The Realm of Austur Episode 2: New Consequences

"If I may advise, brother, I'm not sure how we could expedite the process of finding her." Pollux tried to ease the visibly distressed Titus as the emperor attended to several legal notices.

"No no no no no..." Titus shook his head as he signed a scroll with a fake smile plastered on his face as a single tear rolled down his face. "We must send the cavalry!"

"Sir, we've already sent the cavalry, and the secret air brigade, and mercenaries, and bounty hunters, and your own son!" Pollux tore another scroll out of Titus' mitts and planted a strike along the sullen emperor's face. "I'm not one to defy my king, but you need to lead! Stop worrying about her! She'll be back, and even then, she'll try to escape again. She doesn't want to be here! You need to let go of Odessa! Let go of Caesaria!"

As a small blob of saliva landed on Titus' face after his brother's brief tirade, his fake smile quickly turned to an angry growl as he punched Pollux directly in the abdomen, forcing both back as he created a cage of magick to contain him.

"Caesaria is mine! My daughter!" He yelled furiously as the cage formed solid walls that began to close in on Pollux. "I will not give her up! She ran, not because of disdain for this place! She couldn't have! And not again! Not again..."

Titus collapsed into a sobbing heap as he began to lay on the floor, releasing Pollux from the prison.

"Did she leave, for him...?"

The cup of tea settled silently on the oak table. It was pale and made of the finest glass the continent had to offer. The owner's frosty, azure eyes leered at the cup with disdain. The red-haired man adjusted the fine, silk clothing he was wearing. Once again was he ripped from his world, sent to another. A sorceress had been the cause of his problems then, but now he had been pulled from his world by some other means. Perhaps it was the way of the gods saying they wanted him to play the role of hero again.
If that wasn't enough, the man had awoken on a island; stranded.

He had caught a boat; traveling until he was shipwrecked by a storm. He had found himself drifting upon the shores of a village, nearly killed by undead creatures, who had been assaulting said village. To come to his aid was a woman he thought he knew, but she wasn't the woman he knew. They shared the same hair color, but the woman; Shalla, was not at all like his comrade. They were similar; true, but not completely so. The 'nobleman' raised the fine cup of cherry tea to his lips, taking a long sip. How long would it take before he returned; how long would it take before he could finally cast this fancy life off his shoulders, resume mercenary work, and reclaim Aelius?

How damn long before he could pray at his parents graves? How long would it be he could see his sister again, enjoy the camping out with friends, finish the war that had been started?

Its been too damn long. This world is not my own, and these clothes are not what I'm accustomed too. I've never been one for fancy dress-ups, or meeting people who are so traitorous. Their smiles are a bloody menace, each one checking for status. Is marrying into a rich family all these fools care about? They don't know the meaning of seriousness. 

The nobleman sat the tea down, ignoring the chatter around him. So this was what the nobility were like. They must have lived such wretched lives. He thought upon his travels with the current band. Aless and Eden had long left, off to venture the world, find a home, and work. He had seen less of Fenrir and Adelle. Mark had left with them too. The only two he truly knew were Shalla and Ceridwen. He felt a boiling hatred for this world. Not because it wasn't his own, but because of the people that inhabited it. The twenty-year old man sighed loudly, standing up from his seat. The chair made a loud noise, alerting one particular noblewoman to his presence. 

She waltzed over to him, and from instinct, his head lowered to his waist. Dog's Breath! He had forgotten he didn't keep Alyrun on him. Then again, they didn't allow weapons in gatherings. Just another great thing to chalk up this world. A mad emperor, vampires, monsters, and a missing princess.

He felt the need to stand up and shout, "I demand your silence! Not as nobility, but as the firstborn heir to Aelius' throne!"
His lips tugged with amusement. Yeah, like that would work in a foreign world. Then again, he didn't need a damn holy sword to stop the beating heart of a man. Aeneas had taught him that. It was immoral, but he had to admit the assassin prince knew his poisons and weaponry. Must have been nice being the enforcer of the law. A beacon to the victims; a bane to the perpetrators.

His smile faded. He had to find his own way of escape from this world. The noblewoman had ended her approach now, speaking to him. He turned, making a brief apology. He had no intentions in listening to stupid gossip. It was when she caught his wrist that he turned, docile eyes freezing over like an ice field. "Leaving so soon, Lord Nebilim? We were just about to bring out the wine. Please, enjoy yourself." She urged, ruby red lips moving with charm.

Lord Nebilim gently pried her hands off his wrist, smiling apologetically. "I must be getting home soon, my... Lover is waiting for me. Surely you understand." He lied partially. The lover part was no lie, but someone WAS waiting on him. There, at the door, Shalla waited, tapping her feet impatiently. It was hard to keep up the appearance of a simple handmaiden. The noble woman's eyes flickered to the door frame, her expression souring.

"You play a bold game, messing with a plain handmaiden. Enjoy your brief time." She smiled, bowing before leaving to return to whatever duties she was doing. 'Nebilim' slipped over to the door, sighing. "Thank you for the great timing." He smiled thinly, tugging at the collar of his fine clothes.

Shalla casted a brief scowl over at the noblewoman's back. "No problem. Besides, don't you have to get back anyway, Lord Nebilim?" She smirked. Nebilim's expression soured. "Of course I do. That place was... Quite terrifying, Lady Diane. You're dismissed, as I can find my way home." He replied.

And take of this suit while I'm at it. Still, her timing was impeccable. Any longer, and I would probably be speaking someone out. That, or filing a harassment report. Oh, Ardlin, why must you curse all your scions with princely looks? At this rate, old man, you're worse than Ganthalos himself. No, I take that back, grandfather. You're worse than King Tristan.

Once they got far enough to see light, Barry and Carl extinguished their own torches while they carefully crept through the darkness to see the source of light and hear the cackle of fire that wasn't their's..

What sounded like a piece of cloth ripping and coins spilling against the floor caused the party to stop. They readied their weapons and were about to step out of the darkness and attack when they heard someone else speaking.

"I told you to watch the weapons! Pick it up! We should've moved days ago!"

Sounds of a kromar's hiss, a snap, and then rattling of more metal objects and bone or wood. Abel held a finger to his lips as he peered out of his hiding spot slightly to observe what was going on. He turned back and whispered to Barry, who whispered to Carl, who whispered to Irving.

"5 kromar including the mark and a human, probably a pact bearer."

"A what?" Irving whispered back.

"Don't know details", said Carl, "but they're humans who make 'pacts' to have animal familiars."

"Chop chop already!" said the pact bearer in question. "Its only a matter of time before bounty hunters come for us, and I don't want to leave a single gold coin to--"

A particularly loud hissing behind the mercenary party put them on alert; Carl in particular screaming in a very high pitch. Irving, Abel, and Carl all ran into the light as Barry turned around and slashed with his sword, clanging against a scimitar that was only barely visible in the darkness.

Irving brought up his ryfel and looked toward the light to get a better view of what Abel saw. Five tall, bipedal lizards wearing small pieces of metal and bone and holding poorly maintained weapons; two with steel swords, one with a poleaxe made of bone and sharpened rock, another with a tribal-looking hatchet. The largest of the bunch -- the pack leader -- carried a large axe that was better maintained than the others, had torso armor typically worn by a Cleatian soldier painted with red and black tribal symbols, had a bear trap clenched around its right arm, wore a bright bead necklace, and had the upper part of a bull skull on its head, also adorned with black tribal symbols. Around them were bags of what Irving could tell were gold coins, a pile of jewelry against the wall at the end of the cave, expensive looking jars, urns, and other antiques, a pile of grass and straw laid out as a makeshift bed, a dead campfire, and a trail of gold coins pouring out of a bag one of the lesser kromars wore around the waist. A muscular looking human with red pants, brown boots, and a belt slung around his otherwise bare torso (which was again, painted on) stood up from the pile of jewels and pulled his machete from his sheath, turning to face the mercenaries.

"Gut 'em!" yelled the pact bearer.

Abel grabbed one of the torches and threw it behind him, giving more light to Barry as he fended off the kromar returning from scouting ahead or something. Two of the kromar jumped up to the cave ceiling before pouncing. One narrowly missed Abel, but the other landed on Carl, picked him up, and threw him like a ragdoll against the wall. Before Irving could move to assist Carl as the kromar advanced toward him, one charged at Irving and brought down an overhead swing, which he raised his ryfel to parry. Having previously settled on his Type-6 slot in anticipation for close combat, he shot a fiery blast at the kromar's head as a counterattack. It fell to the floor and flayed around in pain, which Irving followed up with two more blasts to the torso and one last one point-blank to the face.

Irving was only allowed a brief look at how the others were doing. Abel had managed to concentrate a blast of Type-7 magick through his assailant's midsection and pick up the corpse to throw at the kromar holding a bruised Carl up against the wall about to plunge a sword into him, pushing him off of Carl as he raised a fist and brought it down on the kromar with a lunge. Barry was still in a duel against the kromar that had sneaked up on them earlier.

A sharp stab of pain on his right shoulder brought Irving back to the fight. He pulled out the tomahawk that embedded itself within him and turned to face the kromar who threw it. As it charged to claw at him, he managed to duck and sidestep out of the way as he quickly changed slots to his gun. He charged and fired off a Type-2 round that caused the kromar to shriek and flail wildly before its body decayed and turned to ash. Irving ejected the slot and was going to swap into a Type-3 slot before realizing he had drawn aggro from the pack leader. He was barely able to duck under a horizontal swing aimed for his neck and raise his weapon in an attempt to block a vertical swing. His knees buckled from the strength of the reptile, which it noticed. It wrapped its tail around his ankle and slammed him against the wall before grabbing him from behind with its hand -- digging it's claws into Irving -- and throwing him against the ground. With a hiss, it brought the axe downward towards Irving.

Aww hell, it's...

The head kromar was surprised when the puny human suddenly picked himself up and shoulder tackled it despite its injuries. It expressed even more surprise when the human was able to outright overpower it as it pulled the axe away, picked the reptile up, and did a 360° turn to crash it to the wall in front of him.

While the kromar was stunned, Irving grabbed it again -- from behind this time -- raised it up to the air, and began pulling apart. The kromar shrieked in unholy pain before Irving tore it in two by the midsection. Ignoring the blood that rained down on him, Irving turned his attention to the pact bearer, who was feebly trying to sneak out of the cave with more bags of gold than he was probably able to carry on his own for extended periods of time. Irving ran up, grabbed him from behind, threw him to the floor, and stepped on his chest to keep him from scrambling up.

"Die!"

Without exactly knowing how, Irving charged dark energy in his foot and brought it down the pact bearer's head, a sickening crunch as his skull broke apart and a small crater formed from the impact of the stomp.

Irving stumbled back in a daze after the attack and saw how his party was going. Barry had plunged his sword in his opponent, who had fallen to the floor. Abel was in a fist-fight with his kromar, and appeared to be winning. Carl was sitting against the wall barely conscious.

I...feel...

Irving collapsed.

Two months later...

She still hasn't come down yet. It's almost midday, and yet not a peep...

Vincent leans forward on his throne, rubbing his eyes. His dark blue eyes were underlined by prominent black circles that showed the worry he tried to hide. His usual black attire had been replaced by the gold and crimson of his royal regalia, but for once... It didn't seem to fit him today. It almost looked like the royal robes of Gorgath had been tailored for someone else, someone far larger. It looked like he was just a boy trying to fill a giant's boots... Or maybe that's just how he felt today. Instead of looking imposing and powerful, Vincent only looked tired and exhausted.

This is some mess you've left me, Gor... You old bastard. This was never my destiny...

He sighs and forces himself to rise. He leaves the throne and slowly walks up the stairs to his left, heading towards the West Wing of the palace. He walks up to the very first door in the grand hallway, and knocks gently. No answer.

After a few moments of silence, he calls out, "Elia, it's me. I'm coming in."

He turns the knob, and the door opens without resistance. Not that he expected it to be locked, but still... He had thought she might still be asleep. Oh, how wrong he was... She was awake, though she looked far worse than he did. She was sitting on the edge of the massive bed, her bare feet dangling over, still in the same outfit as yesterday. Her hair was mussed and unkempt, and sunken shadows highlighted her beautiful eyes. Eyes that were normally so vibrant and defiant, and now... Now the light had almost completely faded from them. She doesn't seem to have even washed her face... And this was the same girl who hounded him about his personal hygiene... It made his old stone heart clench to see her like that.

The accident yesterday... It's still bothering her this much? Yes... Of course it is. I've been a fool... Such a blind fool. I should have stayed with her last night... I should have made sure she was all right. But I was too absorbed in the past to see what was right in front of me... And because of that, I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most... Good gods, I make a terrible teacher, don't I? I have to at least try and make up for that now... She needs to know the truth.

He walks over to the edge of the bed, and sits down next to her. The bed sinks slightly beneath his weight. "Do you remember the story I told you? About Lazarus? The demon who became a deity? There's another side to that story. Long before he was saved by the Silver Dragon, long before he was a deity or demon, long before the crimes he committed... He went by another name. He was just a simple boy then. The House he grew up in was a complicated one, full of politics and strife and family feuds. His mother had died birthing him, and his father was a very lonely, sad, and busy man, constantly fending off assassination attempts and trying to atone for some long ago crime. The only family the boy had was his nursemaid. She was a kind and gentle woman, and she raised the boy the best she could. I often wonder... How the story might have differed, had the boy been allowed to stay with her. Had he been allowed to have a normal childhood... Maybe everything could have been different. Regardless of what might have happened, what did happen is the boy's family was attacked in the middle of the night by another House. His House was razed to the ground, and reduced to a smoldering pile of ashes. Only the boy and his nursemaid escaped, and she died shortly after. The boy often blamed himself. But tell me Elia... Do you think it was his fault? His father's fault? Or... Was it circumstance?"

Vincent merely smiled back at her. Before he could stop himself, he reached over and gently brushed a stray bang away from her forehead. "What I think Elia... Is that you believe in the gods perhaps a little too much. The gods hold no power over me. They cannot kill me. They cannot harm me. I am as immortal as they."

He gently took her hand and led it to his left shoulder, near his heart, where she had accidentally wounded him in training yesterday. "See? All healed. The gods hold no power over me, because I do not let them. You need to break out of this mindset, Elia. Your destiny belongs to no one but you. Never forget that."

He let go of her hand, and his eyes softened considerably for a moment, before he turned serious. "Listen to me, Elia. I need you to listen to me, all right? The reason you can't control your powers lies with you alone. Because of your past, because of what happened that day in the valley, of how everyone has treated you... You have never believed your powers belong to you. That's why you never tried to nourish them. And that's why you can't control them. You think your friend should have been the one to be a Type 1. You think you betrayed him somehow. You think your powers belong to the gods. Hell, you even think your destiny belongs to the gods. But you're wrong Elia. If you destiny is controlled by them, then why did we meet? How would that serve their purpose, when I am one of the only beings in the world that can oppose them? Don't you see, Elia? Your powers belong to you and you alone. Your destiny belongs to you and you alone. Your life belongs to you and you alone. And that means... If you need to take a break from training, then that's your decision. But you will always have a home here, Elia. Always."

Vincent closed his eyes for a moment. She can't hear me... How am I supposed to make her listen? I haven't felt this helpless since I was a boy...

Not knowing what else to do, he turns towards her and hesitantly pulls her into his arms. "Listen to me, Elia. You can prevent it from happening again simply by accepting yourself. Accept yourself for who you are. Accept your powers. Believe in yourself. I saw something in you when I first brought you here, and I still see something in you now. It's time to fight, Elia. It's time to stop putting all your faith in the gods, and turn that faith inward, to yourself. You are one of the strongest women that I've ever known, Elia. You just don't know it yet. It's time to let all your fears go. You don't want to live your whole life ruled by fear, do you? You can't control the future Elia. But you can work to shape that future."

Vincent reluctantly lets her go, and rises to his feet. He walks over to the wall across the room, his back to her, and he closes his eyes. Allowing fate to control your life... Believing that your destiny is absolute... Unavoidable... That's the same thing as trusting the gods Elia.

"I have told you all I can," he says quietly. "The rest is up to you, Elia. I can share my knowledge with you... I can teach you what I know. I can help you find your way, protect you from harm, and advise you on the best course of action... But I cannot, and will not tell you how to live your life. That would make me no better than the gods I despise. Whatever you decide Elia, know that you aren't alone. I will support you no matter your decision. After all, that is my duty as your teacher and friend, is it not?"

He smiled slightly, a sad, wistful smile, though she could not see it.

Vincent turns back to her, and he gives her an incredulous look. "Do you think I allow just anyone into Gorgath, Elia? Do you think I would devote myself to teaching you if you weren't important to me?" He walks up to her, and kneels in front of her. "I have nothing against you, Elia. And for what it's worth, I do trust you, as much as I am able to. But I don't have the luxury of fully trusting anyone... Not anymore. I've been proven right far too many times. But enough of that. You must be starving. Why don't you clean yourself up and I'll go make you some brunch, hmm?"

Vincent inclines his head, and rises to his feet. "Take your time, Elia. There's no training today. Today will be for rest. You've earned it."

With that, he quits the room and walks back downstairs, towards the kitchens. Please, Elia... Prove me wrong for once...

He eventually decides to make a simple, but sizeable meal of grilled sausage, diced potatoes, and eggs, which doesn't take him long at all. By the time Elia comes down stairs, he's already placing the food on the table.