Cenotaph continues to drag behind, the wet ground not doing a whole lot to quiet the blade. It keeps on slicing on through, parting the earth no matter how much magic now soaks the land. Though I am getting closer and closer to Thurn's Forge, certainly a lot closer than I was earlier in the day... I can't help but feel sorrow.
The Line Before is gone, nothing more than a memory in tablets and books. It's also so much more than just the final line of fortresses before the capital. Who knows, perhaps the Second Line, the Third Line and more are now gone. More rubble in this unending field of sludge. The only signs of there ever being anything along these seven storied paths is... Redstone.
Not a town that has lost some houses. Not a fortress with a collapsed wall. A temple that lost a pillar or even a sign. It's just the redstone and even that has been shown to be weak.
"We could always work it. After all, someone had to cut the bricks but this...?" I say, still struggling to comprehend just how lethal my battle with Gemorli was. I didn't even kill her at the end of it. I wounded her.
And I didn't follow up...
"If I don't win properly... There won't be a country to save. Let alone the full empire. How much of the Eurultus-Valkinvar's territory have I destroyed...? We can't defend Thurn's Forge like this! It's too open... Too vulnerable..." I complain, ending it with a sigh as I drag my attention back towards the capital.
I keep ongoing and going, finding lighter spirits as figures make themselves clear at the Valkinvar Gate. What is left of it, anyway. Cornered up like that, it's a miracle there's anything left of the Parade Ground when the shield-dome never once failed. All that fighting, fighting between Valkinvar, of all things.
Thrurstradtur-Suhurlodst believed it understood what power looked like because of the school? No... Though the Valkinvar are not a school, we certainly cover the same ground. And nothing at that school compares to this temple, even more so clearly now...
"VAPOOLIAR!" Sister Pymonsia cries out in the distance, her magic amplifying her voice. I offer a rather limp, but still energetic wave her direction. The same direction the three loyal Points of the Compass are gathering. Everyone else there is probably the other high-ranking Valkinvar.
I guess I have a lot of explaining to do.
My feet pick up into the air, and I burst across the last bit of ground. Flipping over myself and sliding to a halt before them. The full armour of a god on my person. His battle-axe in my grip.
"We won." I simply start us off with, already feeling my core shake and shiver at the awkwardness of the situation. My eyes go left and right, taking in all of the leftover temple guard as they fan out around me.
"Yeah... We did." Sister Pymonsia admits the circumstances not exactly one for cheering.
"I... I guess I've got some explaining to do, then?" I ask the lot of them and a patient, but clearly on edge wall of silent nods meets me.
I nod back, acknowledging each and every one of them as many keep their weapons in hand.
"Well... Um. Where to start? Heh..." I go, huffing as I rub the back of my head. The Crown of Conceptual War rattling away in my hand. Some tense up, the casual usage of the holy artefact setting off many instincts. Over-reactions or otherwise.
"You can start with why you have that on." Brother Baalaeun demands, the light rain in the air doing little to clean his armour and cloth of blood. Valkinvar blood. It's the same for all of them... It's all Valkinvar blood. The blood of our sisters, our brothers... Loyal or not.
"I... I... I died." I explain, fully expecting the reaction I get from most of them. Sister Pymonsia and Sister Aimaboryim, however, surprise me. They approach, looking me other. The former's ruined hair dragging along in the Gemorli-made muck. The lack of care some of them have is astounding, but I suppose the mind can only handle so many shocks.
"Died how?" Sister Aimaboryim asks, her hand giving me a nudge like a mother might do. Though by law I'm not supposed to have any of this gear on. She keeps adjusting the straps. Perfect fitting, as they already are. In fact, I'm pretty sure the gear has shifted its form to better suit me. Or maybe it was always like this since the times of Thunder?
"Before this is all started. The Zaphadren-Valkinvar... Gemorli... The Arch-Traitor. She ordered me to the main temple. She wanted me to follow up on these visions. Though, I guess clearly she wanted me to be out of the way, not getting any more visions actually. A pair of Valkinvar-Staguiffmani came in one night, towards the end of the timeframe I was given. They attacked me, beat me to death and blew open my... Uh..." I struggle to explain, somehow not emotionally distraught over the fact I died.
I died. I died. I died. And I don't care. Strange.
"Mm, Arch-Traitor." Brother Baalaeun remarks, seemingly liking the new title for Gemorli. His gruff features only slightly taking on a smirk. He seems to catch up with the implications, his brow furrowing again to the grinding of teeth and armour. The pop of a head vein and the red taint across his face.
"You... You are sure?" Sister Pymonsia asks, her faith in me wavering in the face of such nonsense. People coming back to life? Ridiculous. Well... I know someone else who died and came back alive. Though, I came back as myself, as I was when I died...
Wait, Nin...?
I shake my head suddenly, clearing my head of thoughts as I make a point of relinquishing the artefacts. At the least, the helmet and weapon. Honour guards take hold of them, keeping them away from me as I peek around. Par'tryont isn't nearby at all and it doesn't seem like anyone here has seen him.
The very lion of Waionr would set aside any doubts at all about the situation regarding my legitimacy. Still, I can manage the situation myself. Nonsensical as it might sound to everyone. They just need... Well, a little bit of faith.
"So, you died and were reborn in this gear?" Sister Aimaboryim asks, shaking her head immediately as she remembers the circumstances of the Chamber of War. Before I even got anything other than the Crown of Conceptual War.
"I was gifted one of the artefacts, yes. The rest I had to fight my way towards and well... You can see the results for yourself." I say, sweeping an arm back to the unending destruction. Were mountains not what they are, then it would appear to be all the way to the horizon. The people and garrisons that way are probably looking at us in the same confusion and fear we are looking at the new landscape on our end.
"An illegal act." Sister Pymonsia points out, her voice rather loud for the moment. But, I guess that's the point. So that even the furthest away can hear and recall the situation. Nods and murmurs of agreement follow suit, and I join in.
"I know. I know." I say, not bothering to say anything else from that point onwards. It won't matter. Besides, I need the artefact back on my head if I want to perfectly make my way through this affair. It's fine... It's fine.
"Given the circumstances we should... No?" Sister Styadesx questions, her position as one of the Exalsonarden-Valkinvar certainly having some weight.
"The law is the law." Sister Pymonsia insists, her heart at contradiction to her mind. I look her way, an odd serenity existing in my own heart. I can't hold this against her at all and imagine it's fairly obvious for everyone to see. They don't want to admit to what has happened. They want a distraction and I'm just the easy scapegoat for their worries and woes.
"And had those laws not been broken, we'd be dead. Both of us." Sister Aimaboryim points out, her hand going between herself and Brother Baalaeun. The head of the Ordoar Ammimpaurst nods, his attentions going elsewhere.
"Many, if not all of us would be," he repeats, his eyes no doubt looking at the few remaining brothers the Valkinvar as a whole now has. More than anyone, they've probably suffered the most. The boys. Their oaths are different to ours. We girls don't share their oaths.
They are here to protect us, and, while I know everyone who has died, will go to Waionr. Shamed or not, loyal or not. They will all go. But, that is the irony of the brothers of the Valkinvar. They're to keep us sacred virgins all safe for the God of War.
We do not see War until we die, however.
"Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia, we should be focused on other things." Sister Styadesx insists, coming forward to take my friend's hand and pull her away. She puts her foot down, holding her ground as she finds herself torn between so many conflicting emotions.
"It's fine... if we need to, then I will take on whatever punishments you have for me." I tell the lot of them, offering my hands for any chains if need be.
A piercing roar breaks the attention and focus of everyone present. My head twitches up and the rest flinch. I steadily make my way ahead, gesturing for everyone to follow. Those in front part, their eyes a mixture of anger, sadness and in some, awe at the sight of Waionr's glorious bronze. Most, though, are all focused on the Temple of the Four-Winded Valkinvar.
He comes out into the open, out of the shadows. Golden fur and an equally brilliant mane. An all-attention catching roar that fills out the city. The deepest parts of Thurnmourer-Jherikra can hear him. The roar of Par'tryont, the Lion of Waionr.
"Uh... Do you... Do you lot perhaps believe me now?" I ask, looking at the lot of them as I continue to go ahead. I turn my back on the lion as the remains of the Valkinvar blink. Some quiver, some fall. Others seem entranced. Prayers fill the lines and gestures follow.
Par'tryont leaps down onto the ground, rushing for me. He slips to a halt, his claws going through the redstone to leave even more proof of his divine place in this world. He rears his head back, lunging forward with another roar that forces them all to their knees. I put my hand on the lion's mane, easing him back into a protective squat. He... Meows.
I blink and smile and the lion, rubbing away at his mane as the rest of his fur continues to glimmer with the shine of traitor blood. A particularly unlucky traitor finds her meat coming into contact with his tongue. The muscle working its way towards the bit of flesh stuck between two sabre teeth. The lion snorts, growling just a bit more.
"Easy, easy." I tell him, pulling on his mane a bit to rear some manners into him. He whines and growls and me, buckling to the pressure as his golden fur comes into contact with a nurturing tongue.
"I guess... I guess that settles the divine part." Sister Pymonsia admits, rising to her feet with the other two Points of the Compass. They approach me, gesturing for the honour guards to come. The bearers of Waionr's gear return each piece, and I nod in thanks.
"As I said. I died. I thought it was all a vision, but, no... Waionr wishes for me to bear whatever title it is he's given me. And he seems to offer me his loyal beast to enforce that point." I explain, rubbing the head of the excessively powerful beast. They can all feel it, they can see it. Word is already going from Valkinvar to Valkinvar.
They saw what the lion did to the traitors. I was in the blood of traitors as much as mine when he first awoke in the temple. An odd thing. He was never in my visions, but the very statue of Waionr itself came alive with a lion's roar.
"What... What are your orders... Vapooliar?" Sister Aimaboryim struggles to ask, the other two nodding in agreement.
"My... My orders...?" I ask back, not sure why I'm suddenly getting the sudden authority.
Brother Baalaeun chuckles, not minding the lion's growling as he comes closer. He takes the Crown of Conceptual War out of my hand and slaps it onto my head. Backing away with a smile as my mind fills with all the details I need to lead the Valkinvar to victory. My eyes widen and I can't help but giggle.
"R-Right!" I go, the impromptu coronation certainly an odd moment in my life.