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.

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“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.

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“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?”