The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 813: The Sadian People

Far north, over the mountain peaks of the Dorchestrian landscape, after the lands runs into the sea, and where the sea continues till another continent, reaches a place where sailors pray to the lady of the sea for good fortune and safe passage. The sea was bountiful, and how much gave was naught compared to how much she took, the graveyard of the Arie Bay, the cursed sea of the southern sea-port of Meltia.

“They’re over the border,” cried soldiers wearing Alphian uniform. Night conquered the faded evening hue, street lanterns lit. The sandy stone paths, muddled by the wet footwear of the various traders and visitors, headed within the town-wall. The stone barrier perimeter around Meltia, tall and ominous, bore the crest of the church shy off the main entrance. Guards atop said barrier ran to and fro – as it happened, Meltia, located inside Ease was one of five provinces consisting the country of Waiwia.

“What’s the matter?” inquired a gray-haired lady.

“Highness,” they bowed, “-the enemy has launched an attack,” reported the man, “-a force of a few thousand made their way around the Akine Mountain range. Orders have been given to fortify the forward outpost.”

“Very brave of them, the number of men who die traversing the Akine mountain reaches into the hundreds. I wonder if the Emperor has gone insane,” she spun and glanced at the array of roofs and winding paths of which ended at the sea, on the port.

“Attack!” rang bells throughout the town, “-WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” Movement at said port ran inward. A green-hue enveloped the lady, her grey hair soon swayed indifferent to the flowing wind.

‘An attack?’ she dove straight for the town-center, houses were lit ablaze. A band of leathery-armored bearded men slaughtered their way inside, blood-washed their faces, the innocent dropped at their feet. Amidst the smokey cacophony, she scanned and locked on a sword readying its blade at a child’s neck, “-STOP!” palm to the attack, the sword crumbled into nothing.

.....

“If it’s not the princess of Alphia,” said a tall beast ruffling through the army of giants. Light but gave a glimpse in form of an outline. A wave of the hand sent the attacker, who in all respect was muscular and intimidating, against an adjacent wall. The petrified little kid stared the man of which had reached the size of a house, “-scurry along, kid,” he said, “-when we kill, we kill without discrimination. Tis the way of the Sadian people.”

“HIGHNESS!” soldiers from Alphia swarmed the empty space between her and him, “-please take cover!” they said, “-we’ll take care of them, worry not.”

“Worry they say,” thundered the beast, “-take it from a man who’s lived on the edge of insanity. Once blood flows, we stop at nothing to take everything,” he rose, straightened the slouched position into looking above few walls, “-HEAR ME ALL!” the voice resounded, “-SHOW THEM WHAT THE SADIAN PEOPLE CAN DO!” a blow of a horn rattled the pensive silence, “-eat to thy heart’s content!”

“YAAHHHH!” walks leaped into sprints, the mass of warriors increased, they seemed to multiply in the shadows. Skills and spells were conjured on the Alphian side, guns were fired, the echoes flashed down alleys and silent roads, alas, greater trouble brewed over the wall. The hired army, after losing many men on their march, successfully captured the Mountain pass outpost. From there, vehicles loaded with blood-thirsty men drove into town – what followed was a scene unlike any she had seen. People were cut down, women were taken, children put onto curbs and stomped, there was no hiding.

The princess’ attempts at fighting was returned with a brazen chuckle, “-superhuman powers aren’t effective on us,” said the beast, “-listen to me,” he grabbed her throat and squeezed, “-we evolved to harbor the blood of Exnia, the dragon-kin of the Northwest.”

“Enough,” said a band of silhouettes dressed in white and gold, “-Erak, your duty was to capture the town without casualties,” a light-haired man leaped and floated down to the beast’s shoulder.

“Lord Kure,” the grip eased, “-I thought this princess was supposed to be strong. I’m disappointed.”

‘Strong,’ she barely breathed, ‘-my powers are being nullified,’ desperate attempts at checking her surrounding ended in vain.

“You want to look around?” he grinned, “-then, LOOK!” Red, red, red, nothing but red, ambers of fire in the distance, broken houses, naked women, they pillaged, raped and took everything.

“Barbarians,” said the man in white, “-let the princess live. She’s worth her weight in gold.”

“She’s attractive, I’d like to have a taste of royalty.”

“No, no,” said the light-haired man, “-would be wise to listen,” a heaviness rose the hair on his back, a pair of scarlet-colored pupils went up and down.

“Bringing that thing here?” the grip eased, “-I’ve seen barbarians in my day, she’s worse than us, and it’s saying something.” The band of white drifted at the pace to surround the immobile princess.

“War is a funny thing,” said the man, “-they’re allowed to kill and pillage. The gods have granted us full authority in choosing who is to live,” the seemingly innocent gaze wrapped into a sadistic dance, “-princess Lofta...”

“Enough, you’re scaring the prisoner,” cuffed tightly gripped her wrists.

Face in his palm, “-forgive me, I got lost in the moment. We report to the bishop. Kill the remaining survivors – the cleansing of Meltia will be completed under the cleansing full-moon.”

“Are you going to lock me up?” she coughed, the location swapped for a lonesome roof-top. The light-haired man had his shoulder against a chimney, the view gave onto a fierce town square. Survivors were rounded – many were burnt on stakes, and some beheaded. The process wasn’t easy, a blunt ax meant a few swings – the screams grew to be a melody quite common to his ears.

The clean-shaven jaw casually veered in her direction, where she knelt with hands and feet tied to the very same chimney, “-alive are we?”

A crude annoyed glare returned, this, broke the man’s composed frown, “-scowling won’t do much. Well, my sister did do a number on that pretty little visage of yours. She hates pretty things, especially those who are loved. I imagine, a torn face without a nose is something of a fetish to some?” he shuffled and knelt, “-yes, to the desperate sinners who live under the capital, working their day and night powering the furnace with their mana. You’ll make a great distraction,” he grabbed her chin, “-a very great distraction. Imagine the line of men waiting to have a shot at making love to someone else than their fellow comrades.”

“Do what you wish,” she lunged forth in attempts to bite his finger, “-I’ll never yield, never!”

“Never?” he stood and kicked, the foot cleanly took her head and threw her towards the end, “-look there,” he jumped and stood on her bleeding head, “-they’re being cleansed under the moon. Perhaps the same is to happen to you, worshipper of the heathen gods. The church always has and always will have the power to rival the world. We’re the righteous one, our god is the epitome of power and strength, nothing like the pagan gods you worship.”

Her blurry sight barely made sense of the devastation, “-someone will come,” she coughed, “-and when that someone comes... you’ll all pay. I believe in him,” she pushed to voice her resolve, “-my death will serve a single purpose,” she pushed herself off the edge, “-and tis to piss off the slumbering devil,” the body hit the cold floor with a few cracks.

“What happened to the prisoner?” inquired a returning figure in white.

“She committed suicide,” he said, “-her resolve to die was admirable. Sinners they are – all living things have a say in how they die. Whether we decide or not, tis for the gods to oversee. What did the bishop say?”

“He asks for Lord Paladin to gather the Guardian Saints of the four cardinal sects. His imperial majesty has decreed for us to take action against Easel Run Gard.”

“It’s about time,” he laughed, “-I will make sure they listen to us. What of the summoned heroes?”

“They’re serving a great purpose in giving their love and compassion to our servants. Many of the devotees have been blessed with their seed.”

“Good, the stronger the hero, the more potent his offspring to be. The new archbishop sure is a man without limits. I admire him,” they leaped, “-our job is complete.”

‘I survived, I can’t feel my legs, the restraints are off,’ a greenish hue covered her body, ‘-I have to make it to the settlement, even if it kills me, I have to make it home.’

11th January X111 – a few weeks elapsed since the breaking of Ariel. Much deliberation went into the people’s council, and after much effort, the Gaien Council grew to their own meeting. They rose many issues by the current regime – Alta and her overwhelmingly combative spirit shot down various selfish claims. To have a say, one needed a good argument, and good arguments are often met by the strongest of rebuttal. In a way, the bait of the people’s council was but a distraction method to veer the public’s attention to the change of power. In the end, a new hierarchy took precedence over the rulership. Igna sat at the top – it was decided only matters needing his assistance would be brought to the table, in addition to the ease in workload, as king, he had full authority to introduce new policies without consulting anyone. A royal decree was and still remains the strongest shot a king can use.

The council of nobles and people, even though the name Gaien was objectively made in favor of the people, two factions accepted the shared name. Nobles represented the royal faction as for the people faction, they were represented by traders and competent leaders chosen by the people. They had a voice in how the kingdom moved forward.

“The meeting ended without incidents,” said éclair.

“Yes, the debates were grounded and realist. We’ve appeased the masses, right?”

“Not really, we have the matter pertaining to the revolting faction led by the Goldberg dynasty. Many Counts and Barons have sided with them.”

“I see,” they made echoes around the castle, “-have Jonny make his way to their estate.”

“Will do, majesty,” the corridor ended into an open-space of statues and paintings, “-majesty!” hailed a voice to the side.

“Alta,” the fast-pace walk halted, “-it’s about Glenda,” she said, “-the town’s under strain from overpopulation.”

“The food?”

“We’re importing most of it, I asked the villages for help...”

“But they refused, it’s the changing of the seasons. Have the dwarves extent the town, we’ll go into Noctis’s hallow. I’m sure the Blood-King faction will accept long as we give them access.”

“Won’t the nightwalkers be a problem?”

“No, the only problem they have is boredom, have lady Elvira handle the negotiations. I’m sure Serene might be able to pull strings, speaking of which, what’s Julius up to?”

“He’s taken for Easel Run Gard earlier this week.’

“So much happening. I’ll fly Starix from Alphia, he’ll help us manage till we’re able to steady our breathing.”

“Understood, majesty,” and thus, the very energetic Alta skipped her way outside the hall. There was a change, Igna granted her the Nox’s clan curse – she became a nightwalker, one very strong and of Marchioness rank.

“I’ll excuse myself,” bowed éclair, “-later, my lord.”

“Take care,” he smiled, “-prime minister.”

“Ha-ha.”

The hectic day-to-day life finally allowed a moment’s break. He took off the suit jacket and made way for the Queen’s study, a stacked library of olden books and oval-shaped terrace gave onto the Rosespire’s cityscape.

“It’s you,” said an audibly irritated voice.

“Right,” he stepped inside, “-it’s the promiscuous queen.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he climbed the stairs.

“And I wish I didn’t,” she lounged in skimpily on a beanbag, the face always mushed in a book, “-I’m not fooling around with anyone. I made the vow, a lady never makes wrong on her word.”

“Good,” he flung his jacket onto a nearby couch.

“Would it be hard to keep a conversation?”

“Depends, but I have the feeling you’d rather read than talk.”

“Good assessment.”

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