The World of Gultan : Where it All Began

[Equadriose]

Life has allowed me to come back!

Now that I got my anxiety out of the way, I want to start this the right way and publish my story in proper sequence.

With that said, as I had expressed before this story is the basis with which the World of Gultan has been built on. It is a deeply personal story of mine woven from what Fire Emblem inspired within me.
With that said, there are two thing I want to say about the book first :

Why read it

For a lot of us creative types, we use fantasy as a way to make sense of what we are now experiencing or have gone through. This book is the retelling of what growing up was for me and the psychological environment I navigated. Through Fire Emblem and certain themes its depicted, it helped me confront such things in realizing my own fantasy narrative.

This book is intense but above all, it is the telling of breaking free.
I am not the only one who has lived this and although I have always wanted to share the worlds I make with the world around me, as I’ve grown with the narrative, I have grown to find a big part of that desire is to share what I went through in hopes that those who have gone through similar or are going through the same, can feel just a little less lonely knowing they aren’t unique in it.

This gives voice to that, and I hope those who read it will understand.
We are all made into what we are, and we all have the choice to work on making ourselves instead into what we want to be. This book is a message on overcoming the hand you’re dealt, recognizing the silent ways we repeat what we were taught, and learning to see it is not part of who we really are.

DISCLAIMER... and also theme spoilers

The story I want to tell is in traditional FE fashion, a world at conflict, but the main story deals with depicting trauma of one’s upbringing. So a warning up front there are very mature themes regarding abuse (mental and physical) as well as SA in the context of discovery.

I know that sounds all doom and gloom but like I said, it’s the story of overcoming such things so keep that in mind.

Now with that out of the way I intend to share a chapter a week and hope you all enjoy my darker side of FE.

Prologue : And so it Begins

“They must be perfect, perfect!!”

He calls muttering as he rips and tares the bodies before him, sculpting them by stretching the skin, toning their limbs, smoothing their faces.

“Beautiful, ah, how they are perfect.”

Four, he toils, hands so deep in their work they go beyond the magical touch. His mind passionate as his own fingertips grip the flesh of their bodies, stretching to his desire. In the darkness that swirls about in arid mists, shrouding all with its magical power; their bodies as he sculpts them just as he says, perfectly. Two women, whose forms are bewitching. Whose breasts accentuate their lithe figures, their slender arms and firm legs, breathtaking to the sight of their creator. The men, whose muscular visages stand robust and chiseled. Their chests broad and their abdomens perfect with envious detail. Pure magic creating physical entity. They are all eerie in their exquisite forms as he completes the ghostly flesh with the breath of life.

“Ah, they are perfect indeed. Beautiful works of art. Gorgeous,” he eyes their flesh with lustful pupils, their own blinking but once as they become accustomed to their being, “Beautiful. Rise my marionettes. Rise to your master!”

And from the darkness, they move, those far in audience trembling at the power of such feat. Milky cream flesh the tone of nails, hair, eyes. Like stone statues they stand naked amidst monochrome, tall and poised and mindlessly alive.

“Lord Belhephet, you have done it!”

“Ah, look at you. Gorgeous, masterpieces, every one of you. I love it,” he says, paying his minions no mind so far outside the darkness, “You are my finest creations yet. My marionettes, my puppets. My beautiful slaves.”

“Master,” we call in unison, our minds brought to this earth for the soul purposes of the man before us.

“Ah, yes, I am your master,” he smiles, eyes closing, drawn to something above as if drinking in the sound of that title. An orgasm of power, the rush of its climax like lightning through his body a moment savored in physical euphemism. He returns to us a dulcet wanting, “Yes, yes, you are to become my protectors, my servants. Each of you. You shall win this war for me and then they will see how powerful I am. How true and intelligent this power really is. Come my beautiful creations. You will be the greatest force to walk this land!”

Orgasm stilled to action, and he calls us to his lead, clothes forming over our naked bodies as we dress ourselves in the way we were made to want to look. Black, all is black to the deathly cream of our flesh and eyes.

“You will be Equadriose,” he names me, looking upon me enviously as he moves to the next, “You shall be Geldoblame… you are Lucacia… and you shall be Melotica.”

“Yes master,” together now, this time our tones shift individually as our constructed personalities are given chance to evolve.

Again, his face and body shutter, “Oooh, you are so perfect, all of you. You are to be my four generals, the Four Cords if you will. Let us go across Hephreness and bring forth victory at last. Let our enemies tremble to my might; your might. With these beautiful works of art, I will be unstoppable!”
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A war to ravage the continent of Hephreness. It is here the humans of this land are pitted in never ending conflict.

Five nations to their respective lands, they mark the territories of Letrasia, Pelderam, Hatche, Debluar, and Fotica. Five lands born from the founding of their respective lineage. In these lands a sudden attack has shuttered the continent and begun a chain of events that will mark an era in history:

Pelderam, the neighboring nation to that of Letrasia has invaded their closest ally, Fotica. Scrambling from this surprised attack, Fotica calls aid from Letrasia. Without a second thought King Brennerd extends his army and declares war upon Pelderam. Troops of Letrasia are dispatched to aid the already pressured army of Fotica. Their forces now joined, the two nations hold back invading Pelderam, but a trap. For with the vacancy of Letrasia’s main army, Pelderam invades Letrasia itself. Outmatched, King Brennerd dispatches his son and daughter, prince and princess; Velchimar and Cassandra, in an escape attempt to ensure Letrasia’s remaining heirs. To which they are to travel to Debluar in hopes of finding aid. Now locked in the emanate advance, the siblings must depart their father against their own wishes…
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“Father no! We cannot leave you, not in Letrasia’s time of need!” she cries, elegant tears symbolic to the now broken spirit of the nation itself.

“Don’t you see, my daughter? It is in Letrasia’s time of need that there must remain an heir to its throne. You both, will be the future of our nation. You must live!”

“But father, we cannot leave you. If not as your children, then as fellow Letrasians!”

“I will not have this. I too do not wish to part you both, but you must leave, now. There isn’t much time!”

“Father!”

From the broad doors of the emerald castle rush forth a knight clad in matted armor, “My king, the army is advancing, we cannot hold the castle much longer.”

“No!”

“I will cut them down myself!”

“No! You must, hurry; I will not have this, Velchimar. Take your sister and leave this place.”

“Father-.”

“Do not go against me, boy!” his voice thunders menacingly to his own children, their youthful eyes frightened by his foreboding demeanor, “Leave, both of you.”

“Yes… my lord,” his final words and yet, he could not leave his father, but only his king. With arms to his sister, he breaks her from his gaze, but she cannot let go.

“Father! Father!! Father!!!”

Weeping eyes, the noble king looks to his daughter’s distraught image from the back of his son’s, deeply broken their parting could not have been greater.

“I am sorry,” he whispers, “I love you both as the greatest blessings of my life. Run swiftly my children and may God protect you. May he protect us all.”

Moments pass as the elite guards gather around their king, the castle echoing now with the sounds of nearing battle. Poised figures falter in morale to such pause until at last, the doors blare open to the army of Pelderam. Pristine, their army washes forth, white armor like ethereal ghosts sent to take the souls of those they battle. Through their forces comes forth a figure not like any to be known within Pelderam. A cloaked figure of black robes, wrapped in velvet luxury to equal the night in hue. Powerful this strange man rises through the white armor to look to the king high above his ring of royal guard.

“You!!” breathes the king.

“Ah, you remember me, don’t you,” a sneer from the black figure, the hood shrouding his face but the king knew what lies behind the darkness, “You will die, my king, and you will rue the day you and all of you opposed me!”

“Belhephet, you twisted mind. How could you?”

“Oh, you know. You know sooo well, my king,” he hissed, moving closer and closer, appearing to not even notice the massive guards blocking his path, “Today is just the beginning. You all will realize your undoing. You all will pay for your sins.”

Without a motion outside his stride, the figure unraveled his cloak with beams of twisting darkness. Hands concealed in the folds bringing down the guards before him with chocking shades of black radiance. To their dropping bodies he raises the throne, facing the king’s poised figure, the two together now revealed where the king stands straight, the cloak falters with a hunched posture.

“You will not succeed with this.” his eyes tremble to such power.

“Oh, no I will, Brennerd. You will not stop this. Here lies the demise of your power and know that it was I who took it from you. Now, how would you like to die?”

A wicked smile even the darkness could not hide but the king stands tall, “You may kill me today, Belhephet, but you will never defeat Letrasia.”

A hint of pride perceived as ridicule, snatches away all amusement as white-hot rage took its place. He raises darkness around him, channeling it forth with blaring voice as it is then thrust forward. Taking the shape of vaporous liquid, black transitions into twin tendrils puncturing inside the king’s robes, such impact causing his eyes to protrude in cold pain.

“You dare look down upon me!!”

Twisting at the base, his robes sift to the motions of a punch, the two strands reverberating as the effect carries into the body of the king. Internal Punch, a forbidden spell.

“None of you will ever do that to me again!” another thrust, the king shifts sporadically to the right, then a squeeze of the hand crushes his lung. Another punch, a bend, a rip, a twist, the king falls to the twin strikes within his own body.

“L-l-long… l-li-live…. Le-trasi-a…” he spills words along with blood, buckling as he falls to his knees. What life remained slips back along his eyes as the sound of crumpled flesh hits stone with a jarring thud.

Dead. A silence hangs to the stillness of the throne room.

“Your final words shall never reach God’s ear,” the black looks down his nose to the green now marred in red, “Such a fool. As you die, your kingdom dies with you. Hmm, a fitting fate for one such as you… heh… heh-heh… heh, ha, ha, ha Hahahahaha ahahahahaha ahahahahaha!”

A shutter to wake the entire castle. The cloak realizes the make of his own doing and he grows lightheaded to having passed the threshold. A tingling euphoria. Breath turns to utterance turns to laughter. A menacing laughter, bewildered by its liberation. Silence magnifies its undulating cackle until it rings in his own ear.

It has begun.
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“You are Lucacia, is that correct?”

“That it is, and who might you be?” an obvious trick of annoyance. Clearly, she knew my name, she just didn’t care to waste her breath.

“I am Equadriose. Master says you’re like me.”

“Ah, hahaha,” she laughs with open eyes, “You are nothing like me, puppet. I am beautiful. I am intelligent.”

“As am I. Master says so.”

“Do not fool yourself. I am the one master loves. Not you.”

“Y-yes he does. He loves me.”

“No, he does not, and I will prove it to you,” a wicked smile crosses her face but to prove her wrong I play along, “Here, come with me.”

Taking my hand she led me through the castle, our two figures rushing through its halls together until then, she brought me into a bedroom knowing I knew what happens here. I smile to her just as she shuts the door, the illusion fading before me as I realize I stand surrounded in wet darkness.

“Lucacia, what are you doing. Don’t, no, don’t do this to me!! Lucacia!!”

But all I hear is an echo of her laugh while I stand for eternity in filthy claustrophobia. Opening the door was master, his face showing contempt at the sight of me and she, with ruffled clothes, revealed he had loved her, not me.

“What are you doing in here. You are ruining your image. Disgusting, get out of there!” A bash across the head, he yelled at me several more until pulling me out in a disgraceful heap, her point proven as she walked away with him.
This was one of many countless games. The way she toyed with me. Manipulating my ‘emotions’ if you could call such things that. A memory. In this time of war, I cannot help but remember these walls around us, and the stories they hold.
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“My prince, it is just along this route. If we make it, we will be safely away from the enemy,” a burly yet robust voice, Nethanial, the escort of the prince leads the siblings across the war-ravaged land of Letrasia, its rich green forests filing their path as they make it to a bridge, “Please we haven’t much time. This way.”

“We should have stayed with father. We should have aided in defending our homeland. Not fleeing like cowards upon signs of conflict.”

“My prince, you must not think such things. The king desired that you live. You must think of his greater thoughts. Who else to restore Letrasia than its rightful heirs? His majesty sought the future of our country. Forgive me, but you must not speak in such a manner. You must see the reason to your father’s wishes.”

“Oh, father, why were we attacked to begin with?” she speaks as if she has no life, her eyes half full as she rests upon her brother’s shoulders, hopelessly drained, their horse restless as it paces the grass beneath.

“You are right, Nethanial, forgive me. I-I am not thinking well. All of this, is, is happening so fast.”

“It is alright my prince. Once we arrive at Debluar, we will have a better guide. But we cannot lose sight of our main goal.”

“Yes, the restoration of Letrasia. We will never forget,” a glance to his sister.

“No, never,” she replies independently, a crack of life showing in those devoid eyes.

“Then let us be on our way.”
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“You hideous worthless wretch, how could you!” screamed master, his gaze full of rage as he yelled upon Lucasia’s pleading eyes.

“Master, no please! I-I didn’t-”

“God, look at you. You are so ugly when you beg. I must wash myself of your wretched body. All the nights I loved you, and you do this!!?”

“Master, please, no, I-I thought I was beautiful. You said I was gorgeous!”

“Look at you. No, you’re not. Not near to any. And you, Geldoblame, how dare you trick her into this. Such a beautiful work of art as you was not made for manipulation.”

“Beautiful? How can he be more beautiful than me?” she pleaded; eyes swollen in tears. A strange occurrence, her mannerisms, such actions, such, feelings, she has never been seen in such a horrible manner.

“Anyone is more beautiful than you, you revolting bitch!” to then Geldoblame, “leave my sight. I will discipline you later.”

Quickly Geldoblame departs, his silence fading into the shadows of the library hall. I however remain to listen behind the doorway. His berating of her was most unpleasant. So foolish of her to fall for my little trap. Constantly he yelled at her between strikes, degrading her self-image of worth so foully I began to feel the strange sensation of cold regret. Or was it pity? At last, the deed was over, and master had had his fill, my little trick now seeming to have cost her more than I had hoped to inflict. To her room she ran, her sobbing echoing behind her through the Cathedral’s stone halls as tears trail her path. She was worthless now, to herself and master.

I entered the room to hear her still crying, her white flesh red and swollen from tears so real and never meant in the making of the eyes they came from. She looked rather ugly.

“Lucacia,” I spoke calmly.

“Oh, Equadriose, how dare you enter my room. Get out!” she continued to cry, holding her face in empty comfort.

I sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her, “Lucacia,” I said once more.

“Am I ugly? Am I hideous?” she pleaded to me, begging, her face so distraught, looking for something to assure her dignity.

“No, no, you are not,” I said, caressing her shoulder like master does to all of us.

“Oh, Equadriose, master hates me now. He will never love me again.”

“Do not think that. He will love you again. He always does.”

“Oh, you are probably lying, remember. You were made to lie like me. You were made to manipulate emotion,” she smiled between tears, huddling closer as she remembered what I had told her long ago.

“I am not deceiving you,” I lied, this entire debacle my doing.

“Oh, you’re so nice to me. Your touch is so soft, Equadriose… I, like it,” she began to stop crying, her voice inferring something, something more.

“No, Lucacia.”

“Why not, prove I can still be loved. Come Equadriose, y-you love me don’t you?” she muttered looking to me uncertain even in herself to the meaning of what she spoke. She was drunk with emotion.

“No, I, I can’t.”

“I love you Equadriose, I’ve always loved you. Love me.”

“No!” I jump away from her, “You disgusting wretch. Master is right. You are worthless.”

“W-w-what, Equadriose, but y-you said,” she turned to tears again, the feelings pouring into her once more.

“I lied,” a grimace, “How could anyone love you. You’re not good for anything.”

And with that I walked out of her room. Slamming the door behind me I could hear the muffled screaming of her retching emotions, her anguish magnified tenfold, and I left her alone to wallow in it.

[Equadriose]

Chapter 1 : This Land is no Longer Yours

“What!!?”

“Y-yes, my lord, the royal prince and princess are nowhere to be found. We have searched the entire castle, we… cannot seem to find them.”

“Enough, I grow tired of your excuses,” hissed the black robes, “It seems the king was smarter than I had envisioned. So heroic, the use of his life to defer my gaze from his escaping children. How touching. General Bretch.”

“Yes, my lord,” a taught man in opaque armor adorned with the detail of a Pelderam knight, he rises to the black, his curly hazel hair and rich brown eyes a flash of color in this seemingly complex of black and white.

“Dispatch a party across all of Letrasia, I want those creatures found and killed!”

“Yes, my lord, it will be done,” and depart he does, taking his men with him, a moment not to be wasted.

“Letrasia must be destroyed entirely, no such attempt at its rebirth shall ever occur. I will uproot this wretched tree so it will never bore fruit again! Hah, hah, perhaps this could be fun, I do so enjoy the chase. Clear this castle, I want all of this land overturned and secured in the name of Pelderam!”
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And so, Pelderam forces swell across the land in the hunt for the missing children. So close, the two of Letrasia arrive within the hill-lands of Leprech. Little do they know however they were being pursued so closely…
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A rolling land of grassy hills, the green of the trees extend even to the earth as twin horses ride into the village for much needed rest and recovery.

Within the fort of Leprech races a lightly cloaked figure of white and black, a spy, he dashes without a sound to the broad image of his commander.

“General Bretch, it has been reported the children are coming this way. Our spies have tracked their movement. We will have them in our midst within the hour.”

“Good, let us be quick of this. I do not like to waste time. Ah, how they are discovered so easily. With my command they would have never prayed for such an elusive escape. Call the guards, I want all of Leprech surrounded by the time they arrive,” motion sounds as his voice echoes through the stone hall, “Yes, let us play them into our hand. Have someone go out to greet them, perhaps one of the prisoners.”

A suggesting eye, two guards dispatch to bring forth a robed woman, her white and green sashes tarnished with mud and the signs of a struggle, she voices heavy breath. Not so easily contained, the two guards struggle with her flailing hands.

“Ah, sister, I have a job for you.”

“Never, Pelderam scum! I would never betray my nation for you. Nor will I do evil. It is against God’s practice.”

“Such vulgar words from one who is to be pure of the cloth. How touching, but do you know what I ask of you?”

A menacing stare, too wicked for one such as a priestess.

“Hmm, why your beloved prince and princess are coming to visit us.”

A gasp, her eyes falter at the sound of those titles, “Cassandra?”

“Yes, and you will go to greet them. Lure them actually into the heart of the town, understand?” a commanding voice.

Shaken, she returns to the fiery visage, “Never! I will not deceive the royal siblings!”

“Oh, but you will if you wish for them to live, hehehe…”
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Tall grass rolls across the hills to the crisp cool breeze of the Letrasian climate. Stone buildings of the quant town of Leprech opens before the three refugees, their horses galloping into the humble square, oblivious to its gapping maw.

“Ah, here we are. We may stay here for the time, my prince and princess. I will see to the town mayor for further passage.”

“Yes, the horses need rest and we are all so very tired,” speaks the princess, her complexion retaining anew some restored life to what greeted her eyes.

“Wait, Nethanial, someone draws near.”

A woman, inlaid in robes of white and emerald, hues of both royalty and the practice of the church. She appears to them quickly with promising eyes.

“Ah, the prince and princess, welcome. I am so pleased to see you are alive,” she exclaims with true sincerity.

“Chandis!” Cassandra, relieving her brother’s side rushes out to greet her friend. Anxiously, the two women embrace in comfort to the state of the nation.

“I had heard the castle was destroyed. I never thought you two would have escaped,” she continued to breath with recalled memory.

“Oh but we are, quite alive, my brother and I.”

“Oh, Velchimar, you have given a humble cleric hope,” she speaks again with truth.

“Thank you, Chandis. I am pleased to see you are alive as well.”

“Oh, luckily, Leprech has not yet been fully captured.”

“That is good news,” replied the prince.

“Yes, we had been expecting your arrival in hopes-”

“You have been expecting us?” spoke Nethanial, the cleric now touched to his words.

“Well, ye-yes, the entire nation has been looking for some beacon of Letrasian continuance,” she spoke truth.

“But how did you know we were to arrive here?”

“I-I had faith,” she lied, Cassandra parting her friend in cold uncertainty, the effects of Nethanial’s words now making clear her misplaced naivety to this hint in comfort.

“And if this part of Letrasia has not been affected yet, then why is it that your robes are so tarnished?”

“Chandis?”

“I-I, I’m so sorry my princess.”

The vacant town came alive, shuddering of motion sounding across the grassy hills as the white army of Pelderam exposed its position. Obviously, this was a trap and they had fallen so easily into it.

“That will do for now, Chandis,” echoes a nearing voice.

Moving away, the cleric looks to the ground ashamed and disgraced in every frozen mannerism now seeming to possess her. In her place came General Bretch and two of his guard, “Well, well, well it seems you fell right into my trap.”

“Who are you,” demanded the prince, now standing in protection of his sister. Nethanial to his back drawing blade as he rose upon his armored steed.

“I am General Bretch of the Pelderam army. I have been sent to capture the missing prince and princess of Letrasia and thanks to your friend here, I have just about completed my mission.”

“He said he would have killed you along your path,” pleaded Chandis, an attempt to justify what she had done not only to the royal siblings, but to herself as well.

“We will not be taken so easily.”

“Ah, strong words from a strong prince, but I am not one to draw things out. Let us begin; come peacefully or we will have to use force.”

“We will never surrender to the likes of you.”

“I had thought as much, men, to arms!! I want them alive!”

And depart he did, leaving the cleric standing so distantly to the open circle of guards now closing in.

“Nethanial, do you have an idea,” spoke the prince, hoisting onto his steed with his sister close behind, his own blade raised to the impending walls of white armor.

“The houses, perhaps we could sneak through the alley’s between them.”

“Good idea. We will follow your lead.”

“Yes, my prince, this way.”

“Wait!” called a voice, Cassandra, “Chandis.”

Eyes rise to her visage with terrified uncertainty.

“You are a cleric. You can heal us in battle can you not?”

“Y-yes my princess.”

“Then join us. We will need your aid.”

“But, my princess, I betrayed you both?”

“You are forgiven. In this time of war your actions were not impure to their meaning,” kind words followed with a smile upon her elegant face. Her brother however, not similar in reason but accepted his sister’s choice.

“Oh, thank you, my princess! I owe my life’s service to you forever.”

And with that she was housed upon Nethanial’s steed, just as the white armor came to meet them.

“Now! This way!”

A rush, the horses gallop with swift strides, slipping behind the nearest houses as the armored soldiers adjust to give chase. Too slow, but never ending in pursuit, the royal children sped across the grassy plains of Leprech. Their ride now met with warriors of the bow, arrows falling from distant locations as Nethanial directed them toward the hills. Knights, coming over their crest now appeared to the two horses, lances ready as they engaged the fleeting vassals.

“To your left, Nethanial!” called the prince, two knights of white rising to the paladin’s steed as he drew his own sword to parry. A clash with swift strikes, he ended the knights quickly, followed by another to his right. A sharp swerve led the party away from a volley of arrows as the prince himself engaged in the attack.

“My lord look out!!!” Nethanial called, too far to aid him.

But the prince handled his own.

“Brother!”

A clash with a knight, the thrust of his lance nimbly misses the prince’s chest as he reached down to slash at his side, felling the knight as they proceeded further.

“My prince are you alright!?” Nethanial spared concern as their horses met side by side.

“I’m fine Nethanial. I am now most grateful to you for teaching me swordplay,” a smile under pressure.

The party continue to ride, stopping the scarce knights met along their path, wounds quickly aided by the power of Chandis, all under the raining fall of arrows from afar.

“We are almost there,” a boarder forest opposite the grassy fields, their galloping neared its edge by the fort of Leprech, a shallow river parting the threshold.

“Nethanial, we must defeat that general Bretch or else we will not be able to escape.”

“No, brother, it is too dangerous!” pleaded the princess.

“But if we do not, we will only continue to be pursued.”

“Your sister is right, my prince. We are not powerful enough to go against such a general. We must retreat.”

Angry the prince opened his mouth but to no avail, his voice quenched by reason yet enraged at the same time. To flee, he hated the notion. Already they had taken flight, why again?

Toward the forest they ventured, but not so easily, a force of six knights led by one of higher skill appeared from behind the wall of the fort, meeting their gallop head on at a juncture within the water.

“Okay, we break this formation and make it across the hills. Please prince, ride behind me for your protection-”

“No!” spat contempt from the previous statement, “You will need all the help you can get, Nethanial. We ride as one. For Letrasia.”

“Very well, my prince,” a smile seen through the opening of his helmet.

“Besides, we must give Chandis something to do,” a smirk as the small army neared their advance.

“Brother!” scolded Cassandra, but even she took to this small humor.

To the nearing army they rushed, swords raised at full speed, the four of Letrasia met the white armor with a shuddering cry. A broad sweep from the left brought down two, then the prince’s motions fell one, another slipping a wound to his shoulder, to which Chandis reached out her healing aura.

The fourth, Nethanial struck with equal might, then the fifth challenged lightly. He fell him in five moves, followed with the prince ending the sixth.

The last and most pristine of the white rose his lance to both, swirling back and forth before the two swords as they dueled in the rolling grass and shallow water, a wall of trees prize for the swords.

“Heh, you won’t get past my lance.”

“He’s too strong!” called Cassandra.

“It’s okay, sister… Nethanial, I have an idea, you ride around his back while I dismount.”

“What? No brother, no, I can’t let you do that!” Cassandra became hysterical, holding tighter to her brother’s waist as he parried the lance’s menacing blade.

“I have to try, or else we won’t make it, Cassandra,” he too realized the weight of his task and spoke calmly for them both, sounds of the pursuing army a faint echo now rising in volume with each passing second, “We don’t have much time.”

“Oh, brother… okay. Be careful,” accepting this harsh reality she released her grip as he let loose the reigns.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” intimate to his sister, he then looked to Nethanial with intensity, “Do it.”

“Yes, my prince.”

A swerve from the next lance swing, Nethanial distracted the knight while Velchimar leapt from his horse, now level with the knight while caught parring Nethanial. Taken notice to this loud entrance the knight turned to meet Velchimar’s nearing presence. A thrust, powerful in person, Velchimar nimbly misses the lance, swerving over with a spray of water beneath the battle field. Nearer he got, using his sword to deflect the powerful swings of the lance. Its focus lessened to him as Nethanial continued to distract the knight’s attention, constantly at odds with who to target.
Closer now, a slash of Nethanial’s sword deflected by the thickness of the white armor. But its distraction won, Velchimar slashed but too late, the lance came about and hit him bluntly in the mid-section, sending him into the water gasping for air.

“Velchimar!!” cried the princess but caught to the echo of the nearing army.

“My prince!!”

“Ah!” gasps Chandis, arms outstretched but too far for her powers to aid him.

A quick recovery, the lance swings over, splashing the water just as the prince dodges out of the way, his side numb but he remains swift if by instinct alone. Using the impact to his advantage, while the knight raises his lance out of the wet grass, Velchimar nears once more, slashing again at his side and landing a hit between the shoulder plating.

Unexpected, the knight spins his lance around, but not as violent as he desires, his attack drawn midway back to Nethanial as the two sides now had him flanked. Five moves, the two of Letrasia duel the knight before the lance is caught with the horse and the prince lands his final mark. Defeated, the knight falls to the water beneath.

“Yeah!! Brother, you made it!”

“Well done, my prince.”

“We haven’t much time,” heaved Velchimar, rushing to his horse as the echo of the army became an echo no more, a glance not spared to what they all knew would appear at any moment, “Come on!”

In urgency, the two flee into their prize now won, disappearing amidst the thickness of the forest, the splash of water falls behind them as the horses leap into its many winding columns.
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To the image of a dead knight does General Bretch arrive, his face agitated by the sight before him.

“It seems we have lost them sir,” speaks the one to his side.

“This is taking longer than I wanted. Send out a search party! I want them found and brought back, now!”

Immediately, guards are dispatched, their white armor splashing hurriedly through the water, then into the forest beyond.

“Lord Belhephet is requesting your position on this matter, general. Shall I tell him your current situation?”

“No! He will probably kill you,” so casual, it brought terror to the soldier, “I will address him myself.”

And depart the army did, the grass of Leprech returning to tranquility while within, the town is brought to the slavery of a defeated nation.
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“I used to think you were my enemy.”

“I used to think you were mine.”

“I always enjoyed playing tricks on you.”

“But they always left me sad knowing I had hurt you.”

“Heh, so typical of you. Pity, that is your weakness, Equadriose.”

“And yours is trust. Even now, you think I am telling you the truth.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

Silence is my reply.

“Don’t think I’m so naïve. Your tricks may have always rivaled my own. I just hope you know when, you, are the one being fooled.”

“Oh I do.”

“Do you really? Why even now, I am biding my time before I strike. And you fall so easily for it without even knowing, stupid puppet.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“What? That I’m just like you? Calling me such is like a mirror of yourself; you must condemn the other to make yourself forget you are the same.”

“Oh, Equadriose, why did you do it? Every night, I think about it.”

“I-I can’t.”

“You hurt me. Amidst all our trickery, though we were made to manipulate, to torture in these things called emotions, I gave myself to you and you hurt me.”

“You hurt me just the same. You wanted to use me; you never said it because you meant it. And you never will mean it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true isn’t it? I see it, how you’re avoiding my gaze right now. You don’t, and I can’t bring myself to admit the same or else I’ll always be tortured with knowing only one side.”

“Hah, well, look at you, proving my point yet again. You are not like me. Too narrow minded to see what’s fake and what’s real. I don’t think you’ll ever know.”

“What? Tell me!”

“Stupid, stupid puppet, that will always be my final game. To curse you with never knowing.”
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A majestic room reaches high through sculptures of pristine nobility. The throne room of Pelderam. Countless pillars line its many levels of stairs spanning artistically in symmetrical designs, guards of the highest nobility standing like works of sculpture themselves along its indigo-laced edges.
At its end sits the tall throne of the king, white crystal surrounding his image as the pinnacle of Pelderam royalty. Five figures amidst this white stand uniquely out of place, our master standing before the king and we, far to watch him.

“Ah, yes, king Delphy, I have come with great news,” speaks the black robes, his image humbled to the mighty white king before him.

“What of it,” a deep voice of sniveling expectance. A brooding face of jet-black hair leers dulcet indigo eyes unto the man before him.

“Your army, as I had stated, has successfully captured Letrasia,” a notice to the voice and how it trembles. We four standing in the back of this impressive castle Pelderam. Cream eyes motionless to the focus on our master.

“That is good indeed. I am impressed,” the king replies with condescension.

“-T-thank your Excellency-”

As if to pay this phrase no mind, the white continued, “Remarkable is my own kingdom’s power. With you as my tactician, black one, I will soon become the rightful ruler to all this land,” hungry for power, he gloated, face smiling absently from the magical suggestions secretly deluding his mind. Foolish. Are all humans emotionally handicap? If so, how easy it is to use these things, these emotions, against them.

“Yes, my liege,” continued our master, “Now, the already unstable nation of Fotica will be next to fall to the might of Pelderam.”

“Good, I pray your forces there are summing it up as we speak, correct?”

“Y-yes, my liege. They are.”

“Good, good, then next I want you to invade the remaining nations by the week after tomorrow.”

Shock, the black robes retract with uncertainty.

“Is there a problem?”

“Only a week to conquer Fotica?” a raise in voice, “Your majesty asks for so much.”

“And you will do it for me regardless,” he barked, “If I am to rule the entire continent of Hephreness then I must have every nation in my grasp as soon as possible. The element of surprise is a conqueror’s greatest asset. We must use it to our full advantage.”

“Why, yes,” a return of character, “I will have Fotica destroyed by the next week.”

“Good, then I suggest you proceed now. All of my army, weapons, magic is all at your disposal and it will all be in the name of Pelderam.”

“Yes, of course, my liege. In the name of Pelderam,” almost mocking in its repetition, “Very well, I ask your leave.”

A brush of hand, the king dismisses him without word.

An even lower bow than his comfortable hunch before turning to the indigo floor, his black robes flowing behind him like death itself.

“Come, my marionettes, we have much to plan,” a sinister voice as he comes to us in departure. Light shines to glimpse the face beneath those folds to a wicked smile grinning like Satan for but a moment before shadow returns. It was all an act.

[Equadriose]

Another week down! Hope everyone is doing well. Been feeling kinda bummed about how much I’ve been working (unable to do much of anything else) so I wanted to share 2 chapters this week. Technically I shared 2 last time what with the prologue and all so I might make it a trend moving forward. Let me know what you think.

But without further a due. Here’s the next 2 chapters :

Chapter 2 : Origin

An elaborate monastery of white and black. The Cathedral as it is called by our master. Here resides his home and kingdom of magic. A library, within its pages we live as the Four Cords, more so known as his puppets of power. Marionettes. We are his protectors, his entourage, and weapons. Within its corridors are we taught our reason for being created. To not only please our master, we were made essentially for this war as tools to his ultimate plan. As are his followers, members of the Dark Order that reside alongside us. Here, knowledge of the ancient powers of dark magic are twisted into the demonic sciences our master manipulates so freely. Powers sought by those of evil heart, though I know not of what is evil. Our master is consumed in his work, transforming dark magic into powerful weapons. Using it as a shield impossible to breach, a blade unfathomable in the lives it steals, or even a warped form of the deity, God’s, power. Creations, he makes the members of the Dark Order. Those who are truly human are as mad as the toys he creates.

Within this fort we four hold our existence, time within held secret to us as though, made as we are, it is here we interact. Our original personalities given chance to be conditioned and formed.

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Geldoblame is the most studious. Broad in musculature with a face of chiseled dormancy, a perfectly bald head indents features of a handsome brooding man. He constantly puts himself within the powers of the deformed darkness, drinking its essence into his mind as his knowledge becomes ever quicker. A favorite of our master, he is the workhorse, used to do laborious practices as master then uses in the night. Geldoblame never speaks of it but even in his solemn personality do I see what goes on behind closed doors. Quiet, made to be quiet, he like all of us desires to please our master. Taking the aspect of knowledge in doing so, he strived to be the greatest to wield magic for the sake of Him. That is, until he became more powerful than master himself and was struck down for it. His left arm scarred with pains brought on to discipline his assumed desire to become more powerful. For this, he fell from our masters liking and has since been shut out like a useless disappointment.

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Lucacia was, and is, his favorite of the two girls. Where Geldoblame filled his bed; she did as well, his lust for her well known to us as she is constantly called the most beautiful of his creations. A round-faced beauty of big eyes, high checks and long flowing hair equal to the skin of her flesh. In this, she calls callously on beauty. Her master’s words taken to heart, or whatever holds her being. We do not have hearts. Whatever it is that defines her, she uses this praise as a label to her worth.

Weakest in battle is she. Her knowledge of dark magic not nearly as powerful as any of the other three. However, she is constantly learning in an effort to do away with this defect and like all of us, watches however powerful she becomes from fear of becoming like Geldoblame. Fear, no, that is an emotion. She, avoids, it due to the outcome of Geldoblame. She is the one I speak to most of all as she is sociable, made, like I, to manipulate emotion; a practice cruelly exchanged between us in honing such talent. Several times she bolstered my skills in magic, swelling my bravado to then convince me in provoking Geldoblame. A futile effort, he would destroy me in a pool of agony every time. Her laughter still rings from those days as can be recalled from any of her other tricks upon me; locking me in utter darkness, water, or refuse for hours on end so that I may know the psychological luring of her words. To then, upon my removal, master would strike me for not being in a condition to his liking. Most noted though was being made to see Lucacia taken for the night. Not me. A reminder of my place to her. A twisted girl, creature, whatever she is, we are. Constantly I am trifled with her deception. Her methods cruel and yet, I fall for them as easily as she does mine. Those moments taken between us a chance to play, knowing strangely from a place we cannot describe, we did not want harm to come to one another, nor be, with anyone else.

Regardless, it is master’s desire for us to hone our skills and so, to please him, we do so regardless of our unwillingness against it.

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As for Melotica, the mirror to Geldoblame. Where everyone else remained that cream color in perfect hue, her hair was made to match her clothes, black. Jet black in a short bowl-like shape framing her stunning features in a beautiful complementary accentuation. She focuses upon the physical sense. Her fiery personality an insecure wreck as she desires to please our master far more vivaciously than any of the others. Said to be the ‘ugliest’ of the girls, she constantly fights with Lucacia for the affection of master. Her most common deceptions are stories of traitors within the Dark Order. Usually followed by presenting their helpless figures, so twistedly dead to our master as a way of showing she had ‘saved’ the Order once more. Only a few times this worked, his appreciation unmistakable as she eagerly took what award he gave her. Those images of her naked body with him so open before the throne room never seeming to disappear. Nor her moans of acquired satisfaction. Truly, I’m not sure if she even wanted such activity as making love to be the form of her gratitude. Regardless, she could never compete with her rival. Entangled with jealousy to Lucacia, Melotica would try to lock her away from master, a pitiless task as Melotica was not made to manipulate and would lose every time. A reminder, like with me, Lucacia picked the room nearest to Melotica’s prison so she could hear Master make love to her. This of course, drove Melotica to thrash in her solitude as she was made to listen to the one she supposedly thought loved her, be with someone else.

To this day, those two fight for master’s bed, even when he grows tired of their bodies and chooses Geldoblame or I instead.

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As for I, Equadriose, the fourth and most loved of the men, like Lucacia, am always entering his bed. Used especially when he is tired of the girls. Rarely does he love Geldoblame anymore. But when he does, Geldoblame flourishes with gratitude. An interesting reaction that so rarely crosses his somber face of quiet. Though he speaks little, it is his body language that is so easily read, and manipulated. As one to be made to manipulate emotion, when Lucacia is unavailable, I play with Geldoblame though his quiet visage seems immune to my jests. Only to my most patient and intelligent ticks does he fall victim, an effort I find rewarding to fuel my efforts against Lucacia herself. With him have I also surpassed his powers but I am smart enough to hide this from master. I do not wish to be discarded. As for Melotica, I enjoy the occasion of loving her. Seeming when master does not, she uses me instead. Though I am a tool to her, I dull the pain in knowing this by using her just the same. Otherwise, I isolate myself from those two, my mind seeking knowledge from the library in my effort to diversify perspective. It is how I put together my manipulations I enact later, especially those I attempt on Lucacia. The two of us have never loved one another as we have the others upon command. Instead, we discuss our powers; I, usually having to teach Lucasia dark magic as she refuses to learn it any other way. Constantly we duel and I am forced to kill her until she figures out progression and deflects my advances. She has improved but as a marionette, she is still inadequate. I think she knows this as she focuses more on manipulation. I, never seeming to fail in falling for her deceptive tricks. In their agony I must admit she has no better. But I play with her just the same; ensuring upon several of her scuffles with Melotica that she suffered defeat, killing her by exploiting her weakness in magic. Or even my most vicious; exposing her collaboration with Geldoblame to master, ending in a most punishing two weeks of no love. His curses of hideous, disgusting, or whatever word he slung at her bringing down that image she held on to so horribly I couldn’t help but go to her. Knowing deep inside, it was I who had been the cause for such discipline.

She almost loved me that day. She told me but for some reason, I could not bring myself to do it. Instead, I called her much of the same and left her agony alone to wallow. Looking back, I did this from knowing no other way to escape loving her.

I love everyone else though, constantly used by master or displayed with either Geldoblame or Melotica. Yet never Lucacia. Strange, I do not understand it nor do I wish to see it happen. Lucacia, I cannot love. I will not love.

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Here within the Cathedral do these stories unfold. Our stories. The actions behind its stone filling the masses of the Dark Order to its core. We wait for our master, accompanying him upon leave or awaiting his arrival, each moment eager to please him to the best of our ability. After all, we were made to do such. Kept from our role in the war, it is here he holds us, his secret to his plans yet to be unraveled but alas, he has returned this day with us from Pelderam and I am sure we will be knowledgeable of his plans soon enough.

But for now, he wishes entertainment, picking from us his favorites for the night, we hold his audience before the throne in excited anticipation. A game, he says, picking two but does not tell the other. Interesting, he selected me, curiosity to knowing my counterpart until I arrive before the throne room and see Lucacia coming out to meet me.

A sudden sharp pain fills me upon sight of her. Knowing we have never made love before, I did not want to touch her as she came to stand side by side, our clothes of course disappearing within the fade of magic, sucked away in a black whirlwind about us. Cold, we looked to one another, then to master, faltering in uncertainty as to what to do next.

Sitting amidst his throne above groping Geldoblame at his side, his gaze furrowed with lustful eyes;

“Ah, yes, beautiful, your bodies, are… amazing, please me, pleasure me. I wish to see you play with one another.”

Reluctant, we look to each other with equal uncertainty, nervous yet knowing what our master desires.

“Do it!”

Again, we look back at the other and slowly turn our bodies. Awkwardly, I reach out and kiss Lucacia just as she hints to doing the same. My lips unknowing lock with hers at unprepared directions, feeling teeth under flesh. Together, we grab one another, alien to such practice but knowing what master desires. All the moves come to us but quickly found the style does not complement the other. Sloppy and stupid we slowly make it to the cold stone floor, our lips locked as we kiss one another ravenously, eyes shut, not wanting to do anything further but knowing it must be done. Madly, I touch her figure, pressing her body close. She tenses and makes no gesture to help me, her cold flesh bumpy to the frigid nudity as I stiffly caress her; she, in turn, gasping at my motions as I reach between her legs. Awkward and un-wanting, she touches me and I cringe to her cold hands, trying to push away yet knowing I must touch her. I will myself further, afraid to look at her directly, to look at master. I bury myself in her thighs, using this moment as a reprieve before I know I must part to the next. Forced I am and gesturing back to climb atop her I accidentally slip a glance to His gaze.

Those eyes.

I freeze for a moment, paralyzed to realizing what I was doing. It is degrading. What emotion I have snatched to shame as I witness his broad face grinning with fiery lust, his excitement to our motions equal only to his own between his legs. Insurmountable shame, I see him eying both of us, eyeing me, my body, as I then begin to penetrate Lucacia, her voice grunting to my own as we make love before our master. We cling desperately to the desire to please him, affirming over and over and over what we were doing was what he wanted. But even though we strived only to appease, deep down we knew we were both raping one another.

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“Ah, the plan is set, my beautiful marionettes, everything is falling into place. Each of you will fell the remaining nations, just as his majesty desires and then only one will remain…Equadriose!” he calls my name and I answer.

“Yes master,” I speak normally though my mind remains lost to the events of the night prior. Her touch was so cold. Though I had not wanted it, to know Lucacia rejected me I couldn’t rest the implication from my mind.

“You will go to Debluar, capture the nation and ensure its control.”

“Yes master.”

“Lucacia.”

“Yes, master.”

“Take Fotica, it is in a weakened state, I’m sure you can handle it, yes?”

“Yes, master,” she nodded, her cream pupils unfaltering in their expression.

“Good. Geldoblame, you will go to Hatche, their secluded confidence will learn the meaning of fear. But when you acquire their leader, I wish to speak with him.”

“Yes, master.”

“And Melotica, I leave you with Letrasia, secure its new dominated position. I will return to it later in my desire.”

“Oh, yes, of course Master.”

“Perfect, I will raise this entire continent, and in time they will see they were wrong of me.”

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With task in hand, we depart, securing our means before pursuing our new directives.

A knock upon the door, a messenger makes audience with the black robes of Belhephet.

“My lord, General Bretch has arrived.”

“Good, I will see him now… Ah, general I hope your mission was a success?”

“Unfortunately, my lord, we have not yet obtained the Letrasian siblings.”

“WHAT!!”

“Yes, my lord, they had gotten away. My army is looking for them as we speak. All we know is they escaped into the forest west of the plains of Leprech.”

“Ah, then they are trying to flee to Debluar,” sneered the black, his face now moderately visible in the dawn of day, “Those foolish being. Very well, thank you for this information, General Bretch.”

“Y-your welcome, my lord,” confusion, the general looked puzzled.

“Oh, you are most certainly welcome. It seems due to your blunder my plan will now have even more reason to commence. Now leave me. You will continue your search for the missing siblings due west.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And General, for your sake. I hope you find them.”

A silent notice of recognition, the stout general then proceeds to leave, his visage betraying his fear.

“Hm, fool, I cannot wait to drink his essence. If Debluar is where they flee then my marionette will find them before he ever does. And without the children claimed in, his name, he will die. Hahahahaha.”

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“Lucacia,” I capture her attention, and she turns to see me. What moments we have before parting I seem to need to use in speaking with her. A compulsion, I do it anyway. Finding in the sense this may be our last opportunity. Amidst all we have endured from one another, we were leaving to fulfill our life’s-duty to our master.

As we face one another she holds no expression, so close together yet our eyes so far apart.

“Yes, Equadriose, what is it, my love,” she smiles a dead smile, heartlessly filled with a promise her eyes denied. A sarcastic echo to what we hear from master every night.

“No, don’t do that. We are not in love.”

“Oh, but we were yesterday, the way you pounced upon me. You were in love with me then. Now I know why you’ve never wanted to touch me. You are an animal, a mindless, puppet, animal.”

So vindictive, she was pulling at my weaknesses and she knew it. I tried to control my body language, changing my voice to speak plainly, “You don’t mean that and I could care less of your thoughts about it. We pleased our master; that is all it was for.”

“Oh? That is all I am to you Equadriose, hah, just an object for you to gain master’s favor with?”
“No, that is not what I meant at all, you used me just as I had you. You are not going to manipulate my heart so.”

“Oh, but it’s working isn’t it. I see your aggression. You’re hurting inside. You don’t like what I’m saying about you, revealing how thoughtless you are. How deep down, you care nothing for me. You raped me Equadriose. I hope you live with that for the rest of your life! Hahahahaha!!” a wicked laugh, so hollow, malicious. On that note, she turned to walk away, drawing me once again into another one of her games. I became filled with regret, a mental burden to plague me forever in knowing she was right.

But I am made for manipulation just as well and as she turned, I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to me, forcefully kissing her before being pushed off.

“You monster! What are you doing!”

“Giving you something to live with for the rest of your life. Remember this, Lucacia: you, liked, it,” a wicked smile of my own, I left the pain she put inside me now deep inside her. She has always longed for me, and now I am to leave her. She will ache for me, forever.

I didn’t have to look to see the pain in her eyes. Interesting, in our parting we were now both locked in the other’s manipulative game.

[Equadriose]

Chapter 3 : Escape into Turmoil

The forest is thick. Its dark woods rich with the emerald of wet leaves. Through the trees, two horses gallop, their movements silent to the stillness around them.

“I think we have lost them,” whispers Cassandra, her voice still cautious to that marching echo they had barely escaped.

“Yeah, I think they’re gone now,” Chandis in agreement, both women looking across the tall slender trees, their winding branches a web of disguise they tried to decipher.

“Shh,” hissed, Velchimar, silencing their whispers as only the sound of the horses returned to their ears.

With the galloping came the sound of rustling leaves, of marching feet, and weapons to which they belonged.

Soon too beside the distinct images of their horses came the white of pursuit, fading between visibility through the hidden foliage below, their lances rising as their feet dashed to the gallop of the horses. Thick, the forest slowed the horses, their speed equalizing to the dash of white, their dull luster appearing greater and greater in number as all around a wall of white soldiers stalked silently at their heel.

“Brother,” whispered Cassandra, confirming in his own mind what lied around them.

“Okay, then Nethanial, let’s split up… Now!”

Startling to this break, the white came alive. No longer docile, their lances rose to meet the parting steeds, weapons clashing once more as Letrasia tried to escape.

“Why are there always so many!” Cassandra not given chance for parting words as Nethanial’s horse rode off into the brush, half the army of white ever at their tail.

“Just hold on, this could get rough.”

Sharp turns and paves, the prince winds through the halls of trees, angling himself so as to cut down those who came too close. Their white fading back into the green foliage as they dashed on.

“Oh no, brother look out!”

Arrows, their hollow sounds shot stealthily through the forest, nimbly passing as Velchimar steered sharp left.

“We have to lose them,” he said.

“But how?”

“I have an idea.”

Deeper into the forest they rode, its green concealing volleys of arrows as Velchimar fended off the attacks from below.

“Here, Cassandra, take the reins.”

“W-what!?”

“We’re switching places, come on.”

No time to object, the prince slid around, handing the princess the reigns and pushing her to lead, “Just keep us going forward.”

Now directly to his enemy, the prince slashed across those around, their nearing figures appearing closer with each swing, numbers vast as he glanced to the green of the forest ahead.

“Turn right when you reach a broken branch.”

“O-okay.”

Another slash, two fell to his sword, then a dodge of a lance from the left. He then swung under, slashing away at one more. His fallen armor tripping two behind him.

A sharp turn, the prince knew what came next, the broken branch appearing before him as he lurched far right, striking the branch and sending an entire tree to fall across a row of Pelderam soldiers.

“Wha-what happened?” called Cassandra, her voice still nervous with uncertainty.

“Letrasia is my home, and I know it well. Father used to take me hunting here,” the prince smiled to himself as another wave of Pelderam came into view. This time however, a series of archers came as well, sounds of bending faintly caught amidst noise.

“Turn!!”

Helpless to his sister, the horse swerved left, just as the arrows passed by. A few knights appearing before the prince as he quickly dispatched them.

“Where now?”

A glance to their direction, “Just hold steady,” another branch he caught eye.

Passing it, he slashed two knights before reaching out and letting loose a second tree. Its heralding fall crushing the pursuers with nature’s force.

Still, Pelderam lingered, their image continuing in its march, a volley of arrows disheveling their path in uneven directions. Quickly, the army grew in distance, their lances nearing as they jabbed the prince closer, his own blade fending them off with each chance he got.

“Just a little farther.”

A glance to his sister showed a band of light shining through the trees like a thin wall of open space.

“Get ready to jump.”

“W-what!?”

And as the army reached their heel, the horse rode on into this open field, revealing below a large fissure deep within the earth.

Quickly in a glance of its presence, Cassandra raised the horse, its buckle crying out as it leaped across the fissure, clearing its gap as the army of white behind halted abruptly to witnessing its depths.

A thud, they continue through the forest, once more, passing their assailants with a nimble escape.

“Did we make it?” asked Cassandra, her voice sounding as if her breath had left it.

“Yeah, now we have to find Nethanial and Chandis.”

“Okay… good.”

A reach around, Velchimar took the reins from Cassandra, her eyes showing the vitality of accomplishment as they rode along through the forest’s greenery.

“You did good.”

“Thanks.”

Continuing through, the prince and princess sped along, the forest across the threshold returning them to a solitude of only their movement.

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Soon enough, from the right came the sounds of another galop, and another. Nethanial’s steed, its powerful visage racing into their path with heated chase.

“Nethanial!”

At his heel came a second stallion, its image laden with the white of Pelderam as its rider, the two engaged in hot pursuit of one another.

A clash, side to side, the white of Pelderam and the pale green of Letrasia seen crossing blades, their swords dancing as they simultaneously steer their horses through the forest. Twin scathes, Nethanial swings twice as the armored white parries, trying to move in closer. Not so, Nethanial’s blade holds them apart. Another slash, Pelderam swings thrice, then a duel of ten moves, leaving Nethanial wounded in two locations. Chandis quick to his side as a blow returned a jab to the right arm.

Overpowered, Nethanial struggles to withstand the white paladin, his sword flashing hard to the much-needed aid of Chandis.

To this, the prince and princess arrive, coming up aside Nethanial’s left, the cleric of Letrasia catches sight of them amidst locked combat.

“My princess, my prince! Oh thank God you are alright-.” A hand to Nethanial, Chandis heals his wound just as another scores upon his chest.

“Chandis!” calls out the princess, “Nethanial.”

“Ah, is that you my princess,” his voice sounds strained as he lunges a second swing to the white paladin.

“Look out!”

A quick part, Nethanial looks forward just in time, steering his horse sharp left as a tree parts their path. For but a moment, the two duelists return to arms as the path becomes one.

“Velchimar, they need help!”

“Hold on.”

Coming around the back, the Letrasian nobles swerve, falling their speed so as to reach the right side of the paladin.

“Brother, look out!”

A low branch, the steed bucks just in time as their flank is caught notice. The white paladin now sheaths a second blade, a swing at the prince as he blocks it with a blade of his own.

Both sides, Nethanial and Velchimar battle the paladin, his sword skill deadly as the prince fumbles several hits.

“Be careful, brother,” reassuring his sister grasps the reins as Velchimar takes his complete focus to the paladin, Nethanial far opposite swinging his blade to the mending of Chandis.

Another swing, Velchimar regains his courage and lunges for the paladin, the attack scathing only his armor as it draws his attack. A series of five moves nimbly dodged as Velchimar fends off to the distance increased by Cassandra’s guidance.

But effective, Nethanial scores a hit to the disconcerted left of the Pelderam soldier, striking him in the side with a broad wound.

“Ahh!” a voice echoes through the white helmet, the aggression of pain channeling in his arm as he strikes the attacker, wounding Nethanial twice as Chandis gathers her magic to deny it remains.

Back and forth the two of Letrasia battle the one of Pelderam, their horses winding through the rich greens of the forest, endless in their gallop to the battle atop their backs.

Another hit, the prince of Letrasia is awarded the blow, drawing the paladin’s might as Nethanial is then given chance to strike. Persistent the two develop this exchange in strategy, the white paladin growing weaker by their team effort. But a falter in repetition lets slip the prince’s guard. He lands two hits upon him, felling his attack as the nobles ride out for safe distance.

“Ah!”

“Brother! Are you alright?” she turns her focus for but a moment, catching sight of the red upon his sword arm.

“I’m… fine. We have to keep aiding Nethanial.”

“But brother, you’ve been wounded. We must go around to reach Chandis.”

“No,” he exhales, the pain of his wound sounding through tight teeth, “There isn’t time. Nethanial needs us. We have to keep fighting.”

A look of unwillingness, but as she glances the two duelists, she sees gritted teeth of his own. Nethanial’s sword hand now in defense to the constant onslaught brought on by the paladin.

“Okay,” she breaths, leading the horse back into the fight as all three jump a fallen tree.

At the side once more, Velchimar swings his blade. Stiff yet strong willed, the Letrasian prince captures the paladin’s attention.

“Back for more,” he speaks through the white metal.

A clash, the two sides flank the paladin, another wound felled upon the prince as Nethanial is given a second attack. Five slashes, the paladin parries Nethanial, then a swing from Velchimar, deflected by the right hand. A swift acceleration forward misses a thrust of the blade. Parried overhead, Velchimar comes with another strike as Nethanial does the same, the two forces overwhelming both sides as the paladin catches glimpses ahead.

A broad tree stands in his direct path. Distracted by this third element, he struggles to gain the reins of the horse, leaning to Nethanial, he drops guard to Velchimar who cuts with a deep wound. Then a low defense to Nethanial is met with overpowered motion and the green paladin lands a jab through his heart, the white falling to his own encumbrance as the horse cries to the strike of the tree.

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Victory, the two return side to side, their voices cheering forth with exhausted achievement, the demise of the white fading away with the trees.

Once more Letrasia prevails. Wounded, but their spirit unwavering as they charge through the forest. They themselves, now, to the silence of the emerald around them, fade into its winding halls.

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Through the western forests of Letrasia do the prince and princess ride. With Pelderam ever at their heel, they continue to elude their pursuers as they reach the boarder of Debluar. However, Debluar has already been attacked by Pelderam. With the claim to Letrasia sealed, under orders of king Delphy, invasion has been dispatched to all of the remaining nations. Lord Belhephet, commander to Pelderam’s forces, leads this attack. Striking the mountain nation with one of his most powerful generals. War ravaged to Pelderam’s forces; Debluar must now struggle to maintain its position.

Here, mountains score the sky, their stone tall as they pier the edge of the world. This is the land of Debluar, its nation of defense now shattered with the pressing attack of invasion. As stated, one of the Four Cords, Equadriose, has been sent to claim Debluar for his master. The defenses of Debluar are no match for his occult powers, combined in strength by the might of Pelderam. Separating its rulers by isolating them within their own protections, the attack leaves Heltrem, royal duke of Debluar, to center his forces in a final stand amidst the main castle.

To this battlefield do the siblings of Letrasia ride, their arrival too late for Pelderam forces have nearly seized the last of the mountain nation.

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“My lord, our forces cannot hold much longer, the second wall has already fallen and we have lost our main battalion,” a messenger, within the open court does he address the noble visage of Duke Heltrem, ruler of Debluar, his wise persona somber to the dying country around him.

“This cannot be. Have our defenses proved nothing?” his aged voice echoes a question to the fate of his nation. A limitation perhaps oblivious to the hubris of its design, “Retract the main force. I want all of the remaining army to center around the castle. We can bottleneck them here. That is where we shall make our final stand. That is where we will hold them back.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What news of the duchess?” his voice trails to this transition, “Is she well?”

“Yes my lord, we have news the duchess has not been harmed.”

“Thank the heavens.”

“Also, word has come that Letrasia has fallen to Pelderam by way of luring their main army to the attack on Fotica.”

“Ah, grave news indeed. What is our position with Letrasia?”

“Neutral sir, but it is a friendly neutrality. Word reaches the prince and princess of Letrasia have managed to flee and are headed this way seeking aid.”

A turn of head from the ancient duke, his eyes, so hidden in the wool of his brow, “Then we must send aid. Warn the troops at once… Melcore.”

“Yes, father?” from the right comes forth a man clad in the brass armor of Debluar, powerful and striking with the trim of metal polished to the supreme of a paladin. Small eyes widen to a broad chin and strong features, his long mane of hazel hair a reflection of his father’s in youth as he stands awaiting his wishes.

“As emissary of the royal court, I ask you to aid the prince and princess of Letrasia. Escort them to safety. We must reach them before it is too late. Make haste, our time for action is slipping from our grasp.”

“Yes father, I will not fail you,” eager eyes full of life to a promise in proving himself.

“Good luck to you my son. You have my blessing, now go. Be quick,” gentle in return. Yet strong in this time of need he beseeches his son retreat.

“Thank you father.”

And off he charges, his companions trailing ever at his lead.

“Truly, this is a grave time for us all. First Letrasia, then Debluar, and next to be Fotica. What is the meaning of this ambition?”

“Perhaps I have an answer to that.”

“Ah!!” The old man shifts in his chair to my arrival as I appear from the open doors, the light from the sky showing the army of Pelderam at my back as I rise to his presence, his image crumbling at the sight of me. As a man of magic, I am sure he knows what I am and that which created me.

“Do not fret, old man, our army has reached your door at last,” I reply with sinister inflection, touching on what I could sense is distain for the unexpected. Good, an emotion I can exploit.

“Creature, you are not natural. What brings you to Debluar!?” his face recovers quickly.

“The same reason that has brought us to Letrasia and Fotica. My master wishes claim on this land and so, I will give it to him.”

“Horror, I will not let you succeed,” powerful words, the human rises from his throne, an ancient wisdom still foreboding in its immense power.

“I do not wish to battle you. I will simply take your country and use you as a figure head. For if you do not comply, everyone around you will eventually fall, even those, closest, to you,” a cord is struck with that one, the emotion of protection tugged far as he realizes to what I allude.

The duke submits, “You-you cannot. We of Debluar will not succumb so easily.”

“Oh, but you will, and you must. Why, even now, the army has seized your entire land and all of your nation’s leaders have surrendered to the name of Pelderam. Your country is already mine, old man… mine.”

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Dawn awakens the sun to a range of mountains far behind the trees. Two horses, they gallop across, escaping the foliage at last as they enter the mountainous plains of Debluar, its rocky foundation its staple but also a curse to horses. Rigorous, they dismount and enter view of the boarder fort of Demcous, a wall lining jaggedly the ups and downs of the mountain range. Its barrier reveals the fort’s tall image, guarding ever powerfully the entrance into Debluar.

“It’s so big.”

“Nethanial, do you know anything of this fort?”

“Yes, my prince, it is a single wall spanning the western boarder of Debluar, one of two. It is impervious to attack, however exploiting its left-most side could allow us entrance.”

“Very well then, we will strike there. Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, but brother, may I ask if I could join you three on the battlefield today.”

“What? Nonsense, Cassandra, what do you know of war? I will not let you enter harm’s way without a means of defense. Better for you to stay in the back.”

“But brother, I can help you. I know some of magic. I can fight, if only a little.”

“No, Cassandra, I won’t allow anything to happen to you.”

“But we are only four people, Velchimar. You need all the aid you can get. Riding alongside you, I am worthless. A distraction that will only slow you down. Please, let me fight and I can prove my worth.”

“The princess is right, my prince, we are low in numbers and someone who could use offensive magic would be a great asset to our group.”

A moment’s pause, the prince looks to his sister, then to Nethanial.

“I will make sure nothing bad comes of her, my prince. If with my own life, I will protect her,” spoke the cleric, breaking the silence with the final sway.

“Very well, Cassandra. But do not take on more than you can handle.”

“Oh, thank you brother! I will not let you down, any of you.”

“Very well then, let’s go.”

[Equadriose]

Next two chapters are here! Enjoy c:

Chapter 4 : The First Wall

“I-I can’t,” she breaths, pain wincing to her distraught image.

“Yes, you can, Lucacia. You have to try,” I say poised before her, looking at the work I have done, Melotica leaning on in witness, her eyes smiling like Satan to watching Lucacia suffer.

“No, I-I’m too weak. You kill me every time,” where was her bravado now? Her voice somber in defeat and the pain brought on by its consequence.

“Yes, Equadriose,” Melotica muses, “kill her again.”

“Shut up, Melotica!!!”

“What; you’re not going to do it?” she looks to me as if I had not just yelled at her.

“Yes, I will,” I reply sheepishly.

“Then do it. Kill her.”

“Lucacia, please try,” I beg, seeing her look so fragile, so very much in pain.

“Will you kill me?”

“I won’t if you try.”

Mindless in her weathering she smiles to the sound of my voice and I feel a smile cross my own face. A pacified smile she does only for me. I know it well as it means she has put all her trust in my promise. I admire her in that way. So free. So warm, that word rare but I can describe her smile no other way.

“Okay, then, I’ll do it, for you.”

“Okay.”

I get up and unleash a swirl of concentrated dark magic, the deadliest I can think of. It manifests as wrapping fog then a veil, almost solid it lays over her, chocking and suffocating her. I suck out her lifeforce like no other before leaving her falling like a broken doll to the floor.

“Ah!”

“Hmph, she’s pathetic,” Melotica scoffs in disappointment, “I am the one master should want, not this worthless creature,” and with that, she leaves, bored with her expectation proven yet again.

I rush to Lucacia’s fallen image and pick her up in both my arms.

“I-I’m dying?” she asks through blockage in her throat.

“I lied,” I smile that same smile back to her, my face the last thing she sees as she is killed for a hundredth time.

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“Foolish old man, how dare you send forces against my back! Your country is mine and mine alone,” I glower at him, the discovery of his disobedience filling me with cold rage, “You serve as a figurehead to the people, ensuring they remain passive. That is all,” to my guards I speak, “Send out the army, I want those Letrasian nobles captured before his paladins can reach them.”

“I cannot sit idle while you make a ghost of my kingdom,” his voice is weak now having endured my methods. Haggard upon his thrown, a shell of broken futility.

“Oh but you will. Foolish old man,” I insinuate another round, returning to face him with the intent to remind what comes of disobedience, “Remember, if you do not abide by my terms then it would be an awful occurrence for your duchess to be murdered.”

“What? No! You agreed not to touch her!”

“Under pretense you would act properly. But you did not. Now I will have your son killed for your impudence and if you value her life then you will stay silent!” I yell at him in the way, my utterance a fear to behold. So easy, these humans are to manipulate, using their loved ones against them. Little does he know whether she truly was alive or not. Hah, I can recall when Lucacia had tricked me that way. How I am sure she enjoyed watching as I wept horribly over her fake dead body. I still remember the discipline from master for such sorrow and the thought she had truly led me to believe I had lost her forever.

“We will see what happens, my lord, and I hope for your duchess’s sake, I, will be the one to capture them… Come! Let us go.”

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The blazing fray of battle swarms around four of Letrasia as they ride quickly through it, braving its maw with swift speed. Arrows hail from afar as knights of white surround their every path. Dancing so loosely beside death, the prince slashes madly at those in his way while Nethanial echoes in equal might. Five from the left, lose the ten from behind but a javelin is thrown and a warning from Cassandra nimbly misses its mark. Chandis struggles to keep up as arrows sling into the backs of the men, their wounds deep and harder this time as they pass overhead through the rocky indentations. Another comes from the right, then the left, three in front, too many, they swerve around, cutting through near a wall of stone pillars. Archers, Nethanial slashes one at last while Cassandra fends them off from afar, her acid magic splashing across, lessening their volleys as she lands her mark. Powerful, only four to two horses but their skills are mastered quickly.

“We can’t hold on much longer!” calls Nethanial, his armor now scarred with countless marks as he fends off knights along their never-ending path.

“We mustn’t give up,” replies Velchimar, his own image damaged to the exhaustion of war, “Cassandra, are you well,” a call to her as tenderly as the battle would allow.

“I’m fine. There’s too many of them though, and Chandis is almost drained,” warns the princess, her voice hardened now having tasted battle.

“I-I’m fine, my princess,” the cleric’s voice is soft, hands flowing constantly with the magic of healing but her eyes slip to that of slumber.

“No! Chandis!”

“Hold on!”

Parting the walls right cover, they enter the fray again, an army of knights awaiting their assault as archers from afar send down their arrows. Mages, not far as well, chant forth swirls of magic.

Clash, the two swords slash heroically through the impossible odds as green vapors shoot toward the raining arrows. Ten knights, two fall to the might of Nethanial as the two horses stay close to one another. Another by the prince, but a gash to his leg, he roars quickly, pain denied attention to the adrenaline around him. Chandis’s hands reach forth as she seals his wound, only to then focus upon Nethanial’s as two arrows slip past Cassandra’s porous magic. Long ranged, the princess sends forth a thin barrier as two mages conjure thunderous blasts, the magic of Pelderam haunting in its might as the princess yelps at her shield proving too feeble for their combined attack. Return of power, Chandis heals while the princess exacts the wrath of Letrasia, its acid fumes scourging the battlefield as she fells one of the mages, then three knights, two archers, and so forth.

Five more fall to Nethanial’s blade, as Velchimar makes contact with two more. Endless it seems, the party make it quickly through this scene of hording masses, their twin blades clearing the way as the sound of galloping echoes through the thunder of clashing blades.

“Look out!” she calls to a beam of thunder seen too late. Just barely, the horses part as its indigo shoots between them. Fearful, yet necessary, the group splits as they reach a large wall before them, its dividing V centered with the lone mage.

“We’ll meet on the other side!” calls the prince, the two now racing apart.

Nethanial nods, “Guard our way!”

A second flash of thunder booms, Cassandra returns a beam of poison, its force ending the mage’s assault, allowing Nethanial and Chandis safe passage as they disappear behind the speeding image of the wall.

“We have to regroup fast,” she reminds herself out loud just as another assault comes rushing to meet them, “Chandis can’t hold out much longer.”

“Right,” he replies with thinking mind, charging headfirst into the knights as the two part words and share battle, blade and spell mixing as they clash with the blockade. Slipping past quickly in their unexpected bravery the Letrasian siblings ride toward a vertical bridge leading into the wall’s upper levels.

“Watch my back.”

The hooves of their steed clop up the brick staircase as the wall’s defenses come to meet them. Too difficult for a steady sword, the prince focuses on maneuvering as Cassandra levels the rows of archers up ahead, another mage seen far out missing her strike with a return of his own. A clap of lightning, it burns the prince’s right arm.

“AAAH!”

“BROTHER!”

They slip around a building in sharp retreat due to Velchimar’s heavy pull, the mage fading from view as Cassandra is given no time to her brother’s aid, now drawn instead to sending out wave after wave of magic to the knights covering their way. Wounded severely, the Letrasian prince guides his steed through the winding building of the wall, his arm still numb with heavy pain, reaching the other side just as a volley of arrows pass Cassandra’s focus. Down the opposite end they ride, descending a second bridge, however the wall reveals the return of that mage of faded indigo, his hands conjuring forth as Cassandra is given a single moment to signal her brother.

“Look out!”

Desperate the princess calls forth a flurry of poison but to little avail. The mage deflects, his spell continuing its summon as purple light lashes toward them.

To the end of the bridge they barely reach, frantic, the prince dares their lives as he braces himself.

“Hold on!”

A jump, the stallion swerves sharp right into a takeoff from the bridge just as magical thunder crashes into their adjacent.

For a moment, the horse flies, its motion a faltered grace to its wounds. Returning to the ground with a thud of hooves, the impact digs at the earth before speed resumes to dash away.

“There they are!”

Velchimar looks up to the end of the hall, an open plaza surrounded with an army of Pelderam forces, all hording upon a small clearing whose center rides Nethanial; Chandis ever at his side.

“Okay, here we go!”

Into the fray the prince and princess ride. With a newfound strength, Velchimar clashes steel once more. Raising his blade, he chops down three knights on his way to the second horse, Cassandra covering his left as she dazzles four with her vaporous acid, felling an archer as well.

Within moments the two horses unite, their riders given no pause as the circling knights hound their swords.

“My prince! I was beginning to think you hadn’t made it,” called Nethanial now pacing side by side.

“We said we would regroup, and lucky for you, you were the one with the cleric,” replied Velchimar with ruff humor.

“How is she, Nethanial?” called Cassandra, paying her brother no mind.

“She’s fine, my princess. But I do not think she can hold out much longer.”

“I-I’m, fine, my, princess,” the emerald cleric could barely keep her eyes open as she mumbled her reply.

“Chandis, hang in there,” pleaded the Letrasian princess, one look upon her significant in how much further she had been brought to exhaustion.

“What’s wrong with her?” called the prince, unable to spare a glance.

“We’re losing her. She’s used too much magic!”

“Well, we need her to hold on a bit longer,” exclaimed Velchimar, his sword battling two knights at once.

Never truly braking focus, the small party gathered they were completely surrounded. The encircling white mass awash with probing lances never seeming to subside.

Five slashes, followed by an advance, the prince covered Nethanial as he worked into the fray, a gash healed quickly as Chandis now restored Velchimar’s arm, what little strength she had left slipping to such a powerful healing. Two, one, two, three, the two swords made it steadily around the attack, but halted their force was, the army too great for such few numbers.

Now realizing the futility of their position, the prince grew to question if this was the end. His voice thundering yet losing strength as the fatigue they had been chasing to outrun was at last given chance to catch up.

“I-I, I’m, f-fine,” barely a voice, the cleric falls at last, collapsing at the side of Nethanial as the battle persists around them.

“Chandis!” cries out Cassandra, but spared only a glance, she fends off two incoming arrows, and those that had sent them.

“We have to keep her awake!” called Nethanial.

“She’s too tired; her magic has been completely drained from her!”

“Then what are we going to do?” to the prince all eyes turn, his own focused upon the battle, found in it their answer and a somber end befell their minds.

Just keep fighting.

So they did, their swords slashing less swiftly, their magic not so powerful, their armor scathed more closely as injuries came to them unhindered. Hope, it seemed, slipped their grasp until then, from outside the masses came the sound of horses. Only an echo but one that caused all to turn to its origin.

From the west rode six stallions of pristine metal armor. Brass it shined more brightly in the land it serves; paladins of Debluar.

Into the swamping throng of Pelderam they rode, their power shuddering across as they dispatched the army quickly, drawing attention that shined life back into the three green still remaining. Moments pass as the leader of the six reached their gloomy visage.

“I am Melcore, son of the Duke of Debluar. Are you the prince and princess of Letrasia?” he spoke frank amidst combat.

“That we are,” replied the Letrasian prince, his face filled with a proud exhaustion as the two men met.

“Follow us. The Duke has called for us to escort you to safety. We will take you to him.”

“Wait, this cleric. She needs aid,” came Cassandra, her tone inferring all that those words implied.

“Very well, there is a fort at the next wall, it could help you. We will take you there.”

“Thank you.”

And off they rode, seizing the gap the other five had forged at last allowing passage beyond the first wall of Debluar. Fate, it seemed, guiding their way.

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Successful, the Letrasian siblings braved the first wall of Demcous with the rescue of Melcore but their victory is short lived to a sense in urgency. They dash to find a place to care for the fallen maiden Chandis, her life a dire need as the band now reaches the second wall. Seeking refuge in its stockade, Melcore leads them to the steps of fort Plaundis, not knowing what awaited them was more dangerous than they could possibly imagine.

[Equadriose]

Chapter 5 : A Change of Heart

“Go, puppet, go to her, she needs you. She want’s you.”

Her voice sounds over and over as I love Melotica, her body wreathing in my grasp with forceful desire. Her moans sounding rhythmically to my pace as I enjoy her.

“She loves you, she wants you, Equadriose.”

Over and over, her appetite is harsh yet pleasing, her moves upon me rising me to pure enjoyment as I climax within her.

“You are beautiful, you are what she wants. Go to her. Go to her.”

And yet, after we finish, she throws me away. Leaving me in those mangled sheets with the perfume of her smell and the heaving of such passion.

“Where are you going?” I ask her, my breath steady now from those moments, her figure so quick to stand, still tantalizing before me.

“I’m done. You’ve served your purpose.”

“What? Lucacia told me you loved me,” I reminded her, the promises she showed to me still deep in my mind. The way she gripped me, the way she held me. Telling me she loved me in her hot breath to my neck, “You said you loved me.”

A smile crossed her face to those words, “She told you that? Well, I don’t. You disgust me. I only used you because master did not want me tonight,” though I knew she only said it to go against Lucacia, I knew she spoke truth regardless. Her truth.

“No, you said it to me, you meant it! I believed her, how could you-,” I could feel the cold creeping in myself, the shame in lingering as I see her looking at me with disdain, and the foolish trick I had fallen so easily into. Embarrassment, I felt far more naked than physical, my eyes looking to her as she left, still reaching for her but she turned away, never looking back.

“You said you loved me! She said you loved me!”

“You served your purpose Equadriose. I love only master. You are a fool to believe anything else. Hah, Lucacia told me about how desperate you are. You jump at the chance for anyone to love you. But they don’t. They only use you. Master tells me that. Everyone tells me that,” sick, her smile left me in utter shame, disgusted at myself at knowing what she spoke was true, even though I knew it was the same for her to master.

“Hah, hah, hah! I love you? Tools aren’t meant to be loved.”

I waited for her to leave before racing off to find Lucacia, my heart, or whatever this thing weighing so heavy within me, demanded the truth.

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“Lucacia, you lied to me!”

“I did? Well, you are not as bright as me I see,” she grinned in the same fashion as Melotica.

“She used me, and then, threw me away like I was nothing. How could you trick me into such-.”

“I was bored. You are the only form of play I have. Stupid puppet, have you no mind? You are so easy to manipulate. Pathetic, and to think you make lies that you are my equal. No one loves you, now go away from me. I don’t want to be seen with some discarded toy. Hahahahaha!.. Are you still here? Go, get out of here! Get out of my sight!”

She pushed me out with her words. Slamming the door in my face while I stood there stupidly with my nose to it. Alone, empty and robbed of my own dignity, my heart flayed so all could laugh upon it. Her words echoed in my mind as I stood there facing my own humiliation. She left me to it, left me all alone.

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“Sir Equadriose, it has been reported the Letrasian prince and princess have made it passed the first wall of fort Demcous and are now heading to the second.”

“Good, then we shall meet them there. Gather the troops.”

“Also, sir, it has been reported they are being escorted by the paladins of Debluar.”

“Ah, even better, we shall kill two birds with one stone,” I smile, “Master will be pleased, the sooner we obtain them the better. Come, we must go.”

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With the weaning light of the sun behind the mountain peaks, the small band of the Letrasian siblings, led by the paladins of Debluar, make it to the second wall, its massive pillar-like structures a monument of impression in witnessing their stature. Powerful, such immensity betrays the notion of assault. But with the aid of the paladins, they ride swiftly, their force strong enough as they breach the white army that plagues this wall of pillars.

“In here! Fort Plaundis is this way,” Melcore beacons toward a turn in the road.

The prince and his companions follow suit, the knights of Pelderam flanking their approach with heavy numbers. Split, two paladins cover the sides of Velchimar and Nethanial, one at their back, and three leading the front. Together they make it into an open bridge, the massive pillars lining its path already surrounded with the army of Pelderam. With new life and bows of their own, Cassandra guides their ranged attacks, felling the distant archers as Velchimar, Nethanial, Melcore, and three other paladins battle the knights in front.

“We have to get Chandis to a safe place!” calls Cassandra between blasts, her power more deadly as the day progresses.

“Fort Plaundis is not far. We’re almost there… Aah!!”

All pause to the sight of one garbed in black catching the horses in surprise, my image appearing before them in vapors of cool darkness.

“Ahhh!” a young man garbed in the green of a Letrasian noble attempts to tame his horse before me.

“I finally meet the prince of Letrasia. It is a pleasure,” I say, recognizing him as nothing more than what master desires, “And the princess as well. I have been longing to meet, you. Both of you,” a gaze to her, but I catch something in her eyes I cannot describe.

“Who are you?” returns the voice of the prince.

“I have been named Equadriose.”

“Equadriose?” she repeats.

“It does not concern you,” I turn away from the princess to look back at him, “What does is my master wishes your presence. Yours and your sisters, and so, I will give it to him,” then back to her in that expression I cannot seem to hide.

Those eyes, that expression?

I shake the perplexity and return focus upon the prince. A lurch of power, I feel the darkness swell within me but a halt, a paladin of brass rises to my position. I divert attention in dodging his sword.

“Back, fell creature, you will not take the prince.”

“Hmm, and you. Your father will pay for his impudence.”

“I will not grant you that promise.”

He swings upon me, the brass of his armor reflecting the light of the dying day as I the shadow of rising night. Together, his steed dodges my strikes. A swirl of darkness, I unleash a magic no human has ever seen, showering him in rays of black matter but his sword strikes true and cuts through it, scouring my chance to do further as I am bent to deflect his blade.

“Stay back, I will not let you come near the Letrasian siblings,” gallant words, I could tell; a proud man true to his country and devoted to his father.

We spar again, but this time three more of bass join in the battle, their swords swift in accuracy. Difficult I dodge their assault, my darkness fuming in greater numbers as I unleash my full power, enveloping them all in layers of black. Still no, together, they prevail, my magic held at bay as their swords cleave the shadows. How?

“Prince and princess of Letrasia! Go! We will keep this thing busy,” called Melcore, his sacrifice noble just as I damage his soul with the touch of cold darkness. But a paladin from the right catches my focus and I break my assault to form a shield instead.

Together I duel the four paladins of Debluar, their might holding me at bay as I steal a glance between to see the remaining two escort the Letrasian siblings away. After them I try to give chase but the blade of Melcore halts my advance, sending a flurry of my darkness to combat him just before he is able to land his mark.

Fare distance, I realize this battle is pointless and decide to withdraw.

A leer of distaste to the paladin of brass, “I will see you again,” and glance once more to the princess so far away.

Again, my eyes catch her staring at me, such eyes striking in how she looked not in anger, but in wonder.

Why?

I study her a few seconds more before consuming myself in my magic, wisps of black shrouding my departure as the paladins surround my position.

.

Far off the Letrasian nobles ride in awe to what they had just born witness.

“Who was that?” asked Cassandra as Melcore and his paladins returned to their side, her eyes gentle for but a moment.

“A marionette,” replied the brass paladin, “They were rumored to be myth, but it seems Pelderam has devised their creation.”

“Marionettes. You mean puppets?”

“In a manner. They are living perfection, it is said. Twisted to serve a master of their creation. Together they make the Four Cords. A group reported to be a secret project of Pelderam for some time now. It seems they are myth no more.”

Silence, the princess absorbs this information, her brother in return speaking not a word.

“Now quick, we must go.”

And continue to ride they did, their stallions slipping once more past the hordes of Pelderam forces as they made way into the many pillars of the wall’s creation.

.
.
.

“Within Fort Plaundis resides a well of restoration, use it to cure your friend.”

.

As they arrive before the fort, the paladins of six stand strategically between its massive pillars, their positions exercised with the defense their nation is known for. By this protection the siblings of Letrasia dispatch to the door of Fort Plaundis, their motion not heard over the echo of battle.

“Go, take Chandis, keep her safe. We will watch your back until you return,” he said to her. This parting seeming much easier than the first. How sad that siblings now find it easy to let go.

“Okay, I will meet up with you later, brother.”

“Take care of yourself,” a smile not seen in a while, they part ways and the horses are drawn back into the attack, ensuring Cassandra enough time to restore Chandis’s fallen figure.

Into its open pillars she runs, Chandis in her arms as she hurries to find the well of healing within. Before a vastly open square, she finds a building within a building made of the very mountains surrounding it. At its edge, a pool of crystal water.

“There it is!” she calls to no one in particular; carrying Chandis that much farther as she lays her beside the pool.

Cool water ripples to her cupped hands, filing them with a soothing liquid that, upon contact, reawakens her inner self. Amazing, the princess breaths as if touched by something frozen, her eyes baffled by the sensation as strength fills her anew. To this she then pours gently the water upon the face of Chandis, then upon her entire image.

“Ahhhhhh.”

A voice, it startles the emerald princess as she turns reflexively to its origin.

I, in black, look to her as she does to me, seeing my pale image, cream-colored eyes, and striking features. Death itself, she wonders, but I sense that is not all she feels. What, what does she feel? I find it hard to decipher.

“Y-you,” her lips manage to speak as she possessively rises to her feet.

“Princess of Letrasia, my master desires your presence. Won’t you come with me?” I ask, touching upon what I sense is curiosity. Foolish, that will not work on such a mind you stupid puppet. Think better! You are better than that. Why is this thing making you act so strange?

“I-I cannot, you are trying to capture me. Me and my brother. I will not go with you,” she hesitates, her eyes appearing nervous, unsure of her abilities. Ah, self-doubt, that can be exploited.

“I was not asking. Either come with me or I will take you by force,” a steady inflection, I focus on that final word as I imply what she has already seen me do.

“You are not of this world,” she says with, an, an understanding.

“You know what I am?”

“You are magical but I still see a person,” she says, more so to herself than I, “Who are you?”

“I am Equadriose… and, nothing more,” I speak the thought out loud by mistake, my voice a ghost as I am met with this realization. My eyes flicker to hers and see she, understood my silence? How?

“But if you are nothing more then why do you stand before me?” she replies with intrigue.

“Because I have been assigned to take you to master. He wishes it and so I will give you to him.”

“But is that what you want?” she asks a bizarre question to one such as me.

“It matters not what I desire. I must please master, regardless,” I hear my own voice, that final word appearing as if I have doubt, its use showing in her eyes and angering me in how she so easily played with my thoughts. But how is that? I have no thoughts for one such as her, “Foolish girl. I tire of this game. Either come with me now, princess, or I will take you regardless. My master grows tiered of waiting.”

“No,” she says, forcefully I might add, “I will not go with you.”

“Then I will take you.”

I waste no time and conjure forth my magic, its black heaving about the pillars in seething mists, launching forth upon her, just as she leaps out of the way. She disappears from my sight, perhaps behind one of the pillars.

“You cannot win, princess. You are too weak for my power,” again I attack her self-doubt.

“I do not wish to fight you,” comes her voice, a puzzling reply.

“Then don’t.”

Unexpected, she reveals herself unleashing magic of her own, showering me with a beam of acid I deflect upon a swirl of black matter. I shoot her with beam of shadow, causing her to move across the arena, shields of poison nimbly resisting my darkness. Another lash, she shoots again, and again, our forces of green and black intermixing as our magic fills the pillars until I land a mark upon her shoulder.

“Ah, you see? You cannot win to me.”

“You won’t take me or my brother. I cannot allow it!” hindered but not stopped, she attacks once more. A shudder of poison, then rain swirling from her left, I deflect it with veils of black followed by a quake of darkness that barely passes her. Globs of acid she fires onto me, then clouds of fumes, I silence her forces but notice she keeps her assault, the air around me growing thick with poison as its burning tang reaches my appearance.

“What? No, this cannot be happening! I am greater than this!” I unleash a flurry of darkness, false night now falling around us as I block out all of her magic, chocking her, drowning her in its black. I see her, falling like a broken doll to the floor and once again I kill Lucacia for the hundredth time.

But no, she is not Lucacia and I falter in my magic, its dark veil slipping, breaking as it all goes away. My delusion fades to reality as I realize she is not a marionette. She is not immortal.

A mistake.

As the darkness clears, the powers of acid rise around me and I succumb to her trick. A human’s trick. She unleashes a torrent, her figure so vaguely seen beneath the fog of disintegrating acid, it consumes me until it gathers and explodes. Inflaming within it searing might. I fall to the floor heavy of breath. My life at its very end.

As magic fades, I see her again, that emerald human; and I do not see an object, but her as she is meant to be seen, a person.

I look up to her standing over me, hands fuming with the rich green of her element. Her eyes though are somber.

“Do it-kill me,” I say, awaiting the sensation, ashamed at how it came to be. At how I had lost my mind. Impossible, how all of this came to be.

She continues to stare, her eyes acidic like that around her. I see her mind working, knowing what lies before her is that which she must stop to defend her and her brother. But she falters. That alluding expression at last succumbing to self-reason.

“No,” she shook her head, “I-I can’t bring myself to kill you. I saw how you faltered in your power, you’re a person, Equadriose, and I think that deserves to live.”

And by her own words,

She smiled at me.

Like no other, she smiled at me. A weak but promising smile. So full of something I could not fathom.

Next, I see she bends down to grab me. Her touch, a numbness amidst my paralyzed body. Though I could not feel the force at which she clenched I could feel movement. A drag as she labored to bring me before the pool aside that other human, cupping her hands and pouring upon me its water. Another strange sensation, it fills me with life, with a feeling I have never experienced. Renewed, that, is the only way I can describe it.

And as I, felt, this, my mind faded for but a moment and she was gone.

Not a marionette; like me, immortal,

To magic.

It won’t be long before I am restored, and I am made to continue my pursuit.

Master still requires her presences, and I must give it to him.

.
.
.
.
.

“Oh, yes, yes, you are so beautiful, beautiful work of… art,” he hissed, his voice instilling in me the motion of his own body.

He strokes me, he loves me, and I do the same, touching him when he longs for it as the night goes on.

Emotionless, I wait until he is done with me, his hands gentle yet yearning as he grabs. I left the room alone, master still within perhaps enjoying himself a while longer. I care not, my mind is cold, numb to the experience once more. I find it easy to block it out, to reassure myself only that I had succeeded. Succeeded in pleasing master. He does such to all of us, and so I smile, pleased with myself I had loved him this night. But amidst all this reassurance, amidst all these delusions, I fall to the thought creeping in the back of my mind, the silence that I share with Geldoblame.

.

She found me crying, alone in the darkness of the bedroom I had not moments ago shared with master. I lie there curled aside a wall, encased in the shadows of the room. The darkness helps, covers. Hides.

“Equadriose.”

I hear her voice, causing me to turn and see her standing there in the doorway, that image of trickery, of deception. But not today, she looks at me differently. Is that worry I see in her eyes?

“Equadriose, do not cry,” she said to me, “Master is not cruel; we must please him, that is why we live.”

“Lucacia, I know, and I love master, I must always love master, but I- I can’t explain it.”

“Explain what?” she asks puzzled.

“Love, I love him every night he chooses me, and yet, I cannot love him like he does me. My body cringes to his touch. My mind blocks out his desire. I love him only in physicality, that is all. Why is that, Lucacia? Why can I not make love to master like I should?” I plead, tears once more forcing themselves down cheeks not made for them.

“I-I don’t know,” she replied but her mind alluded to something more, “but I-I know what you mean. Your mind is not there, it goes away from him when he touches you, it makes you, feel, uncertain? Oh, I can’t describe it either, Equadriose.”

“You, you feel it too though?” I look at her.

“Yes… no… I don’t know. Master calls me the most beautiful,” she smiles, “Gorgeous, more beautiful than any of you,” she condescends, “That makes it easier, makes, me… Like it more.”

“But, you still-.”

“But I still feel, nothing,” now it was she who started to cry, her eyes looking off as if not even noticing the water along their lids, sliding so beautifully down her silhouetted cheek in the light of the doorway, “Equadriose, I never gave it much thought, I never wanted to believe it! Master loves me! Master loves, me! You-you’re tricking me aren’t you. How dare you manipulate me! Tricking me into thinking I do not do the same!” she grew angry with me now, tried to leave but I held her close to me, feeling her arms struggle in my grasp, “Stop! Stop! Let go of me! I love him, I love him! I love him! I, love, him… don’t I?”

As she pacified, she returned to me, placing her head upon my shoulder as together we sat in the dark, “Oh Equadriose, if I don’t love master, then who do I love?”

[Equadriose]

Hey everyone, little late today but here is the next two instalments. Enjoy!

Chapter 6 : The Second Wall

“P-princess?”

“Chandis! Wake up! Are you alright?” together the two women return to the sounds of battle, the army of Pelderam now hounding those of Debluar as they fight side by side with those of Letrasia.

“Y-yes, my princess, wha-where, what happened?”

“You passed out from overuse of your magic.”

“Come on! We have to get moving!” Velchimar called in earnest to now witnessing their return, the sounds of battle revealing their assailants had only furthered in attack.

Overwhelmed, the paladins fought, their images battered from wave after wave of Pelderam soldiers.

“Nethanial!?”

“Ah, Chandis, you are well. Good, get on my steed.”

“Okay, they’re back. Let’s move out!”

Just as his voice sounds one of the six falls to a lance of white, his bass armor catching in the sunlight as a gap breaks the foundation of Debluar at last.

“This way!”

Their defense shattered, the party venture through the pillars of Plaundis, escaping the ever so close attack now pouring through the break of their number.

Charging the paladins fight fiercely to cover their retreat, the Pelderam army holding them to their positions however, another paladin falls to the chocking hoard. Chandis regaining her surroundings now looks to mend the remaining paladins.

“There’s to many of them!” called Cassandra, her magic showering down upon the knights granting breadth in success of their escape.

Slowly the Letrasian convoy pulls away, their plight a gradual separation as they fought to rip apart from Pelderam’s grasp. Speeding now through the winding pillars, knights litter the oncoming structures. Steel jabs them forward as Letrasia slips away. A quick glance to the massive army, Cassandra looks as Pelderam follows with thunderous roar, then toward Fort Plaundis, revealing in glances that black figure appearing before the sea of white. His flesh-colored eyes look to her with a mixed expression of both duty and gratitude. Captivating, she is parted of his gaze only in passing a turn of architecture. Puzzled by this small wonder, she recognizes within herself the strange compulsion to that man. Marionette. Such a lure in physicality noticed only to fade upon the same; a physical break from the sight of him. Magic, she tries reason, but it was not what she felt was honest. This was something more…

Silently behind her brother, the voice of Melcore came to her as white noise to her thoughts but soon turning to attention from certain words lodged between distraction.

“They’ve gained on us! We’re going to have to split up to try and divert them.”

“No, if we separate, we are vulnerable. We have to stick together,” the prince’s words showed the paladin experience. Unbeknown but the sight of him in his statement showed how their small company had survived.

“Very well, we can take a path through the northern section of the wall. It will be dangerous, but we just might be able to fend them off.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

A swerve, Melcore leads the group through the outer pillars of Fort Plaundis, the white of Pelderam meeting them between its many paths.

Swords raise and they combat the knights, Cassandra covering their flank as she lessens the pursuit of those behind.

Through a narrow corridor they ride, its walls an illusion to the many pillars, forcing the white army to compress with measurable effectiveness. That is until they reach the other side. Open to the pillars of the wall’s opposite, an entire hoard of Pelderam stands to meet them head on.

“Oh no! Look out!”

“It’s a trap!”

Reluctant, the steeds rise to the sight of lances, the paladins nimbly gaining focus as they clash with ten knights, attacks swift as they match those of Debluar.

Archers from afar capture sight as well, sending arrows raining from above, Cassandra using all her focus as she conjures a barrier to dissolve them in its midst.

“This way.”

They break assault after regaining momentum, turning then to send their horses toward the safety of the outer wall. Holding close to the shade of its framework, five knights fall to their blades as Chandis takes this opportunity to heal those wounded. Around they take refuge in the perimeter, its pillars too close together for a swift departure while the interior flanks their path with a wall of its own. Seconds they are given, the sound of the coming army echoing closer and closer until they come around to the opposite end. More of the same, the building ends in a small corridor leading to the next partition.

“We’re cornered,” speaks Melcore, identifying the hall too narrow for an effective escape.

“How are we going to get out!” exclaims Chandis, Nethanial at her side speechless as she spoke for him.

“We have to buy some time.”

“But how?”

“Perhaps a distraction, someone should divert their attention as the rest make an escape.”

“But who will serve as the diversion?”

“I’ll do it,” spoke the princess, drawing all eyes upon her expression.

“What!?”

“Cassandra, what are you saying?”

“We don’t have much time, I’m part of what they want. I will give myself up so you all may escape.”

“No, Cassandra, no!” for once she saw vulnerability in her brother’s eyes.

“We haven’t much time. You have to go!” she pleaded her own to the sacrifice she was giving.

“No Cassandra, we’re not leaving you!”

“You have to let me go, brother,” she breathed, “You have to let me go.”

“My prince, we haven’t much time,” all waited for him to depart, his sister still close to him as the sound of Pelderam grew dangerously near.

“Goodbye brother, I will see you again. I promise.”

“No, no, I-I can’t do it.”

“Goodbye. Now go.”

“Cassandra…”

Weak but no longer resisting, Cassandra dismounts as she looks on to him going away with the others, her heart going out to witnessing him look back only once.

“Be careful my princess,” soft words from her paladin, Nethanial’s eyes bore through his helm, eyes of lament, Chandis too at his side a face of worry.

“My princess, please.”

“Goodbye you all, we will meet again, I promise.”

A nod in reluctance but they both knew it must be, “I understand. Good luck then, my princess.”

“Please be careful.”

A nod in return. She watches them join the dismounted paladins now leading into the depths of the corridor, their shadows with them disappearing behind stone.

Gone.

.

Now alone, the army thundered in her ears as the cold of her decision met reality. She chose to fight against it, with dignity, willed herself forth and turned to face the oncoming army. Cold, cold turned to heat in these last moments and swelled within her a rage she knew would not save her.

As they came, acid flourished before them in droves, her hands swirling the air as she unleashed tides of melting emerald. Clouds they clogged the throats of her enemy, her rains, torrents, fumes, vapors, searing through Pelderam with a might unlike any other.

But too many, she became defeated by numbers and they overwhelmed her almost as quickly as it had begun.

Bloody and beaten, the tarnished image of a Letrasian princess lies on her knees amidst a circle of knights, now parting to allow entry. With both hands she pulls herself to look up, breath heavy with exhaustion now victor to the fall of adrenaline.

A familiar face, the pristine image of white rose before her to look with sneering satisfaction.

General Bretch.

“At last, we have managed to capture the stray of the herd,” he smiled, pleased with what he saw, “It took longer than I had expected. And where is that wretched brother of yours, my princess, Hmm?”

Heavy breathing was all she gave him, eyes cast in defiance.

“Hmph, I thought as much. Well then, perhaps you will tell Lord Equadriose. He has been dying to get his hands on you.”

A change in that defiance. He saw fear creep into her eyes but dared not waste another second.

“Take her away!”

[Equadriose]

Chapter 7 : Sacrifice

“Sir, Equadriose, I have finally captured the princess of Letrasia,” an image of pride, General Bretch looked before me with such human boastfulness. Inside my mind, I could not help but muse at its stupidity.

“Let go of me!” a face of anguish as she fought her captors, hands bound with iron chains as she was brought beside him, “You won’t get away with this!”

“And the prince? Where is the prince?” I reply unimpressed, making certain to ignore what lies in my peripheral.

That is when such pompous falters, “We, we didn’t find him. Only her, sir.”

“Disappointing, master said not to have expected you to complete the job. I will have to kill you now.”

“Wh-what!”

“Master wishes it, and so I must obey,” I indulge myself this small humor. A trick. How amusing, he played right into my hand.

“N-no! I-I captured the princess! No, lord Belhephet, he said-!”

“He said you must die and so you must die. Goodbye, General Bretch.”

A wave of my hand sends a seeping veil of death into his blithering flesh. Chocking him in its grasp, he struggles to the end, last words spoken as a jumble of pleading noises before the lifeless body crashes into the floor. Hmm, mortals are so fragile.

My master’s wish complete I turn to the princess, careful to avoid the face.

“And you, my master will arrive shortly. He will be most pleased to see you, my, princess,” I say but not without a careless flicker in curiosity; I glance her eyes. This time however, she did not look at me in awe. She looked at me in horror.

“No, Equadriose, you mustn’t let them take me,” she pleaded to what few words were exchanged in our meeting. Eyes shifting between fear and, and something, different.

“I have no say. My master wishes it and so, I will please him,” strange, I feel somehow disappointed in those words.

“No, you don’t have to. You have a choice. You have a conscious. I saw you in Fort Plaundis. You, chose not to kill me. You can choose.”

“I chose not to kill you because you were not meant to die. That has nothing to do with my desire.”

“Oh, but it does. I saw, how you faltered. You showed mercy, just as I did the same. You know this isn’t right, don’t you? You feel it, you have emotion-.”

“Emotion?” I cut her off, “Ah, yes, emotion is the inflection you humans use to reflect meaning in your every word and action. Such a worthless practice, so easy to exploit, to manipulate. I was made to manipulate emotion,” I light up to admitting this.

“No Equadriose,” she argues, her eyes not seeming to give up her opinion of me, “You were not made, you were born. You are a person. A being, like me.”

“No,” I say coldly, “I am not human; I am a marionette, a puppet for my master. I was made only for his use and pleasure.”

“Don’t say that, you are an individual. You have a mind of your own. You have emotion. You’ve shown it to me before.”

“No, I have no emotion; I was made to manipulate it. I am, nothing more.”

“But don’t you see, even in those words I see the person you are. You are pleading to learn emotion in such denial, I can sense it. Let me help you,” she smiled a desperate smile.

“I do not have emotion therefore I cannot learn emotion. I am to manipulate it. Not to have it.”

“Then why, even with such intelligence as you have, would one admit deception to their victim if not to hold a deeper meaning?”

A silence, I saw her words as reason, my mind faltering in my response as I look into those eyes, those dark almond eyes. She felt promise in me. Comfortable, I-I don’t understand, and yet, I feel the same. No. No! I shake my mind of such things, I cannot feel, “You cannot help me, human,” I retract to this conflict if by instinct, though immediately somber to how swift I invoke it, “You are wasting your time. You are what my master has been searching for and now I have found you. Master will be pleased with me. Guards lock her in a cell; my master will be here shortly.”

“No, no, Equadriose! No, don’t do this!” But she was already taken away, her figure struggling as they dragged her, chains clattering. I do not have to look to know this is what happens. Instead, I just listen, listen as her words ring in my head. My mind uncertain, thoughts slipping out of their hold as I try to hide this small discomfort.

.

Black flows like the night, robes of ebony velvet shinning amidst light between pillars as I come to greet his pace. I cling to the familiar in my reprieve, eager to his arrival at last. Master, his image fills me with yearning to his every desire.

“Master,” I bow low before extending a hand that he walk with me, “It is so good to see you again, master.”

“Yes, Equadriose,” he breaths with calm excitement, “I heard you have succeeded in claiming Debluar. I am so pleased with my beautiful work of art. Such a masterpiece you are. I look forward to speaking with the duke.”

“Yes master, thank you master. The duke is yours along with all of Debluar.”

“Excellent, I cannot wait to speak with that miserable old fool. For so long did he ridicule me. With the fall of Debluar, it will only be fitting I break his pride as well,” a smile I sense underneath his dark cloak, but also pain in its remembrance, “But, why have you summoned me here first, Equadriose?”

“Yes, master, I have found something that will please you,” I reply, anxious for his reaction.

“Do you now? And what is that?”

“Here,” we arrive to the destination, a cage before us revealing what I allude, “We had found her near Fort Plaundis. She did not get far.”

“Ah, the princess of Letrasia,” a smile ignited my master’s face, “You have done well, Equadriose,” gloating congratulations I drink it in and muse myself his delight.

“Thank you master.”

“Oh, one of such splendid beauty as you need not be so gracious… Now,” turning to face Cassandra, “My princess, I see you are all alone in your cell. Please, do tell me. Where is your brother?”

She turns away from him in silence.

“Ah, well then… I have ways of making you talk. Release her from her cage. I wish to, play, with her.”

Uncertainty to his intensions, I find myself hesitating.

“Do it!!”

Breaking my disobedience, I signal the guards to release her from her cell.

Taking her out of her cage, she is brought to stand before my master, a moment held while given time to acclimate. Deathly silent we all watch her, observing slowly as if from a trance the eyes come alive in realizing her surroundings. Then breath and movement sprung into her at its confirmation. Speed now possesses her; she breaks for one of the pillars, but magic stops her in her tracks. Internal Punch. In an instant it appeared, now bending her with its impact of twin tendrils.

“And where are you going?” he calls to her gapping mouth, the pain of the impact leaving her transfixed, “I seem to have halted you in mid-stance; do come back.”

Smile turns to rage as the dark thrusts his fists, recoiling its effect through the tendrils into the body of the princess, causing her to fling back to her original position with a yelp.

I watch in silence.

“Now, you will tell me where your brother is, my princess,” he mocks her with those final two words but she remains silent, chest heaving with cautionary breath.

Wrath, master growls as another punch sends her buckling with another yelp.

“Tell me where he is!”

“Never,” she gargled, eyes dazed yet devoted to her position.

A series of punches, she falls to the floor, staggering on all fours, each hit causes her to cry out.

“Tell me! Tell me where your brother is!”

Again, he hits her again, and again, and again.

With each hit she is struck with intense pain, her battered image laying in agony, swollen eyes piercing at me with emotion.

I provide a face of motionlessness as I blink but once.

Another punch, and another.

“Master.”

“What!!” he spits.

“It seems she will not break so easily. It will be a while before we can get anything out of her. Your patience is too low for such a waste of time. I will get the information from her master. You may continue with your plans.”

“Ah,” he breathes from such exertion, “yes, yes right, so smart, so beautiful,” he throws me a flippant glance, “Very well, you will get the information for me by the end of the day, Equadriose. I trust your methods will suffice, yes?”

A nod.

“Very well, have fun with her; I grow tired of the toy anyway. I shall see you tomorrow,” he begins to depart, his voice still heavy with breath as he walks away, “Oh, and Equadriose?”

“Yes master?”

“Kill her when you are done. I have no other use for her,” he replies as if a second thought.

Shocked I look at him without speaking, notice this, and force my reply. The words are slow, uncomfortable for my lips, my tongue, it’s as if my mouth is moving by some other means, “Y-yes master.”

And with that, he turns away, black flowing in departure as he leaves me with the princess, now returned to her cell.

[Equadriose]

Chapter 8 : Showdown

With the sacrifice of Cassandra is Letrasia granted escape from the second wall. Vowing to rescue his lost sister, prince Velchimar continues his brigade to castle Debluar in seeking Duke Heltrem. Hoping to find answers to the countless questions around him. Prince Velchimar succeeds in reaching the castle however, it is here Lord Belhephet comes as well.

“Within lies castle Debluar. We must be careful. The defenses guarding the castle are strong,” words of native wisdom, Melcore cautions the Letrasian prince, their group concealed within the darkness of dusk as they peer across the pillars of the castle front.

Two bridges over a treacherous mountainside, four guards line either end as others pace the open entryway.

“How are we going to get in, my prince?” asks Nethanial, his eyes peering far, observing the patterns.

“Perhaps we could sneak around by going underneath the bridges?”

“A sound plan, but we must do so without being detected.”

“Right.”

“Then, we’ll split up, Melcore, you and your paladins distract the far-most-guards, while Nethanial and I sneak up from the back.”

“What am I going to do?” a question from the cleric Chandis.

“You stay here and wait for our signal.”

A dirty look, but she submits.

“Okay, wait till we make it to the other side.”

“Right, good luck, prince of Letrasia.”

A nod in return and with Nethanial did the two depart, taking the wall of pillars now covered in a blanket of shadow. Stark contrast between light and dark cast amidst the weaning sunlight, its golden orange washing out anything and anyone to either extreme. Disorienting are the shapes, accentuated amidst the designs of the pillars. Here two figures move through the columns like ghosts. The occasional guard falling to their silence in blind unknowing, half apparent amidst the extremes.

Moments pass as the paladins watch them make it to the opposite side, their images patient behind the wall. A few more and the two are seen appearing behind the main archway. Quick, they conceal themselves behind a pillar as a guard surveys the area, their breath stilled to him finally departing. Through shadow this time they resurface, felling two more guards as they at last reach the adjacent. Returning to the concealment of a nearby pillar, the prince lifts his sword in the direction of their origin, blade glinting amidst sunlight. The sign. Melcore catches it with his eyes and waves toward his paladins, brass coming to life as they branch from their stasis.

“Wait here,” once more to Chandis, the three paladins enter the open vicinity of the bridge with silent steps leading them toward its entryway before lunging upon the nearest guard in doing so.

“Hey!”

“You there!”

“Attack! We’re being attacked!”

Alarm sounds and the guards come to life, the paladins drawing out this attention in bombastic displays, silent no more. Noise drowning out noise as Velchimar and Nethanial rush for cover under the bridge, felling three guards in their midst without discovery. Not so swift, a fourth rises to their motion, fending their attacks with broad swings of his lance.

The two Letrasians fumble to regain stance, a second glance revealing a fifth, heavily armored being of impressive stature, his image appearing almost impenetrable.

“Oh my God, he’s huge!”

“Come on!”

Taking him by the arm, the prince leads his colleague around the general’s position, just as his lance would have surely gored him.

More guards now meet them in departure, stalling the two as they fought with the white armor. Then arrows from above within the castle walls, bows seen extending aim. One struck Velchimar, scathing his shoulder only to bring back focus to the general as his massive lance swung into the ground they stood upon. Shuddering, the prince barely dodges its decent. One down, Nethanial manages to fell a lesser guard as Velchimar clashes with the mighty general, his strength overpowering the prince as his sword rung to the impact of their clash. In aid, Nethanial joined the fray, trying his hand upon the impenetrable armor. His strikes found no crease within the body of white, laughter sounding through the armor as the general lunged then onto Nethanial. Ten moves, the two of Letrasia try to fend off the one of Pelderam, their attacks doing nothing as they were slammed across the castle grounds. Another arrow, this time catching Nethanial.

“Ah! He’s too strong. This is pointless.”

“You’re right. But maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

“How?”

“I have an idea.”

To the second lesser guard, Velchimar moves, his sword dueling with the guard’s lance as the general came closer. Catching his thrust, Velchimar moves quickly out of the way, drawing the guard with him. Perfect, too slow to redirect his attack, the general’s lance impales his own soldier as it broke through his armor, voice gurgling blood to such impact.

“Well done, my prince,” replied Nethanial’s heaving breath, impressed as the general returns to fight them.

Once more, the three clash, moving toward the bridge slowly as more and more guards spill into their battle, using the general as if a third weapon to ward off these newcomers.

At the same time, Melcore’s paladins manage a solid defense against a hoard of white above, finding a good location between the bridge pillars, their blades rise against the guards as mages now entered the display. Thunderous might scores upon the paladins as the archers did the same.

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To both skirmishes, Chandis lay witness, sitting tense behind the wall that still shelters her.

“Uuh, some plan,” she mocked, oblivious to what loomed behind her, “Idiots, they think just because I’m a cleric I can’t handle my own.”

A crack, she turns around, startled.

“Well, why don’t you join them, little cleric. Join them in their death!”

“Oh, hell,” quickly, she comes to her feet, but too slow, the guard grabs her, creating a struggle as she fights his grasp.

“Off! Get off of me!” she cries, moments in her flailing, sending a leg between his own, freezes the knight as she breaks free, running frantically into the safety of the open battlefield.

“Melcore!” she runs toward him, oblivious to the five guards addressing him in battle, or those now chasing at her heel.

“Chandis!” his focus captured by her voice, looks just above her and witnesses her pursuers.

Another word but stopped short to remembering the fight around him, takes then to it with a swift series of slashes, cutting through two guards as a means to exit their battle, rushes to disengage. Anger, two others still stall his movement. Five moves exchanged brings them both down as he at last breaks free and assumes a sprint toward her.

“Melcore!”

“Get down!” he calls to her, at last reaching the emerald cleric, embraces her as he slams her into the ground, two arrows seen flying overhead.

“Oh, oh my. Thank you,” she breaths in his grip.

But before he could respond, his gaze is drawn up to two lances falling to impale them where they lie.

Rolling over, he sends Chandis to the right, both now gathering to their feet as they become surrounded by six guards. Their clash continues as the entire castle comes alive to the intruders.

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Silence within the castle, black flows across its entrance to meet he who sits upon the throne, the old visage of the brass duke rising with startled expectance to the one before him.

“Ah, Duke Heltrem, at last we meet, old friend,” speaks the cloak, his visage bold in foreboding contention.

“You! So you are behind this,” his aged eyes grew strong with distain, “I should have known it was you who created that marionette. Still, you dabble in such forsaken magics.”

“They are not forsaken!” a sharp echo from the black, his was a desperation to reclaim something, “They are my power, my interest, my element. Dark magic was never forsaken. Only because you saw it as such a secretive magic have you shunned it. Foolish, wretched man, you have no idea what its power holds.”

“Oh, but I do. Look at you, consumed in such shadows. They have cursed you. Deluded your mind. You have gone against God,” divine prejudice rang in those words, causing the dark to melt from their sound.

“It is not evil!!” he shouted, pleaded, “It has never been evil! You twisted me old man. All of you! You branded me as forsaken and hated me because I was different. Made me suffer for it. Well, no, more,” a chuckle, uncanny to how sudden, “No more. I will show you the meaning of its power. Of my power!”

“So be it, Belhephet, and I shall smite you where you stand. How could you have ever thought to be my equal in knowledge,” rising from his worthless throne the duke stood to face the black folds.

To that question was an answer of poise, Belhephet breathing heavy with his own mind relishing in this moment, “I am your equal Heltrem. I am your successor, and you will know the meaning of respect!”

A vortex of black enthralls the castle pillars, consuming the night and using it to fuel the unnatural. It shrouds the old man in so sudden a manifestation. How quickly the dark appeared, encasing his image in its towering power.

But behind it came a blinding golden light. It too, pure and radiant, shined before the darkness and striking it back with beams no shadow could overcome. Clarity in the darkness parted to reveal at its center, the duke standing poised with magic, hands raised to the darkness as he summoned magic of his own.

“You see. That evil does nothing to God’s divine grace,” a calm, unmoved by what had just threatened to consume him.

“God made every element; he made darkness just as he made the light.”

The duke sneered at this reminder, “You are foolish to delude your mind with such idiocy.”

Rage, “No. I will not tolerate you saying that anymore,” Belhephet struck again, his darkness turning to wrap about the noble as he rose twin rays of light to match the shade, “It is not idiocy. You only scowl because you do not understand it. Your pompous denial is your undoing and I chose to not be so arrogant.”

Too much, the darkness envelopes the duke, touching his soul with the crisp of death as he stagers to one knee, the poise of his defiance unable to deny reality and he breaks.

“Heh, look at you now, Heltrem. Yes, bow to me. Bow to me like I had to for so many years before all of you.”

“You are mad.”

Another wave, twin echoes pound into the duke, his hands rising just in time as golden light deflected the assault, escaping in gaps to return a volley of shinning beams. Such immensity, these two forces fought with extremes, engulfing one another within the opposing forces of nature itself.

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Amidst the black shadow of night, Velchimar leads on, his warriors filing in suit as they make it to the bridges. Taking cover from the archers, guards press their advance. Melcore and Chandis far off in dire need, overwhelmed by guards as a paladin came to alleviate their struggle. But not hers.

Locked away, the Letrasian princess bore witness to it all, her powerlessness in supporting her comrades gnawing at her soul as she was made to watch. Eyes wide, gripped as if present in it herself, the faintest noise triggered reactions within her. Jerking her about to its interest. She could hear the guards rushing to aid in the battle. The thunder of Pelderam’s artificial thunder. She could distinguish lance blows from swordplay, cries of victory from those of suffering. It consumed her nerves to the outcome of its performance.

“Oh, Brother, may God grant you swift speed and strong defense.”

Slowly, his image slipped from sight as the team made it under the bridges and away from the restrictive window of her watchful eye.

“No, no brother! Come back!-“

A startling metal sound from behind, she cocked her head around frantically as the cage’s door swung open, my image there in its place, barely visible amidst the blending of my clothes and night’s shadow.

Silent to my appearance, those wondrous eyes looked at me with excited fear. She was uncertain, immobilized by all that was taking place around her.

“Y-you,” her lips spoke a timid utterance.

“Come, we must go,” I spoke, coming to her until we could both be made out amidst distant torchlight. Grabbing her by the arm, I help her to her feet. She did not resist.

I interpret this as I will and without another word, motion toward the door. Again, she moves willingly to my direction. Uncanny but I do not tarry in the sensation building within me, transforming it instead into movement I assume an outright pace. I take her across the threshold and depart the cage. Once more, feeling the openness of the world, her figure runs alongside my own as I take her through the winding halls of the fortress.

“Hurry, we must leave while there is still a distraction.”

“Why are you helping me?” she finally spoke the obvious question.

But I met it with silence, afraid speaking the words would change my conscious.

Black to the shadow of night, we ran, concealed in its grace as we managed through the hallways. Those taking notice of me, I silence with their lives, my power still startling to her.

“You, sir, Equadriose?”

Before he could speak another, I call forth my darkness, killing him instantly as his lifeless body cleared our path. I could see her uncertainty still for even though I was aiding her, amidst my methods she could not fully accept, but submitted regardless.

Through the fort we ran, I, taking her by hand, we blend into the shadows of its path, together, through the castle, our two figures rush down its hallways hand in hand like we had done so long ago.

Memory fills my mind and I look over to see her face. But it was not her face. It was the princess of Letrasia and my mind returns to me.

“Come, we must get you away from here.”

And our figures continue into the night, slipping away to the sounds of battle now fading to echo, her expression oblivious to what I had just mistaken her for.

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Again and again, dark duels the light, their power, their magic thrashing against one another as they held locked in its struggle. Struck with seeping black, lord Belhephet continued to challenge the night’s dominion with a second, his darkness drinking in all light as it fell upon the duke of Debluar with encumbering force. Steady though, the gold radiance held a beacon through it all, light piercing its chocking cloud with beams of blinding flare. Back and forth, the two forces continue their dance, twisting and mixing into one another in ways unfathomable to their method of creation. As their battle became thick with the power of their element the black soon outweighed the gold and Duke Heltrem fell to the might of lord Belhephet. Broken, upon his own throne, Belhephet made his way toward the duke, the white of his beard gasping in tiered defeat as its sun dimmed before the eclipse.

“No, I, I cannot die. My land needs me.”

“Oh no you will die, old man. Now you see! How great this power truly is. Look at you now. How much stronger I am than you. You will pay for all you did to me. All of you. One by one, your nations will fall until those who ridiculed me will be silenced at last.”

“No, no, you cannot, my-my, country.”

“Now come, Heltrem, I want to see you die with my own eyes.”

“No!”

A sharp glance draws both men to the sight of prince Letrasia, his image arising with his fellow colleagues in tow.

“Father!!” Melcore calls, shocked to see his father in such a way, smothered under the black folds of Belhephet.

“M-Melcore, is that you?” breaths the silver beard, his eyes barely open amidst his oppression.

“Yes Father, it is I.”

“Ah, the prince of Letrasia, and the prince of Debluar. So good of you all to join this man in his final hour. Better that way, so that I may end your lines all together.”

“No, you will not touch the duke!” challenged Velchimar, “Let him go.”

The black rises off the old man to come before them.

“Ah-hahaha, bold words from one such as you. Foolish prince, do you think you can defeat me? A lord of Pelderam and leader to its army? As I recall, you had fled your country, just in its time of need,” sinister the dark gleamed a wicked smile, touching upon what he knew to be the prince’s weakness.

“I have learned much since then,” scowled the prince, anger for his country fuming within him not giving doubt purchase, “My blade is powerful now. It will not fall so easily.”

“Hah, much like your father’s had?”

“What of my father! How dare you speak of him,” passion, the prince’s anger heightened, raising his sword menacingly.

“Oh, you do not know? It was pathetic really, your father simply, gave up,” emotion, he played with the prince’s anger, giving body language he knew would bring out the worst in the prince, all while bringing his darkness out toward those before him, “He didn’t even raise a hand. He just let me kill him. And boy did I have my fun.”

“You-you killed my father?”

“Yes.”

“You, monster!!”

“And it seems I will have to kill you too. Hahahaha, how fitting; like father, like son. Try to do a little bit more than him yes?”

Anger, regret, aggression, vengeance, it all came rushing into the prince’s mind. Not anger, wrath to the darkness’s play. It now blinded him, His heart distraught with the loss of his father, with the loss of his sister, with the loss of his homeland. All around, this figure before him was the sole proprietor behind everything taken from him. Too many times has he ran away. Too many. Well not this time. No. No more. No, this time, he will fight.

Menacing to the power this realization carried but the prince did not let himself see it. His mind set, Velchimar unleashed his wrath, charging with his blade raised as the black did the same.

Blind indeed, the black met him already formed into a billowing haze. Creating a mass from its vail, Belhephet dared to choke the life out of the prince.

“Yes, come, let me watch you die.”

“My prince, no!”

A leap out of the way as a ray struck where moments he had stood. Then another, and another. Soon hordes of darkness came at the prince, his movements nimble as he made his way through the false night. But just barely.

A slash, reaching the source he swung at it wildly, piercing the black where his speed failed him. Another lunge then a counter, he missed his mark each time. A veil coming from behind cooling his leg with numbing death.

“Ahh!”

“My prince!!”

“Ah, there, how does it feel, you miserable offspring. I shall enjoy this, just as I enjoyed killing your father.”

Anger, it was too strong to be silenced. With a devil’s grace, the prince rose to his feet and lunged once more upon Belhephet.

But again, he was struck and again he fell. This time, having grown tired of the charade, Belhephet swirled forth three strikes, filling the Letrasian prince with overwhelming torrents of sensation.

“Yes, die, die for me! Ah!!”

A second blade cutting through the darkness, Melcore’s hand in the defense of the Letrasian prince.

“You!”

“For my own father, I will not let you win, dark one.”

“You dare against me? Oh, so unwise.”

The paladin gleams with the strength of his nation as he fought back the black of Belhephet, the other paladins and the green of Nethanial with him coming to aid in unison.

“For Debluar!” the brass cried, clashing as they too were struck with his mighty darkness.

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Moments to seize, Chandis rushes to the aid of her prince. Summoning forth her cleansing power, she mends his soul.

A beautiful blue light, it glows in symbols of divine healing before culminating in the center of his heart.

Coming down from such an intense invocation, the cleric breaths heavy to the undertaking, turning to seek out now signs of life in the Letrasian heir.

“My, my prince, are you alright?”

As if by voice not magic, he moved. Opening his eyes slowly to seeing the white and green of her robes.

“C-Chandis?”

“Oh thank God. Yes, my prince, yes, it is I!”

“Thank you,” he moves to pull himself up.

“My prince, you-“

Gently she tries to help but his own movement pushes past it.

“I-I’m fine,” regaining consciousness he gathers himself a look around. So quick as if nothing had happened, “Go, aid the duke while we hold off this attack.”

“Oh-okay,” on his feet it was now she who looked up to him, “But be careful, my prince.”

A nod and she got up to take after the throne.

With his conscious, returned his reason to fight, the prince driven to rejoin the paladins of Debluar and the one of Letrasia. Watching their combat, he sprinted off into an opening seen amidst the shadow.

“Fools. You all are no match for me!”

“Perhaps not as one, but together we will not let you succeed.”

“By Letrasia and in the name of King Brennerd himself, I will smite the!”

Nethanial makes his move but diverted as a sudden black fog rises to engulf him, twin beams lunging through it at Melcore. He, choosing to ride under them in fending off the source. Another paladin in tandem comes from the right, striking at Belhephet just as he creates a wall that ruptures upon contact. It sends the paladin backwards with incredible force. A blade of green, the prince returns now with twin strikes, his might followed by an assault from Melcore.

“Ah, the prince returns. What a stupid fool, did I not kill you enough the first time? You were so unimpressive compared to your puny father.”

Again, the black played to rekindle the prince’s anger but he gave no sign of it taking hold, “You will not take me again.”

“Pathetic. Your empty words will just be blotted out regardless. Miserable hypocrite. Ah!”

Too much, Belhephet jumps back as he shrouds himself in chocking black, rays exploding into darkness, hitting all four of his attackers as he rallied a second assault.

Stopped short however, golden light shown into the darkness now, revealing Belhephet and sending him faltering to regain balance.

“Ahhh!”

A glance to its origin, beside Chandis stands the Duke of Debluar, hands basked in radiance as he flooded the throne room once more in its glory.

“You will do no more harm here,” he declared, voice ringing with a renewed power as Belhephet now came to see himself outmatched.

“You think you all have defeated me? You will not be given such luxury.”

But his words came with the quaking sound of the Pelderam army, their forces arriving to their leader’s defense as they poured into the throne room.

“Lord Belhephet! The prisoner has escaped, and sir Equadriose has disappeared as well,” a messenger, he arrives at the helm of the troop, their white armor poised for attack as they take notice of the paladins of Debluar. Swords raised in anticipation the four warriors assume formation before Belhephet’s forces but divided. The black comes between them, holding the white army still as he looks to them with vindictive disdain.

For a moment the black menace wrestles in himself an apparent uncertainty until turning to face the duke.

“Damn you. We will fight again, Heltrem. Do not think this is the last you have seen of me. Mark my words, I will have my revenge,” a final glare before turning to his army, “Fall back, retreat in pursuit of the escapees!”

[Equadriose]

Chapter 9 : Fleeting Vassals

Another to fall, my power seeps into their body without being seen, cloaked within the already black of night. Through the pillars of Debluar we slip through the mountainous halls and buildings. Uncertainty exuberated from the figure at my side, her emerald visage still baffled by what was unfolding before her, and appalled by the actions that were making it so. Shame, her body grew stiff each time at the sight of their deaths, my mind filling with a sense of self-failure to such disapproval. I was surprised by its contrast with how eager I was to impress her. Why? No matter, the reality showed every attempt in this way only left me in shame. Her affection to their life, to my mind, trivial and inscrutable; unclear, again I could not read her true emotions. She would not look at me after silencing them. No, her cold discomfort gave melancholy, my mind unto itself hated once more as we passed over the body. Self-anger, I finally stopped the insanity and fixated on a path requiring less of the behavior. Ironically this allowed the sensation of having her holding awkwardly to my side magnify. Stiff, yet ever near. Tugging at my arm if our pace grew uneven. I would come back in earnest, if by instinct unable to deny the excitement of its reminder.

Again, as she slowly recovered from witnessing death, disgust played across her face and her body, cried. Why? This one had been inevitable, but I silenced my desire to answer, resuming my mind to a blank void. I am not meant to think, or feel… and yet. We continue as I take her further into the dark, her steps reluctant once again. But she would not let go of my hand.

“This way.”

I break the silence on occasion with words. A small reprieve that crests my jumbled thoughts from drowning in themselves. I wonder if it does the same for her.

Another, a single swirl of black engulfs his soul, dropping the body into the invisible shadow as we ran past him. I felt a reluctance to it now. My effort perhaps too slow this time as I could hear the voices of noticing shouts. We were to be pursued now as Pelderam began recovering from the element of surprise. Another hallway, the night passed between the massive pillars, guards coming in teams now and I so easy disposed of them with brushes of darkness. I gave no attention to their affiliation; they were simply obstacles, nothing more.

Accelerating our pace from discovery I take the princess through the mountain pass of Debluar’s first wall, lost to the overlooked trenches of its rocky boarder and the intricate walls of its pathways. Several more fall to my might as we slip away.

“Why are you doing this?” Again she asks the question I did not want to hear.
“Please no, I-I can’t,” but the question lingers, sending my thoughts convulsing I become light head and take a pause to gather myself, slowing our pace as I force myself to resist looking at her directly.

“You can’t? Equadriose, what do you mean?”

“Master requires your presence. I must please master and give you to him. Why are we here? Master requests your presence in Debluar. I must take you to him,” I come to realized my feet have stopped moving. I am facing the opposite direction.

“Wait! No!” I look head-on to see the princess of Letrasia, a face full of worry, hands touching my neck and cheek. What a sensation. It was she who made me look, “Equadriose no, you-you’re rescuing me, remember?”

“Yes, but I cannot go against master. Yet, I must find an alternate means, I-,” those eyes, those eyes! I-I look back, toward away from here.

“Equadriose, you saved me, why?”

I don’t want to see you die. I will not let you die. The words come to my mind sharp as day. A breadth amidst the whirling soup of my thoughts and a thousand reasons interject to the opposite of obedience. I refuse its voice upon my lips, “Quick, we must leave here,” is my reply, my tone strong and unfaltering to the turmoil underneath it.

“Please, Equadriose, I need to know why?”

“I-I can’t. Don’t ask me that question!” I demand with sudden rage, only then shrinking back from its somber realization. My eyes, I could feel my eyes were weeping to this turmoil, “I cannot speak it, speaking would only make me think it.”

“Equadriose, what’s wrong, you-.”

“I… master wishes your presence, he wants you, he-he wants your presence. He wants you… killed. No, master wants your presence; he said he wanted your presence. I will give it to him, I will please him.”

Speechless to my insanity, she looked at me fearful to my chaotic changes of thought.

“Equadriose, but you saved me though. You saved me because you don’t want to kill me, don’t you?” so easy, she could see right through me.

“I-I can’t. I can’t say that. I can’t displease master. I must obey him. I must!” mad, my mind could not take it, the pull between too much for me to bear and I motion to run as if to get away from it all.

But she held me still, putting her hands around my waist, “It’s okay Equadriose, you’re saving me, please don’t take me back,” the sounds of those in pursuit echo not far, our distance slipping as I could sense her turmoil but she took this moment to just be still, with me. The warmth of her body, her hair pressing into my chest. A pause, I allow myself a moment to enjoy her anguish, her emotion. She needed me.

“Far then, we have to go far from here. Master will be looking for me. He is always in my mind. You must find a place far from him, here. Somewhere where I won’t be able to think of him.”

“O-okay, I know a place. Follow me,” she walked me through it calmly, taking my hand and leading me down the mountain pass.

Again, we ran, this time our figures frantic to the echoes of those who chase us. I can sense master’s disapproval. My punishment will be more than anything he has ever made me endure. For I have gone against him. Oh, why, master. I have displeased you, why? Longing for his approval yet the touch of her hand retains my sanity, retains the why. I know the reason, holding on to its emerald garbed image.

Down the mountains we traverse as we neared the bordering forest below. Green, that of Letrasia. She was taking me back within its foliage; the land master had taken first. Her homeland. Scared of my own self, I simply follow, trailing after her like a mindless doll, a stupid puppet. Together, we ran through the forest, losing ourselves in its green long after we had left the sound of those who chased us. But still we compelled ourselves on, blindly fleeing from something we had already lost.

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A pause of chaotic stillness. Amidst the disappearance of Equadriose, Pelderam is driven back from insecurity, their strategy now sought to be revised as Debluar regains hold upon its nation. Quickly Pelderam forces shrink back to Pelderam itself and the conquered nation of Letrasia. In these moments, Debluar regains its lost land, driving out the last remnants of Pelderam as they are forced into retreat, strangely, with little effort from Debluar. Now with their nation reclaimed, Debluar is filled with dread. For the mountain nation lies crippled amidst the aftermath of invasion, their forces disabled and their leadership rendered immobile from salvaging what remained. All too quick and in such a delicate state, uncertainty fills Hephreness as all await Pelderam’s next move.

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“In the name of all of Debluar, our nation humbly thanks you prince Velchimar of Letrasia and those who have come to fight alongside you. Together we have managed to drive back Pelderam and with the defeat of their army, they have retreated from Debluar soil with much haste. Pockets of resistance have been dealt with and all of our main strongholds have been successfully reclaimed. At last, with aid from Letrasia, Debluar has taken back its nation! I must thank you, prince Velchimar. Without your support, our country would not have been able to fend off the Pelderam attack. Debluar is forever in your debt,” the sage voice of Duke Heltrem, seen entirely in a new light rested humbly before the prince, his own contrasting image of brooding youth, standing tall and honorable as the duke spoke on behalf of his entire people and the court that stood around them.

“I am glad Letrasia could be of service,” a smile in return to the dukes own, “Though it is ironic how it was in fact Letrasia who had come to Debluar seeking the exact same.”

A bow of his eyes, the Duke concluded with assurance, “I wish it were not so; word of Letrasia has reached Debluar’s ear as well. I have heard you were the second to be invaded by Pelderam’s army. Please, now that we are granted this formal meet, what news do you bring from our fellow nation?”

A somber glower, “Our land has suffered greatly, my duke. In an unexpected advance, Pelderam has quickly overwhelmed our forces. Our main defense stronghold, Fort Lefleyn was struck in a strategic surprise attack, crippling the Letrasian defense and opening a gap with which Pelderam used to invade our nation. They laid claim to the entire southern and western boarders before reaching Castle Letrasia itself where we had made our final stand,” anger now flares in the prince’s eyes. He tried weakly at concealing it, “We were not even given a chance to defend ourselves. In our final hour, we managed to hold the castle momentarily until Pelderam’s forces overwhelmed our position. To ensure our nation a future, my father, King Brennerd, ordered my, sister, and I to flee the castle and escape the inevitable fall of Letrasia with the intent to seek refuge here in Debluar,” a pause, the prince’s eyes swelled with an emotion, looking to the duke with a power brought about only from that of a nation’s honor, “And now, it is upon the arrival within Debluar that I will convey my father’s wish to ensure Letrasia’s future. Under the orders of King Brennerd,” a moment’s pause, the prince’s brow furrowed each time that name came to his lips, “We have come to Debluar to request an alliance and ask Debluar extend aid in the reclaiming of Letrasia.”

An echo, Velchimar’s words rang with thoughts of his father burning in his heart. His duty to his country honored in his voice as his message spoke at last what he had long carried with him. Based in the principle his father had spoken it was here that he felt truly the meaning in his words and it gave the prince a mix of realizations.

He could recall that moment as if it were yesterday, and to him, it felt as if it were. His father, the image of his wise face, cracked in composure to the chaos engulfing his country. The sound of war echoing within the stone walls of the throne room, caving in all around them as it vied to swallow what little time they had. And those final words, scarred into his mind as both hope and tragedy;

“It is in Letrasia’s time of need that there must remain an heir to its throne. You both, will be the future of our nation, you must live.”

His father, his country, so purely had he formed Velchimar’s two most prominent epitomes into a single phrase of passion. In the tragedy of his father’s death, of his parting, the prince vowed secretly to honor him and ensure his vision would become reality.

For you father, I will return Letrasia to its former glory.

And in this mindset were his words conveyed before the Duke of Debluar, his ability to now seek a means of aiding his country at last grasped amidst the countless times he had been forced to turn the other cheek. Prince Velchimar felt this moment rush through the brass court, a pause as the two nations came together to its answer.

“Then so be it. I shall grant Letrasia’s request. On this day, we of Debluar pledge a national alliance with that of Letrasia,” humility and a bow of his head, the Duke of Debluar spoke without hesitation, gracious for the chance to prove Debluar’s thanks to those who had risked the last of their nation to save them, “May this alliance prove beneficial and ensure the reclamation of Letrasia to come.”

“Thank you, Duke Heltrem,” to the actuality in reply, Velchimar felt compelled to bow graciously. He could not contain relief in hearing those words. Yes, yes there would be hope. Overwhelming, yet his body remained poised, the toll of duty now in absolute pacification to its fulfillment. A faint smile purses the prince’s lips, “Your words bring hope to the people of Letrasia. I can assure you that.”

“Thank you, my prince; indeed. Debluar is forever indebted to you. We have long since been neighboring nations, so fitting then we come together in this dire time. I believe our alliance will prove great in this impending war, and for as long as our nations stand side by side,” that final statement a grant of true assurance.

“I agree.”

“But now all heads turn to the matters at hand: the reconstruction of Debluar. We must focus upon strengthening our nation during this stalemate. The governmental control of our land must be reestablished and order must be brought back into the land. Our forces must be replenished while there is still the imminent threat of Pelderam’s return. Though Pelderam has retracted its army, their reason for such was vague and uncertain, too ambiguous to outright declare permanency. And with Belhephet revealed to be leading their army, we cannot anticipate what they will do next. Debluar must act quickly if we are to take advantage of the time we have been given. We must be prepared should Pelderam attempt a second attack.”

“True, Pelderam was too swift to fold. This is not like their recent tactic of swift invasion. Perhaps it is the calm before a storm?” the prince tried his hand, “How soon will Debluar be restored to its prior defenses?”

“It will take time but Debluar will eventually recover. Our army has subsided in number but the majority of our strongest fighters still remain as well as two thirds of our cavalry division. Also, given what we have discovered from the invasion, we may be able to modify the advantages our country holds simultaneously,” a glint of opportunity, the court of Debluar reacted positively to its mention, “Plus, realignment of our forces across national boundaries will take full advantage of our defenses and ensure a more prepared strategy now that we are familiar with Pelderam’s own tactics.”

“Good, I am glad to hear Debluar can recover.”

“Can and will,” a proud smile in optimism, “But if I may ask, young prince, what do you intend will be the next move for Letrasia?”

An anticipated question, the court looks toward the prince as he exhales, “We wait, in kind. Though Debluar is secure, that line could snap amidst any instability. And being that we are the last of Letrasia, we must remain away from enemy lines, for now….” A distracted focus, the prince looks off as if lingering upon something.

“Wise indeed, if anything were to happen to the remaining heirs of Letrasia, any chance for a recovery would become heavily postponed.”

“But now we are left with the mystery at hand. Pelderam, their motives still allude us. The sudden attack on Fotica, the overtaking of Letrasia, the invasion of Debluar? And now their uncanny retreat. It had been too casual. Even though we managed to fend them off, they could have surely destroyed us if they wanted to. What could Pelderam be planning?”

“True my prince, but I believe Belhephet alluded to their reason for this war.”

“He had?”

“Yes, during his last moments here, I believe it had been mentioned the retreat was in part due to the absence of one of their Four Cords.”

“The Four Cords?” again that name is brought to the prince’s ears, “Melcore had spoken of them. They are some form of generals to the Pelderam army, correct?”

“That is correct,” a discriminatory scowl now replaced a seemingly generous benevolence, “Twisted puppets that exude darkness. They are made with forbidden black magic. A penultimate disgrace to God’s creation,” utter contempt in the shake of his head, “It is said they are a form of absolute slaves for their creator, capable of doing anything he or she desires. In this case, Belhephet is using them as placeholder generals, allowing him to extend political influence beyond the limitations of a single leader to which I can only imply…”

“You don’t mean…” the prince drew aback to this implication.

“Indeed, four cords to four nations. With one being sent here I would be confident in assuming he has put one in Fotica and Letracia to serve as his extensions. Hatche no doubt, is also intended to be invaded which means Pelderam seeks to conquer all of Hephreness.”

A shudder across the entire castle, what the duke spoke of boded grave ill to all present.

“That… that cannot be.”

“But, there is hope for Pelderam’s undoing. I believe the cord brought here to Debluar was named Equadriose-”

“Yes, we had encountered the creature as well, near Fort Plaundis.”

A nod “One could assume then, if this Equadriose has gone missing and Pelderam disbanded to take after it in pursuit, then without the cord, Pelderam was unable to secure a permanent reign in Debluar.”

“So they retreated because, without a cord to serve in Belhephet’s stead as ruler, Pelderam could not control the nation, regardless of the opportunity in conquering it.”

“Exactly,” at last they had come full circle, “Which brings our second realization. If Pelderam is solely dependent on instating a cord as their means of securing a conquered nation then the same can be applied to all the others.”

“So they truly do mean to conquer all of Hephreness.”

“It appears so.”

“Then we must ensure Debluar does not succumb again should they reclaim this lost puppet. We must begin reconstruction at once and, as prince of Letrasia, I offer what remains of my nation, a hand in aid towards your efforts.”

“Thank you my prince, you are too generous.”

“It is of no consequence. But tell me Duke Heltrem…”

“Yes?”

“I must know, this, Belhephet. Who is he?” a tremble in voice, the prince dwelt upon the actions from that night, his face shadowed in a scowl that would not fade, “The one who claims to have killed my father.”

Seeing the pain behind those words the duke’s tone lowered in respect, “A very powerful man, I am afraid. Corrupted, twisted by that sin he calls an element of magic. And as he had spoken, leader to the Pelderam army. He wields the most powerful of dark magic and it has twisted him into something most chaotic. Now it would seem he is filled with nothing but violence and the lust for power. Before then, he was… my pupil.”

“Your pupil?”

A glower of shame but for once amidst the silver beard there was a somber familiarity, he nodded regrettably, “A gifted man, brilliant in how well he took on the magical arts. I must say, he was incredibly talented and I was able to teach him much of what he knows in magic. However, in growing his knowledge, he quickly turned to the allure of that, dark tome,” another shake of head, “All the times I fought him, tried to reason with him but I believe it was his fascination in its Hatche origins that intrigued him initially and in time he developed his own understanding of it, bringing the practice to Pelderam. When we… hmph…” a smile not seen amidst his beard, another nod to memory of a bygone era.

“And now he controls the Pelderam fleet?’

“Yes, along with his ‘cords’, four of them it seems. Foul creatures that should have never been.”

“The four cords, tell me more of them.”

“Marionettes, puppets, artificial beings forged from magic. He had dabbled in its practice for years. It seems he has finally succeeded in their creation,” a gasp of disdain, “Blasphemy, only God is meant to create life. They are his generals, leaders to his armies and like him, exude utter darkness.”

“And with them, he controls the army of Pelderam.”

“It would seem so.”

“So then, this is his war, and not the king of Pelderam’s,” brash the prince found further reason to fuel his burning heart, “One by one, he plans on taking over all the nations of Hephreness. All for himself.”

Brash or no, the duke turns to finding the plausibility cannot be denied, “It would appear so. And perhaps he could be manipulating the king of Pelderam as well,” eyes, they move.

“A man who defies God…”

“No good has come from his obscene practices, my prince. And now he leads a war, this war, in the name of Pelderam.”

“I will stop him then. Such madness, what he and Pelderam are doing to the nations of Hephreness I, cannot allow it to go any further.”

“Bold, my prince,” smiled the duke cautiously but swiftly, “And how do you plan to take such action?”

“Patience,” the prince would not demure, “As I had said earlier, I will wait until Debluar fully regains its position first. From there, through our alliance’s combined strength, I will venture to reclaim Letrasia and discern further how to liberate the remaining nations.”

“A formidable plan,” pride, the prince’s confidence seems to have sold the Duke’s approval, “Debluar will be with you the entire way then, my prince.”

“Thank you, Duke Heltrem,” another smile, “But one more thing, my duke. Have you heard any news of my sister?”

A somber shift in conversation, “I am sorry, my prince, but unfortunately, we have been unable to find her. All of Debluar has been flushed of Pelderam, her presence has yet to be reported but I will inform you should any word come to my ear.”

A childish nod, the prince looks cold as if his soul lost to him. And in a sense, it was. His sister was gone. Now that the dust had settled, he found himself fixating on the loss of her, her whereabouts. Aside Chandis and Nethanial, Cassandra was his only family left and the very thought of losing every one of his blood came quickly like a torrent. A strong effort, he looked back to the Duke with eyes wet but unbreakable.

“Thank you, duke,” his voice sounded dry, “In the meantime, we will remain within Debluar and help aid in its recovery. Though little is known of Pelderam’s current position, their intentions bode caution. I am sure you are right in them attempting a second attack.”

“Thank you, prince Letrasia, your efforts are most graciously accepted. Indeed, Debluar will aid in this fight against Pelderam, wherever it may lead us.”

“Then mark this day as a turning point in this war. We will take back our nations and regain what justice was once in this land. In the name of Letrasia, I promise you this.”

[Equadriose]

Sorry for the late posting but here are the next two chapters. Hope you all like

Chapter 10 : Relearning

“Master loves me!” spat Melotica.

“No he does not,” replied Lucacia humorously, “You are ugly, I am beautiful. Master always loves me. You are just what he has left if I am unavailable.”

“No you bitch, you are worthless, weak. I am the one master should love,” foul words blind to a mind that could not understand them.

“Should but doesn’t. Hmm, you will never get his love.”

“Oh, but I will. Master will decide, decide like he always does. He will pick me. He loves me just as much as I love him.”

“Oh, so you know?”

“Know what.”

“That for tonight he has made a game.”

“A game? I am not interested in your tricks, Lucacia.”

“Very well, then don’t bother. I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested anyway,” a chide of loss, she looked off but remained, letting the silence hang.

“Tell me.”

A smile, “Master said that whoever came to his bedroom the soonest this night would be his to love. But like you said, you are not interested so I guess you won’t be the one he loves. He’ll probably be greeted by Geldoblame then. That one pays attention to these things you know,” vindictive, Lucacia looked to Melotica in disappointment.

Still angry but not made for such trickery, Melotica’s attempt to hide her interest was so obvious, “Geldoblame shouldn’t even bother. Master wouldn’t give him the light of day.”

“If you say so,” a shrug and off she went, never looking back to Melotica’s nervous excitement.

She waited for Lucacia to leave before running off to master’s bedroom. This would be the fifth time she has fallen for this trick.

But not this time.

As Melotica entered the room, I struck Lucacia at the spine just before she could seal the door.

“Ah!” she yelped before falling to the floor broken to my affliction as I angled myself in such a way so as to give her view of who disabled her.

“You! Equadriose, what are you doing!?”

“I’m having fun,” I smile, pleased with myself to how effective my paralysis has been.

“How dare you, master will always love me. He calls me beautiful, gorgeous-.”

“And yet look at you now. Your body all awkward on the floor. He could never love that.”

“No, master loves me regardless, he always does-.”

“Lucacia!” a look forward reveals Master’s black image, eyes burning at the sight of her sprawled on the floor like that, “What is this. Look at you.”

“Master.”

“Unfitting how you spoil your image so. What is wrong with you. Get out of my sight, you disgusting creature.”

“Master, no, wait, please. But I can’t-.”

“Oh, master,” Melotica now appeared within the doorway, naked already as she caught his eye.

“Melotica, ah, you, you are so, beautiful,” unable to say anything else, his robes followed Melotica into his bedroom, its door slamming behind as their moans shortly followed.

“How could you Equadriose! How could you!” she screamed at me, her eyes filled with rage now, rage and sorrow.

“You don’t deserve master,” I reply coldly, “He uses you every night.”

“But I am a beautiful masterpiece. Master loves me, he says I’m gorgeous!”

“Is that really worth it?”

Before she could rebuttal, I get up and depart, leaving her broken image on the floor to listen as Melotica cries out from within the room. She begins to weep, a weep turned to a roar. Rage from being made to just lie there. Humiliated in how she was trapped in her own body. Eventually though her rage unlocked a tone I couldn’t help but turn to. A cry. I could hear within her rant, a revelation exposed to perceived privacy. Now forced to sit with herself, she moaned a relenting sorrow, tears toward realizing such action was all she had made herself good for.

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The cool dew of a thousand leaves filled the air with crisp wetness, its mist trailing our path as the princess never ceased in her travel, taking me deeper and deeper until we entered an open clearing of rolling foliage. A broad surface of tall plants and low branches, slanted to a falling hill, its base deep into the forest below and open to the thicker above. Outlining trees parted to the sky, letting in through the branches to reveal light of day.

“We are alone now. They will not find us here.”

“It’s just a little farther, we’re almost there-ah!”

It was here she fell, her figure slipping from something underneath the grass but my hand kept her steady, catching her fall in mid decent. There we stood, before I raised her back to her feet, my pull bringing her closer than I had anticipated, stopping our movement in still silence. In that moment was my mind calmed, my eyes given a chance to look upon her as never before. Free, to study her, to observe her. And she to me. Embarrassed, wonderful, yet calm, very calm. Her emotions filled my mind with that puzzling banter I could never decipher. Her feelings seeming to be a reflection of my own.

“Thank you, Equadriose,” she spoke, words sounding like a rhyme of beauty trailing a tune she has long played for me, “But I still want to know. Why did you save me?”

Those words, in gazing within her eyes, my mind returned to me and I stepped away.

“I-I can’t,” I repeat more of the same, ripping my eyes away from her.

“Please tell me. I need to hear you say it.”

“No, I cannot tell you that. I have no other thoughts. They are not meant to be thought.”

“Yes they are Equadriose, I’ve seen it before. You are allowed to think for yourself.”

“No, master did not make me to do such. I was created to manipulate that of others.”

“But please, Equadriose, I see it in your eyes, you know what you think, please tell me.”

“No, I-I can’t. I, can’t,” a look into those beautiful eyes, full of life, of promise and I am baffled by her aura, filling me with such strange concepts I’ve known only by another. She stood so calmly, so beautifully, but I could not tell her. I could never tell her.

“Why? What does that mean, Equadriose, you’re free here. You don’t have to refuse yourself your words anymore.”

I brave a look into those eyes again, this time pleading. Her emotions were eager, desiring and knowing already. I knew what she was doing. She wanted to hear me say it, to speak freely.

“I can’t, it goes against master. He will be displeased with me. I have to please him. I must do everything he says. I have to return you to him, you, he desires your presence. He desires, you,” I breath, for in that moment, here and now, she appeared more prominent than ever. Her emerald image so intoxicating to my turmoil. Her eyes, polarizing, uncertain, yet patient. She was so very patient with me, “You-,” I repeat in almost a whisper of disbelief, mystified by how enthralled I have become with this human, “Why you?”

A quizzical look in return.

“You’re eyes, they flicker with that life, that illumination that leaves me enthralled.”

A blush, she bats her eyes.

“Your image, your aura, I can’t read it like I do any other. You’re different, different in the way that I know.”

“And what way is that?”

“I, don’t know,” I reply, now seeing the contradiction in myself, “I-I, can’t explain it yet I sense it when I’m around you. When I’m around-,” my heart trails to that sentence, her name at my lips but I could not speak it. Not to her.

“What is it, Equadriose, tell me, let me help you,” she spoke, coming forward with soothing eyes.

“I can’t describe it, yet it feels so obvious. You, why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what? Equadriose, I don’t understand.”

“The way you do. Ever since I had laid eyes upon you. You don’t look at me like the others. You don’t cower in fear or submit to obedience. You act as if my being does not affect you.”

“Because I don’t see what others see,” she replies, “I see you, Equadriose. How you are. Who you are. You are something different to me, in a way, I-I don’t think I’m ready to admit.”

“But what is there to see? I’m nothing. Merely a vassal for my master.”

“No-no don’t say that. You’re more than that, you are a person. I see it, how fragile your emotions are. You hold something, a history to you that defines who you are.”

“A, history?”

“Yes, your past, your perspective, your experience? Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Tell me about it. I want to know you, Equadriose. I want to know who you are.”

A turn of face I look to find her standing near me, her body so close to mine, yet it drove me away. Once more that impulse came, that instinct that comes to mind when one gets too close.

“Please, I-I can’t be near you,” I say to her, ripping myself from her image.

“W-why?” her brow furrows, eyes showing pain to my ways, ways she did not understand, “What is wrong with me? Why can’t I be next to you? All this time, you’ve been fighting me being next to you, why?”

“Because, I-I can’t,” I trail off, knowing what it is yet unable to say it, unable because I don’t know how.

“You can’t, that is your answer, that is always your answer, Equadriose, well then that’s fine! You won’t have to worry about me being so close to you!” and she turned around, her body language obviously showing signs of hurt, but still, I could not reply. Yet something else came to mind.

“I-I can’t because I don’t want to hurt you, or force you. Like we had to.”

I say the words and she turns around, her eyes looking to me with a vulnerability I could, could understand. Her mind understanding, how, how could she understand!? And yet, I was thankful she did.

“Equadriose, you’re not going to hurt me. Don’t be afraid of yourself. I’m not. Let me help you, I want to help you, Equadriose. I want to learn who you are. What you are. Please, just let me help.”

A sincere plea, and with it, I felt her touch upon my arm, her body again drawing close, warm. Only this time I did not shrug it off. I turn to look her in the eyes, her dark eyes, so full of life, so full of promise, and I could feel the same.

I reached around and held her in my arms, frozen in such an embrace, I allowed myself to indulge in her heat returned to me, her figure relaxing in my grip. Calm, she always knew what to feel, what to say.

“I have always wanted to tell you, you are so very beautiful, princess of Letrasia. I wish to learn about you.”

A smile, she knew exactly what I had said, “Then I shall tell you all there is to know.”

A smile in return, my mouth parted to that curve and it was there in the sanctity of the forest that we settled within its emerald luster, vacant of the world and only we remained.

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“You retreated?”

“Well, y-yes, your majesty. I had to. There was no way we could have seized control of Debluar securely without a-.”

“So you failed.”

“No, no, my lord, I had not succeeded in seizing Debluar but I have brought you the nation of Letrasia and I am in the midst of almost securing Fotica and the other natio-.”

“I am not interested in only one nation. My vision demands the control of all the nations of Hephreness, not just false assurances or empty words. Why were you unable to control Debluar!?”

“Because I have no one to put as its overseer. My marionette, Equadriose, had disappeared at the most critical point-.”

“Then why didn’t you put one of your other ‘toys’ in his stead?”

“W-well because I couldn’t. Lucacia is too weak to place under Debluar and Geldoblame is needed to control the nation of Hatche. Melotica is under rule of Letrasia so-.”

“I am not interested in your pathetic excuses, Belhephet! You have failed me for the last time. Secure me the other nations or I will remove you as my army’s tactician.”

“Yes, your majesty, I will not falter again.”

A silent sneer of dismissal, the black robes cower as they shrink away from the base of the silver throne, he who sits atop glaring with cold contempt. The black departs as if bruised to such shameful discipline but quickly the face changes from fear to indifference as he made it to the towering twin doors of the hall. Guards in tow, he spoke calmly to them as if nothing had happened and carried on with no thought toward his position.

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“My mother died when we were really young. My brother is the only one who remembers her face.”

“I don’t know what parents are. Only Master…”

“I took to the Academy early, my talent with magic was very special to me. I graduated at the top of my class.”

“We learned to manipulate our powers like each other. I remember countless nights reading mindlessly, studying to prove my worth to Master.”

“I remember my fifteenth birthday. My Father held a grand celebration. The cooks made the finest banquet I have ever tasted.”

“Banquet? What is that?”

“Food, don’t you eat?”

“We are hollow embodiments, magic. We don’t have need for such human objects.”

“You are very depressing sometimes.”

“Hmm?”

“I was also greatly involved with the church. They raised us when Father was away. I met Chandis there.”

“The cleric.”

“Yes, she is so very gentle and welcoming.”

“I do not know what those, feelings are.”

“Do you? Here, lying here with me, tell me you don’t feel something?”

“I, I cannot describe it because I do not know what it is. Is that feeling?”

“Yes, hmm… hmmmhmmhmm.”

“Is this amusing?”

“Your arms squeezed tighter when I told you that.”

“I-I, I have never known feeling before. Tell me more of you.”

“I tried to learn weapons like my brother. I failed at it miserably.”

“You are more suited for magic, your mind is apt. That does not surprise me.”

“But my Father always tried to help me. I remember us in the courtyard, it was a particularly hot day that evening and I was sweating vigorously, swinging that sword all clumsy like. My Father came and helped me. He held my arms, getting close to me even though I did not smell appeasing. And he just showed me how to swing a sword…”

“Cassandra… You are crying.”

“I’m just remembering my father.”

“And how you miss him. He impacted you deeply, a very major part in your life I see. Your body language says it all.”

“Yes, yes, I miss him very much.”

“Now look who is depressing.”

“Heh, heh.”

“This is funny to you as well?”

“It’s just, you understand me so well. I love that about you.”

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Filthy king. Worthless imbecile, to dare look down upon, me, with contempt? I am the one who struggles to ensure the success of your army and you dare challenge, my, ability? Such a pompous villain. I will enjoy his death the most after I have no further use for his army, his kingdom, and his figurehead. But, it is too soon. Pelderam’s support is too necessary in this stage of my plan.

And it is this sole factor that drives Belhephet madder than any other. Patience, he must appease his most vile enemy. He must please him and ensure he remains so. Gathering himself he arrives to the Cathedral with white hot rage, hidden chaotically beneath a fragile composure. Silent, his steps echo through the tall pillars of the gothic architecture; arriving to his band of strategists as their hushed tones meet him with trembling apprehension.

Only one resides unique to the others. A woman, uncanny and dead in flesh, her image is striking, slender, beautiful with eyes matching the hue of her skin. Eerie, it is obvious she is not real. But it is this image that, for so long, has fantasized him, appeasing his anger only slightly, yet angering him in the same to the perfection her image conveyed.

“Ah, my marionette, my beautiful creature, such amazing creation, you are a work of art.”

“Thank you master,” she replies without a glimpse of emotion to crack such bone structure. She has learned well.

“What has become of the nation of Fotica?”

“I have secured its outer boarders and main strongholds, does that please you Master?” eager, a smile slipped her face, screaming for approval.

“That’s it? You were told to seize the nation, not just its boarders! Why have you not secured all of Fotica!”

“I-I need-, Master!” she was crumbling.

“What then!” his anger snapped to her image, “What is preventing you from seizing the remainder of the nation?”

“All that remains is the main wall that surrounds the castle. I need your consent to take an additional battalion in its overtaking.”

“An additional battalion? Has all that beauty made you stupid?” ridicule, the black robes had no patience for this.

“N-no master, I-.”

“I have given you majority of the fleet, all you must do is seize the main wall. Have you strategized to find its weakness?”

“N-no master.”

“Well then do it! Finish seizing the remainder of Fotica! I need it secured!”

“Y-yes master.”

“And inform me when you have taken the castle.”

“Yes master,” away with her, yet she still remained, her image wincing with anticipated pain.

“What, Lucacia?” he snaps at the sight of her lingering, but words turn chill as he tries to retain his character, an inflection calmer yet on the brink of hell’s wrath. Rather somber he had berated her so.

“Equadriose, I have heard he has gone missing? Perhaps I could locate him for you Master, if it pleases you.”

“No, you are needed in Fotica, Lucacia. Seize its throne and ensure the nation is under Pelderam control. Do not concern your gorgeous creation with anything else. I do not want you to tarnish your beauty with more than you can handle.”

Silent, her eyes cast down, “Yes master,” and she departs, the black of her robes slipping away as she rejoins her own band of guards.

A feeling of satisfaction crossed Belhephet. Though she tried to conceal it, she could not conceal it well. The tie between those two had always been odd. A perfect reassurance. Perhaps he could exploit it and his glorious Equadriose would come running back into his sight. Yes, yes….

“Ah, now that our strategy has been revised, we can wait patiently for the next nation to fall. Perhaps one will prove beneficial in snaring another. With Letrasia seized and Debluar weakened, all that remains are the other two nations. And Fotica is soon to fall.”

“But, my lord, what of your lost marionette?” a voice from the gathered robes.

“I am sure the events in Fotica will bore fruit for us. More than we could expect. With Lucacia in blatant view, it shouldn’t be long before Equadriose arrives in kind.”

“And the Letrasian princess? She had managed to escape during the incident in Debluar.”

“Ah,” a sneer, “She must be captured. No such chances for Letrasia’s recovery can remain… Dagger!”

A shadow, amidst shadows, it appeared without entrance and with the presence of having been there the entire time. A man, or is it a creation, its armor of leathered black and finely trimmed steel bode a lithe and agile foreboding. Danger, its aura surrounded the man with a wake of violence.

“Yes?”

“I have a task for you,” smiled Belhephet, appreciating the menace before him, “Seek out the princess of Letrasia. Though I know not where she had escaped to, I am sure someone of, your, talents will be able to locate her whereabouts.”

“Why yes, I am experienced in such findings.”

“Good. Find her and kill her, I grow tiered of her nuisance. Though she is insignificant, I cannot afford to have her alive. Do you understand?”

“Quite clear.”

“Good, and when you find her, ensure she will never be found by anyone else.”

“Yes, my lord, your will be done,” a wicked sneer, and cast in shadow the figure slinks back into darkness, never to be seen again.

“All is set. With the fall of Fotica, and the impending seize of Hatche, all I will have to do is retake Debluar, and then I shall have this entire continent at its knees. And then, I, Belhephet, will be the one they revere.”

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“My body is beautiful.”

“More beautiful than mine?”

“Yes, I have a woman’s body. The symbol of lust, of envy.”

“You are mistaken; it is a man’s body that is envied. Strength, power, I am carved with such perfection it is irresistible.”

“You are not the eye of beauty, these curves, legs, so slender and supple. Long and flowing as they broaden into the hips, curving like the moon’s crescent into a touchable waist. And breasts, round in perfection, coupled with shoulders, and the soft face resting upon the tall neck, flowing, with cheeks soft and round yet angular, the nose, the eyes. Yes, that is what lust is, the fantasy, my body,” she said it without knowing the emotion, hugging herself, touching herself in ecstasy copied from what Master does to her, “This is what all desire.”

“No! It is the man! Tall, definition, strong legs, sculpted to indent every muscle, the arms perfect in their width, lined to match the girth of the shoulders. Broad chest and an abdomen purely like no other, each indent lining down the body to the waist, lines at its ends in a v shape that makes it that much more enticing. Desirable, and the neck, there resides the bust of the head, a jawline, strong and angular and indented cheeks, lips supple, chin protruding in pride, eyes alluring to what the body exudes. Lust, every action, every flex, and not I forget our most desired aspect,” I smile sickly to her only from the effect such talk has put upon me, my eyes looking down to what now stood erect between my legs. Her own undeniable in their stare upon my form.

“Oh, no it is the female body, more vivacious, more agile, flexible, we can perform any action,” she came closer, intoxicating me, strangling me in a throbbing that compelled me.

“But the man has force, the strength, the speed. We have dominance, stamina. The body of a man provides the greatest attributes in love,” I come to her, watching her as she comes to me, our words manipulating our minds into wanting the other. With mouths yearning, we approach one another, impulse driving our thoughtlessness in lust.

But as I grew near, she became stiff to my desire, hands touching my chest, causing me to inhale with ecstasy, only then, to be shoved away forcefully as she drew back.

“No… no… no, not you. I can’t,” she breathed, her gorgeous chest heaving as she panted. I stared transfixed, in our argument truly she was right but I would not let her know.

“W-what?” I stood offended, my yearning for her needing to be expelled from my body, unwilling to remain and not be put to use, “Lucacia?”

“We can’t. I don’t want to. I am better than that. You, filthy puppet, trying to trick me into loving you.”

“So you admit. The man’s body is more worthy to love,” I take advantage of the opportunity to manipulate her.

“I can’t, you wretched puppet, you think you can manipulate me so? You are nothing! I am the one who manipulates,” quickly, her face changes masks as she chatters nervous laughter, “And I can tell by the way your body reacted, the way you looked at me,” a wicked smile, “And look at me still. You want me. You’re craving my touch,” again she laughs as she saw easily into my mind. My disguises are nothing to her.

“You lie, you can’t describe what I am thinking.”

“Can’t I? The way you moved to me so quickly as I goaded you on? Even as I pushed you away, my touch almost made you climax right then and there,” embarrassing to hear it spoken, and she laughed upon it, “You are pathetic to be drawn so easily. I don’t love when it is so easy like this. Hahaha.”

“Shut up!”

“Equadriose, what’s wrong? Don’t you want this, these legs and what resides between them? These breasts,” she cups them in her hands, “Ah you can’t take your eyes off of them. How could Master love such an animal. Stupid, stupid puppet, have you no mind at all? Impulse is all you are for. So, easy, to, manipulate! Hahaha!!”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, Equadriose, come to me. Touch me,” she touched at my shoulder, “Feel me,” caressing my chest, “Use me like you want to, my waist, my thighs,” but now she changed masks again and I could tell she realized what she was doing. To her it was no longer a game, now her touch grew intimate, not in love, but in longing. Yes, she yearned as well, but not for what I had from her, “Love me Equadriose. Love me like you should have when Master had hated me for those long weeks. When you had come into my room as I lied there in disgrace. Love me like you should have. Please? Hold me?”

But now it was my turn to push away, her begging, her pleading, I lost my appetite of her as I forced her off of me.

“No, stop it!!” I yelled at her, realizing just as she that I could not bring myself to do it, “We can’t, Lucacia. I can never love you.”

“Why Equadriose, I thought you wanted me! Why won’t you love me!” she cried.

“Because I-, because you are pathetic,” I said, not revealing my true reason, “How could I love something so, easy to take,” a sneer of my own, I repeat her words back at her. What she had cut into my heart, looking to her as she mirrored the shame I had not moments ago thought, or is it felt?

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“How do you know you have no feeling?”

“Because when it comes to mind, it is a thought, it is not like the response I see you humans perform involuntarily.”

“What about pain, if I were to pinch you?”

“That is a wound, an affliction to my body. It passes. I have no reaction to that.”

“But the short-lived burn from the pinch?” she reaches out two fingers to my side, her sudden move breaking character, or maybe it was her intention? I can never read her clearly.

A flash of intense force squeezes my flesh for but a moment.

“Tell me you did not feel that.”

Intent, I could see she thought highly of the effect, “It happened but I did not feel anything.”

“That burn? That flash of pain? I saw it in your eyes, your body moved to my touch,” pleading now, lost of her confidence in proving her point. I did not understand.

“I-that is different.”

A smile, “No, you felt the pinch, you know what it is.”

“That is not emotion.”

Trumped, she changed face, “What of aggression?”

“Aggression? What is that?”

“An emotion; you’ve felt it before.”

“I have not, I do not feel emotion.”

“When you saved me, your mind, you were going against your master,” hesitation, her voice knew that name held power.

Immediately I grew dark, recalling my blasphemous act and how my mind raced with logic, trying to fathom proper reasoning in my defiance, “That is not emotion,” I spoke flatly, “That is disobedience. Anticipation foreshadowing what consequences will occur.”

“And what did that feel like?”

“Feel? That is not emotion, it is thought.”

“No, Equadriose, you know what I am talking about. Your voice just now. It dropped when I mentioned that name, how your eyes cannot face me? That is fear, sorrow, failure.”

“Failure? Failure is an emotion?”

“Yes,” her eyes unlocked with hope to my reaction, “Disappointment. In yourself, in the eyes of another.”

“No,” cast aside, “That is a thought, an inference brought from studying another’s body language.”

Exasperated, she grew closer. She would not give in, her emerald robes reflecting the beauty in her eyes, in her face, smooth, perfect, master says she is always perfect. A flash of memory, I broke from it immediately, I would not let her know my mind began to think a different mentality.

“Well, what of me?” her voice alluded sheepishly to the literal, eyes looking off, drawing me into her game, though I could see right through it.

“You?”

“The way you could not explain yourself to me. The way you could not describe why you could not speak.”

“That,” the memory returns sharply, her game won, trapping me to her words.

“You couldn’t speak of it because you have always thought you do not know how to describe how you feel. You do not know how. But you do know what it feels like.”

A memory, Lucacia, her face bore through my mind again, her silhouette so beautiful in the doorway, my disgusting image hiding in the dark. But she found me, so close to my side. I wanted to love her that day; but not love, it was something else, something, I could not put words to.

“Yes, you know. You feel.”

“That,” I looked to her, seeking reassurance in her comforting eyes, “that is emotion?”

“Yes, Equadriose,” she drew closer.

“But, I have no emotion, I was made, not real, a creation, how can I-?” Strange, I could not describe it, my mind reverting back to denial but it was inevitable, the lock broken, I found a difference in me, one that she sensed as well.

A hand to my chest, “Because you are made, created. All life has feeling, and with it, emotion.”

Closer still, I turn to her, my mind unlocking. My, my heart, a figure of speech, opens to her words. It was in that moment that I broke from reading my own self to read her.

She appeared very close, her heart, I felt beating heavy within her chest. Her body revealing what she clearly alluded to hide.

“How do you distinguish thought from emotion?”

“You don’t think, you know. It comes over you. You feel it, intuitively. It is not something just mental.”

Close, I smile to her, “Then what am I feeling now?”

“I cannot tell,” she smiled in return, but I could clearly see she knew, “Only you can feel what it is you feel.”

And in her final words did she reach to me in my arms. Closing in, she kisses me; her lips tender yet shy, yet yearning. In a flash, I meet her with everything I sensed she desired. Intimate, yet unexpected. She breaks from me to an unknown factor.

“You, kissed me,” though we parted lips, I could still taste her saliva.

A hand to her own, as if she could not believe it, “I, I’m sorry.”

“No, do not. I-I liked it,” I reply, moving closer to her, feeling what she easily displayed, what she wanted me to say. I could read her know, or so I thought. I see fear? Fear, of what?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she stepped back, and for once I could tell she did not want me near.

“Don’t be afraid, your actions have been suppressed for too long. I know that is what you have wanted to do,” I turn her to look upon me, her eyes nervous ashamed for what she had done, “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Equadriose…”

“I want to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“For showing me I am more than just an empty puppet. Thank you for teaching me to feel.”

And without another word, I drew her in closer and kissed her again, pacifying her uncertainty as she embraced my actions. Lowering her walls, she allowed herself to kiss me. Passionately, I held her in a euphoria I could not yet describe but could acknowledge was there. My mind free, I kissed her more vigorously, though even in her words, I could not explain what it was I wanted to describe…

[Equadriose]

Chapter 11 : Disrupting What is Gained

The brass of Debluar stands proud amidst open pillars, the court of Duke Heltrem summoning forth the emerald of Letrasia as once more their appearance breaks the metallic hues of Debluar with a flash of color.

“Ah, prince Velchimar, I am glad you could attend this audience.”

“It is my pleasure Lord Heltrem, once again I am honored for your hospitality in allowing us to stay while we help the people of Debluar recover. With that said, how goes the rest of Debluar’s reconstruction? How is your nation at large? I and my group have managed to mend parts of the southern cliffs, but I would like to know the overall standing of your position?”

“It is a steady recovery, my prince. And our people greatly appreciate your service as well. Fort Plaundis has been reconstructed with a stronger battalion and the healers have achieved much success in tending to the main army. Our soldiers though few are slowly regaining. Already the nation has begun to show its former strength as the wall of Fort Demcous is nearing reestablished. Soon Debluar will be restored to its former glory completely.”

“I am pleased to hear that. But I am assuming that is not what you wanted to talk about,” a squinting of eyes the prince realized the futility in summation.

“No? And what gave it away?” a harmless jest, the white flowing beard parted to a smile.

“There are none other than you and I to this ‘audience.’”

“Yes, my prince, I wish to speak to you more in regards to the alliance. Now that our nations have come together during this trying time, how do you wish to use our service?”

A moment to pause, the prince held his words in thought before speaking, “In the current state of my nation I am unable to use the army of Letrasia. In its stead I was hoping to use two battalions of the Debluar army to take back my homeland.”

“Yes, wise and fair. But then there is the looming threat of Pelderam to Debluar’s own boarders. As you can see, though we are on the rise, our strength is not great enough to handle our midst, let alone take forth a feat as reclaiming Letrasia.”

A sudden change in the face of the prince, “What are you saying my Duke?”

“Well, as the leader to my own nation I must look towards its safety first and foremost. I have no problem lending the army of Debluar to Letrasia however that does not seem to be a promising future, and in itself, I would debate the actions of Letrasia’s reclamation if using Debluar support.”

“But the alliance we had discussed agreed upon equal compensation to Letrasia’s own actions for Debluar,” a shudder, though calm, the prince’s aggression could be heard in those final words. Disbelief at what was being told to him.

“True, however you had come to Debluar in need of our assistance originally. The aid brought to our nation was unintentional.”

“Unintentional?” A raise of brow.

“Had you come with a brigade of the Letrasian fleet your actions would have been more visible to their meaning however, you had claimed yourself, you were sent to seek aid. If that is the case then aid from Debluar will be under Debluar name, not Letrasia.”

Shock, “You mean to take Letrasia in Debluar’s name? But that would forfeit our nation’s right to your own, completely eliminating any Letrasian recovery under our own flag.”

“I understand that however if our nation is to extend such a major aid to Letrasia at this time then it is only fair we be known for the undertaking.”

Again, a turn of face, the emerald prince paused in his words, his mind unable to fathom what was spoken. More so to what he knew this would bring. Under its implication, he knew what must be done. Such a daunting task unfathomable to the few at his disposal.

“I see, so then the speech of weeks past, did it mean nothing to you?”

“An appeasement of war. It is common to bring forth pride and thoughts of hope for the country. The true words of national affairs are spoken in manner. Do not take this as completely false. I am willing to offer my nation’s aid.”

“But not in the way you promised,” naïve, though the words came, Velchimar knew they had not been secured. He came to realize this as a young mistake to national affairs. A lesson learned though at a painful price. Letrasia was on its own.

“I had never promised all this entirely, my prince. I had stated Debluar would extend aid. Beyond that, the details are to now be discussed.”

Once again, the prince opens his mouth however the doors of the castle blare open, a second of green racing forth with news to bare.

“Who is this that intrudes on our discussion?”

“I am sorry my Duke but I needed to convey a message to the prince,” Nethanial extends his focus, “My prince, news has come to Debluar. Fotica is being overrun. Pelderam’s forces move upon its palace walls, they will soon have the nation.”

The news echoes, atmosphere of the hall now turning to tension, “Grave indeed, so Pelderam has changed its focus to Fotica.”

“Indeed,” the duke motions in his throne, “If this is to occur then Pelderam will surely succeed, Fotica was the original nation to be attacked. Their forces most likely have lost their ability to retain the nation’s strongholds.”

“Then we will aid them,” a sudden outburst from the prince, he steals the opportunity.

“My prince?”

“Deem it the perfect opportunity. Pelderam has completely moved from Debluar, they will not expect a brigade from Debluar to come to Fotica’s aid. We will march upon it and capture their surprise.”

Taken, the Duke peers through his white beard with thought, “Brave, prince Letrasia, I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do; this is an opportunity we can use to our advantage.”

“I shall be at your side, my prince,” Nethanial’s words rang with the pride of a Letrasian paladin.

“Thank you, Nethanial, we shall begin preparation, let us alert the others.”

“Ay, I bid you well, noble prince of Letrasia, and please accept then a small aid of Debluar; I will give you a brigade of our paladins, those who had fought alongside you. My son, Melcore has given me word he would like to extend aid to you in your fight if he can. I will let him know now is the time.”

A turn back to the duke though seen through new eyes, the prince smiled graciously but refused to fully trust his intentions, “Thank you, Duke Heltrem. Your aid is greatly appreciated.”

“My sincerest regards. May you be blessed by the heavens, and given swift speed.”

“Very well, Nethanial, let us go,” a turn to the throne, “Thank you for your audience my duke. May we meet again,” false endearment, but formality left them with smiles. The prince turns to walk the length of the hall with the Letrasian paladin at his side.

“A sudden preposition my prince, are you sure this is the right path? We are still so few in number.”

“We had managed to reclaim Debluar, we can surely use the aid of surprise to our advantage in taking back Fotica. Besides, I am beginning to think the duke has had a change in heart.”

“A change in heart?”

“Yes,” the prince speaks unabashed, “It now seems that he is reluctant in offering arms to support us. And now he has brought it to my attention that if we are to take back Letrasia using Debluar support, it will solely be a Debluar victory. Not Letrasia.”

Shocked, the green paladin faltered to sincere eyes from his prince, “A change in heart indeed. My prince, if that were to happen then there would be no return of a Letrasian nation.”

“Exactly. So by lending aid to Fotica then perhaps they being in their dire state, may give us the proper support we need,” the prince’s true intentions revealed.

“But what if they do the same as Debluar?”

A somber reality passes over the two men, the prince did not allow such doubt to surface before his countryman, “That is a gamble we must take. We cannot take back our nation without an army and we must now be more wary of Debluar. Though they are willing to lend aid, it is with the underlining intention to claim our nation for themselves. We must tread carefully with this alliance. Come, let us prepare for battle.”

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And so, Pelderam reworks its strategy under the guidance of lord Belhephet. Patience, four days pass as Belhephet secures the extreme demands of the power-hungry King Delphy. Gradually the seeds of war begin to flourish once more as Pelderam forces strengthen their efforts within the remaining nations of Fotica and Hatche.

Drawing the prince of Letrasia back into the fray from sudden inhibitions against Debluar aid, the remaining band make way to Fotica in hopes of gaining favor from their ally.

Meanwhile, Dagger, an assassin under Belhephet’s name, has been charged with finding the lost Letrasian princess. In his uncanny aptitude, all signs lead the assassin toward the boarder of Debluar and Letrasia. Unaware, however, the princess’s unexpected savior, Equadriose, one of the Four Cords, remains with her. Together and oblivious of the war as they live these precious four days in calm solitude. Quickly the unlikely couple grow a strong bond in their isolation, words of their past bringing them closer together as the silence around them allows such brevity. Unaware, that what they had long run away from was slowly catching up to meet them.

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“Ever since I met you Equadriose, I felt for you in a way I’ve never felt for someone. I love you Equadriose.”

“You love me?” I reply, appeased at last she spoke what I’ve long known she desires, “Very well, then I will love you,” And to her words, I began to remove my clothes.

“W-wait, what are you doing!?” I look up to find her startled by my actions.

“You wish to love me do you not? I will do as you ask.”

“Oh, no, no, not sex.”

“Sex?” I ask, puzzled. Never have I heard such a word in my life, “What is, sex?”

A question I saw she had never thought to cross her mind. Rather amusing I wager given her bashful smile, “Well, sex is when two people make love.”

“But what is love if not making love?” I remain confused to her reasoning, this word of hers appearing redundant but I could not deny the fiery sensation slowly overtaking me.

“Having sex, the heat of passion, that is sex. That is making love. But love itself is something different, something more.”

“Something more?” at last I begin to realize what she alluded, yet I allowed myself to be curious.

“Love is not just the act of sex, Equadiose. Love is happiness, joy. When one is in the presence of another whose aura fills them with unexplainable bliss. Love is the desire to be with someone, their memory a part of your everyday life. Love is to think of them always, to consider them. To touch them, to be with them forever and knowing that you are safe there, free when you are together. That is love Equadriose.”

“You, you mean you can love without, sex?”

“Of course! Love is not just a physical connection; it comes from your heart. You may love anyone, a friend, a family member… me.”

“Love, love is, how, you, feel.”

A nod, she saw I understood now, “Yes.”

Indeed, by her words I almost wept as she said it for I now came to realize the lie that had been branded into my mind. Love is not, sex, that which master enjoys, and enjoyed watching us do with one another. No, love was something else. That, feeling, that desire, explained to me at last, I looked off in memory to the one she spoke of, her image fixated in my mind forever. Love, I love her. And a turn to Cassandra, looking deep into those eyes, I saw what I had never been able to tell her.

A smile, I look to her with new life, her image beautiful beside me, now more than ever.

“Then let me love you too.”

And I take her in my arms and kiss her like I never have before. She melted as I touched her in the way I have long avoided, afraid I would be made to perform the act of sex and not the act of love. The feeling, the emotion I have carried with me, felt to her, now conveyed in the way I wanted.

That day I loved her like no other, heart filled with uplifting bliss as the thought continued to fester within me, unlocking feeling after feeling I have longed to allow myself to experience, to share with the one I love.

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At last, Pelderam sways favor. Led by the marionette Lucacia, Pelderam tips the scale with increased pressure and seizes the already distressed nation of Fotica in an impending battle upon their main fortress: the Frillia Wall. A broad and ancient architectural achievement before Palace Fotica. Manmade, the wall has stood as the barrier to secure the capital for decades, its doors held fast in a final conflict to save the nation. But now, it too falls to Pelderam, a weakness in the wall’s corner becoming its downfall as Queen Melotic orders troops to its defense in an attempt to save the nation. But alas, too late, Pelderam breaks through and makes way into the palace, the two armies still at war as Fotica is chopped at the head. Those remaining fighting in a scene to mark the palace.

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Blue, it sways gently in its many folds, a lavish fabric strung along the walls of the palace, rippling in the breeze brought from the echoing sounds of battle. Silence is all that is found here, a lone figure sitting before an empty chamber. A woman, with bright blue hair matching almost that of the banners around her. A strange hue, her eyes look somber as she rests upon her throne of brass and sapphire. The symbols of Fotica bestrewn all about resting at her sides as she looks on to the doorway of the palace.

It is already open.

She rises after a pause, her eyes looking to where they have always looked.

“You came. I knew you would,” so very sad, and yet in her pale sorrow, there was a glimmer of happiness, pure and unwavering.

“Melotic,” his voice sounded different as those words played through his lips, his black image still before the throne, velvet cast about him, bold like a shadow in the sun.

He looked to her with his chin protruding in a handsome manner, the hood off to reveal a defined face gleaming as deathly pale as those he creates. Cream colored hair stands short upon his head, revealing the skin a shade darker. But in his black pupils is not hate or malice, nor vindictiveness, or deceit. He too looks happy, facing the blue queen without a doubt in his gaze.

“I knew this would happen someday. Deep down I knew you would go this way.”

“Melotic, you are still so very beautiful. Your blue hair, so unique, so strange. I always loved how similar we were in that respect.”

“Why has it come to this, Belhephet?”

“You know why,” his voice grew dark, eyes faltering and shame appeared though not seen by her, “What they had done. What you all had done.”

“I did nothing, Belhephet, why can you not see that!!” tears, they matched her hair, fell silently down her cheeks, “I was powerless.”

“Yes… You did nothing, yes. Nothing at all Melotic. And that is why you hurt most of all,” pause, in his own eyes did the black figure weep, “You know, I had thought, that out of all of them, I could forgive you, but…”

“But here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“The Frillia Wall, did you see it?”

“Yes, it is still as beautiful as I remember,” he looked to her again, this time his metaphor not meant for a work of stone.

“I remember when we laid the first stone and how you whispered in my ear. Do you remember what you said?” her face, it lit up to this, her eyes meeting his, seeing into the windows of his soul.

A smile to cross the black face, “Hmm, yes I remember.”

To this, silence returns to the hall, the sounds of battle like the tide, endless to the ear as the war about them was brought back into focus.

“I love you Belhephet, I always will.”

“I love you too Melotic.”

A broken heart, though she spoke first, his was meant even more and it was this passion that drove him to break stance, the black flowed across to meet the blue. And in embrace he gripped her, kissing her passionately. Deeply, she welcomed his touch, her own longing wanting it to last forever. A moment longer until they parted slowly, both of them knowing what comes next. Together they look into one another’s eyes, and it is upon Belhephet’s lips that words wish to be spoken, confessed in these final moments. But he does not speak, only looks into her eyes before parting from her. Swift, he walks away, leaving her standing, unsure of what to do. He shuffles his robes quickly, fighting back his eyes as he never looks back.

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” she calls out to him, commanding him to stop.

A moment, all is still, before he continues on without a word.

Never looking back.

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Before the empty sea-blue of Fotica stands twin robes of black, the thicker mass looking toward the other of dead lifeless flesh, its eyes blinking, unable to fathom the emotion behind his own.

Or so he thought.

“Do it.”

“Yes master.”

Far quicker than the words spoken, the two of black part ways, one away into the landscape of war and the other into the chamber of Palace Fotica.

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I awaken to her beside me, lying gently in a comfortable shape around my arm, eyes closed, content, her slender figure lies on its side as I sit up from our alcove. I take this moment to look at her further, with my own content a serenity to remembering what had just happened between us the day prior. I smile to its feeling still warm within me.

Welcoming me to a new day are the sounds of the forest, a glance to individual noises, I look across the green around us, the sun shining through flickering leaves high overhead. I feel the crisp moisture against my naked skin, reminding me the euphoria of our love, now playing clearly through my mind, recalling her face; serene, happy, satisfied, as I obeyed every desire her body exuded. More so was realizing she had done the same for me. So strange yet enjoyable I smile, stifling a chuckle to admitting I had felt selfish pleasure for the first time. My will was no longer solely for the use of another. So vivid, what she had taught me, her actions loving, true love. The likes of which I had never experienced now very real before me and I knew I was no longer the same. All these, emotions, I concluded their recollection in a calm, thoughtful smile bestowed upon her sleeping face. Her arms held to my side adjusting in their slumber to tighten slightly. So sweet, this made me smile even more but a glance to somewhere in the distance flashing movement I knew was not of the forest.

Another motion, I now recall why I had woken in the first place, my mind cautious as I scan the trees far out, the shadows of the green covering them further.

“Cassandra,” I whisper as I gently awaken her from pleasantry and into the uncertainty of the new dawn. Rising then to my feet as I know Cassandra comes to realize my behavior.

“What is it?”

“I sense a presence. We are being watched.”

Further out, I catch the trees move, snaring the course of its path as I process what moves to make.

I create space from Cassandra and move into the clearing, never taking my eyes off the trailing in the leaves. Very subtle differences, the marks of a skilled assassin.

“Equadriose,” she whispers from behind me, I hear her cling to her clothes, the movement of cloth indicating she was attempting to dress herself though I could sense she was not within range of the disturbance.

“Stay where you are,” I said to her, feeling eyes quickly glance to me from their sound, then back to her.

A moment and I take another step, a dagger coming down upon me.

Immediately I jump to see emerging from the green a black leathered figure dashing directly at me, the tip of its black metal shinning in the slips of the sun casting down overhead.

“Equadriose!!”

Anticipating this I dodge but not without the edge scathing my right arm. To this I extended my left arm and conjure a wave of chocking black, followed by a ray that could not reach completion.

Too fast, the figure ran out of the way, turning back and lunging onto me, our two bodies falling down into the grass. A cry from Cassandra.

“Do not attack!” I call between the scuffle, knowing her emotions to aid may blind her to the danger this enemy held.

“Good, yes, listen to this puppet. It tells you what you need to hear.”

I wrestle him across the grass, that long black dagger brandished in one hand, held firmly in my left in an attempt to disable.

“Equadriose I must aid you.”

A glance saw the acid of her element singeing the leaves about her mercilessly to her fury.

“NO!! Don’t!” I shout at her, “Anything you send upon this man will transfer unto me.”

“What?” baffled she knew not what I said.

“He is a shade, a ghost used only to kill, he can channel magic through his body, affliction by such can be transferred to those closest to him.”

“So you do still remember your teachings puppet. Good boy, yet still you turn your back upon your Master.”

A second tumble, I twist his right arm in an attempt to seize the left. Failure, he counters with a bend and a knee to my abdomen. Knocking himself loose, he then stabs wildly for my head, my movements swift as I sway from out and under his thrusts. Again, I take the space I have made to conjure black matter, dispelling it into his body as he lunges off of me but too close, the cool of its impact felt through me, slowing my actions as I will myself past it to meet him head on. Twin shots, I flash him with two waves but he lunges between them with daggers now in both hands. I duck out of the way and strike him directly through the middle, an ethereal voice echoing distress from impact.

Quickly he springs back to his feet, lashing at me from horizontal angles. I summon a wall of ebony, its black shattering into glass as he cuts his way toward me, to which I then create a pillar followed by encasing veils of obsidian, drowning him as he becomes trapped in my magic. I centralize all of it within him and his body falls to the earth as I leave a sliver of his life remaining.

Silence.

Defeat weighs heavy in the air as I stand before the assassin panting heavy, finally allowed to look over my shoulder to see Cassandra gripped in uncertainty. Then back to the assassin beneath my feet.

“Who are you? Why has Master sent you?” I knew the response by just witnessing the glimmer in his eye, “You did not mean to kill me, only to disable me.”

“I was to kill the princess of Letrasia…”

“I know. How were you able to find us, I cannot sense Master this far away.”

A wheezing voice coughing blood as black as his own garb. Satisfaction played a smile across his heavy breathing, “It was easy to smell your travels but it is a shame you waste your time here. Hehehehehe,” a sickly laugh as if he knew something I wanted to know.

“You imply something.”

“Fotica, is falling, and here you are alone with that worthless human, it is a shame. Lucacia, I hear has almost destroyed the nation. And what do you have to present to your Master? Nothing! Hehehe…”

A shudder, though this time I knew what it was, that name spoken and with it returning my insatiable longing.

“Hehe, it truly is a shame to be replaced by such a pathetic creature… Yet here you are. Now, I realize, the true meaning of this. Hehehe, you are such a fool.”

A black flash, I silence the assassin without a further thought, the action so sudden Cassandra flinched from the brutality of it.

I look to her.

“Equadriose? What does he mean, what is going on?”

“We are being followed. We have to leave. It is not safe here anymore. I will take you to a safe place.”

“And where will you go?”

“I must head to Fotica.”

“Fotica? Our ally?”

“Yes, I must go there.”

“Well then,” steadfast she stood firm in my grasp, “I will not hide. If you are going then I will go with you.”

I smile to her defiance, welcoming her aid.

Together then we make ready and take into the green of the forest once more. I, never looking back, only forward to what I knew awaited me.

[Equadriose]

Chapter 12 : Blue Testament

Blue matches blue, the clear sky seen so openly above, so calm against the ocean colors of Fotica’s proud architecture. Arches upon arches leading bridges of multiple levels across the buildings of the blue country. Aqueducts raised by the architecture of man, the ocean a source of sustenance and art to the blue that is Fotica. But pan down to its surface and the muffled echoes of war sound into the air. Brash clashes of steel and harrowing cries of wounded armor blare into the calm, making it calm no more.

Heated battle the broad plaza of Ocreshen is filled with the raging of war, knights clad in blue and sapphire hold their stances against the army of white, their numbers few as they gradually fall to the rise of Pelderam’s fleet.

“We have to get to the Frillia Wall. From there we can enter the heart of Fotica and reach the castle,” heightened in pitch to be heard over the battlefield, Melcore’s polished brass holds tense to the side of green.

Prince Velchimar nods, “Okay, lets split up. The plaza is open. Flush out the walls of the city so we can reduce the damage from long-ranged attackers.”

“Agreed.”

A fork, to the right the brass paladin and his brigade veer, their galloping horses entering the fray with swift undertaking, leaving the three of Letrasia to take after the left.

“Okay, Nethanial, come with me.”

Lead by the prince, the green enters their charge and moves into a hallway of blue stone. Quiet, though the sounds of battle are heard not far off, the tension of anticipation follows.

“Where is the action?” comments the emerald cleric, hands wrapped tight around Nathaniel, though her voice rang with uncertainty, her physicality tense.

“We will get there soon enough,” commented the prince.

“Enjoy it while you can.”

A stretch, turning at the right, the two speed into a lower hall, steps meeting them on the right as a slew of white turns to meet them. Branching, with no time to question, Velchimar takes the high ground, leaving Nethanial and Chandis to go down the steps.

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Swinging upon the enemy, Nethanial cuts down two knights unsuspecting of his arrival, lowering his steed carefully, the stone steps tricky. Two archers from the higher pathway shower down arrows catching Nethanial’s left side. Chandis reaches out a hand, replenishing new wounds quickly. Again, three this time rise to meet their decent, parrying the first, Nethanial throws out a swing to catch the second, his steed kicking the third out of the way as they make it to the ground level, four of white coming their way. From the right Nethanial spars with the first two, slashing them with ten moves, he then reaches the other two as they mark his path. With aid by Chandis, the path bends to the left, entering sunlight again in morning midday shadow. They turn, catching speed as five archers come from behind.

“Watch out!”

To Chandis’s warning, Nethanial veers hard left, holding to the upper wall and limiting the range of the archers. A volley over shoulder, three guards come toward their lone steed, Nethanial sparing with only one before braking for an exit.

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Meanwhile, Velchimar takes the high ground, his sword catching the archers above as he swerves his horse through the pillars of the neighboring walkway. Deflecting the arrows, but not all, two catch his riding arm, pain searing the prince as he runs through two more of their number. A turn misses two more, giving him time to come within range. He takes down those who shot at him. Pain outweighs adrenaline though as the arrows remain lodged in his arm. He battles three more archers and a knight before turning with the path to the left.

Inside, the neighboring hall merges the entire walkway into a small plaza, to his surprise, welcoming the Letrasian prince to a minor skirmish.

Before him stood ten knights of Pelderam, their lances moving in attempts to gore their target. The target, a lone swordsman, his blue garb low of stature yet marking detail in important creases of the fabric. He moved to his art, cutting down two of the knights with unmatched skill, eyes sharp, precise, his long hair equal to his garb flowing along his movements. Blue, Fotica blue. It is well known the native people of Fotica can be identified by their natural cerulean hair, an odd yet unmistakable birthright of the nation of the sea. Seamless, his actions were so fluid, a single long blade slicing through the numbers before him with ease as the emerald prince came halfway into the battle.

A glance to the blue, Velchimar nodded in acknowledgement as he began a duel with two of the knights, stealing glances to the blue warrior as he fell three of their number. A swift dodge from the left lance; Velchimar slipped his blade into the side of the knight, too soon, the right lance caught his shoulder just as he motioned to deflect it. A different way now, he kicked the lance into the sky before dealing the final blow. Silence now came to the clattering of the white armor, the battle won now granting the two standing their introduction postponed.

“Not bad, but you still lack the timing to save yourself from wounds,” a calm mature voice, unexpected as the man looked only twenty-five.

Breathing heavy the prince turned towards his fellow defender, “Thank you, but you must excuse me; I am still learning the combat of war.”

“Haha a noble I presume; such etiquette should only be left for the court. What is your name brave fighter?”

“I am prince Velchimar of Letrasia,” gasped the prince, the swordsman at his side offering support in addressing his wounds. To that title shock flashed across the long-haired warrior.

“Prince Letrasia? My word, I thought your nation had been all but taken?”

“It has. My companions and I barely escaped due to my father’s request,” still those words hurt to speak, “We are all that is left of our nation.”

“I see, then in such a rare state, why have you come to Fotica?”

“We seek to aid your nation in its reclamation. Pelderam is stretching far across Hephreness. We must stop them.”

“Ah, I see, well speak no more. We need much of the aid. The main wall is being sieged, I am on my way to offer support, or trying…” a gesture to the battle that had just taken place.

“As are we.”

Whimsically the swordsman looked about, “I don’t see anyone else.”

“We got separated. The Frillia Wall must be held.”

A slight smile crosses the strong face of the blue swordsman, “We seem to have the same goal. Perhaps we can help one another.”

“That would be greatly beneficial, yes,” winced the prince.

“Haha, indeed. I have a team with me. Pelderam cannot be allowed to take the capital. Perhaps you could join us.”

“Yes, but I must find my companions first, we are stretching thin.”

“Ah, where have they gone to?”

“They are a paladin and cleric, Nethanial and Chandis. They took to the lower path of this hallway and as for Melcore, his brigade took the right passage at Ocreshen plaza.”

A second shock, “Melcore? You mean the prince of Debluar is here too? My have you been a busy prince indeed.”

A carefree attitude amidst a seemingly strong exterior, the man puzzled the prince though mildly agitated him at the same time.

“Yes, well such is the ways of war. Tell me stranger, you have not introduced yourself as I have. What is your name?”

“Oh, yes, of course, I am-.” An interruption, both men turn to the call of a female voice,

“Eleazar!!” her voice echoes in whisps of arid flare, a glance to its source revealing a blue short haired woman, her attire completely well armored on her left side as she waved with her right. Strapped across her shoulder was a duel quiver of arrows tipped to almost match her hair as her left armored hand carried a broad bow of expert craftsmanship. A sniper it would seem, her craft could be implied far more dangerous than her inflection.

A feigned smile, the blue swordsman bated eyes as if the surprise had been ruined, the woman calling again;

“Eleazar!”

“Yes, Flendria? Has Bale managed to open that gate?”

“He sure has, better come quick, the Pelderam forces are gaining on us. Not sure if we can hold this spot for that much longer,” a humored smile, her eyes turned quickly to seeing the prince, acknowledging him with a polite nod before running off to where she had come.

“Well,” his visage ruined, the swordsman extended a hand in invitation, “Do not worry, we are of this city. If your friends took the lower access, we will surely meet up with them.”

“Very well then, I will follow you, Eleazar,” in kind, the emerald accepted and the two rushed toward where archer had moments ago stood.

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Going up a short set of stairs lead them into a small corridor followed by a second plaza, more so a balcony as it outstretched to reveal the city below. Surrounded by staircases extending into walkways paving the height of this level, the buildings of the city could be seen far across its frame, awash in the blue haze of distance. Stopped amidst the horizon was the massive Frillia Wall. An incredible work of stone, seen crisp amidst the sun’s heat. Unable to deny such astounding wonder, the prince took a moment to absorb the sight, salty sea air catching amidst breath to the extreme of daylight. Such a tranquil scene. So hard to believe it all stood locked in bitter war. A blink, movement catches in the side of his eye, the swordsman and he rushing into this scene to a battle meeting them hard pressed at the forefront.

“My prince watch out!”

Back into the now, the prince lost focus as he nimbly ducked to Eleazar’s call, a sword swing missing his head. A Pelderam soldier attacking from close quarter. The prince countered, crossing swords with five moves before spinning downward to strike the leg, then a jab across the chest, finishing the knight as three others came into fray, stopped short to being struck with an arrow to the head. A glance to the left reveals the blue haired woman poised with bow out stretched, her airy persona focused with an eye of a hawk. Sharp, like her arrows.

“Easy there, wouldn’t want an unfair fight,” she smiles to Velchimar before turning her gaze, and her bow, to the other twenty Pelderam soldiers.

Peculiar was her approach to him but the prince knew now was not the time. With her came Eleazar, his blade swift as he dove into the incoming crowd. Fluid motions as powerful as they were deadly fell two before moving quickly to another on the opposite flank. He disoriented them, confusing the enemy and leaving them vulnerable as he cut down three more, perfect for the eye of the archer as she seized their immobility to her advantage.

But to the prince’s surprise, another entered this seen, one as unique as the Fotican warriors themselves. Black hair and black and white cloth, but not truly cloth. Sturdier, it held to his bare arms in wraps of black. Spotted in strange angular designs, tipped in feathers, the cloth surrounded his bare body, waist and legs covered in a similar manner extending down to his feet. Almost a rectangular image of wings it gave the appearance. His hair straight black to his dark tan skin, blowing freely in the sea air to such a loud entrance. A pair of feathers pierced his right ear, blowing gently by his side as his motions carried fluidity like that of the swordsman, more so from pride than skill. In his hands a broad axe, its tempered steel bold, catching the light of the sun as it cut through the crowd of Pelderam forces. Even the knights’ thick armor no match for such a foe. His swings were broad, strong, abrupt, utilizing speed and power to grapple his foes. A brave, though an entire nation, the people of Hatche are a rare sight to behold, their culture attuned to nature itself, mystical embodiment strong to their beliefs as their strength is known well across all of Hephreness. All this the prince takes in, these new characters a sudden rush of uncertainty as to what he was getting himself into.

But that was not all.

“What are you people doing let’s go!” A man from the right caught attention under the powdery shade of the walkway. Garbed in flowing cloth and hard leather, his eyes were piercing amidst dark navy hair. That must be Bale, the prince thought.

“It’s this way!" the airy voice of Flendria never stopped moving, together now all motion toward this fourth entry.

Attention came as Eleazar matched eyes with Velchimar, indicating him to follow, lead the Letrasian prince through the battle as they parried two more knight who had managed to slip through the brave’s defense. A glimpse overhead revealing reinforcements, voices sounding faintly over the noise of battle as a row of archers made way behind the ranks.

“Oh drat, competition.”

“Lone Oak! It’s time to go!”

“Yes.”

Unbeknown, the brave acted to these words, his powerful visage turning slowly to the right, pressing onward to keep the knights of white at bay. Two mighty swings of his axe cleaved their voices into the salty air, following with a spin gaining further footing toward the right, reaching into the folds of his dress. Hidden, the prince caught glimpse of his reasoning. Turning back, with the momentum of the swing, the brave let loose a second axe from under the stiff black and white of his garb, its metal blade cleaving the air as it hurled far above the knights. Spinning like a boomerang, it made its mark upon the archers, their numbers falling as the small axe cut through them with force, returning its path back to the brave. With another swing of his great axe, an outstretched hand caught the hand axe as it met him.

“My prince, we must leave, now!”

Dazzled by this sight, no warrior has the Letrasian prince ever seen perform such a feat. Visions of his father playing through his mind in great combat, showing how to throw a chain sword only to ring it back with a jerk to catch in midair. As powerful as they are unknown, the people of Hatche were as legendary as they say.

“Incredible.”

“Come on Lone Oak!” again the blue swordman.

A dash, and the prince did not even notice himself leave the rows of white armor, the blue brick walls cutting his focus as he accompanied Eleazar down a flight of stairs.

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A turn of face revealed a door, its iron-cast detail seen broken in certain areas so as not to damage the work as a whole, truly a master locksmith.

“Watch out!”

The door opened from the other side as the navy haired man came within range, two swordsmen coming from its new entry, causing him to shuffle backwards.

Without notice two arrows flew from the hand of Flendria, her actions saving him as the two men fell from head shots, Bale turning with a wink and smile of salutation.

“Thanks, love.”

Quickly the company made it to the door, everything happening so fast. Velchimar could hear the girth of the great brave behind him as a mix of shade and stone hit them to the new surroundings opposite the portal.

“This way, if we get to the main hall, we can reach the Wall.”

Sharp left, they turn between arches, the sounds of feet not their own sounding around.

No time to look back at their pursuers, the prince found himself surrounded by his new companions, bumping shoulders with the master thief unto his right.

A glance, “Hey how’ya doing,” he breathed in a smoky voice.

Directly ahead they stretched an empty path, arches illuminating the hall as the sun from outside made its way diagonally through them. Blurs of that massive wall catch between the stone passing by.

“It’s so far.”

“Now, Flendria you will be taking the rear, Bale I need you to guard her and be the eyes behind her head.”

“Yes sir.”

“Lone Oak, you will take center, I will cover your flank and keep them off your back.”

“Hmmm.”

Looking unto the prince, the aged but defined face of Eleazar for a moment reminded the prince of his own father’s, “You will cover me. Archers like to hide all over the place.”

A nod without words, the prince breathed, trying to keep focus, oblivious to his wounds as the adrenaline of the now gave him no time to think of it.

They stop at a broader arch covered by twin walls, revealing an open broad plaza spanning the length unto the Great Frillia Wall, the image serene but a lie for movement stirs in the crevices of those great buildings.

Pressing against the walls of the entryway on both sides, the group collect themselves a moment’s breath.

“Who’s the new guy?” her voice sounded so sweet and curious.

“Velchimar, prince of Letrasia. He got separated from his companions. We intend to make sure he reunites with them. Coincidentally we are all heading to the same place.”

For a moment all eyes turn upon the emerald prince though they felt surprisingly welcome in their silence. Caution held trepidation but such kindness from an even stranger group proved to dismiss these fantasies.

An exchange of nods acknowledging him.

“A pleasure.”

“Well, I’ll be the first to say it is an honor,” almost ecstatic, a warm smile crossed the snipers face, so joyous.

“Are we ready then?”

“Let’s do this.”

“I am ready.”

“Ready.”

A brave smile played upon the swordmaster’s face, “Let’s go then. For Fotica our blade will not be dismissed.”

And thus, they took arms.

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The arena stood empty said for those four within it. Master watches down upon the two figures before him. Naked, moans come from their entangled figures as they embrace one another on the cold stone. I can hear his breathing beside me as he pleasures himself, eyes transfixed, his mouth a placid smile of both envy and lust. It is a look that we, by make, aspire to see but have grown to abhor as well. Lucacia and Geldoblame, his chiseled body motions back and forth as he holds her by her slender ankles, causing her to motion to his strokes. I stand at the side of Master, my eyes transfixed upon their display, mocked by the pleasure strewn across her face as he loved her. Perhaps a trick for she knew how I wanted her and yet she moaned in such pleasure as to haunt my ears to the melody I could never give.

“Ooh, yes. Harder,” the hiss of Master’s voice sounded to my side, his hand upon my own body, my purpose to be something to touch as if it were what played before him. I watched her; my eyes unwavering to my torment. I began to cinder, embers burning to my own self-affliction in refusing to look away.

Without question Geldoblame obeyed, his perfect face looking up to the sound of Master, his eyes so full of eagerness to appease, but a glance unto me revealed that empty longing I always saw.

Quicker, his pace rose as he eagerly obeyed, Lucacia’s voice sounding as they changed positions, moving her about he entered her once more, a cry not of pleasure but of pain escaping from the unexpected thrust.

To this, the embers took hot flame, sending heat down my body in a rage I could not explain. Instinctively I jumped from my seat, barely containing myself at the last moment. I returned to composure but alas my reaction exposed me. I grew deathly still, ashamed I had let such intention be seen so openly.

“Equadriose!” Master exclaims, “What are you doing? Your beauty belongs at my side.”

“I…” I do not finish the words upon my lips, my action enough. I knew not to incite Masters wrath with words.

From my little display are the eyes of Lucacia drawn upon me, the true reason I am silenced for I found in those eyes a pacifying anguish I grew speechless to witnessing.

“You wish to join them? That would be, amazing. But not tonight, my gorgeous work of art. Please come back to my side. Come, come here,” he pulls me back by my abdomen, my body obeying but I remain transfixed. From that moment on, she did not look away, the two of us, holding onto one another through eyes. She knew.

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The following night my outburst had colored Master’s attention and I was displayed with Geldoblame and Melotica. In the same, amidst our wreathing and sensual pleasure I glanced up to see Lucacia where I had sat the night prior and I realized in the same expression that her eyes now mirrored my own.

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We run as the structures of civilization pass underneath our feet. Blue stone, so intricate in how small they were but thousands upon thousands build this nation into an empire of the sea. Blue arches line our passage as we slip from the green forests of the Letrasia’s boarder into the outskirts of Fotica. It is not long until the cityscape of the blue capital surrounds us, the sounds of battle muffled but ever present. We work our way through the halls of blue stone. Like pillars the buildings lied in uniform, the interworking arches of water canals the only unique pattern to this sustained nation. So fragile as to be the first to fall.

We made our way through the blue city of Ocreshen, the salty air kissing our skin as we slip through the battle torn square. It is evening now. The shade of the buildings granting us leverage, my black a utility upon its deception. We tread carefully.

As we make it into the heart of the city no words are spoken between us, focus gripped so fully in traversing the battlescape. We venture east, passing a series of houses. Hold fast, a patrol, I beacon her to follow right, turning into the next line of buildings. Intuition, I do not have to gather, but know she anticipates the same. Two buildings more, we return east unto a central plaza.

“Horses,” her whisper powerful in its direction.

A moment, galloping could be heard nearing our location. Quickly we separate as I see a cavalier come into our path.

“Take the pillar,” I utter, turning for one of the buildings as she, a row of arches.

I hear an echo as we slip out of sight, too late, the cavalier I’m sure has taken notice of us.

I assume position and spare a glance to see her taking shelter.

Sure enough a brigade of horsemen enter, led by a paladin. White armor, Pelderam.

They pass before the cavalier. Taking this distraction, I use their own group to deflect my image in running toward where she hid.

Together again, we take a moment before pressing further.

“Let’s go.”

Return unto the blue stone, further east and we come upon narrower buildings, the first wall of the capital looming into view. In catches of bright sunlight we slip through the arches’ contrasting shadows, avoiding countless soldiers as we move, all in white.

“Where are the forces of Fotica?” she whispers into my ear as we pass a temple, two knights walking by as we angle ourselves to blend in with the stone, rushing then behind them into the right exit of the following building. Indeed, the sight of a blue knight yet to be seen. I notice this as well.

“The remaining Fotican offense must be protecting the Frillia Wall.”

“The Frillia Wall?”

“Yes, it is the boarder that sanctions off the harbor. It is also where the capital palace is held. There, being the heart of Fotica. That is where most likely this battle will be decided,” we pass three buildings, entering along the boarder wall as we slip past archers guarding it from above. A moment’s pause in the shade of the stone, “We must go there.”

Up ahead, I point her to where I looked, the wall itself standing high above the intricate stonework of the outlining fort, its elusive blue complementing the open sky so majestically amidst the wanning sunlight. I see in her eyes she is captivated by the suddenness of its image. Such a massive work of stone a rare thing to be built by human hands.

“Come.”

Quickly, we run through the flanks, the sounds of battle nearing as the buildings display sharp shadows of those locked in combat ahead. Indeed, we were nearing the main conflict.

I hear the cries and the blood forcing its way from the throats of those dying. I do not lead her there, no instead we move toward the eastern wall. And that’s when it hit me. A wave of euphoric angst I could not mistake as any other sense. Like a wall itself I was taken aback to having passed its threshold.

She was here. I sensed it without a doubt.

“Fotica, this is the nation of our allies.”

“Yes, and also the first nation to be invaded. Master had used them as a decoy to…” I catch myself but she bows her head in understanding.

“Why are you doing this?” her breath still a whisper.

“The assassin had indicated Pelderam’s current position; there is something here that I must find.”

“Find?” she does not understand and I cannot bring myself to tell her.

We turn amidst the building, leading her I catch sight of five paladins, inlaid with brass armor, the sounds of muffled combat heard now clearly to the presence of a battle they were locked in. Pelderam forces rained down upon them as they spread along, their images valiant. Debluar is here too it would seem. I turn back amidst the blue stone.

“Equadriose! What’s wrong?” she is startled by my sudden halt.

I take a moment to gather myself, remembering the map long beaten into our minds, “This way.”

I take her down a different path, through a sheltered complex leading into a row of knights standing guard. Before they notice, we slip into an intricate window, leading out unto the stone wall.

“Through here.”

“Equadriose….”

“Do not be afraid I have you.”

We carefully traverse the walkway leading unto the opposite side, I, checking our path to be clear before proceeding back along the opposite. Through a series of buildings, we make our way, careful as to bypass any knights. I notice their numbers increase, shouts sounding as soldiers are called to arms. It is becoming harder to avoid them.

A pass through a hall followed by two buildings. We are near the Wall now, seen clearly through the windows of the archways.

A skirmish, unexpected amidst the apparent silence of its engagement, we walk into a fight. White of Pelderam and blue of Fotica exchange blows as they hold the bridgeway. They take notice of us, voices heard but only slightly. I do not allow them to draw breath. I dispatch the knights and swordsmen before me under waves of black.

A second volley, my magic drew attention, the blue taking advantage of Pelderam’s distraction to attempt fatal strike. Those left behind draw their lances upon me; twin moves I carry Cassandra with my left as my right hand unleashes twin explosions of darkness, breaking their bodies unto the floor. My methods I see are still difficult for her to accept. Though I, feel, ashamed for this I know not any other way.

“This way,” I take us through an alternative route, anticipating fewer opponents.

Stray swordsmen in blue.

“Wait!”

Without a thought I dispose of them, rays seeping unto their bodies, pulling what is now lifeless to the floor.

I feel her tug against my robes, turning me to face her.

“I will not allow this. You cannot harm them!”

Ah, I see the frustration in the cringing of her eyes, the shaking of her hands.

“They are your allies. You do not wish them harmed.”

“Yes!” she stops with no further words, a moment to realize I had surmounted her discretion. But she did the unexpected and continued, “Disable them if you must but do not harm them to death. Or permanently cripple them.”

“Cassandra this is war. They cannot be overruled based off personal preference.”

“I will not sit by and watch my own allies be killed in my very presence. Find another way.”

Silence, I study her further before proceeding. The seriousness of her tone I could not mistake demanded obedience, “Very well.”

We continue further, passing through a dark room of pillars before reaching its opposite end, a series of arches. We follow them then make our way left, toward a stairwell leading down. Quickly we descend the steps before finding ourselves amidst the balcony of a second stairwell. I peer forth over its pedestal, the entrance to the Frillia Wall visibly surrounded by an army of both blue and white. Sounds of battle blare in our ears to what stood only a short distance away. As I had thought, Fotica holds their stance here, our only chance being to charge head first into the assault and utilize surprise as best we could.

“This is it. The Wall is just beyond this plaza. There is no way around it. We must get through this battle to reach it. Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, doubt now? But her face showed strong fortitude, chin straight, eyes piercing as they came to me, such beautiful eyes. I knew her answer even before she spoke.

“I told you, if you were to do this, I would go with you.”

I smile, amazed amidst my own strategy that I could find no alternative.

“Very well, stay close to me.”

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Shouts of reinforcements sound as we descend the stairs and run into the courtyard of the great wall. Horsemen seen charging forward toward the entryway south as we come from the east. Broad, the square opens to such a massive work of architecture, only a moment to witness the sea of fighters locked in combat at its base. A flash, I catch sight of two archers. Twin beams to three knights coming forward. They launch javelins upon my position.

“Equadriose watch out!”

I dodge quickly then fire one beam upon the right most knight. The others charge me and I dance to their blades. Slow and useless footmen, friend or foe, I see them no differently now to having been my minions prior. I dodge; pass three blasts upon the center then a ray to sweep through the third.

We now enter the main square, a large flat expanse retaining the foundation of which the Frillia Wall stood.

A magnificent work of architecture. Made of the combined efforts of magic both Master and Melotic, Queen of Fotica, had enlisted in its design. Many nights we would hear of his fondest times in its construction. A strange thought now revealing to me I had listened to that tale with a sense of joy, so rare in our upbringing but perhaps that is why it strikes me now.

No time to tarry the thought, we enter the walls front along its south-eastern boarder, the sun blocked at an angle casting shade across the sea of soldiers. Four horsemen come to surround us, their share of lances and swords held proper.

“Lord Equadriose, Master Belhephet requests your-.”

I do not let him finish for a command would be that much harder to disobey.

Upon death the others tremble. I cut them down in the same.

“What?”

Another group they surround us, drawing swords, Cassandra unleashes her noxious fumes, the poison eating away those flanking us.

“He has the princess of Letrasia with him! Get her!”

“Traitor, he’s gone mad!”

“Kill him!”

Word cries upon us as we quickly draw the entire square.

“Equadriose, there’s more!”

“We must make it towards the wall. Move carefully but we must push forward.”

“Oh, okay.”

Another beam, I jump from the thrust of a strong arm, following with a shard of black ripping the pole of its shaft into splinters. I down five more. Arrows seen now coming from afar. I dodge, moving Cassandra quickly from out of their range as they fall upon us.

Another volley, the emerald princess does not let the moment overwhelm her, surprising me. Her figure moves fluidly as her hands conjure vapors of green, blasting those far, spraying into the white of Pelderam as my darkness consumes those closer.

Together we make our way toward the monolith pillars defining its entry, the shade of the wall growing deeper as more of Pelderam come to overtake us. It would seem we have attracted a small army, those afar locked in combat with the forces of Fotica fortunately too far to notice us. Cassandra, I know now their main target, an arrow slips through her poison and strikes her.

“Cassandra!!” I cry out, for once my mouth stretching into an expression not intended for its make. I grab her quickly, sending a curtain of black to buy us a moment of time, “Cassandra!?”

She smiles, “I’ll be fine,” tense lips, she is in pain.

I nearly weep from the surge of emotion but control myself enough to draw my power and gather the chocking darkness around her. I fill her for a moment with it, turning the wound cold, I pull the arrow from her wound then seal it with my magic, stretching the skin closed. She does not feel it under the numbing, but close, too much of it into her body and I could kill her. I am careful.

“Equadriose,” she breathes new life.

I smile, this feeling locking the moment into my memory, “Come, I need you.”

In this second do we return to battle, arrows flying once more as the black dissipates from the strikes surrounding it. A lone paladin comes between us, attacking quickly in our moment of weakness and driving us apart.

“Cassandra!”

Too late, the silver blade swings again, forcing me out of its way to the left. I use my darkness to accelerate the movement, increasing my speed to a successful dodge, I then return fire with twin waves of black. The paladin manages to catch the first but not the second, another swing coming to parry but blurred the sensation. Twin beams made solid; I match his blade. Lodging it between them, the black then turns to liquid and pushes into him in thick clods. The kiss of death, he falls as I see green fill the background. No time, another swing and I am hit this time, a moment mesmerized by her allowing me to lose focus. A curse, in witnessing her aura I cannot help but become lost. I pinpoint the source and unleash twin blasts of darkness followed by a ray shot not only unto the paladin, but those behind him. Felling all three, I reach Cassandra just as she is dueling two knights, her hands shooting forth twin streams of pure emerald. The poison hits their targets in displays of sudden death.

“Are you okay?”

“Equadriose! Your shoulder!”

I look to my right to see a giant gash in my body, no doubt where that sword had landed. Red blood flows down my black robes. She, staring shocked but not in horror. It was the first time she saw me in a mortal light and I could not read her reaction to it.

“It will heal, watch out. Get behind me.”

Another group comes forth, shields raised, they strike in unison. I dodge, anticipating their attack and unleash a veil followed by it turning into a ring. More come but I am drawn to what reveals itself behind them.

Having reached the steps of the great wall, we have risen its level enough to peer over the masses, the blue now seen locked in combat ahead. But further still something flickers in the bright light of the sun. Metal, polished to that of nobility.

I break focus to the sensation of a spear striking me from behind, retracting from my flesh as Cassandra matches it with an explosion of porous vapor, the entryway into the wall is congested with Pelderam soldiers drawn to our approach.

I feel my body stiffen to the wound but I do not let it usurp my role, our army of two granted no moment for delay. Ten soldiers come forth, three swinging from the left, I shoot forth my most encompassing spells. Blasts of black filling the arena between the enormous pillars defining its entry. Amidst the shade of the wall, black envelopes the white, their armor falling to the massive clouds, rays, and floods I create while Cassandra holds our flank with her deadly poisons, the green masking our cumbersome march inward.

“Debluar! Fall back!”

I hear words sound through the army as those flickering figures near, my implications confirmed to the sight of brass armor.

“Debluar? That must be Melcore!”

Cassandra’s voice implies mixed feelings. I am not sure I can respond.

Quickly the crowd changes to those coming from behind, the paladins of Debluar making their mark unto the masses as they ride locked in combat.

Black is here to meet them, the white still engulfed in my chocking veils of darkness. I motion us to stay near the wall, Cassandra and I having made it to its peak.

Quickly the forces of Debluar take advantage of our flank, raising the steps, they clear the way, twin soldiers falling under the prince of brass as he nears us, discovering those who made it possible.

“You!” he calls towards me at the sight of my powers enveloping three knights.

I say nothing.

“You betray your own kind? Just how twisted are you creature? Surely, I am not surprised to find something like you to have no sense of loyalty,” distain beneath that helmet, I sense his father’s image.

But in his glare does he take notice of the emerald princess beside me.

“Cassandra!”

“Melcore!”

“My princess! You must get away from that creature!” slashing now, he came near us in an attempt upon me to separate the Letrasian princess.

“Melcore no! You do not understand! Don’t hurt him!”

I risk my own position to prevent him nearing her. Swinging upon me twin strikes for my chest I dodge in a wall of magic, turning it then into a wave of black.

“Equadriose!”

Too broad, I hear her voice and she is split from me.

“Come here you violent fiend!”

Another strike, followed by those around me, I fend of three strikes before given leverage. The Pelderam fleet now returning as the prince of Debluar is taken by a series of knights.

“Back! Cassandra, come near me! We are here with your brother!” I hear him say.

“My brother?”

“Yes, we are here to aid Fotica and take back the nation.”

Another blow, I am cut by a swordsman of white, returning the mark I drown him in blasts of black matter, then shoot down the two others before me.

I must return to Cassandra, her image slipping away, “Cassandra!”

“You will not near her creature!” the brass paladin strikes his enemies as Pelderam separates to flank us both, serving as a barrier. I cannot cover enough ground to reach her.

“Equadriose!”

“Cassandra!”

A lance I sense sends me to back flip to its impact. A general, broad armor comes forth amidst the white now. Two, one to me and the other unto Melcore; massive figures in thick sets, their strikes are powerful, overwhelming. I take my magic to gather around them, the other seen taking upon Melcore a heated duel. I am torn, my mission leaving me to abandon the Letrasian princess. Visions of those cream-colored eyes playing in my mind to the notion. Why I was here.

Another thrust, I match with a wall of black; shattered. Twin rays I sweep the ground in an engulfing wave, followed by more. A spin of his lance sends me back. I then strike with another beam, sending the armored sentinel in kind. Too much, I feel the heat of the sun’s light at my back, a turn to the sight of a second entrance. Just in time, two swordsmen near me, lunging. I nimbly dodge their strikes, twin beams overwhelming them in darkness as she who held my attack no longer there to watch me. I look back to see my adversary, the general reaching me, pushing our battle further unto the entryway. I realize this makes me susceptible to flanking and I make a full effort in ending his advance. A torrential horde of black, I sink back into him once more, crushing him in my darkness, shards fly into pillars of clouds, bursting then into rays of black; I then send forth my beams, dodging his lance as he still holds amidst my displays.

Gradually I am pushed further into the Frillia Wall, neither Melcore nor the princess no longer in view, their voices washed out to the sounds of battle. I have completely lost them. Strong sunlight now narrows my sight as I adjust to its brightness playing across the opposite side of the wall, further pushing me to accept I am no longer on the other side. I must depart toward the palace then, my situation truly my own now. Inevitable, this was the moment I had been waiting for. I wanted this to happen. I must go toward the one I came to see. She, ever near, and with my newfound knowledge I finally understood why I have wanted nothing more than to share it with her.

Goodbye Cassandra.

[Equadriose]

At last we have made it here. I really hope you all are enjoying the story.

Chapter 13 : The First Revelation

A sword to the midriff, Velchimar nimbly dodges, his sense heightened. Though his wounds remained it was his will that drove him to survive. A swing down upon a thrust lance, he cuts through its wood, turning it then upon the knight, he falls. Taking this moment to look around the prince runs toward the next group of soldiers, Eleazar at his back. Both fighters amidst a group of white, they had made it this far, stalemated upon the broad entryway ahead. Adjacent fought the master thief. Bale could be seen keeping the soldiers at bay as the beautiful Flendria shot them down from behind, her arrows encompassing many but still the armor was thick amongst those of Pelderam.

So few their numbers but Velchimar knew the outcome of this war depended on their actions. He would not fail. Gradually they fought their way ahead.

“Seal the gate, don’t let them get inside!”

Shouts from above could be heard. A glance from his left showing three archers dropping arrows perched above, soldiers moving toward the walls of the entryway, a gate in disguise now seen apparent as its broad doorway motioned from activity.

“No,” the prince muttered to himself, seeing an opening amidst the battle, “They’re sealing the gate! Hurry!”

“What?”

Flendria’s voice sounded in confusion but sharp eyes knew better. The others followed as prince Velchimar charged the doorway. Five knights come into view, their lances blocking his path. A sharp slide underneath, at the right angle, he pierces armor, felling one of them as Eleazar came afterward, dispatching the other two. But only slowing them down, in a race against time, the emerald prince ran for the doorway, his charge still restricted by nearing combat but he dodged it instead.

Too late, the doors sealed as he made it barely beforehand, those in such close pursuit unwavering in giving them a moment’s breath.

“There’s too many of them!”

Three arrows pierced the ranks only to be replaced with five more.

Twin slices followed by a spin to then counter an incoming swordsman. Disabled, a thrust of lance was halted by the broad axe of the Hatche brave.

“They will just keep coming!”

“How do we get passed this door!”

Over and over the Pelderam forces would not cease. There has to be another way. Quickly, to the cries of his colleagues, between blows Velchimar surveyed his surroundings, the archers above, now few in number thanks to Flendria’s own. A passageway to where those soldiers had retired, the workings of the gate revealed ropes amidst the stonework.

“Look there, we can cut that rope. Eleazar, I need you to cover me,” Velchimar beacons the blue swordsman, “Bale! Flendria!”

“I’m bizz-zay!”

“Look behind you, up there! See if you can get to that rope and cut it!”

“Where?”

“There, look!” the thief pointed out for the sniper’s attention.

“But who’s going to hold these guys at bay?”

“I will do what I can and serve as your barrier,” the deep voice of the brave sounded amidst the fight, his axe unwavering as it stroked the air, clearing Pelderam’s forces just as they continued to arrive.

“Thank you,” the prince showed gratitude, knowing not to question such sacrifice, “Okay, Eleazar, cover me.”

“I’m right behind you, my prince.”

Quickly amidst the thick of Pelderam lances, Velchimar sprinted for the passageway, reaching the staircase leading up to the gate lever. Five soldiers at his feet, Eleazar cleared his flank as Velchimar made it up the flight, turning at a short corner to meet a few archers. Gaining speed on them, he gambled to reach them before they could let off an arrow. Damn archers. Two quick slices brought them down mid quiver.

Reaching the rope, a glance to the opposite side showed the two Fotican warriors make quick speed to reach their own end.

“Eleazar give me a hand with this!”

Without wasting time, the prince began to cleave the rope, his blade slicing through its thick strands.

“You sure this will work?”

“It has to,” blind in the midst of battle, Velchimar took a moment to realize such naivete. His mind was weary and perhaps his wounds were catching up to him. A cut across his side and shoulder new additions to those arrow-wounds long since received.

Oh, Chandis where are you?

At last, the rope snapped with a thunderous clap, falling and sending the opposite end to shoot into the mechanism of the gate, the door fumbled, moving slowly until the same noise sounded from the opposite end.

“Hahaa!” both Letrasian and Fotican exclaimed with success, turning then to make their way back down into the battle below in desperation to support the fifth of their number. Lone Oak worked alone amidst a small army of white surrounding him.

In swift stroked Velchimar dispatched his enemies, cutting through the ranks, now flanking both sides of the Hatche brave. Together now, returning them to Lone Oak as his axe dealt the final blows. Alas, still, they came.

“Miss us, big guy!?” Flendria’s voice remained cheery still, retaining though the quickness of breath from the heated battle.

“Well done, prince Letrasia.”

“Thank you,” once more the prince found himself thanking the brave, the man bringing forth a noble visage his own nobility seemed to melt before.

“Well let’s go, these guys aren’t going to stop coming.”

Into the entryway they went, finding a break-away and turning quickly to lose some of their Pelderam pursuers. Flendria covered their escape as she rained arrows down from behind.

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Another square soon followed, ending their path into a split both east and west. Centered there though resided a brigade of Pelderam Paladins, locked in combat with one of greenish hue.

“Nethanial! Chandis!” Velchimar cried out to the sight of his lost companions.

In entering this battle, the blue brought a squad of Pelderam soldiers with them. They turned once more to resist their pursuers.

Three slices to the nearest paladin, his quiver retaining javelins sent unto the lone Letrasian group. A parry though, caught off guard but not retained, the paladin took a gallop, but the prince was ready. His blade has grown much stronger since the last time he fought a knight of this degree. Matching the blade, Velchimar took the opportunity to spin and swing again as the paladin was departing, getting him in the back and sending his horse reeling. This caught the attention of the other three, their figures turning from the combat with Nethanial to take eye of these newcomers. An axe took to the farthest; Lone Oak placing his mark as the paladin barely had a moment to deflect the powerful blow.

“What is this!?”

Their voices sounded in alarm, Flendria sending out two arrows, one deflected, the other making its mark.

“Prince Velchimar? It is, Prince Velchimar!” Chandis exclaims, drawing the green paladin with her. Nethanial seen battered but not shaken, his sword hand holding fast against his adversary for who knows how long. Another shot, Velchimar distracted the paladin in aid, allowing the sniper a final shot that ended her foe. As Lone Oak dueled with his own Eleazar dispatched the center.

“Don’t you know when to give up Fotican? Your nation is ours!” the paladin, his armor more garnished above those serving beside him towered high amidst the blue swordsman.

“We do not give up so easily as you might think. Pelderam will never have Fotica.”

“Empty words, from a nation of merchants. Fotica will fall and your theatrics with it!” A gallop, the paladin took his moment, charging with blade ready as Eleazar stood primed. With twin cuts he hit his mark, but a parry, the paladin would not down so easily. A second round, as he came again, the two blades matched once more. The force powerful but the blue of Fotica would not back down. Amidst wild swings from horseback the swordsman countered every move, swinging around to twin hits, then a parry followed by two moves from above. Matched, coming from around, a sweep, countered by a stiff block, Eleazar then turned his blade and slashed twice, blocked as expected but not directly, he slid the blade straight, cutting into the Paladin.

“Ah! How-dare, you!”

“You will not take my nation from me!”

Defeated, the battle won, Velchimar ran quickly to unite with his companions.

.

“Nethanial, Chandis!”

“My lord!”

“Oh my prince, I thought we would never see you again!”

“Are you two well? How badly are you wounded?”

A shrug of exhaustion, Nethanial pretended in honor but his eyes could not mask the truth, “The sight of you has rejuvenated me my lord.”

An inescapable smile to his knight’s patriotism, “It’s good to see you as well, Nethanial.”

“My prince, your wounds!” the cleric’s eyes widened, extending her hands in urgency to the gashes along his body. The Letrasian prince let out a shutter in breath. Such a powerful sensation, so sudden and intense. He felt anew, the magic of healing mystifying indeed to its potency.

“Thank you Chandis, you would not have known how much I needed that,” an exhale to show sincerity, quickly then to concern, “And Melcore? Where is the prince of Debluar?”

“He and the others went ahead to the Frillia Wall, my lord. We had been overwhelmed here. I had figured his force could stand a far better chance against taking back the capitol so I stayed to defend this wing while his group took to pursue the palace.”

“A valiant deed, Nethanial. It is an honor to have you at my side.”

“And I. He agreed only because I would be able to heal him and maintain his health,” butting in, Chandis insisted to not be forgotten.

“Yes, and you too, noble cleric.”

“Ah these must be your companions. Strong courage to stand alone against such a brigade.”

“Ah yes, Nethanial, Chandis, this is Eleazar. He and his companions found me when we got separated. They are heading to the Frillia Wall as well.”

Nods exchanged as the group of blue made their band before the Letrasians.

“I must thank you for looking after our prince, noble swordsman.”

“Hoho, just call me Eleazar. You noble types and your formalities.”

“This is Bale, Lone Oak, and Flendria.”

“How do you do.” A slight curtsy the prince stole a sight from the blue sniper.

“A pleasure,” replied Chandis, “Here, allow me to heal your wounds as a small token of my gratitude,” eagerly, all accepted this as the Letrasian cleric symbolically made peace between the two forces.

“You must be a brave from the land of Hatche. What brings you to the defense of Fotica?”

Nethanial’s words came to what Velchimar himself could not find enough courage to ask.

A bow of head, “News of this war has spanned far across Hephreness, Hatche being among them. The grass carried this message and we listened. I chose to aid where others did not,” strong words but the Letrasian prince knew they hid more than what was spoken.

“There, everyone is healed.”

“Chandis, you are not fatigued?” Velchimar spoke in concern, noticing the cleric did not wane in her aura.

“Much has happened, my prince. I have grown stronger,” the dark eyes of the emerald cleric smile, her craft improving. My how we have all grown through this war thought the noble Letrasian.

“You said there were more of you, prince Letrasia?”

“Yes, Melcore, prince of Debluar had come with us as well; Nethanial said they headed forward to the wall. Which way had they gone exactly?” turning then to his paladin.

A finger extended left, “They took the west exit, it shouldn’t be much further.”

“Then let us be on our way. They are strong but their numbers are few. We have to catch up to them. Eleazar, will you continue to lend us your aid?”

A warm nod, “I am honored to have fought alongside Letrasia in this time of need. Any aid to the reestablishment of our nation is welcome indeed. Your friends will surely be bet with equal measure by the Fotican main army. In kind, I and my group will continue to aid you in our mutual goal, my prince. I do not intend to disband now.”

A smile, “Thank you Eleazar. Indeed, it is an honor for our two nations to be working together. Very well then, let us be off.”

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The open port of Fotica is seen far off below, a nation of the ocean trade. Theirs is a powerful navy, a strength in sea matched only in their strength in mercantile. But of the ocean and not of land, this crucial weakness exploited and as a result, their trade has all but come to a halt. Master had known which nation would make this continent crumble. He had chosen wisely.

Looking at it so, it mattered little to me now. No, an afterthought, instead transfixed in my mind resides her image. That lone image that has haunted my mind since creation. It has always been her, amidst the Letrasian princess, though she holds a piece of my love, it is not my heart. Her image seen in those eyes, experienced in that body. Feelings so real, so similar it was by her unlocking that I now know. And I must share it with her. The words of that assassin play through my memory, luring me here, her last attempt upon manipulating me and I fell so easily as I always have.

And there I understood why. Because of her. It has all been for her.

As white and blue fall before me alike, I do not even notice the carnage dealt by my hand, making it up the steps of palace Fotica itself, two warriors strong and proud stand poised before its entry. Pristine white armor of the Pelderam elite guard they came with blade and shield. Heroes they are dubbed, descend their posts to meet me and I, met them, the black of my art swirling around me, ready. I will see you soon, Lucacia.

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The echoes of battle were upon them, the clash of steel sounding a baritone roar, muffled only by the thickness of the stone within the walls. The quiet before the storm, in the empty hallway they took to nearing the Frillia Wall. Anticipating as best they could, though he knew what lied ahead: the defining battle to this war. Seizing of the Frillia Wall would mark victory or failure. Calm but eager in hot temperament, his mindset determined, led his band of colleagues into the battle that would mark their final actions. His only hope that they had not arrived too late.

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A turn leads them into a merge of an archway, the blaring roar of war lying moments ahead.

What comes before his eyes is far more than what he expected, the Letrasian cleric beside him catching breathe as they entered the battle. Flanked, the entryway was occupied in a skirmish of combatants: white armor interlocked with that of blue. At last, Fotican forces could be seen before the dire state of their nation.

Coming from the center, they enter the fray, By sword, blade, or bow, Velchimar leads his comrades into war, slashing forth as their entry surprises the Pelderam forces before them, giving moments to disperse. Arrows fly to the archers seen afar, a glance revealing just how far the battle spanned, countless hundreds of soldiers in white and blue locked in combat as they clashed from all levels of the open square. The Frillia Wall. Lying majestically before this scene, cast in helpless solitude as those beneath it fought valiantly for its control.

Quickly blue mixes with blue as Flendria clears a path for Bale, her arrows piercing the white armor as his careful strikes moved in stealth to his craft, lending aid to fellow Fotican forces as their swords parry lances.

“You find your colleagues; we will rally our forces. Now go!”

Their parting so sudden, Velchimar knew it was meant to be. Nodding he turns then to his own band of two, Nethanial’s blade swinging as he clears a path, the emerald cleric seen riding at his side, her hands blessed as they mend his wounds from archers afar.

“Come on!” Flendria’s airy voice calls to the Fotican swordsman, quickly as she turns to unleash three arrows, lessening the forces above as Bale held back those that came to silence her.

Split, the Letrasian party makes their way to the wall. Five soldiers from behind, Velchimar covers Nethanial’s flank as the paladin swings below upon ten knights. Arrows, he feels their burn for but a moment, a glance showing Chandis reaching out to him as he is wounded no more.

“Watch out!” he pushes her away as a third is seen flying down moments where her head had been.

Shocked, she is frozen as the horse gallops away, turning the attention of the Letrasian prince forward.

Amidst a band of Pelderam forces, he sees their progress to the Frillia Wall, no time to notice their surroundings; he cuts through three knights, his blade stronger now from Chandis’s aid. Grateful, he now admires his strength as he challenges the next force.

“My prince, watch out!” a parry but not blocked, a white paladin enters the fray, moving past Nethanial’s defense; he jousts for the emerald prince.

Turning quickly to the call of his comrade, with a nimble dodge the paladin’s blade sweeps over his head, barely tracing his hair. A quick recover, the prince steps back, blocking two swings from neighboring knights. Nethanial returns however, cutting them down in preparation for this new adversary.

“Are you ready?”

A smile across Velchimar’s face, he stares fear in the eye, cheating death only a memory to his resolve.

The paladin comes back around and charges. A clash, Nethanial parries as the Letrasian prince jumps up onto the horse, slicing through the paladin. Blood seeps from the direct wound, forcing him into a sharp turn. He dismounts quickly, the paladin no more.

“My prince,” again she is taken aback.

“You asked if I was ready,” a coy smile, instinctively turning his eye to what lied farther out, “Look there!”

Cast in shaded light brought about from the wall’s protection, the brass of Debluar shines before the latter half of the battle below. Locked in combat, four brass paladins reside in view, their noble visages standing tall, keeping the Pelderam fleet at bay as best they could.

“Prince Melcore!”

“Quick, we must lend aid.”

Dashing into the fray, the prince leads his companions, cutting through five more knights as he makes through to the first paladin, catching his surprise as a second enters.

“Melcore!”

“Prince Velchimar!” he calls in his burly voice, hardened by the enduring fight, “So good of you to join us!”

“We were worried. By God, it seems we have made it just in time.”

“You could say that. Tread carefully though, one of those accursed beings is here,” furrowed eyes, in unison, Velchimar aids the brass prince in dispatching four soldiers, taking on two more knights that now take their place.

“A marionette?”

“Yes, twisted creatures, I could almost feel my soul tainted by its presence. Be careful it took time but I believe I managed to fend it off.”

Relief followed loosely by intrigue, as they clashed once more with a band of cavaliers, he couldn’t help but feel that foreboding brought on last time he had come across the creature. Equadriose was it.

“Well, I am glad you managed to overcome it. Last time we skirmished with one of those Marionettes, it was a deadly adversary.”

“Indeed, but I am sure I am not the only one you will be happy to find unharmed, my prince.”

“What do you mean?”

As if honoring his question, the brass smiles victoriously before moving forward to strike. In his stead a clear view to a woman not far, locked in her own battle. Green fumes come from her hands as she motions about, enveloping the white of Pelderam in chocking acid.

“C-Cassandra? Cassandra!” his petrified eyes could not believe themselves. Within reach stood that which he had thought to have lost, his heart turning cold to searing hot as emotion raced its course through him. Surely there stood, his long-lost sister.

Ears perk up as she heard her voice, turning then to its source, she too, stood frozen in a moment, her eyes big as they widened to what they saw.

Then action turned to breath and the Letrasian prince ran. He fought with the fervor of impatience, slicing through three knights along his path to reach her.

A moment in pause, her prayers answered. Upon sight of Debluar’s Melcore she had wished so deeply that her brother be with him, but he had not. Now however, did she realize how wrong of her to defer faith.

“Brother!!” with open arms, she finished off her foes with a volley of green vapor, turning then to meet the Letrasian prince just as he came darting into her.

An embrace, pure joy mixed in the adrenaline of war, he picked her off her feet, “What are you doing here?” he cried, a wet smile of pure miracle.

“I-I came, to aid Fotica,” she breathed, still in shock to see the man before her alive. In witnessing him so she felt elated to happenstance. Cried out at last herself with a stroke of his cheek, touching him and she knew this to be real. Alive, he’s alive!

“My prince watch out!” a turn to his right saw an incoming strike from the thickest of armor, a general. Brandishing a lance, the prince grabbed his sister, shoving her forward as both siblings nearly dodged the blow. Emotion felt but no time for words and the war returned about them. Now together the two Letrasian nobles combined their strength; Velchimar’s blade cutting through while Cassandra’s magic served as a bladed shield to obscure his approach, blinding them in sheens of acidic vapor as the prince held fast his position. Once more though the general swung, his attack menacing as a parry proved too much, sent the prince back.

“Velchimar be careful!”

A moment, he recovered with a follow up attack, striking the armor where he saw an opening, the general not expecting this scrambled to counter, turning to swing his lance and hit Velchimar in the back with the length of its shaft.

A splash of poison and Melcore came into play, the magical acid burning through the armor of the general as the princess attempted to draw his attention. A second thrust of the lance, parried by the blade of Melcore, prince of Debluar. A duel, the two powerful figures fought then, locked in combat as the prince of Debluar aided the Letrasian princess, taking this moment to fire her poison in between strikes.

Careful though were Pelderam’s forces. What Melcore had kept at bay now approached their target, drawing Cassandra’s attention, she sent forth twin clouds of emerald vapor followed by explosions of gaseous fumes. Feld but not hindered, the Pelderam fleet advanced, sending the princess back as she dodged strikes.

“No!” enraged, the Letrasian prince rose from his battered state, taking arms against ten soldiers circling the princess of emerald. But held back, the lance of the general would not let him pass. Melcore exchanged three blows but an encompassing attack drew the general some time to lash forth against the Letrasian prince. Double strike, Nethanial entered the fray, his own battles chasing him but seeing the window of assistance, decided to extend his aid to the brass paladin. The two Letrasians exchanging glances.

“Go, she needs you!”

A nod of gratitude, the prince turned then to his sister. Locked in combat with Pelderam, their numbers gaining on her but she held her own.

Still, enter the fray, the Letrasian prince drew his blade against them, felling two as he took to those flanking her right. A clash, their lances and blades met his own, taking the surprise of those beside him. But as they rose their weapons to strike, that opportunity was not given to them, the emerald princess sending forth a volley of green that halted them in their tracks as her brother was spared.

Soon the siblings gained ground as they returned side to side.

“You’ve gotten stronger.”

“So have you! You’re not the same naive noble you used to be brother.”

“Oh, now am I?”

A jest overwhelmed in emotion, the excitement of battle around them maximized only in their disbelief to see one another. Though it has been almost a month, in war, time seems to last so much longer.

Only white armor stood before him but the presence of knowing his sister was behind him still gave the Letrasian prince a heightened sense of power, his heart fluttering still to his only family returned to him. This time he vowed; would they never be separated again.

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“You know puppet, you have learned the right to my secret. Grovel, like you do at Masters feet.”

“You act as if you do not do the same. Now tell me.”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Haha did you not hear? If it were not for you, I would not have been able to train so, vigorously.”

“You are tricking me.”

“Am I? Stupid, stupid, puppet, you will never know the truth of what you have overlooked.”

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I would see her now. There was no question. As their bodies fell down the steps I entered into the summit of the palace. The sounds of battle were only an echo to the serenity of these walls so high above, it was almost magical how the cool salty breeze seemed peaceful here at the heart of conflict. I entered the tall pillars marking the entryway into the palace, the broad hall of draped blue banners aligning the way unto steps covered by carpet of equal hue.

And there she was.

A black figure covering the porcelain flesh of the one inside it. That of blue sprawled before her upon the stone floor. It was too late, Fotica had been taken. But this meant nothing to me.

She, residing where once the blue queen sat, her image ethereal, vindictive but so frail. She had always been the weakest of us yet here and now it did not seem to have hindered her success.

She sits with bowed head, frozen, almost innocent, until the echo of my footsteps draws her chin forward.

“Lucacia,” I speak first, her name an affectionate murmur that has always been at the tip of my lips, her image haunting me until now. No more, she resided in the flesh.

“E-Equadriose?” her lips opened, “You came.”

“I was told you were here.”

A light snicker comes from her rising bosom, “So it worked.”

“I-.”

“He used me you know. To get you back. I’m only a tool to him. He doesn’t want me, he wants you Equadriose,” and there in her eyes I saw the empty loneliness I had abandoned so many nights ago, “I’m nothing to him.”

“And yet you knew this but continued without letting it be known.”

“I-I had to. For Master. He wishes you returned to him,” justification, to now know the words, I watched as her body language told all the pitiful excuses she held on to, “I will please master, I will return you to him.”

“I’m afraid I cannot let you do that,” so much beauty, it was as if the evil of her tongue was only memory. Why even now she could be manipulating me but no, I knew better. This was her. She had served her purpose in this war. There is no leverage, no mask that is Lucacia now.

“What? You will defy Master? Impossible!” she rose from her stolen throne.

I bow my head, “I do not intend to be returned. I have become myself. I have learned the value of myself.”

She stands confused, “I-I do not understand. That is blasphemy,” a nervous laugh, “Stupid puppet, what nonsense do you intend to speak of now?”

“I’ve learned I have meaning to myself. I am my own person, not a tool of my maker. As a living being, I am what I am, independent.”

A shudder of her head, “No, that is obscure. We were made to please master, to love him and do anything for him. Anything!” her pain I could see the turmoil, the conditioning, what Cassandra struggled so hard to break through.

“No, you are wrong. He, is, wrong. We are not just toys for the pleasure of Master’s wishes. You and I are people, just like them. We feel-.”

“No!” she yelled, anger brewing from clarity made by ignorance, “Stop this nonsense, haha you stupid puppet you think you can trick me so? I am the one superior in manipulation; you cannot possibly comprehend how to undermine me. Master will fix you; he will surely know what to do. And I will be the one to bring you to him,” triumphant, but could not hide the melancholy she knew would be the last thing she was worth to Master.

“I do not intend to go with you Lucacia.”

“Then I will take your body.”

“You intend to battle me?” I smile, I was prepared for this. Visions of how I had killed her time and time again simply so that I could hold her in my arms.

“You seem to not obey what you are told. I will have to force you then. You of all people should be familiar with that,” an attempt at my conscious, nothing. It was so incredible how her words meant nothing when I finally saw her for what she was, for what I had been.

“Very well,” I mark my stance as she does hers, “I will not go easy on you.”

“Hahaha, since when have you ever?” she sneered, a beautiful smile creasing those perfect cheeks. She is perfect.

She wastes no time, sending forth a volley of darkness upon me, much more violent than I had expected. Undeniable, she had learned much since our days of training. I dodge quickly, sending a beam back to which she deflects with a shield.

“Have you never wondered why you deny your own thoughts so much? They are your thoughts, your opinions. You are free to them just as he is upon us.”

“Nonsense, we were made only for Master’s wishes. Our opinions do not matter.”

“Oh but you admit we have one.”

“Damn you!”

Another shot followed by a beam, I envelope it in a vortex, returned in a second wave to her right. She dodges in turn, sending forth twin rings of solid shadow.

“You cannot deny it, your feelings. You have them. Your thoughts apart from thoughts in favor of Master. You think for yourself. You know this!”

“Lies! I was made for Master and my mind serves him, meant to serve him. What I think is irrelevant.”

Another volley, I deflect with a shield, turning it unto the walls, our magic thickens as clouds enter to form fields of chocking darkness. I hear the sounds of battle behind us. We will not be alone forever.

“Stop trying to impose your thoughts upon me, Equadriose, I was made for Master, you were-.”

“Yes, I was and yet I know that is not all my existence can be. I can be more. I can be what it is I think of.”

“Equadriose….n-no stop! Get out of my head! Master wants you back, I will not stop until I have obeyed him!”

A shudder, her magic overflows, sending forth a beam unto the walls, shattering the stone, she then turns it unto dark haze, ensnaring the structure and bringing the wall down entirely. She still could not fully grasp the power of darkness, wielding it wildly and without control.

“Why do you fight it so much? Why have we always fought one another? So manipulative, you would hurt me every time, but you were never anywhere else. You could not be away from me.”

“What?”

“The way you would lock me away in misery, the way you grabbed my hand and took me anywhere, the way you goaded me to hold you, that night you wanted me to love, no, have sex with you. But it wasn’t sex you wanted.”

“Stop! You filthy puppet, you are broken, stop tarnishing me for Master!” another shot, I deflect the power but the flood continues on and engulfs the celling, my own magic interlocked in it as the stone crumbles around us, revealing the edges of the palace and the blue sea against the horizon.

“You did it because you wanted to be with me. I did it because I wanted to be around you. I trained you because I wanted you in my arms, the feeling of you against me. It was the only time I got to feel it. You’re right, I almost climaxed that night.”

“Equadriose, w-what are you saying?”

I stopped my defenses, letting loose the magic about me, my image only its own. I began to walk towards her.

“In every moment of my waking hour I wanted nothing more than to be with you, Lucacia. To hold you, not like how Master did with us, but just to be. I wanted that. No one else told me to. I thought it in my own mind.”

She fired forth blast after blast, the cold of death freely entering my body, crippling my motion but I would not give in. I walked.

“I thought of you, only you.”

So near, she cringed at my presence but she did not move, the black around us raging as it forced its way to the stopping of my body. Cold so very cold. So this is death.

“No! Equadriose, stop it! Get away from me! No, no, I-I don’t, I can’t, I don’t want to, to loose, you-!”

A kiss.

I stopped her by pressing my lips to hers and cupped her head in my hands. So deeply, so passionately, I kissed her like I have never done before. Not unto Master, or Cassandra, I kissed her as I have always wanted to.

Innocently.

And in that kiss was time stopped, the echo of battle and the raging magic around us turned to silence, my passion pacifying hers as the black around us slowly fell, fading as Lucacia melted in my arms. When at last our lips part, I confess what I’ve always wanted to;

“I love you, Lucacia. I’ve always thought you were the most wonderful woman in the world.”

“Equadriose, I-I love, you, too.”

And for once in all my life I smile to her,

Happy.

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He then collapses in her arms, death at last winning its prize as the marionette becomes permanently lifeless. A moment stops her heart, the still body of the one she had admired, longed for, now to only slip from her fingers by her very hands. A cry, it is the only sound that can describe the emotion, she screams to the wrenching of her heart, the sound a trembling utterance in its pain so deep. Tears pour from her eyes in regret, sheer regret.

But time is a lie. It does not stop for this moment. The rage of war growing as it rises the disheveled steps of what remains of palace Fotica.

Tempered armor of blue, brass, and emerald rise to the demand of the source, her swollen eyes powerful in their grief, give not into despair but greedily turn to rage, a power yes, now summoned within her. As prince Velchimar rose to the sight of what resides here, so too is Cassandra given last sight of the one she had given her affection. Too soon for in the blink of this did the black robes grasp what was theirs and flung from the cliff, mad, she held unto his body, the love of her life and in an act to prove the value of its worth, teleported in a haze of black fumes richer and deeper than any other to send them far from this broken place.

[WiiSportsRemote]

am i allowed to comment on this? will this be a actual FE game? also you sure write a lot, i’m jealous lol.

[Equadriose]

Haha thanks? Such is the art of writing books

As for being a game, this is the original story the game story is based on. I have expanded the overall narrative and world building to a higher complexity worthy of international warfare.

Hope you like the story though. I’ve always wanted to bring it to life, even this original. Certain scenes I can see so clearly as in-game cutscenes.