The view was overflowing with concentrated potency. Formations of armored horsemen commandeered their might with rows of spears. What followed them was at least a dozen heavy cannons, the strongest siege artillery, that would leave no chances for Buranikka's walls. Mages, archers, carriages with food — knights, and soldiers, summing to a thousand, were not so much of a threat against the Confederation as a whole. And yet, what could a small autonomous city do to oppose such a threat? What chance did a few hundred sentries, specializing in shooting bloodthirsty mindless beasts and resolving tribal-scale conflicts, have against such an overwhelming power?
Keyaruga stood on the tall watchtower, gazing at the column with his jade eye, the gift of the star spirit. More than anything else, his attention was drawn to an armored coach pulled by a couple of pinkish unicorns. The very same coach that delivered the newborn Hero of Healing to Capital.
"That's a lot of manpower there. You're not making it easy, my love." The young man deadpanned, assessing the force he had to stand against. The majority consisted of the Sacred Spear Order, Norn's personal army of battle-hardened knights, equipped like almost no other regiment in the kingdom of Jioral. Thirty, thirty-five, and some even reached the level of thirty-eight. The limit of a human's power, backed up by training. They would overwhelm even a hero, should the latter foolishly engage.
Still, no matter how many troops the girl surrounded herself with, the red-haired lad could always toss a spell or two, ending her life here and there. A beam of light, which he so shamelessly stole from Eve Reese, would get the job done. But… he would not. That young, almost childish face awakened so many memories and so much emotion in him that the hero just couldn't help but get swayed, just like in old times. He wanted to keep this warlady at his side, take care of her, and keep her safe from any danger. No matter what she'd done, Norn Clatalissa Jioral was his closest friend, ally, lover, and the mother of his unborn child. For better or worse, not even the deaths of his fellow villagers could change this flame of affection in Keyaruga's chest.
"I will not let you die, Norn. Not again." He whispered, unable to avert his red and green eyes from the second princess. The lad watched closely, as…
Someone addressed the princess through the closed door. A horseman dressed in a leather coat was a redhead just like the young man, but this one was in his forties. He carried a sheathed kurzschwert, the short triangular sword, as a backup weapon on his belt, and a battle-ready bow on his back. Certainly, he looked pale, but his attire was a vestige of at least a dozen hidden tools of mayhem. More than anything else, though, his true power lay in his bright amber eyes. He was Organ Trist, Hawkeye, the last of the three Champions of Jioral, and the most dangerous opponent for the rogue hero.
(https://i.ibb.co/VYNM65S/6c66ac8facddf4c326a8dd07a4b51077-2.jpg
SFW Illustration)
"Your Highness, we are being watched." The warrior spoke softly. There was a whole kilometer between him and the Hero of Healing. A respectable distance, yet nothing his extraordinary sight couldn't handle. "Shall I eliminate the threat?"
"Shall you eliminate the threat?" The pink-haired girl mused with a toxic smile. "Tell me, Organ. Does our little peep look like a red-haired boy with charming red eyes?"
"No, Your Highness. It is an adult man. His eyes seem to differ in color; one is red, the other is green. Although yes, he does have red hair." Hawkeye explained, keeping an eye on the spectator. Surprisingly enough, the latter didn't seem afraid of the attention. He relished in it. After all… "I suspect he has attained observational powers that could probably rival even my own." With that said, the Champion reached for his bow. "I shall exterminate him."
"NO!" The princess snarled, slamming the armored window. "He's… someone I seek here." Although it was highly unreasonable, especially for her, the warlady couldn't help but give the distant looker her hopeful smile. For her, this moment was vaguely the happiest ever since she saw that destined dream. The girl waved at him, through the column of troops, reinforced glass, distance. A simple act, dictated by love, engraved in her very soul. Foolish, yet so desirable. "Tell me, Organ? Does he see me? Does… he recognize me?"
"He…" Before answering, Organ Trist had to contemplate all he knew of Norn, of her current campaign, and of his role in it. Presumably, that was the very same Hero of Healing, guilty of numerous crimes, including the murder of his fellow Champion, Bloodbringer. But he just stood there, waving with the same moronic mirth as the one who was supposed to be the cold-hearted deity of tactics and strategy. "He seems to be saluting you. He says… `thank you… for coming… my love (?)`, if my lip-reading is correct. Your Highness, what is the meaning of this?"
"That, my all-seeing archer, means the whole world!" The second princess replied overjoyed. Then, she sat back on the soft leather seat. What she was about to say further was directed only to one person. One, and only one. I have brought you a gift, my prince. It's riding at the front of this column.
Norn Clatalissa Jioral said it all with only her lips. No word was audible, not even Hawkeye was supposed to know about her plans. Seriously, the only reason she brought that deranged lesbian along was to check her assumption.
"So, Organ? How did he react?" The warlady wondered joyously. She had been waiting for two months for this meeting. And even if they were separated by their allegiances, Norn was still happy. No matter how it would end.
"This man… Hmm, he seems angry, or… I would say he is rather afraid. His posture is shaking, but he still smiles at you. Dare I say, he is about to throw up? Or… he cursed, and…He fled. What a fascinating kid." Hawkeye mused, but this time there was no reaction from the warlady. Or, rather, her apparent indifference was more eloquent than any words she could share.
At the same time, the column of troops was led by a charming blonde fellow. Well, it was actually a woman. Blade, as she called herself, used makeup to make herself appear as masculine as possible. She was armed with Ragnarok, the holy blade capable of empowering its user. There were two reasons, as to why Norn Clatalissa Jioral placed the Hero of Sword as far as possible from herself. First and the most obvious, her hatred toward the mentally unstable woman. She was an embarrassment, a living failure, incapable even of wielding her weapon with any sort of dignity. Blade used her heavy blade with only one hand, lacking any finesse or technique. Again, an obvious point, but not for Josephine herself. A foolish, bigoted, short-sighted beast who cared little for anything beyond her passions. The first one was slaughtering men. Oh, she did like it more than anything. So much so that not a single squad she was in had a positive impression of her. Even if it consisted entirely of women. Especially so…
Speaking of the fairer sex, hunting them was yet another of Blade's passions. Whereas her fighting style lacked mastery, seducing young and foolish girls did not. Her deceiving smile, confident posture, and delicately groomed hair — everything was carefully crafted with the single purpose of being attractive. Did it work? Certainly!
"Look, he's so beautiful!" One of the bystanders was already charmed. A cute lady with wheaty hair under a humble bonnet. She even pushed her friend.
"Yeah… Beautiful." The black-haired lady agreed.
Unlike those two, barely anyone welcomed the intruders. After all, they barely did anything for the old citizens. Jioral abandoned them. And now what? The new denizens of Buranikka knew better than to await anything good. Some would flee, others would fight, but none of the ma-zok tribesmen were expecting anything other than to be slaughtered. To say tensions were high would be an understatement. Did it affect the two lasses?
"Look, look, he's smiling!" With how they reacted to Blade's predatory grin — clearly not. The Hero of Sword was more than capable of enticing people, and that was yet another reason Norn made her the tip of the occupational force.
…
The third floor of the city hall of Buranikka was a sight to behold. A wide hall with marble tiles housed a massive table for at least thirty men. And yet, there were only two of them. One was a balding, pale man in his late forties, wearing a green kaftan. Adrian Mirt was slouching in the wide chair, tackling his restlessness. Another was an armor-clad vampire next to him, his most loyal confidant — Chris Malcolm. This time around, the bloodsucker hid his face under a tophelm, with golden light shining from the cut-outs.
"Well, my friend. Make sure I don't die for nothing." The lord of Buranikka said with barely any optimism. He was allies with six chiefs of local ma-zok tribes. They, along with his wife and son, were more than capable of tackling the problem without him. "Can only hope that rallies our loud band."
"They art here." The vampire said quietly, as the mortal man silently prepared for his martyric fate.
Step. Step. Step. The perfect serenity amplified every subsequent sound. Boots were slapping on the ground; the omen of an inevitable confrontation was at hand. Then…
BAM!
There was a slam. The blonde, masculine woman kicked her way inside.
"Feh! What? Some man built it anyway!" Blade snarled, facing Princess Norn. The swordswoman looked rather indifferent toward her own feat, the audience, everyone who followed her, and everything that would follow after.
"Control your tantrums, child." Hawkeye, on the other hand, scolded the fencer. Unlike her, Organ Trist stayed focused on his mission and aspired to make it right.
"Shut the fuck up, man-swine! I'm not taking orders from dickwips!" And how was it met? Of course, with a middle finger to the face.
"Haa…" The pink-haired warlady resisted the urge to make a facepalm and entered the hall with her eagle-eyed bodyguard.
"Greetings, Your Highness." Adrian Mirt rose from his seat and slightly bowed to the princess before slouching right back in. There was almost no respect in his act. "I am glad to welcome you in my humble study."
"Please, I'm not here for your pretentious courtesy, Adrian." The warlady said, sitting right in front of the man, while the Champion stood beside her. "I have no doubts you've seen our demands. We didn't have to breach your gates after all."
"That's right. And now I have an entire army in the middle of my city." The lord mused with a sincere chuckle in his voice. "Well then, what are you waiting for, Your Warmongering Highness?" And then he just extended his arms, as if waiting for an arrow or sword to murder him.
"Heh, an interesting title. I`ll remember it." For better or worse, though, Norn just rested her booted legs on the table. Her smile, although venomous, betrayed her true joy.
"Hey, can I gut him?" At the same time, Blade remained restless. She walked back and forth, caressing Ragnarok`s handle with a face full of disdain.
"No. Hush!" The princess hissed, as if reprimanding an ill-behaved dog. But words alone would prove ineffective. They had to be told in a very specific manner.
"Ugh, as you say, F… Norn…" Although the hero lacked self-restraint, she still listened to the princess. She looked much like her beloved Flare; she even mimicked her when necessary, and that was enough for her.
"Well then, let's start our negotiations. Since you've been so kind as to provide my troops with accommodations, dare I say you've agreed to my offer?" The warlady inquired playfully. Adrian received her letter, and the unsealed scroll was resting on his side of the table.
"An offer? Or an ultimatum?" The ruler countered, offering the piece of paper to Chris Malcolm… for burning it in the purple flames. "Enlighten me, what makes you think I would betray my people and become a slave to Jioral`s ambitions?"
"It is inevitable. I am a warmonger, the best warmonger out there. And, as it stands now, you can`t stop me. You lack manpower, firepower, resources, logistics, unity, and Faran knows what else. And yet, here I am, giving you a fair choice — accept my offer and live in peace. Refuse, and you may not see the end of the day. You have no other choice here, Adrian Mirt of Buranikka." Norn graciously declared. Should the lord play along, he would not only save his place but also assume control over the bordering regions. For the sake of Jioral`s invasion.
"Indeed. I… have no other choice but to refuse. Whatever fate awaits me, this is adamant. You may have passed into my walls freely, but taking Buranikka will be a different story." The man said, slamming his palms by the table. "You may have an advantage in numbers, but ask yourself this — do you have conviction? Do your men even know what they are fighting for? Robbing and plundering can only take you so far!" He elaborated and judgingly pointed his finger at the young leader. A brave gesture, yes, but a risky one.
"How sad. You wouldn`t deal with a devil, right?" Fortunately, the warlady was completely self-aware of her misdeeds. Moreover, she reveled in them. The girl smiled.
"I know your tactics. You really are cruel, Princess Norn, but a devil? No." Adrian Mirt replied with a sly grin of his own. "If you aim to kill me, do it now."
"Gladly!" Blade replied, releasing her massive sword from the exotic sheath on her back. Hawkeye wasn't far behind with his bow, and Chris Malcolm braced himself to engage the two.
"STAND DOWN, YOU TWO!!!" For better or worse, though, the warlady stopped them with an unbelievably willful yell. "Josephine, go for a walk."
"But, Your Highness…"
"Go. For. A. Walk!" Norn said as coldly as she could, with an intimidating accent on each spoken word.
"Gh… All… All right." And it worked. Why? Because it was an obvious imitation of Norn`s hated sister Flare. The despicable chunk of hubris for some, and the shining idol for others. Blade was among the latter. But even so, she took a long detour. Slowly and awkwardly, she approached another of Norn`s confidants. "Your daughter will be mine, maggot." The parody of a fencer, no matter how unskillful she was, knew how to make an impression. Whether it was admiration…
"Never." …or a cold disdain. To say Organ Trist was a cold-blooded person would not count as an exaggeration, yet there he was, viciously creaking his teeth, stuck between duty and the drive to murder the psycho here and now.
"Josephine! What part of `go for a walk` don't you understand?" Alas for Buranikka, before the blaze of conflict fully ignited, Norn`s regal voice extinguished it. "Out, Josephine!"
And so it ended. A small spark of infighting among the princess` troops. Blade could never work well with men. Hell, she even aggravated women with her uncontrollable temper tantrums. In all honesty, even Norn`s control was not perfect. Fortunately, it didn't have to be…
"Thee sure knoweth how to handle thy mongrels." The armored vampire behind the lord spoke after the Hero of Sword pathetically left the premise.
"I'll take it as a compliment." The girl sneered, gesturing for Hawkeye to lower his bow. Then she turned to the ruler of the city. "Now, let's return to the devil thing. Bastard, bitch, whore`s shit pile, useless crap, rotten blood, twerp, living abortion — I`ve been called all sorts of names, and you would flatter me by calling me a devil, Adrian."
"An interesting take on names. Which, I`ll admit, does not do much in justifying your atrocities, princess Norn."
"It`s called a genocide, my friend. Expand your vocabulary." The warlady sneered, tapping her boots by the table. Even without a hero by her side, she felt overwhelmingly advantageous.
"Wording changes little. At the end of the day, you`re expecting me to sell out my own people for you to slaughter, so that there could be even more deaths ahead. It is unacceptable for me, no matter how big of a bribe you offer." The man stated, suspiciously watching at the windows. "May I ask you a question?"
"Go on, hit me." Norn responded smugly. She knew what was going on and took at least three preliminary steps. Either way, two men on the other side exchanged glances prior to the lord's frowning nod.
"Do you fear death?" Adrian asked, holding his breath still.
"Not so much. I'm rather afraid of failing to leave a worthy legacy." Norn replied, as her legs stopped. For some reason, she couldn't help but remember Keyaru`s face. The face she had supposedly never seen. "My turn, huh? Say, Adrian, what is the main reason for wars? The seed of all conflicts?"
"Hate." The governor answered instantly.
"And what do you think, gardener?" Slightly unimpressed by his response, the girl asked the vampire`s opinion.
"Power." The bloodsucker was not thrilled to play in Norn`s little game, but he still shared his opinion, formed by dozens of years in an unchanging body.
"Closer, much closer. Organ?" And obviously…
"It is faith, Your Highness." Obviously, the archer disappointed the princess as well.
Ultimately, it was her turn. Princess Norn gracefully took a straight pose in her chair before starting a monologue.
"Now let me share my idea. Economics. Have you ever wondered, what makes countries grow? Expansion and conquest! That is what ultimately makes an empire. An unavoidable path. You can get strong by murdering others, be it a beast or a man, but that doesn't change the fact that you need to eat. A soldier, an adventurer, a hero even — they all need something to gobble, and countries need land to provide food. You know what else is needed?"
"A cheap labor force. Slaves." Adrian spoke grimly.
"Precisely. It's an endless cycle of conquest and plundering, dictated by our technical and social stagnation. We can do better than this. I can lead us to a brand new world, where conquering would be just as advantageous as jumping off a cliff, where culture and craftsmanship will become the new gold for everyone, and where kings are no longer needed." She elaborated, drawing two unconvinced pairs of eyes. Organ Trist, a man of religious bias, heard all the arguments but listened to none. And Adrian Mirt…
"And people will still murder each other out of spite and bigotry. Your perfect world stands on death and destruction, and it will not stop feeding upon them. You talk about craftsmanship, but it needs resources. Just as wheat needs fields."
"Resources, you need specialists to harvest, not just uninspired thralls or peasants. Have you ever been to our Capital? Our single factory produces more goods than all of your local craftsmen combined! By the time I finish, war will be a completely illogical and counterproductive endeavor, and warmongers like me will fade from history completely. It's that simple." Norn proclaimed with excitement. "I lead this war to stop all future wars!"
"A war against Tenanulic, to be specific. A war against us. And the new world at our expense. If not for that, I may have shaken your hand, princess. Perhaps…" Then, the man stopped halfway through. It took him a couple of seconds to think about the next phrase. He needed something strong. "Have you… ever loved someone, Princess Norn?"
"I…" And it worked, such a simple question made her stumble a little. If the warlady had to answer two months ago, there would be no place for hesitations. She closed her heart, even her mother was long since mourned and even forgotten. And what's now? A man, who presumably turned the time itself backwards? A lingering feeling, ruining the great tactician`s emotional integrity? "…have no…"
"Your Highness!" Before the girl could answer, an unassuming figure entered the hall. Hawkeye stood right between the two and made a few assuming gestures. The soldier made a few of his own. A unique sign language only Jioral`s elite was taught. Norn was among them. Every consequent movement filled her with more and more of… pure joy.
"Enough, you`re dismissed." The girl stated, turning to Adrian Mirt and his armored ally. "You asked if I ever loved. I did, and I still do! But that changes absolutely nothing! Especially with your assassination squads terminated by an anonymous benefactor. Believe it or not, the gentleman with black ears, who presumably was going to assassinate me, just happens to be dead, and my troops have no involvement in this fact. Amusing! Oh, and the black powder kegs you so kindly set here were safely extracted, so you and I have yet another day to live."
"…" Adrian Mirt`s mask of confidence cracked as his elbow crashed into the table. It was lost. The only possibility to decapitate the enemy force was lost.
"Shalt we battle?"
"I am ready for a little brawl."
With the Lord`s plan falling into shambles, only Chris Malcolm could openly stand against the Champion of Jioral. He even summoned his ethereal dagger. Both warriors expected a signal, whether from their leaders, or from each other. For Norn it was a perfect chance to take the enemy`s king from the desk. An opportunity…
"Leave the building, Adrian. Take your bloodsucker and you may live." …she chose not to use.
"Leave? Live? Would that be an act of the devil?" The governor asked with a feeble voice. He raised from his chair and approached the window, from which an arrow had to pass right to Norn`s heart.
"You amused me, Adrian. You said we lack conviction. So I want to witness yours on the battlefield. Prove to me that your demons can prevail." The warlady spoke with gentle smugness.
"What if you lose?" The lord of Buranikka asked, facing the princess. While he was alive, the man could rally his allies under a single banner. Their victory, however overwhelmingly unlikely it may seem, would ensure the city`s survival. But if not…
"Unlikely." Organ Trist noted harshly. Despite everything, he was a Champion, and would not allow the army he was in to taste defeat. And while there was little to no comfort in Hawkeye`s uncaring voice, Norn aimed to use him to the fullest. No matter if her ideals would clash with that of his.
"I will learn. And if I die, that would only mean I`m not worthy to be a harbinger of a new era." She deadpanned, putting both of her palms behind the head. Keyaru, it was he who murdered her killers. Nobody else, no matter how powerful they had been, would care about saving their ultimate enemy. You`re such a moron, my prince. That means Flare is also somewhere out there… "You two, away, before I changed my mind. Now!"
…
Keyaruga casually strolled through alleyways. There were no more eyes to peek on him, only the occasional bystanders, completely uncaring toward another passing human. He disposed of a bloodied rag and sheathed his alloyed saber. One glance at Blade was enough to make him unstable and make the man spit curses and bitterness. But what made him focus was the danger to Norn. He single handedly eliminated three assassination groups, and the fact that they mostly consisted of black dogs didn't fail to amuse the healer. Nobody will ever touch my Norn. Nobody… but me.
"He-he! Good. Now, only one debt to settle, and then I`m going home." Keyaruga mumbled under his nose. He headed straight to the café he previously visited. The very place where he encountered Kailia and the undead husk of a bull. The lad sought to give the owners a bit of money and send them away from Buranikka. Preferably, he wished to take some of their cakes to give them as gifts to his girls.
In the end, he reached it. Alas, that cozy atmosphere was gone, the broken signboard, the hole in the wall, the shattered tables — it screamed of desolation.
"Is anybody here?" Keyaruga asked, driven more by a sense of courtesy than anything else. At first, there was no answer whatsoever. Then the silence was broken by creaky steps. The owners were no more, and yet something else crawled in their house. Something sinister, powerful, and bold. Something behind the feeble door...
"Ugh, the place is closed, you should…" Ultimately, a sorceress appeared in the room with a small, barely visible whirlwind around her. "Wait, Keyaru?"
"Hello, Freia. Nice seeing you here." The man sneered with an obvious sarcasm in his voice. "One point for not lowering your guard."
"Thanks…" The girl replied cautiously. She didn`t know what to expect from that meeting, or whether or not she should`ve charged her new staff. Because this is where things were supposed to go wild. "Norn, my sister… Have you murdered her?"