“I suspect the man’s head burst into gore due to the pressure of containing Gerechtigkeit, not out of any deliberate act,” Raven said as he studied the corpse.
Anneliese looked at him as he turned the body over in his hands. “I might concur—that force, that pressure… it strained against the vessel until it could deform no more before bursting free. But how do you explain the image on the wall?”
All three of them gazed at what could only be called a painting of a fire. It lost neither shape nor color no matter how long it persisted.
“A final message, perhaps. Or a demonstration he is incapable of suppressing what he really is. Fire; uncontrolled destruction that eats all it can to grow, and leaves scars in that which it cannot burn. It may signify that preparation he so grandly boasted of.” The Alchemist raised his huge gray hand to the image, ruining the piece with a stroke of his hand. “Let this swipe of my hand demonstrate what his plan should mean to us.”
Argrave found himself clenching his hands together, and relaxed with a deliberate deep breath. Anneliese watched him, asking, “You look like you’re holding back from saying something.”
“Well.” He looked up. “It’s clear from the rumors surfacing about me that he listens to all we say.”
“And?” Anneliese raised a brow. “He is not yet here on this realm. He cannot respond to our plans as we can to his.”
“It’s not a plan, it’s…” Argrave closed his eyes, reimagining the brief exchange of words he’d had. “If that was a mere fragment of his being, I find it hard to imagine how all of us will face that.”
Raven put his huge hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “Face him as Orion did. Raging against the end, defiant in your steady pursuit of a fate unknown.”
Argrave took the rare comfort from Raven in stride, nodding until he remembered something. “We have to go see Orion,” he told Anneliese, and her eyes brightened at the reminder.“Of course,” she nodded firmly. “He’s with his mother.”
#####
Orion sat just beside his mother, Valeria, looming over her bedside like a Great Dane beside a child. Her blonde hair was wispy, thin, and bore some signs it might never grow back in some areas. She was thin, almost dreadfully so—Argrave’s thigh might’ve been thicker than her waist. But in her sapphire-like blue eyes, there was a brightness that Argrave had never before seen, and she did not thrash at unseen demons as she had locked in the palace cresting Dirracha.
If ever there was a demonstration victory over Gerechtigkeit’s mental influence, it was this woman.
Valeria stroked the back of her son’s hand as she laid there, a faint smile on her thin, scarred lips. According to Orion, she had fully returned to her old self. The madness, which was almost assuredly inflicted on her by Gerechtigkeit, had been remedied. In particular, putting the mental-warding ring on her had essentially closed an open wound. Once closed, it allowed old scars to heal. Allowed her mind to come back to her.
Orion leaned in. “I must depart, mother. Rest well.”
“I… love you,” she said in a quiet, tender voice that sounded as if it barely escaped her lungs.
“I love you too, mother.” He kissed her on the cheek, then rose to his feet. He walked to where Argrave and Anneliese waited, then gestured for them to leave the room. They did, and his brother shut the door behind them.
“My life feels fuller than it ever has before.” Orion looked up to the skies above. “Yet concurrently, the greatest tragedy unimaginable wracks our nation. The fell judge would burn our civilization to ash. We must stand in stark defiance to that, as ever.” He looked between them. “But I speak enough. You’ve come to hear the results of my work, have you not?”
“We have,” Argrave answered with a curt nod. “And… to ask permission about a matter regarding your mother.”
Orion ran his hand down his long black beard. “Considering our recent adversities, this must be about her affliction of the mind. You would seek answers from her.” He closed his eyes. “My mother is well again. I cannot arrogantly decide on her behalf what she should do with what is hers. All I would ask, as a filial son, is that you give her time enough to be physically well. She has ceased harming herself, yet the remnants of it still persist on her, and will for some days.”
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“That’s fair enough.” Argrave loosely grabbed Orion’s elbow, pulling him along. “So, let’s talk about your research into the latent bloodline.”
“Of course.” Orion walked along, taking the center between Argrave and Anneliese. “I could not, so to speak, strain my brain until I found the power of the mind that our ancestors possess. If it were to happen, it would have. Ideas eluded me, and so I sought inspiration from those of the past—those that have already done such a thing. Come—let us involve the others in this conversation.”
Argrave and Anneliese followed uneasily, knowing well what he meant when he said ‘others.’ Orion had come to value himself a good deal more, and had become far more grounded as a person. That said, he still retained certain eccentric aspects to his personality. Foremost among them was a disregard for many characteristics of other persons. This had manifested in a somewhat grandiose act of mercy.
They walked out of the parliamentary hall, heading to a circular building in the city. Orion opened it and walked aside, and familiar faces revealed themselves one after another. There was the decidedly plain-looking Boarmask, lifting his head up from a book. He was one of the original protagonists from Heroes of Berendar, yet… he wasn’t the only one, nor was he one of two.
Dario and Georgina looked at Argrave with considerable caution. Both former protagonists of Heroes of Berendar had opposed Argrave in one way or another, and now both worked underneath Orion in his pursuit for the secrets of their bloodline. They weren’t even the most outlandish figures present—Mial, elven daughter the Castellan of the Empty, sat at a desk with several old scrolls laid out before her. Ingo, the near-surrogate son of Castro, had also joined this motley crew. He and Orion were getting on quite well, both of them being able to relate to one another on account of their mutual experience of dealing with blessings.
Elenore made a point of having tight security. Orion himself wasn’t foolish—his own loyal guard, once the Waxknights, had been cured of their affliction in House Quadreign’s black fire. Now, these elite veterans of Felipe’s old order were a constant eye over Orion’s collection of exotic personalities. Exotic, yes… but no doubt extremely useful.
“Everyone,” Orion shouted out in his commanding voice as he entered the room. “Pay your respects to His Majesty and Her Highness.”
Without exception, all paid them some manner of respect—bowed heads at the least, and kneeling at the most. Orion looked between them all like a proud father.
“Mial.” Orion focused on the pale elf, who seemed like a kitten before him. “I instructed you to collect information from the group. Do you have it prepared?”
“I do,” Mial said, casting uneasy glances at the royal pair.
“Wonderful. Everyone, gather around.” He waved his arms all around, and slowly this disparate collection of talented strays coalesced in the center of the room. There seemed to be some small rapport between them, and they were united in their shared caution toward Argrave and Anneliese. “I shall give you the bare bones of it all. My compatriots shall fill in where my knowledge is lacking.”
Orion cleared his throat. “To begin with, I realized that we would need a foundation to build upon, as had taken place in the team guided by the late Llewellen. Ours is the only family descending from the Gilderwatchers, but not the only family descending from things not fully human.”
“Truly?” Anneliese asked in surprise. “What manner of beings?”
“Mial,” Orion looked toward her with a smile. “You took charge of this.”
The pale elf fixed her dark hair uneasily. “As you know, the… the following that my father gathered was a very disparate group, united by faith.” She couldn’t meet Argrave or Anneliese’s eyes. “It was never practiced in Vasquer, but we had those among us with the blood of drakes, dragons, or most commonly, the monstrosities native to the underground. Its stone vipers, spider matriarchs, or ancient basilisks, by example. I could not prevail upon my former flock, as my father’s death has led them to view me as a deceiver, yet I did manage to track them down for others.”
“Excellent,” Argrave praised. “What was learned from it?”
Mial finally looked up. She had her father’s purple eyes, and after the praise she managed to meet Argrave’s gaze as she said, “The method by which people achieve monster lineage is manifold. It is often a ritual done during conception, or while the child is in the womb. I’ll spare the unpleasant details, because they’re irrelevant—the power in their blood is unlocked by slaying the creatures they’re related to. In the end, it allows them to manifest powers that are sadly overshadowed by magic.”
Argrave nodded. “In the end, they have a trace amount of black blood, like myself. That was something you could’ve come to me for. I could’ve scoured the wiki to spare you some time.” He looked at Orion.
Others looked confused, but Orion knew what he spoke of and answered decisively. “You are more than busy enough as is.” Orion shook his head adamantly. “I meant to ease your burden, not add more thoughts.” He gestured back at Mial to continue.
“In the end, we narrowed it down to a family descended from dragons. It took a lot of work—from all of us.” Mial looked around at her allies. “Dario and Georgina tracked down living descendants. Ingo sought out methods by which they’d unlocked their power.”
Orion leaned forward and grabbed Argrave’s shoulder. “In the end, we’ve found a path, Argrave. We need only time, and we may discover a way to shield the people from Gerechtigkeit’s influence. We may be able to stop these fruitless cults, and these divisive leaders, from rending Vasquer asunder. More resources are needed, however. The fine souls that have pledged themselves as my retainer do fine work… but it cannot be compared to the totality of what you and Elenore command.”
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