Food was rationed sparingly as could be, giving hardly enough to count as a meal, to each and every Drow, throughout the day. Still, they were granted properly cooked and healthy food, prepared by the priestesses who resided in Ferin. Though small, they were given chunks of meat, vegetables, and bread, more than they could ask, when they had first expected watered down glop or molded scraps, that even the crows would avoid eating. For the most part, they were thankful and humble.
As for the temple servants, the knights and priestesses remained in Ferin for days on end, not having returned or seen their families since they were first dispatched. The only ones to go between Ferin and Innah'vadah, were the ships carrying supplies.
From the stretching pier of Innah'vadah's coast, a handful of boats were being loaded with cargo. Chester oversaw the handling of the cargo and delivery, trusted by his lord to ensure the right supplies were delivered efficiently. As his lord's steward, he did all that he could to ease the pressure on his lord's shoulders, even just a little bit.
Three of the ships set off to sail up the coast to Ferin. Once docked, the cargo was unloaded and supplies were taken by workers to be distributed. Every single worker, man and temple servant, was required to wear protective gear. They were covered, even wearing masks and gloves, and were careful to not come into contact with the Drow unless needed.
Afterward, the boats and crates were washed before being loaded back onto the boats to be sailed back. Paranoid as he was, Erik understood the dangers of new diseases being introduced to a new continent, and he himself feared being inflicted by such diseases, as they would surely rampage about his mortal form. Thus, he took every precaution to ensure this wouldn't happen, yet even he could not see everywhere, blind to every alleyway and corner of the city, not in his view.
At the high rise of the sun, a sickly male Drow fell to the ground, coughing. He was heavily riddled with sickness, that within moments, would end his life in the shadows an alleyway, hidden just barely from view. His body wouldn't be found until later that evening, his rotting corpse, reeking of shit and sewage. Flies swarmed his body, and the people who'd found him, merely felt depressed at the sight of him.
His body was dragged out from the alleyway, and he was carried away by the Drow. They brought him to the north edge of the city, just on the outskirts where the buildings ended, and the earth remained. They dug a grave to bury him within, giving the befallen elf a traditional Drowvish ceremony, random elves who knew not the deceased's name, but still saw to it that he was laid to rest. Soon, word would spread of the event, reaching even the ears of the lord, who was in the midst of documentation.
"My lord." The knight, at a distance, greeted him. "One of the Drow was buried, seemingly having died from illness."
Hearing this, Erik stood still with only his finger remaining in motion, tapping, in repeat upon the wood. "Is that so... The bodies of the deceased were to be cremated. Were they not properly informed?"
"Upon confronting and questioning those involved, we learned that they knew, but ignored your orders. They stated that it was the Drowvish way to send off the dead with a proper ceremony, or else they leave their brethren to be damned."
"I see... To be respectful of their culture, would be to leave it be, but that body is plagued with disease. Fuck their wishes. Dig up the body, burn the corpse and the soil. Those involved who actively ignored my commands are to be executed. If they beg for mercy and forgiveness, they will be forgiven. But ensure that they know, my forgiveness for such an act, will only be granted once."
"Yes, my lord. Your words shall be known."
As he ordered, the body was dug up, and burned, along with the very soil, contaminated by disease. The shovels as well, were thrown to the pits of fire to be cleansed, an event that took hold in the afternoon with any and all allowed to bear witness. Many taking offense to the desecration and the defiling of the dead. Still, order was held, with those who had gone against his words, being used as an example.
The gruesome sight of them being dragged through the streets by rope was witness to the public. They were stripped of their clothing to be shamed, and were beaten, though softly enough to not kill them outright.
("This is the punishment to those who disobey Lord Fall. His word is law, his right divine! What he speaks, is the word of father to us all! To ignore the words of one's father, is to act rebelliously against good intentions. Punishment is to be granted to sinners who put in danger, us all. Your actions have brought about potential harm to not only our sons and daughters, but ourselves, our husbands, our wives, our kin and neighbor. It is you who sought to harm us with your rebellious acts, but our lord believes in forgiveness to those deserving. Accept your punishment, knowing that it is deserving, and ask for forgiveness in promise that you shall do better!") The sinners took their punishment, though it could not be said they took it willingly. Some begged for mercy, others gritted their teeth in spite, while others simply cried out in pain. By the end of their beating, the knight in charge of their execution and punishment, approached them one after the other to ask ("Do you repent?")
("No.") The elf said rebelliously, before his head toppled over onto the ground and his body fell back in a pool of blood. The others did not follow in his footsteps, thus being forgiven for their mistakes. Fear would put in line the people, though resentment would linger close behind. The Drow would find difficulty in accepting the way they were treated. They found the dark elves who'd forsaken their own culture, the title of Drow, for being Fallenic and Innah'vadahns, were traitors to their own kind, though there were those who accepted the Fallenic teachings, and sought allowance into Innah'vadah, a name that had become known as a promised land of sorts, that offered a happy life. However, few were able to see their way into Innah'vadah, causing contempt among the people.
That night, Erik returned home just in time to join his wives for dinner. He entered into the dining room and took his seat at the end of the table, his three wives sitting at his side. Astra and Kalia were both doting on their children. Feriah and Sarmin, as well, were in attendance, along with the priestess who had been assigned to look after Sarmin Thally'ah as a lady-in-waiting. They sat a seat away.
Erik was content in sitting down to a meal with his wives, but before he could even lift up his spoon, the rage filled tone of Sarmin, accused him from across the table.
("You desecrated a grave!")
Hearing this, Erik's hand hovered over his utensils momentarily, before he placed his palm down against the edge of the table. He lifted his eyes to look up at her, who was scowling at him. His eyes drifted to her serving priestess at her side, who avoided the whole ordeal by focusing on her meal. Still, Erik assumed correctly.
("The deceased was riddled with disease. Leaving it be would have harmed many.")
("It is not right to desecrate a grave. It will upset the spirit of those who passed. It is a terrible thing that only a monster would do. Like the Highborn, who threw my people into the ocean. Their spirits will forever remain in agony. Do you not know the simplest of things?")
("What is a spirit, if not just a soul. When the body dies, the soul is released, and a broken soul is scattered into the wind. There are no mortal spirits able to hold their form. Your claims are baseless.")
("You speak as though you know the secrets of life after. You know nothing.")
("I know it all, beyond, and more, than you, girl.")
("How could you possibly?!") She raised her voice, slamming her palm against the table in a shake of everyone's plates. Everyone looked to her, though Kalia and Astra were unable to understand fully what she was saying.
"Erik, what is she so upset about?" Kalia asked amidst their conversation.
("How could you?") Erik finished, prompting Sarmin to become speechless, yet with a still lingering anger. She stood up from her seat, leaving without finishing her food. Priestess Eva'lana followed behind, leaving Erik to turn to Kalia in finally answering her. "One of the Drow died was buried by the people. I had my men dig up the body and burn it. Burials of the dead are quite sacred to the Drow, thus she is upset."
The expressions of Astra and Kalia showed their understanding of Sarmin's anger, but regardless, they chose to support their husband's decision.
"You only did what was right." Astra commented.
"Yes... You did." Kalia muttered in agreeance, prompting a somewhat surprising look from Erik.
"You agree, Kalia."
"To desecrate the dead is... A terrible thing. However, I will side you my husband, believing he has his reasons."
"How mature of you. ...Will you not ask what those reasons are?"
"It is not my place."
"It is. You are my wife, Kalia. If it is not your place to ask of me, questions, then it would be no one's.
"Then why?"
"The elf died of a disease. I had the body dug up and burned so that the disease wouldn't fester further. Even the soil that encompassed the corpse was purified."
"Did it have to be burned?"
"Yes."
"Then you made the right decision. Husband." Kalia said as she sipped her tea with a calm demeanor. The way she spoke was clear and dignified, and even her expression and gaze were consistent with that of a mature woman, despite the contrast of her youthful appearance and short stature that would lead many to believe she had barely stepped through the doorway of adulthood from teenage adolescence. Seeing this sight of his wife, who had grown before he'd even realized, was enough to bring a smile to Erik's face; a smirk, humored by the fact of the matter.
"Look at you." He said almost jokingly. "Acting like Queen Charlotte from the Symphony of Hunderdance. I see you read it."
Kalia's shoulders jumped up. Her freckled cheeks turned a slight red, and her eyes widened in embarrassment. "I-I, don't know what you are talking about."
"Your Common has come a long way. I am proud, Kalia. Your diligence and effort has bore fruit."
"Yes... Thank you." Shyly, she turned away scratching her neck, but she was unable to fully hide the grin on her face.
The coming days would continue in steady progress. More of the population had converted to Fallenism and had began learning Common, and the ravages of disease were slowly but surely being quelled. However, an unfortunate turn of events would hinder the progress being made.
"My lord." His loyal knight came with daunting news. "It would seem that there are elves preaching their old faith in the market streets."
"What are they saying exactly?"
"They claim to the people that you are an oppressor, and that they must regain their old culture by rebelling. They say that the true rulers of Drow should be none other than Drow. He lies, claiming that the last of the royal lineage is your prisoner. There have been a count of four different incidents throughout the city to my knowledge. The culprits have been apprehended. Your orders, my lord?"
Erik remained unfazed by the news, though he understood the arising problems. "Bring one of them to me." He ordered, at which one of the culprits would then be brought before him, minutes later.
It was a woman, to his surprise, old, with fizzled white hair, and missing teeth. She feared for her life, already on the verge of exasperating which was only elevated by being forced to kneel before him, who was sitting in a chair before her.
She pleaded in Drowvish, even slipping in some words of Common in repetition of the one of the only words she'd learned. "Please! Please! Beg! I beg!"
Suddenly, she felt as though she were being suffocated as her voice was taken from her. The tent fell quiet as only his voice could be heard.
("You will answer my questions as I ask them if you want to keep your fingers.") The pure malice in his threat felt like a cold knife against her neck. She shuddered in horror, giving him what he wanted, unable to lie without him knowing. She would be allowed to leave later that hour, missing only two fingers; a price for her attempts. Soon after, Erik and two of his knights would emerge from the tent. "Go. Find the elves responsible, and make an example out of them." His knights would do as told, leaving his side as he made his way through the field, clearing his throat in cough as he did.
That evening, he returned to his palace, throwing logs into the cold hearth, and lighting them ablaze with magic. He bathed himself clean before having a drink, taking with him some snacks to the library where he then searched for a book in the corner of the room. Finding one, he took it off the shelf and sat down to read, propping up the novel with one hand, and reaching into the bowl with his other. He would only read for a few moments, before finishing with his momentary rest and returning to his work. However, in his return down the hall, his vision suddenly blurred and his breathing became unsteady. He felt dizzy, near to the point that he almost fell to the floor, but he was able to regain his sense momentarily. He leaned against his knees, his eyes wide as he breathed heavily through his nostrils. He noticed now, that he was sweating quite a bit, wiping away at his forehead. The tips of his fingers were covered in moisture. He could guess as to what was happening, but he feared it to be true. His expression turned grim, replacing the cold and calculative young man that he was, with a terrified version of himself. A momentary lapse that would soon find it has no place before him.
With a clear and long inhale, Erik composed himself as best he could.
Feriah, Marasia, Kalia, Astra, Sarmin, and Priestess Eva'lana, had all walked to the Fallenic Path to pick flowers, and were just returning to the palace. Yet, from a distance, they had realized upon looking ahead, that the palace was up in flames, encompassed and set ablaze in azure flames. Unholy and beautiful would best describe the unnatural existence, a fire of magic, that within moments of its existence, consumed the palace down to the very ground at which its foundation laid. The whole of the city was able to bear witness to the act and rushed to the palace remains.
Amidst it all, in the wreckage of the remaining pillars and bricks that were soon snuffed out, Erik stood. His clothes had burned away and shfi'nyl engulfed him. It protected, surrounded, and clothed him, taking shape into armor that covered him from head to toe, as though to trap himself within, so that none may look upon even his eyes. A single, bleak exhale, escaped from the cracks of his forming helmet, before silence.