The Wielder of Death Magic

The 20th was quite special, a ceremony of honor was organized by the royal family to celebrate distinguished heroes. International treaties, followed by the church, stated after a battle is won and both parties must have a month’s nonaggression pact for soldiers and transition of power. There wasn’t any consequence in breaking those pacts save a reputation catastrophe, thus, general Minerva and Ares signed the non-aggression pact of one month, under conditions that other major battles will not follow standard rules; basically, undermining the pact of non-aggression upon winning a campaign. Hidros accepted said terms on behalf of the Duke of Kreston.

News traveled fast; defeat of their homeland left a sour taste – many looked at the Rosespian castle for answers and held subconscious desire to reach out and help.

Officially, the royal family addressed said situation on the day Vigrant isle was lost, coincidently being the day Igna rescued Saniata, “-to the people of Hidros, many brave soldiers have lost their lives, they fought hard and strived to win for their kingdom. Alas, the effort can only take one so far, we were ill-equipped, Wracian holy army made their conviction heard by their grit and fight. Vigrant archipelago is lost – the church has entered Hidrosian soil; the leader of the revolutionist party has warmly welcomed the holy church into her quarters. We, the crown, have but one thing to say, war is yet to come. In honor of the brave souls who fought thick and thin, a ceremony of honor will be hosted on the 20th,” broadcast went more into detail, forcing the general populous to stop and think. A prominently subtle conclusion was reached; Queen Eia’s responsible for bringing war. Latter of which; is propaganda from the royal court.

Thus arrived on the 20th, local news channels flocked the throne room with cameras, running their cables around the walls and into the vehicle-filled courtyard. King Igna specially ordered for decoration to be mundane, the dress code was black in remembrance of fellow soldiers. During the battle of Vigrant, if not for a desperate attempt by soldiers, there wouldn’t have been anyone to retreat. The greatest act was undoubtedly Saniata’s courage in destroying pinching ships for the Hidros’ naval force to retreat. Number of lives saved was in the thousands – the crowd looked on at the lady in uniform with great interest.

General Minerva gave a speech, speaking on the values of honor, valor, and loyalty, prayers and words of comfort were spoken for the many lives lost. All and all, the throne room wasn’t much of a place for celebrations as grief had taken many of the attending families.

Time eventually arrived for the award ceremony, Igna was vested in a military outfit, as were the officers and attending soldiers, those not from the army, noble families, and such, were dressed in black to show support. “War,” said Igna, taking a pause to gather attention, “-is a cruel affair. No one wins in war. Even the victors, they’re also defeated by the backlash. Yet, we must fight, a show of might and a show of strength – speaking through the number of death and destruction,” methodical speech, clever pauses, and a trancelike cadence made listening all the more pleasing, “-to the dead we honor their lives and to the living, we hope. A ray of hope did shine, focusing on Saniata Haggard, a soldier who put everything on a gamble, a shaky chance at rescuing her comrade,” the fighter in question stepped from the line of soldiers and marched until reaching the king, “-Saniata Haggard, you’ve proven to be courageous beyond words, showed grit and perseverance against overwhelming odds and stand before us as a true hero of war. I’m pleased,” a red pillow holding a medal arrived at hands of the general, “-on behalf of the kingdom, allow me to grant thee the Medal of Ayen,” she gave a salute and stood straight, accepted the medal, and turned to the crowd – soldiers in attendance stomped their foot rhythmically and sang the national anthem.

.....

The Medal of Ayen was named after a legendary commander based in a time when vampires and demi-humans were viewed as monsters, the epoch of the great divide. Ayen was reported as a great man of unparalleled leadership – it is said he once single-handedly fought back against an invading army for the safety of an orphanage. Ayen’s also revered as the greatest swordsman born to human parents – a title which on its own speaks for the skill possessed in the arts of swordsmanship. Ayen’s lives on today as many of his strategies and moves are taught to the royal guard – lineage of Staxius and many before him could be traced to the heroic figure.

The ceremony concluded with a few words from the prime minister, and at 15:00, the castle saw being emptied, and many families made their way to the graveyard. Igna undid his collar and waited on the southward facing balcony. ‘-A month,’ he exhaled, ‘-a month until everything starts again.’

“My king.”

“éclair, come along,” he offered, “-why the glum expression?”

“I thought you’d be angry at me for recruiting Saniata...”

“No, nothing of the sorts, actually, it’s perfect. Everyone’s quickly talking about a princess fighting in the war, it’s good to garner public support. How are Alta and Midne?”

“Midne was grievously injured. Alta’s in Kreston, coordinating defense with the Krestonian army. I must ask about the nature of a certain report...”

“The Vigrant massacre?”

“Precisely.”

“Wasn’t a massacre, more of annihilation, they dared capture my kin, I had to strike and show them the true meaning of fear. éclair,” he turned, “-I must head for Rotherham; I’ve realized something – to rival the sea, Hidros must assert their dominance in the sky.”

Shortly after, king Igna left the castle, leaving éclair slumped over a bar counter in the company of empty beer mugs.

“If it’s not the prime minister,” added a coy Serene, “-why the saddened expression?”

“We lost a battle,” he grunted, “-doesn’t affect us in the least but still, we lost.”

A third presence settled at the bar, “-the usual.”

éclair tilted towards the familiar tone, “-general?” he blinked.

“I see the prime minister’s a gluttonous fiend when alcohol is involved.”

“Haven’t seen anything yet,” winked Serene, “-éclair’s an awesome drunk, just wait and watch,” she giggled.

A quaint little church rested atop a mound in the unregular landscape of Dorchester’s scar, “-bishop Greg,” hailed a lady dressed in a religious robe, “-Angel Angio’s requested an audience.”

“By all means,” said the bishop turning from the altar. A visibly disturbing expression waited, scars along the cheeks and forehead, multiple bandages across the arms and legs, “-bishop,” he trembled, “-we must be cautious of the king...”

“Why is that?

“He controls the power of evil,” cried Angio, “-I saw it, I saw everything, he singlehandedly defeated, the amount of blood, bodies, my friends,” shock sucked the failing sense of self, “-we have to run, we must run, please, run!”

“Angio,” soothed the bishop, “-we have the lord’s prayer and faith. Our cause is just, we will prevail and shine strongly – no one can stop us. Losing a few thousand men is nothing,” the veins bloated, a calming voice hid a dark secret, one of which little knew, “-we shall prevail in the greater picture, trust in the words left by our guardian deity.”

“WE NEED TO LEAVE!”

“Enough!” echoed, “-sister,” he side-glanced, “-end Angio’s life. Let it be known,” he gritted, “-deserters and the unfaithful will perish.” Angio resisted and shouted words of concern, a cacophony that soon exited the church.

“I’m impressed,” said a shadowy figure, “-ordering for the death of Lucifer’s student. How ruthless, bishop.”

“It had to be done,” he replied cordially, “-the weak must be snuffed.”

As the days went by, Rotherham’s city life became a common sight, throwing open the curtains and having the morning sun smacked in the face was one of the lesser pleasures Igna carried, ‘-coffee and a fresh breeze,’ he watched the coming of life of the city, ‘-got a few weeks left until the war begins...’ A flicker caught his eye, a trail in the orange clad morning sky, he narrowed, ‘-what is that?’ more minutes passed, the slower seemed the object – faint trail curved and plummeted towards the south, ‘-wait a damn minute...’ rays of red beamed, crossing in the sky leaving a ball of fire, ‘-was that a fucking missile?’ *Dialing Aunt Elvira.*

“Hello?” she answered in a half-asleep tone.

“Aunt, I need heightened military privileges.”

“Why to ask me,” she yawned, “-I’ve already everything for the King’s watchful gaze. If it’s not too hard, can I go to sleep?”

“Sorry for the bother,” a tap ended the call, he rushed, grabbed a jacket hung off a couch, slipped into shoes, and vaulted into the elevator. Location, the underground parking, the metallic covers parted, he rushed out, scanned for the parking reserved by Phantom, locked onto a sport’s bike, and darted into the main road. Smoke hung, an explosion was farther than first appeared, around the military compound and a few minutes sprint at max speed, ‘-there,’ debris scattered across a wild meadow. Armored trucks and guards were on the scene, ‘-seems they arrived first,’ he pulled onto a dirt patch, unstraddled the bike, and walked straight at a guard who cautiously gripped his rifle, “-access is restricted to the public.”

He took off the helmet and nodded, “-young master,” saluted the guard, “-please,” the partway blocked by security opened. A few vaults over branches and rocks, “-over here,” waved a taller lady of blond hair.

“Clarise.”

“Morning master,” she held a tablet, “-looks like we were attacked by a long-distance missile. You know the implications, yes?”

“Of course, I do, long distance projectiles are a sure way to end a war. Any idea on the origin?”

“We’ve fed the data into the sister system. Ought to wait for the resul-,” she swayed, lost her balance, and fell onto Igna.

“Are you okay?” he held her arms and looked about, the others suffered similar symptoms and dropped, *See the unseen, feel the unfelt, knowledge deep within, awaken for I order so; Eye of Truth.* ‘-mana nausea, it’s a warning. Today’s mana, tomorrow’s chemical. The war has suddenly turned messy,’ he kindly held Clarise to settle and moved at the fragments, ‘-who has technology equal to us?’

“Cobalt Unit,” skipped a joyful face, “-greetings majesty.”

“Marie, why are you here?”

“To examine foreign weaponry. Good thing the AFR responded before we acted. Here’s the report from the sister system,” she handed over her tablet, dawned strange-looking googles, and slipped into the wreckage. ‘-06:25, AFR intercepted a projectile of unknown origin. From the arc and speed, the projectile was most likely fired from Arda.’

‘From Arda?’ he paused, ‘-says here somewhere along the shore, possibly castle Hart.’

“Confusing, isn’t it?”

“How could the projectile come from Arda?”

“Don’t overthink,” she smiled, “-the simplest answer is the easiest.”

“Arda hasn’t changed side – it must have been a misfire. Explains the strange trajectory – the attack wasn’t aimed at anything...”

“Correct, operators must have been novices.”

“If weapons of this caliber were trafficked into Arda, opens Rosespire for ranged attack...”

“Judging by the range, it’s possible.”

“Have the report sent to Rosespire; strengthened our defenses,” he stopped, ‘-what if the missile wasn’t a misfire, what if it was a scare tactic...’

“Majesty?”

“Strengthened our defenses and on second thought, have the reports classified.”