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Chapter Text

763, two years after the Battle of Belhalla

Tailtiu's eyes snapped open and she sat up in a flash, a scream already building up in her throat. At the last moment, she noticed little Tine sleeping soundly next to her, seemingly unbothered by the rustle, and caught herself. Tailtiu forced herself to take shallow breaths, sorrow quickly replacing the initial terror of the nightmare.

“Hah…calm down, Tailtiu. It’s just a nightmare…again…” The mage took deep breaths, forcing the piercing images of falling flames and screaming voices away. That was in the past, she told herself. 

“Tailtiu.” A soft voice brought her out of her thoughts, to her relief. “Are you alright? Is it another nightmare?”

Tailtiu sighed, sliding off the bed gently to not wake Tine. It’s not like she would be sleeping easily anytime soon, anyway. “It’s nothing. Is Arthur sleeping well?”

Azelle looked at her with an expression Tailtiu couldn’t decipher through the dark. However, she had a good guess on what he was thinking. “Arthur is fine.” Azelle slowly reassured. “Tailtiu, it's okay to have nightmares.”

Tailtiu flinched, and looked down, giving up. Azelle could always see right through her. She sat down on a nearby chair, smiling bitterly. “It’s stupid. I wasn’t even there to see it, but I still have nightmares about the flames…”

Azelle frowned, sitting down next to her. “It’s not stupid.” He chastised gently, in hushed whispers. “Neither of us were at the battle, Tailtiu. We both agreed when Sigurd suggested it to leave to Silesse. It was the best choice for us, and Arthur and Tine.”

Tailtu looked at Tine, the little bundle of peace and adorableness still snoozing away. Her smile became a little less bitter. “Yeah…Arthur and Tine are just the cutest, don’t you think?”

Azelle smiled too, looking relieved. They sat in silence for a little bit, watching Tine’s toddler chest rise and fall to her breathing. For that little while, the war and trauma they survived didn’t exist. 

However, Tailtiu’s eyes became downcast again. “Azelle…do you ever regret making that choice? You didn’t have to come with me, you know? You still have your brother…”

“Please, Tailtiu. Don’t say that.” Azelle shook his head softly. “I don’t want to imagine a world where I had abandoned you to fight Friege with Sigurd. If I had to choose between you and Arvis, you know I would choose you. We should just move on from the war.”

“How, Azelle?” Tailtiu shot back in an uncharacteristically snappish whisper. “We tried over and over again, but everyone around us has given up on resistance. They think the empire’s so great. The world has already forgotten what he did to achieve that rule!”

Azelle sighed, but he couldn’t disagree. Arvis had always wanted the throne, not to further his own power, he said, but to improve the world. And since he had taken over, it seemed like this was true. Releasing slaves, banishing corrupt officials, arresting vile merchants, and many similar actions were swiftly carried out, earning the support of the people quickly and overwhelmingly.

“Brother wanted to construct a world with equality, where there was no discrimination. Yet he so unfairly stripped away the lives of so many. An ideal world…by framing innocent people?” 

Azelle couldn’t fathom what Arvis was thinking. He had tried multiple times to raise a rebellion, but it never went anywhere. The masses were content with believing Sigurd was a traitor and his death was a victory for Grannvale. The people of Silesse likely considered them criminals, Azelle thought, and it was only by Queen Erinys’ protection that they could live so peacefully.

“Father Claude used to say that if the objective is righteous, but the means are wrong, then failure will most certainly be the result.” Azelle clenched his fist as he thought of Arvis’ hypocrisy. “Brother is wrong. He’s definitely wrong!”

A cry from behind them made both of them jump. Tine, woken by Azelle’s righteous anger, started whining quietly at being woken up, but Azelle knew it would quickly become wailing.

“Oh no!” Tailtiu quickly picked up Tine, rocking her slowly to try and abate the crying.

“Sorry.” Azelle shyly muttered. “I haven’t been thinking about this, since I knew it would just make me angry…”

Tailtiu sighed as Tine quieted. “You miss your brother, don’t you? You want to see him.”

Azelle frowned. “I want to tell him how much he’s messed up if that counts.”

Tailtiu laughed slightly, raising Azelle’s spirits as he smiled inadvertently.

“I’d never thought I’d see moody Azelle,” She teased. “What will I tell Arthur now that his image of his ‘perfect, gentle father’ has been shattered?”

“Oh, stop it.” He couldn’t help but smile, however. “Speaking of Arthur, he’s been doing well in magic. He seems to prefer Wind magic, though, over fire or thunder.”

“A little ironic, eh?” Tailtiu laughed, and as she went back to caring for a cooing Tine, Azelle couldn’t help but think about Tailtiu’s words. You want to see him, don’t you?

It ways days later when he had come to a decision. Sitting at the small table, tapping the surface thoughtfully, he finally mustered up the determination. As Azelle watched Arthur run around with Ced and Tine draw clumsily with Fee, he made up his mind. Tailtiu and Erinys were chatting amiably, laughing about something little Fee had done a few days earlier.

“I’m going to Belhalla.” The words spilled out before he knew it, but Azelle knew he had resolved to do so. “I need to speak to Arvis.”

“What?” Tailtiu blinked in surprise, and Erinys fell silent. “What…what are you saying?”

“I’ve been thinking, Tailtiu. I do want to see Arvis again. I have to talk to him.”

“But…” Tailtiu hesitated, seeing the serious look on the usually shy mage’s face. “What about Tine and Arthur?”

Azelle knew he had to do this. For once in a long time, his resolve was firm. He would go speak to his brother. Everything would become clear, as it would be the people’s choice. “It’s been years since the Battle of Belhalla. Silesse and Grannvale are at peace. I’ll come back, but I know I can’t keep putting this off with Arvis.”

Tailtiu was at a loss for words. Erinys gently placed a hand on her shoulder, before facing Azelle. “It seems this has been weighing on you for some time. Are you sure about this, Azelle?”

He nodded. “It’ll only be for a little while. I’m not planning to stay. For the time being, can I trust you to keep them safe, Erinys?”

The queen of Silesse nodded instantly. “Of course, Azelle. I won’t let any harm come to them while you’re away.” Azelle marveled at the royal authority in her voice, scarcely believing she was still the same girl that was easily moved to tears from what felt like so long ago.

“When…when are you going to leave?” Tailtiu asked hesitantly, and each word was like a stab to the heart. He looked at Arthur and Tine again, oblivious to the struggles of the world and the trauma of the past. A little seed of doubt in his heart took root, and Azelle paused for a moment, frowning. Was this the right choice? 

“I’ll pack today and leave tomorrow.” This had to be the right choice. He could not stand by as Arvis continued to rule from the death of innocents. “It won’t take long, Tailtiu. Maybe a month or two, I swear.”

Tailtiu took a deep breath and nodded. She smiled brightly, but Azelle wondered if it was forced or not. “I understand, Azelle. I trust you.”

Azelle smiled back, emotions and feelings tumbling inside him like Fjalar's holy blood was setting fire through his veins. Arvis…brother. Wait for me.

“Thank you so much for driving those bandits off, miss…” The man paused, realizing he didn’t know her name. 

The orange-haired woman paused, relaxing her grip on the borrowed sword. She opened her mouth, but no answer came out. Cursing herself silently, she realized she didn’t even know her own name, much less where she came from or what happened before. All she knew was that those bandits couldn’t get away with pillaging and looting any longer…

“I…” She hesitated, racking her brain for something, anything. A faint calling of a memory pushed at the edges of her mind, and she strained toward it. You will not die here. I, Eyvel, god of the Yewfelle, will make a geas with you…

“Eyvel.” Where had that come from? She didn’t know, but she had said it anyway. “My name is Eyvel.”

765, four years after the Battle of Belhalla, three years after the fall of Leonster

“What?” Finn stared blankly, immediately tuning out Leif and Nanna’s happy laughs as they played with Asbel. The bishop had kindly allowed them to stay in Hrest, and for now, Finn was sure that Thracia and Friege had no clue of their whereabouts. So why…?

“I have to go back, Finn,” Lachesis repeated, her words stumbling over each other. “Diarmuid…he’s still in Isaach. I haven’t seen him in three years…”

“Lachesis…” Finn wanted to protest, but he had spent enough time with Lachesis to know when she wasn’t going to give up on something…and when she was near tears.

“I miss my son!” Lachesis broke into sobs, and Finn quickly wrapped his arms around her, trying to calm her outburst. “I miss him so much…”

“I know. I understand.” Finn softly replied. He looked over at the children, who had stopped to stare. Lachesis’ chest heaved up and down, but she collected herself quickly, wiping away the tears.

“Mommy? What’s wrong, mommy?” Nanna toddled over and hugged her mother’s leg, eyes wide with worry.

“Nothing dear…” Lachesis quickly patted Nanna on the head, ushering her back to Asbel and Leif.

“I’m going to look for Ares, too.” She added, turning back to Finn. “I don’t know if I have another chance at this before Thracia and the Empire…”

“Yeah.” Finn nodded. The empire was peaceful now and was keeping Thracia and Friege in check, but they had no delusions it would last. Isaach was still under Dozel’s thumb, and recently Grannvale had been making threatening motions toward Silesse as well. This faux peace wouldn’t last long, Finn knew. 

“If you see him first, though, I want you to have Nanna give him this.” She handed him a letter, which he quickly skimmed.

“You wrote this?”

“I don’t know how much Grahnye has told him.” Lachesis shrugged. “I hope he’s still in Thracia, but who knows anymore…”

Finn nodded, but he couldn’t stop himself from trembling as his thoughts went back to the journey that Lachesis would have to take to get to Isaach. “Is this really necessary? The Aed Desert, Lachesis…”

“What can a desert do to me, Finn?” She smiled assuredly. “Nothing will stop me from seeing my son.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He couldn’t help but smile back, yet it faded to concern quickly. “When you make it to Isaach, stay there with Diarmuid. It’s too dangerous to go back and forth…”

“Don’t worry.” Lachesis nodded, but Finn noticed her shoulders shaking slightly. “When it's safe, I'll bring him here and find you again, and our family can finally be… together…again…"

 Finn quickly wrapped his arms around Lachesis, both to comfort her and to muffle her sobs so the kids wouldn't worry. "I'm sorry, I know how hard it is to take care of two young children—"

“We’ll be okay,” Finn promised. “Leif and Nanna are very well-behaved.”

Lachesis giggled through her tears. “I’m sure it’ll only get easier. And I won’t be gone for too long, I hope…”

“We’ll see each other again, I promise.” Finn agreed. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Finn.” Lachesis smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

Eyvel slashed her blade across the last slaver, watching impassively as he fell back lifeless. She turned around quickly to the little girl in chains, realizing with horror that her back was drenched with blood. “Are you alright?”

The girl stared wide-eyed at the woman, but Eyvel could tell the little girl couldn’t stand for much longer in her condition. Carefully squatting down in front of her, Eyvel put away her blade. “What’s your name?”

The girls stared at her distrustfully, but Eyvel heard a small whisper. “Mareeta….Where’s Papa?”

Eyvel felt a sting of empathy, but she wasn’t sure from where. She hesitated as she tried to think of a good response...but how could you tell a child that their parent could be gone forever? “I…I don’t know. I’ll try to find him. What does he look like?”

“Um…he’s tall…” The little girl tried to lift her hands above her head, but they were weighed down by the chains.

“How did you get separated?” 

The little girl swayed from left to right, hesitation clear on her face. “I…I got lost. I was looking for Papa…and then…and then…” She began to sniffle, and her legs suddenly buckled.

Eyvel reached out quickly and caught her, cradling her carefully to not touch her injured back. “And then the bad people found you.” Eyvel finished for her gently.

“Yeah…” Tears began to gather in Mareeta’s little eyes, and Eyvel quickly comforted her.

“They can’t hurt you anymore, okay?” Eyvel reassured her, arms wrapped around the little girl. “I won’t let them. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

A young boy trudged through the Aed Desert alone, heaving a black sword clearly too big for him. Step by step, he stumbled across the sand as the sun shone down harshly on his back. How long had he been walking through this forsaken wasteland? He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going…

“Mother…” The boy, Ares may have teared up if his body had any liquid to spare…

He could still remember the blasts of thunder magic tearing through the estate. How the soldiers had rushed through, dispatching the guards and servants that tried futilely to slow them down. Ares remembered grabbing Mystletainn against his mother’s wishes and dashing into the fray…

He hadn't been strong enough. He couldn’t save Mother…now here he was, alone, always in fear of those soldiers finding him and coming to finish the job…

The whinny of horses and the sound of hoofs galloping startled him, and at first, he wondered if it was some trick his mind was playing with him from the lack of water. Soon, however, it was clear that the sounds were real, and a surge of terror ran through Ares. Forcing his legs to move faster, he stumbled forward, dragging Mystletainn in a line across the sand.

It was no use, however. Horses quickly surrounded him as their riders looked down at him. Ares heaved his sword up, turning round and round to face the strangers. 

“What have we got here?” One of the riders sneered, and Ares looked at him with distaste.

“Some random kid.” Another brigand grunted. “What should we do with him?”

“Looks like a strong, young boy. Could fetch a small price.” Another grinned nastily, and Ares prepared himself for a fight. “What do you think, boss?”

“Let’s not be hasty, now men.” A bearded man rode forward, the others parting for him. He stared down at Ares, and Ares stared back balefully. The man’s gaze went from Ares to the sword and suddenly widened. “Well, I’ll be. That’d be the Demon Sword Mystletainn, isn’t it.” There were a few murmurs around him, and a few gasps as some of the strangers took a closer look at the blade.

Ares didn’t indulge him, raising it higher. “Would you like to find out?” He meant to sound threatening, but with how dry his throat was, it came out as a raspy gasp.

The man grinned, seemingly gratified. “Hah! Hey, get this kid some water.” He dismounted, seemingly unbothered at Ares still holding his sword out. “I’m Javarro, kid. And I have an offer for you.”

767, six years after the Battle of Belhalla

Edain blinked. “Are you sure, Muirne?”

“Yeah! I want to learn to heal just like Lana!” The little dark-haired girl declared. Edain hesitated. Muirne and her brother didn’t have a drop of Holy Blood, she knew that for sure. Could she do it at such an early age despite that? Edain wasn’t sure…but she knew Shannan and Oifey had no qualms teaching Deimne how to fight…

How could she deny her when she was teaching Lana already?

“Alright.” Edain smiled at her adopted daughter. “But you’re going to have to work really hard, okay?”

“Okay!” Muirne jumped and ran off in the other direction. “Lana! Mom agreed to teach me!”

Edain smiled and shook her head at her children’s antics. She had adopted Muirne and Deimne when they were so young, and even though she was caring for so many, she couldn’t imagine a world without them. Edain exited the back door to find Shannan gently sparring with Seliph, who held a wooden sword. 

“Always keep your blade up.” Shannan was saying, jabbing lightly toward the eight-year-old.

“Shannan…” Scathach whined from behind them. “When’s it going to be my turn? I wanna learn Astra!”

“Uh-uh! Shannan going to teach Astra to me first!” Larcei interjected. The twins began bickering again, with Larcei’s hotheaded shouts likely heard by the whole village.

Edain just sighed and let them be, turning her attention to the other side where Oifey was training Diarmuid. “Nicely done, Diarmuid. Keep parrying just like that.”

He paused, turning to the other two boys. “How’s it going with you two?”

“Great!” Lester called back, knocking another arrow and pointing it at their makeshift target of a pile of wood. “I’ve hit way more than Deimne.”

“That’s a lie!” Deimne complained, lowering his bow as he noticed Edain. “Mom, Lester’s teasing me again!”

“That’s enough, both of you. Larcei, Scathach, stop arguing. It’s time for dinner!” Edain called, and the reaction was immediate, with the kids dropping everything and clamoring excitedly. “Go on, set up the table, children.”

They stampeded around her, rushing toward the kitchen, and Edain prayed nothing would be broken when she followed. She looked at Oifey and Shannan, who began cleaning up the tools and items that the children had left in their haste. “How’s their training going?”

“Slow, but there’s no rush,” Shannan answered, picking up a wooden sword. “One day they will need to fight, but that day is hopefully far away.”

“Indeed. The young prince and his friends will surely have much to play in the future…ah, what am I saying.” Oifey shook his head good-naturedly. “Now is not the time to be worrying about the future.”

“Yes, the world is at peace for now.” Edain agreed. “For how long that will stay, I do not know. But we will be ready, and we will make sure the children are ready too.”

“Agreed.” Shannan nodded, before frowning as a crash and shatter sounded inside the house. “Did you hear that, Edain?”

“Oh, dear.” Edain sighed. She wondered what excuse the kids would have this time…

770, nine years after the Battle of Belhalla

Arvis sighed, watching the sunset from the balcony of his royal chambers. Grannvale glowed under the fading twilight, and the emperor admired the scenery. Friege, Edda, Ygnvi, Dozel, Edda, and Velthomer, are all basking and thriving under his rulership. Prejudice, tyranny, and oppression were no more in the Empire. It was an ideal world…

DEIRDRE! Arvis, please! I beg of you!

How…DAMN YOU, ARVIS!

Arvis sighed. That voice would never leave his head, would it? Even though he had already made peace with it…

Right? Arvis thought back to that fateful day, the Battle of Belhalla. More so a massacre, he supposed, than a real battle. Sigurd’s desperate begging and then curses, and the shouts and screams of his army as flames burned away flesh and metal…

It was not a pleasant day, Arvis acknowledged. He couldn’t say he was proud of it, either. However, Sigurd’s death was necessary, for a peaceful world. Sigurd was too naive and short-sighted, invading Verdane and Agustria to save his friends without considering the consequences. Arvis had to get rid of him to end the war. Framing him was the necessary justification to kill him. By slaying the ‘traitor’, Grannvale was appeased, and by killing the invader, so was the rest of Jugdral, preventing follow-up war from Sigurd’s thoughtless actions. 

But perhaps he should have made it quick, impersonal. Instead, he taunted the man and brought out his own wife to drive him to despair. It was partially to confirm Deirdre’s identity, but Arvis didn’t deny that there was guilty satisfaction…

Arvis hummed thoughtfully. Maybe he did have regrets after all. Maybe he should have let the stones stay unturned. However, he had achieved his goals, and the world was at peace…was this not worth a few lives?

He stared out across the land, focusing on the ideal world. There was no point in wondering about this anymore. Arvis, as emperor, had bigger problems than the haunting of past actions. Dozel had taken over Isaach, but King Danann was an incompetent ruler. Arvis had even heard of a small rebellion growing in Isaach. More recently in Silesse, Ygnvi had pressured Arvis to invade. After all, their king was gone and their prince was but a child. Arvis had little choice but to concede, but managed to coerce the Silessian nobles to step down without war, placing Ygnvi as their governors. Last he heard, Queen Erinys and her children had escaped and their whereabouts were unknown.

Arvis felt a headache arise as he thought about Friege. Those nobles were put in charge of both Northern Thracia and Miletos, and every week he received complaints about their ruling. From cruel discrimination, prejudice, and extortion, Arvis was at his wit's end with Friege.

He sighed. The nobles of the dukedoms were old-fashioned, selfish, and didn’t see his vision. Perhaps he should replace them. Ishtar was a fine young lady and Julius’ best friend, and he was sure she would be a great leader. Brian had shown potential too, but Ygnvi only had Scipio, who was an idiotic arrogant prick, in Arvis’ opinion. 

“Fa–Emperor Arvis?” Arvis turned to see red eyes staring back into his own. “The Empress is looking for you.”

“Saias.” Arvis paused. He remembered his shock when he had found out Saias existed, never really thinking twice about that night with Aida, and not sure how to react…and here he was, still not sure how to speak or react to his illegitimate son. “Tell her I’m merely gathering my thoughts and will be right with her.”

Saias nodded but didn’t move immediately. Arvis could see the young boy hesitating on something. “You wish to ask me something? Go on, there’s no need to be shy.”

Saias blinked, a little surprised. Arvis supposed he never really spoke to his son, always paying more attention to Julia and Julius. He just didn’t know how to speak to Saias…As he thought that he chided himself. That was something his father would do. Arvis would never be like his father, ignoring his child. He was his responsibility, illegitimate or not.

The first step, he decided there and then as he looked into the red eyes that so reminded him of happier days, was to build a relationship with his son. No more putting it off. “How are your studies going? I understand you’ve been studying the teachings of Bragi.”

“You…you noticed, father,” Saias said the last word cautiously as if worried Arvis wouldn’t like it. When Arvis didn’t react, he continued nervously. “That was what I wanted to talk to you about. I…I want to be a priest of Bragi.”

Arvis hummed, surprised. Then again, this was one of the very few times he had heard of Saias’ interests or hobbies. “I see. What brought this on?”

“Um…I was talking to Julia and Julius, and they told me I should talk to you…” Saias explained. “Well, Julia suggested, Julius kind of insisted…”

Arvis couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Sounds like them. So, you want to be a priest? That means traveling to Edda, you know. Won’t you miss your siblings?”

“Yeah, but,” Saias took out a book. “I’ve been reading about Bragi’s history. Apparently, he was raised by the followers of Saint Maera…our ancestor, yes?”

“Indeed. I’m surprised you found that out. It’s quite difficult after the early Grannvale Empire got rid of many texts sympathetic to the Loptrians…” Arvis mused. “You wish to learn more about our ancestry?”

“Yes.” Saias resolutely said. “With your permission, Father, I’ll go to Edda and study under the priests.”

“I have no doubt you will become a great priest in no time,” Arvis assured, and he believed it. Saias was a talented young man, and though Julius was the one impressing officials in courts with his young wisdom, Saias was the studious hard worker that Arvis often found reading books in the library with Julia. “They might even send you to the Bragi Tower.”

“So…I take it I have your permission?” Saias asked. 

“Of course you do.” Arvis smiled. 

“Thank you, Father.” Saias smiled widely, raising a hand to his chest. “I won’t disappoint you!”

“I’m sure you won–” Arvis started, noticing something on Saias’ hand that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen before. “Saias…is that the mark of Fjalar?”

“Huh? Oh…yes.” Saias warily looked at his hand. “Is that…bad?”

“No, not at all…” Arvis looked at his own mark. A perfect match. This…this would change things.

778, seventeen years after the Battle of Belhalla

Arvis thundered down the stairs to the underground levels of the palace. Flames burst from his hands and burned in his eyes, and he did nothing to stop them. Valflame by his side, the Flame Emperor stormed into the underground area. 

“Manfroy!” Arvis stormed toward the Archbishop, Valflame at the ready.

“Ah, Emperor.” Manfroy sneered, turning toward the fuming man without a care in the world. “Do you like what I've done with the place?”

Arvis paused taking a moment to observe the area. What was once just catacombs used for storage, had become a full miniature temple to Loptous. Runes and images were carved onto the walls, and a shrine had been erected right wear Manfroy had been standing, guarded by four life-size stone statues in battle poses. “What…?”

“You haven’t come down here in so long, Emperor. You missed all the construction.” Manfroy airily said.

The casual condescension in Manfroy’s voice set Arvis off again. “YOU! How dare you! How dare you give Julius the Book of Loptous!”

Manfroy tilted his head. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“Don’t act like I wouldn’t have noticed! Julius was kind, intelligent, and focused on helping others! What you turned him into…is a monster!” He finished his last words in a spat of fury. He couldn't believe how quickly Julius had changed seemingly instantly and was truly unnerved by the casual cruelty his son suddenly began displaying in his words and expressions...not to mention the lurking aura of darkness that had sprouted out of nowhere. "He attacked Julia!"

“Heh.” Manfroy just sneered. “Julia told you, I assume. No matter…it’s too late.”

“I already told you, Manfroy! I will have no part in a revived Loptrian Empire. I gave you and your people asylum, and stopped your oppression!”

“Ha!” Manfroy spat. “You think a few gifts and cheap offerings can rid the decades of persecution and destruction of our people? You have no idea how much we suffered, despite the blood of Loptous running through your veins! Do you think the people would support you if they knew that?”

Arvis started, his flames faltering. “They…that’s not the point!”

“Isn’t it?” Manfroy scoffed, contempt clear on his face. “You’re versed in burning things, aren’t you? How would you feel if you yourself were burned at the stake, like so many of us ?”

He pulled his low hood down, revealing scars and burns all over his forehead and neck. Arvis started at the gruesome sight of dry red flesh, still not fully healed after all the years.

“The Loptrians will not live in hiding anymore. We will bring back the Loptrian Empire, with your son at the helm!”

“I won’t let that happen,” Arvis growled, opening the Valflame. “Your idea of the Loptrian Empire will destroy everything that is good in the world.”

“It very well might.” Manfroy agreed, turning his back on Arvis without a care in the world. “And to think, you did so much to make Grannvale a peaceful kingdom…I’ll enjoy turning into one that glorifies Loptous with blood and sacrifice.” He laughed, the maniacal sound echoing throughout the underground halls. “And the first thing we have to do to bring darkness is to rid the light of Naga…I’ve entrusted Julius with that.”

Arvis raised a hand, ready to incinerate the Archbishop, who discretely raised his own tome as he looked over his shoulder at the fuming emperor…and Manfroy could tell the exact moment when the realization hit the emperor, as Arvis’ eyes widened and he froze momentarily. “No…!” 

As if on cue, a boom echoed from above, and the room shook. Even faint screams could be heard. “Deirdre…Julia!” Manfroy chuckled evilly, watching as Arvis turned and sprinted for the exit. He looked at the four statues surrounding the shrine, taking note of each of his artworks. It was quite a shame that Arvis didn't recognize them, too tunnel-visioned at the moment he was. Manfroy would have loved to see the look on his face...especially considering this would be his last chance to discover it. “The usurping has begun…my brothers are entering the castle as we speak. Loptous…our great god…our only hope…you will return, as our savior and as their reckoning!”

Arvis sprinted up the stairs, his aging joints protesting against every burst. He ignored the chilling echoes of Manfroy’s evil laughs. “Please, Deirdre…Naga help us…”

Chapter Text

778, seventeen years after the Battle of Belhalla

Seliph ducked into an alleyway, hoping that the Dozel soldiers didn’t see him. It was getting harder and harder to stay hidden nowadays, and Edain had had to move their hideout several times.

It was difficult to live in peace, but they managed anyway. Shannan and Oifey insisted on training them almost every day, however. Seliph wasn’t sure when the war they were preparing for would come, but he was content with waiting for the right moment.

For now, he had to get these supplies back to Edain and the rest of them. He sighed in relief as the soldiers passed by. He rounded the corner and made his way back toward Edain’s home.

Strictly speaking, there was little chance they would recognize him as a rebel, or even the son of Sigurd the ‘traitor’, but it was better to be safe than sorry. As he weaved through the lines of citizens, he kept an eye out for more soldiers. 

As Seliph did so, he caught a glimpse of a green-haired man from the corner of his eye. Pausing, he turned to get a better look. However, the green-haired man quickly disappeared.

Seliph frowned but shook his head and kept moving. 

Yet he kept getting a glimpse of the green hair, and soon, it was clear someone was following Seliph. Why? Were they a spy looking for Prince Shannan? Or him, as the son of Sigurd? Maybe Lady Edain?

He changed his direction, deciding not to head back to the house. He needed to deal with this first. Walking into a different alley, Seliph quickly checked the area, deeming it clear. He gently set the supplies down and took a deep breath. 

“I know you’re following me. Would you like to explain why?” He steadily asked, keeping a hand on the short sword on his belt. 

A short silence and Seliph wondered briefly if he was going crazy. Then, another voice spoke from behind him. “Shannan trained you well, I see. Or was it Oifey?”

“It was both, actually.” Seliph spun around, ready for an attack. Standing in front of him was a man with long green hair, as he had seen. Piercing green eyes met his own, and the casual robes of a bard adorned him.

“I see you do not recognize me. I do suppose you were just a baby at the time…”

“What?” Seliph paused, taken aback. “Who are you?”

“A friend of your father. My name is Lewyn.” The man grinned at him, unbothered by Seliph’s suspicion.

Lewyn… “Wait, King Lewyn? Of Silesse?” Seliph blinked. If this man was speaking the truth, then he indeed was a friend of his father. 

To his surprise, the man sighed at the title. “Just Lewyn is fine…Silesse it but another imperial conquest now, is it not?”

Seliph nodded hesitantly. The news had been unwelcome, as Silesse had been the last country not under the thumb of the empire, but Shannan had confirmed it. If this man really was Lewyn, then…

“Oifey has said a lot about you, you know? He wasn’t sure if you were alive…” Seliph slowly said, not really sure how to proceed with this situation. He didn’t really know Lewyn, but Oifey had spoken of him quite highly. A Major descendant of Ced, with the ability to wield Forseti, one of the strongest individuals of Sigurd’s army before the empire. “Were you in Silesse this whole time?”

“Hah…no.” Lewyn smiled sadly, looking down. “Not since the mess in Belhalla. Here I am, still living a pathetic, shameful life, while my homeland is conquered. At least Mother faced Silesse’s demise, with pride and dignity. Not me, I’m just an idiot bard…”

Seliph wasn’t sure what to say. Oifey had never talked about Lewyn as melodramatic or regretful, painting him more as a mischievous fun-lover. “My apologies, Lord Lewyn…may I ask why you are here now, then?”

“Ah, yes. Heh, look at me, ranting to you. I should be the one apologizing.” Lewyn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Anyways, I’m here to tell you to start your rebellion. There’s no better place than Isaach to start fighting back against the empire. ”

“What?” Seliph was taken aback at his bluntness. “What do you mean? We don’t have many people–I mean, why?”

“Why?” Lewyn raised an eyebrow. “You should know especially. In Grannvale, sure, the empire’s keeping peace, but in places like Silesse, Munster, and here in Isaach, the nobles of Grannvale keep their thumb on the people. There’s no freedom, and they don’t care about the people. It’s oppression, simple as that.”

“Well–” Seliph couldn’t really argue with that. The leadership in Isaach was quite questionable, and the people struggled to go about their day-to-day lives. The soldiers of Dozel really didn’t do anything except throw their weight around every now and then. Danann, regent of Isaach and King of Dozel, had quite a bad reputation too. Seliph didn’t know much about his sons though, except when Larcei would complain at dinner about Iucharba or Iuchar trying to win her affection.

“But, Jugdral is at peace right now.” Seliph weakly protested. The thought of leading a rebellion, and being the head of an army didn’t sit right with him. If he was truly honest with himself, he was a little scared, too. The rest of them, even Shannan and Oifey, expected him to one day lead the rebellion, simply because he was born as the prince of Grannvale. Seliph wasn’t sure he deserved the title of savior or hero just because of that. “There’s no need for a rebellion right now. Shannan says our best move of action is to build up strength and wait for the right moment…”

“Well, that moment isn’t far away at all,” Lewyn replied very seriously. “Even right now, we may be entering a new era. This era of peace will not last much longer, Seliph, if it hasn’t ended already.”

Seliph felt a chill go down his spine. “What do you mean?”

“This world is at a critical turning point, Seliph.” Lewyn continued, a gust of cold wind rushing across them, making Seliph shiver. “The structures of law set by Emperor Arvis as we know it, will not keep the peace any longer.”

Julia watched in shock as Julius collapsed, clutching at his chest as he retched and contorted. He had been so excited to receive the tome, but Julia didn’t think this was supposed to happen. She tried to step forward, perhaps pry that dark book from his hands, but she couldn’t even make herself move. What…what is this pressure?!

Julius shrieked once more, hands never leaving the book despite the pain it seemed to be causing him. Dark magic seemed to surround the prince’s body as the purple book glowed and pulsed.  

“Julius!” Julia cried out, unable to keep watching. She turned to Manfroy, who looked politely concerned. “Manfroy, what’s happening? Do something!”

“Stay calm, Julia.” The Archbishop assured her, but Julia couldn’t help but notice the slight tone of triumph in his voice. “Prince Julius is merely going through the natural transition. He will be fine soon.”

Julius clutched his head, face contorted in pain. “No…no…Loptous…so much…hate…”

He began to quiet down, and Julia could only watch as even the pained murmurs died down. Soon, Julius opened her eyes, fixed on her.

Were her brother’s eyes always so dark?

Julia stared back into her brother’s eyes uneasily, feeling an utter sense of wrongness emitting from Julius. This didn’t feel normal. 

“See?” Manfroy gleefully said, eyes bright with maniacal joy. “He lives again…my lord Loptous!”

Had this always been Manfroy’s plan? Was his very purpose to revive a fallen god? Julius didn’t know. Manfroy had always seemed a little eccentric, but in the end, he was a business partner of his father.

He had heard of the stories of Saint Maera and his Loptrians fighting against King Gair, looking to reform the Loptrian Empire. Manfroy had claimed that despite this, the Loptrians were unfairly oppressed and banished. His father had agreed, so Julius believed it. Manfroy had always sounded so wise, like a grandfatherly old sage. Julius had looked forward to making things better for the Loptrians, and Grannvale as a whole. He himself had their blood running through his veins. It only felt right to Julius.

But how could he agree with that now? This malevolence, this hatred…how could anyone say in good faith that this was meant for good, meant to help people? Manfroy had told him that he could control this power with the dark god’s blood in him, but Julius couldn’t imagine breaking through the suffocating hatred that pierced his mind and swelled from his blood. He had never even realized it was there, but the dark energy was always there, slumbering and waiting for the time to wake.

And now it had awoken, and Julius felt like he was surrounded and bound by liquid darkness, a prisoner in his own body. All he could see was darkness like he was floating in a different universe, far, far away from Grannvale…He could feel Loptous’ presence within him…

Hmm. You are different from the one’s before you. 

Julius flinched at the malevolent voice that seemed to echo in every corner of his skull, giving him an uncomfortable sense of vertigo.

Immature. Soft. This is my vessel? The voice hissed, and Julius shut his eyes tighter. He didn’t want to see that…that monster!

Pathetic. It’s just a dream space, yet you can’t even look at me…this may be even worse than becoming a manakete like the others…

‘Who…who are you?’ Julius trembled, still refusing to look. 

Ha. Are we not one now, child? You know who I am, I know you do. I haven’t degenerated far enough to not realize that.

‘So…the dragonkin is real then…it’s not a myth at all. You’re Loptous…but I—I don’t understand.’ Julius tried to push away the dark webs pressing onto him, to no avail. He curled inward, trying not to feel claustrophobic. ‘ How is this happening? This doesn’t happen with the other Holy Weapons, right?’

That’s because those traitors and cowards simply made a blood pact, a geas. The voice snarled, and Julius withheld a whimper as the feeling of hatred and bloodlust washed over his entirety even stronger than before. I AM BOUND TO YOU, CHILD. WE ARE NOW ONE FLESH AND BLOOD.

‘No! No!’ Julius shook violently. He had felt the dark deity’s motives. He had felt the overwhelming urge to kill, burn, and destroy. ‘ I know what you want to do through me! I won’t let you control me!’

A pause, and Julius started, a little confused. Before he could question it, however, the dragon’s voice returned, malevolence dripping from every syllable. Interesting. You really are different. All the others asked for my power, using it for their own ambition and power…that made them all the easier to manipulate and control. But you…

The uncanny feeling of something looming over him made Julius shiver. It was like a shadow was cast over him, pulling him deeper and deeper into despair. You have recognized that you will not be in control. You are not blinded by greed, despair, and power. 

‘I d–don’t want to hurt anyone…’ Julius pleaded. ‘ I don’t want your power if it comes with all the hatred, the darkness…I just wanted to help people live better lives…’

Hmph. The voice seemed contemplative. Do you really think that emotion is enough? That desire to protect and help…do you actually think that can push back the ANGER and HATRED?!

Julius crumpled again as the force of the words hit him like waves of power. 

As I thought. You lack conviction. It almost sounded like the dragon was disappointed in him, like a teacher to a student. 

‘N–No! I won’t give up!’ Julius felt a sudden rush of righteous spirit. ‘ I’ll die before I give up!’

Really? Loptous snarled in questioning, anger returning to his voice. Do you really have the will to die, the courage to go through with such a thing? Can you do what seventeen emperors before you failed to do?

Don’t make me laugh.

“Aah!” Julius snapped up, finding himself in his bed. “What…”

Was that a dream? Was it all over?

No. He could still feel the lurking hatred and dark viciousness in his mind, trying to rise to the surface. Julius grabbed his head, trying to force it back as he shut his eyes tightly. He would not let the darkness take over him!

“Julius?” A weight next to him distracted him from his focus. “How are you feeling?”

Julius slowly cracked his eyes open, half-expecting to see the shadow of a dark dragon. Instead, he was met with concerned red eyes. “Saias? You’re back from the Bragi Tower?”

His brother looked at him, worry etched clear on his face. It quickly turned to horror as he realized what Julius was still clutching in his hand. “Julius…is that…?”

“Manfroy…Manfroy gave me the Book of Loptous.” Julius admitted. He couldn’t even let go of the dark tome like it was glued to his fingers. “That’s the last thing I remember…”

“That…that deranged bastard!” The young bishop cursed, startling Julius. Saias had always been calm, calculated, and cool under fire. “He’s probably been planning this all along…”

Julius already suspected it, but hearing Saias say it out loud made his stomach sink even lower, as he felt the darkness surround him again. “So that was all he wanted? I was created just to revive an evil god?”

“Julius, don’t say that.” Saias quickly backtracked, realizing the implication. He rubbed at his hand where his mark was, which Julius knew he only did when he was nervous. Julius’ own brand felt like it was on fire, a clear indicator of everything that had passed…even now, he could feel the malevolence seeping out of him at Saias, a full-blooded descendant of Fjalar, Loptous’ sworn enemy. Shivers went down his spine as Saias leaned toward him.

“Urgh!” Julius clutched his forehead, trying to block out the whispers of death and destruction that arose. “Saias…do you know how long I’ve been asleep?”

“...I’m not sure.” Saias cautiously answered, watching Julius carefully. Julius felt sick to his stomach, realizing this was probably how everyone would now look at him…a monster. “I warped here as soon as I could when Father reached out to me. He told me that…that you attacked Julia.”

“What?” Julius blinked in shock. Attacked? ‘What did you do?!’ “Is she alright?!”

No response but the shifting waves of hatred and malice. Julius could feel the dragon’s presence, yet the spite did not overtake him…was he only letting him stay in control? He had no recollection of attacking Julia of the sort…is that what would happen if Loptous fully took control over him?

“Yes. Arvis had to intervene and stop you, though. I assume now he’s going to talk to Manfroy. Hopefully, burn him while he’s at it…” The priest muttered the last part darkly, shocking Julius once again. “I take it you can feel his presence?”

“Loptous, you mean?” Julius nodded shamefully. “It’s like a suffocating ocean of darkness and malice…I feel like I’m drowning…”

Arms suddenly wrapped around him, and Julius realized with a start that his older brother was hugging him. “Don’t worry, brother. By my lord Bragi, I promise I'll find a way to help you. You won’t become the Gair Emperors if I have anything to say about it.”

His tone was resolute like it was when he was coming up with a battle plan. Julius now understood why so many called him the greatest tactician in Jugdral… “Do you have a plan?”

“There’s books and texts all over the continent. I’m sure one of them can help us…” Saias reassured, pulling back from the embrace, but Julius found it hard to believe, especially when he could clearly hear Loptous’ sentiments about that idea…

“Is that really it?” Julius spat out suddenly, eyes shining blood red. “You’re just going to say ‘I have no idea’ and hope it makes me feel better?”

Saias, startled, dropped his arms, looking at Julius with wide eyes. To his credit, Julius was also just as shocked, raising a hand to his mouth, his eyes losing its dark red glow. “I’m… I’m sorry Saias, I don’t know where that came from…”

Saias studied him, his shocked face quickly replaced by cautious curiosity. “Julius…were your eyes always that dark…?”

He reached gently toward his little brother, but Julius flinched, his eyes flaring once more. “Don’t touch me!”

Saias recoiled as Julius swung at him, standing up quickly. Julius halted jerkily, forcing his hand to freeze in place. To his horror, the Book of Loptous had flipped open, ready and waiting to cast its magic…

“No…no!” Julius forced the book shut, ceasing the malicious voices that came when he opened it. They called at him, telling him to use the power, to take what was rightfully his…

It was like the souls of the seventeen Gairs still lived on inside that book, and their greed and desire for power were even worse than Loptous…Loptous’ presence was unnerving, unnatural, and suffocating. The voices of the Emperors were more intoxicating, just calling him to give in to the power that was destined by his birthright…

“I’m sorry, brother…” Julius looked down, unable to meet Saias’ eyes.

“There is nothing to apologize for. I’ve heard of the archbishops of Bragi being able to remove curses.” Saias gently told Julius. “That might be able to help this…predicament of yours.”

Julius could only nod as Saias quietly left the room, left with just the presence of the dark dragon god. So…you’ve heard their voices. Tempting, is it not? To let loose and destroy… 

‘No…no…I’ll never…’

So stubborn. Loptous mused, and Julius realized that he was genuinely amused. Perhaps you do have some strength after all.

‘…Who are you, Loptous?’ Julius asked. He had given up trying to block out the dragon’s voice entirely, and curiosity got the better of him. ‘ Are you a dragon? A god? Why are you bound to me, unlike the rest of the dragons?’

What’s this curiosity? Are you not trying to get rid of me, little scion? Loptous snarked. Julius, a little irritated, snapped back at the dragon in his mind.

‘You’ve made it very clear that that’s impossible.’ Julius thought harshly. ‘And since you refuse to shut up, I have no choice but to talk to you.

Watch your tone, little prince. Loptous hissed, and Julius winced as the pounding anger made him shiver. Loptous was just full of hate and malice that any attempt to break through made his head spin. I am the Earth Dragon Loptous, and you are but my vessel. 

‘...So you are a dragon? How does a dragon possess a person?’

Us dragons are gods to you pathetic humans, but even we have our limits. Loptous sounded very annoyed at having to admit that. When we have lived for thousands of years, our physical bodies begin to degenerate, leaving us mindless creatures. 

‘You possessed the first emperor to avoid that fate?’ Julius wondered. 

Precisely. It was better than reducing myself to a human form, locking my power away in a stone. The fool had no idea what he was asking for, so blinded by his lust for power. Julius couldn’t help but agree after having a taste of the single-minded thoughts of the emperors. I placed my power in his blood, and my essence in the Book of Loptous. Once he came in contact with the Book, it was simple to take over.

‘Your essence is in the Book of Loptous itself?’ Julius started at the realization. All the Holy Weapons contained the power of the dragon-gods, according to legend, but having the essence of the dragon itself…if he could get rid of the Book, did that mean Loptous’ essence would be rid too?

Cease your foolishness, boy! 

‘Urgh!’ Julius flinched as a wave of anger washed over him.

Do you think that no one has tried such a thing? I can control your every action, and every action you take is by my mercy. You could not even attempt to destroy the book, let alone go through with it. Loptous’ voice rose even louder, as his anger and hatred exploded at his next words. If the Holy Weapons of those traitorous dragons were thought to be invincible, what makes you think MY ESSENCE would be weaker than the ones of those cowards!?

Julius could only cower on his bed, pressing his ears with his hands and waiting for the raging monologue to end. He trembled as unimaginable anger and hatred were turned onto him, feeling smaller than an insect. Loptous growls continued, huffing as his presence radiated malevolence and pain. 

Knock-knock-knock. The sound stopped both of them, as Julius realized someone was waiting outside his door. Did Saias come back? Was it father? He shuddered as an uncomfortable prickling feeling crawled up his skin.

What was that feeling? Why did it repulse him so much? “Julius? Are you in there?”

The gentle, kind voice used to always relax him. It was the voice that sang to him when he slept, that comforted him when he was sad, that laughed with him when he was happy. 

However, that voice now struck pain into his heart, and Julius didn’t know why. “Mother–”

“Julius, can we come in?” A second voice sounded from the other side, and Julius froze as he recognized it. His sister, whom he had apparently attacked hours earlier. What was she doing here?

NAGA… Julius stiffened as a surge of pure hate coursed through his blood. He could feel his heart rate quickening, racing, urging him to destroy. The malice was infecting every cell in his body, and Julius saw red as he stared at the door. I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOU!

‘No!’ Julius stopped himself, gripping the Loptous tome tightly, trying with every fiber in his body to not open it. 

“Son? We’re entering,” The door gently swung open to reveal his mother and sister, and for a moment Julius recoiled at the sudden light he felt emitting from them. Was that aura of light always present? He had always felt strange around them, but never thought twice about it. 

The blood of Naga…my very being detests her presence! Loptous roared. 

“Naga…traitor!” Julius hissed through his teeth, realizing with horror that Loptous was quickly overcoming his will. 

“What? Brother, are you alright?” Julia stepped closer, and Julius shot a hand out.

“Don’t! D–don’t come any closer!” He fell to his knees, gasping in effort. Every instinct in his body was telling him to kill. 

I swore it when you betrayed us, and I swear it now, Naga! No descendant of yours will live!

Deirdre approached him, and Julius couldn’t move his lips, couldn’t tell her to stay away. He could only recoil as she reached toward him. Her hands stiffened, perhaps noticing the aura of darkness.

“Oh…no…!” Deirdre’s eyes widened. “Release my son, Loptous!”

“Mother? What’s happening to him?!” Julia stepped back, terror in her voice. Julius realized with despair that dark magic had been gathering around him, like a flame burning to life. He felt his legs moving, and as he rose, Julius could do nothing but struggle in vain and horror.

“Your son is gone!” Julius, no, Loptous roared. “I am the earth dragon, Loptous! Descendants of Naga, you will die here!”

“No!” Julia rushed forward, but Deirdre held her back. “You devil! Julius, please, fight it!”

Fight it? Was that even possible? Loptous didn’t think so…but it didn’t matter what Loptous thought! He wouldn’t hurt his family! “Gaah…Julia…run!”

Julius staggered, momentarily regaining control. Loptous snarled inside him, enraged at him, at Deirdre and Julia, at everyone and everything. “G-get away!”

He screamed as he felt Loptous forcibly wrench at his mind, like a tug of war over control of his body. Dark magic brimmed at his fingertips, ready to be unleashed. “No..! URAAAGHH!”

Julius collapsed, slamming the Book of Loptous to the ground, and he felt the room shake…or was it just his body? He wasn’t sure, all he could focus on was keeping the ocean of malice at bay. It threatened to break through any second, the hastily built dam cracking from the force of centuries of festering despair and rage. ENOUGH STRUGGLING, YOU PATHETIC INSECT!

“AGH!” Julius felt like he was hit by a mountain, the force slamming into him and leaving him out of breath…and he knew it was over. “No…”

“Brother!” 

“Julia, stay back!” Deirdre shouted, and it was the first time Julius had heard her raise her voice...

Julius watched in his hazy vision, watching as his body rose and reached toward his mother and sister threateningly. He could do nothing about it. Everything felt like a dim dream, surrounded by darkness and fear…

Dark magic surged out from the Book of Loptous, now fully open and radiating evil. A blast of purple darkness flew at the two, as Deirdre took out her own tome and raised a magical barrier of golden light to meet it.

Julius watched in defeat as the explosion rocked the room and building, as smoke and dust covered all he could see.

The innocent prince died that day…and the scion of darkness awoke.

Saias stumbled, managing to catch himself before he could collapse on the floor. The floor shook for a moment longer, before stilling.

Now, Saias was an intelligent man. Some in the empire called him the greatest tactician in Jugdral. With the floor shaking after an unmistakable explosion sounded near the royal chambers, Saias decided it was likely a good idea to change priorities.

Turning away from the path toward the castle library, he briskly headed toward Julius’ room. Did his brother lose control of Loptous? Was this happening already?

As he walked, he began to hear panicked screams, and dread filled his stomach. His pace quickened, and he ran into the great hall of the castle where the voices and footsteps of terrified people echoed from.

He did not see Loptous incarnate in there, nor Julius. Instead, people covered in dark hoods and robes stormed into the hall, dark magic spells thrown left and right. He watched helplessly as a dark spell reduced a servant to ash. Where were the holy guards, the Weissen Ritter? Were they not here yet?

No, this must have been an ambush. A surprise attack, an invasion. The timing was impeccable. No one but the royal family and Manfroy knew of Julius’ new condition…this must have been the Archbishop’s plan. He rushed forward, taking out an Ellight tome. 

“Hah!” He cast the spell at a dark mage attacking a defenseless noble. The beams of light cut through the man, sending him stumbling back with a scream. One more flash, and he fell to the ground dead.

“Bishop Saias!” The man gasped.

Saias didn’t spend any time for chatter. “Find General Aida! The castle is under attack!”

“Ah! Yes sir!” The man ran away, happy to have an excuse to leave. Saias took out a Bolganone tome as several dark bishops turned toward him, evidently noticing his little light show. 

“Ah…This won’t do.” Saias murmured, watching them prepare dark magic. “By the flame that markes my skin, I will see to it that you heathens shall leave this place.”

He raised his hand, letting his brand flare to life. A blast of flame from his tome incinerated one of the mages completely, and Saias quickly moved to the right as a burst of darkness struck where he was standing a moment before.

“For Loptous!”

“For the New Empire!”

Saias narrowed his eyes at the war cries that his enemies let out. So these indeed were Loptrians. Manfroy was absolutely behind this. He wondered where Father was. Had Arvis killed the Archbishop? Or did something else happen?

Either way, his plan was to buy time for the Weissen Ritter to appear and regain control of the castle. Otherwise, judging by the number of Loptrians, Belhalla may fall today.

Saias winced as a dark spell nicked his shoulder, stumbling back and raising a wall of flame from the ground to consume half a dozen assailants. He tuned out their screams as they burned to death. For now, however, this was all going to plan. He turned his eyes to the other mages. “You should retreat. You’ll never defeat me.”

“We will not hide again! The Loptrian Empire will rise!” One shouted back, and the others cried out in agreement. Saias readied himself for an attack, but there was no need.

A fiery meteor descended from behind him, striking the dark mages with a burst of flame. Saias turned away from the searing heat, uncomfortable despite the brand of Fjalar. 

“Good riddance.” Aida closed her Meteor tome, huffing. She walked over to Saias, and gently placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Saias?”

“I’m fine, Mother.” Saias nodded, allowing himself to take a brief respite, giving his mother a quick embrace. He noticed Aida wince slightly, however. “Are you hurt? Where is the rest of the Weissen Ritter?”

“I’ll be fine, Saias.” She assured him. However, a dark look was on her face. “I can’t say the same for the Weissen Ritter, though. They’re all dead.”

“What?!” Saias started. That was unexpected. The Weissen Ritter was made of the finest knights from the entire empire. All dead? “How is that possible?!”

“We were ambushed, and heavily outnumbered,” Aida explained. “As far as I know, I’m the only one who survived.”

“Then–” Saias took a deep breath. This was very bad. If the Weissen Ritter were dead and outnumbered, that could only mean one thing. There was no way that the Loptrians that had resided in Belhalla could have pulled this off alone. Arvis had helped their integration into society, but there were still very few actually around. No, they must have arrived from the Aed Desert, or the Spirit Forest, traveling land and sea just for this. They were on the wrong side of a master plan.

However, Saias knew couldn’t afford to panic. “We have to get out of here then. I think…I think this may not be the worst of what may happen today.”

Saias, for once, had no idea, just how right he was. 

Chapter Text

778, seventeen years after the Battle of Belhalla

Julia couldn’t stop a scream as another spear of dark matter flew at her, only for a screen of shining light to appear, intercepting the blow. Julia watched helplessly as her brother threw attack after attack at them, and Deirdre could do nothing as her shields were continually shattered over and over again. Each time, her mother flinched and stumbled as if it physically hurt her…which it might have. 

Julius roared in hatred, completely covered in a dark aura. Red light shined from his eyes like glistening blood, and the Book of Loptous glowed menacingly in his right hand, eagerly complying with every dark spell and strike. Already the area around them was unrecognizable… were they still in Julius’ room? Or were they somewhere else? Julia couldn’t even tell anymore; everything was rubble and dust.

Julia stood with shaking legs, feeling like she was stuck in the mud. What could she do? Everything in her body was repulsed by the darkness in Julius…but that was her brother! Her twin, the very one that had happily practiced magic with her just a few days ago. Now, that same magic was used with the intent to kill. So what choice did she have?

“Naga…you will not stand in my way once more!” Julius roared, rising into the air, floating like an angel of death. “You, your descendants…! I will kill you here!”

“No!” Julia cried out, unable to keep watching her mother be struck again and again. She couldn’t keep it up much longer. Julia had to help! Her hands trembled as she reached for her Nosferatu tome, but she pushed her fear aside and fired the spell at Julius, ropes of light surging forward and wrapping around his arms. “Julius, please! Stop this!”

Julius’ eyes darted back and forth, switching focus on Julia and Deirdre wildly. Julia shivered as he stared at her with the soulless, dark eyes. In just one glance she could tell there was nothing but hatred and violence in there, nothing more. Where had her brother gone? Who was…this monster?

“Do not DARE to command me, spawn of Naga!” A blast of energy exploded from Julius’ figure, coupled with an appropriate roar that sent tremors through Julia. The light restraints instantly snapped apart and dissipated as Julia stumbled back in shock. “Despite what you may think, I am not your subordinate, nor will I ever be! I AM LOPTOUS, KING OF THE EARTH DRAGONS!”

Deirdre grabbed Julia’s arm and pulled her away, right as a dark blast struck where she was once standing. Julia stumbled into her mother’s arms, Deirdre chanting something lowly under her breath. Julia stared at the remnants of where she was standing, a deep crater carved into the earth like a cracked eggshell. What would have happened if she was standing there? This wasn’t Julius’ power…even though his affinity was for dark magic, he had never used it so dangerously, so destructively. Was this really the dark god, the very same that parents told their children about to scare them into doing good? 

Julius summoned more dark magic in his hand from the evil tome, a threatening mass of shadow ready to obliterate the two. With one more hateful scream, a missile of darkness rushed forward, tearing up the earth beneath it. 

Deirdre finished chanting, raising her shining Aura tome. From the open book burst forth light, falling over Deirdre and Julia. Instantly, the falling light solidified into a glowing protective dome. When the dark attack struck the dome, unlike her other shields, Deirdre’s spell held. Over her pounding heartbeat, Julia heard a tired, relieved sigh from her mother. How long would that last?

“Hah! You cannot escape me!” Julius’ voice screamed out angrily, and soon the dome shook again and again as Julius pummeled it with spell after spell. Julia stumbled back with a small shriek as one flew right at her face, but thankfully the shield repelled it, pulsing with faint light.

“I–is he really him , mother?” Julia breathlessly asked, praying to Naga that the barrier would hold strong. She could scarcely even hear herself over the deafening rumbles as dark energy shook the dome with every hit. “Julius is…Loptous? I don’t understand! How is that possible?!”

“Julia…” Deirdre wiped away at her eyes, and Julia was aware that there were tears in her own as well. “We should have told you and Julius earlier. In our blood…there is something dark slumbering.”

Julia felt her blood run cold at the thought. Something dark in her very blood? As she looked at her mother’s face, she realized Deirdre wasn’t scared. She wasn’t terrified, or angry, despite all the pain she must have been in through defending Julia. “Mother…what’s going on?”

“That…that monster isn’t wrong. His blood runs through our veins, dormant and waiting.” Deirdre confessed, her voice in deep regret. “Julius…his blood has taken over him.”

Julia couldn’t understand what she was hearing. They were descended from Loptous? The dark god of legend, that killed so many in the first holy war, lived on in their blood? “What…? I–I don’t understand…”

“Listen, my dear daughter.” Deirdre’s voice took on a tone of urgency. “We can’t beat him. Not right now. Julius…Julius is not himself. He will kill us. I can’t let that happen.”

Julia blinked in confusion, still trying to process everything. Her eyes followed her mother’s hands, and she realized with a start that Deirdre had taken out a Warp staff. “You’re sending me away?! But…but what about Julius?! You can’t just…”

“I’m sorry.” Deirdre smiled sadly, raising the Warp staff, and Julia couldn’t bring herself to stop her. “You and Julius…his fate…it’s not your fault, Julia. It’s mine, and I must take responsibility. I must repent for my sins…”

“What are you talking about mother?” Julia cried, her whole world falling apart just like their protective dome, cracking under the pressure of Loptous. “What sins?!”

Deirdre’s eyes were staring far away as the Warp staff glowed. “Your father and I committed a foolish act…one that might now doom the world. Oh…my memories…Seliph…”

Before Julia could question her mother, the light barrier fell with a crash, the shining dome shattering into a million pieces and disappearing. With a triumphant yell, Julius rushed forward, a spear of darkness forming in his hand. 

“Mother!” Julia cried, beginning to tug at Deirdre’s hands as tears freely streamed down her face. “You can’t! Don’t do this!”

Despite Julia’s terror, Deirdre looked unconcerned, her back still turned to Julius. She gently took Julia’s hands in hers, stopping her struggle as mother and daughter met eyes. “Julia…I’m sorry you had to take on this burden. You are the only one that can stop Loptous now…”

Clutching the Warp staff close to her chest, Deirdre took off her circlet, her tiara that Julia had always seen adorning her hair. Then gently, Deirdre placed it upon Julia’s own head. “You are my daughter, Julia. Our sins…you must–”

What she said next, Julia never heard. With a deafening roar that drowned out her words, Julius burst forward and skewered Deirdre with the dark spear, staining her dress red instantly. A grim smile painted his face as Julia shrieked in horror, red droplets of blood falling onto her arms, still holding tight to Deirdre’s hands.

Soon, those hands fell limp, and Deirdre collapsed silently toward Julius, who caught her in surprise. Julia could only watch as Deirdre caressed her son’s face with a sad, regretful smile. 

Julius blinked in confusion at Deirdre’s actions. “My son…this is…not your fault…”

The scion of darkness continued staring, completely frozen as dark red eyes stared into light purple. In the back of Julia’s hazy sorrow-tainted mind, she wondered what he was thinking. Deirdre stilled, her hand falling from Julius’ face, and her eyes closed. Julius was silent for a moment, face tight with an unreadable expression. Slowly, he growled lowly, “So…she is dead. Do you feel it, Naga? One more of your vessels destroyed…”

He hummed in sudden surprise, reaching toward his face. To his and Julia’s shock, tears were flowing freely, cascading down Julius’ face like a waterfall. “What..? Tears? Ah. Are you really weeping, little prince? We have more pressing matters…like killing the other spawn of Naga!”

He turned suddenly to Julia but froze for a moment as she made eye contact with her brother. At that moment, Julia couldn’t find the hatred and bloodlust of Loptous. She saw despair and pain etched into Julius’ face, an expression of unimaginable horror, despair, and regret. His teeth clenched together as drops of water streaked all the way from his eyes to his chin, and he exhaled shakily, along with something suspiciously like sobs.

There was no time to dwell on it. The next moment, rage clouded his vision once more and the Book of Loptous flipped open and glowed purple. At Julius’ feet, the Warp staff still at Deirdre’s chest continued to glow and finally escalated into shining light, momentarily drowning Loptous’ darkness. As her brother lunged forward to no avail, Julia felt herself being pulled away to somewhere unknown; her life, her joy, and her sanity, all feeling like they were being left behind.

Arvis clutched the Valflame to his chest tightly, but the heat of the tome did nothing to ebb away the cold feeling of dread. Was that the screams of his people he could hear? Was that the scent of burning flesh he could smell, or did he accidentally light his robes on fire again? As embarrassing as it was when that happened, it honestly felt preferable right now…

As Arvis ran through the great halls of Belhalla, he occasionally passed through a passage or two with rubble and ruins, or even worse, fallen victims. He grimaced as he reached a pile of ash that looked suspiciously like the remnants of a Jormungandr spell.

Arvis could hardly believe the assailants had reached this far already. What were the Weissenritter doing?! Either they were taken heavily by surprise, or the Loptrians far outnumbered what he had expected…

The emperor cursed himself, running around a fallen pillar. He had been too cocky with Manfroy. He should have known the dark bishop was up to no good! Always scheming, planning, and preparing with ulterior motives. And now, the peace he had worked so hard for was crumbling before his very eyes. That damn Loptrian! Had this been his plan all along? 

Ever since Manfroy blackmailed him, threatening to reveal his Loptrian blood to the world, Arvis had known Manfroy had his personal motives, manipulating events in his favor. At the time, they had lined up with Arvis’ plans of becoming emperor, so he hadn’t questioned it. He was the Duke of Velthome, then Emperor of Grannvale!! What could Manfroy do if Arvis kept him in check? Oh, how foolish that thinking was…

Now, Arvis didn’t even know how far Manfroy’s manipulation had spread. The underground temple wasn’t the only thing Manfroy had hidden from him, that was for sure. There were many unanswered questions during the war of Isaac and Sigurd’s campaign; were they all because of Manfroy? How deep did his control go? The sudden Verdane invasion, the death of Imuka of Agustria, even the Aed Massacre, Arvis would bet a lot that Manfroy and his cult were behind much of it. Maybe even Deirdre and his…

No. He refused to go down that line of thought. That was for Arvis and his wife to discuss…he just had been putting it off for the time being out of fear. Now, Arvis wondered if he would even get the chance…

A group of dark-robed mages ran out ahead of him, shouting something incoherent. Arvis didn’t recognize any of them as the few Loptrians he’d allow to live in Belhalla as representatives, and he flared in fury. Manfroy had blatantly double-crossed him then, bringing reinforcements behind his back for this very purpose!

With a blast of Valflame, the group of Loptrians were incinerated before they even knew what was happening. Without a sound, their remains blew away in the wind. Arvis took a deep breath, extinguishing the flames along with his wrath. Now was not the time for revenge. He had to focus on finding his family. And likely, getting out of Belhalla alive. And if he understood Manfroy correctly, Julius wasn’t going to be coming with them…

His son, his heir, and his pride and joy. Arvis remembered how he had walked in on Julius staring at the sky, basking in darkness with the Book of Loptous in his hand, Manfroy watching with glee. Julia was up against the wall, gasping in shock and pain. At that moment, Arvis had acted quickly, pulling out a Sleep staff and knocking his son out. Somehow, he knew it wouldn’t be as simple this time.

Arvis was a pragmatist. He didn’t want to think Julius was lost for good, despite the heavy implications from Manfroy. However, for now, Deirdre and Julia were his priority. Julius…I won’t give up on you, son. I swear it.

The emperor stepped out into the Great Hall, scanning the room quickly. It was a mess, with the once pristine awe-inspiring hall now filled with debris and rubble, punctuated by the smell of smoke and blood and the sound of Loptrians shouting and stomping about.

On the other side of the room, two figures launched fire magic at Loptrians, vastly outnumbered but holding their own. Flames burst forth, periodically lighting up the great hall with glowing heat. Arvis quickly summoned his own fire, feeling the heat of the legendary Valfalme spread across the room as he held a great blaze above his head. The heads of Loptrians all turned toward him, and chaos broke forth. 

Arvis didn’t let the clamoring distract him, gathering the blaze into a giant inferno, with an intensity not seen since the Battle of Belhalla…

With a cry of defiance, the emperor let the flames explode and surge toward the invaders, and despite their efforts to counter using their dark magic, it was no use against the power of the legendary holy weapon and the blood of Fjalar. Within seconds, nothing was left but charred robes and melting tomes. 

“F-Father!” Arvis quickly diverted his attention, focusing on his son. His eyes shone with relief and hope, so pure and wholesome that Arvis was struck with a moment of emotion wondering if he could ever see the same emotion in Julius’ eyes again.

Now was not the time to think about that, Arvis reminded himself. He would deal with Julius later. “Saias. Are you alright, son?”

“I’m completely fine, Father.” Saias nodded. “But…I think Julius–”

“Don’t worry about Julius right now,” Arvis instructed. “We need to find your sister and the Empress, and get to safety.”

Arvis turned his attention to the person next to Saias, General Aida. Saias’ mother, standing uncertainly, unsure what to do or say to Arvis, though it wasn’t like Arvis wasn’t struggling with the same issue. As such, not knowing what to do, she fell back onto imperial protocol. “Your Majesty. The Loptrians have almost completely taken the castle. We may have to abandon it completely.”

“I see, General Aida.” Arvis acknowledged, hesitating a little. Should he say something? Ever since the birth of Saias, they had generally skipped around each other. Arvis eventually took it upon himself to raise Saias despite the illegitimacy, but things were simply too awkward between him, Aida, and Deirdre…

Arvis forced himself to recompose. All of this…all of this was his fault, his fault for being manipulated by Manfroy and not dealing with things when he should have. Now he was truly facing the consequences…was this karma? Divine judgment for building up his ideal world on the blood of innocents, despite the peace it brought? “What of the Weissenritter?”

“All dead, sire.” General Aida admitted, looking away. “Those Loptrian dogs ambushed us on our way to the barracks. It was…not a pleasant sight.”

Arvis narrowed his eyes, quieting his conflicting thoughts. “What of the city?”

“Outside the castle seems to be fairly untouched, your Majesty,” Aida answered. “It seems they’ve focused completely on the castle.”

“What do we do?” Saias asked, rubbing his hand in worry. 

“Do you know where Julia and Deirdre are?”

Saias paled. “Last I saw, they were heading toward Julius’ room. But if I’m right, Julius…”

“Enough. It doesn’t matter.” Arvis resolved, clutching the Valflame tightly in worry. He refused to think of the worst, that Juli and Deirdre might have… “We’ll go to them now.”

“On your command.” Aida automatically responded. Saias was more hesitant but nodded. No doubt his son was coming up with tactics on the fly and calculating the measures at stake here. As they ran through the halls together, Arvis found himself recognizing he was likely running right into Manfroy’s trap, at the very least quite predictable in his plan.

However, just like every time Manfroy manipulated, influenced, and blackmailed him, Arvis found he didn’t have a choice. What a fool he was, thinking he was on top of the world, in control! Manfroy’s dream of a revival of the Loptrian Empire had been so obvious. He heard it from the bishop’s own mouth! And yet he still thought he could keep Manfroy in check. 

“Father, wait!”

General Aida reached out at the same time, grabbing the emperor’s arm and shocking him out of his single-minded thoughts. He paused his pace, opening his mouth to demand an explanation. However, his question died in his throat as it became quite clear.

A ring of light shone on the ground in front of them, pulsing brightly rhythmically. “A warp spell?”

“Or rewarp.” Saias gritted his teeth, evidently worrying about what would appear in moments. “It could be anyone, even Loptous…”

Aida was similarly on guard, raising her Meteor tome, ready to fire. The light formed into a figure, and Arvis quickly recognized it before the other two. “Wait!”

The two paused, lowering their tomes slightly. They watched, entranced, as the light faded and the figure stumbled into existence. Arvis rushed forward, catching her as she fell.

“Julia?” Saias murmured in shock, before letting out a long sigh of relief. For a moment, all of Arvis’ worries vanished. His daughter was safe, in his arms.

Only when the beating of his heart quieted down did Arvis realize Julia was crying. Sobs racked through her trembling body as Arvis pulled away, his cloak already damp with tears.

“Julia..? What happened?” Arvis didn’t want to imagine why she was crying so heavily. “Where’s…where’s Deirdre?”

“Mother…she…” Julia cried, clutching her chest, her head low. Arvis realized with a start of despair that adorning her head was a new circlet, a tiara that was a perfect match to his wife’s. 

“Julia,” Arvis spoke again slowly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Where’s Deirdre?”

“Julius…no, Loptous, he called himself…” Julia inhaled shakily, her sob shaking her whole body. Arvis could only wait in horror as she said exactly what he feared to hear. “He attacked us…mother…she sacrificed herself for me…”

“No…” Arvis stumbled back, letting go of Julia in shock. Saias took his place, gently comforting his sister. The mood seemed to drop even further, as it really seemed all was lost. 

“She gave the last of her strength to…to get me to safety. She said—“ Julia hiccuped, another sob at her throat. “Mother said I was the only one who could stop Juliu—Loptous…”

Arvis felt like he was collapsing, just like the entire life he had was falling apart. There was no doubt anymore. Manfroy would use Julius to destroy everything he’d ever loved and destroy any hope of rebuilding. Deirdre was…Deirdre was… “I’m…I’m sorry Julia…”

Saias looked at him questioningly, but Arvis could already see gears turning in his son’s head. Surely, Saias would realize how all this stemmed from Arvis’ ignorance and arrogance, and realize how much of a fool his father was to indulge the Loptrians. Would his son hate him after that, then? 

In just a few moments, Arvis felt not only his kingdom falling, but his family breaking apart as well. The love of his life was murdered, his daughter inconsolable, his son possessed, and a son that may very well hate him by the day’s end…

Arvis gritted his teeth. Deirdre was gone; there was no changing that. But Manfroy wouldn’t be satisfied with just that, he knew. Julia wasn’t safe, nor was any of his family. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to take responsibility. Arvis would not be powerless, no matter how out of control this situation felt! Arvis felt the flames of ambition, the ones that started his whole journey to the emperor, light up once more. He blinked away the tears in his eyes. “Deirdre…Deirdre was right, Julia.”

He stood up straighter, fixing his eyes on the diamond circlet on Julia’s head. Instantly, he understood what his wife had intended. She had accepted her death so she could save her daughter, and find a way to defeat Loptous through her sacrifice. Arvis would not fail her. He coughed, trying to disguise the rising sob, but he managed to speak resolutely. “There is a way to defeat Loptous, and only you can use it, Julia.”

“What?” Julia stared uncomprehendingly, teary eyes wide with confusion. Aida was the same, evidently not understanding from her face, but she said nothing in the somber moment.

It was only Saias that caught on, as expected. “The Book of Naga.” He said, in slight disbelief. “Legend says it’s the only weapon that counters the Book of Loptous…It’s in the castle, isn’t it?”

“Correct. It’s hidden in the treasury, under lock and key. Only one thing can open the lock.” Arvis continued in seriousness, even though all he wanted to do was drop to his knees and weep. He had to stay strong for his survival…for his children. Arvis raised a hand pointing at Julia’s brow. “That circlet Deirdre must have given you…it’s the key to our salvation.”

General Aida was clearly out of her element here, with talk of holy weapons and sacred bonds. However, she maintained composure. “There’s a secret pass toward the treasury. Those Loptrian dogs shouldn’t have found it yet.”

“Then let’s go.” Arvis nodded. Aida pulled out a Flame Sword, putting away Meteor. Saias readied his Ellight tome, and Arvis turned to his daughter, who clearly was just still trying to process everything. “I’m sorry, Julia, but time is short.”

Julia’s eyes scanned her surroundings wildly, and she gulped. “I’ll…I’ll go with you. Mother…mother would want me to.”

Arvis nodded, turning away quickly to hide his tears. Manfroy…Manfroy would pay for this. And Julius…

They ran through the halls once more, Aida leading them down a maze of cross-crossing corridors. Arvis had lived here for years, but even he found himself a little unsure where they were exactly. 

They came up upon the treasury doors, and Arvis reached for the hinges. He threw the doors open and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Right in front of them, two figures talked in dark tones. “What did I tell you, Manfroy?! Every last one of the avatars of Naga, the heirs of Heim, must be purged from existence!”

“I understand, my lord. However, as we are right now, that girl can pose no threat to you as long as we keep the Book from her…” The archbishop tilted his head slightly, and Arvis could see the glimpses of that hateful grin. “Wouldn’t you agree, Arvis?”

Aida hissed as she entered, clutching her sword tightly. “What?! How did they get here already?”

“How foolish.” Julius retorted, and Arvis was taken aback at how…unnatural the hate and malice sounded in tandem with Julius’ usually kind voice. This was not Julius…he was sure of it. This was the Earth Dragon. His blood-red eyes focused on them, and Arvis, the most powerful man in Jugdral, couldn’t help but shiver. “Did you not think this wouldn’t be my priority? The Book of Naga, the accursed relic of my nemesis…”

Julia staggered, refusing to look at her brother. Julius had no such qualms, turning his head toward her. 

“Returning to your demise, spawn of Naga? I would have thought you had learned your lesson when I killed the other one…no matter.” The prince smiled unnaturally widely, and Arvis could have sworn he saw the fangs of a dragon. “Run or hide, I will never stop until you DIE.”

“Julius!” Arvis stepped forward, inconspicuously eyeing the chest in the back of the room. If they could get to that. “Have you no shame! You killed your mother, for Fjalar’s sake! How could you?!”

It was no use, Arvis knew. He couldn’t see Julius in that figure’s eyes. But if he could just appeal to what little humanity was left in that vessel…

For a moment, Arvis had a little hope. He and the others held their breath as Julius stared unflinchingly at his father, breathing in and out slowly. He was silent, and Arvis wondered if he had gotten through with him. “Julius, the Book of Loptous. It’s corrupting you, my son—“

“It seems there’s been a bit of misunderstanding, emperor. ” Manfroy sneered. “This isn’t just a plain corruption. What you are looking at is the incarnation of the dark god himself! Julius is no more!”

Arvis snarled at the archbishop. “You two-faced bastard! I should have never indulged you in your twisted plans!”

“But you did, didn’t you?” Manfroy smiled smugly. “All because you wanted to become emperor, and ‘make the world a better place’. How’s that working for you, I wonder?”

“Don’t let him provoke you, Father,” Saias muttered, readying his spell. “Just one blast…”

“Patience, son,” Arvis murmured back, but he could feel his anger rising, and he knew that was exactly what Manfroy wanted: to see him break and lose his composure. “You took what I intended and twisted it into cruelty, Manfroy.” Arvis retorted. 

“YOU intended to rule the world. I even helped you. It simply aligned with my interests as well.” Manfroy grinned. “You were happy to go along with them, especially when I introduced Deirdre to you—“

“Manfroy.” Arvis lowly growled, Valflame open and ready. “Shut your mouth.”

Manfroy looked from him to Julia and Saias and quickly deduced the situation. “Ah, I see. You haven’t told them, hmm?”

“Father?” Julia cautiously asked. Saias remained quiet, eyes darting back and forth between the archbishop and emperor. Julius merely watched, still unmoving.

“How do you think Julius obtained the holy blood of Loptous? After all, that’s the only way to create a vessel for the dark god.” Manfroy continued. Arvis’ eyes flared, and he raised a hand. 

“Very few have the holy blood of Loptous. Our esteemed emperor of course was one of them. But how could that minor blood be enriched?”

Julia was still confused, eyes wide and unfocused. However, Saias’ growing realization as his face devolved into shock and horror made Arvis’ strength fade, and his arm drooped. “Now, if only we had a family member to share the same holy blood! Then their child would have that holy blood enriched to Major Holy Blood!”

Manfroy locked eyes with each and every one of them, very pleased with the shock and horror displayed in their expressions. He gestured at Julius, standing tall and powerful. “Obviously…it worked. All thanks to you, Emperor Arvis. Your ambition to become emperor gave me the very chance to bring Loptous back into the world…and your paranoia helped me eliminate anyone who could stand in my way!”

“Wait…” Saias’ eyes narrowed, his tactician mind going into overdrive, and Arvis knew he was speaking his thoughts aloud, trying to make sense of the horrific situation. Arvis couldn’t help but admire his son’s composure, especially when his own was crumbling by the second. “Sigurd’s campaign, eighteen years ago. That threw a wrench in your plans, didn’t it, Manfroy? He caused trouble in your operation in Verdane and Agustria, and had you delay your plan of Arvis and Deirdre meeting, since…oh no…”

Manfroy blinked, somewhat taken aback. “Color me impressed. You are correct, Prince Saias!” His smug smile quickly returned. “But of course, that may not be good news, hmm?”

Saias put a hand to his head in complete disbelief. “Deirdre…Deirdre was Sigurd’s long lost wife?”

Julia gasped. Aida looked away from her, though Arvis had no luxury. Julia stared at her father in shock. “You…Father? Why did you…?”

“I…I didn’t know…I loved her…” Even to him, it sounded so pathetic, and Manfroy was quick to continue the verbal assault.

He laughed, and each chortle hit Arvis like a stab to the gut. “Sigurd was naive, yes. He should have realized he was being played at every turn of his campaign. But you, Arvis! You were even more naive than him! You thought you could have your happy ending, despite the blood and treachery you used to ascend to your place! And now, only now do you realize, when the world is falling around you, and you realize everything was in vain!”

Arvis opened his mouth to defend himself but found he had nothing to say. He had killed Sigurd, and for what? By that time, he had already fallen into Manfroy’s trap as soon as he married Deirdre. Even when he found the truth, he refused to believe the red flags. Arvis had considered himself practical and excellent and looking ahead, but his stubbornness and rashness had been more destructive than Sigurd’s ever had been. And all that time, Manfroy knew it. 

“Do you realize now, Arvis! You never had any power! Your empire that you were so proud of was nothing but a cause and step of my plans! Your actions did not save the world, but doomed your very people! Sigurd was never the traitor!” Manfroy’s smile twisted into a truly nasty sneer, as Arvis felt his heart sink deeper and deeper into despair and helplessness. “You were.”

Arvis stumbled, feeling like he was collapsing under guilt. He couldn’t respond to Saias’ concerned cries, Aida’s urgent calls, or even Julia’s desperate tugs on his cloak, afraid to look at them and reveal how helpless and wrong he was. Was it all…worthless? Was it all in vain? His dream of a world without oppression, discrimination, and tyranny…was going to disappear, wasn’t it?

Was it even ever real? He knew it wasn’t right that it was built on the lives of innocent, established by using Sigurd and his allies as traitors, but he had convinced himself it was necessary for the greater good…was Manfroy right? Did Arvis accomplish anything good for Jugdral, in the end? 

Manfroy raised his Fenrir tome, ready to reduce the emperor to ash. Arvis sensed it, but he didn’t move. What was the point? How he had fallen so quickly, from the most powerful man in Jugdral to feeling like the worst human being to ever live…

Arvis and Manfroy both knew the archbishop tugged the strings from the very start…even helping Arvis was just a facade. Could he even have done anything to change it? It was like the cruel tidings of fate strung him, Sigurd, Deirdre, and everyone else into Manfroy’s spider web of darkness and evil, trapping them even before they knew it was there. Through all his efforts, he couldn’t break free of his destiny. The blood of Loptous…it was a poison after all. Perhaps it would be better to just die…

“Julia…Saias…” Arvis choked on his words like the pressure of his sin was crushing his throat.

Manfroy cackled and fired the spell, dozens of shadow flames homing in onto the group. Aida shouted at him, telling him to get up. Julia pleaded him to move. Yet all Arvis could hear was the voices condemning him, telling him it was all his fault…

This was the end…

Until another person rushed forward, and raised a swirling pillar of fire in a second, swallowing all the blasts of darkness. Arvis started, the sudden sharp heat bringing him back into reality. He realized that the Valflame was gone from his hand…

Saias stood in front of him, his arm outstretched and the brand of Fjalar shining as bright as the Valflame in his other hand. Sweat beaded his brow, clearly not used to the strain of a Holy Weapon. “Father. Get up.”

Arvis unsteadily stared at his son, but Saias didn’t turn around, still facing the raging flames. “…you can’t give up now, Father. We…we still need you.”

Arvis gaped in confusion, trying not to sob. “I…I—what do you mean? You heard all he had said…I’m not fit to be your father…you must hate me now that you know this was all my fault…”

“You’re wrong. This wasn’t all your fault,” Julia gently knelt beside her father, a kind smile shining through her pained teary face. “And…I will never hate you, Father.”

Arvis withheld a gasp, as he did not see just his daughter at that moment, but also…

Deirdre…

“Nor will I,” Saias added, and though he did not turn around, Arvis thought his son might have been crying. “And Julius…I’m sure he understands the best that this is not your fault.”

As Arvis stared in shock at his children, he couldn’t help feeling so proud of them, and so disappointed in himself. Why did his children have to suffer for his mistakes?

“If there’s someone to blame, it’s Manfroy for taking advantage of you, Deirdre, and Julius,” Aida added. She gave him a rare smile. “And you know my loyalty for you is unshakable, my lord.”

Arvis sat in disbelief, and couldn’t help but give a half-laugh, half-sob. “I…you’re right, Aida. I…I don’t deserve you all…”

He stood, dusting off his pants. He could not undo what had been done, and the consequences were already tearing their heads and would continue to appear. Arvis wished he could take all the consequences in his children’s stead, but he knew it was out of his hands now. However…he did not intend to do anything about it. “I am not absolved for my sins. I may not have intended this, but I fell into Manfroy’s plan all the same. But…I won’t just take it lying down.”

He then turned to the three others. “Julia, Saias…I’m sorry for bringing it into this mess. If I could, I would take the entire fall for this myself.” Arvis gritted his teeth but softened his expression as he put one hand on Julia’s shoulder, and the other on Saias. “The very least I can do is to give you another chance. I wish we could have gotten the Book of Naga, but I’m sure you two will manage. You are both stronger than you know…”

Julia’s eyes were widening as he talked, and she seemed to realize what he was implying. “Father…are you…?”

Arvis took a deep breath, refusing to let any more weakness show. He had done enough of that already, and in front of his children no less...! “I’m sorry, Julia. I…I don’t think there’s any other choice. Julius wants you specifically…I won’t let that happen as long as I draw breath.”

Julia fell into silent sorrow, and Arvis turned away before she could begin her desperate pleas. Saias, ever the pragmatist, looked down as he approached. There was no need to say more, which Arvis appreciated. It meant that this may very well be the best decision for all of them…even if it meant his fall. Saias held out the Valflame to his father, but Arvis didn’t take it. “Keep it. It’s high time you’ve used it, anyway.”

Julia let out a shrill sound, and even Saias and Aida couldn’t withhold noises of confusion. “But…but how can you fight him without…?”

Arvis merely shook his head. “Without the Book of Naga, there’s little way to defeat Loptous forever. You will need it much more than me.”

“Father—!”

The flames separating them from Julius and Manfroy began to splutter, and Arvis knew they were out of time. “Go! I will hold them off as long as I can. You must live!”

“No!” Julia began to tear up. “You can’t just—you can’t die too!”

“Saias!” Arvis pulled out Bolganone, trying to wipe his eyes without making it obvious. “Protect your sister! Carry on my legacy!”

Arvis turned, refusing to watch Saias bring a tearful Julia out of the room, lest he broke down and lost his will. No, this was the best way. Julia may be inconsolable, but…she had to live. And Arvis would gladly trade his life for hers, no matter the circumstance.

He didn’t see the door close, but a small click and the muffling of Julia’s sobs confirmed it for him. There was no going back now.

“You always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Arvis started, turning around. Aida was still standing there, hand on the doors, keeping them shut. “Aida…? What are you doing—“

“What does it look like I’m doing, my lord?” She smiled at him, and Arvis couldn’t help but wonder what in the world he had done to deserve this last moment of hope. “I told you, my loyalty to you is unshakable. I followed you when you fought your way to the throne, even when everyone else would balk.”

“But…” Arvis stammered, before clearing his throat. “What about Saias?”

Her smile faded, turning into a serious but firm expression. “He knows. He understands.”

“Of course he did…” That boy, now a young man, was always too smart for his own good…just like a young Arvis. “Saias…I’m sure you’ll know what to do…”

“I trust him.” Aida grinned, and Arvis remembered why Saias existed in the first place, even though those feelings had faded long, long ago. “Don’t you?”

The heart touching moment disappeared along with the pillar of fire, as darkness cut through it with ease like a gale to an ember. Julius stood with an outstretched arm, a cold stare leveled at his father. “Done with your goodbyes? It won’t matter; I’ll hunt them down all the same.”

“Not if we can help it.” Aida challenged, pointing her blade at Julius, who stared at it like it was an irritating insect.

“Hah! You are more foolish than I thought, general!” Manfroy smirked, and his smile grew wider as he realized Arvis was no longer holding the Valflame. “You can’t defeat Loptous with just will, even if you had the Valflame! You are powerless here before us, and I can tell just how this is going to end…or can you guess already, emperor Arvis?”

Arvis straightened, a tight expression on his face. He refused to be baited, and stared right into Manfroy’s beady eyes.  “You’re right, Manfroy. I was wrong to listen to you. I was wrong to take the throne by unworthy means, and I was wrong to kill Sigurd and his army. However, I stand by my position. This world needs peace for the people, free of corruption. And that cannot happen with your Loptrian Empire.”

“We will stop you, Manfroy. We will defeat Loptous, as my ancestors did!” Arvis declared,  flames bursting to life and rising high around him. Manfroy opened his mouth, probably to give a snarky reply, but Julius interrupted him with a sharp snarl.

“Enough. I have waited long enough. You will die here, descendant of Fjalar.” Julius growled, levitating into the air with a dark aura. Arvis smiled, not denying the words. It was not his intention to survive here. He and Aida both knew it. Arvis was here to repent of his sins, of all his mistakes and foolish actions. This was where he would die, and he had accepted it, even though his heart ached as he thought of Julia and Saias continuing to grow up without parents...he would miss so much...

However, now was the time to put away those emotions. And as Arvis stared into the soulless eyes of what inhabited his son, his retort was already ready on his lips. Aida was right about his love of dramatics. 

“You underestimate me, dark god.” Arvis raised Bolganone high, as Aida readied to charge. “We won’t go down without a fight.”

Manfroy simply laughed, calling his bluff. Julius’ eyes narrowed to slits, as if trying to vaporize Arvis with his glare alone. “Very. Well.” He hissed, and dark smoke emitted from his mouth as he did so. The Book of Loptous flipped open, and Julius raised both arms. “I will make this quick.”

With a yell, Aida charged, and Arvis summoned a wall of flame. If Julius and Manfroy had their way, Julia would die. This was his last responsibility, to delay this monster long enough.

Right before he attacked, he thought of Azelle, his brother he hadn’t seen for years. He had never agreed with Arvis’ tactics, even though Arvis would give all his reasons and explanations. But...just maybe...would he be proud of his big brother if he knew of this?

Hah…what am I thinking right now? There's only one thing to focus on at the moment...

And as a prince and princess escaped Belhalla, flames clashed with shadow as the city would shake with the force of the battle. An empire would fall that day, and a new one born of darkness and the evil of the past would replace it. A young prince's future was changed forever, and Jugdral would have to change with him.

Mother…Deirdre, my love…wait for me…

Chapter Text

778, two days after the Loptrian Coup

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

Those were the rhythmic thoughts of Saias as he stumbled forward, cursing his clumsiness and fatigue. For some reason, the path that he had often traversed felt so much longer than before. At this point, every step felt like it was setting his lungs on fire. However, he knew he didn’t have any time to waste.

The bishop shifted his arm, trying to alleviate the weight on him, but he quickly paused as he heard a pained sound. 

“It…hurts…” 

“I’m sorry, Julia.” Saias apologized breathlessly, shifting again to put more of Julia’s weight on his shoulders. “I don’t have any more staves to use…”

“It’s…fine. I’ll be okay.” Julia murmured, but Saias knew that was a lie. If they didn’t get medical help for her quickly, Julia would not be fine at all.

They hadn’t escaped Belhalla unscathed. Even with Valflame, Saias struggled to protect both of them. It didn’t help that they had just abandoned Arvis and Aida…

He didn’t want to think how his parents were faring in the depths of the palace, fighting a hopeless fight, just to buy time for him and Julia. 

It didn’t matter anymore. They were dead; Saias was sure of it. His heart was unbelievably heavy, but he couldn’t allow himself to falter. So, Saias pushed the thought out of his mind. He refused to think about what had happened. There would be time to break down and mourn later. Right now, Saias had to focus and fulfill his father’s last order.

Protect your sister! Carry on the legacy!

He was the heir to Fjalar, and the Valflame now. He would not die here, and neither would Julia.

“Rest and recover as much as you can.” Saias gritted through his teeth, lest he gasp in pain and tiredness. “We’ll be there soon.”

“R–really?” Julia whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. Despite the extra weight, Saias didn’t react. He had to be strong for her. Julia was completely inconsolable as they ran from the palace, and her distraction in grief had led to her injury by the Loptrians…

Saias winced in guilt as his eyes flicked toward Julia’s side. An ugly dark mark matted with dried blood covered her hip, a stark contrast with her pale dress. One misjudgment, one hesitation, one distraction, and his sister had almost died.

The bishop clenched his hands tighter, clutching the Valflame tighter, hidden under the covers of his robes. He couldn’t risk anything right now…

His eyes shifted away, and Saias distracted himself from the pain by staring at the scenery, wiping the sweat from his brow as he did. Blooming flowers on trees, flourishing lakes, and lively birds sang in the air. A few villages dotted the distance, and Saias wondered if he could hear the carefree laughs echoing from them, though he couldn’t help but think they were likely hallucinations. He wondered how long they would last that way, with what had just happened.

Things were going to change now, that was inevitable. And right now, Saias and Julia would be one of the main catalysts for that change. However, for that to happen, they needed to survive first…

Saias narrowed his eyes at the distant villages again, wondering if it was worth the risk to turn that way. Maybe they would help them…no. There was just too much risk. Right now, they have to prioritize safety over convenience. There was no telling when the Loptrians and Julius would come for them. If they were caught off guard in a random village…

Did the rest of Grannvale know of the coup yet? Saias couldn’t help but wonder. They had left in such haste and hadn’t stopped for many breaks. There wasn’t even enough time to find a horse…but they were sure to be nearing their destination by now…

Julia groaned quietly in pain again, and Saias felt like he was the one suffering a severe injury with how his heart ached at the sound. “Just a little more…” Saias whispered, even though he had no way of knowing how far they were out…

Julia was only half-conscious, borderline delirious. The only thing keeping her legs shifting forward was Saias practically dragging her, desperate step after step. Every so often he would hear her whisper a sob-like, “Mother….father…”

It felt like ages of stumbling, dragging slow steps forward. Every minute he was tempted to give up and just head to a village. It felt like every five seconds his body cried out to him that they could go no further. Yet still, he kept dragging on. They had to have entered the territory by now.

Finally, the tips of familiar walls rose out from the horizon. Saias would have cried out in relief if he had any breath to spare. 

The castle of Velthomer.

As they approached the great gates of Fjalar, Saias could hear the scrambling above on the walls, the shouts of confusion and urgency. What were they saying? They recognized him, that was for sure…right?

Fortunately, his worries were for naught. Quickly, the gates opened, and Saias trudged in with an imperceptible sigh of relief. An aging man in red robes quickly went out to meet him, flanked by two guards. “Bishop Saias! You look…what happened?!”

So they didn’t know after all. “Bishop Palmark. I’ll explain everything soon. Right now, get Princess Julia medical attention.”

“Ah!” The old bishop started, shifting his attention to the injured princess. “Your Highness! Your side…Get her to the healers, now!”

They obliged, and Julia obediently went with them, though it wasn’t difficult as she still seemed only half-conscious. Saias sent a silent prayer to Bragi that she would recover quickly and efficiently. “And you, er…prince Saias?” 

“No need for that,” Saias chided the guard, accepting a flask of water. After their travel, even such a small privilege felt amazing. “Bishop Palmark, I must speak with you.”

The old bishop blinked, confused. Saias knew he was the perfect person to discuss with. This man was once the head bishop of Chalphy, but situations had moved him to Velthomer. Now, if anyone knew the intricacies in the truth of Sigurd’s tale, it would be him. “We have much to discuss.”

“–ulia? Julia, can you hear me?”

In her foggy distressed mind, Julia struggled to determine if the call was just another voice in her head. However, she forced her eyes to open, looking straight ahead at the cleric.

“Good. We’ve healed you as best as we can, but you should rest for a while.” The healer sighed in relief, lowering her staff. She left the room, and Julia took the opportunity to scan the room. It seemed fairly normal, just another guest room in one of the duchy’s castles…

Saias had brought her to Velthomer? Julia couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. Unlike Saias, who had established his beginnings as bishop here, Julia had only been to Velthomer once or twice. Her father had grown up here, but he always seemed to be stuck in Belhalla, rarely bringing the family to his homeplace…

Father…Julia buried her head in her arms, trying not to cry again. She had been crying so much in such a small window of time, that she wasn’t even sure her body could handle it anymore. 

Father and Mother had told her that she was the only one who could stop Loptous, but Julia just wanted to be selfish right now. She didn’t want any power or responsibility if it meant that her family would be ruined forever…

Mother was dead. Stabbed clean through, dying in her possessed son’s arms…Julia would never forget that scene as long as she lived. It would keep her up at night, she already knew. Touching the circlet on her head, Julia couldn’t stop a few tears from gathering in her eyes.

Father, he was dead as well, probably. Julia had seen her father go from the most powerful man in the world to the lowest humiliated person, and yet he still stood tall in the end. Arvis…he was always the kindest man she ever knew…but it felt like Julia didn’t know as much as she thought about him. 

Her brother Julius. What was happening to him right now? Was he trapped, completely in control of the dark dragon that inhabited his blood? Forced to kill his own parents?

Julia broke down, trying and failing to sob silently. Why had everything fallen so quickly? Why had her world crashed down so fast? Nothing would be the same anymore…

Tap, tap, tap. Boots tapped quietly as another figure entered the room, silently closing the door behind him. Julia didn’t look up, sniffing as she felt the weight appear next to her. “I…Julia.”

Saias sat next to her, falling into silence. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Julia. What was there to say? Where could they even start with all that had happened?

“I…I talked with Bishop Palmark. He used to be the bishop of Chalphy.” Saias uttered slowly. “I talked with him about…about father. And Sigurd.”

Julia didn’t look up, keeping her eyes lowered. She brought her knees to her chest, aware that it made her look like a child, but right now she simply didn’t care. “So it was all true?”

Saias sighed. He seemed reluctant, but not very surprised, like usual. “Sigurd was never a traitor. He invaded Verdane because they attacked first, and his conflict with Agustria was out of self-defense. The capital ordered him to maintain his position, despite knowing it would cause more strife between Grannvale and Agustria…”

“And then mother and father…” Julia gulped. This was a very uncomfortable topic. She didn’t want to think about her parent’s relationship, especially after knowing about her mother’s first husband… “Do you think they both knew?”

“Unlikely.” Saias shook his head, looking years older with how tired he seemed. “They wouldn’t have broken taboo so simply, even with Manfroy’s manipulation. Though it seems they eventually realized…or at least Father must have.”

“Sigurd…was framed during the War of Isaach…” Julia murmured, trying to change the subject. “So everything was a lie? The empire, father…?”

She had been born out of not only technical wedlock but also incest. If Deirdre knew about her past life, and Arvis realized it too…Julia began to realize how naive she had been all this time, while her parents seemed to hide so much of their past. So much of her life was built on a lie…and now she and Julius were suffering for it. Julia buried her head deeper into her arms, muffing her growing sobs. She felt like she didn’t understand anything, didn’t know anything. “Were we even a family?”

“Of course.” Saias firmly said immediately, startling Julia, who lifted her tear-soaked face. “That hasn’t changed at all.”

Julia stared with wide eyes, wishing she could be as sure. Julia wanted to believe it, but how could she believe that with confidence, when it seemed like she knew nothing about her parents? Everything had changed! 

“How can you say that?” Julia didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but she kept going. “It’s not like you would know…”

She winced immediately in regret, not missing the Saias’ flinch at the same time. “I–I mean, um–”

“It’s fine.” Saias dismissed, quickly hiding the hurt in his eyes. The most untouchable tactician in Grannvale, so easily troubled by a few words. “I know I was never as close to father as you were, and compared to you and Julius, I was practically a shadow.”

“That’s not true!” Julia protested, feeling more and more guilty. “We–”

“But doesn’t that simply prove my point?” Saias continued as if she didn’t speak at all. “Father and Empress Deirdre loved you, didn’t they?”

Julia halted, shocked into thoughts. With all that had happened, was that even a certainty anymore? Her birth was built on a facade…mother was forced into it, even. Did Deirdre even want her when she realized her past? And father, did he regret Julia’s existence after finding out who Deirdre was?

Yet…

You are my daughter, Julia. I’m sorry this burden has passed on to you…

I’m sorry, Julia. Julius wants to kill you specifically…I won’t let that happen.

It’s not your fault, Julia.

You must live!

Those words, spoken in the past yet still stinging like fresh wounds, repeated in her mind. Julia couldn’t deny it. “They…they did. But don’t they regret it? I was born because of their mistakes…”

A mistake. Was that all that she was? She and Julius…Julius had already suffered his part, possessed by the evil god. What price would she have to pay? What was her destiny, if Julius had such a terrible one?

Like he could read her mind, Saias pulled her close, hugging her gently. Julia wanted to collapse into his warm, comforting embrace. “You are not a mistake, Julia. Father did not think so, nor did your mother. I don’t, and no one else does either.”

He looked her straight into the eyes, red eyes gleaming with warmth and understanding. “Just as you will never hate them for their mistakes, they would have never regretted you.”

For a long moment, Julia silently sat there, gently embraced by her brother. How did he always know what to say? How did Saias always know everything? She couldn’t help but smile, ever so slightly, despite the pain in her heart. Even when she and Julius were young, it felt like he was always there for them… “S–so….what do we do now, then?”

Saias paused, looking at her kindly. He studied her carefully, perhaps wondering if she was really fine. Fortunately, he decided to change the subject. “We’ll be safe in Velthomer, at least for a while. The rumors of the coup have just reached the dukedoms of Grannvale, but I assume they will spread quickly across the rest of the empire. Sooner or later, Juli–Loptous and his followers will come for us.”

“Ah…” Julia sighed, wiping her eyes. She tried to think clearly, furrowing her brow like she saw Mother do when she was deep in thought… “So…we have to stop him. Julius, I mean.”

“Right. If left unchecked, the Loptrian Empire will rise again, and its atrocities will follow.” Saias grimly agreed. “The coup was just the start. They’ll upend every authority against them, crush any resistance…”

“But we still have to resist, right?” Julia hesitantly asked. The Loptrian Empire was a nightmare of the past. Horror stories of their massacres and atrocities were told to this day, and if they returned, Julia could barely fathom the chaos that would follow. “We can’t just leave them to be…”

Saias nodded, but looked at her quickly, his face shifting to concern. “Are you alright with that? If we resist, we’ll likely have to fight. It’ll be dangerous, especially for you. You’ve already been through so much…”

“I have to.” Julia resolutely said. She remembered her parent’s wishes for her. “Father and mother both said I had to be the one to defeat Loptous. I can’t let them down, Saias.”

Her brother sighed but nodded. “You have the Major Holy Blood of Heim. According to legends, Loptous can only truly be stopped by a descendant of Naga. And you are the last one left…”

Julia nodded, standing to her feet, to Saias’ quiet surprise. She took a deep breath, pushing down the residue sobs. This was her duty, as the princess of Grannvale. Julia wouldn’t continue to sit and cry while the world burned down around her. “I’m no stranger to a fight, brother.”

“It may be more akin to a war,” Saias warned, but he didn’t try to dissuade her further. He stood up and began walking for the door. “However, you are resolute in your decision, and I’m proud of that. You will make a great leader for our rebellion.”

“Huh?” Julia blinked, getting a terrifying vision of her, commanding an army of hundreds, standing at the head of rows of warriors. Hastily, she followed Saias out of the room. “I don’t know about leading…”

Saias just smiled, calmly walking through the halls of Velthomer. “I have already spoken to Bishop Palmark about resistance. I will be making an announcement to the citizens from the castle, asking for arms.”

“So it will be just us?” Julia frowned. Julius was now the emperor of Grannvale…wouldn’t they be sorely outnumbered if they were to just be in Velthomer? “Don’t we have any…allies to call upon?”

“None in the vicinity, I’m afraid.” Saias shook his head. “However, do know that we will not be alone in our endeavor.”

“Hmm? There are others? Already?” Julia couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows. The empire was peaceful, wasn’t it? 

“Not in Grannvale, no,” Saias held up a finger, and Julia realized he was in ‘tactician mode’. “However, the empire is not perfect everywhere. Friege, for one, has ruled harshly in Northern Thracia. I heard Father often complaining about their cruel tactics there…there are rumors that the lost prince of Leonster will one day recapture the territory of the Munster District. More concretely, in Isaach, the exiled prince Shannan has been raising a liberation army discretely. One of their leaders is a man who may very well redefine Jugdral…prince Seliph, son of Sigurd.”

“Son of Sigurd?!” Julia gasped. “That means he’s…”

“Deirdre’s firstborn son, grandson of Prince Kurth, arguable true heir to the Grannvalean throne.” Saias finished for her. “Your brother.”

“Wow…that seems like a lot…”

“For now, they are just small uprisings,” Saias admitted. “The empire was relatively peaceful. However, with this new regime, I predict that they will begin to revolt very soon. We will not be alone, Julia. But for now, we must prepare accordingly.”

Julia nodded, following Saias out to the balcony, looking down from the tower. Bishop Palmark seemed to have gathered the entire populace of Velthomer with how crowded the city was. “Can they even hear you?”

“They may be able to hear you right now,” Saias smirked, and Julia flushed at his tease. They could hear her from here?! “This balcony specifically was designed to have perfect acoustics. If I shout now, the entire city will be able to hear me.”

Indeed, Julia could see many of the people below turn towards her and Saias, whispering and directing their attention to the two. Saias took a deep breath, before giving Julia an encouraging smile.

“Citizens of Velthomer!” Saias proclaimed, loud and clear. Immediately, talking died down as all eyes and ears were fixed on the bishop of flame. “Today, I stand to you not just as a prince of Belhalla, or a bishop of Velthomer, but as a citizen of Grannvale, for there has been a change that will affect us all. Our empire, beacon of peace and justice, is facing a crisis like no other.”

He took a deep breath, letting the words sink in. “It is with great sorrow that I must announce that His Majesty, our esteemed emperor Arvis, has been overthrown and killed in Belhalla, along with the empress Deirdre.”

Instantly, cries of surprise rippled throughout the crowd. Julia grimaced tightly as she could practically feel their horror and shock emanating from below. Arvis was their hometown hero, after all. He had brought Velthomer to great heights after taking over his father, and the people loved and supported him as Emperor.

However, Saias did not seem deterred the slightest and continued with a steady voice, gesturing to Julia as he did. “Fortunately, the royal princess has escaped. However, the culprit of this tragedy is a long-lost evil. One we all know, and one we have foolishly thought was gone. The Loptrians have returned!”

If the pandemonium before was disrupting, this one was pure chaos and panic. Julia could see how quickly they believed, processed, and understood. The Loptrians, spoken as horror stories, were now brought to life in their lives. If that wasn’t cause for panic and fear, what was?

“Indeed, they have already established their evil and greed. The present emperor now is the scion of darkness, already plunging Belhalla to malice and destruction, and the rest of Jugdral will surely follow.”

“But what of Prince Julius!?” Someone in the crowd cried out. “Where is he!?”

Saias’ lips tightened, and Julia gently wrapped an arm around his. He shifted slightly, Julia’s only tell that he noticed. Her older brother was always so stoic and calculating, but even he couldn’t be taking the loss of family well, she knew. “I regret to say that our Crown Prince, Julius, has fallen victim to the malevolent possession of the Loptrian Cult. Their dark god, the evil Loptous, now resides in his body, compelling him to act in evil as the new emperor.”

Saias took a quick breath, and Julia scanned the faces below, examining what their reactions were to this. Possession? The dark god? Even she could scarcely believe it when it first happened. “With his actions, the Loptrians have taken over Belhalla. I regret to say, that the Loptrian Empire is very well being reborn in front of our eyes.”

The crowd muttered in fear and panic, sounding like thousands of bees buzzing below. “They’ll kill us all!”
“That may happen. We’ve all heard the stories. Prince Julius will be forced to kill and destroy, just as he did in the usurpation of Belhalla.” Saias calmly agreed. He diverted his eyes toward Julia, adding, “Rest assured, these treacherous acts were not of his own will. The princess and I are sure of that.” 

“My father, Emperor Arvis, Velthomer’s beloved duke, sacrificed his life for a future hope. And I stand here today to ask you to stand with me under that hope.” Saias quickly reached into his robes, pulling out the Valflame in a flourish, holding it high and proud. “He gave me the Holy Weapon Valflame in his final moments, and instructed me to continue his legacy.”

The Valflame opened and raised a beacon of flames high, spinning a pillar of fire above Saias. The crowd awed into silence and listened intently to Saias’ next words. “My father believed in a peaceful continent. However, because of the cowardly actions of the Loptrians, that ideal is now under threat. The Loptrian Empire will destroy everything that has been built up, rendering peace, hope, and justice to dust. They will attack us, steal and kill our children, and rule with an iron fist. Already they have ensnared our noble Crown Prince into their evil schemes.”

Saias stared hard at the masses, tome held high and proud. “So I ask, in the name of my father, Arvis of Velthomer, will we cower as they come and destroy our livelihoods?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Not like anyone would have given him one. Even Julia found herself staring open-mouthed at her brother, in complete surprise and awe. Who knew he was so charismatic and inspiring? “We are the people of Fjalar, the great mage of flames! As our descendants had the will to fight, so can we! We must carry on the will of the Crusaders, and the will of our emperor! So, I ask again. Will we cower, or will you join me to resist!?”

This time, a reply came in the form of hundreds of voices roaring at once. The sound echoed through the city, passing through every hall, home, and area of Velthomer. Julia blinked in awe, not even sure what to say at the performance. Saias, to his credit, looked very pleased, but he hid it with a cough. “Well, it sounds as if we are all in agreement, don’t you think?”

778, one week after the Loptrian Coup

“Are you quite finished? There are things to be done.”

“Leave me alone already!” 

Julius sat in his room, brow furrowed in concentration. The young, naive prince just a few weeks ago was no more. Julius knew it, Loptous knew it, Manfroy knew it. There was no use in denying it; his actions had already proved that wrong. Mother and father…

“Still mourning?” Loptous’ voice scoffed in his mind but thankfully did not keep pushing. Julius ignored him, pushing the sharp guilt and sorrow out of his mind. He had already cried almost nonstop for days…enough was enough.

Yet even as he thought that, Julius couldn’t help but feel nervous. Was he really that callous to be able to ignore the trauma? Should he still be mourning and be in sorrow?

Loptous’ influence did not extend merely through possession, Julius had learned. Even now, the corruption of Loptous irreversibly grew in his blood, fundamentally changing how he thought. Julius found himself thinking darker, more malevolent thoughts, and it would reflect through his words and actions, to the delight of Manfroy and the uneasiness of Julius.

Sometimes it would take him minutes or even hours to catch himself, realizing that what he had just said and done was evil and malicious…

It had started when Manfroy had explained to Julius the truth of the empire, how Arvis had conspired with multiple noble families and the Loptrians to frame Sigurd, plunge Grannvale into infighting, and take over in the process. Sigurd had never been the traitor, he had been betrayed instead. He killed Sigurd and his allies, even taking his own wife for himself…his mother.

Yet even in the face of such horrific news that upended everything Julius’ life had been built upon, he had simply said, “So, that was how I ended up with the Holy Blood of Loptous…hah. Despite all the chaos, things turned out so…excellently.”

It took Julius a long moment to realize that a long, evil, smirk had grown upon his own face. It took him another moment to realize what he had just said.

“You’ve been meditating for hours now.” The dragon grumbled harshly, echoing through the corners of Julius’ mind, making him flinch. “It won’t stop the influence. Your efforts are pointless!”

Meditating was the only way to feel like Julius still possessed his own mind and thoughts. He could calm himself down and rearrange his thoughts, picking out the ones that were his, and ones that were obviously not. However, every day it became harder to tell which was which.

“I’ve been wondering,” Julius broke momentarily to question the voice, curiosity overtaking reluctance. “That influence that is changing my personality…is it your influence, or the influence of the Gair emperors?”

“You are wondering about the voices of the book.” Loptous snorted angrily, and Julius grimaced as he could feel the dark presence rummaging around in his mind, easily reading his thoughts. How unpleasant. “The first emperor’s ideals were passed through his descendants. Those feelings of greed, apathy, cruel pleasure…that is him. However, the hate, madness, and anger…”

As to demonstrate, Julius felt uncontrollable rage surge through him from the dark presence, and he clutched his chest. This was not the first demonstration, nor would it be the last. The dark dragon was always angry, always hateful, and always focused on revenge. Julius guessed it was because of his degeneration, making it so that the dragon’s insanity could only latch onto one emotion…

“Sounds like you’re saying the Gair emperors were more evil than you.” Julius sarcastically thought, but to his surprise, Loptous did not answer immediately.

“Hmm….to their own kind…perhaps. I care not for humans. They are either insects, tools, or nothing at all to me. However, all the emperors seemed to have an obsession with human suffering…”

Julius, confused, listened intently. He had never heard the dragon so thoughtful, always so full of anger he was. With him stuck in his head, would he actually learn about the dark god’s feelings?

What a ridiculous thought.

But if he was right, then much of his cruelty would come from the emperors’ voices through the Book of Loptous. Loptous didn’t fully possess him often, only when he felt angered enough to do so, such as when in the presence of the Crusader’s blood. That evil, avaricious, cruel longing for power and control was all from the Gairs…

Julius was snapped out of his meditation by a presence entering the room. He looked up to see Manfroy, strutting into the room without a care in the world. Julius frowned, already angered by the perpetually smug look on the Archbishop’s face. 

“Archbishop. I assume you have a good reason for interrupting me, your emperor?” He snarled, and Manfroy stepped back quickly, much to Julius’ satisfaction. If there was one benefit to his personality being corrupted, he could at least intimidate the bastard…

“Of course, your Majesty.” Manfroy nodded, his smugness quickly becoming uneasiness. “I have come to propose a royal gathering.”

You should always try to smile, my son. It makes others feel welcome. It shows your kindness and peace.

What was there to smile about anymore? Julius shook the old memory out of his mind, smiling bitterly. Everything was descending into darkness and chaos, and it would only continue with him as the Loptrian Emperor. Besides, there was no reason to make these people comfortable in the least.

Julius narrowed his eyes, letting his eyes rest on each and every member sitting in front of him on the long table. Duke Danann of Dozel. Duke Bloom of Friege. Duke Scipio of Ygnvi. Duke-Bishop Rodan of Edda. The leaders of Grannvale, all gathered in one place by his call. He could feel the Holy Blood resonating in them, and Loptous’ growing displeasure. However, for the time being, Julius would contain him.

Julius put his hands on the table loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “As you can see, the news is true. I have overthrown my father, and am now your rightful emperor of Grannvale.”

The dukes looked at each other cautiously. Now, they all knew Julius. This meant no one expected the wise, kind prince to do something like this, and look at them with such apathetic malice in his eyes. “Ah…I suppose congratulations are in order then, your Majesty.” Duke Bloom hesitantly asks, always the coward of the bunch, Julius thought. “May I ask what has happened to Emp–er, Lord Arvis, then?”

“Dead.” Julius couldn’t believe how quickly the words came out of his mouth, and he internally trembled in fear at how apathetic he sounded. “The Empress as well.”

“What?!” Duke Danann boisterously bellowed in shock. “Even as the Crown Prince, that is foolish! Empress Deirdre was one of the last bearers of Naga Holy Blood!”
At the mere mention of Naga, Julius felt the insane rage rising rapidly. Loptous had heard, of course, and Julius could feel the barrier of mental control breaking. “No! Wait!”

He couldn’t let Loptous take control now, with what Manfroy was planning for the empire! Julius struggled internally, trying to keep the madness at bay.

It was no use. Julius blinked once at Danann, and when his eyes opened, they were darker than ever. “You call me, your emperor, in front of all the dukes, foolish?”

Dread filled the room at just those few words, and Danann paled. The book of Loptous had sat still on Julius’ lap, but it was now starting to open. Not that the dukes could see it, of course. All they could see was the mysterious dark aura surrounding the young emperor. It was enough to intimidate them greatly.

“Ah–! I…” Danann looked around him for support, finding none. He stared into Julius’ deadly eyes. Even though the man was almost twice his size, it felt like Julius was easily the more dangerous one there… “I…I misspoke, your Majesty.”

“Good. Then we move on to the reason you all have been summoned.” Loptous snarled, and Julius’ heart sank. He couldn’t stop it. The most horrific plan he had ever heard of, and one that he knew was absolutely evil and wrong, Loptous influence or not. “As your emperor, I am hereby decreeing the Child Hunts be put into place.”

A shocked silence fell across the room. Loptous took this as the opportunity to continue. “Children will be rounded up in every area of the empire and kept in captivity. They will fight each other in the arenas, and those who survive will be raised into nobles of the new empire.”

The horror that spread across the room was silent, but somehow very palpable at the same time. This was unimaginable cruelty, yet the insanity had been phrased so calmly, that it shook them all to their very core. How could someone just say something like that with such ease and apathy?

Indeed, that was the question Julius was asking himself. The Child Hunt was Manfroy’s plan to both grow Loptous’ power and control the empire’s populace. Inspired by the hunts of the first Loptrian Empire, children would be rounded up into arenas where they would fight. The winners would be molded into new nobles that Manfroy and his church could indoctrinate into loyal subjects of the empire. That is if they didn’t become useless from severe trauma.

The losers…would be sacrificed to Loptous, to increase his power. Thousands of children across Jugdral would be ripped away from their families, forced to battle, and ultimately be killed for…Julius.

Julius wanted to throw up, even though he couldn’t control his body. The rest of the nobles looked like they wanted to do the same. They seemed disgusted and shocked into silence, and Julius could practically feel the smugness of Manfroy radiating behind him, so pleased in their discomfort.

“Th–that’s ridiculous!” The Duke-Bishop of Edda was the first to speak up, spluttering in confusion and rage, shooting to his feet. “Those practices were of the abominable Loptrian Empire! This cruelty put in so little care…what in Naga is wrong with you?!”

You fool! Julius tried to regain control of his body, but Loptous forcibly pushed him aside, leading to a very odd feeling of vertigo. The mention of Naga had predictably made Loptous crazy with rage, and it showed on Julius’ face, as no other duke had any words looking at the mad expression. Julius felt his body stand, brimming with dark energy. “There seems to be a…misunderstanding. I’m sure you have all heard the rumors of the Loptrians returning, even being part of the coup here in Belhalla, yes?”

The implication sank in slowly, and all the dukes paled. Only now did they realize that men in dark robes had been creeping into the room, surrounding them all. Julius could practically smell their fear even without control of his body, and a small, corrupted part of his mind found himself enjoying it…

Duke-Bishop Rodan was starting to back up, hands rising. “I–I merely meant–urk!”

He choked, as a tendril of darkness flew out and wrapped around his neck, lifting him up. Cries of surprise and anger rose from the others, but Loptous made sure that the Book of Loptous was now in his hand for all to see, glowing with dark purple energy. It deterred them long enough for him to speak. 

“You see…those rumors are true. This is not a continuation of Arvis’ regime. The…‘abominable’ Loptrian Empire…” An insane, rageful grin spread across Julius’ face. “That will now be the empire you serve!”

The Duke-Bishop thrashed in the grip, gasping for air. He clawed at the darkness, but it was no use. Still, with eyes bulging out, he choked out, “I…will never…stand for that! You…will bring ruin…and death…upon this world!”

The emperor looked at him, unimpressed. “Then I suppose there is no need for you!”

Dark energy poured out from the Book of Loptous, swirling around Rodan like a dark tornado. It closed in on him, and for a moment, all one could see was a mass of darkness and shadow.

The sounds of the thrashing suddenly ceased. The darkness fell away, leaving a pile of ash. Loptous let the moment drag on, watching with the dukes as the ashes drifted slowly down, down, down to the ground. On his face was just irritation, like that was but a minor nuisance. On Manfroy’s, cruel glee. On his Loptrian mages, indifference. On the dukes…

“Any…other objections?” Loptous asked, glaring at them all. There were none, of course, excluding Julius screaming at Loptous in his mind, though that was easily ignored. “Then my command stands. I expect the victorious children to be sent to Belhalla in ten days, no later.”

“Erm…your majesty,” Scipio flinched as Julius turned toward him, but continued. “We will obey, of course, but…the citizens may not stand for the child hunts–”

“Pathetic.” Loptous snarled, making the duke recoil back. “Can you not even control your own subjects? If you need to, keep it hidden then. Lie to the people, and make it seem like a myth. It matters not to me. If you do not deliver…”

The threat stood, and Julius felt his heart stoop as his body was returned to him. Already the dukes were pledging allegiance and obedience, hastily leaving the room. Manfroy stepped up to him, congratulating and giving praises of worship to his dark lord. Julius didn’t react to any of it. The dukes thought he was a madman who supported the Loptrians. The Loptrian Empire’s nightmarish practices were returning. Manfroy was reaping the benefits of his manipulation. He was emperor, yet everything was out of his control. 

Julius stared at the ground, at the ashes that covered the floor. Is this what father had felt like? 

There was no hope for him. He was already corrupting. Julius would have children sacrificed to him, and he wasn’t even sure if he would care. Julius couldn’t do anything. He had no allies, besides a malevolent dragon raging inside his mind and the voices of seventeen evil emperors.

Was there any hope?

“Archbishop, your Majesty! We have news from Velthomer!” A dark-robed messenger ran into the room, kneeling before Julius, who stared at him blankly. 

“Finally. Why have they not sent a representative to this meeting?” Manfroy grumbled. “I understand their duke is dead, yet still nothing?”

“Velthomer is under the leadership of Bishop, now Duke Saias, Archbishop!” The messenger declared loudly. “They also house the Crown Princess, lady Julia!”

“What!?” Manfroy snarled, and Julius lifted his head up slowly. Julia…?

“There’s more! They have revealed the Loptrian Empire and our schemes to the Velthomer, and news is spreading quickly. They have declared open rebellion!”

Manfroy spat out more curses, but Julius didn’t listen. Julia…Saias…they were alive…! They were resisting against the Loptrians…against him!

Was there…still hope?

Chapter Text

778, one month after the Loptrian Coup

Julius. Loptous. Julius. Loptous.

Back and forth the control would switch, and frankly, Julius knew both of them were getting tired of it. After the incident with the dukes, Loptous had begun taking control of him more and more, using him to enact his power and actions. However, Julius never stopped fighting back. As such, there was no telling when one would be in control of the other…

When Loptous was in control, he was in constant anger, with no care for anyone but him and his revenge. He was completely apathetic to the child hunts, viewing it as his source of power, and what would help him destroy Naga and her dragons’ descendants. Every little thing could send him into a rage, and Manfroy worked hard to keep him in a state of calm irritation. That is, when he didn’t want him to slaughter everyone around him…

When Julius was in control, he still had to contend with the voices of the Gair Emperors whispering in his mind, telling him to kill, steal, and destroy. It was infectious, and it continued to slowly destroy his morals. Eventually, he would end up as bad as they were, centuries ago…

And so, most of Julius’ time now was spent in his room, meditating as he wrestled with Loptous over control of his mind and body. Loptous growled angrily in his mind, but finally subsided his thrashing, allowing Julius to rest easy.

The new emperor breathed out slowly. For now, he could rest a little easier. The dragon would be back, most definitely. Back when he least expected it, to take control once more. 

“Starting to understand, I see.” Loptous snarled, clearly not happy about Julius’ defiance, but thankfully not trying to attack once more. “You can’t keep this up forever. Even if you do, the ideals of the emperors will turn you into an avaricious husk of cruelty. And when that happens, none of your hope and morals can stop me. You–”

“I will be happy to be possessed by you at that point, yes, I know.” Julius interrupted the monologue, his eyes still shut in concentration. “You’ve said it many times already. That time has not come yet.”

“I still do not understand you.” Loptous raged. “Even now your enemies conspire against you. There is a rebellion forming in Velthomer, and yet you take no action!”

Julius didn’t bother to explain to him why. If the dragon really wanted to know, he could find out in his mind. He dryly asked, “What would you do, then?”

“Crush them like the insects they are, of course. Starting with the bastards in Edda…those pathetic Naga-worshipping insects.” Loptous maniacally chuckled, his hate-filled laughs echoing through Julius’ mind. “I will enjoy turning them to ash one by one…”

Julius didn’t answer. Even after killing the Duke-Bishop of Edda, the dukedom still refused to conduct the child hunts, angering both Loptous and Manfroy greatly. They continued their duty as the head of the worship of Naga, with the priests of Bragi stubbornly refusing to obey the Loptrian’s demands. 

There were talks of them allying with Saias’ rebellion in Velthomer. If that happened, crushing them would be much more problematic…might as well tear both of them down stone by stone…ah. There it was again.

Julius pushed the tome of Loptous together tighter, hoping that if he kept it shut tighter, the voices would have less of an influence on him. He also decided to ignore the derisive scoff from Loptous at the thought. Slowly but surely, Julius knew...he was becoming more cruel, and more prone to Loptous’ demands by the hour…

“Lord Julius?” A voice from outside the door called at him, and it took the emperor an embarrassingly long amount of time to recognize it. “I need to talk with you, please.”

Ishtar…

Oh, how he had been avoiding this moment. Her voice was a mask of concern that hid an undertone of shocked rage. She must have come to talk about the child hunts… “I…no!” Julius cried out, the calm facade that he had been building up quickly cracking. “I–I don’t want to see you!”

If she came in, she would see him for what he really was. At worst, she would see an absolute monster, full of cruelty and anger. At best, a corrupted version of himself, selfish and uncaring. Would she see the dark god as Manfroy and the Loptrians did, or a devil of madness like the dukes saw?

Ishtar was quiet for a moment, but Julius knew she wouldn’t be deterred enough by so little. “Are…are you alright, Lord Julius? You sound in pain…”

This time, her concern was real. She entered, and Julius immediately recoiled. The shivers of uneasiness crept up his skin as Loptous hissed at the lightning coursing in her Holy Blood. Julius turned away, unable to look at her. “D–don’t come any closer! I–I…I don’t want to hurt you too!”
“Hurt me?” Ishtar paused, and Julius knew she was starting to connect the dots. “Who…?”

She knows, she knows, she knows.

Ishtar kept coming closer. Julius stiffened as she sat beside him, reaching for his hand. He snapped it away from her, shouting, “Get away from me!”

She recoiled, and Julius immediately felt his heart plummet as he stared at her shocked, fearful face. Were his eyes glowing dark red? Was the dark aura already surrounding him? 

She thinks I’m a monster.

“I…I–I’m sorry…” Julius stammered out, feeling miserable. He turned away, unable to look at Ishtar. Maybe now, she would leave. What if Loptous took over right now? Would he attack her? Could he even kill her?

Would Ishtar bleed out in his arms just like Deirdre did?

The thought made him tremble with horror. He couldn’t let that happen, even if the last person who still saw him as a human were to leave his side…he steeled his nerves, forcing his expression to become impassive. “Ish…Ishtar. Leave.”

“What?” Ishtar stared, hurt and confused. “You’re pushing me away? Lord Julius, what’s going on? I can tell something is wrong! Please, tell me.”

He didn’t answer and just continued looking away. Julius knew it was cowardly, not even looking into her eyes, but he just couldn’t do it…eventually, he heard Ishtar give an irritated sigh.

“I don’t understand! I’ve been listening to all the rumors, and I knew they weren’t true!” Ishtar stood suddenly, and Julius was a little taken aback. Ishtar so rarely raised her voice… “But then you kill Duke-Bishop Rodan, and institute Child Hunts?!”

She moved herself in front of Julius, forcing him to look her in her eyes, to his discomfort. “Do you know what they’ve been saying, Julius? They’re calling you the scion of darkness, the son of evil. A demon, a devil, a monster. And you…you…”

They’re right. Julius bitterly thought, tearing his gaze from Ishtar with a grimace. It felt wrong to even stare at such beauty when he was now so…ugly. 

“What happened to you, Julius?” The title drop didn’t go unnoticed. It was not Lord Julius. Not Manfroy’s god, not the monster of Belhalla. Just…Julius.

“I…I…” Julius hesitated, still not sure whether to talk. However, as soon as he looked up into those worried, caring eyes of hers, he knew it was over. He could never lie to her.

“I killed Mother.” And with those words, everything else came spilling out. Manfroy’s manipulation, the book of Loptous, the dark dragon possessing his mind and body, and all the death and destruction he brought upon others is so little time…and as he did, tears began to flow again. Saying it all out loud made the reality of things hit him even harder. Julius felt irredeemable, unworthy of any love or care, and he wanted to pull away from Ishtar and wallow in his own misery.

Ishtar didn’t let him. She listened, and she embraced him gently as he spoke grief-filled, watery-sobbing confessions. When he was finished speaking, and a puddle of misery in her arms, Ishtar gathered herself first. “You’ve been through…so much, Julius. I’m so, so sorry.”

“W-what?” Julius couldn’t believe it. Sorry? For what? All she had done was be with him, no matter the situation. “Why–?”

“I should have been here earlier, Julius.” Ishtar continued, locking eyes with her lover. “You’ve been hurting for so long…I should have been here for you…”

You already are. Was what he wanted to say, but it felt like Julius’ vocal cords had frozen up entirely.

“But…but you–we can’t give up, Julius,” Ishtar added, putting on a brave face. “We can’t have Manfroy and Loptous have their way.”

“I…I,” Julius knew that. Of course, he did! But… “I can’t…he’s too strong…no matter how hard I try, it’s inevitable…it’s better if I just die here–”

“You can’t be thinking like that!” Ishtar protested, grabbing his shoulders gently. “Don’t you dare, Julius!”

The prince slowly looked at her, his eyes dull and dry from tears now. Why was she so afraid? Julius was a monster now…wouldn’t it be better for everyone? After talking to her, he realized just how…tired he was. Tired of fighting, tired of resisting…

“You’ve been fighting his influence all this time. I’ll be by your side through it all, Julius.” Ishtar began to tear up, embracing Julius tightly. “Just please…don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on your life already…”

Julius stilled, falling into the embrace so warm and bright. Her hope against his despair. Her will against Manfroy’s plans. Her kindness against Loptous’ anger.

Would it be enough? “Ish…”

She wiped at her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Please, don’t let him do what he wants, Julius–”

“You think he lets me do anything, insect?” The suddenness of the snappish reply was paramount to a firework going off in the middle of the room. Ishtar withdrew immediately, realizing the situation quickly. Julius retreated into the depths of his mind, surprised and helpless. Now, it was Loptous sitting in front of the princess of thunder.

“I grow tired of watching this show." Julius, now Loptous, narrowed his eyes at Ishtar, all the prior hope and care gone in an instant in them. "My vessel seems quite fond of you, but I will not indulge you so far. You, just like many others, seem to misunderstand who is in control.”

Ishtar backed away, beginning to reach for her tome. Loptous ignored it, standing up as well. She was no threat to him, Holy Blood or not. “You may think the little prince has a chance to stand against me.”

His dark red eyes glared hatefully at her, so unnerving and unnatural. “I will prove to you how wrong you are.”

Ishtar stepped slowly through the hall of Belhalla, unsure of where she was going or why she was walking. Everything was changing for the worse, and she had no idea what to do now.

Julius…he used to be so sensible and kind…yet he was completely swallowed by the hate of Loptous. She should have been here for him earlier! If she was, maybe he wouldn’t have fallen so deeply into despair…so far that he wanted to end it all…if only she could do more for him. Ishtar had maintained a brave face for Julius, but in truth, she had no idea what to do.

“Lady Ishtar!” One of her escorts, a mage knight of the Gelben Ritter, came running up to her. She absentmindedly acknowledged him, letting him speak. “There’s something that’s happened at Friege. Your aunt, Lady Tailtu…”

Things were going to take a turn for the worse from now on. That was the thought Ishtar had as she watched Hilda order soldiers to pull Tailtu’s still body out of the cell. Technically, it was a living room, but it was no different than a dungeon in both appearance and usage…

“Seems she passed away in the night. Regrettable, I suppose.” Hilda sniffed disdainfully. Ishtar watched in silent horror, gazing at the marks of abuse and torture on her aunt’s broken body.

Ishtore did not seem to be taking it as well, though that was not a high standard. In a flourish of emotion, her brother stormed out of the room in a rage. He didn’t say anything, and neither could Ishtar. After all, they stood by as Hilda continually mistreated Tailtu and Tine, and did nothing but give words of comfort. What could they say now when they did not speak up earlier?

Another regret to add to her quickly growing pile. Ishtar quietly walked into the room, gently embracing Tine, who was curled in the corner, silent. Her cousin did not cry, opting to stare blankly at the ground. Ishtar couldn’t tell what she was thinking. 

“She kept saying…Azelle. And…Arthur.” Tine murmured quietly. “That’s…what she said.”

Ishtar wished the girl would cry. She did not deserve this treatment, especially at her age. The least Tine deserved was to show some emotion…but she knew that even that would often result in Hilda’s cruel actions; her mother would look for any excuse, after all.

Ishtar realized she was much more absent than she realized. Absent for Julius, for Tine. She should have acted earlier. She should have acted more resolutely. And Ishtar knew if she didn’t act, these things would continue to happen. Loptous and Manfroy would not give up on their plans…

Ishtar had to grow stronger. It was not enough to be a simple Mage Knight. She had to become strong…strong enough to protect Tine, strong enough to stand for herself.

And maybe, strong enough to save Julius.

Saias stared at the distance, not believing his eyes. Julia stood next to him, hesitant to even say what she saw. “Edda…they were planning to ally with us…”

Saias trembled, his hands threatening to drop the Valflame. His home for four years, where he had studied to become a bishop, was burning in the distance. The church, his comrades, the senior bishops…

“I think…it must be the Loptrian Empire.” Saias choked out. He took a deep breath, but his voice still cracked as he continued. “Julius…Loptous must have wanted to make an example.”

Smoke rose from the castle in the distance, and Saias wondered if it would carry the screams of burning citizens all the way here. This was a message, he knew. Whether to Velthomer, Belhalla, or opposers in general. The walls of Edda began to crumble as one tower fell, the resounding BOOM fell even under Saias’ feet.

This was not just a rebellion. This had to be a revolution. This was the beginning of a war.

“Please, don’t take him! I’ll.. I’ll do anything!”

Raydrick snorted, but raised a hand, stopping his soldiers. They stood at the doorway obediently, tightly restraining a young boy, who kicked and screamed to no avail. “And what exactly, would I want from you?”

His sneer made her flinch, but the woman did not back down, surprisingly. She hesitated, but Raydrick realized with slight amusement that she had something to say. “I…I know where the prince of Leonster is.”

Raydrick blinked. He had not expected that, and neither had his soldiers, given the startled looks they were giving him. After a moment, the duke of Munster laughed. “Haha! And you’ll tell me where the son of Quan is if I let your child go?”

“...Yes. Please.” The woman quietly answered, and Raydrick considered it. He had no sympathy for her, of course, and neither did he care for their outrage of the Child Hunts. However, the prince of Leonster, the hope of the Northern Thracian people, had been a problem in the Munster District. Or rather, the idea of him had been a problem, inspiring the people to rebel and hope for Leonster’s return. He had been hiding very well for the past decade, but if Raydrick could find him now and kill him…his rule in Northern Thracia would be secure for the future, and it would break the people’s will.

Sending Calf, Quan, and their last heir to the grave? How could he pass up on that? Raydrick grinned, looking at the trembling woman. But if she wanted to do business, he would oblige. “Very well then.” 

With a flick of his hand, the boy was sent tumbling back to his mother, crying into her arms. “Get talking. I’m a busy man, after all.”

“Febail?” The shrill call loudly echoed across, causing the archer in question to jolt in annoyance. “Febai–”

“I can hear you!” Febail snapped, stepping into view. He sighed, putting away Yewfelle, and turning to face his sister. “What do you want, Patty?”

“Are you hiding from me?” Patty complained, ever so talkative. “I’ve got important news!”

“Alright, alright.” Febail rolled his eyes at his sister’s antics. “What is it?”

“I was talking with Lina, and she told me she found a huge stash of treasure out in the Aed Desert!” Patty excitedly proclaimed, in a complete turnaround of emotion. “It could help us feed the kids for years!”

“Hmm.” Febail just frowned silently, somewhat deterring Patty of her excitement. “Lina. Your rebel friend?”

Patty blinked, a little confused. “Um, yeah. Don’t you remember her?”

Febail worriedly fiddled Yewfelle, the only thing he had left from his parents. The little resistance that was happening in Conote had helped him and Patty out here and there, but he didn’t like to be associated with them. His priority was helping the orphans survive, not wage a rebellion against the empire. If they were trying to drag him into a fight… “Are you sure about this? What if she’s just trying to get you to help her fight the empire or something?”

“It’s out in the Aed Desert, Febail.” Patty exasperatedly sighed. “Besides, even if it was the empire, I wouldn’t mind taking the empire down a peg or two!”

Febail narrowed his eyes, and Patty quickly backtracked. “Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s too dangerous. I’ll be off then!”

Febail sighed, unable to protest. He knew she wouldn’t listen anyway… “The Aed Desert is far away. You’ll be gone for a few weeks, at least.”

“Yeah. Think you can manage?”

He considered it. Mercenary work wasn’t going too bad, but Patty’s thievery skills helped them out a lot more than Febail would want to admit. However, if she really thought this ‘treasure’ would do so much… “I’ll be fine. When do you leave?”

“I’ll leave tomorrow. Gotta say bye to the kids!” Patty skipped away to the orphanage, humming happily to herself. Febail just shrugged in response, stretching absentmindedly. Honestly, he was feeling a little uneasy about this. Febail had heard of some rumors around Conote, about Child Hunts and atrocities in Grannvale…he really hoped they didn’t reach all the way here.

“So you’re the Black Knight?” The green-haired dancer brightly asked, surprisingly unaffected by the scene that had just happened.

Ares blinked in surprise, sheathing Myssletainn. The sword hummed gently in annoyance, disappointed in the lack of bloodshed. “That’s what you ask? With what I just did?”

She snorted, gesturing at the bodies on the ground. “I mean, they’re not dead, right? I never liked them, anyway.”

“That was very clear,” Ares muttered, staring disdainfully at the men who had tried to harass the dancer just a minute earlier. They would wake up tomorrow, and hopefully never do it again if they wanted to wake again. He turned to leave, but she stopped him with a question.

“So, what’s your name?” 

He turned around, raising an eyebrow. “What does it matter to you?”

“You helped me, silly!” She cheerfully answered. “I might as well get to know my savior’s name.”

Savior, huh? He hadn’t heard that one before. “It’s Ares.”

“Ares, hmm…” The dancer looked deep in thought but then smirked at him playfully. “You know, for such a famous mercenary, you don’t look as big and strong as I thought.”

“You don’t look so tough yourself.” Ares dryly responded, and she pouted.

“Hey! Hmph!” She turned away petulantly, and Ares couldn’t help but smile. Not that he let her see it. “It’s Lene, by the way. Not that you asked.”

The mercenary shrugged like it didn’t matter to him, but privately, he committed that name to memory. Somehow, he knew that this would not be the first time he would meet this ‘Lene’...

“It’s been too long, Hannibal.” Altena sipped her tea, Gae Bolg lying off to the side. Arion sat next to her, absentmindedly tapping the ground with Gungnir. “We should get together like this more, honestly.”

“You know how Travant is.” The general sighed, leaning back slowly and placing his hands on the table. “That man is so dedicated to Thracia, he’ll forget anything else exists at all.”

“Things will change now, however. With the new empire.” Arion noted, a touch of concern in his usual stony tone. “I don’t like the agendas they are pushing on us. Father will have to decide whether to remain allies or oppose their orders…”

Altena frowned, tapping her cup repeatedly on the table. “He can’t let them do what they want. Emperor Julius is a madman. They say he destroyed Edda, and instituted the Child Hunts in Grannvale. If we let him walk unopposed here, wouldn’t they do the same here?”

“It’s very possible.” Hannibal agreed, and Arion reluctantly nodded in agreement. “I do not know what has occurred in Grannvale…but I fear it will quickly spread across Jugdral.”

“Hmph. If they try to hunt the children of Thracia here…” Altena glanced at the Gae Bolg, her expression souring at the thought. 

“I’m sorry I’m late!” A voice suddenly interrupted them, and a young boy scrambled into the room, his bright blonde hair tousling in the air. 

“Ah, Coirpre.” Arion greeted, hiding his slight relief at the subject being changed. “How nice of you to join us.”

The boy flushed in embarrassment, stammering incoherently. Hannibal sighed at his son’s antics. “Honestly, Coirpre, I told you Arion and Altena were coming…”

“Sorry, father…”

“It’s fine, Coirpre.” Altena interceded. She lifted her cup, now empty. “Could you show me to the kitchen? We’ve run out of tea…”

“Ah, of course!” Coirpre hastily said, turning to his father. “I’ll be quick, father.”

Hannibal grunted in acknowledgment, watching in amusement as Coirpre led the princess out the door. He turned to say something to Arion, but stopped, noticing that the prince was still staring at the doorway, even though they were already gone. His expression of wistful longing reminded him of…

The general sighed in realization, and Arion slowly turned back to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I daresay, my prince,” Hannibal started, his demeanor changing to seriousness instantly. Arion did not miss this, and he tensed up. “With the way you look at her, she seems to be more than a sister to you.”

Arion stared at him, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights. “Or I suppose she isn’t your sister at all. But you knew that already, I assume.”

“....I did,” Arion confessed, opting not to question Hannibal. Instead, the prince quickly went from wariness to acceptance of the general’s intuition. “As you’ve said, Altena is much more than a sister to me. It…it began as kinship when we were children, but now…”

Hannibal nodded in acknowledgment, choosing not to give his opinion. It was not his place to question the love life of his prince, after all. However, “She doesn’t know her heritage, though.”

“She does not, despite wielding the Gae Bolg,” Arion confirmed. “I suppose she must assume that her mother possessed the Holy Blood of Njorun. It’s not something we have discussed.”

“Perhaps it should be.” Hannibal simply said, and he could see the conflict warring in Arion’s mind. Tell, or don’t tell? Remain in this status quo, or change something? “Things are going to change from now on, Arion. With Thracia and the Empire, with Travant and the emperor. Perhaps today is the time of change for you and Altena as well.”

Leif hadn’t felt comfortable leaving Nanna and Mareeta alone at Fiana as he and the other Freeblades headed to support the nearby villages. It reminded him of the fall of Ulster and Tarrah, where if he left for a second the empire would swoop in and attack.

It was irrational, he had told himself. There was nothing to worry about. Eyvel often said his concern was excessive, and most of the time Leif agreed. 

Now was not that time. Smoke rose from the distant houses as even from their distance Leif could see the formations of soldiers of the empire. Leif let out a shrill cry of despair, spurring into a run.

“Leif, wait!” Eyvel caught up to him, grabbing his arm. “Listen, Little Lord. We’ll fight off Imperial troops. We’ve always known you couldn’t hide forever; You and Finn should get out of here, not run straight into where they want you.”

“What?!” Leif, so startled he paused, looked at her incredulously. “I’m not just going to abandon you!”

“Lord Leif, please calm down.” Finn looked distraught as well, but as always maintained his composure. “We have no idea if there are more troops on the way. And with you being their main target…”

“No.” Leif resolutely shook his head. “I’m sorry. I won’t run, not anymore. I’m tired of running. I will stand and fight this time…that’s my decision to make.”

Eyvel and Finn still looked torn, but Osian laughed behind them, a rambunctious chortle. “That’s what I’m talking about, Leif! We gotta show the empire who they messed with, right Commander?”

Eyvel frowned at him, but decided to turn to Finn. “What do you say? Will you let the little Lord throw himself into harm’s way?”

Leif opened his mouth to object, but Finn spoke first. “Lord Leif is old enough to make important decisions. He is no longer a child. As his knight, I will abide by his order.”

He glanced at Leif, and added, “And as a father, I will not abandon Nanna.”

“You said it yourself, Commander,” Leif said quietly, drawing the Freeblades’ attention. “They’re after me. I’m the reason why they’re here in Fiana. And I’m tired of people sacrificing themselves to protect me! I will protect everyone with everything that I am…I hope that is alright, Commander Eyvel!”

“Then it’s settled,” Eyvel said after a moment, smiling like a proud mother at Leif’s declaration. “Mareeta and Nanna are still in the village, no doubt trying to protect the villagers. We have no time to waste. Let’s go!”

Mareeta had to call multiple times before Nanna responded. The girl seemed somewhat in shock at the whole ordeal, not having said a word since Raydrick shoved them in the back of the wagon.

“I asked, are you doing okay?” Mareeta asked again, looking at her pointedly.

“I’m… I’m fine.” Nanna mumbled, curled in the corner of the wagon, still as a statue.

You’re a bad liar. Mareeta wanted to say. She glared at the other side, wishing she could incinerate Raydrick with her gaze alone. They were in a very precarious situation, with him knowing both Nanna's and Leif’s identity. “Don’t worry, Nanna. As soon as I get my hands on a sword, I’ll get us out of here.”

She was only half-joking, but Nanna smiled slightly regardless, which made it worth it. “Don’t do anything rash. Leif and the others will be coming for us…”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about though…” Mareeta muttered. Leif would storm into Munster Castle itself, rash as he was. According to Raydrick though, that was exactly what he wanted…

“We’re here.” A gruff voice interjected, and guards pulled them roughly out of the wagon. Munster Castle loomed ahead of them, strict and imposing. To some, it was their home. To Mareeta, it looked more like a prison…

Raydrick led the way, and the guards followed, pulling Mareeta and Nanna along. Mareeta trudged forward reluctantly, keeping an eye on the swords on the soldiers’ sides. 

As they passed through the gate, the soldier in front of her turned to talk to the gate guard, leaving his side completely blind. Still focused on his sword, Mareeta instantly felt every instinct in her body draw toward the blade.

Nanna had told her not to do anything rash…but there was no telling what would happen if they went along with Raydrick! Mareeta lunged forward suddenly, unsheathing the blade from the soldier’s scabbard in a flourish, exhilaration rushing through her as the familiar weight of a blade set in her hands. In a second, she had cut her bonds and lunged at Raydrick first.

Every lesson her mother taught her ran through her mind in that split second. Her aim was perfect; the slash would go straight through the general’s neck. 

Like the Sword Saint had possessed her himself, Mareeta rushed forward like a shooting star, before anyone could even react. One flash of the blade, and Raydrick stumbled back, blood flying in the air.

Mareeta breathed heavily, ready to turn on the others. However, to her shock, Raydrick did not fall. He coughed once, twice, then laughed. “Hahahaha! I should have known you would try something!”

“What…?” Mareeta stood, dumbfounded. She knew that strike had hit cleanly! He should have been dead before he even knew it!

The next thing she knew, Raydrick’s blade lashed out, knocking her stolen weapon out of her hands. Mareeta gasped, cursing herself for losing focus. But it was too late; the soldiers surrounded her, weapons at the ready. She had failed.

Raydrick sneered at her, a hand pressed to his neck, covering the shallow wound. “If I hadn’t had this sword, I would have died, you know.”

Mareeta glanced at Raydrick’s blade, a curved sword radiating evil energy that even she could sense. A magic sword? Looking at his neck, what should have been a gaping wound was merely a small cut. Raydrick looked more amused at her assassination attempt than anything.

“Fond of swords, are you?” Raydrick grinned, evil inspiration hitting him. “I think I have the perfect blade for you.”

“He’s back?” 

“Yeah, just came back with more prisoners. Some of them children, no doubt…but I heard there were some different ones.” Asbel confirmed.

The prince of Silesse tapped his fingers in thought. Raydrick was causing more trouble in Munster Castle by the day…it made looking for leads on his father even more difficult, with him putting more time into helping the people and opposing Raydrick’s tyranny.

“Are you sure you want to take this mission? You’ve been working nonstop lately,” Machuya asked him from behind, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve taken enough responsibility, becoming our leader and all…didn’t you say you wanted to spend some time looking for your dad or something?”

Ced remained silent. She was right. If he devoted all his time to fighting Raydrick, his search for Lewyn would become obsolete…even though it was the whole reason he came to Thracia in the first place.

However, he remembered how the Friege soldiers treated the citizens of Munster, and the idea of leaving them to themselves made his stomach turn on itself. With a sigh, Ced shook his head. “No. I’ll lead this. My father can wait. Raydrick may not. With each passing minute, there could be more children’s lives in danger.”

The Magi nodded and readied to head out. This would be one of many routine missions against Raydrick, infiltrating the main castle to rescue captured children or dissenters against Raydrick’s rule. Sometimes they were successful, sometimes they weren’t. But Child Hunts kept happening, so Ced couldn’t afford to stop. 

Sorry, mother. Please, just hang on a little longer…

“That is all. Is that understood?” Danan rumbled, glaring at his twin sons. 

He could tell both had the same sentiment, though they each expressed it differently. The younger one spoke first in trademarked brashness.

“What the hell are you talking about, Father?!” Iucharba protested vehemently. “We can’t do that! We’re supposed to govern the people, not murder their children!”

Danan narrowed his eyes at him, making the axe warrior falter slightly, but Iuchar spoke up next, a pensive frown on his face. “Though he was quite brutish, I must agree with him. This is simply unacceptable to do.”

“This is not up to discussion.” Danan snapped. “The rumors about the empire are true. We are under the thumb of a reviving Loptrian Empire. If we do not obey them, Dozel will cease to exist.”

The twins glanced at each other, now wary. They had heard of the coup, of course. But to think that this evil was now right at their doorstep… 

“So…is that clear?” Danan asked again, glaring at his sons. 

Neither of them looked happy about it. Iucharba looked like he was seconds away from another outburst. Iuchar decided to be politely irritated and said nothing. Danan sighed. Stubbornness ran in the family, it seemed.

However, they couldn’t be stubborn now. Because if they were…he shuddered at remembering the stare the emperor had given him. The duke could scarcely believe so much evil could be expressed in a simple gaze…

But his sons didn’t know that, didn’t know the horror he had inflicted and spread that one day. And even if it meant bringing down Dozel’s reputation by siding with evil, Danan would make sure they would never have to find out.

“They’re coming, Lord Seliph!” Deimne called from outside, urgency laced in his voice. 

“Right!” Seliph shouted back. He turned to the children behind him. “Do not worry, children. We will not let them take you. I swear, in the name of my father, that we will protect you to the end. Now go, and hide inside.”

The dozen or so children complied, hastily reentering the house. Seliph took a deep breath, clutching his silver sword tightly. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Seliph turned toward the voice, unsurprised by the speaker.

“King Lewyn. Yes, you did. I didn’t want to believe it.” Seliph hung his head slightly, but quickly raised it again. “But I have accepted it. The empire has revealed its intentions. I will not stand for them.”

“Very good.” Lewyn smiled. “You have the makings of a great leader. Maybe not now, but one day. And I will be your tactician, guiding you to become that leader.”

Shannan came up to them, sword in hand, ready to fight. “Kind Lewyn. Lord Seliph. Are you ready?”

Seliph shivered at the sound of his mentor and older brother figure calling him lord. The motion was not lost on Lewyn, who raised an eyebrow on him. Shaking it off, the young prince nodded at Shannan. “We are. The empire’s child hunts cannot be allowed, and this will only be the beginning. All over Isaach, I hear that children are being kidnapped and sent to Grannvale.”

Shannan grimaced. “Indeed. Why Danan is allowing this, I do not know. He is a cowardly bastard, but this evil does not seem to be his.”

“Regardless, you know what must happen.” Lewyn reminded, and they both nodded. “The others are waiting.”

Seliph nodded, running out to meet the others. He gazed upon his friends, all ready and waiting for his command. One day, Lewyn assured him, his ragtag group would grow into an army of huge proportions…

Seliph couldn’t help but wonder if he could do it. Even now, just with these few people, he was already feeling uneasy…but there was no time for that. Not when Scathach and Larcei were smiling expectantly, eager to fight. Not when Deimne and Lester were counting their arrows for battle. Not when Diarmuid and Oifey were going over the last checks for their armor. Not when even Lana and Muirne were gripping their staves tightly in preparation.

This was it. Shannan stood next to him, awaiting the order. Dozel’s soldiers in the distance charged toward them, aiming for the children in the house. Seliph could no longer be the exiled prince. He had to be the scion of light, the hope of Jugdral. “My friends! Today is the day we rise against the empire. Today is the day we fight their tyranny! Today is the day where the revolution begins!”

Chapter Text

778, three months after the Loptrian Coup

“This is ridiculous!” The warrior kicked a nearby box, watching it tumble away in shattered pieces. “Father still expects us to enforce the Child Hunts while he stays in Ribaut doing who-knows-what!

“It can’t be helped, sire.” Next to him, a Dozel soldier reluctantly pointed out. “Duke Danan has placed you and Lord Iuchar in charge of the majority of the country. Ribaut is but an insignificant city in comparison to Sophara and Isaach City after their civil war decades ago.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Iucharba snapped, swinging his Brave Axe in anger, causing his guards to start to slowly back away from their leader. “Father sits on the throne of Isaach, but he isn’t doing anything! He lounges carelessly in Ribaut while making us do the dirty work of the Empire!”

The irate lord slammed his axe into the ground, but it did little to make him feel any better. Iucharba growled in anger as he thought of Duke Danan, sitting on the throne in Ribaut, away from the masses of struggling citizens, watching Isaach slowly devolve into disorder and disarray. 

“You haven’t been complying with the Child Hunts though, my lord.” The soldier pointed out, and Iucharba rolled his eyes at the obvious statement. “Neither has your brother in the capital.”

“It’s not enough,” Iucharba replied, sitting down in a huff. “Father orders child hunt after child hunt, and General Harold follows his every beck and call.”

“Yes, the hunts in Ganeishire have risen dramatically to fill the quota in the absence of Lord Iuchar and Iucharba’s contributions.” The guard agreed. He was a talkative one, Iucharba noticed absentmindedly. What was his name again? “They’ve even begun to leave their borders to seize children in other cities and villages.”

Iucharba snarled, slamming the axe into the ground. “Are you serious!? Has he entered Sophara to do so?”

“I do not believe so. However, they have been approaching our borders closely, closer than comfort in my opinion.”

“That cowardly bastard.” Iucharba tsked. “I swear, everyone’s going to join the rebellion out of spite against us. At this rate, they would retake Isaach for themselves...”

Iucharba sighed, thinking about it a little more. Would it really be that bad if the rebellion retook Isaach? It’s not like Dozel’s occupation was doing any favors to the citizens, that was for certain. Iucharba himself let the citizens of Sophara do their own thing most of the time, and he was pretty sure Iuchar had the same approach. 

Pushing people around never felt right to Iucharba, but he didn’t really care about ruling Isaach, not like his father did. So the easy thing to do was to leave them all alone...

“Ugh...” Iucharba groaned. This was too complicated for him. He needed a break. 

“Sir! Your father has a message for you!” A messenger ran in, much to Iucharba’s annoyance. What now?! “The emperor is coming to Ribaut to discuss the governance of Isaach. From the way the duke phrases it, it does not seem to be promising...”

Scratch that. Iucharba didn’t need a break. He needed to retire.

“It’s probably him being miffed that we didn’t hunt enough children.” Iucharba scoffed, but it came out as an unconvincing, uneasy bluff. Originally, he had thought Danan’s description of Emperor Julius was a little exaggerated. The demon incarnate, in someone that was the same age as himself? Iucharba had doubted it. 

But why else would he be instituting the child hunts? Why else would he have destroyed Edda? As time passed by, Iucharba began to understand little by little why his father spoke about the emperor with such fear on his face. And if Julius were to actually arrive now...well, it went without saying that Iucharba did not feel very confident about opposing him. In fact, Iucharba was downright trembling about the thought of speaking out against him and his plans, even though just weeks ago he wanted to march to Belhalla to do just that. 

“Enough of this.” Iucharba, after hiding his shaky breaths and trembles, waved his hand airily and began walking toward the door. “I’m heading out.”

“Huh?” Taken aback, his guards weren’t sure what to say. “For what?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Iucharba dismissed. “I’ll be back by sundown, don’t worry.”

He didn’t stay to hear their complaints. Iucharba had a very important appointment.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up. Looks like you were the one to ‘break down and visit’ first, hmm?”

Iucharba couldn’t help but smile at the tease, watching Larcei swing her legs atop her spot. How could he not? There was something about this girl that simply being around her made his heart stumble over itself. 

“Sorry,” Iucharba answered, aware that he was grinning like a fool. “Ran into some business.”

“Let me guess.” Larcei rolled her eyes. “Danan?”

“Yeah. Sent me a message about the emperor.” Iucharba sat down next to Larcei, taking a deep breath as he did. His face wasn’t red, was it? “The emperor’s going to be at Ribaut in a few days.”

“The emperor?!” Larcei exclaimed. “Actually?”

“Seems like it. He’s not happy with how we’re governing Isaach. Probably since Iuchar and I aren’t following his Child Hunts...”

“Well, you’re not going to start now, even if he does come!” Larcei narrowed her eyes at Iucharba expectantly. “ Right ?”

“Right, of course!” Iucharba hastily assured. 

Larcei sighed, simmering down. “Geez. We really can’t catch a break, huh? We’ve had to keep fending off Ganeishire’s hunts, and now the emperor is heading here?”

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to ruin this.” Iucharba awkwardly said, inwardly chiding himself. “I wanted to talk about each other, not about our problems.”

“How romantic. Taking a bit after Iuchar, aren’t ya?” She teased and giggled as Iucharba felt his face contort in disgust at the thought. 

It quickly returned to a grin as he watched Larcei laugh. This girl…she always knew how to raise the mood.  

“You and your rough image to protect.” Larcei rolled her eyes, becoming a little serious. “To be honest, everything is a problem nowadays. Things are getting tougher by the day, even with you and Iuchar holding the child hunts back.”

“I’ll bet it won’t get any easier. Father lets those cultists walk all over him. And from what I’ve heard of the emperor, he ain’t one to mess around with his demands…”

Larcei nodded, uncharacteristically sagely. “Thanks for telling me, anyway. I gotta let Seliph and Shannan know.”

“Least I can do.” Iucharba shrugged.

“You helped me get the courage to disobey my father. If not for you, I’d probably be fighting against you right now.”

“Yeah, that would be bad. For you, I mean.” Larcei teased again, bumping his shoulder. Iucharba laughed it off, but inside he was thinking deeply. He quietly hummed as he pondered what he just said.

This was the same situation, wasn’t it? First was his father ordering him around, now it would be the emperor. And likely his father too, spinelessly obeying the orders without a whisper of protest. And Iucharba found he had to choose again what to do. He didn’t want to follow through with the child hunts. Now that he was in charge of Sophara, it would hurt so many all over Isaach…but could he really do the right thing when his life was at risk?

Iucharba recalled the face of his father as he talked about the new emperor. Emperor Julius…the rumors about him were as cruel as they were new, and the new ruler had established a reputation very quickly throughout his empire. If Danan feared him so much just mentioning him, how much power did this person have? 

The scion of darkness…the vessel of Loptous…the dark god incarnate…how was Iucharba supposed to stand up to that?

“—ba? Iucharba?” Larcei’s concerned voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You alright? You looked lost in thoughts…I think.”

There wasn’t much reference for that particular expression, to be fair. Iucharba was well aware of his reputation of ‘fight first, think later’. “Uh…yeah. I'm fine. Just…just wondering how to do the right thing here.”

Larcei’s gaze softened, and she nodded. Despite her airy exterior, Iucharba knew Larcei understood things more than many others…she had to have after her parents died in the Battle of Belhalla. “Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to die because you spoke out against the emperor. You know what they call him, right?”

Iucharba nodded, even though he wasn’t sure which title she was referring to. Scion of darkness, Loptous incarnate, evil in the flesh; each one plenty ominous and threatening. 

“I’m not sure how to do this…but I know…” Iucharba took a deep breath. He looked up to the sky of Isaach, watching the clouds pass over peacefully. The emperor could turn those into clouds of ash and smoke, and turn the morning song of birds into cries of fear and death. And yet... “Remember when we first met?”

“Of course, I remember.” She snorted good-naturedly. “What, are you forgetting?”

Two years ago…

“More rebels, lieutenant?” Iucharba asked, annoyed. “They just don’t know when to give up…”

“It’s mostly inexperienced youths, no doubt trying to play hero.” His lieutenant, Antioch, dismissively said, watching the soldiers throw the last few into the cells. “It’s not unexpected. It hasn’t been long since taken over Sophara; it’s bound for resistance, especially considering this part of Isaach has enjoyed relative freedom for the past decade.”

“So my father sucked at governing. What’s new.” Iucharba muttered. “Sending me to fix his mess and dirty work again. Keep them in the cells until further notice. I want this crap to end as soon as possible.”

“Yes, my lord.” Antioch left the dungeons, leaving Iucharba to examine the inmates alone. He gazed upon them, mentally agreeing with his lieutenant. Young farmers or carpenters, never seeing an ounce of experience on the battlefield, and he could tell few of them even swung a blade before. Ironic, considering they were natives of Isaach, the land of the sword masters.

He sighed, annoyed at the situation. First thing as the new ruler of Sophara, Iucharba had to deal with rebels showing up over and over again. His advisors had assured him resistance was natural and rebellion would slowly trickle down, but Iucharba had seen the exact opposite occur. No wonder Danan didn’t want to govern this part of Isaach…

He’d bet Iuchar didn’t have to deal with this in the capital. “Hey! Let us out of here!”

Iucharba sighed. Of course, there would be one. “Now who would—“

He paused, noticing just who spoke. A girl slightly younger than him, was grasping the bars with righteous anger in her purple eyes. Two long strands of black hair caught his eye, and Iucharba couldn’t help but wonder why that looked familiar to him.

However, that was different from what he was more focused on. He noticed her hands were worn and calloused. Clear signs of weapons training. Her outfit was clearly tailored toward combat over anything else. And those eyes…those eyes looked like they had seen many a battle.

“Whatcha staring at, huh?” The girl snarked. “Too pretty for you or something?”

“Huh?” With a start, Iucharba realized he had been staring much too long. He fought back a flush at her accusation. “N-no! I just…was surprised.”

He cleared his throat, putting on his best commanding voice. “And why exactly should I let you go? My men told me you lot attacked their convoy and tried to make off with their weapons, supplies, and wealth. You guys are no more than robbers; why would I release thieves?”

“You’re calling us thieves?” The girl scoffed. She narrowed her eyes at him, fierce and accusatory. “We had to survive all by ourselves when the empire first took over. We worked hard to better our lives after losing so much in the war.”

Iucharba glared right back, as the rest of the prisoners behind the girl began to clamor their agreement. Gritting his teeth, he retorted loudly over their talking. “And that makes it okay for you guys to attack us?”

“We attacked you to take back what you first took.” The girl hissed. “After your soldiers took over, they haven’t been making things better, y’know! ‘You guys’ are trying to bully us around for quick coin!”

The prince of Dozel blinked, taken aback by the accusation. What? 

Iucharba wasn’t the best or most attentive ruler, he knew. But he would have known if his men were extorting or mistreating the citizens! 

Right? The thought of such happening without his knowledge made Iucharba’s blood boil for some reason. Was he really paying so little attention to Sophara’s citizens? Flustered, he angrily growled, “You—who are you!?”

The girl didn’t flinch at his harsh outburst, standing tall despite being behind bars. “I’m Larcei. And guessing by your reaction, you’re the ignorant prince that’s letting the citizens suffer under your new power.”

She didn’t stop there. In a brutal, borderline verbal abuse, Larcei hammered the prince with harsh truths about his short but evidently poor rule. A shocked, confused, and agitated Iucharba had no response, desperately looking around for support that never came.

 Extortion. Mockery. Apathy. Violence. All the qualities of poor leadership that Iucharba saw from his father’s reign, are now present right on his doorstep. And with the loud cries of affirmation from all the cells chasing away his attempts of denial, Iucharba was rapidly losing confidence.

What…what had he done? Was this really what was happening out there? “I…I didn’t mean for this to happen?”

“That makes things so much better, huh.” Larcei frowned. 

“I mean—I was only doing what Father told me to do!” Iucharba weakly protested. That’s right, he rationalized. I never wanted this. Father forced it upon me. I’m just following what he does and orders…

It’s not my fault.

“You’re going to let your father walk all over you then?!” Larcei snapped. “That ain’t an excuse for all this! If you’re really just following Dad’s orders, then you need to stand up for yourself!”

Iucharba stepped back, taken completely by surprise. She was suggesting treachery…not just to the duke, but to his father…

But if obeying his father would cause so many to suffer, then was going against him a few times not worth it?

“Don’t be a coward!” Her voice brought him back with a start. “You are the one who has to choose how you affect others! Not your father! Not the emperor!”

“…not anyone.” Iucharba finished. 

“Yep. Pretty good speech if I do say so myself.” Larcei leaned back with a smug smile. 

For a moment, they sat in silence as the birds chirped and the wind gently blew leaves past them. They had the opportunity to sit and bask in the peace. Iucharba thought of the children of Isaach…robbing them of the same opportunity of a peaceful life…he couldn’t let it happen. Not on his watch. 

Going against his father’s orders was one thing. Directly disobeying the emperor was a completely different issue. It was clear betrayal, and would not bode well for him.

Or his family, Iucharba realized grimly. Anyone associated with him could be targeted. Maybe even…

He glanced at Larcei. Her hair gently fluttered as the wind passed by them, and she sighed contently as she plucked a stray leaf out of her dark locks. It was entrancing. 

Iucharba swallowed silently. “Hey, Larcei?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really glad I met you that day.”

“Oh-um…” She turned in surprised. Stumbling over her words, Larcei ran a hand through her hair awkwardly. This kind of intimacy wasn’t her thing… “Er…me too, honestly. Geez, catching me off guard, Iucharba…”

He just chuckled softly in response to her uncomfortable agreement. Iucharba was glad. Meeting her had given him the courage to defy his father. And now it gave him the courage to stand against the emperor and his rumored Loptrians.

He couldn’t stand for the child hunts, not in a million years. Iucharba could not stay silent as the empire committed atrocity after atrocity. And if his father didn’t have the courage to speak up…then Iucharba would take it upon himself to do so.

“One more thing, Larcei.”

“As long as it’s not another sappy dumb confession.” She lightheartedly said, awkwardly chuckling. 

“If I get through this, I’m joining your rebellion.”

“Oh. Wait, what?!”

Stand up for himself. Don’t be a coward. Make your own choice. Do what’s right.

Easier said than done!

Iucharba tried to still the slight tremble in his legs to no avail. How could one person, not even physically imposing, could radiate such dread and fear?

Iucharba had entered the meeting in righteous determination, ready to denounce Julius when he brought up his demands. It didn’t matter what his father said, what his brothers thought, or how the emperor himself would react. He marched into the hall resolutely, spotting his eldest brother who had traveled from Grannvale for this meeting,

“You’re late, little brother. Has ruling taught you nothing?”

“Well hello to you too, Brian.” Iucharba sarcastically snarked back. Larcei was rubbing off him.

Iuchar seemed to notice something was up with him. He warned Iucharba not to do anything ‘characteristically brutish and stupid’, in his words. That didn’t deter Iucharba at all. He had the words planned and ready to shout.

That all changed when Julius spoke. He entered the room, and after the round of greeting ‘Your Majesty’, he had sat down and gotten right to business. 

“So tell me, Dozel.” The words, though spoken normally, seemed to echo loudly throughout the room. “What is your explanation for the lack of child hunts in Isaach?”

Even though he knew it was coming, the words crumbled and died in Iucharba's throat, an invisible dark aura choking away his will. Despite all his preparation and determination, just a few words froze his body completely. Julius radiated fear and malice on a ridiculous level, like a predator of men…

His brothers weren’t faring much better. Iuchar was in a sudden cold sweat, frozen in disbelief. And Iucharba had never seen Brian so nervous…as the mighty Helswath itself slipped from Brian’s iron grip and clattered to the ground.

If Julius noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. The dread continued to build around him like a growing chill. His presence felt so dangerous, so malicious, that Iucharba felt like the angel of death was hovering over them, contemplating which soul to reap first…

“I’m quite sure I gave you all specific instructions…and enough time too…” Each word from the emperor sent icy shivers down Iucharba’s spine. What was happening?! The emperor seemed downright mellow right now, with only the barest hints of annoyance. 

Yet those slightly irritated phrases were enough to subdue an entire room.  “Duke Danan, explain this. Now. My father placed you in charge of Isaach, and I generously allowed you to retain your rule. You repay my generosity with disobedience?”

His words seemed to wrap around the room, suffocating them under darkness, drowning them under invisible pressure.

“N-no, your eminence.” Danan managed to stutter out, pale and evidently terrified. “We simply have had trouble in these early months…adjustments have to be made for brand new circumstances.”

“Is that so?” Julius intoned, tilting his head up. Despite being a head shorter than both Danan and Brian, he effectively stared both down. 

“My father raises a good point.” Brian cleared his throat, his wide eyes darting around fearfully. He had quietly picked up Helswath, clenching the holy ax so tightly Iucharba could see his knuckles whitening. “There are many variables in introducing a new process…there will bound to be resistance, sire. And, to say that we have not been inducting the child hunts is simply untrue…”

“I suppose. Yet the number of children sent from Isaach is unacceptably low…neither Friege nor Ygnvi have the ‘adjustment issues’ you speak of.”

“I-if I may interject, your majesty.” Iuchar slowly cut in. All his pretty talk would be necessary here… 

“Every nation has its own circumstances…we’ve had a problem with a rebellion—one that will be resolved soon, I assure you—“ Iuchar hastily added as Julius turned his frightening gaze onto him like a viper to its prey. “But it has slowed down our progress in the last few weeks. It’s simply a slow start…your Majesty.”

“So you all say.” The emperor narrowed his eyes, and the tiny action felt like it would stop Iucharba’s heart, which pounded in his ears. It was so quiet in the room, after all…his heartbeat was like a roar to him. “Very well…if that is your insistence. Then I suppose there will be no problem with the child hunts now? I should be seeing the appropriate amount of sacrifices by the month’s end, yes?”

“I assure you, your majesty.” Danan hastily agreed, breathless. Brian and Iuchar remained quiet, maybe just glad that they had managed to get past this. But Iucharba…

Sacrifices… what was he doing, sitting silently in terror!? It was happening again…Danan was just letting the empire walk all over him! Even Brian and Iuchar, who Iucharba KNEW hated the child hunts as much as he did, just rolled over and accepted the emperor’s whims…was fear enough of a reason to lay down and die? To make others suffer so you wouldn't? 

His father and brothers had already answered that question by bowing to Julius’ malevolent commands, and it was now Iucharba’s turn to choose. His choice…not the emperor’s…not his father's! 

If he did what his family just did, Iucharba knew he could never live with the knowledge that he himself condemned thousands of children to their deaths. Iucharba knew what could happen when he spoke up. This presence of death and destruction, released upon them all… Get up! Say something! MOVE!

Standing right before them, the threat was enough to deter everyone else. But even as he trembled in Julius’ presence, Iucharba raised his head slowly. I might be doing something dumb again, Larcei…but I’ve made my choice!

“We’ll have the child hunts ready—“ 

“No, we won’t.” Iucharba cut his father off, eyes fixed on Julius, even as the emperor made direct eye contact, which from him was like holding a knife at Iucharba’s throat. “We won’t go along with the child hunts!” 

His declaration seemed to stun time itself, as everything froze in response to his resolve. Even the emperor himself, having been largely emotionless, had his eyes wide with surprise. It was that expression that validated Iucharba. At that moment, he regretted nothing.

 A choking noise was the only indicator that his father had recognized. For a single moment, Iucharba felt on top of the world, as if a magic spell of courage had made him invincible.

“This…child…” Julius ground out, his eyes quickly narrowing, breaking the spell. The pressure returned, and Iucharba swallowed as he mentally steeled himself under the deathly gaze. “Does he speak for you, Dozel?”

“No!” Danan broke out after a moment of silent woe. “Your majesty, he does not mean what he says. As the duke of Dozel, I assure you—“

“That’s enough!” Iucharba cut his father off, surprising himself at his outburst. Too late to turn back now, though. He gritted his teeth, glaring at his father. “Stand up for yourself, father! You’ve been letting the Loptrians walk all over you, and making us follow your humiliation!”

Not waiting for Danan's reaction, Iucharba then turned to his brothers, his mouth moving faster than his thoughts. “Iuchar, Brian! Are you just going to let him bully us to do evil?! We are the descendants of Nal! The blood of Dozel! Brian, you hold the Helswath in your hands! Why are you—”

“Quiet, you foolish boy!” Danan grabbed his son’s shoulders, shaking him violently. “Do you not understand the situation?!”

He turned back to the emperor, and Iucharba could see the excuses forming in his mind. “Please, your majesty. Do not listen to a child’s ramblings. He only—“

“Stop.” Iucharba halted his rebuttal as he felt the darkness swell. Julius stared at the family, eyes darting from one to another. He made eye contact with each one, from Iuchar’s guilty eyes to Brian’s uneasy expression, to Danan’s terrified gaze. And of course, Iucharba’s look of defiance. 

The emperor blinked once. Twice. Then he nodded, muttering something under his breath, in quick back and forth. Iucharba frowned. Was he talking to himself? “…Fine then. You have made your decision, Dozel.”

Danan paled even further if that was even possible. “Wait—”

“And! I have no need for disobedient dogs.” The emperor hissed in a sudden turn of rage, rising from his seat, an aura of purple shadow rising with him like a waking beast.

Iucharba matched his rage as his blood boiled at the insult, ignoring the darkness suddenly swelling from Julius. “We’re not your hounds—”

“Iucharba, move!”

In a rush of movements, Iucharba was tackled to the side while an explosion of darkness rocked the room. All he could hear was roaring destruction; his vision was blurry and dark. 

Iucharba groaned in pain as he rolled to a stop on the hard floor, grabbing his aching ears. He shook his head, trying to regain his sight. Brian was next to him, hands in his face. “Iucharba! Can you hear me!?”

“I…y-yeah.” Iucharba's vision slowly cleared, and he froze as his entire body trembled at the evil figure, darkness crawling over him like ants on skin.

Emperor Julius hovered just over the ground, a specter of a shadow dragon hovering with him. His eyes glowed with malevolent energy while in his hands was a book of pure evil and darkness. His presence, already radiating fear and death, grew to an aura of pure despair. Looking at him, Iucharba felt his emotions being stripped away by darkness, leaving nothing but anguish and hopelessness. Like it was all over now…

“Loptous…” Iucharba barely heard the horrified whisper from Iuchar, as his terrified focus had been drawn away to the side…where a human-shaped husk of ash stood ahead of him, tiny little pieces breaking off at the edges.

“Father…?” That wasn’t him…right? His breath caught in his throat, and Iucharba felt like he was choking as he stared at the corpse.

Iucharba looked around in a daze. Iuchar looked worse than he felt. His brother had blood dripping from at least five different places, and his right arm was bent unnaturally. 

Brian stood in front of him, Helswath held protectively forward like a shield. Iucharba noticed hazily that he was largely uninjured, aside from a gash in his left leg. Brian must have taken the brunt of the attack for him…

Yet his brother stood tall in the face of the emperor. Helswath held high, Iucharba could feel the Holy Blood, radiating like an aura of protection. The holy light briefly shocked Iucharba out of his fear, and he breathed in deeply for the first time in what seemed like hours.

Brian roared at the emperor. “You bastard! You killed him!”

“It would seem so.” Julius mused, airily noting the ash corpse, still standing, though it was quickly crumbling. “I didn’t expect a full-blooded descendant of a Crusader, the ones you insects are so proud of, would die so easily. After all, you seem uninjured.”

“Damn…Iucharba was right. You won’t get your way with us…not like this. I won’t let you trample over Dozel!” Brian declared, swiftly angling the holy ax at Julius, who did not look as impressed as Iucharba felt.

“Are you threatening me, descendant of Nal?” The emperor snarled, unimpressed. “It won’t change anything. You all will die today.”

“Not if I still live.” Brian retorted. “I won’t go down so easy, monster.”

“You should know your place.” Julius responded, raising his tome.

“Get Iuchar and run, Iucharba!”

Just minutes earlier, Brian had been frozen in fear at the emperor’s presence. Now, spurred by righteous anger, the warrior launched himself forward with a mighty roar.

Unfortunately, Iucharba could not say the same for himself. He had just stood tall in the face of death, ready for the consequences. Yet with one more look at the red-haired demon in front of him, Iucharba, with his legs almost moving by themselves, hastily turned and ran toward his twin brother.

Iucharba slid to a stop in front of Iuchar, who lay face-down on the floor. Iucharba grabbed his brother, turning him around. “Iuchar! Iuchar!”

His only response was two watery, painful coughs. A little bit of blood dribbled out of Iuchar's mouth as he hacked and choked. 

“Hah…hah…satisfied, brother?” Iuchar gasped out. “The dark god has been brought upon us…are you satisfied?”

Iucharba was silent for a moment. But there was only one answer. “Was I wrong, Iuchar? You know it was evil…I had already decided. I would rather die doing good than live and cause thousands to suffer for my evil.”

“Even…even if those around you pay the price?” Iuchar asked, each word sounding weaker and weaker. “If you live and continue this path…we will not be the first you lose…”

Iucharba swallowed thickly. He thought of Larcei and wondered what he would do if Julius went after her. If his own actions would cause her downfall as they did here.

At the same time, what would she say to that? Would she concede and decide to give up for the sake of her own life, cower in the possibility of death? There was no way she would. So, “If it comes to that, yes.”

Iucharba took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “What did you always say to fight for, Iuchar? Your fancy sayings…for love and justice, right?”

Iuchar blinked in surprise, but a tired, but content look settled on his face. “Hah…yes. For love…and justice…”

Sounds of Brian battling Julius echoed throughout the hall. Shouts of anger, blasts of explosions, and the clashing of steel tried to drown them out. However, Iucharba refused to be distracted as his brother grabbed his hand tightly.

Iuchar gasped out the last word, and with it, his arm went limp. Iucharba let it fall along with the rest of his limbs, cradling the body gently as the life bled out of it.

“Rah!” Brian swung Helswath at Julius, obliterating a nearby pillar in a single strike when Julius deftly avoided it. The emperor seems unimpeded by Brian’s best efforts, as the warrior attacked again and again. Wide, powerful swings swiftly cut through everything around them. Yet as Iucharba watched from the corner of his eye, a glancing blow by the Helswath struck Julius’ side, yet instead of opening a deadly wound, the emperor merely stumbled back and shrugged it off.

The power of Loptous. It eclipsed even Helswath, which Iucharba had never seen anyone take one blow from and live.

Brian lunged forward, cleaving the battle ax down. Julius merely moved the dark tome up above his head. Despite seemingly being made of leather and paper, the book of Loptous went and blocked Helswath head-on.

Yet the ax did not cut through the book, stuck in place as it wobbled on the cover of the tome. Brian gritted his teeth, trying with all his might to push through and cut through the tome, to no avail. Julius calmly summoned dark energy in his palm, forcing Brian to abort and jump away as the emperor released another blast of darkness at him. 

Brian gasped for breath, using Helswath as a crutch. He wouldn’t be able to fight much longer, and everyone knew as such. Iucharba had seen his brother single-handedly destroy an army before, but Julius was unfazed at everything Brian threw at him. The emperor stood casually in front of him, looking as menacing as he was disinterested. 

“Just wait…” Brian declared through heaves of deep breaths. He readied Helswath once more. “Just you wait! I’m not done yet…”

“Are you finished?” Julius asked, unimpressed by his bravado. “There’s no use in pretending.”

“Brian!” Iucharba called out, his voice thick with emotion. 

“Stay back!” Brian shouted back, not even turning around to face him.

“Enough of this,” Julius growled. He opened the book letting dark shadows escape from it and wrap around him like a cocoon. “You will die. Now.”

“Raaaaaggh!” Brian charged forward, intending to stop Julius’ attack before he could fully unleash it. Iucharba watched in awe as each step left cracks in the floor. He hadn’t landed a solid hit the entire battle, but if he could just get close enough…!

Iucharba looked quickly at Julius, still surrounded by shadows. The emperor basked in the growing shadows with his eyes closed, raising his right hand to gather dark energy. The energy began to form into something…but he wouldn’t make it in time, Iucharba realized. Brian could do it.

“Haaaaah!” Brian leaped forward, bringing Helswath down with all his might. And just inches away from Julius’ skull, the emperor’s eyes snapped open.

“...Hmph.” At that moment, his hand, covered in a dark aura, thrust forward at the charging warrior in a flourish.

The two behemoths clashed in an explosion, and Iucharba cried out in surprise as he was almost knocked over by the force, rushing to take cover behind one of the few remaining pillars. As it calmed, Iucharba hastily ran out to see the result. 

The two men stood on the steps to the throne, Brian looming over Julius, his axe outstretched. Yet, the blade did not reach Julius.

The same could not be said the other way around. Julius’ hand extended five dark blades of energy, like a dragon’s claw. And each talon pierced through Brian, suspending him in the air. 

“Gah…ack!” Brian coughed, sending blood toward the emperor. Julius let it fall on his face, letting his skin be covered in red. 

“No…!” Iucharba whispered in a shocked dismay. 

“In the end…you failed to do anything you said. You will die, and so will everyone around you.” Julius intoned, scarily emotionless. Not a single trace of hesitation, remorse, or uneasiness. A malice so natural it was terrifying…

“I…I said it before…” Brian choked out, staring the emperor dead in the eyes. “And I’ll say it…now…I won’t go down so easy!” 

With a battle cry punctuating the last words, Brian rammed Helswath forward, burying the blade into Julius’ chest.

“Aaagh!” The emperor shouted out in surprise and pain. He cried out again as Brian pushed the blade further into his body, even though it made Julius’ claws dig even deeper into his own wounds.

With a roar of pain and anger, Julius slashed at Brian with his other hand, spectral dragon claws tearing away flesh and skin. Iucharba felt sick as blood sprinkled left and right like a rainy day. Yet Brian gritted his teeth and kept forcing the blade down, slowly breaking down the protective barriers of Loptous’ magic.

“How…dare you! Stop! It…hurts…! Gaaah!” The emperor’s dark, inhumane voice suddenly became a vulnerable, almost childlike wail, more human than Iucharba ever heard or could imagine.

What was this? Why was he changing so suddenly? The darkness was dissipating, the malevolent aura was fading. Iucharba wasn’t sure what was happening…but he couldn’t just stand and watch!

Iucharba gently laid Iuchar’s body down, rushing forward toward the two combatants. “Brian!”

His brother’s focus did not waver the slightest. Julius, however, flickered his gaze at him. However, it did not send chills of fear this time. Instead, Iucharba saw fear, regret, and shame.

With a final pained cry, Julius thrust his hand into the air. A bright light radiated from it, forcing Iucharba to look away. In a flash…the emperor had vanished. 

He’s gone… Iucharba hadn’t seen him use a staff at all. What he did see, was his older brother on one knee, Helswath still in his hand. 

“Brian?” Iucharba gingerly shook his brother on the shoulder. “You…you won—”

As soon as he shook his brother, everything completely collapsed. Brian’s arm fell limp, sending Helswath crashing to the ground. His shoulder slumped, and Brian tumbled to the ground, unmoving.

“B-Brian?” Iucharba quietly whispered, as if that would change anything. He looked at the Helswath at the ground, deserted.

Damn it…damn it! Brian died too! They all were. All because of him! Iucharba had prepared himself for death, yet he stupidly only thought he would be the one to suffer for his choices! 

He was a coward again, in the end. When Julius actually retaliated, he was frozen and afraid. He ran when Brian told him to, stood in trembles as his brother died to protect him and make the emperor retreat.

Iucharba didn’t do anything…he wasn’t a hero that did good…he was a coward.

Iucharba stared at the ground, unsure whether he wanted to break into tears, scream at the sky, or some mixture of both. It didn’t matter; no matter how much he cried or raged it wouldn’t change things. How useless he was!

Iucharba gritted his teeth, his eyes bright with tears and wrath. They raced back and forth, landing on a certain battleax. The symbol of Dozel, the insignia of their dukedom's strength and power. Before he knew it, Iucharba’s hands had grasped around the handle.

It was heavy, but not impossible to lift. Iucharba grunted as he held it high, arms burning under the weight. This was why only Brian and Danan could use it…their Major Holy Blood!

Iucharba knew what he had to try to do. He breathed in and out heavily, emotion bursting from his exhales. With tears in his eyes, the warrior screamed out to the world. “GOD OF DOZEL! DRAGON OF THE AX! HEAR MY VENGEANCE AND ANSWER ME!”

A stupid idea, based on old fairy tales and legends. Yet Iucharba screamed to the skies without hesitation. For what did he have to lose…what choice did he have? And for a moment, the shout echoed throughout the ruined halls with nothing to show for it.

But slowly, light began gathering around the ax. Iucharba heard a dragon roar out of nowhere, and a large figure sprung out of the ax in a flash of gold right as Iucharba’s arms gave out and dropped the ax back on the ground. The spirit seemed to be completely made of light, from her long braided hair to her scale-like armor.

“Ah…has it been a long time. I am Sif, goddess of the Helswath. You were the one who called, I see.”

“I am,” Iucharba responded, in a slight daze. He was honestly astonished, but with so many emotions rolling inside him, it was difficult to express awe or shock. “You…you answered.”

“Only since I felt the presence of Loptous here.” The tall ghost-like woman glared at the broken throne behind her, where Julius had disappeared. Her gaze was as fierce as a dragon's as it swept over the ruined castle, which Iucharba supposed only made sense. “Gone already? And seems he’s caused quite some damage…I can still feel his wretched darkness.”

She looked disgusted at that last part, her semi-transparent face contorting angrily. Sif noted Brian’s corpse at her feet, frowning pensively. “He has my blood…but he is dead. Are you the only…?”

“I am.” Iucharba nodded quickly. “Emperor Julius killed them all…”

“I don’t know this Julius, but I do recognize Loptous’ power.” The specter grumbled. “Damned earth dragon! Back again and causing his troubles! We must put him down!”

“That’s why I called you, Lady Sif.” Iucharba hastily said, desperately trying to interject his case. He quickly wiped away at his face, hot with tears. Honestly, Iucharba couldn't believe he had made it this far on such a whimsical idea...but there was no time to waste! He had to make the most of this! “I have to make things right…I can’t let him get away with this!”

“We agree there. Loptous must be eradicated completely this time, he and his descendants.” The ghost nodded. “But what do you want me to do? My power resides in the ax. And I do not sense any others with my blood…he was the last, was he not?”

“I–I have your blood!” Iucharba cried out, almost pleading now. “And I still live! With your help, I can–”

“Can what? You do have my blood, I suppose, but not enough to use my power.” The woman narrowed her eyes. “The Helswath will do you no good.”

“I know, and that’s why…that’s why I wish to make a geas with you, dragon of the ax.” Iucharba explained. 

Sif blinked in surprise, seemingly taken aback. She hesitated for a moment, processing the information.“...Are you sure? It does not come without consequence, you realize.”

“I’m sure.” Iucharba resolutely said. A geas did not come free, and though records of one were slim, they always came at a price. The binding contract had to go both ways. Sometimes, it was taking away something from the person. Or, limiting them from doing something. “I will pay the price, as long as it is mine to pay and no one else's.”

“...Very well. Then I will grant you a geas.” The god-warrior nodded, both her and Iucharba solemn in agreement. “I will give you my blood…enough for you to wield the Helswath. In exchange, you will find out the reason for Loptous’ return, and eradicate it so that it may never happen again. Dedicate your life to removing the root of the evil.”

Iucharba fell silent, shocked thoughts rushing through his mind. Find the reason for Loptous’ return. Not to kill him? The dragon-goddess must have some other plan through the geas…Iucharba just wasn’t sure what. 

“Now take up the ax…and fulfill your contract.” With those words, the golden ghost whisked back into the Helswath. Iucharba stared at the space it had left for a good few seconds, waiting for something to happen.

When nothing did, Iucharba looked at the Helswath. The ax looked as normal as Iucharba felt about himself. No sparkles, no glow, nothing. So slowly, he reached down to the ax…and grabbed the handle.

When he tried to lift it this time, it was as light as a feather.

Chapter Text

778, three months after the Loptrian Coup

“Got it! It’s open.” Lara declared triumphantly, withdrawing her lockpick from the door and giving Ced an excited nod. 

She stepped away from the door, and Ced eyed the doors warily, shooting a quick glance at Asbel. “So you’re sure he’s gone?” 

Behind him, Asbel quickly nodded his head in confirmation. “He left this morning for Kelves’ Gate.”

Ced placed a tentative hand on the metal doors, cracking it open slightly. This backdoor directly went to the lower dungeons of Munster Castle. From here they could rescue all the children that Raydrick had captured…but something about what Asbel said made him pause.

Ced frowned. Kelves’ Gate was a fortress that directly preceded Munster. It was the city’s first line of defense, so Raydrick going there meant he believed there was a threat of intruders or invaders. 

But that didn’t make any sense at all. “Why would he be going to the Gate? Is he expecting an attack on Munster?”

“Does it matter right now?” Machuya questioned, slightly exasperated. She impatiently pushed open the doors, revealing stairs that led to an empty hallway, just as expected. “Raydrick will be gone for at least a few weeks. Now we don’t have to worry about him when getting in or out.”

“...Right.” Ced agreed, pushing the thought away for now. “We’ll follow the regular plan then. Machuya, Lara, and Brighton will lead us to the main cells and get the children out. Asbel and I will head deeper into the dungeon to hold off reinforcements and check the reserve cells.”

“Very well.” Brighton, already dismounted, drew his sword. “Then I’ll go on ahead, Prince Ced!”

He ran down the stairs, leading the Magi down while Ced just sighed. “I keep telling you not to call me that…”

He watched as the rest of the Magi followed, leaving himself the last one lingering, still staring at the bleak entrance. Ced hesitated, uneasiness stirring in his stomach. He could feel an aura of darkness down there, something that wasn’t there before. Something wasn’t right here.

Ced shook away his nagging anxiety, as it was irrational to worry with such urgency right now. For the people of Munster, he had to do this. They needed hope, after being in subjugation and oppression for so long. Ced couldn’t ignore them, especially as their suffering increased daily thanks to Raydrick’s cruel nature. It was in his blood; Ced knew he couldn’t help but aid those in need. 

The mark on his hand was proof of it, but Ced couldn’t help but stare disdainfully at it right now. The power of Forseti rested in his veins, and because of it, everyone expected him to be a hero. Ced felt nothing like a hero. His good work here was all because of coincidence, trying to find Lewyn.

Father can wait. Ced reminded himself. He had priorities.

He took out an Elthunder from his collection of various tomes. Not his specialty, but that should suffice for now.

Ced ran into the prison, quickly catching up to his comrades. They were already well at work, identifying and releasing child prisoners. He could see Lara dashing around, leaving unlocked doors swinging open as she passed. How she was so quick with her pick, Ced could never fathom.

“There’s more over here!” Machuya’s voice rang out from the other side, and the thief ran toward her, passing Brighton, who diligently directed and organized the freed children.

“Don’t worry, children. We’ll get you all out of here and back to your parents in no time.”

Brighton and the rest of the Magi were hard at work, some gently reassuring and comforting newly released children while others began guiding them out of their cells. As they ushered them toward the exit, Ced approached, and the children’s budding excitement only grew as they saw him.

“It’s Prince Ced!” 

“The Magi really came!” 

“I told you he would save us! He always does!” A boy cheered.

“Yeah!” Next to him, a girl agreed, jumping up and down in excitement. “He’s saved me three times already!” 

While Ced couldn’t help but smile at their jubilation, a nauseous feeling slowly took hold as they continued to talk. Like they had just said, some of these kids had been captured before, and Ced recognized a few too. 

The children seemed fine now, but what if Raydrick came for them again? Threw them in cramped cells that no child ever should have to be in, making them sit in darkness until inevitably sending them off to Belhalla? 

They had already gone through the fear and terror of being separated from their family by force, chained behind bars with no idea what would happen to them. The experience would be traumatic even to the most stubborn of children, and Ced gritted his teeth at the thought of it happening again.

“If I can help it, you will never need saving again.” Ced gently told the children, kneeling in front of them to reach their eye level. “I’ll do my best to ensure that you kids can live carefree and happy lives, and not have to worry about Raydrick or his men.”

“You’re going to drive Raydrick from Munster?!” One of the older kids, perhaps 10 years old, asked in hushed awe.

“With all my will.” Ced nodded, looking grave. “And by whatever means I have to.”

They all oohed and aahed, however much they understood. Ced stood, letting the children continue their way out. “Stay safe, all of you.”

Then he was off, heading deeper into the prison. He passed more children in cells, eagerly awaiting their release as the Magi fiddled with their locks. Ced also saw other prisoners, bandits, and more. He ignored them, and they did the same. Ced had no reason to free them; he had no idea who they were or what they did. And to their credit, they’ve stopped asking for him to help either.

Asbel was up ahead, with three unconscious bodies around him. “Those the guards?”

“Yes!” Asbel confirmed breathlessly, a smile on his face, clearly proud of himself.

“Nice job. You’ve improved a lot, Asbel.” Ced congratulated his student. “Any reinforcements yet?”

“Nope.” 

“Then let’s keep going.” 

And as they ventured into the reserve prisons, they took out the next guards quickly with blasts of magic. It seemed whoever was in charge of the castle right now still hadn’t realized their presence, or if he had, hadn’t sent any backup troops.

Ced sent one more soldier flying back with a blast of Elthunder, the residual lightning scorching another empty cell. The reserve cells were seldom occupied, and Ced hadn’t seen a single prisoner here in all their missions. However, he wasn’t willing to take any chances.

Asbel wiped the sweat off his brow. “Whew! We’ve almost reached the end, Prince Ced!”

“Good.” Ced nodded back. “Just the last ones then.”

At the end of the prison was a junction hallway. To the left were the stair steps to the ground floor, leading up to Munster castle’s interior. With a quick check, Ced confirmed the doors at the end were still shut. They still had time.

To the right was a short pathway that led to the last few cells in the prison. Ced looked over at Asbel. “Stay here and watch the door. I’ll check the last cells. I shouldn’t be long.”

Asbel nodded, and Ced walked to the right. His steps echoed through the quiet chamber, with the faint sounds of the Magi and children sounding far behind him. The pages of his tome flipped back and forth, reflecting Ced’s anxiousness.

Why was he worried? There should be nothing here, just another empty cell to check. But there was a faint bloodlust in the air, a shadow of evilness hanging subtly in the air. Ced gulped inaudibly, his steps becoming slower and slower. The last cell was Just around the corner, and Ced was beginning to realize it was definitely not empty.

CLASH!

Ced jumped, biting his tongue down to stop himself from crying out. His limbs tensed tenfold, and Ced felt the unmistakable presence of hostility. With trembling hands, he put away Elthunder and took out Forseti instead. The Holy tome glowed in the dark corridor, and Ced approached, ready to use it.

He turned the corner and was immediately struck with the sound of labored breathing. Each breath carried heavy exhaustion and anger, yet that didn’t stop the sword from clashing rhythmically against the bars of the cell. As his eyes met a fiery purple gaze that pierced through the dimness, Ced fought the urge to flinch. Before him stood a prisoner, but not a child — a girl his own age, her dark hair matted against an unnaturally pale face, glistening with sweat.

“Kill….KILL!” She yelled hoarsely, slashing at the bars again with a dark purple blade.

Ced winced as the harsh sound of metal clashing assaulted his ears, drowning out everything else. “Who are you?!”

“Must…kill!”

She roared senselessly as if not even hearing his words. Ced raised Forseti and sent a harsh stream of wind forward, sending her stumbling back from the bars. She fixed her gaze on him, a nonsensical mesh of hate and madness. 

At least she wasn’t screaming anymore, though. “What’s your name?”

Ced tried to keep his voice steady, but it wasn’t reassuring when her hands clenched tighter around that sword. That blade radiated evil energy, and it was what had been unnerving Ced ever since he stepped into this prison.

However, to his surprise, she responded slowly, with a dark, raspy whisper. “My…name? Who…am I? My head…”

She grasped her head, gasping in pain. She glared at him balefully through the pain, hissing, “Wh-who…are you?”

“My name is Ced.”

“Gah…doesn’t matter.” She choked out, raising her sword that seemed to drain all the light around it. “With this sword…kill everyone…”

“Why?” Ced didn’t know why, but he tried to reason with her clearly addled mind. “Your sword does not need to be used for murder. It can be a tool for something more important!”

“More important…? Swords are good for war…they shed blood on the field and slaughter its prey…what else would it do?”

“It can protect people. Protect your loved ones. That is far more important.” Ced insisted, eyeing her warily. 

He didn’t know who this girl was, but something was definitely wrong with her. Her behavior was unnatural and strangely malicious…was it her sword?

“Far more important…to protect?” She suddenly gasped, grabbing her head. “She—she said…that too! But…my loved ones…? I—I can’t remember!”

She seemed frightened all of a sudden, and Ced couldn’t understand any of it, only that she was suffering. What was he supposed to do?

“There’s…nothing…! Mother…father…” Tears dripped from her eyes, and the girl collapsed to her knees.

Ced stared, dumbfounded. She went from a raging monster to a murderous villain, to a…scared young girl. And even after collapsing with heavy sobs, she did not let go of her sword.

That sword…something was up with it. Ced touched the bars of the cell, tracing the scratches of her furious attacks. Despite the scars, those bars stood suspiciously firm, and there was no lock, either. However, on the ground was a runic pattern, drawn with a red substance. A warp circle…made with blood.

This was a maximum security cell, likely reinforced with dark magic. Not even Ced could do anything about this, for he had no Rescue staff. Only the person who made that warp circle could enter and leave that cell willingly.

As she cried quietly, he stayed silent, realizing he couldn’t do anything to help her. But he had no idea who she was and how dangerous she could be, so even if Ced had the means to help her, he wasn’t sure if he should do so. However, the realization didn’t lessen the feeling of helplessness. 

Ced was starting to understand with the little he gathered from the conversation. This girl was a puppet of that blade, perhaps one of Raydrick’s despicable schemes or experiments. Her memories were disoriented, and the pain in her head was likely caused by her fighting to remember and stay sane. She had a mother, a father…people she loved, people to protect. 

He stayed with her for far too long, until Asbel finally appeared and dragged him away. She fixed her gaze on Ced’s as he left, and no longer did they hold immense anger and hate. Instead, they were filled with anguish and desperation, like a silent cry for help. 

How could Ced ignore that pain?

“Is he okay?” Asbel whispered to Machuya, watching Ced pace back and forth in their base.

Machuya just narrowed her eyes, analyzing their leader. Asbel didn’t tell anyone about the insane prisoner, and Ced asked him to keep it a secret. But curiously, it seemed to weigh very much on the prince, and Asbel wondered what exactly happened while he left Ced alone.

“Raydrick will still be gone for at least a week and a half.” Ced suddenly said. “That gives us enough time for two, maybe even three easy missions to the castle.”

Asbel exchanged a look with Machuya. “Uh, that might be pushing it a little…”

“Even without Raydrick present, there will still be child hunts. Maybe one in the next few days, so we’d have to put surveillance on the castle…” The green-haired prince mumbled, uncharacteristically jittery. “Where’s Lara?”

“She’s resting.” Machuya grabbed Ced’s shoulders, lightly shaking him to attention. “Just like you should be. We can talk about further missions later.”

Though he didn’t seem very happy about it, Ced exhaled in a resigned sigh. “Alright. I’ll head out, then.”

Machuya nodded approvingly as Ced reluctantly made his way to the door of their home base. “See you—“

Ced’s farewell died in his throat as he opened the door, and a dozen armored guards (Munster attire, he recognized) greeted him right outside with spears in hand. One immediately began calling an order, “You’re—!“

Ced didn't let him finish, conjuring a fierce gale to slam the door in their face. He braced his hands against the wooden door, summoning the raging wind to keep it shut as the irate soldiers pounded against the shaking frame. 

“Get the rest of the Magi!” Ced shouted over the roar of the windstorm around him. 

Machuya and Asbel gaped in shock, and Ced grunted in struggle as the walls began to shake. “Hurry!”

Machuya, ever the reliable, snapped to attention. She sprinted away, her shouts fading into the wind. Asbel pulled out Grafcalibur hastily, fingers shakily prying open the book’s cover.

Ced locked eyes with his pupil and nodded. He focused his control on the wind, and shouted, “Three, two, one, now!”

Immediately, he let loose his force on the door and the wind carried him back, letting the soldiers crash through the doorway and send wooden splinters everywhere. Before they could get they could even stand, Asbel summoned the blades of air from Grafcalibur, cutting into the soldiers. They shouted in panic, trying to make commands, but the wind drowned out their voices. Asbel didn’t let up, sending more sharp zephyrs flying at them, as they frantically tried to raise their shields in defense.

They began to organize into a sloppy formation, trying to cover their flanks. Unfortunately for them, Ced saw no reason to even humor them and opened the book of Forseti. The air crackled with ancient energy, and all Ced needed was a small flick of his wrist. Instantly, seven soldiers were lifted off their feet and thrown the wall at such a velocity that cracks splintered at their impact. The wind swirled around Ced like a hurricane, and he was the eye of the storm, the harbinger of their destruction. 

They had no chance. The wrathful wind was a disaster for them, but to Ced, it gave strength and solace. The storm clung to him like a second skin, and it was times like these where Ced truly felt free , a liberation he could not find elsewhere.

With Asbel by his side, Ced quickly finished off the last few soldiers, sending them hurtling out the broken doorway. He calmed the wind, letting the roaring storm fade to a faint howl. “That was a scouting party.”

It was an obvious thing to point out, but Asbel understood the implications behind it. “They found us again? How?”

Ced shrugged, trying not to dwell on the disconcerting fact. “Let’s find the others first.”

They ran through the building, and it wasn’t long till they came across the back door, where Machuya and Brighton evacuating the Magi Squad. Around them lay the bodies of more Munster soldiers. “What happened?”

“They almost pincered us, looks like.” Machuya grimaced. “I took the liberty of ordering an abandonment.”

“It’s the best decision.” Ced immediately agreed. “There’s no way such a ruckus will go unnoticed. It’s only a matter of time before we’re swarmed.”

The last few Magi ran out the door, leaving the four of them to bring up the rear. 

“Lara’s scouting the path ahead for any traps or ambushes.” Brighton gruffly added. “In a few minutes, there’ll be no trace of us in this district.”

“I guess I’ll have to make this quick, then.” A new voice muttered from behind them, and Ced spun around.

A veritable giant stood in front of them, and Ced couldn’t believe how quietly he had approached them with his size. A master sword hung at his belt, dragging across the floor as he walked. Silver hair drooped over his dull gray eyes, and something about them made Ced pause.

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” The man airily dismissed, drawing his sword with a flourish that came from years of experience.

Behind him, Machuya shakily hissed, “You’re the new mercenary, aren’t you? The one named…Galzus.”

Something about the way she said it made Ced shudder. There was no doubt about it, just from his poise. This man was dangerous. “You’re working for Raydrick?”

"Sure. He asked me to get rid of some pesky rebels. These hands are already stained with so much blood…" Galzus halted, a fleeting glimpse of regret shadowing his expression. Yet, in an instant, it vanished, replaced by simple apathy. "What's a little more?"

I see…darkness. Darkness means pain. Pain means anger. Anger means to kill.

Kill them all. Kill them all. Kill them all.

No! Stop it!

Don’t…lose. Keep…fighting…the shadow!

I will…walk the right path. The path of…the sword!

Sword… sword…

Swords are weapons. Swords shed blood. Swords…destroy!

But …that’s not the reason…I picked up my sword…?

Why did I?

Who am I?

The daughter…I am the daughter…of…?

I want…to be like her…to grow…stronger…

Strong…strength? With this strength…I can take my blade, and coat it in blood…and with this sword…kill every last one!

Or…to protect? Who…told me that? The… green-haired boy? What was…his name? I can’t…remember…

But…he said it was…more important. He said…to protect…protect who?

Loved ones? I don’t…know…? 

Agh…it hurts!

This is wrong! I need to take control…! To protect…those I love! I can’t…give up…

It’s too much…I can’t…I can’t stop it! 

This cursed sword! Aaa aAAAAGH!

. ..

Someone…please help me…save me…

Why can’t I…escape? Why does this sword…control me so? 

Am I…too weak?

I need to be strong. This sword…it m a k e s m e s t r o n g … it gives me power…

I want to be strong…and spill their blood! To drive my sword…into the heart of those I hate…

The temperature dropped to freezing degrees as Ced summoned a chilly blizzard, but the cold did nothing to stop the seemingly invincible force of nature that was Galzus, the mercenary.

With one swift cleave of his claymore, Galzus disarmed Brighton and followed it up with an inhumanly fast kick to the ribs, sending him flying out the open back door. 

“Brighton!” Machuya screamed as he crashed outside, and she lunged.

Galzus casually parried her strike and swung his sword with so much speed that it seemed like it slashed through the storm itself. If Ced hadn’t pulled her back with an equally fast whirlwind, then it would have been over for her.

Ced glanced at Brighton’s collapsed body outside. He grabbed Machuya’s arm before she could attack again, saying, “Leave with Brighton and make sure the Magi escape! I’ll buy you some time!”

She looked at him incredulously with a clear denial forming on her tongue, but Ced simply pushed her through the doorway with the wind and then slammed the door shut. “Asbel! Slow him down with the blades!”

Grafcalibur was one of Ced’s favorite tomes, giving something that the intangible air rarely had: a form. With enough proficiency, the wind could become a forest of blades at the user’s disposal and command. Asbel had come a long way since Ced took him as a pupil, and he did not disappoint.

Growling with annoyance now, Galzus spun his blade left and right, deflecting the blades of wind with frightening accuracy. Asbel tried to surround him with blades from every direction, but pinpointing the release of spells took extraordinary control over magic. 

Fortunately, it was enough to halt Galzus’ advance for the time being. Ced put his hands together, letting the wind funnel and gather between his palms. The hurricane began to die down as it all concentrated into a refined, focused, sphere of green energy. 

“Hurry!” Asbel shouted, stumbling back as Galzus began to make ground again. 

He sent more sharp gales at the mercenary, but Galzus closed the distance shockingly quickly. With no more wind to keep him restrained, his only deterrence was Grafcalibur’s blades. 

“Not yet.” Ced hissed, letting the wind energy build exponentially in his hold. The trapped power threatened to burst, which would destroy everything in its wake. But considering who they were facing, Ced knew it wasn’t enough. “Just a little more…!”

His arms throbbed as Forseti’s cover began to grow uncomfortably warm, despite the chilly wind. 

Asbel generated a large shaft of wind like an axeblade, right behind Galzus, his blind spot. He brought it down with the force of a guillotine, but the man was a demon, launching into a front flip to evade the zephyr that left gashes in the ground.

He landed in a crouch, back faced to them, and suddenly the back of his cloak fell away, slashed by the wind. Ced almost thought he was wearing something underneath, but the black mark was no clothing. It was an ancient pattern on the mercenary’s skin. 

The mark of the Crusader Od. Ced almost lost concentration, the wind howling dangerously. A full-blooded royal from Isaach?! Galzus turned his head, noticing the rip, and met Ced’s eyes.

Reading his expression, the mercenary sneered. Asbel seemed at a loss for words, stammering, “A crusader…of the Sword Saint?”

“I’m no crusader or saint.” Galzus’ eyes were hard as stone. “Just someone who’s stained with blood.”

“Why are you working with Raydrick? You’re a prince of Isaach, or at least one in the past!” Ced called out. 

Galzus didn’t look pleased at that. “Bold to assume. There’s nothing to gain from digging in my past. I no longer do.”

He sprinted forward, but Ced had bought enough time. “Spirit of wind…guide me!”

He cast the sphere of energy at Galzus’ feet, and the result was immediate. A raging tornado erupted to life right in the mercenary’s path, tearing pieces off the surrounding walls from its circling winds.

Ced and Asbel stumbled, but as wind mages, they adapted to their element quickly, maintaining their balance in the air currents. Galzus did not have the same fortune, and quickly lost his footing to the swirling typhoon, swept into the gale. He spun uncontrollably in the air, struggling to break free of the artificial twister. 

“Let’s go!” Ced ordered.

If looks could kill, Galzus would have incinerated the two on the spot. Thankfully, he was too preoccupied with being tossed around like beans in maraca, allowing the two mages a swift escape out the doorway. Ced kept a firm grip on the tome of Forseti, sustaining the magic tornado as long as possible. 

The sounds of raging wind and crashing debris echoed behind them, but Ced didn’t look back. This was the third time they had to move bases this month. While Galzus was certainly a new factor, frankly, this was just another day of standing up to the evils of the empire, and bearing the consequences of it.

But if Ced taking on the wrath of Raydrick and his men could divert it from the citizens of Munster, then there was no reason to stop.

Her head was hurting less now. That was good, right? Maybe if she stopped fighting the sword completely, there wouldn’t be any pain…then she could be strong! Then she could finally shed blood with her blade…

“Gah…more waiting…” The girl muttered, her eyes flaring with evil fire. “I need prey…”

She glared at the bars, which stood stubbornly firm despite the hundreds of times she must have struck them with her blade. Why wouldn’t they break!? Was she still not strong enough, even with the sword?!?

“Grrrah!” In a sudden rage, she leaped at the cell bars again, slamming the Shadow Sword against it, to no avail.

She seethed, seeing clouds of red. She screamed in an incoherent rage, but the cell stood uncaring and foreboding. Her throat hoarse, the girl sat back down in a heap of frustration. There was no blood to shed, no prey to hunt, no battles to war. What was the point of her strength!? 

She suddenly heard gentle steps, almost like the air itself cushioned their feet. Who was this? 

Ah. It was the green-haired boy again. She chuckled, the maniacal laugh shaking her body. “You…have returned? Hah…do you have a death wish?”

She couldn’t quite place his name, but that green hair was quite memorable. Colors were recognizable, especially the red of blood. Names were less important, all muddled in her mind and vision. Faces, words, memories…all those seemed to be mixed into a haze of blood and slaughter. 

She scowled, her head pounding. “What are you doing here?”

He just stared at her. “You’re calmer today. You remember me, too. Do you remember anything else?”

“Only darkness!” She spat, springing to her feet and reveling in the way he stepped back in fright. He feared her power…good. “But the darkness is my strength…so I can kill them all! Maybe I should start with you…”

“Please don’t.” He spoke calmly, despite looking unnerved just a moment ago. “Your power shouldn’t be used to kill. That is not true strength.”

“True strength?” She laughed hoarsely. “There is the strong kill the weak, and that is the only strength!”

She slashed her blade at him, but the bars protected him, lucky boy. If they weren’t there, she would gut him and spill his blood on the floor, filling the cell with the fresh scent of death…he knew this, didn’t he? He must…why was he not afraid of death? Did he truly have a death wish?

“I don’t have much time before Asbel comes to get me.” The boy murmured, looking conflicted. “I’ll explain quickly again then. True strength is not the power to kill, it is the ability to protect others from harm! Most especially, to protect those that you love!”

Why did that sound familiar? He had said it twice now, was that why? No…what was it?

‘Remember, the way of the sword is not of violence and death. It’s to protect others, and to protect your loved ones. That is why I wield my sword, to protect you. And that is why you should wield your sword too.’

What was that?! Who had said that to her? It felt so long ago…she couldn’t remember! The girl gasped, her hand flying to her throbbing head. It hurt…but she had to try to remember. Those words…they were important to her!

“Way of the sword…aaagh! Head…hurts!” She hissed in pain. 

Her addled mind was rejecting her attempts to remember, becoming earsplitting pain. Her sword started to become fiery hot in her hand, but she still couldn’t drop it; it was as if it was part of her now. “I…have to kill…!”

“No. You have a choice!” The boy argued, and she wondered why he sounded so passionate about this.

A choice? There was only one choice…kill or be killed. That was the only choice that mattered in war…

He came closer, grabbing the bars. His face was close enough now she could touch it if she just reached through the gaps. Close enough for her blade to reach him and slaughter… “That sword is controlling you. You have to fight it!”

“Why should I?” She snarled at him, fighting the shattered memories piercing her mind. “The sword gives me power, gives me strength to destroy those who stand against me!”

“Even if they were the ones you hold dear?” He cried back, and she paused. “If you lose control, you will hurt those around you…not your enemies, but your friends and family!”

Friends…family? Did she have those? “I…”

“Think of your loved ones! Ones that are close to you!” He began to plead, and every word sent flares of pain into her aching head. “Ones that remind you who you are. ”

Who am I?

Who are the ones I hold dear?

My…my mother?

I am…I am…! I am the…daughter of Eyv–

Her sword trembled, and her blade suddenly lurched forward, her arm moving by instinct. He stumbled back with a cry as blood spurted from his shoulder, and the girl immediately recoiled in panic, guilt rising. Suddenly, the bloodlust that had seemed to always accompany her seemed to recede, fading into the air. “I’m…sorry! Please…I’m so sorry!”

He stared at her, hand over his wound. “It’s…not a serious or deep wound.”

The faint scent of blood reached her, and she shuddered as the sword yearned for more blood. He stepped toward again, and her eyes widened in horror. “D–don’t! Stay back! Don’t come near!”

He looked shocked, but she knew it wasn’t long until the bloodlust returned, clouding her mind once more into nothing but hate and malice. “My mind…won’t be clear for long…!”

“Keep fighting it.” He quietly pleaded. “Please. You have to.”

“I will.” She weakly said, but even as she did her will was faltering. The shadow sword burned with need, a need for blood and slaughter. “You…thank you…for reminding me…”

“I wish I could help you more.” His voice was heavy with regret. “I don’t know how to help you escape.”

“Even if I could…I can’t escape this accursed sword.” She gazed down at the sword despairingly. “Maybe…my heart is too weak.”

“Don’t say that. You’re already fighting it as much as you can.” 

She winced, feeling the flames of bloodlust and madness blaze to life. She panted as she forced it back down. Collapsing to the hard floor, she tried to focus on something other than the imminent darkness…like those shining green eyes.

“I still…have people to protect…so I won’t ever stop fighting this…I promise.” She shuddered, each breath becoming more and more labored. “I can’t keep this back much longer…I’ll go insane…”

“What can I do…?” The boy seemed to be asking the question to himself as much as he was asking her, brow furrowed in desperation.

“Just…don’t leave me…” She pleaded, and she cracked a weak smile. “I won’t kill you…”

He slowly returned the smile, and sat down with her, across the bars. She focused her gaze on him, like a beacon in a bleak night. It was all she could do to distract from the calls of the Shadow Sword.

Still, her vision began to blur, and the pounding in her head strengthened. The voices began to call for her to kill and destroy once more, to shed blood and slaughter the hordes…

Oh…she forgot to ask again…

The boy…what…was his name…?

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: For Freedom and Family

779, four months after the Loptrian Coup

“So, you’re the Prince of Leonster?” The man in the back looked impressed. “You got captured trying to teach Raydrick a lesson, huh? I have to respect that.”

“It’s not just that.” Leif felt obligated to add. “I have to rescue my friends. They were captured by Raydrick.”

Munster’s soldiers had unceremoniously dumped Leif into this cell with two others. Fergus, a sellsword who had a bone to pick with the empire. And Karin, a pegasus knight from Silesse that somehow ended up here.

“Weren’t we all?” Fergus snorted. “If they’re not here, though, they’re up in the arena. Entertaining Raydrick and his guests.”

Anxiety twisted at Leif’s heart. Nanna, Eyvel, and Mareeta… “Guests?”

“Loptrians.” Karin cut in, looking disgusted. “They're here to pick up the children for the hunts. The emperor’s mad, I tell you.”

Emperor Julius…how his name had spread far and wide in so little time. The Loptrians had returned in the blink of an eye by his hand, and soon the empire devolved into the nightmarish stories of the tyranny centuries ago. Many even called Julius the eighteenth Gair emperor. Everything he saw here, the child hunts and atrocities of Dozel and Eda, was due to that one man. Despicable.

Leif focused on the cell doors—one step at a time. Before even thinking about taking on the emperor, or even Raydrick, Leif had to get out of this damn cell.

“Got it!” A voice suddenly called from the outside, and the cell door swung open as if by magic.

“Well, well! Prince Leif, somebody’s come to rescue us!”

“Who in the world are they?” 

The three of them rushed out of the cell. A woman handed Leif his Light Brand when he got out. “Machuya, of the Magi. You…you’re Prince Leif, aren’t you?”

“I am. Thank you for saving me.” Leif had heard of the Magi, the local rebellion in Munster. To say he respected them would be a huge understatement. “The Magi…you have done more for Munster than I could ever have.”

“It’s only thanks to our leader, Ced, that we’ve made it this far.” Leif heard Karin squeak behind him for some reason. Ced…where had he heard that name before? “He’s locating the children.”

“We should go help him.”

Another Magi, this one a large man holding an ax, shook his head. “Ced gave us orders to make sure you escape, Prince Leif.”

“Brighton’s right. We don’t have time. Let’s get out of here while we still can.” Machuya agreed.

“I’m not leaving anyone behind!” Leif protested. “And I still have friends in this castle I need to save.”

“You mean him? Lara’s got it.” Machuya pointed behind her. A young girl was unlocking the cell door beside theirs, and out popped Lifis.

After a moment of confusion about why the thief was here, Leif shook his head. “No. They’re likely upstairs.”

Machuya looked troubled. “In the arena, then. But it’s too dangerous.”

“Perhaps we should reconvene with Ced before making any rash decisions.” Brighton suggested. 

The young girl who held a lockpick (Lara, Leif assumed) piped up. “Are you sure? He might be talking to that cursed prisoner again.”

Cursed prisoner?

“Brighton’s right. We should make sure to save the children too.” Machuya decided. “Follow me, Prince Leif.”

She wasn’t there. She was gone.

Ced blasted the guards with wind, not caring if his gusts were more violent than usual.

He was too late.

Ced had been formulating a plan to rescue that girl from the prison for weeks now. All that effort finding a Rescue staff, and for what? The cell was empty when he arrived, with only the scars and burns on the bars indicating it had once been occupied.

It was no use thinking about it now. Ced focused on the battle, covering Asbel as his student unlocked the cells trapping the children. Asbel was in a good mood after Ced had revealed that they were here to free the Prince of Leonster himself.

At least everything else was going to plan. The other Magi showed up with Leif in tow, and they were able to clear out the guards very quickly after that. As Asbel excitedly caught up with his childhood friend, the Magi started herding the children to escape. 

However, Leif didn’t follow them. “There are still three others to save.”

“The prisoners in the arena.” Asbel helpfully supplied.

Ced remembered the guards mentioning them. The arena, where on occasion prisoners who were able to fight fought for Raydrick’s amusement. A stray thought made him pause. Was the girl with the Shadow Sword brought up there too–

“Prince Ced!”

Ced jumped, losing his train of thought. He hadn’t heard that voice in years, but it was still quite familiar. “Karin? What are you doing here?”

“To find you, my prince!”

Ced looked around him nervously, where the remainder of the Magi were now staring at him. “Oh for heaven’s sake…did Fee put you up to this? Or my mother?”

Karin flinched, and her face became somber. “I…I have to tell you something important.”

“Is that so?” A tiny bubble of nervousness rose in Ced’s stomach. “Let’s hear it.”

“The queen, her majesty…she passed away.”

“W-what?” Ced paled. “Mother? She couldn’t have…”

Karin looked away. “I’m afraid so. Two months ago. I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have found out like this, here of all places…” 

Too late, again. Always too late. 

“Please, return to Silesse with me, Prince Ced. Lady Fee is waiting for you.”

“Fee…” Ced hesitated. She must hate him now, for leaving just like their father… “How is she?”

“Lady Fee can put up a tough front for the others, but when it's just me and her, she... she cries till her eyes dry up.” Karin’s expression grew angry. “Lord Ced, with respect, you've done her a great cruelty, runnin' away like you did. You've gone and forced the burden of ruling Silesse onto her. That holy blood in your veins has gone to your head! You're the heir to Forseti's legacy, good for you, but you up and walked out on your mother and sister! Does that sound like what a hero would do?!”

She panted as she finished, short of breath. Ced didn’t want to admit how deep her words cut him, even though she didn’t know the whole story. Still, his voice was barely a murmur as he said, “I thought Father was the only one who could cure Mother’s illness. So I went to find him.”

“Then why are you leading a rebel group in Munster?”

Why was he, indeed? Why was he devoting some much time and effort to people he barely knew if that cost him his mother? If only he had spent more time searching. If only he had moved on from Munster once the leads had gone cold.

But Ced forced himself to remember. He looked around at the dreary cells. He could easily imagine hungry, ragged children cramped inside; he had saved too many to forget the image. “Father was rumored to be here. I followed the trail…I didn’t find him, but I did see how much the people of Munster suffered under Raydrick. I couldn’t abandon them after seeing so much.”

Karin faltered, her eyes growing sympathetic. “Oh…I see. I’m sorry, Prince Ced…I should have listened before I spoke.”

He breathed in shakily. This was too much for him to handle right now. Ced turned to the Magi still with him: Machuya, Brighton, Lara, and a few others. “Once you get Prince Leif out, go with him.”

They protested, but Ced didn’t take no for an answer. He could take care of himself and Munster, even without the talented senior members of the Magi. And if he didn’t…well, that didn’t seem like it mattered anymore.

His mother was dead. His father was gone. The whole reason he was here was null and void. 

But Raydrick still lived. He still ruled Munster, and Ced had spent the last several months fighting him. He had to oust Raydrick if it was the last thing he did. Ced wouldn’t, couldn’t , fail this time too.

“Take this, Karin. As proof that we spoke.” Ced took out the Ced Scroll his mother had given him so long ago. It felt heavy as lead…the only thing he had from Erinys. Ced was afraid that if he kept it any longer, he would burst into tears any time he saw it. “Now go. I’ll cover your escape.”

“What will you do?” Leif asked.

Ced turned to face Leif. This boy may not have looked like much, but Ced knew he was the hero they needed, the hero Munster deserved. The one who might one day end this dark age over Thracia, and someone far more important than Ced was. “I’m not leaving before Raydrick is overthrown. The people of this city need my help, just as Thracia needs yours. We will meet again I’m sure, but until then, you need to leave.”

Reinforcements began pouring into the dungeon, their armor and weapons clattering. Ced raised Forseti. The wind began swirling around him angrily, resonating with his grief. “Go to the first level and save your friends. I’ll hold them off.”

He toppled the first line of soldiers like dominos with hurricane-force winds. 

“Gods be with you, Prince Ced.” Leif said. 

He responded only by closing his eyes. Ced clutched Forseti close to his chest, letting its magic knock away his enemies without him even needing to think.

He let the wind take over his senses and drowned in his guilt and sorrow.

Iucharba joining them was an unexpected but very welcome boon to their rebellion. He was one of the first to join what Shannan had named the Liberation Army, and many citizens had taken to arms soon after the prince of Dozel. With the added numbers from Iucharba’s warriors, liberating Isaach was a notion that almost felt possible.

Iucharba had described at length why he was joining them, but Seliph could tell he was leaving things out. Still, he explained that Emperor Julius had killed all the other royals of Dozel, leaving him the only survivor. Because Iuchar and Iucharba had disobeyed the child hunt orders, the emperor had deemed them disobedient dogs he had no use over.

Seliph didn’t think he was lying, but Iucharba’s terrifying account wasn’t easy to believe either. Aside from the chilling power that the new ruler had to have, the emperor was also willing to kill anyone who didn’t agree with him, even his allies. It made it so that no one could stand up to him because of fear…Truly, Julius had to be a monster.

Wait. Julius was possessed, wasn’t he? At least that’s what the rumors from Velthomer said. Though Seliph supposed not many cared about that little detail. He certainly didn’t—with all the atrocities committed in Julius’ name, like most others Seliph simply called the evil as it was: unforgivable.

And in his deepest thoughts, Seliph wouldn’t put past such madness and evil from the son of Arvis, anyway. That man had burned countless innocents to the ground on that day…who’s to say his son had a good role model to learn from?

Either way, the people of Jugdral saw Emperor Julius as a villain through and through…just like how they unanimously viewed Seliph as a hero. The thought made him frown.

“Lewyn, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Seliph turned away from the map of Isaach he’d been studying. “Why do they call me the Scion of Light? They look to me as their hero, yet they see Sigurd as a traitor…is it merely because of the blood of Heim? I am no more deserving of the throne than Emperor Julius in that regard.”

“Edain’s been keeping you sheltered, hasn’t she?” Lewyn hummed curiously. “Indeed, Sigurd was reviled as a traitor. Your father fought for Grannvale in the time of Emperor Azmur, and it was by his efforts that the foundation of peace was achieved. However, Arvis blamed him for the Isaachian War, and that was his legacy.”

“So what changed?” Seliph pressed.

“After the Loptrians took over, people have been seeing him in a new light.” The former king explained. “The return of Loptous proved to many that Sigurd had seen through the emperor’s machinations from the beginning, and died to protect the world from his machinations.”

Seliph blinked. He had heard Oifey and Shannan’s stories about his father’s journeys all the time, and what Lewyn said didn’t seem to be quite right. “But…is that really true? That doesn’t sound…”

“Very good, you noticed.” Lewyn looked at him appraisingly. “That belief is exaggerated at best. Sigurd was no more than a pawn in the grand scheme of things, used to further Arvis and Manfroy’s plans without him realizing it.”

His face turned bitter. “I still remember when Arvis revealed he was never on our side. And you know what happens next.”

Of course, Seliph did. Lady Edain had described it to him far too often. A massacre of death and fire that seemed to leave Edain as the only survivor. Until Lewyn had reappeared. “But how did their opinions change so quickly? It’s only been a few months since Emperor Julius’ reign began.”

“I was a bard for much of my life, Lord Seliph,” Lewyn smirked. “We know how to spread tales and myths. Your father is the legend people needed to hear, allowing them to rally behind a cause to fight against oppression. And now the child of that legend is fighting to realize his father’s dream…you are the perfect catalyst for hope.”

Seliph nodded in acknowledgment, but his stomach turned. Hearing all this made him feel like a fake, a fabrication created by stories and molded into a faux ‘hero’.

Lewyn saw his expression and placed a hand on his shoulder. “These are all semantics you need not focus on, however. The important thing is that this era needs a hero. It matters not whether you think you deserve to be one, Seliph. What matters is that you take action. Regardless of stories and legends, the people are suffering. Will you let their sorrow continue?”

Seliph saw a ferocity in his advisor’s eye, like a dragon bearing down on him. He swallowed and nodded. “I won’t. I will be the hero they need. Even if their hope is misplaced in me, I can’t just stand by and let this evil continue.”

“Well said, Lord Seliph. Well said.” Shannan walked into the room, Iucharba close behind. “Soon, it will be your legend that will inspire the people in every corner of Jugdral.”

Seliph nodded gratefully. “Thank you. So, Iucharba. What do you have for me?”

His eyes flickered to Iucharba’s hand, where he held the legendary weapon Helswath. Seliph could have sworn that it was Brian who possessed the major Holy Blood of Nal, but here Iucharba was, carrying the ax like it was nothing. It made him nervous. 

“The capital, Isaach, is no problem.” Iucharba pointed to the center of the map. “Iuchar never allowed child hunts, and after…his death, the people took over and are on our side. And my territory, Sophara–”

“Your territory?” Shannan raised an eyebrow dangerously.

To his credit, the axe fighter quickly backtracked. “I mean, the one father placed under my charge. But they are our allies as well, I’m sure. The real problem will be Ganeishire and Ribaut.”

He pointed at the east corner of the map. “I say we should take on Ganeishire first. General Harold is a coward, but I think I can reason with him now that Father is dead. Ribaut is swarming with Loptrians now after the emperor attacked. It will be more difficult to capture.”

Seliph looked over to Lewyn, who nodded his assent. Shannan on the other hand, looked lost in thought. “Ribaut…”

“What is it, Shannan?”

The swordmaster blinked, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. I was simply thinking.”

“About Ribaut? That’s where everything started.” Iucharba asked.

“Yes…the Ribaut clan was often seen as barbaric. Their rulers often did not answer to the Isaachian royal family.” Shannan absentmindedly pondered aloud. “When they attacked Dahna, my grandfather Mananan took the opportunity to eradicate them all, to appease the people of Grannvale.”

“Fat lot that did.” Iucharba snorted. “The war happened anyway.”

“And Isaach suffers to this day.” Seliph finished. Something about what Shannan said bothered him though. “But Shannan…I thought the Ribaut clan were relatives of the royal family.”

Shannan nodded. “They are. Or, they were, anyway. I know for a fact that the last Queen of Ribaut was the daughter of Mananan.”

Seliph couldn’t help but gasp. “He killed his own daughter?” 

“Along with the entire royal family, and most of the citizen population.” Shannan shook his head with a sigh, looking very troubled. It seemed this was something he wanted to get off his chest… “Ribaut had killed many Grannvale citizens at Dahna, but to wipe them all out…”

“We stand here because of years of bloodshed and atrocity.” Lewyn reminded them all. “All because of the Loptrians’ influence and meddling. I know for a fact that Manfroy, the Loptrian Archbishop, manipulated Arvis and Sigurd into fulfilling his plans. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with Ribaut and Dahna too.”

Seliph stared at Lewyn. By manipulation did he mean…Deirdre? “How do you know, Lewyn?”

The green-haired man turned to Seliph, and the dark look in his eyes made him shudder. “Because I fought Manfroy, during the Massacre of Belhalla. And he was the one that killed me.”

Julia frowned as her third Heal staff broke. At this point, she was receiving injured soldiers faster than she could get new staves. The clerics around her were doing their best, but there was only so much they all could do.

The sieges had started about a month ago. Julia woke to the sound of Meteor and Bolting spells attacking the castle, turning watchtowers to rubble. Mages rushed out of the castle halls to counterattack and stop the fortress from being reduced to ash and dust. Soldiers ran to the armory and gathered at the front gates, which shook as enemies outside pounded on the wood. The doors eventually were thrown open, and the armies of Grannvale charged in. The guards of Velthomer met them with steel and fire, and the battle began.

They had eventually fought the empire off and fixed the door, but they would always come back. Some days it would be Friege and their Gelbenritter, then the next day would be archers and snipers from Ygnvi, and the next they would face squads of Loptrian Mages. Even axe knights from Dozel were there, perhaps with no other choice once their king was killed.

Julia left the infirmary, running through the castle halls. She could hear the fight raging just outside the city. She got to the walls, where archers and mages attacked their enemies from above.

She found Saias yelling out commands. His eyes widened when he saw her. “Julia! What are you doing here–GET DOWN!”

She instinctively collapsed as a huge thunderbolt shot past her head, raising the hair on her skin. Saias cursed and held the Valflame high, summoning a huge fireball. He hurled it at the army below. Julia didn’t want to see the result.

“I believe we’ve won this one. Again.” Saias breathed a sigh of relief when she approached him. “They should soon retreat.”

And indeed they were. Julia peeked over the castle wall parapets, watching the Gelbenritter slowly back away from the range of Velthomer’s arrows and spells. “But they’ll be back, won’t they?”

“Indeed they will be.” Saias nodded. His face was grim. “We can’t keep this up for much longer, much less forever.”

“What do we do then?”

Her brother watched Friege retreat stonily. His eyes flashed crimson like flames. “We need help. We should send a request to Prince Seliph to come here.”

Julia did a double-take. The brother that she had never met, coming to Velthomer? “But he’s all the way in Isaach!”

“He will have to come to Grannvale eventually,” Saias muttered, seemingly thinking aloud. “It takes around a month for a small group to traverse the Aed Desert…at most, Isaach will be liberated in two months from now…”

Julia was about to interrupt him when something inside Saias’ robes began to glow brightly, pulsing rhythmically. Saias looked surprised, taking out a glowing scrap of paper. “Right now? Of all times, Galzus…”

He looked at Julia apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Friege will be gone in the hour, so I’ll leave this to you.”

“Wait! Where are you going?” 

Saias took out a warp staff. “To meet an old friend.”

Mareeta held what once was the Shadow Sword in her hands, slowly swinging it through the air. It felt good in her hands, perfectly balanced. She could tell it was a fine sword.

But her hands still trembled on its hilt. Its flames were gone, as well as the dark aura. Still, when she closed her eyes, Mareeta could still see it flashing left and right, its blazing purple fire hungering to devastate and destroy. She could vividly recall Nanna’s terrified expression and Eyvel's anguished face. 

How could she have raised her blade against them? Mareeta might’ve have killed them that day, and have felt nothing.

Raydrick…that despicable bastard. He forced her to use that sword. He had turned her into a mindless murdering puppet, with a sole purpose to kill. Mareeta gripped her new sword tightly, feeling the resentment rise. She was going to kill Raydrick instead; that would show him. She would return all the pain he caused her and her family.

‘True strength isn’t the power to kill, it’s the ability to protect others from harm!’

Mareeta faltered. Who had said that?

She couldn’t remember.

Was it her mother?

Or…

Either way, it was right. She was supposed to protect people with her blade, people who were important to her. It was too dangerous to get caught up in the emotions of hatred; too similar to her state of mind while being possessed by the Shadow Sword.

But still, the resentment stayed. Mareeta had to grow stronger. She refused to feel hopeless again like she did before, captured by Raydrick and then the Shadow Sword. She had to be able to defend herself and her loved ones, no matter what.

Her sword quickened in pace, swishing through the air. It still made her uneasy, but she remembered the words of Saias.

‘Take the Shadow Sword. Use it for your own ends. Assert your will over that which once robbed you of it. In so doing, you can rewrite the legacy of this evil blade into something more. Use its power to forge a new future—for it and for yourself.’

Saias had long since left, but Mareeta committed his words to her memory. This blade would serve as her proof that she wouldn’t let evil and regret take over her will and her love for her family. 

Night fell, and she returned to the house where the kind old lady taking care of her by Saias’ request lived. Unbeknownst to the lady, Mareeta started packing her clothes and bags. This would be her last day here, she had decided. She had wasted enough time; Mareeta had to find Leif and Nanna and save her mother.

Suddenly, she heard loud cries and laughter from outside. The old woman quickly blew out their lamp, covering them in darkness. “Bandits. If they think there’s no one home, they might leave us alone.”

“Bandits, here?” Mareeta wondered. Some ways away, she heard a window shattered and a scream, and immediately grabbed her sword. “I’ll protect all of you. I’m going out there.”

“What are you talking about?” The old woman looked at her as if she was crazy. “A pretty thing like you can’t expect to go toe-to-toe with bandits!”

Mareeta agreed; the bandits were nowhere near good enough to go toe-to-toe with her. “I’m the daughter of Eyvel of Fiana. I’m a myrmidon, like my mother before me. No mere bandit could defeat me!”

She took her bags and left the house. Mareeta had a feeling she wouldn’t be returning, anyway. She saw a bandit kicking down a door and ran to him, sword in hand. Mareeta was ready to attack, but then she looked down at her sword and hesitated. 

She had fought bandits many times in Fiana, and never once was afraid. But now, as she held the Shadow Sword and preparing to use it for battle, something made her shiver. The last time she used this sword to fight…

Mareeta shook her head. Holy blades and cursed blades were both forged by men, Saias had said. Their difference was what they would be used for. Mareeta wasn’t using this to kill innocents, but to defend them!

She gritted her teeth and charged, catching the bandit by surprise. With one clean slash of her sword, he collapsed and fell down the steps of the house. Mareeta breathed in and out slowly, letting the revelry of the kill die down. She still felt normal. She sensed no effect from the Shadow Sword.

The other bandits saw her, growing enraged at the fall of their comrade. They charged at her with axes and bows, but they were ridiculously slow. Mareeta dispatched them all with quick, precise attacks, and soon she was surrounded by corpses.

The village was safe. And far away, Mareeta saw the torchlight of a group of people. 

She decided to follow it.

Arion watched in a depressing fashion as ballistae pummeled the walls of Tarrah. Inside, he would bet that the citizens were panicking. All the force of Friege was bearing down on them at once, and added with the forces of Thracia? It was looking hopeless for the defenders indeed.

Though, Arion was a little impressed by how well they were holding. It was mostly due to the arrival of the Liberation Army, led by Prince Leif. Arion hadn’t seen the boy in person, but he was impressed all the same. 

His army fought well, holding off Friege’s invading force with vigor despite their losing position. That was very good for Thracia; once the empire’s forces were exhausted, Arion and his knights could swoop in and take over. 

It would be breaking their alliance with the empire, but dead men could tell no tales. In a few weeks, the empire would receive the news that Tarrah was now under Thracian rule, and Thracia could protect the citizens under the guise of ‘negotiating’ with the empire. 

But still…Arion would like to avoid bloodshed if he could. Friege was weakening, and it wouldn’t be long before Thracia could attack. But Arion didn’t want to fight Tarrah, especially if Linoan, Dean, and Eda were still in there. He had to convince Linoan to surrender the city, or else countless innocent civilians would perish.

And Arion didn’t have much time before the Schwarze Rosen, the elite Loptrian mage-fighters, arrived. 

He turned to Makroy. “Makroy, I’m going to Tarrah.”

“My Lord?” The general looked confused. “The king wants us to stay back until we can turn on Friege. How will you–”

“I’m going to negotiate. And if I succeed, then we can avoid all innocent bloodshed.” Arion turned his hard gaze to him. “That would be better, wouldn’t it?”

Makroy glanced back and forth among the other knights for support but found none. “Ah…yes, your highness.”

The odds of one wyvern knight making it through this siege should have been slim, but it seemed Leif’s knights were too busy with the imperial forces to notice him. It’s not as if Arion was trying to attack, anyway. He made it all the way to the inner castle and dismounted his wyvern at the entrance. “Wait here.”

He ran inside. “Linoan! Linoan, where are you? It’s me, Arion!”

“Lord Arion!” There she was, healing an injured soldier. “Wh-what are you doing here?!”

“There’s no time. Please listen to me.” Arion ignored the soldier. “Tell your people to lay down their arms and surrender. If you keep fighting like this, Tarrah will never recover from this battle. It’s fate will be sealed.”

“Never!” The soldier sprung to his feet, getting in Arion’s face.

Arion realized with a start that this was no ordinary soldier. Brown hair, fierce eyes, and a face starkly similar to Altena’s. 

“Prince Leif? No, it doesn’t matter.” He brushed Leif aside and focused on Linoan. “My lord father is planning to seize Tarrah for himself. Our army will take the city from the Empire once they are exhausted.”

Linoan looked shocked. “Why would I surrender? Why would you tell me this?!”

“You cowardly Thracians!” Leif glared at Arion. “What makes you think we would hand the Tarrah to you over the empire? Travant is just as bad as the emperor!”

“Don’t you dare compare Thracia to the empire!” Arion hissed, glaring right back. He stood a few inches taller than Leif, and stared the other boy down. 

Leif, to his credit, didn’t budge. “Why not? Thracia took everything from me: my mother, my father, my kingdom. They massacred so many and left their remains to rot in the Aed Desert!”

“And just why did it have to happen? Did you ever ask yourself that?” Arion growled. Perhaps Leif was not as impressive as he thought. “You have no idea the struggles Thracia has to go through. Thracia has suffered decades of starvation while Munster, with its fertile lands, has watched idly as we toiled in hunger! My father wishes for the peninsula to be united like the times of Njorun and Dainn, so that everyone of Thracia may prosper!”

Leif looked scandalized. “T–that’s ridiculous!”

“Enough.” Arion turned back to Linoan. “Sorcerers of the Loptr Church are headed here even as we speak. And not just any sorcerers—they've sent the Schwarze Rosen, the withered roses of Loptous himself. When they arrive here, they'll slaughter every single man, woman, and child in Tarrah. It will be genocide.”

Linoan held her hands to her face. “No…”

“Please, allow Thracia to occupy Tarrah. I’ll see to it that the citizens are protected and treated well.” Arion said. “Being under Thracian rule means they won’t be participating under the child hunts. I give my word I’ll protect you and the city.”

The princess of Tarrah looked overwhelmed. She stumbled over her words, trying to process everything. “What about Leif and the others?”

Arion turned to Leif with an impassive look. “I’m afraid the empire sees them as the enemy, and cannot allow Prince Leif to escape. They will have to flee the city.”

“It sounds like we have no choice.” Leif paced back and forth. “If he’s right, staying in Tarrah is suicide. Do I truly have to abandon Tarrah again…?”

“Tarrah will be in good hands. But you, Prince Leif, must go. If you are captured or killed, your rebellion is over.” Arion pointed out. “And before you ask me why I want you to escape, Thracia is no friend of the empire.”

Leif didn’t seem completely convinced. “Yet you ally yourself with them. Linoan, can we trust him?”

Linoan made eye contact with Arion, holding his gaze for a long time. Slowly, she said, “I believe him. We will take your offer, Prince Arion, and entrust the city of Tarrah to you.”

Arion sighed in relief. “Thank you, Linoan.”

“What will you do, then, Linoan?” Leif asked. 

“I will accompany you, Lord Leif.”

“What?” Arion flinched, startled. 

“It pains me to abandon the citizens who've stood by me for so long during our rebellion, but I believe this would be best for everyone.” Linoan nodded, looking more sure than Arion had ever seen her. Arion slowly nodded, seeing that she was resolute. “Then I will trust that Dean and Eda will keep you safe.”

A faint smile grew on Linoan’s face despite the dire situation she was putting herself in. “Once the Empire lies destroyed at the hands of Lord Leif and myself, I'll return home. When that day comes, Your Highness, do you promise to return Tarrah to my rule?”

“Overthrowing the empire?” Arion marveled at her confidence. Linoan seemed so sure of Leif. Was the young prince really worthy of such confidence? The task of fighting the empire was monumental at best. Arion glanced at Leif’s fierce stare. This boy could be Thracia’s greatest ally, or its worst nemesis. It was a shame that Altena wasn’t here to meet him…or maybe it was a blessing. “I’ll look forward to such a day. If you succeed, I’ll gladly return the city to you.”

Arion flew off, thoughts swirling. Mostly about the Prince of Leonster, the brother of Altena. Should he have told Leif of her? That she was alive, raised by Travant? He wasn’t sure if that would relieve Leif or anger him.

This would not be the last time he and Leif would cross paths, Arion knew. This whole mess between Thracia and Leonster, Arion and Altena, Travant and Leif…it would not blow over quietly.

It wasn’t odd to get volunteers walking up to join their army. But usually, they didn’t fly in on a pegasus.

“Hey there! You’re Lord Seliph, aren’t you?” The pegasus knight hopped off her ride, holding her hand out enthusiastically. “I’m Fee! I’m from Silesse.”

A boy Seliph’s age slid off the winged horse. “I’m Arthur, from Silesse as well.”

“Arthur?” Seliph looked over him. He didn’t look Silessian, with his stormy grey hair and Thoron tome tucked under his arm. “Oh, aren’t you the one who has been helping us with the child hunts lately? The citizens of Isaach thank you for your aid.”

Arthur smirked at Fee. “See, I told you they were impressed.”

Seliph smiled. The army had been making their way to Ganeishire castle, and the villages they passed on the way were in poor condition. When the Liberation Army arrived, they were often being pillaged by bandits or attacked by guards for child hunts. They had been able to fight them off so far, but Seliph still felt they needed all the help they could get.

“So, what are you doing in Isaach?”

“Well, I initially set out to find my brother.” Fee explained excitedly. “But then I heard about you, sir, and how you're taking on the Empire yourself! And I just knew I had to be here too. Can I join your army, sir? Please?”

Seliph nodded quickly. “Certainly! But, I will say I doubt your brother is here…” 

“I’ll give all my aid to your cause too.” Arthur added. 

“We’ll need it.” Seliph nodded. “You can use magic, right? I’m almost envious.”

Arthur shrugged. “My mother was a talented war mage. But I’ve still got a lot to learn myself.”

And wow , was that a sentiment Seliph shared every moment of being the new leader of the Liberation Army. 

With a new flier on their side, the Liberation Army’s scouting improved significantly. Seliph tried to make sure Fee and her pegasus weren’t overexerting themselves, but the cheery pegasus knight wanted to help out as much as he could. With her recon, Seliph was feeling much more comfortable with their plan of attack on Ganeishire.

They made it to the castle walls, setting up camp just outside their attack range, but close enough that Seliph could exchange words with the guards on the walls if he shouted. Not that he was going to, of course.

He could see all his friends gearing up for battle, but Iucharba had insisted they try to make peace beforehand. Seliph had no problem with that; the less lives they needed to take, the better. 

For now, though, they would prepare for the worst. Seliph passed by Diarmuid sharpening his Beo Sword, the blade he cherished so much. He noticed Scathach and Larcei sparring from the corner of his eye. And finally, he stumbled upon Deimne and Muirne in the middle of a heated argument.

“You can’t, Muirne! It’s too dangerous!” Deimne was saying.

“You’re not going to convince me, brother.” Muirne retorted, uncharacteristically angry. “You of all people should know how it feels, how cruel the empire is. You can’t ask me to sit back and watch it happen.”

“Why do you insist on this so much?”

“I might not be able to fight, but I can protect everyone in my own way. I’m worried for Lord Seliph and you all!” 

Deimne sighed. “Of course. That’s what it is. I thought so.”

“Thought what?” His sister frowned at him.

“Look Muirne…don’t get your hopes up, okay?” Deimne’s tone became gentler. “He’s of royal blood, you know. Part of the Grannvale Royal Family and all. In all reality, we shouldn’t even be near him.”

Muirne looked shocked. “Wha–”

“Now where did you get that from?” Seliph cut in, walking in between the siblings. He couldn’t stop the irritation flashing across his face. “Deimne, what are you talking about? Are you saying that because you two are commoners I wouldn’t want to associate with you?”

His friend backed up, surprise written all over his face. “Seliph! When did you–”

Seliph threw his hands up in exasperation. “We grew up together, Deimne! I don’t care that we have different origins and ancestries, and I’ve never treated you differently.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Seliph.” Deimne shook his head. “You’re the prince of Jugdral, heir to two bloodlines. So many here have Holy Blood: Diarmuid, Larcei, Scathach, Lana, Lester, Oifey, Shannan…everyone around us is some Lord, Lady, or King.”

“Yet we’re all fighting for the same thing, brother.” Muirne said, all her anger gone. “We’re bold and determined–we’re here right now, aren’t we? That’s what matters, not some holy blood.”

Seliph couldn’t agree more. “She’s right. Holy Blood doesn’t make you righteous or a hero. This is as much of a fight for the common people as it is for the nobles. It’s the citizens of Jugdral who have suffered the most.”

Deimne’s breath hitched at that, and he stared up into the sky. “Yeah…you’re right. And as long as I can take down a couple of those imperial dogs, I’ll have done some good.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Seliph smiled lopsidedly. “I’m glad you two are here with me. I won’t try to dissuade you from being in this fight.”

Muirne smiled brilliantly at Seliph, and his heart skipped a beat. The waning sunlight glinted off her dark hair, and as he smiled back Seliph was reminded of how kind her eyes were. He could stare into them for eternity and not grow tired of it.

They called themselves commoners…yet in Seliph’s opinion, Muirne seemed to shine brighter than anyone else, holy blood or not. 

Chapter Text

779, six months after the Loptrian Coup

Leif was very much so regretting picking the forest.

Millefuelli, aptly dubbed the Mirage Forest, had very quickly proved to them its namesake firsthand. Any stragglers could easily be swallowed by the thick of the woodland, so Leif’s army was huddled together as close as they could be.

The leaves of the towering, twisting trees formed a canopy over their heads. For them, it was as dark as night, despite August estimating that it should have been high noon.

Nanna was walking by him, and Leif stayed next to her protectively. He didn’t trust this forest; the darkness could hide many hostile threats.

And so it did. Out of nowhere, Leif saw many of their soldiers going berserk, thrashing and trying to attack anything and everything in sight. Clamoring went up on the army, as friends suddenly turned into foes.

“It’s a berserk spell!” Linoan exclaimed. “Someone’s attacking us!”

“Healers, use your Restore staves!” Leif immediately ordered.

Nanna, Safy, and more rushed forward. The glow of their staves lit up the dark forest. Many afflicted soldiers stopped their attacks, the haze of red clearing from their eyes.

“We have no hope of seeing who are enemies are in these woods,” Finn told Leif. “Lord Leif, we should pick up our pace.”

“Understood.” Leif nodded. “Forward march, everyone! Stay cautious!”

As his advisors Dryas and August tried to reorganize the army into a march, Leif raised his Light Brand. It was risky to use its bright light, but the enemy knew their position already. He needed the visibility. His mother’s sword released a blaze of light, illuminating the area. As his eyes got used to the brighter scenery, Leif tried to examine their situation.

And the first thing he noticed was a Loptrian mage warping into existence, right next to Nanna.

“Nanna, look out!” Leif ran, but he was too far away.

Dark magic threw her backward, collapsing into Finn’s arms. Immediately, a warp circle formed at the mage’s feet. Leif gritted his teeth. “Oh, no you don’t!”

He had been learning archery from Selphina recently, and now was the time to put his bow and arrow to the test. Before the Loptrian could warp away, an arrow from Leif’s master bow pierced him in the chest. The glow from the warp rune faded.

“Look alive, men!” He heard August shout. “We have hostiles!” 

More Loptrians began warping in, but Leif didn’t pay attention to the pandemonium. He ran to Nanna, wrapping her in his arms. “Nanna! Stay with me.”

She was unconscious, yet winced and shivered at his touch. There was a purple sheen on her skin, and Leif went pale. Nanna was poisoned. “I need a Restore!”

No answer. Finn was by his side, looking around frantically. “We’ve too a lot for the berserk spells. Does anyone have an antitoxin?”

Again, no answer. Leif slammed the Light Brand into the ground. “How is that possible?!”

A Loptrian appeared behind them, and Leif was not in the right state to react quickly. Thankfully, Mareeta appeared out of nowhere and downed the mage in one strike. 

“Is she okay?” She asked, and Finn shook his head gravely.

“We need to get her out of here.” Leif decided. “Karin or Dean can fly her out to the nearest village.”

Finn picked up his daughter, bridal style. Mareeta pointed somewhere to the left. “I think Karin was over there somewhere.”

They ran past the fighting soldiers. Leif kept his eyes out for Karin, Dean, even Eda–anyone who could get Nanna to safety.

Flash!

A bright light appeared under him, blinding Leif. He only managed a short cry before the light disappeared again, leaving spots in his eyes. However, something was off. The scene had been chaotic, but Leif was fairly sure there hadn’t been a monastery.

They must have been teleported by the light; another one of the Loptrians’ traps. Ahead of them at the front of the monastery, a Loptrian bishop stumbled back in surprise. “What the–You trespass on land belonging to Loptous himself, you fools! Begone!”

He fired dark magic at them, but Leif counterattacked with light magic and blocked the strike. Finn and Mareeta swooped forward immediately, cutting the Bishop to pieces so quickly Leif almost felt bad for the man.

But not really.

“Is this…a Loptrian monastery?” Finn looked pale. “We’ve walked straight into enemy territory.”

“Don’t feel too bad. You couldn’t have known.” A soft voice called, and Leif whirled around with his sword ready.

This day was full of surprises, it seemed. “A little girl? All alone in this forest?”

The girl tilted her head curiously, her long lilac hair falling to one side. “Hmm…so it’s you. You were the one I heard calling for help.”

“Come again? Who are you?” Leif cast a confused look at his friends, who seemed just as perplexed.

“Perfect. Just like I had expected.” The girl nodded self-satisfiedly. “I will help you.”

She took a staff out, and Leif heard a sharp intake of breath from Mareeta. It was a Restore staff. As Leif watched, the young girl raised her staff over Nanna, letting the magic healing seep into her.

Nanna immediately began to breathe more steadily, and Leif deflated in relief. “T-thank you. Thank you so much.”

Nanna came to, looking around worriedly. Her addled, nervous gaze fell on the girl. “What…? W-who are you? Why are you helping us?”

“I’m Sara. I know everything about all of you.” She pointed at Leif. “You’re Prince Leif of Leonster. Son of Quan and Ethlyn.”

Finn immediately tensed, his face guarded. Usually, when people called out Leif’s heritage they weren’t saying it out of goodwill. “How do you know that?”

“I know that you are Finn, knight of Leonster, last of the Lanceritter.” Sara drawled on as if he hadn’t asked. “The girl I healed is your daughter, Nanna.”

“What’s going on?” Mareeta whispered. Leif backed away from Sara slowly, feeling rattled. The words seemed to spill out of the girl like she couldn’t control it…it was unsettling. Downright spooky, one might say.

“And you…oh.” Sara looked surprised when she saw Mareeta. “The daughter of Eyvel with the mark of Od. You don’t know your father. You wish to find him.”

“Gah!” Mareeta stepped back, looking stricken.

“Stop it!” Nanna said.

Sara looked hurt. “Don’t be scared. I never knew my Papa either. Grandfather got angry that Papa fell in love with Mama, so he killed him before I was born. Mama died when I was little too…”

Leif didn’t know what to say, and neither did anyone else, it seemed. It was as if this girl could read their hearts and minds…didn’t Sara say she heard him calling for help? Leif knew he never said anything aloud, so…

He slowly turned away from Sara, keeping one eye on her. “We should alert the others to here. This feels…important, somehow.”

With Nanna’s Torch staff as a beacon, the rest of the army soon caught up with them at the monastery. By then, Leif’s group had cleared out the church, with the mages and bishops not dispatched having long since fled. 

“A monastery of Loptous?” August shook his head regretfully as he arrived. “To think there was one in here of all places…the entire battle was born of my negligence.”

“It’s not your fault. Not even I knew a place like this existed.” Salem, their resident Loptous expert, reassured. He did a double-take as they approached Leif. “Lady Sara?!”

“You know me?” Sara frowned.

“Ah–I was an archbishop of the Loptrian order,” Salem explained, rubbing his neck. “But I suppose there’s no reason for the Archbishop’s granddaughter to know me…”

Leif jerked his head to face the red-haired man. “You mean Manfroy?!”

“That’s my grandfather…” Sara confirmed glumly. 

“Wait…” Salem’s eyes widened. “Since you are Manfroy’s granddaughter, you can use the Staff of Kia!”

Leif, Nanna, and Mareeta all perked up instantly. Leif couldn’t believe what a chance meeting this had turned out to be. It was like fate. “You mean…we have a chance at saving Lady Eyvel now?!”

Salem nodded confidently, and Mareeta quickly pleaded to Sara, “Please, come with us!”

“Hmm. Okay, I guess. I really like his voice.” Sara pointed to Leif, who couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.

Nanna shook him excitedly. “Can you believe it?! We’ll bring Eyvel back in no time…”

“Just don’t make me talk about grandfather,” Sara added unhappily. “I never liked him. He was always so weird.”

Leif couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for Sara, even though they barely knew each other. Archbishop Manfroy killed her father for the simple crime of falling in love, and then left his granddaughter to rot in this backwater place. She must have had a tough life growing up…he was glad they found her. “Okay. Thank you for helping us, Sara.”

He still wasn’t completely sure what had happened, but something felt important about this meeting.

“Prince Leif! There was a woman held captive in the monastery. She wishes to speak to you.” August called.

“Ah, then, bring her to me.”

Within moments, a brown-haired girl with fire in her gaze stood in front of Leif. Despite her ragged appearance, she stood as tall as a queen. “Prince Leif…it’s been a long, long time.”

He blinked. “And you are…?”

“You ask ME that?!” Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say. Her eyes blazed in anger. “You’ve forgotten me, haven't you! It’s me, Miranda! Of Ulster!”

“Miranda…” Leif paled. “The princess?! How can that be? Why are you here?”

Leif hadn’t known Miranda very well, only occasionally interacting with her in passing for the few months he had spent in Ulster as a child. So he didn’t want to assume intentions…but Leif didn’t think he had done anything to warrant the hatred she was directing at him…right?

“I suppose it’s no surprise you don’t recognize me in this sorry state.” Miranda huffed. “But before you get caught up in my appearance, remember that all of this is your fault!”

Goodness, did Leif really make that bad of an impression as a child or something? “My fault? Why?”

The princess of Ulster got up in his face, staring him down. “When Leonster fell, my father took you in. He didn’t have the heart for battle, and he knew fighting the empire made little sense. But he still sheltered you–and in doing so, invited the wrath of the empire!”

“You can’t blame that on Leif!” Nanna hotly objected. “That’s not fair!”

Miranda completely ignored her. “He turned me in as a hostage and forfeited the throne to save Ulster. And in the end, he departed this world in utter misery…if you had never come to Ulster, things would never have turned out like this. I can’t ever forgive you for this, Prince Leif!”

She was projecting. Leif realized. Miranda was hurting, suffering from losing everything she knew. He knew the feeling…but even so, Leif had been too young to remember the details of Leonster’s collapse clearly. What had Miranda experienced since Leif had left? How long had she been a hostage? Just because she was lashing out didn’t mean she wasn’t completely wrong…

“I must beg to differ.” Dryas broke the tense silence; Leif hadn’t even realized he was there, so lost in his thoughts he was. “The empire wanted to conquer Ulster all along, and Prince Leif was simply a convenient excuse for them to do so. And not to speak ill of the dead, but your father was also too timid.”

Miranda slowly turned toward the older man, her eyes widening. “What did you say?”

“Your father had some of the best knights in Munster, yet did not join the fight when Thracia invaded.” Dryas’s tone grew bitter; clearly, this was a bit of a sore subject to him. “He sent no troops to aid us when Leonster fell into crisis. He simply reaped what he sowed, so his kingdom’s collapse is his blame and his alone. Shifting it to Prince Leif is pure selfishness!”

“Enough, Dryas!” Leif cried out before Miranda could attack his advisor. “We cannot fight amongst each other if we hope to rebuild Munster. No good will come of talk like that!”

Dryas flinched as if just realizing what he had said. “Y–you’re right. I went too far. My apologies.”

“Mine as well, Princess Miranda. Had I known you were here, I would have come to your aid immediately. I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you to be imprisoned here for so long…” Leif said.

Miranda seemed surprised at his words, but she had calmed down (somewhat) after hearing their apologies. “Admittedly, I haven’t been here the whole time you were gone. It was only a year ago with the insurrections in Tarrah and Leonster that the empire moved me here to keep Ulster in check.”

“Still, a year in this dreadful place must have felt like forever,” Nanna murmured, still miffed at Miranda but showing pity nonetheless.

“I must reclaim Ulster from the empire.” Miranda declared. “And if your guilt is sincere, Prince Leif, then you must lend me your strength.”

She glanced significantly at Dryas, voice lowering. “And perhaps your old advisor was right in something. I must undo my father’s mistakes, and give meaning to his meaningless death.”

“Of course. I will not let you down.” He immediately agreed. 

“Wow…your voices are so turbulent. So many thoughts…like a chorus!”

Miranda jumped back with a cry. “Ah! You again!”

Sara just blinked innocently. “I thought you liked my company, Miranda.”

“More like there was no one else who I could talk to.” She grumbled, flushing in embarrassment. 

“I’m sure it was better company than the Loptrians, though.” Leif pointed out.
“Loptrians? What are you talking about? Is that what this place is?” Miranda looked confused. 

Leif realized that she had been imprisoned for a year without hearing anything about the outside world. That means she didn’t know about the Loptrians overthrowing Arvis, or the child hunts, or anything that had happened in the past six months.

“Oh dear,” Nanna shook her head. “You might want to sit down, Princess Miranda. There’s a lot you might want to know…”

“You really did it…you really did it!” Xavier, the old general of Leonster, dropped his battle ax in shock.

He had been their foe just minutes earlier, but Leif had managed to convince him to fight for Leonster once again, to fight for Leif and the promise of freedom he brought with him.

And that promise now shined brighter than it ever had before.

Leinster, freed from imperial control.

Gustav, the tyrant who represented King Bloom for the past sixteen years in Leonster, laid slain at Leif’s feet.

“The last of the empire’s forces have been dealt with, Prince Leif.” Dryas began trembling in joy. “The castle is ours. After sixteen long years, Leinster has returned to its rightful ruler!”

Leif couldn’t help but hug his advisor, the weight of his achievement almost bringing him to tears. “I would have never made it this far without you, Dryas. I owe you so much…”

“You owe me nothing, Prince…”

He released Dryas, turning around. Finn was staring at the throne, his lance drooping by his side. “Finn…”

And this time, Leif couldn’t hold back. He collapsed into Finn’s arms, crying. “We’ve finally come home, together. It’s been our dream for so long…thank you for everything, Finn!”

The man who had been Leif’s father in everything but blood blinked fast. “I…I haven’t the words, Leif…”

“Group hug!” Osian and his friends from Fiana all swarmed them, and Leif couldn’t help but laugh as they all devolved into rapturous celebration.

Somehow in the chaos, Leif found himself face to face with Nanna, staring into her endless blue eyes. He fell silent, entranced. 

“Lord Leif…” She whispered.

Her face was close. Very close.

Leif didn’t realize how quiet it had gotten until someone shouted, “Kiss her already, dummy!”

He was pretty sure it was Mareeta.

Both of them turned red, but Nanna wasn’t moving away…so was he supposed to go for it? Leif was seriously considering just leaning in and–

“Prince Leif! Not to ruin your moment, but–” Miranda stopped as the people surrounding the two of them parted, revealing a very embarrassed Leif and slightly disappointed Nanna. “Oh…uh, sorry…I’ll just leave you to it then–”

Leif sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The moment was ruined, anyway, even if he was going to commit then and there. “No, tell me. What is it?”

The Fiana Freeblades groaned as Leif and Nanna separated, the potential show now crushed. Miranda, though slightly flustered, managed to say, “I–I must remind you to live up to your word! You haven’t forgotten about it, have you?”

With his face cooling down, Leif nodded. “Of course not.” 

And he truly hadn’t. Retaking Ulster had been at the top of Leif’s list after conquering Leonster. But… “Why now? Is something happening at Ulster?”

“Yes indeed!” Miranda grew a little frantic. “The citizens have rebelled. But alone, they don’t stand a chance. We must make for the front lines and seize this opportunity!”

It seemed there would be no rest for the heroic. Leif ignored the ache in his muscles and said, “I understand. I’ll head to Ulster immediately.”

“Prince Leif!” Dryas protested. “We should discuss this! We don’t have the manpower to aid Ulster right now. We should focus on defending Leonster before anything else.”

August agreed with him, for once. “A frontal assault against the empire is unlikely to succeed. Just because we’ve won Leonster doesn’t mean we can be secure in our power. We’ve won because of the empire’s blunders–don’t forget that!”

Leif couldn’t believe this. ‘Unlikely to succeed’? Wasn’t this whole journey built on a small chance of success? Hadn’t they always taken that chance, and did the best they could with it? Leif had always been the underdog in this fight, yet he and everyone else had come so far. Why would they falter now, of all times? 

“You would have me stand idly by and let the people of Ulster be wiped out?” Adrenaline running high, he indignantly turned on Dryas and August. “They sheltered me as a child. Queen Eithne’s love and care kept me alive! Father would never forgive me if I didn’t repay their kindness. If you can’t understand that, maybe you should stay here in this castle!”

August stared at him in shock, before shaking his head disappointingly. “I hoped you had grown into a man, but you still think like a child.”

“That’s enough, August.” Dryas sighed. “Very well, milord. We’ll ride for Ulster. I’ll take half our army now and lead the vanguard. In the morrow, you can lead the other half. Agreed, August?”

The former priest frowned in contemplation. Leif couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but August eventually sighed in defeat as well. “Is this how…hah. No, I should lead the vanguard. Please, Dryas.”

Dryas shook his head. “The prince needs you. I know we’ve had our differences, but we wouldn’t be here without you. After this, you must devote all your skills and intellect to Prince Leif’s cause.”

Something seemed to pass between the two, like a silent conversation was happening as Dryas and August stared at each other grimly. Eventually, August nodded earnestly. “It shall be done.”

“Why not bring the whole army? I can go with you right now.” Leif had to ask. 

“Don’t be selfish, my prince. Our soldiers need rest.” Dryas pointed out. “The hope of liberating Leonster was what kept them going, and now that it’s done, they’re exhausted.”

He glanced to his side, then leaned close to Leif, whispering, “Just take a look at Lady Nanna. Will you really push her and the others to keep going, even if it costs them their health?”

Leif glared at his advisor, recognizing the cheap shot. But he couldn’t argue; though Nanna obviously tried to hide it, her trembling legs and sagging shoulders gave it away. Rushing all the way to Ulster immediately…the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. “You’re right, Dryas. I apologize for not thinking through it. But even so, will you have enough manpower?”

“I will take our most rested soldiers, and the motherland will provide the rest. Leonster’s liberation will yield many able hands. Many who fought for the empire did so against their will,” His advisor reminded him. “Their numbers will make up for the absent half of our army.”

“Take as many stamina drinks as you need.” Leif pleaded. “I don’t care how rare and expensive they are. I’ll follow you as soon as I can.”

“Very well.” Dryas clapped a hand on Leif’s shoulder. “Leonster stands free again, Lord Leif. You are now prince in name and in deed. Bring glory to the kingdom and live up to your duties as a ruler. Now, may the gods bless you and keep you until we meet again.”

The mood was grim in Velthomer castle’s throne room, where Saias and a few others discussed their plans. Saias pinched his brow, frustratingly having to point out once again all the reasons Velthomer could not survive a long siege, even with the holy power of Valflame on their side. Some of the old-fashioned bishops genuinely thought that holy blood and weapons were the end-all-be-all for any battle. 

“We have to seek out help.” Saias finished. “Our only hope is the rebellion in Isaach. We’ll send out a messenger through the Aed Desert and ask them to come and break this siege.”

“It’s not possible. We don’t have any manpower to spare.” The old bishop Palmark pointed out.

Saias sighed. “It doesn’t have to be a large contingent. Just a few men will be fine…if only we had a pegasus knight.”

“The Aed Desert is too dangerous!” One of the Velthomer nobles declared. “We have no guarantee a message will even make it through.”

“We have no choice.” Saias snapped. “The empire surrounds us from the west and south. We have no choice but to go north through the desert for support.”

Palmark shook his head in worry. “But who can we trust for this responsibility, Prince Saias? Will it be you?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot go. I’m needed in the defense.” 

If Saias still had his Warp staff, he would be gone already. However, Galzus just had to call him at the most inopportune time. Saias had made a promise to the man so many years ago, and he was a man of his word. 

It wasn’t a waste of time, though. Saias suspected Mareeta could be a very important factor in the future if the Mark of Od on her back was any indicator.

Nevertheless, his Warp staff was now broken, and they didn’t have any more of the very rare magic. Now he needed someone trustworthy but also strong to make it through the desert to Isaach. The bishops and nobles argued back and forth, trying to find a good candidate. 

“I’ll go!” The loud cry shocked them all into silence.

Saias wondered if he was seeing and hearing things correctly. “Julia? Did you just volunteer?”

“Yes!” He had honestly forgotten his sister was here, as quiet and timid as she usually was. But now Julia was brazenly striding forward. “I’ll go to Isaach and request, no, demand that Seliph leads his army here to help us!”

Saias blinked, pride slowly blooming on his face. 

“Are you sure, princess?” Palmark frowned. “It is no easy journey. There are rumors there are Loptrians living there too…”

“I am the princess of Grannvale, the descendant of Heim.” Julia placed a hand over her chest. “I will not be felled so easily. In fact, I am the only option, aren’t I, Saias?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Saias supposed it was high time he was reminded how smart and strong Julia was. “You are. I can trust no one else to do this. Furthermore, you may be the only one the Liberation Army will trust and be willing to send aid for, as the royal princess.”

“What if they don’t?” Someone cried out. “How do we convince them surely to aid us!”

“Their aim is to one day free Grannvale, and to do that they must come to Velthomer eventually.” Saias reasoned. “But if they are still not convinced, then we can give them more incentive.”

He gestured at Palmark. “The emperor’s keepsake, if you please.”

The bishop stared at him uncomprehendingly, before looking startled. “You don’t mean–!”

“I do, Palmark. Give it to the princess.”

Palmark trembled but obliged, leaving the room. Soon, he returned with four knights, heaving a thin case into the room with great difficulty. They placed it before Julia’s feet and opened the box. Gasps rose in the gathering as what was inside glowed with a divine light.

Julia’s hands covered her mouth. “Is that…”

“The Holytide Blade, Tyrfing.” Saias nodded. “It is the birthright of Prince Seliph, the leader of the Liberation Army in Isaach. It was once kept here by Emperor Arvis, but now I believe it will serve as an excellent gift and symbol of trust.”

His sister looked at him, her brow tightening in determination. “I won’t fail you.”

The other bishops and nobles still seemed nervous, but Saias just smiled. Julia was always the shy and soft-spoken one, taking after her mother. That was why so few realized her inner strength. 

There was a desperation in her eyes, Saias saw. A fervent willingness to prove herself. Julia wasn’t going to run and she wasn’t afraid to fight, despite what they witnessed in Belhalla.

Or was it because of what happened in Belhalla that she was so willing?

The thought worried Saias.

Was it courage or fear that fueled her?

Ares could not understand why he kept going to this girl’s dances. Or why he kept meeting with her after his missions. 

Or why he was standing at her doorstep, gifting her flowers.

Maybe because Lene was a talented dancer who deserved more. Maybe because Ares was just a nice person like that (he definitely wasn’t). Or maybe Ares just wanted to see what happened.

A faint memory of his father bringing flowers to his mother flashed through his mind, one of the few things he remembered from his short but perfect time at Castle Nordion. Somehow, he still remembered his mother’s delighted expression all that time ago.

That same expression was on Lene’s face as she accepted his gift. “Thanks, Ares! I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re always so stoic and serious.” Lene teased. “But looks like you have a gentle side too.”

“Yeah, well,” Ares didn’t really know how to respond to that. “I missed your last performance, so I thought I should make up for it.”

“That’s too bad. It was a good one, that last one…” Lene giggled.

He couldn’t help but smile. “In my opinion, all of your dances are amazing.”

She smiled back, but it quickly vanished when she saw the bandage around his ribs. “You’re hurt!”

Lene dragged him inside and set him down on the bed, furiously checking his wound. Ares tried not to stop her, to no avail. “I’ve already treated and wrapped it…”

“Not very well, apparently!” Lene scoffed at him, pointing to the bloody mess. “What kind of rushed job is this? You barely even used gauze!”

She unwrapped his flimsily wrapped bandages and brought out the gauze, examining the sword wound on his left side. “Why didn’t you go to a healer?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Ares shrugged. He decided not to tell her he neglected to treat it more meticulously so that he could meet her quicker. “Besides, there aren’t many healers in this city…”

He trailed off, noticing something on the back of Lene’s neck. She had leaned over to clean his wound, and he could see something dark marking her skin. Its texture looked very familiar. “Is that–urgh!”

Ares hissed in pain as Lene prodded a deeper gouge. She quickly withdrew, fretting. “Sorry, sorry! I…I think you need to take off your shirt, though, or else I can’t reach.”

He scowled, unhappily taking off his ripped clothing. Immediately, his gaze went to his right shoulder, where the mark of Hoðr painted his skin. Lene’s eyes also flitted to the mark, but she ignored it in favor of moving closer to rewrap his wound. “Hold still.”

Ares hoped she couldn’t tell how fast his heart was beating. Lene didn’t seem bothered by the closeness, at least. Was it just him?

“So, what is that?” Lene lightly poked his Crusader’s Mark.

Ares hesitated. Javarro had told him to keep his Crusader heritage a secret, and to this day the captain and a few other mercenaries were the only ones who knew. Mystletainn wasn’t that recognizable of a sword, which helped.

But Lene was more than trustworth enough, he decided. “It’s the mark of a Crusader.”

“The mark…wait.” Lene held up her hands. “You’re a descendant of the Crusaders?!”

“Hoðr, the Black Knight.” Ares nodded.

“Is it a coincidence that you’re also called that?”

“Yes.”

She snorted. “Now that’s more surprising than anything else.”

He sighed, suddenly self-conscious. With Lene finished, he pulled his shirt back on. “Not many know since I try to keep it a secret.”

Lene sat down next to him. “Wait, so are you a prince or something?” 

“An exiled one, but yeah.” Ares gestured at Mystletainn. “My father wielded this sword before me, as did his father before him. But Javarro always told me to hide my past.”

“Hmph. I don’t care what that guy says. You don’t have to hide anything from me, you know.”

Ares hesitated, before nodding slowly. “I know.”

He looked out the window, watching the sun set slowly. “I have to go now. Javarro has a new mission for me tomorrow.”

“Ugh, again?” Lene frowned. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t have to go out there, Ares. You keep coming back hurt.”

He just shrugged. Perhaps he should have been worried about the surplus of dangerous missions Javarro was suddenly giving him, but it wasn’t as if Ares couldn’t deal with it. It was nothing new. “Orders are orders.”

“That’s a sad way to live, isn’t it?” She pointed out. 

“It’s not that I have much of a choice.” Ares stood. “I do what Javarro tells me to do. He took me in and raised me since I was a child, and I owe him.”

Lene only looked more troubled at that. “What if you had to choose, Ares? Between following what Javarro tells you to do or doing what’s right?”

Ares didn’t answer. Maybe it was right for Lene to be concerned. But Ares had been a mercenary his whole life. He had killed people just because it was his job and he got ordered to do so.

Doing what was right? He knew what she meant, but…it didn’t matter. Ares wasn’t a good person. 

And he didn’t get to choose.

Leif wasn’t perfect. He knew that much.

Throughout his journey, he had messed up many, many times. He acknowledged his mistakes and improved from them. August told him that every person made errors, but it was the leaders who learned from their failures. In every darkest hour, Leif tried to find the lesson and make the best of the situation.

But it was hard to keep that in mind as Friege’s army loomed in the distance, closing in on the meager remnants of Dryas’ vanguard.

“No…this can’t be happening…” Leif whispered. “We lost…”

The second half of Leonster’s army was gathered outside the castle, but there was no need to lead them anymore. Right as they were about to leave in the morning, the news had arrived.

Duke Dryas was dead. His army was decimated. The only reason any survived was because of his sacrifice.

And those survivors were now charging to Leonster Castle, the imperial army hot on their heels.

“This is absurd…”
“Prince Leif, snap out of it!” August’s harsh voice cut in. “Time is of the essence. We must bring our troops in before everyone is slaughtered.”

Leif shook his head furiously, hoping it was all some bad dream. “T–this can’t be happening…”

“Get a hold of yourself, prince! If we lose our troops now, Dryas will have died for nothing.” August grabbed him roughly. “We owe it to him to save as many as we can. Now go!”

Shocked out of his stupor, Leif scrambled to his horse. He turned to his disheartened army, many of whom seemed to be in shock like he was. “We have to save them! Keep the gates open as we hold off Friege. Let’s go!”

He charged forward, and the army followed. But despite putting up a tough front, Leif was all but shambles inside. Besides Dryas, there were other people he knew in that army. Miranda, Glade, Selphina; were they all dead because of his miscalculation?

Because now that Leif thought about it more and more, this was truly a blunder of great magnitude. Adrenaline and pride had been running through his veins when he declared he would free Ulster just yesterday. August had called him a foolish boy, and Leif hadn’t even thought twice about it.

The imperial army was massive compared to theirs. They were better equipped, and better trained than his sellswords and volunteers. And furthermore, the defense of Ulster was led by Bloom, the king of Friege, and wielder of the holy tome Mjolnir. Leif was growing increasingly miserable as he realized just how bad this idea was. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten all these details.

But it was too late. All he could do was fight his hardest. They held off the imperial knights as the civilians of Ulster and Doryas’ exhausted troops ran for Leonster. Eventually, Leif called a retreat, and they ran back for the gates.

Leif was the last one in the castle. The great doors of Leonster slammed shut not a moment too soon. Lightning and metal slammed against it, but the walls held. 

He was relieved to see Miranda coming up to him. He expected her to be angry, but the princess of Ulster looked as guilty as he felt. She introduced him to Conomor, the general of Ulster’s knights who had helped them in the chaotic battle with his army.

Leif had been so caught up in his misery that he hadn’t noticed them at all. He nodded a quick thank you as he tried not to collapse under his own guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Miranda suddenly blurted out. “I pushed for the attack. This is my fault.”

He couldn’t even look at her. “No. I promised you I would free Ulster. But I got caught up in my successes. I didn’t think of my people. I failed you…and I failed Leonster.”

Leif buried his face in his hands. “It’s like I killed Dryas myself…”

“You don’t have the luxury of wallowing in regret, my prince.” August was suddenly in front of him. “The time to atone will come. Right now, you need to defend with all your diligence and valor.”

He slowly looked up at his advisor. The sounds of battle still clashed against Leonster’s walls, reminding him of the situation. The empire wouldn’t give up until Leonster fell. 

“Y–you’re right.” Leif took a shaky deep breath. “But…Friege will be relentless. Be honest with me, August. What are our chances of beating this siege?”

His advisor hesitated for a long time. Eventually, he grimly said, “Slim to none, my prince.”

Leif trembled. Was this the end of their fight? All because of his pride and impatience? 

“But there is still hope,” August said, and Leif snapped to attention. “A large rebellion against the empire is rising in Isaach. By all accounts, they’re doing very well for themselves.”

“You want to ask them for help?” Miranda interrupted, causing August’s eyebrow to twitch. “Isaach is leagues away from here! How can we send a message in time before we fall to this siege?”

He sighed. “It is by no means going to be easy. But Prince Leif, do you know who their leader is?”

Leif didn’t understand why August was asking him such a random question. “Uh…they’re in Isaach, so perhaps Prince Shannan?”

“I thought Shannan was here in Thracia.” Miranda pointed out.

“Homer told me that wasn’t the real Shannan,” Leif responded.

“Oh. Does Mareeta know that?”

“Well, she was so excited about learning Astra from him I didn’t have the heart to tell her–”

August cleared his throat to gain their attention. “Ahem, you two. Prince Shannan is indeed with the rebels, but their leader is someone else. His name is Seliph of House Chalphy.”

“Lord Seliph…” Leif managed to place the name. “You mean the Scion of Light!?”

“Indeed. His father was your uncle.” August said. “Lord Sigurd was seen as a traitor, but he is now respected for seeing through the emperor’s machinations from the beginning and dying while trying to stop Arvis. He is more legend than man…and now his son Seliph is fighting to realize that legend’s dream. He’s beloved by the people who feel hope again because of him. 

August paused, looking at Leif significantly. “Why do you think they follow him, Lord Leif?”
“He’s the son of a hero and a hero himself. He has the blood of the Crusaders, and he’s a great warrior. And in short, he’s a far greater man than I am.” Leif bitterly replied.

His advisor just sighed. “It’s not because of that. Seliph is a hero, yes, but that’s only because our era demands one. The people clamor for a hero, and someone has crafted Seliph to be their hero. Forged him, if you will.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that no one chooses to be a hero, Leif,” August said. “They’re willed into a hero by the people around them and shaped by the needs of others.”

Leif stared at his hands. “So…is that the same for me?”

“Hmm…Seliph is the hope of a hero the people have created. For that reason, the people won’t hesitate to die for his cause, ” Now, August pointed at Leif’s chest. “Similarly for you, Dryas has traded his life for yours. Many others will too. What is their reason? Have you ever stopped to wonder why people keep sacrificing themselves for you? Why so many hail you as their savior?”

Leif fell silent. 

“Think about it, my prince. Think on it well.” August sighed. “In the meantime, we need to send a message to Lord Seliph. Someone who can make the journey to Isaach.”

“I’m staying here.” Miranda declared, despite the fact Leif had no intention of choosing her. “I’m not running away from this siege when it was I who had caused it.”

“Admirable of you, princess.” August drawled. “I’ll leave the decision up to you, prince.”

He left it at that, and Leif set out to find his candidate. Someone tough who could make the daring journey through the desert, while being diplomatic enough to convince Lord Seliph to send aid.

Leif went to Nanna first with those points in mind. However, she very quickly called out his ulterior motives. “I’m not leaving Leif. I don’t care how dangerous the siege is.”

“But Nanna!” Leif couldn’t help himself. “I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if something were to happen to you here!”

“I’m staying with you just like I’ve always had.” Nanna insisted. “Just like I did, you promised to be by my side, even to the ends of the earth.”

He sighed. “I did, didn’t I…?”

But that didn’t make Leif any less worried. Nanna must have realized this since she hugged him, which immediately made him feel better. “It’s going to be okay. How could we be worse off if we’re together?”

Leif relented. “Very well. Together it is.”

With Nanna off the board, he went and asked a couple of others to be the messenger. His first choice was Dean or Eda since they could fly to Isaach on their wyverns, but they refused to abandon Linoan.

He asked Karin for the same reason, but she sheepishly said she didn’t want to make the journey alone. “I’ve already done it once, and I have to tell you it wasn’t very pleasant…”

He asked Fergus. “With Karin? I dunno, pal, she ain’t exactly like me too much…”

He asked Asbel. “My magic and your sword, Leif! We promised each other that, and I’m going to stay by your side to the end.”

He asked Olwen. “Ah…I think I should stay. We’re fighting against Friege, my homeland…I feel as if I have something to prove. Forgive me…”

Eventually, Leif ended up in front of Mareeta. “Mareeta, please.”

“I can’t abandon this! We still have to find and free Mother.” She protested.

“We can’t do that if we don’t break this siege.” Leif pleaded. “And besides, you get to go to Isaach, your homeland. I thought you always wanted to learn more about it.”

Mareeta rolled her eyes at him. “You sure you’re not just sending me away because you’re worried about me?”

“No!” He paused. “Well, maybe a little. But I do think you’re a great choice for this. You’re one of the people I trust the most, Mar.”

She sighed. “Gah, stop making those eyes at me. Alright, alright! I’ll do it.”

Finally, they had their messengers. Mareeta and Karin saddled atop Hermes the pegasus, ready to leave Leonster. 

“Stay safe, you two,” Leif said. 

Many others were present for the sendoff. August went over their duty again, emphasizing the need for reinforcements. “Not to pressure you, but Leonster will not be able to hold forever. I predict four or five months before Friege inevitably overwhelms us.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have Hermes.” Karin cheerfully said. 

Mareeta twisted her grip on her sword handle, a nervous habit of hers. “We’ll be back.”

“Godspeed, then.” Leif declared. “We’ll launch a counterattack on Friege to draw their attention away. Make it clear of Leonster, and head for Isaach.”

August gave the order, and battle cries went up on Leonster’s walls as they rained fire, thunder, wind, and arrows on Friege’s knights. Hermes took off, carrying its riders north at a frightening speed.

Leif watched as they disappeared into the horizon. The situation was bleak, and every waking day for Leif might be spent on death’s door. 

But he had learned to be patient. For his people, for Dryas, for Leonster…he had to persevere.