite yet. They need his talents, his mind. If he shows even the slightest hint of incompetence or disobedience, they will try to get rid of them. Even so, this Atalanta seemed different than the others; not human. Perhaps she herself was one of those gods he kept hearing about back when he was associated with Theurgy. He was interested in her physiology, how does she function relative to an average human being, what are her tolerances, and her weaknesses? Does she even bleed red, or feel pain the same way any mortal can? He thought about asking her but vanquished the thought. He no doubt will get eviscerated for even asking. And he doubts they would give him a specimen to test his thoughts upon. For now, his curiosity will go unanswered.
"Tell me," he said. "Will this be the sum of my accommodations here, my lady?"
She sneered. "Call me Atalanta. Though we are equals, I will not tolerate your failures. I am authorized to execute you if you get out of hand."
"That doesn't seem equal at all," he said, not at all perturbed by her gruff words. "Am I privy to such privileges, Atalanta?"
"No," she said plainly.
He sighed. "Very well then. Although if my work is to commence, I do ask for more than a rackety pile of sticks on a small island. An architect such as myself needs a suitable establishment to perform."
She grunted, then gestured to one of the cloaked individuals who was drawing something in the dirt and rocks far away from the shed. He recognized the symbols and Torlakian runes, arranged in a geometric pattern. He was always curious about mages and their little tricks. To alchemists like himself, they used fundamental elements of avra to perform quite grand accomplishments. But he couldn't help but feel that they were only scratching the surface of what it is capable of, even creating laws and regulations to halt their advancements. There is more there, he can feel it. As the mage concluded, however, he felt a rumble echoing deep beneath the earth. It was faint at first, perhaps unnoticeable to most but it came to the point that birds began fluttering off the trees as even the pebbles scattered at their feet. The shed seemed unaffected but then began to rise as a mound of earth bulged upwards from within the island. He understood immediately what this meant. Before his eyes, he saw an entire building rise from beneath the surface, caked in dirt and gravel from many years within the ground. It was an entire fortress hidden from view.
"This is where you shall work from," she told him. "Faye, here, will give you the key to move it from within the heart any time you wish. But you will spend the majority of your time below, and out of sight. No doubt the godlings will scour the Southern seas for you."
"Very well," he said, offering his elbow. "I suppose this will do. Please, would you give this old man a tour of his new home?"
(X)
"Are you satisfied, Poulus?" Celia asked as she sat along with the others in his private chambers. Makyra, John, and the Diamond stood guard outside the room to ensure that no other soul would hear about this conversation.
Poulus sat on his own bed, looking at the three individuals before him carefully. He has always assumed some connection between these people beyond the ancient ties that hold them all. King James was a figure of great mystique to the others, especially before taking up his father's crown and leading Liontar out of the civil war. His relationship with Queen Lizbeth and Grandmaster Remmus had been apparent, all of them gaining their positions rather quickly around the same time. And when Celia became his successor, the wife of James' late friend, that confirmed that something united these people. He can not believe that something like this is what lurked in the shadow of his people's history. The words they speak were utter nonsense to him, these stories of men who have stayed hidden, feeding off the underbelly of the empire, not the world at large. It was terrifying. And he refused to believe such a thing, let alone condone their actions to investigate such foolish things. And yet, he saw it with his own eyes. they all did. During that duel with Celia's own daughter, the man known as William Dulmont released a power that was not of this world. They all felt it, neither mage nor knight was responsible for that aura of death that he created and the inhuman actions he took before the collection of Thirian royalty.
"Gods," he spoke softly. "Such a thing is the case. Forgive me if I . . . need time to process its meaning properly."
"Well, I hope you process this rather quickly," Lizbeth told him. "Our enemy will not wait for us to catch up to them. We must act before it is too late."
"We have made the precautions you all suggested," Poulus said. "And as Celia now wields the Black Hand, you now hold the tools necessary for flushing out this disease that has run amok in our empire for far too long."
"If only it were so simply done, Poulus," Celia sighed.
"This disease is not restricted to the empire," Remmus told him. "As far as we know, Talin has influence over much of the civilized world in some form or another. The Nychtan courts are just one example we have found of such corruption. But we can not rule out their plague elsewhere. The outlands, The frostlands, even Shi'Ased isn't safe as far as we know."
"What are their goals?" Poulus asked them. "What is it that these . . . gods want with us mortals?"
They were all silent for a moment. But it was Celia who gave the best answer they could surmise. "In the past, their reasons were clear. To collect power through any means, especially those belonging to these gods. Their methods of infiltration and corruption have merely been to facilitate such endeavors. But it has become clear that something happened. A change of leadership or a shift in structure. Either way, their goals have shifted accordingly, and now they seek total domination over all of Thiria."
"What?" Poulus asked. "For what purpose? They seem to act not like some cabal but an empire of its own."
"Talin has the capability," Remmus said reluctantly. "Always has. But it is more than likely this is a romantic endeavor rather than one born purely out of greed. Your Empire expanded to ensure your security and wealth on the continent. Other kingdoms expand over petty disputes and negotiations. Few conquer for the sake of conquering. But it is even rarer for such a strong ideology to come across the capabilities of Talin. This new leader seeks to spread their influence to quietly take over all of Thiria, perhaps the mortal world at large, even."
"We must act quickly, then," Poulus stood. "Alert every corner of this world of this danger."
"First, we must cleanse the Nychtan courts for their corruption," Lizbeth said. "the Black Hand seems well on his way of doing such a thing."
"Indeed I am."
They all immediately snapped their attention to the corner of the room outside of their periphery. Immediately the door burst open, and the three guardians, now aware of this new presence, briefly looked ready for a fight. But when they saw who it was, they soon lowered their guard. Leaning against the wall, covered in shadows that clung to his cloak, was Gideon. He has not been seen in days. Celia wished to establish a regular interval where he would check in, but apparently, that is not the way of the Black Hand these days. Even the Valorian Knights were baffled by his presence. At least with Remmus, it was apparent when he did slip between their defenses to go as he pleased. But for one man to do so for days on end, staying in the shadows of the Wild Halls was a little more than unnerving. And yet, he was given the full authority to do so as he pleased by the seven crowns due to this recent Duel.
"Heard you all were having a party without me," he said. "Figure I dropped on by to give you peace of mind, something or the other."
"What have you found?" Poulus has asked him, wishing to hear it directly from Gideon himself.
The man scratched his patchy beard. "Well, I got good news, and I got some bad news. The good news is that I located most of those shadowy folk from the attendants working in the Wild Halls. Not an easy feat I must tell you, as they are quite adept at blending in with crowds or evading suspicion of anyone, it seemed. I don't know how many more are left within the court, but It's apparent that they are panicking."
"And I suppose that is where the bad news starts?" Celia asked.
"I came across some more trying to infiltrate the Halls," he said. "They appear to be merely scouts to relay information, but their presence tells me that they intend to use this opportunity to get hands in each of the courts before it's too late for them. That is what I would do at this time."
"It is due to our push, I suppose," Celia spoke softly. "But I am concerned. I would have expected they pull all of their men from the courts entirely to conserve human resources and reduce suspicion. This is far too risky of a ploy, especially when the Nychtan court is under such heavy suspicion."
"Perhaps," Gideon said. "But this here ain't a rational response. If Dulmont is their commander here, then he should be sweating his own superiors. That duel will be considered a failure. He needs to win something back so that their time spent here isn't entirely meaningless, or his neck may be on the line. I fear that getting their toes in all the courts, eyes and ears wise, is the best they can do at the moment."
"We have already made precautions," Remmus said. "But we must see to it that they receive no support from the outside in any form till we can do away with Thanatos."
"And how do you suppose we do that?" Gideon asked him.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. They were all silent for but a moment as one of the guardians opened the door, and in stepped Novia. She had been during up security around the Wild Halls for the past week and a half with the other paladins for more obvious threats. She bowed, addressing everyone in the room, including the Black Hand.
"Greetings, Lady Novia; a pleasure to see you here now of all times," Poulus said cautiously.
"Do not worry, she is aware of our dealings," Celia said nonchalantly.
"I see," he said, looking at her. "This Talin and their god warriors are true."
"Unfortunately so," she said. "I'm here so they do not further damage the Seven crowns or the Empire at large. Merely direct me, and I shall go."
"Excellent," Gideon patted her on the shoulder. "Looks like we're partners for the time being."
Novia grimaced at Celia. "He can not be serious your majesty."
"For the time being," Celia declared. "You and your rangers will assist in the apprehension of these scouts and wherever they collect their information. They must have such a place nearby to communicate with their leaders."
"I can do such a thing without the aid of this man, My Lady," Novia said.
"Come now," Gideon said. "It's rare for the Rangers to be taught a lesson or two, Novia. Why not combine our talents to aid in the security of our Empire."
She sighed heavily. "Normally, I would decline such offers. But if my lady does command me so, then I must oblige, Black Hand."
"Call me Gideon," he said. "It's going to get really repetitive calling me that, trust me."
"Very well then," Celia said. "I expect results from the two of you; do not disappoint."
"Steady yourselves," Gideon told them. "For when have I ever failed expectations?"
(X)
Massia slowly awoke. Every part of her ached, from her arms and legs to her chest and head. A consequence of pushing the body too far, she supposed. She could barely turn her neck to see where she even was. She appeared to be in her own room, lying in the darkness, only a sliver of morning light breaching through the curtained windows. Slowly she rose, the blankets set upon her felt made of lead, given her current state. Cuts and bruises adorned her, and the aches of broken bones slowly mended. Because of avra, her healing was far greater than normal people. But even still, fractured ribs won't be healed fully for about a week or two, she may stay bay ridden at least for the time being. Which was perfectly fine with her, she did not wish to see the world she had left. She rocked her brain to remember what had occurred. The duel with Thanatos, how did she survive it? Not only did she endure, she actually won. She had never felt more terrified in her life, she was sure that he was going to kill her even. And yet, she still fought that monster. Despite how she felt she faced him down. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her slow and steady heartbeat. And much to her surprise, she felt no ache nor coldness left there.
"How did I?" she spoke to herself, can not help the manifestation of relief upon herself only stifled by her injuries. "I did it. I did it. Vermillia, thank you. I can not. . . Vermillia?"
I am here, child, his voice echoed deep within her mind. It felt fainter than she remembered, appearing far more distant and reserved.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Have you looked at yourself recently, she joked. That fight with Thanatos took a lot out of me. I'm fine. you on the other hand, well your breathing.
"We beat him," Massia said wondrously. "I fought. I punched death in the face Vermillia."
Don't get so full of yourself, child, Vermillia warned. If he hadn't underestimated us, he would have done away with us quickly if given a chance. We are lucky, no more than that.
"Would you just give me this one moment to be happy," Massia pleaded.
Vermillia snorted. "I wish for unconditional, absolute victory, child. If we were in a proper duel to the death, I doubt the rules would favor us. But sure, you did stare down your fear. Perhaps you can be a little content with yourself."
"I can not thank you enough," Massia said. "It was your courage that allowed me to stand against him."
"Our courage," Vermillia said. "It always existed within you, child. I just reminded you that it was there. Now let's not dawdle, we must train so that we will be ready next time."
"What?"
"you may have 'survived' the duel," she said. "But your form is sloppy and footwork subpar; this will not do. I propose that intensive training and exercise is due for us."
"I have two broken ribs, Vermillia," Massia Protested.
"Such things are not going to impede us," she said. "Now get off your ass. We have work to do."