Chapter Twenty-Four: Crimes & Punishment

Chapter Twenty-Four: Crimes & Punishment

I inhaled gaseous anger and exhaled fresh air.

My hand reached for the runestones within my purse and seized one filled with wind essence. I raised my weapon and unleashed the power within, allowing a mighty gust to pour out of cracked crystals. My tempest blew Sebastians berserk gas away from our troops and onto the Regents camp.

I had saved our soldiers from a terrible fate, but Sebastians actions spread confusion among the nearby guards. He exploited the opportunity to cut down a man-at-arms with a swift stroke of his sword. The disguised Soraseo lunged at him before he could escape the encirclement, her blade clashing with his. Sebastian fought with desperate fury, his blows a flurry of quick slashes, but Soraseo parried them all. She pushed him back among the men with a quick counterattack.

Take him alive! I shouted to the soldiers, my voice drowned out by the noise of blowing horns, desperate shouts, and the thundering steps of the golems. Maintain formation!

I was wasting my breath. What Archfrosts armies lacked in numbers compared to the likes of the Everbright Empire, they made up for in discipline and martial excellence. Two knights quickly grabbed one of Sebastians arms and slammed him head-first into the mud. A third swiftly stomped the squires hand with his armored feet, forcing him to drop his weapon.

Break his fingers, I ordered while drawing my own rapier. Though I disliked it, I proceeded to stab Sebastian in the knees while my soldiers obeyed my order. A muffled scream of pain, surprise, and anger followed, alongside a sickening cracking sound and a fine drizzle of blood feeding the grass below. Sebastian Leclerc wouldnt run away. In fact, I doubted he would walk straight or wield a weapon ever again. Soraseo watched the scene without a word, her weapon ready to strike at the first sign of a demonic transformation.

We had faced too many foes with unnatural resilience to take risks with this one.

My relief was short-lived. While the enemy soldiers closest to our position had fallen into a murderous frenzy after inhaling the berserk gas, attacking each other as much as our own advancing infantry, the two golems did not slow down in the slightest. Their metal legs trampled their own fortifications. Their greatswords cut down knights to ribbons, and their ballista arms pointed at us.

Or more precisely, at the disguised Soraseo.

She seemed to realize the problem at the same time I did. I will take care of them, she said, her voice still sounding like that of Roland. You take the traitor.

She didnt wait for an answer. My heart pounded louder than the drum as I watched her run on foot towards the giant machines, jumping over a trench blade in hand. The closest golem fired an iron projectile before she could hit the ground. Soraseo twisted in midair like a dancer executing a well-rehearsed move, the attack missing by an inch and landing on uneven ground instead.

Normal soldiers would have frozen in shock at such a display of grace. Golems didnt have enough mental faculties for surprise, let alone admiration. The one closest to Soraseo just swung its sword in a sweeping motion that shattered spikes and men alike. My friend dodged like the wind and retaliated by striking the machines heel. She might as well have grazed a stone statue with a butter knife. Her sword grazed the machines steel plates without inflicting any visible damage.

I admit that seeing these machines in action filled me with admiration and revulsion in equal measures. Creating a golem was considered the pinnacle of witchcrafting, and more often than not one of its greatest sins. To infuse stone and steel with the will and power to move, a witchcrafter needed more than mere essence. They needed souls. The bigger the golem, the more trapped spirits that were required. Id heard Irem managed to create automatons without that ghastly requirement at the cost of limited autonomy.

Marikas husband showed no such concern for ethics. He had been willing to murder his own son after all. Now that the golems had come closer, my essence sight picked up the truth in all of its nauseating details.

Their creator hadnt just trapped souls inside these machines, no. To ensure they would obey orders, he shackled them with pain, drowned their will in a sea of curses, and wove controlling mechanisms within the joints. I could hear them screaming from here.

Another answered their call for help.

Cortaner, himself more steel than flesh, emerged from the trenches with burning hands and steady determination. He leaped off the ground with speed and agility beguiling his heavy body. I caught a whiff of wind essence surging from his iron boots and carrying him up. He landed on the second golems head, the one Soraseo hadnt engaged yet, his mighty hands grabbing the golems helmet. The machine raised its sword to intercept him, but our Inquisitor proved faster. His gauntlets ripped off the golems head in a fearsome display of inhuman strength. Gears and iron wires flew in all directions while the head rolled off the metal shoulders and fell onto the ground.

It didnt stop the machine, no. I suspected the head was more cosmetic than anything. But the display of heroic strength more than inspired our soldiers in the face of danger.

Archfrost! Men shouted, from both our camp and that of the enemies. More and more warriors picked up the cry. Archfrost! Archfrost!

A war horn echoed and the battlefield took life on all sides. Captains on warhorses barked orders to knights and pikemen. Bowmen fired arrows from the enemy camp and received a volley of crossbow bolts in return. Standard bearers raised their flags, encouraging armed infantrymen and soldiers to advance in good order. Our troops came bolting in behind us, advancing behind walls of shields and pikes. Marika was still in the trenches, building bridges from nothing to help our soldiers storm the enemy camp. The war drums became so close their beats drowned the clatter of bashed shields and clashing weapons. Trumpets answered them, though I couldnt tell if they were our own or the enemys.

I felt ill at ease when I witnessed this tide of blood and metal crash on enemy fortifications. Whereas Soraseo navigated the chaos like a fish in a river, I struggled to keep pace with the actions unfolding before my eyes. It was the Knot of Wrath's attack on Snowdrift all over again, except a hundred times worse. Some men reveled in war and its glories, but I couldn't see anything appealing in this bloody, senseless chaos.

Im the Merchant, I thought as a hail of ten arrows fell just short of my feet. The enemy archers struggled to aim correctly in the dark. My job is to prevent this kind of disaster, not participate in it.

I'd do my duty as a Hero, but the quicker we ended this civil war the better. Letting it start at all felt halfway like a defeat to me.

That wasnt Roland, the captive Sebastian rasped at my side. Two knights held him on his bleeding feet, his broken hands bound behind his back. The real one wouldnt keep such a cool head. And you, Lord Robin I saw you inhale the gas and yet you show no symptoms. Antidote?

It took Colmar two nights to invent one and three of mine to fill our soldiers drinks with it, I replied. While I dearly wanted to assist my allies against these creatures, I had another job to fulfill: securing our invaluable prisoner. Lets take him off the field and back to the reserve.

Back to the real Roland.

My escort quickly bound our prisoners hands and feet with ropes while I searched him. It didnt take me long to find a familiar, ghoulish golden coin hidden beneath Sebastians breastplate.

If you were a demon, you would have transformed by now, I said. It made sense he wasnt one. Demons were relatively easy for us Heroes to detect. Who gave you this coin? You were under surveillance for days, so how did you get it?

You still dont understand, Lord Robin, the squire said with a crooked smile. Nobody gives us the Devil Coins. They find their way to those who need them on their own.

It wont find its way to you again, I replied before putting the cursed coin in my purse. I climbed back onto Mudkeeps back and gestured at two knights from my escort. You, with me. The others will cover us.

Since I am still alive, I assume you figured out the truth and mean to interrogate me, Sebastian said with incredible composure as my soldiers hauled him on Mudkeeps back like a bag of meat. I had played enough card games to recognize a cheater waiting to reveal the ace up his sleeve. He was convinced we couldnt hope to keep him for long. You havent answered my query, Lord Robin. When did you start to suspect me?

I shrugged as I gave my horse a light push. When your blood test came back as a paternity one.

I galloped with my escort away from the frontline and towards the Volvoga River. I was no owl, so I struggled to see much of the action in the darkness. From the looks of it, Marika had created a pathway through the enemy fortifications which led directly into their camp. Our cavalry was starting to storm it.

However, both golems continued to rampage through our troops. Soraseo had wisely lured one away from our troops so she could handle it without risking anyone else dying in the crossfire. The second one had tossed Cortaner against wooden spikes, shattering the latter, and then swiftly moving on towards Marikas breach. Neither our heavy lancers spears nor crossbow bolts dented its steely armor.

Did Marikas husband put a directive in his creations heads to target his ex-wife? I could only pray Marika could hold on. She was talented and heavily protected, but these giants of steel packed as much power as demons.

Against my better judgment, I intended to return as soon as I delivered Sebastian into safe hands. I would summon siege engines within firing range of the camp. A good catapult shot might prove powerful enough to take down the golems.

Paternity? Sebastians smile faded away. Ah, I see how it is. She took more from her mother, but she has my eyes. They all have my eyes.

I had Colmar compare your blood to that of Alaire, expecting you to be half-siblings. So imagine my surprise when the test identified you as her father instead. I looked over my shoulder and glared at my captive. You look pretty young for someone way over thirty, Sebastian Leclerc.

Thirty? The number seemed to amuse him again. Oh, Lord Robin, Im older than this country.

Which made the fact he had been developing a relationship with Roland since the latter was a teenager all the more repugnant. I feared what my friends reaction to the truth would be, but he deserved to know. He needed to see it with his own eyes.

If you are so old, then I assume that Minister Leclerc is just another of your bastards? A decoy meant to attract suspicion while you act unnoticed? I asked without receiving an answer. What I cannot confirm yet is how you managed to craft this disguise of youth. My power cannot grant back lost years.

Surely someone as cunning as you must have considered other alternatives, my captive replied. One cannot regain time lost, but one can trade a face, a body, youth If you look sixteen, does it matter how old you are on the inside?

What matters is that youve lost, I replied as we galloped past knights moving in the other direction. The battle was moving away behind us, yet I smelled a foul stench of blood and rot coming from the river. What was the meaning of this?

Lost? Sebastian stifled a laugh. Were you not a gambler once? Dont you know the proverb? It matters not who plays. The house always wins. It does not matter to us who wins this battle, so long as it happens.

No massacre will happen today, I countered. Your troops will be routed and reinforcements will return home.

My prisoner chuckled. Dont you feel it in the air?

I clenched my teeth. I did feel it, yes. The hatred. The invisible, corrupted essence choking the air. The same feeling of unease and filth that filled the Gilded Wolfs arena right before it erupted into a Blight. I felt it in the air, in the smell of blood, in the smoke rising from the warfires.

The land of Archfrost is soaked with innocent blood, Sebastian gloated. The wars and plagues have filled the graves. The wind carries howls of hatred. The very ground bears stirring curses. The Berserk Flame burns with malice, heralding its masters return.

Im sorry, Roland, I apologized to him. He didnt seem to hear me. Youre better than him.

He is a weakling, a spoiled brat sired by an equally incompetent father, Sebastian replied.

Shut up, I replied, taking a step forward to silence him only to stop when I heard a sound coming from Dolganov.

The demon knights hand was stirring.

A bastard dog so desperate as to spread his ass to the first person willing to give him a shred of affection. But then again Sebastians smile turned crueler. You like your weapons big, except the one that matters.

I turned my head to warn Roland of Dolganovs survival, only to freeze upon meeting Rolands gaze. A terrible anger had filled the emptiness. His eyes burned with the same murderous fury as Florence and Belgoroths servants.

Your sword, Robin, the prince ordered with a calm, steady voice. "Give me your sword."

I didnt comply. Instead, I stood in his way. Roland, we need him alive

Roland shoved me aside so violently that my metal breastplate bent slightly under the pressure of his monstrous strength. I fell to my back while Roland stepped forward towards Sebastian; only stopping to pick up a half-broken spear lying on the ground. Sebastian raised his broken hand, once again channeling darkness through it.

You killed her, Roland said coldly.

I watched as the essence in Sebastians hand fizzled out.

She loved you, and you killed her, Roland continued, his Class guiding his words to do the most damage. As he'd warned me in Snowdrift, the Knight's power knew intuitively how to use words as weapons, even when its wielder wouldn't understand why they would hurt. You could have saved her, and you did nothing. She burned to death calling out your name. You failed to save her, and you will fail to avenge her.

Sebastian let out a snarl and fired an orb. Roland easily deflected it with a swing of his spear, and then brought down his weapon onto his squires shoulder. The blade punched through armor and flesh alike, pinning his former lover to the ground.

I lurched to my feet while Dolganov struggled to rise up. My eyes wandered from him to Roland, whose left hand was glowing. I saw a golden light pouring from under his gauntlet when he twisted the spear inside Sebastians shoulder, relishing in the traitors pain and suffering. The Knights mark was acting up.

Mine burned against my skin, the same way it had when I tried to purchase a soul. A dire warning.

My first order of business should have been to keep Dolganov down for the count, but all my instincts screamed at me that a greater danger approached. I noticed flashes of skulls in the wind, corpses stirring in the bloody grass and the cold river, and that bloody smell now growing foul enough to make me nauseous.

Roland ripped his spear from Sebastians shoulder and raised it above his heart. The bloodied squire whispered something, a final plea.

I yield.

Roland froze for a brief instant, his spear raised above his helpless foe. Sebastian had used all his vitality to fuel his spell, leaving him frail and withered. He could hardly raise a hand, let alone defend himself. He was beaten and yet he was smiling.

I saw it clear as day. The Knots true plan for Roland was as cruel as it was brilliant. Why Sebastian had let himself be brought back to the prince he had so thoroughly betrayed.

I saw a furious Knight raising his bloodied spear to strike down an unarmed, yielding opponent begging for mercy; his mind clouded by betrayal, his mouth frothing with his fallen predecessors anger. His mark burned brightly to warn him away from a sin it would not, could not tolerate. It had seen where that path led a long time ago.

For the Knight fights for justice and chivalry. The Class embodies the ideal warrior, who draws their blade only to defend the dignity of the weak and fights only to win. To torture a helpless man, even a foe, and then strike him down while he begged for mercy went against all that the Knight represented.

When I violated the rules of my Class, I received a warning because I attempted the wrong trade out of ignorance. But from the pained expression on Rolands face and the way he struggled to hold his own spear as his mark burned beneath his glove, he had to understand he was going against his Knight Class will.

He was simply too angry to care.

When Roland brought down his weapon, I knew what would follow. His victims blood would fall onto the mark and stain it red. The Knight would revel in the wrathful murder and bask in the corruption of this emerging Blight. The curse that the Knots had methodically cultivated in Archfrost would find a vessel in which to incarnate. I would witness a new demons baptism.

At best, the mark would kill Roland on the spot rather than let itself be corrupted; at worst, it would fail, and we would have two Belgoroths to deal with.

So I ran, shouting, Roland, enemy behind you!

Even in his angry daze, my warning startled Roland enough for him to look over his shoulder. He saw no one. No one but me rushed at him. I ignored the wounded Dolganov rising again behind, the clash of our soldiers holding the river, and even the explosions echoing in the distance from the enemy camp.

I tackled Roland to the ground before he could land the final blow.

What are you doing?! he snarled as we tumbled in the bloody grass away from Sebastian.

Saving your life! I shouted back while trying to hold him the best I could. I might as well be wrestling with a bear. I somehow managed to make him lose his hold on his spear at least. And your soul!

Let me go! Roland was still angry, but at least he had temporarily forgotten about Sebastian. Instead, he pushed me off him and sent my purse falling off my belt.

A golden coin escaped it.

My eyes widened in astonishment as it bounced away from us. It shouldnt have gotten that far, not on such uneven ground. But it did. It was as if an invisible hand guided the Devil Coin into another.

Sebastians.

My mark burned so hot I thought it would melt my hand.

So much for that plan I heard him rasp with anger, his gray eyes glaring at me. He raised his prize in his bloody palm. Lady Daltia, Devil of Greed and Golden Strategist! Ive come to bargain!

The Devil Coin glowed brighter than the sun and painted the world with gold.

A tide of color overwhelmed the battlefield and silenced its cacophony. The blowing wind, the clashing of swords and shields, the croaks, and the howls all were snuffed out like candlelight and replaced with oppressive silence.

The very world had become stiff and still. The land and sky now shared a golden hue, clouds of smoke and blades of grass alike frozen halfway through their movements. Roland had turned into a statue of gold, his paralyzed hands struggling to shove me back. His soldiers, the beastmen, even Dolganov shared his fate. All had become petrified statues trapped in a cocoon of glittering wealth.

The march of time had come to an abrupt stop. I was alone in a silent world.

Almost alone.

Sebastian was still bleeding to death, holding onto his cursed coin as he looked up into the sky. A great bright light was falling upon him from above. I looked up at its source, my mark burning against my skin.

The Goddess Herself descended from the heavens.

Or at least, that was how that woman first appeared to me. Her ethereal beauty left me short of breath. Her unblemished skin seemed carved from white marble, her fair face perfectly chiseled by an expert artist. She looked young, yet with the wisdom and maturity of a divine figure. Desirable, yet unattainable. Humanly familiar, yet heavenly distant.

Her long floating hair was woven from silver threads and held by a gilded crown mimicking feathers. It didnt shine half as bright as the four wings of solid gold spouting from her back and carrying her down to earth. Her regal, silken dress floated as if blown by an invisible wind. Every single part of her attire screamed wealth; but a true goddess would have nothing to prove, would she? As beautiful as this figure was, she was simply a counterfeit trying to copy and usurp the real deal.

The golden skull-faced coin mark on her left hand, so similar to mine, only further unveiled the deception.

The figure descended towards Sebastian like the true Goddess once descended upon Pangeal, a long gilded scroll unfurling in her hands. Yet her golden eyes paid little attention to Sebastian, who had summoned her in the first place. The Devil of Greed smiled mischievously at me; her expression felt ungodly familiar, even though I couldnt recognize her visage.

Hello Robin, she said with a sweet singing voice carrying a thousand promises. Do you want to make a deal?