He surveyed the massive black spot that had scoured itself onto the earth. Last night he'd been miles away when he saw a whirling torrent of fire lighting up the horizon, like a nighttime sunrise. It had caught his attention. Of course, who wouldn't be curious about such a frighteningly dazzling sight?
Though Personal curiosity aside It was his job to investigate matters like this. Things which may pose a threat to the empire or the common people, he was one of the four Archons after all, a warrior for holy light, a protector.
The oldest and most experienced, possessor of the third wing and seventy-five years old with nearly sixty years in the holy orders service. It was thanks to the blessing of power he'd received that he was still physically able to carry out his duties.
That's not to say he doesn't feel his age or that he'll live forever, one-hundred years is the limit. Once he turns triple digits he'll drop like water from a cloud regardless of his natural life expectancy.
All power comes with a price, normally the powers Archons receive don't carry one other than being worthy of them, Normally that is. However there's no one who's proved their worth for the third wing he possessed, so in this instance it's a price for hanging on to it.
Recalling the trial to claim it made him shudder, he'd nearly died. To claim the third wing he'd been thrown into a monster infested labyrinth to prove both his mind and spirit. A clever mind capable of seeing things clearly and spirit to persevere through great difficulty.
By the end of it he'd been skin and bones with some fresh scars. When he was told he'd passed the trial he passed out standing up.
I suppose it's my own stubbornness that doesn't allow for my retirement. I just can't let someone go through that all so I can take it easy. Especially since I regret undertaking that trial myself, but that's a secret I'll be taking to the grave.
Something hard met the heel of his boot. Looking down he swiped at the blackened dirt with his heel revealing some type of equally dark slag. Stooping down he picked it up feeling heat emanate from it through his gloves. "Hmm." A flash of light split the hunk of metal revealing a glossy black sheen within. "Black steel? Why would black steel be in a farming village?"
"Lord Archon!" A voice shouted. Running up to him a mailed warrior wearing an off white green trimmed tabard knelt. "Yes… Joffrey?" He asked, taking a moment to remember the young man's name.
Unlike the other Archons he liked to learn his subordinates names, even if they were only around him temporarily. He disliked placing himself above others and being knelt to. It wasn't a custom where he was from, despite that he never tried to correct it. "when in Rome, as they say."
"We discovered several bodies in a clearing over yonder." He said pointing across the field. "They appear to be imperial mages judging by the robes and one of the bodies was torn into almost as if…" the young man paused holding back vomit remembering the sight. "I see. You've done well reporting to me." He said, placing a hand on the youngsters shoulder. "Get yourself some water, and then report to the others."
Most of his escort were comprised of the orders younger members and lacked experience with the more morbid aspects of the job. There wasn't much sense wasting seasoned warriors on an old man that was more than capable of taking care of himself. That and it gave the rookies a safe way to earn some experience.
He went to the far side of the field where the clearing lay, passing through the rolling wheat. He would issue a dispatch to the local lord, to have make sure what hasn't been burnt gets harvested. With the shortages the war had brought itd be abhorrent to let food go to waste regardless of circumstance.
Arriving at the clearing he began inspecting the body of the half eaten mage. "Hmm, several organs missing and chunks taken out of the intestines." Sight nor stench of such gore didn't phase him, having been in service from the start of this undead crisis far worse sights had greeted him.
Zombies use their teeth as weapons, but they don't eat their victims, at least not like this, usually they tear at limbs or the throat. Meaning it must've been him, the cannibal swordsman. Azure Eyes.
"Lord Archon!" A voice called out one of the older members of his retinue Moss. "Report." The Archon stated flatly. Moss was an all business guy while on the clock, he didn't care to waste time not on pomp or ceremony. "I followed a trail that seems to belong to the assailant."
I followed it to the remains of an old manor, but found no one. However I did find this." Moss said, holding out a bloody and burnt stretch of fabric. "Good work." the Archon replied, taking it. He was glad; Few people would've had sense to grab such a nasty thing mistaking it for trash. Moss however had been around him long enough for more than his distaste for rank and ceremony to rub off on him.
"With this we might…" he stopped. Whether his heart stopped or skipped a beat he wasn't sure, but now it was thumping. It was like providence how this piece of fabric had withstood time to make its way to him. On it was a terribly faded image of a bird, Which anyone else would've thought nothing of. Not him, because he knew It was no random symbol, but a logo.
The implication of finding it so close to the Azure Eyes' trail was mortifying. Of course the possibility crossed his mind, yet, even with the proof of that possibility staring him in the face. "Archon… Archon? Lord Archon are you alright?" Moss asked.
No, he wasn't. He was as far from alright as he possibly could be. If the Azure Eyes was who he thought it was then he needed to face it. To repay his debt from sixty years ago. "Send an inquiry to the palace. Tell them Archon Takezo wants to know what they were hunting out here!"