The Wielder of Death Magic

The land and people had strenuously changed over the past month. For once, the peace taken for granted was stolen without much effort. The demi-humans, speaking for all the communities, weren’t as taken back as one might expect. The short-lived peace would run dry eventually. Said doubt remained; with it, they lived abstractly, distant from the potential of being betrayed. There was an example of an inexperienced maiden. A single heart-break and the lass figured all the be the same. Looking down on relationships, spouting self-gratifying nonsense about pain, and not trusting dogs. In reality, the hardened attitude and wounded heart aren’t much to be feeble about. After a while, sadness turns into pride, and it’s said pride that so many confused with sadness. They so easily refute relations to not be in pain. Bracing for impact, or so they say. There and then, similarities of the people and the maiden can be drawn. Not that it would help. A person who finds satisfaction in self-pity, loathing, and depression, will never make an active effort to see the light. In word they might say empty sentences without much substance. The fact became apparent the more time spent at the village. People were in poverty; children were sold to slavery. The parents, cried as they did, were empty. Empty to losing their flesh and blood. Most often than not, to drown the pain of losing one, they made another. A woeful night glimmers by the sweet tender sound of love. A pinkish hue of disgust from Julius.

“Can you believe them?” asked he around a campfire.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Igna. The village was far enough to not be of mention. A short drive through rough terrain led to the border.

“Cousin, wouldn’t it be possible to use the border as a trading route for boats?”

“I don’t think so,” returned he, “-the downward current might prove difficult. The ragged edges and uneven passage deter the strongest of monsters. What does it say about humans then?”

“Don’t know and don’t care,” said Julius readying two bowls, “-about the kids,” a pot bubbled over the open fire with the aroma of some low-level monsters. Igna worked his magic in Dungeon-Style cooking; the basics anyway. A good meal would last them the night.

.....

“Leave them,” said he, “-didn’t the Corporal say they were offerings for a warmonger noble of the holy church’s faction. We’re adventurers, no better way to infiltrate their ranks.”

“Are you honestly saying to sell the kids?”

“Not sell, we’ll gift them. Besides, what good will it do? The parents have given up hope of seeing their children. Famine will strike the village soon; they’ll be sent out to survive. It’s a cruel place. Don’t forget, we have a job to do. This isn’t a vigilante mission.”

“I understand,” he paused, “...”

“Cousin, if something is bothering then say so.”

“Fine. I don’t agree with leaving the innocent to perish for our gain. I see why using them as bait might benefit our efforts. Still, I don’t think it would reflect beneficially on the task ahead.”

“Dear cousin,” the bowl emptied, “-virtuous as they come. Fine, we’ll rescue the children on one condition. The wall must be erected. Time’s 17:30, we’ll work the entire night.”

“About that,” he stood confidently, “-I have an idea.” A plan soon laid on the jeep’s hood, “-I’ll create the wireframe of the wall first. It’ll give us plenty of time. As long as I’ve mapped it mentally, when the trip is over, I’ll only need to activate the spell.”

“And it shall form like an erupting volcano.”

“Questions?”

“About the frame, is it tangible or visible?”

“No,” he smirked, “-tis the advantage of being the heir. Such trivial things aren’t praise-worthy. Let us take the empire by surprise.”

“For someone who refused at first,” grinned Igna, “-I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“Likewise,” he alluded to the prior blood-bath.

Dusk until dawn, the two worked in full. Bypassing the internal reserves aided tremendously in conjuring the wall frame. éclair drove the vehicle, Julius sat cross-legged on the roof with arms stretched out. Igna stood at the back and provided the necessary mana. Bit by bit, the long night flashed in an instant.

Shadows landed on the path ahead, the sun rose behind. For an arduous night, Julius awoke from the half-dazed state. “-Fully refreshed,” said he.

“Speak for yourself,” exclaimed Igna. Monster flesh vaporized, items were dropped, greenish-colored liquid marred the visage. “The monsters are a rowdy bunch at night.”

Leaped to a stumble, “-are you ok?”

“No worries. I’m a nightwalker, sleepless nights are fair game. Creation sure requires a lot of mana.”

“I know,” said he, “-my reserves would be more potent.”

“No need for concern,” he held out a hand, “-we’ve barely made progress. Let’s continue till the village.”

And so, a few days passed till the 7th where they crossed the village. Between hunting, cooking, and creating, their bonds tightened. Along the way, both relinquished the title of cousin, it was simply Julius and Igna. Things were hopeless to the west. Another village was laid to waste, the holy-army marched for Noctis’s Hallow. Any village or town was naught but supplies. Tending for so many forces didn’t aspire confidence.

A castle-town named Hect, controlled by the Blood-king’s Faction, stood peering a violent river. For those in the know, Hect was both an unbreachable fortress as well as a merchant town. The dividing river Cell was one of the longest and widest in Arda. Any attempts in crossing carelessly often ended in tragedy. The viable way was to take Hect’s bridge or move thirty kilometers south to another castle-town.

One could confidently say, Hect’s bridge linked the north and south. Earlier said day, messengers escaped to the castle. “My lord,” said one on his knees, “-intruders have breached the perimeter. A force of 600 is approaching.”

“I see,” wine-glass in hand, “-notify the council. I, count Sebath of Hect, shall defend the town with all my strength,” a nod later, he reappeared atop the castle walls. “How goes it,” he asked the onlookers, tribesmen of various besieged villages.

“My lord,” said one, “-enemies are approaching at a steadfast pace. They have two flame-shooting machines leading the assault.”

“When do you expect them to be here?”

“Three hours I’d guess,” said he.

“Good,” wings sprouted, “-I’ll handle the affair on my term. Close the castle gates, and ensure we have enough men guarding the four cardinal points. Notify me instantly if we’ve been breached.”

“As you order, my lord.” A flap and the slender, pale, black-hair Count flew over yonder, in his stead, sat a cat-shaped ghoul.

Tanks at the front, trucks at the back, and a few jeeps with mounted turrets. A battalion’s worth. “Ready up, men,” headquarters moved to a clearing in the forest. The behemoth’s stationed with sights on the castle. Launching a strike would deter any potential of squabble.

‘Same old, same old,’ hovered Sebath, ‘-they’re always sending their men to die. What’s the purpose of these meaningless battles?’ No moments rest, he slammed onto the first tank, used his blood-arts the slice the other cleanly. Guns fired to no avail; ghouls of the dead rose to turn on one another. “Another battle lost,” said he.

“It would appear so,” retorted the Lieutenant Colonel.

“May you rest well.” A merciful death. Thus were the battles at various locations. Day in and day out, people were sent to their deaths. Not that the army knew any better. The reports always returned the same, a loss after a grievous exchange. Both sides lost quite a lot of fighters. A battle of attrition, the information network was controlled by the nightwalkers. A few had already infiltrated the enemy’s force. Alas, all the intrigue would perish at the arrival of the inquisition. Figures dressed in white and golden outfits.

On the 10th of April, Count Sebath was bested after a hard-fought battle. He managed to kill the entire platoon until a face-to-face with the inquisition. A shy-looking boy with a crest of their gods on his cheeks. Bystanders said they fought on equal terms. An arm lost for the boy whilst the Count lost his life.

‘I was bested!’ the body revived inside the fortress; ‘-they’re using the powers of the vampire slayers.’

Same time, at the neighboring castle-town, deathly screams plagued the day. Gunfire echoed; the grass smeared with the blood of comrades. Onlookers were shot instantly.

“Let me go,” cried a man, “-their blood, let me cleanse them from this earth!”

“Wait a moment,” returned a muscle-man of a specimen, “-orders are to stay put.”

Primed and readied, the signal to assault arrived in stride. “-Attack,” ordered the first lieutenant.

“We’ve made it past the village,” exclaimed Julius. The date showed the 11th of April. Cracked skulls replaced by the chirping of birds. The scent of blood overwhelmed by the flowery grassy aroma. Muffled deathly yelped turned whistling of the wind.

“This is bad,” said Igna, reports came from éclair.

“What’s the matter, you look gloomier than usual?” inquired the prince making breakfast.

“The Holy Army’s called onto their inquisitor. Castle-town Ect was breached and laid to waste.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” said Julius, “-Hect’s there for support.”

“That’s the troubling part,” he watched daringly, “-the count was bested in battle. Hect couldn’t be conquered. They baited us into fortifying the wrong stronghold. Ect fell almost instantly. Two inquisitors led the assault. Those were the last reports from the defenders. No words yet. Any strategic advantage Hect had is gone. A siege without conquest, the strategist is smart.”

“I guess they’ll launch campaigns from Ect.” firmed Julius.

“Yeah, we’re not out of trouble either. More forces are gathering in the capital.”

A morning chill blew, the sun rose – there was much to do. The kids returned home a few days ago. The softhearted Julius created lands of golden-colored wheat to fight famine. The villagers accepted graciously.

Meanwhile, a council of the clan leaders was called. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” said Aurora, “-we’re in a dire situation.” A flashing globe showed the state of war, “-Count Sebath can do only so much to hold off the attack. The enemy’s moving to surround Hect.”

“So what,” argued Alaric of the Onyx’s clan, “-the count should be strong enough to fight.”

“I’m afraid that’s not the truth anymore,” said Serene regretfully, “-the inquisitors are using Vampiric slaying arts. We’re vulnerable.”

“Vampire slayers, they must have made a pact with demons,” proposed Lord Balthazar.

“Not so simple,” added Serene, “-they were blessed by the king himself and granted a crest of power.”

“He’s their source of power?” inquired Julia of the Sabbath clan, “-we should aid a fellow noble.”

“No,” refuted Elvira, “-Sebath is a member of the Blood-King’s clan.” (Blood King’s faction referred to the alliance. Blood King’s clan referred to Elvira’s clan) “-it’s our responsibility. I say this not in disrespect, we’re thin in numbers as is. The inquisitors are an immediate threat. Losing Hect would be our end.”

“The more reason to call levy our forces into a frontal assault,” said Gabrielle of the Lie par le sang clan.

“I kindly oppose said idea,” nodded Serene, “-we’ll lose worthy members for nothing.”

“What then?” fired Alaric, “-are we to stand here and do nothing?”

“Wrong,” smirked Elvira, “-I have someone who’s an army alone. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll reclaim Ect and destroy the others. Losing now will mean defeat.”

“Tis the first I’ve heard of such a man,” added Julia in suspicion.

“Oh, he exists. A certain individual upon whom the god of war watches fondly. A boy birthed from war, bound to war, and will live for war, Igna Haggard.”