Chapter Forty-One: The Plan

Chapter Forty-One: The Plan

I looked upon Archfrosts capital with a heavy gaze.

When Koshro the Conqueror first unified the lands that would eventually become Archfrost through violence, he decided to raise a grand palace between the barren plains and cold rivers that used to be his tribes home. When his advisors suggested that he set up his capital in more fertile lands to the south, he famously replied that only hungry men could hope to rule.

Koshro died before he could see his palaces construction through and his dynasty hardly survived him by twenty years, but his future successors fulfilled his vision. The capital of Whitethrone looked more like an elegant fortress than a modern city from the clouds above. Mighty walls thrice thicker and twice taller than Snowdrifts protected well-ordered streets of bricks and ancient stone. Great statues of fallen knights oversaw rectangular plazas covered in mosaics representing dragons, griffins, dreadwolves, and other creatures. Whitethrones houses and buildings were taller than those of Walbourg; their architectural style more angular and less refined. I immediately recognized a tall marble tower fitting the description of Whitethrones famous witchcrafting academy and the holy mausoleum of Chernoglav, where the Priest-King rested. Thermal sources exhaled columns of white steam rising up to the sky.

However, all of these monuments existed in the shadow of the Winter Palace: a colossal castle of exquisitely crafted ice, with five snow towers and stalactite walls. A crystal briar labyrinth occupied the space between the outer and inner walls, alongside gardens kept warm by thermal sources. It was a magical place, a fleeting dream kept alive by the power of essence.

Koshros son, Koshrak, had ordered his witchcrafters to build it with ice that would never melt to show his mastery over the land. So great was his ego that he wished to tame the very heart of winter. The sorcerers fulfilled his request by infusing ice with adamantine essence, a costly process that bankrupted the fledgling dynasty and led to its collapse.

Still, Koshraks grandiose dream endured for centuries and came to represent kingship over the land. Rulers came and went, but the castle? The castle stood eternal. All would-be kings of Archfrost had fought to hold it.

And now its Rolands turn. I hoped my friend would keep the castle longer than his treacherous uncle did. Can the Berserk Flame melt eternal ice, I wonder?

Alaire and I stood along the airships guardrail, though she appeared more interested in my expression than the architectural marvels below us. Thats strange, she noted. Most cant contain their excitement when they see the first Winter Palace for the first time. I expected more enthusiasm from you, Robin.

Its a wonder to behold, I conceded. Stone would be more practical than ice if you ask me, but I admire the originality.

Not enough to smile, Alaire replied, her arms crossed. Youre afraid.

I gathered my breath. She knew me too well. I am.

A crown of souls and human desires. The more I pondered that possibility, the more I came to believe Daltia was indeed trying to craft an Artifact of her own. What other feat could prove her aptitude to replace the Goddess Herself in the hearts of men? She will create an Artifact that holds sway over the very soul of humanity.

Unlike the sky, the earth, the sea, and the fires of the world, the collective perception that ruled our Classes didnt depend on the Artifacts. Mankind unknowingly determined the shape of our powers through consensus. If Daltia succeeded in creating a crown capable of altering that flow of consciousness, it would strengthen the Merchant class until it became divine.

How much time did we have until the Devil of Greed completed her work? Years? Centuries? How many human souls did it take to create an Artifact? I suspected no one knew the answer, not even Daltia herself. She had spent seven centuries bartering for souls, hoping that the next trade would be the last.

No wonder Eris hunted the Devil Coins so relentlessly. I would discuss Daltias plan with her in private once we found a moment to. This might help jog her memory; gain insight into her other selfs plans.

I shook my head. Daltia was a long-term problem, and her divine ambitions to rule the world would come for naught if Belgoroth destroyed it first. My magical sight already picked up the subtle currents of wicked essence traveling north of Archfrost, like winds subtly announcing the onset of a storm.

Im a gambling man, but for the first time in a long while I dont see a clear path to victory, I admitted. We have options, but no guarantee that any of them will work.

I supposed I struggled most with my own powerlessness. While I had done my best to plot Belgoroths demise with my allies, we couldnt tell whether our strategies would succeed until we tried them. Worse, I would be forced to stay at the back. The clash in Walbourg had shown me just how little a Merchant factored in a clash of titans.

People like you make their own luck, Robin, Alaire replied. Have more faith in us. We will pull through.

I raised an eyebrow at her, amazed by her confidence. Since when did you become the optimist between us?

Since you helped me lift the burden of the Brynslow name off my shoulders, Alaire replied, a smile on her lips. You supported me when I was at my lowest point, Robin. Now it is my turn to lift you up.

We are pretty far up already. I chuckled and pointed at the clouds. Can Silverine carry us higher than the Vernisla?

She will, if you buy off some of her weight, Alaire joked back. My, she had truly changed if she was willing to indulge in my nonsense. I know what youre thinking, Robin. Ive been there too. It is not a good feeling to rely on others to win your battles, but sometimes you have to let go.

She did know me well. My eyes lingered on her mark. Your Class doesnt weigh on you like it does on Roland, I noted. Quite the contrary. It freed you.

It did. Alaire looked at the horizon and the mountains beyond. I am certain where I will go once we have defeated the Lord of Wrath and visited the Deadgate. The sky's the limit now.

Once we defeat Belgoroth; not if. Unlike me, Alaire didnt doubt our future victory. I had to admit her boldness rejuvenated my bravery. She has grown.

She had a point too. Alaire trusted me to pull Snowdrift back from the brink, and now it was my turn to believe she and the others could match Belgoroth in battle. Gold wasnt the only measure of wealth.

I was rich in powerful friends too.

The Vernisla slowly began its descent towards the capital. Archfrosts soldiers had cleared the citys largest plaza to make room for the airship and its guests. I could already see signs of festivities around the nearby streets: makeshift markets rising from nothing, crowds gathering to see the airships descent, throngs of visitors entering the capital through its gates

Rolands coronation should take place tomorrow, alongside the final signature of peace between Archfrost and Walbourg. My homelands people had two causes to celebrate after a decade of war and plague.

I couldnt let the Demon Ancestors take their happiness from them.

As expected, Roland awaited us alongside his future queen and a host of noble dignitaries. A cadre of Heroes escorted them: Eris, Cortaner, and even Colmar. His presence surprised me. My undead friend would never have left Snowdrift without having fully restrained the Blight in its midst. Moreover, he had brought Little Benicio with him. Marikas son nervously fidgeted in place, probably intimidated by the presence of so many adults around him, but his eyes lit up with excitement once he saw the Vernisla.

I took it as a good omen.

My gaze wandered to a new, yet familiar face among the crowd: a pale and fair beauty surrounded by a cadre of armored Penitent Ones, with long purple hair so dark it verged on black and eyes of glittering gold. Her regal black and red dress fluttered in the wind as she looked at the Vernisla. I immediately noticed an unmistakable physical resemblance to Selestine.

I quickly guessed the womans identity even before I noticed the golden symbol on her forehead: the holy mark of the four Artifacts bound inside a circle and crossed by the Old Erebian numeral for twenty-one.

Lysandra Alexios, Fatebinder of our age and mistress of the Arcane Abbey, had come to crown Roland and deal with the Reformists. She was the first and final Hero, whose Class commanded all others; and the woman with the answers I sought.

The Vernisla softly landed in the plaza far more easily than it did in Walbourg. Whitethrones architects designed the capitals streets to be large in order to let armies ride through them more easily, so our dear Captain Marika enjoyed more space to navigate. I climbed down first alongside Alaire, with Selestine and our fellow Heroes in tow as royal trumpets announced our coming.

Roland and his queen were the first to greet us. Welcome home, my friends, he said upon warmly shaking our hands one after the other, while Therese exchanged a kiss on the cheek with Alaire. I have missed you.

So did I, I replied with a smile. Is it proper for a king to shake hands with us commoners?

Arent we all equals in the Goddess eyes as fellow Heroes? Roland teased me back before kissing Selestines hand. Lady Selestine, I presume? As the Priest, what is your opinion?

Whether kings or peasants, all lives should be treated with equal fairness, she replied calmly, though her gaze mostly lingered on the Fatebinder.

Lady Alexios took a step forward to greet us, with Cortaner, Eris, and Colmar at her back. She and Selestine faced each other, a tense silence stretching between them. Anyone could have sensed the I wouldnt say hostility, but both clearly shared a mutual defiance.

Selestine, Lady Alexios said, a hint of cold distance in her voice.

We meet again, my aunt, Selestine replied with a respectful, if tense bowing gesture. I pray that you enjoyed a safe trip.

Mine was less grandiose than yours. The Fatebinder looked up at the Vernisla. What a wonder your generation has built. A dragon of steel and skill.

Ours doesnt breathe fire yet, I said while kissing Lady Alexios hand, as custom demanded. As I suspected, her skin felt as inhumanly hot as her nieces. It is an honor to meet you in the flesh, Lady Alexios.

The feeling is mutual, Lord Waybright. Eris has spoken highly of you, and tales of your successes have reached as far as Mount Erebia. Her words sounded sincere, if aloof. I could tell that this woman had none of Selestines gentleness. The Goddess smiles on your generation.

As she smiled on the first? As her voice, I hoped you would enlighten us, I replied politely. We have many questions.

Your Alchemist pressed me with inquiries the moment we met. Thankfully, Lady Alexios did not deny my request. I hoped to oversee a council of Heroes once these greetings conclude. We are running out of time.

Soraseo squinted behind me and then asked, How much?

A days time at best, Lady Alexios replied. From the certainty in her voice, I guessed she had a way of checking on the Demon Ancestors seals from afar. But we shall discuss it in private.

I glanced at the crowd of dignitaries around us. I had no doubt that Cortaner probably investigated each of them and identified who among them would belong to the Knots. However, an ounce of caution never killed anyone.

I moved aside as the Walbourg delegation climbed down from the airship. I watched on with apprehension as Duchess Griselda appeared. Roland greeted her with a brief, baleful look of pure resentment, as I would expect from someone meeting with his fathers killer. From the way Griseldas guards kept their hands on their swords hilts, they feared a fight too.

Thankfully, my trust in both parties proved well-earned. Roland gathered his breath and then offered his hand to Griselda in friendship. The duchess hesitated an instant before returning the gesture. I watched on in respectful silence as Walbourg and Archfrost finally agreed to peace.

Colmar, Cortaner, and Eris soon joined me. My, my, the latter said with a sly smile. Here I feared that they would kill each other on sight.

Men are flawed, I replied, but they can learn to be better.

Something a certain Lord of Wrath never understood, Eris conceded.

Even Cortaner seemed optimistic about this resolution. I sensed no lies in their exchanges, he told me. You have done well, Waybright.

A compliment from you, Corty? Eris asked with a raised eyebrow. And its not even backhanded? I am shocked.

Do not toy with me, Belarra, the Inquisitor replied sternly. I find your behavior highly suspicious. Lady Alexios trust does not keep you above reproach.

I immediately came to her defense. Eris is flighty sometimes, but trustworthy.

Roland remained lost. You wish me to sell you all of the worlds wrath?

No, no, no. I smirked from ear to ear. You will sell me the swords connection to it.

What difference does it make? Cortaner asked sharply.

A big one, I replied. On the way to Walbourg, I attempted to transfer essence to an object unsuited to hold it. It immediately crumbled under the strain.

Soulforged Adamantine focuses a concepts flow of essence into a conduit, Eris explained. Consider it like damming a river so wild and powerful that only adamantine can hold it back. Anything else is instantly destroyed.

A Demon Ancestor is akin to a clock, I further elaborated. They are fueled by an intricate mechanism that feeds on itself. The Demon Ancestor bound their souls to Soulforged Adamantine. To soulforge their adamantine in the first place, they used ancient witchcrafting techniques to connect their chosen item to a concept like wrath. The connection constantly feeds them with wicked essence that grants them immense power, corrupts their mark, and turns the seat of their soul indestructible. Henceforth, we have only two solutions to break down the machinery: end the very concept of wrath, which sounds impractical for now

Or cut Belgoroth off from it, Roland guessed, his eyes alight with enthusiasm.

I nodded in confirmation and then turned to Roland. If you sell me that connection as a package with a common itemlike say, a piece of clothingthe flow of corrupt essence will instantly destroy it. The object will crumble to dust under the weight of all Pangeals anger.

Roland shifted in his seat. Wouldnt it release the essence immediately? The Blight that would arise from it would dwarf all others.

Robin wont buy the essence itself, Marika countered. He will buy the connection between the sword and the concept of wrath. The small, intricate gear that keeps the clock turning.

Lady Alexios nodded in assent. Without a connection to the sword, the essence should simply revert back to its pre-Belgoroth state: aimless and everpresent. Anger will continue to exist, but it wont coalesce into a physical incarnation.

Belgoroths sword will become a prison for his soul, Colmar muttered to himself. As an undead himself, he would know. Without access to wrathful essence, he will be unable to recreate a body for himself and his weapon will revert back to common adamantine: near-indestructible, but no longer impervious to damage.

It was the old Merchants mark that had made the Demon Ancestors; henceforth the new one should unmake them. At least I hoped so.

We could then purify the sword in a sanctuary, clean the mark, and eventually destroy the now breakable sword to exorcize Belgoroths soul for good, Selestine confirmed, albeit with a grim scowl. If King Roland survives it.

A tense silence followed. Most of us had already brushed with Belgoroths influence, whether by confronting his Blights or fighting him head-on in Walbourg. I would never forget that overwhelming evil radiating from his Berserk Flame. A mere sliver of the Lord of Wraths essence would drive anyone mad. Our Classes had shielded our minds from his influence, but to hold the very core of his power might prove too much for them.

I exchanged a glance with Roland. Our Knight understood the risk all too well. After all, he had nearly fallen the same way Belgoroth did. Holding his foul sword might trigger his marks safeguards to prevent its corruption or worse.

I didnt have my mark when I first saw the sword, Marika replied grimly. Even in its sealed state, it corrupted my lowlife husband into a monster and nearly threatened to drive me mad. To hold it at full power She shook her head. I do not think any normal human could resist it.

Hence why I wished to interrogate the Fatebinder. She alone might reassure us.

Would a Hero, Lady Alexios? I asked her. Would the Knights mark shield Roland from the swords power?

The Fatebinder pondered my question for a long, agonizing minute. I took the fact that she even hesitated as a frightful warning sign.

I cannot say, she finally admitted.

My jaw clenched on its own. Her answer disappointed us all, though none more than Colmar.

You cannot say? my undead friend asked in disbelief. You are the Fatebinder. No one should know more about the marks than you do.

This situation would be unprecedented, Lord Alchemist, Lady Alexios replied calmly. I suspect that if our ancient predecessors considered this option at all, they deemed the risk too great and elected to seal the Demon Ancestors instead.

An option that we lack now, Selestine muttered in disappointment. So we would take a gamble?

I can attest to this: the new marks were designed to avoid corruption by their holder. Lady Alexios gave Rolands mark a sharp look. If our Lord Knight fails to resist the swords influence, then the Class will kill him and return to me.

Alaire, who had listened in silence so far, finally rushed to Rolands defense. We cannot take that risk, she said sternly. Archfrost has no heir. If Roland dies, it will spark another civil war.

Therese and I have Roland blushed brighter than a rose. We have taken the necessary steps to avoid that outcome, with Colmars assistance.

Alaires eyes widened in shock, as did mine.

You Alaire stared at Roland, her words dying in her throat. Is Therese

Roland let out a heavy breath. She is.

I have already overseen artificial insemination on medically-impaired couples in the past, Colmar confirmed. The procedure worked as expected. The child should develop without any complications.

I dared not ask for medical details. Those didnt matter anyway. Roland and Therese wouldnt love each other the way parents should, but I knew that they would shower their child with affection.

You took a great burden for our country, I told Roland. I sympathize.

Archfrost needs an heir for its stability, Roland replied with a grim scowl. Especially if I am to fall in battle.

I prayed it wouldnt come to that, but I anticipated casualties too. We would still have to confront Belgoroth in the field even if we didnt proceed with my scheme.

Your plan is full of holes, Waybright, Cortaner said, his voice laced with skepticism. First of all, we must slay the Lord of Wrath, which will prove exceedingly difficult. Second, our Knight must hold the sword before its owner returns from the dead. Third, he must be in a state where he can consent to a trade with you. Fourth, you must also live long enough to agree to the trade.

I agree it is by far our riskiest option, albeit the one with the highest rewards, I replied. We have considered other strategies to restrain Belgoroth, but I doubt any of them will contain him for long.

The choice belongs to Roland, Soraseo decided. What will you do?

Roland scowled in silence as all eyes turned in his direction. I had no doubt that he would take the risk for his homelands sake, the same way I was willing to fight against an enemy that trumped us all in strength and cruelty. However, he still harbored a doubt.

Lady Alexios, if you will forgive me a question before I answer this one. Roland faced the Fatebinder. Why us?

Lady Alexios brow arched slightly.

Why were we chosen? Roland raised his hand and the mark glowing brightly on his skin; the holy symbol he nearly threatened to stain in an act of fury. The question has bothered me for a long time. Were we truly the best choices available? Or people in the right place at the right time?

You were not chosen because you were the best, Lord Knight, the Fatebinder replied. You were chosen because you would fight for the dignity of the weak.

The dignity of the weak? I glanced at my own mark, as did a few of us. How could my Class know that I would fight for that?

The Goddess once selected the worlds greatest merchant to receive her mark, the Fatebinder said. A girl whose wits and ambition allowed her to become Pangeals wealthiest woman. To her, every human interaction served to amass wealth in the service of a grander purpose, until humans became a commodity like any other.

Eris remained as stone-faced as an ancient mountain, her grip on her staff tightening.

Belgoroth was the finest knight of his time, Lady Alexios continued. Valorous, honorable, righteous so righteous that his purity turned into intolerance. When reality failed to conform to his impossible ideals, he began to see faults in everything except himself.

The Fatebinder looked at our reflection in the rooms mirror. What a disparate motley of Heroes we made. I have long wondered why the Goddess bestowed her marks on the Demon Ancestors. I would have expected maybe one of the seven to abuse their powers, but all of them? For a long time, I wondered if our creator acted out of malice. It was only when I became the Fatebinder that I understood the truth.

Lady Alexios rose from her chair while we remained seated. Her shadow loomed over us, which I realized neatly illustrated her point.

When you stand at the apex of the world, she said, You can only look down on others.

Then it struck me. I glanced at my comrades. A woman cheated by her husband; an undead desperately trying to save lives after losing his own; a fallen princess and a bastard countess, both vassals to a contested prince forced to hide his true self from others sight; an inquisitor who had trapped himself in a shell of steel to atone for his sins; a Hero who had fallen, only to rise back from nothing; a clearly inhuman priestess persecuted for her beliefs and a would-be merchant who one day decided to fight the corruption he had been forced to partake in.

The Goddess, while kind-hearted, stood as high above her creations as the clouds above the earth, Lady Alexios explained. She could not see the world through human eyes. This is the lesson the first Fatebinder kept in mind when she petitioned the Artifacts to create a new set of marks. The new Heroes would not stand above mankind. Instead, they would endure the same hardships as the people they were supposed to defend.

Whether prince or pauper, we had all suffered the bitter string of failure. Of powerlessness.

My mark hadnt chosen me because I would become the best Merchant, but because I would try to be the best without compromising my morals. The traits that made Belgoroth the ultimate Knight were what turned him into a terrible Hero.

Rolands mark chose him for the same reason I trusted him to make peace with Walbourg: because it understood that his heart was in the right place.

Archfrosts future king rose up from his seat, lighter than before. This time, we all imitated him.

Tomorrow will be a hard day, my friends, Roland said, his voice brimming with determination. He had made his choice. We are to face a powerful enemy. Once the dust settles, we may not all live to see the sunrise.

He drew his sword with a kings grace.

But if you stand by my side, I know we can prevail, Roland declared with resolve and confidence, his blade raised to the ceiling. One way or another, this shall be our finest hour.

Our marks considered us worthy.

It was time for us to prove it to ourselves.