Record of Ashes War

Chapter 8 - Protectors and Oppressors

The Sun's eyes snapped open. He fell off of his chair, mouth agape and gasping for breath. One hand was pressed against the cold stone floor to support his weight whilst the other clutched at his chest. A book slipped off the table on which he'd been resting his head. He barely noticed it. His entire body was cold, clothes sticking to him as if he'd just come out of a frigid pond.

He let out a feral scream.

No one heard it. No one was near. He was seldom disturbed so high up in his tower. The Sun pressed down on his chest as if to supress his beating heart. How long had it been since he'd last felt such pain? A few decades? It didn't stop. He felt as if someone had stuck a razor inside and was carefully cutting away his heartstrings one by one. He collapsed, cheek pressed against barren stone. He barely twitched, mouth hanging open and drooling, eyes rolled back inside his head.

And then it stopped.

The small enclosed room basked in the single ray of dawn light that entered through the window. The Sun rolled on his back, chest rising and falling very quickly. He let his hand slip off his chest and rest on the floor. His fingers touched the fallen book, causing him to frown. The pages would have folds in them. Luckily it wasn't the book on Chronary. Else the pages may have crumbled into dust. He slowly stood, knees trembling. He smoothed out the pages of the book before placing it back on the table. A wide smile spread on his lips. It had to be now. The opportunity he'd been searching for had finally come.

The Papillion Forest's numbers had thinned once more.

How many times was that now? It had been recorded. The Sun pulled open his drawers, shifting through multiple notebooks before he'd finally found what he was searching for. Three times. Three times within the last century to be exact. The witches of the forest were killing each other again. Portions of Ny'Danis' life was being cut away. And he felt it. The Sun hadn't been prepared before. But this time, he was more than ready. He now had an army. He now had an Artifact of his own.

He put on a polished grey helmet with a golden mask attached to the front. The back of the helmet held a disk with dozens of points. A similar sword leaned against the side of his desk. The pommel shone a polished silver. The handle, black. The end of the hilt had a golden disk with many points. From its center extended a blade of pure gold alloy.

The Thousand Sun Sword.

A relic from before the War of Ashes. An Artifact gifted to man by the Goddess. Its magic, as with all Artifacts on Illusterra, worked differently from Chronary. There was no cost to its creation. No steep price to its use. Artifacts were objects of the divine gifted to humanity for ease of living. Much like healers. And Flame Bearers. He strapped the sword to his waist and wrapped himself in a long and hoodless white cloak. The cloak was bound by a three point star pin at the base of his throat.

Once ready, he pulled open the heavy wooden door to his room, thick muscles flexing. He then descended down the spiralling steps of the tower. The staircase was illuminated by orange luminite —stones of light that came in shades of white, pale blue and orange— embedded into the walls. Their light shone in the darks of his eyes. He could already hear the screams. See the flames. Smell the smoke from burning wood. The malice tipped smile on his lips only stretched further.

***

Kalin Serene wiped away sweat from his brow. He placed the blunt two-handed training sword back on the weapons rack, letting out a long exhale. Morning was in full swing, and his only free time —time he spent training, was at its end. A long day of work lay ahead of him.

"They say I'm your equal," Jengard Rask said, "but I seldom get the better of you in our bouts."

Kalin grunted. He looked up, squinting at the clear blue sky. Such a terrible day to spend holed up inside. As the Duke of Xenaria, his responsibilities were too many for time spent in leisure. What did it matter? He had no one to spend a beautiful day with anyway.

"Your Grace?"

"Equal…" Kalin echoed. Jengard Rask was his second in command. An ardent military commander famed both within Xenaria's borders and outside of it. Rask stood just as high as Kalin but had more bulk in his arms. "I suppose that term is subjective, even when applied a specific context."

"How so?" the man asked, scratching his barely existing beard. "You're a better swordsman than me. That's a fact."

"Define the term 'swordsman', Rask. I beat you in our bouts because I'm just barely faster than you. Battles on the field are not one on one. You've fought on the frontlines many a time. On the field, you are the better swordsman."

Rask crossed his arms. "That's untested. You've never fought in the vanguard —that being a testament of your skill in strategy. Of course, I wouldn't allow you to take to the van unless our morale was on the verge of collapsing."

Kalin stretched his arms, giving the commander a sidelong glance. "Let's hope it remains untested. Better yet, hope for an end to all conflict." He strode off, marching through the garrison halls of Arcaeus Peak. On duty guards at gates and corners lowered their heads and pressed a hand to their chests in salute as he passed them by.

Kalin made his way to the top of the fortress where his quarters were. Two rooms belonged to him; one his bedroom and the other his study. Both of humble size compared to the rooms of his manor at the city of Metsiphon. He entered the first —a room with a small bookshelf of fictional works, a bed, a wardrobe, and an unlit hearth— to fit himself with a change of clothes, removing a plain tight fitted white shirt with something looser and of similar color. He then entered the more dreaded room. His study was simple, containing two bookshelves at the sides, another unlit hearth and a single window behind his desk and chair.

Kalin often found himself spending too much time in his study. There were too many things to go through. Reports from his own lands. Reports of neighboring lands and the movements of their armies and political circles. He had had a minor break of late. The Empire of Tarmia had halted their constant attempts at encroaching upon Xenarian borders. Constant skirmishes caused a torrent of reports to stream in. The Empire was an expansionary nation, seeking new territory at every turn. They'd placed a man by the name of Kazir as commander of their forces near Xenaria. Kazir was both an assassin and a famed military general. His strategies were peculiar and difficult to navigate around. Kalin had clashed blades with the man about five years past, when Kazir had tried assassinating Kalin's father, Sialin.

The Empire had pulled back their forces and had instead focused their attention towards Estraea, the nation directly above them. Kalin could only hope Estraea held them at bay for a long while yet. Better yet they just stop their aggressions entirely. As if. The nature of humans was to want more. Most humans. Kalin didn't need more. He had enough already. He only cared about the safety of Xenaria and her people.

He let out a sigh as he approached his desk. Stacks of paper were set about them. As well as a few envelopes with fancy seals. Marriage proposals —he dreaded them the most. Almost all of them came from lesser nobles with no right to ask for his hand. But he had to craft intricate responses for them all the same. Sooner or later, he would need to get married to continue the line of High House Serene.

Kalin stopped to look out of his window rather than sitting down. He glanced to the southwest, peering off towards the horizon. The Papillion Forest stood out to him as a green blur. A forest within Xenaria's borders, though unexplored by its people. Anyone nearing the trees turned up dead. The forest had inhabitants. That much was obvious. But these inhabitants weren't particularly fond of outsiders.

Kalin wished he could find some means to contact these people. To tell them that he meant them no harm. They were, after all, Xenarians residing within the Serene demesne. Thus their protection was his responsibility. The forest had long been rumored to hide Artifacts, drawing eyes from both Tarmia and the Astral Union. Eyes are all they'll ever draw so long as I'm still breathing.

Still, Kalin would have preferred to know if it did have Artifacts and if yes, what kind. Not for his own gain, but for the nation. Anything that would allow him to better protect the nation's borders would be most welcome. Xenaria only possessed one known Artifact and that was in the hands of Dahlia Lakris, the nation's soon to be queen. High House Lakris had succeeded High House Zz'tai, those that were called Flame Bearers, when the Zz'tai had been outed as corrupt darkspawn centuries ago. Muddled were the details of that particular point in time, making some historians question whether the deposing had been naught but a power grab.

Kalin sat down in his chair, smoothing out his already neatly trimmed beard. He ran one hand through his short light brown hair whilst another shifted through pages on his desk. He'd barely started reading the first of them when a subtle knock came from his door. "Enter," he commanded in a loud voice.

The door opened and an out of breath man dressed in camouflaged garb of green and brown stepped in. It was an outfit typical for messengers and scouts. His dark green cloak was bound by a silver eagle pin at the base of his throat. "Your Grace…" the man breathed.

Kalin held up a hand, letting the man catch his breath. "Speak," he said after a while.

"Report from the Empire of Tarmia. They've conquered the Estraean city of Grace and are now marching back towards our borders."

Kalin nodded, letting not a hint of surprise or worry appear on his face. He was the stone wall of Xenaria. He had to maintain a solid impression so as to not worry his subjects. Already? It had barely been a lunar month since Tarmia had set their sights on Estraea. The better part of that month should have been required to march towards the nation. To have captured one of their main cities in so small a time… "Any details of how?"

"Yes. Er, Lady Ashlay von Solsetur opened the gates to them for promise of maintaining rule of the city. They had her executed anyway."

Kalin shook his head. Fool woman. Executed. Fitting for a despot. "Go and inform Commander Rask. Have him double watch at the borders."

The man saluted. "Your Grace," he said, giving a short bow before leaving the room.

Kalin clenched his fist, grimacing. He exhaled through gritted teeth. "Flames burn my soul. Opening the gates when you're charged with protecting your people." He stood up and opened his window for some fresh air. Loose pages on his desk were blown to the floor. More than anything, Kalin despised terrible leadership.

***

"Your Brilliance, I'm not in agreement with this," Orion said. He had been waiting at the gates of the citadel. "To burn an entire forest merely from rumors of darkspawn?"

The Sun scowled. Orion was one of the Constellation Judges of the Astral Union. A commander of one of the larger inquisition legions. His dark near shoulder length hair split down the center. And he had eyes that would put emerald gemstones to shame. He was terribly handsome. The Sun hated that, though denying that those feelings were because of jealousy. Orion was the kind of man women fawned over. He was also a complete zealot for the Union's mission of destroying darkspawn. Too useful to get rid of. "Are you doubting me, Judge Orion?"

"Never, Your Brilliance. It's just that—"

"Orion!" The Sun roared. "Who am I?"

The man tilted his head, frowning, as if not understanding the question. "You are The Lord Sun, master of the Thousand Sun City."

The Sun rolled his eyes. "What am I, first and foremost?"

"A scholar, most renowned, and the most learned in all the world."

"And yet you still doubt my words? Still doubt the research I've put into this?" The Sun asked, arms crossed.

"Forgive me, brilliance."

"Will you be joining me for this assault, then?"

"I'm afraid I cannot," Orion answered. "My inquisition legion is too far from the forest. I merely arrived back at the city to inform you that I may have a location on Balihann Zz'tai. I also need a few spare Gate Stones."

The Sun nodded. Balihann was supposed to be one of the last two surviving members of the Flame Bearers. They needed to be wiped out completely. The Sun fished out a couple of stones from his pockets. They were marked with a Chronary rune saying 'gate'. Gate Stones could open portals to a place its user had been, extracting life force equal to the distance travelled. They were one of the few completely benign uses of Chronary. "I will pray to the Goddess for your success. When next we meet, I wish to hear that Balihann is dead." Orion nodded, taking the stones.

The Sun stepped towards the great iron gates of the Sun City's citadel. Six guards —three for each gate— pulled upon the horizontal bars of the door. Its hinges groaned with the ferocity of a war horn as it opened, spilling fading daylight inside. Evening had come so quickly since he'd ordered the Astral Union's legions to prepare. Remaining daylight was no brighter than orange luminite stones embedded into the citadel's interior or kept hung from chandeliers. The city's surrounding walls were too high, enshrouding most everything in perpetual shade.

The Sun's honor guard contingent awaited him, each one mounted and armored. Their breastplates bore the image of a sun and their cloaks were dark as night with white specks to mimic stars. They each wore a helmet similar to their lord and master, though theirs were made of pure iron and missing the gold mask.

"Your Brilliance," a guardsman began, helm at his side. He was bald, though had a thick enough dark beard to make up for it. His pinewood skin was riddled with red markings —Chronary runes written in his own blood. Runes The Sun had written for him. All of his honor guard were as such. The magic would give them temporary immunity to death, consuming a portion of their life each time they took a wound. It had to be enough to survive the witches of the forest. "The legions are ready. They await your command."

"Have messengers been sent to each Constellation's position?"

"Yes, brilliance. Though if I may, I don't think they'll be informed in time to join in the assault."

"That isn't their purpose. The Constellations need to be aware of our actions and be prepared as necessary in the event our assault is considered too aggressive by our neighbors. Judge Vulpecula especially. He was tasked with sparking a full scale war between Xenaria and the Empire to weaken those states. Though, that may not be necessary if our attack succeeds. Where is he currently stationed again?"

"Judge Vulpecula is still near the forest of Estré."

The Sun nodded. He walked past the proud soldier, skipping down the short flight of stairs before the citadel. A carriage had been prepared at its base. Multiple dark cloaked guards on horseback were on either side of it. The Sun turned to face the guard following after him, grabbing the man by the throat. "What is this?" he hissed. "We aren't going for a stroll through town! Send the carriage back."

"Your Brilliance, my apologies. I'd assumed-"

"Assumed? Do not dare to utter that word before a scholar!" The Sun turned to the honor guard contingent. "You," he said, pointing at one of them, "Get off. I'll be borrowing your horse." The guard did as he was told. Many runes could be seen on his exposed neck.

The Sun mounted the horse and led his men through the cobblestone streets. Bells at each peak of the citadel were rung. In response, a horn sounded from the top of the third inner wall. Iron gears within them turned. A thick iron portcullis blocking the gateway of the third wall was lifted. The Sun dug his heel into his horse and urged it to go faster. He clicked his tongue, scowling. The city streets were crowded.

"Make way! Make way for his brilliance, The Lord Sun!" the guardsmen cried.

Citizens shouted and scrambled, dropping their belongings as they stepped to the side of the street. Their shadow covered faces bore creases of worry and fright, some gasping as the horses galloped by. It was better than showing no emotion at all. Much like the city itself. Towering walls cast long shadows over nearly all.

Horns from the second inner wall sounded as the guards atop spotted their lord approaching. The second wall's gateway was opened. Once more the guards shouted. At the very end, the first wall, the one surrounding the entire city, opened its gates. The drawbridge had already been lowered. The Lord Sun was greeted again by the hollowed light in the sky as his horse set foot on the drawbridge. This light was of dusk beginning. A light with more fire than at all other times of day. The final effort before nightfall greeted the world and the stars and moon took over the duty of spreading light.

Legions of the Astral Union stood ready in an organized fashion in the fields beyond. Their leader rode to the front. "March!" he shouted. No words of encouragement were spoken. None were needed. Everyone had their own motivations aside from obedience. Thousands of soldiers marched as they had been commanded, all heading towards a single location.

The Papillion Forest.