A prestigious city that was born and built led by the remaining Ordinals after the Old Hellion War six hundred years ago, along with the Barrier. Then, became the first place where soldiers and armies were created before sending them to guard the walls against the Hellions. Along with its constant expansion throughout the years, it also became home to all races due to the maintained fair connections with the rest of the World Regions through the Ordinals. And now I'm here again after a while — summer, two years ago, to be exact. It was when Grace and I visited Kyla, and I walked around the suburbs of the Eastern Borough to look for a lot where I could move my mother in, even though she'd disagree.
It persists to be as pleasing to the eyes as ever just seeing its entirety. Down below are the varied shapes of tall and small, man-made architectures — mostly of weathered wood, polished and latticework concrete, and metal. A fair amount of greenery lines each road and street people walk on and vehicles drive by. Many of them can even glow, bringing light during the night. A huge river stretches across the city, linking dams, sewage, and other man-made waterbodies, and they all meet at an underground river existing beneath the citadel. It all exits from there.
Looking behind me is the outline of the Region's wall borders from afar, not as tall as The Barrier but holding enough security to protect the city from any outlying threats. Far ahead of me is the closing figure of the towering architecture of the Ordinal Citadel, glistening under the sun's warm light for all of the people in the city to see and those outside its landscape's vicinity. Even at night, its shining continues and can be seen from a certain distance like a beacon.
Our approach passes the set of layered white curtain walls, separating the city and the fortified Citadel's green exteriors. Citadel Guards reside in this solid architecture. Even the Ordinals have their own soldiers to protect them.
It'll be the first time to have my footsteps through its sophisticated dungeons. And it'll be me in the presence of the Third Ordinal for the first time as well, and maybe even meet more of them. Just from here, my chest is already sinking below the pits of my guts as a result of the knowledge that I'm more nervous than confident. No excitement or enthusiasm at all, which I think is the right feeling. I'm invited for the reason of the hows of that Darken's murder by my hands. How am I to answer the questions though? What am I to answer? I'm clueless as to what I even did… Or how I even did it…
No turning back now. As if I can.
The Wyrbird makes a graceful descent upon the Citadel's green yards, revealing the view of lush groomed grass and fragrant flowers, trimmed shrubs shaped into animal figures and shapes alike sitting beside wide stone paths, and bridges over thin depressions of water streams, along with big trees of many kinds scattered in lines and patterns everywhere. They rustle with the gentle wind from the creature's massive wings.
My booted feet meet the soil, and my gaze now hovers at the Citadel. Seeing it up closer than ever, only a few yards away from its steps is like having myself about to enter a place known to be unknown by curious common beings such as me, whilst unearthed to a few worthy some. Citadel Guards are seen stationed at the giant entrance. To be one like them is somewhat the best standing one can acquire as a soldier, yet nothing to be thrilled with or find anything exciting. Just either being in a non-locomotive stance in one place or scouting around with only a limited number of places to explore.
I hear the Ordinal's mythical companion give a purr before once again ascending the skies in a single blow of its feathered wings.
"Follow," He commands and I obey.
Once our feet are sauntering on the lively grey steps, my mind wanders again with the same questions repeating, again and again, combined with an ample amount of anxiety and it merely reminds me of the existing twitching aches within my muscles. Especially of the fact that Ordinal Third himself is the one to see me. I'm moderately unhinged to even think of the possible questions, or even prepare myself. My fingers are trembling on their own right now.
Amidst the halls, a water structure comes upon encounter. A small pond where its waters recede upward in huge droplets at a snail's pace to a giant blob of water afloat on the high-holed ceiling. The refracted daylight from the outside gives the polished white cobblestone halls and thick pillars lined with glimmering stones a certain accent like having myself looking underwater.
Realizing that I have paused in my tracks, I dart my eyes to the Ordinal who is observing me with his nonchalant look. I merely apologize under my breath which he surely hears before returning my tracks behind him. It's rude to make an Ordinal wait. I internally slap myself for it.
Our blurred shadows begin stretching beyond our feet as we walk further into the Citadel's silent halls, our boots summoning discordant echoes bouncing against the walls. A giant bejeweled chandelier hangs above, glittering the environment with its own refracted glints, rivaling those of the numerous giant stained glass windows. My gaze holds on to each with awestruck when I realize they aren't merely windows, but portraits of every single Ordinal Legion. Each signifies their glorious existence throughout time, even though many have become unfamiliar with the world, either unwanted to be known, or have been easily forgotten after their demise. Or rather just never given recognition.
One tinted glass is of the known Ordinal Forty or known as the Daughter of the Skies. There's also the Ravenbird Ordinal, Zarieda, the thirteenth of the legion acknowledged by her unbreakable wings made of steel. I see the reflective portrait of the Ordinal walking ahead of me, somehow looking like a Saint as people named him The Lightguard. It has been noted that he holds the Fourth Ordinal's legacy as the most powerful mage in the land, and the only Rune Writer remaining in the world. Above the hall's end is the only portrait of the First Ordinal himself, glorious looking with his mere simple posture, the butt of a golden sword rested beneath his palms over his front. He died along with Ordinal Second and many others in the Old Hellion War, and Ordinal Third took his place as the legion's leader.
The nearer we reach the hall's end, the odd one out captures my attention, one glass window holding no Legion's portrait, but mere transparent shade with the daylight from outside. As I said, there are those who never wanted to be completely recognized at all.
At the end of the hall comes two wide staircases leading to the upper floors of the Citadel. Finnobair continues forward with me still behind his tracks. After another long walk, passing by other Citadel workers and encountering more of the interior features, we arrive upon a wide elevating disk platform, two guards stationed on its corners. Judging by their navy red wearing, they're both Earthbudger Hexborns. We both step upon the solid platform, my ears catch the Elf Ordinal's faint words to the two Elemis, and then the ground starts moving upward, speeding up at a snail's pace.
As we elevate to the Citadel's upper levels, behind me is a framed glass, and I once more have myself a short-time span glimpse of the emerging landscape from outside. The sun is halfway toward the uneven horizons. Still, none of it relieves the heavy beating of the muscle in my chest when I'm well aware of the reason why I'm here. I'm actually oblivious as to why I'm even feeling like this, and there's something more. It's as if it's wrong to be here. Maybe, it's because of the fact that it is rare to have common individuals like me to be here, besides the Borough Prime Governors. The platform begins slowing down, signing that we're arriving at the Citadel's designated level. A few more moments and the view of another long hallway emerges, where another pair of concrete doors sit on its end.
The sealed doors rumble open in a heavy moan as the two guards push them upon the Elf Ordinal's command, only for my eyes to greet a life-size table and multiple levels of massive wooden bookshelves. Then I soon register the zigzagging small creatures that have suddenly retreated within the narrow seams of the tall shelves upon my first step inside the chamber. Perhaps my unfamiliar presence startled them. Pixies are sensitive at times.
This is probably the biggest library that I've seen — way bigger than the libraries back in the Academy, and obviously holds more worldly subjects that are sacred and forbidden to be exposed to or unearthed by common minds.
After a few steps of depression, I'm walking on a carpeted floor that suppresses the loud stomps of my boots. My eyes remain to examine the environment, still taking in the existence of such a setting.
"Finally." I'm then pulled back, once again reminded of my purpose here in which my heart sinks in an instant, then my eyes rest upon the person who owns the masculine voice as he descends the stairs from the level above. A tall, dark-grey-haired man in a not-so-odd knightly coat, a bitten fruit in his grip, and a book in the other where his eyes are settled through the rounded lenses upon his nose bridge. "I thought it'd take longer for your arrival, but then I remember his companion warps everywhere," He chuckles, then places the book atop the wooden table before making his way toward us.
Just seeing his semblance from here, I already recognized him. Is it really him? The Third Ordinal? My body stiffens with my hands involuntarily locking both behind my back the closer he approaches, until he's merely half a meter away. The entirety of his semblance seems not to have aged, still looking like a young adult around his early thirties, considering his lineage of ageless vampires—just like what I've obtained from the books. The books illustrated him pretty well. He's no Kalvarian, but rather of some undiscovered descent only he and whoever else knows. Might even be predating the Kalvarian Empire's foundation.
"It is an absolute honor to be in your great presence, Third Legionnaire," I say solidly, feeling every bodily orifice of mine release sweat, despite the cool atmosphere.
"Oh save the respect for the others," He sighs, maintaining the positive verve before removing the lenses from his nose, and hovers the object to his side and one pixie comes around to retrieve it. "Already had enough of too much of it — for over six hundred years, at least." It's clearer. Neither his aura nor gaze holds the intention to intimidate. "Except for this fella." He looks at the other Ordinal next to me.
The initial thought that kicks in is disbelief. Along with the impression of his personality. For someone, along with once thirty others of his kind, who have led thousands of armies to end a massive war breakout centuries ago, establish the giant cage that is keeping all the Hellions secluded until now and the Region homing all races, and many more listed upon works of literature, he's… not what I expected him to be behind the face of the public. Very much condescending when in front of thousands of armies, standing before a World Leader, or just when being in public, holding countenances of being the superior entities they are and obtaining spontaneous reverence.
I hear an exasperated sigh escape from Ordinal Twenty-One's lips. Seeing these common reactions from almost godlike beings, especially after only knowing them not so long ago is quite strange that it seems as if I must be dreaming.
"Way to put out your decency, Arthur," I hear the Elf Ordinal add
"Six centuries of knowing one another and my friend here is still not used to this behavior of mine," Ordinal Three says, looking at me, chuckling.
So am I. I stay in my stance watching the Mage roll his eyes in response, hiding the joyous effect. I must say that it was not clearly depicted what form of relationships worked between these Ordinals as they're too overshadowed by most of their glorious and historical acts. But now, I can see in crystal the present humane relationship between their aliases and as comrades — at least, as a first impression.
"No, it's not just the right moment to engage in spontaneous conversations." The Elf replies. "Especially since I have other places to be."
"Well, apologies, my friend if I'm such a ruin to your always-professional aura," Giggles Ordinal Third.
"I've brought your guest before your presence, just like you asked," The elf says, almost nonchalantly. "Is there anything else you need, Arthur?"
"That's all, Finn. Thank you for the favor. It's nice seeing you."
"Your mere presence is greatly acknowledged, Great Legionnaire," I say, and the Elf Ordinal nods approvingly to us both before finding his way to the chamber's exit.
I turn back to the Third Legionnaire, still in the same solid stance of reverence.
"Alright, pixies, time to come out." He says aloud with a single clap. "Nothing to be afraid of."
I see the small beings slowly emerge from their hiding places, their little faces full of curiosity and bafflement.
"Should've done that earlier, but anyways," He mutters before turning to walk towards the stairs leading to the library's second level. "Follow me."
I oblige and we saunter over the outskirts of the gigantic shelves, the pixies finally have become comfortable with my presence, yet some persist in giving me a curious look. It merely reminds me of the expressions I always get back in the Academy and recently in the Barrier.
"I was afraid my invitation would be rejected," He says with a sideways look. "It's worth the wait, now that you're here."
"Well, an invitation from an Ordinal is never meant to be rejected, Third Legionnaire," I say politely, to which he giggles.
"Right," He mumbles. "So, how's the ride with Finn on his Wyrbird?" He asks in a lively tone.
"Um… It's a very out-worldly experience, Legionnaire," I say, coyly but honestly. I still find it out of the ordinary to this moment to interact with Ordinal Three in such a manner. "I never thought I'd be able to ride one."
"That's what I thought," He says. "I had the same take after the first time. They're very hard to tame and get along with at first, but it didn't take long for one to allow me to explore parts of the world in just a week. It's only unfortunate that there are only a few of them left today." He adds. "Most of them fought along with our armies back then, yet still not enough to permanently end the war."
I contemplate his words.
"They didn't mention that in history class didn't they?" He says, looking at me.
I shake my head. "But I believe they're in Zoology books," I say. "Or mythology, sir."
"Ah, yes. Of course." He cheers, then stops to turn at me. "Tens of thousands are made and millions of copies are produced, but none of them contain something up to this day to help us know more about the Otherrealm."
His point is right, we only have knowledge of what Hellions sorted in classes known so far. My mind then darts to the memory of that murderous creature days ago… Thinking about which class it falls under.
He sways his hand, referring to the entirety of the chamber. "Even these books here of sacred and common knowledge written by the smartest knowledge-seekers and renowned brightest literates in Midterra. They contain nothing with clear regards to their existence or origin." He continues walking. "We Ordinals spent hundreds of years building weapons and progressing technology — not to mention, the Barrier with the help of Kalvar — to discover what these creatures really are, why are they so eager to prey on life?" He turns to me with his green eyes. "Why choose our world?"
I've heard all of those questions back in my Academy days, questions left unanswered. And I know how serious they mean to this day.
"New young soldiers and sentries being sent out there every year to watch over and do nothing else but kill every Hellion they'd find on sight. And in return, thousands of lives taken," He says. "And the unlucky part, as you know, is that the Hellions that are killed," He conjoins his fingers, then makes a puffing sound. "Poof! Gone to their own ashes in a matter of minutes, not even giving us a chance to study them further."
By the moment he finishes his sentence, we have passed between the seam of two shelves, all containing the same book but of numbered volumes. Emerging from them, I encounter rounded tables under a glimmering chandelier of more glow stones. The Ordinal is first to make himself comfortable on one of the four chairs around one whilst I remain standing two meters away from him, still composed as a soldier should. He then gestures to the chair opposing him, where I coyly oblige and make my way to place myself upon the seat's soft surface. Posture, still alive.
"Until you."
My brows perked, along with the sudden return of the unsettlement that I had forgotten.
"Yes, I know. It is very rare for common individuals to be here. But the thing is…" He pauses and turns to look at me. "You aren't."
What does he mean by that...? My mind says yet my heart somehow barely understands what he is trying to convey.
My eyes then divert to my side, and a pleasure of pixies, carrying a large, peculiar-looking book approaches me, gently dropping it on the table before turning its thick cover open. A few flips of its dusty pages and I'm looking upon an illustration of an amorphous figure — lines crawling with glimmering gold down to its few tendrils lashed out. Four circles of different sizes are connected by intricate lines sitting behind them. Thoroughly, I examine the unreadable words and etched and disoriented symbols scattered around the page.
I look back at the Ordinal, his lips form an unreadable smile. It merely brings more confusion to this discussion, so I speak again. "Great Legionnaire, I'm afraid I am confused as to what these discussions have to do with my presence here." I sound like I'm in denial, despite the clear signs.
"Well then, let me ask you a question." He says, cocking his head a little forward. "Are you familiar with what you see, soldier?"
I have my eyes once again examining the sketched figure. Nothing clicks. I shake my head, cluelessly.
"Right, of course. Considering it's the only copy that exists and we keep things as such confidential to the public." He stands on his leather-booted feet. "Follow me." Fueled by my surging curiosity, I'm again trailing on his back to the chamber's exit.
I'm once again through the bright halls accompanying the Ordinal, this time at the Citadel's northern lofty palace — its sturdy walls and ceiling matching resemblance with the previous chambers that I've come by, lined with glow stones pulsing every few seconds whilst portraits of green landscapes and twisted abstracts adorn them, intricate pedestals supporting sculpted statues of many kinds stand beside pillars along with some armed citadel Vanguards. Though, I'm too deep into my thoughts to give admiration to any.
Where am I being brought to…? And what did he mean by me as a no-ordinary being…? The image of the sketch once again displays in my head. What is that sketch…? Then the memory of that purplish glow surged through my arm. And it clicks that it has something to do with it.
I'm too focused on putting too much seriousness into my thoughts that I did not realize we're ambling atop a curtain wall bridge not until I feel the wind coldly embracing my body, along with the steady rushing sound of the wide river from below. Tracing its flow of direction, I find it passing under a lofty architecture of an edifice, isolated from the citadel. I'll be witnessing more of the rarely explored parts of the Ordinal Citadel. But, I'm not feeling any enthusiasm though.
After a little more of a long walk through the massive corridors of the said architecture, having to be accompanied by two guards upon entrance, we arrive at another pair of sealed doors, odd with its design of massive latticework gears with symbols and sigils, latched to one another with shiny golden chains. They open with a soft moan upon the hand gestures of the two Steelshaper Hexborn guards stationed, revealing the concrete path toward its uncanny dim interiors. As I said, most of the Citadel's interiors remain hidden from public knowledge.
Far in the distance within the doors, a shed of light strikes down a secluded part of the chamber, but it doesn't provide enough to have my eyes completely parse the environment. I flinch a little when the quick whizzing wings of pixies zoom past over my head, noticing a few of them holding the same book I looked into.
Once sauntering along the path, I notice the doors behind me shut, leaving me again isolated from the Third Ordinal. My eyes adjust immediately and I'm ever confused about what is clear in my view. Twisted tree barks and roots protrude from every square inch of the ground, and along the surrounding solid walls with deep alcoves. Some contain glowing objects — weapons of an uncommon kind. Six fat roots stand vertically, which seem to hold the ceilings and the foggy ground together, each having empty hollow patches in them. A shed of light streaks from the center of the high, dome-shaped ceiling that seems to be the only opening besides the dungeon's doors. Below the light sits a giant flat surface stone upon an open floor where the path is leading us to. Now, I know what this place is… But before I even utter the words in my head, the Ordinal turns to me.
"You must be familiar with where we are now, Soldier," He says. "Welcome to the Vault of Immortal Armaments."