“Of the twelve royal children of House Montroi. Five were hanged, killed, and hunted during the early days of the insurrection. Two died in the fighting the following years. Two vanished from the records. One perished after a kinslaying. King Albin Montroi and Princess Eulalie Montroi overthrew their father a decade into the civil war and now rule the Gratian Kingdom.”


    - Tomas Konstance II, Gratian Historian in Exile, “Lecture at the Arterian Academy: The Gratian Political Crisis”


    <hr><hr>


    Fields Around Monte de Trisse


    Annabelle-Elizabeth Adeline Montroi, that’s my name, that’s my name, gotta remember it when addressing the others, fuck. Annalise repeated in her head, giving herself a good smack to stay focused. She shuddered at the mournful sensation that the thought alone brought with it. Seeking a distraction, she turned to look beside her, finding a poised, determined looking black haired princess who barely even acknowledged her. After a silent few seconds, Princess Pyra finally turned to her, lips curled with frustration at their slow progress. Under the sunlight, it almost seemed as if a halo had surrounded the delicate looking girl, yet with every breath she took, the world seemed to quake under her attention. Annalise rubbed her eyes and blinked as the Pyra’s form faded out of sight. Someday’s she didn’t even know if she was still herself anymore, wasn’t even sure if it mattered at this point.


    “Of course it does.” Pyra snorted, “Otherwise what’s the point of me not just subsuming your mind? I already made a promise with you, and as you can tell, I fully intend to honor it as befitting royalty. Murderer, criminal, rebel, heir and whatever else I might be. But an oath breaker I am not. Not even for oaths taken centuries ago.”


    I know, Annalise grumbled. She pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve her headache and turned to her other companion. Awkwardly holding onto her waist, the languid if still present Kimmie had nestled herself against her shoulder. Seeing her, Annalise’s heart pained as she noticed the girl’s resigned expression. She stroked Kimmie’s head, the girl offering a grunt in response.


    Sharing the girl’s expression, Annalise sighed and raised her hand up high to summon her attendant. Two death knights strode up beside her, their undead forms radiating an unnatural chill that made her shiver.


    “Parley.” She uttered.


    The knights kneeled before retrieving a hastily assembled bright blue flag. Anna nodded her thanks and held the pole in her hands, watching as the ruffled cloth rested awkwardly across the ground. Ahead of her, standing proud atop a hill was the castle town of Monte de Trisse. A town specialising in nothing, worth practically just as much, save as a symbol of House Montroi, and her childhood home. Even now she recognised much of the sights. With its back to the Trannoire, it could realistically only be approached from three sides but with the steep western slope, it ostensibly meant only two approaches for any large force. Its rounded walls stood high over the land, the oblong shape broken by the presence of the five castle towers. Rounded buildings that watched over the inhabitants below and provided a secluded spot of royalty.


    Within the castle itself was a small farm, an inn, a barracks, a keep, two manors, a smithy, a stable, and pleasant little garden. Though she suspected that things might have changed since she had last visited. Below the castle hill was a town that surrounded it. Here, she noticed how many of the old brick buildings she remembered seeing were no longer present. Replaced by newer stone and timber constructions that sprung up after the rebels had ransacked the town and the monarchy took it back. She suspected many buildings were destroyed sometime in the interim and wondered if anyone she knew from here was still alive. Doubt it.


    Ironically, Monte de Trisse had been one of the first to fall during this initial round of fighting, some of her family getting caught up in the opening days of the Republic''s invasion. She only heard about it after the fact and in the span of an afternoon had lost two brothers and a handful of cousins. Then, in less than a fortnight, the rebellion reached her own little fief and she found herself being ferried away to Ascalon, away from the land she called home and never to return. Yet here I am, at the head of a cursed army a decade later. Because just like that, the civil war of Gratia sprung to life once more, this time more brutal than the iterations before.


    She raised her flag and waved it in the air, moving it to catch the eye of the defenders. If she could avoid violence she would. She had seen first hand the devastation that would be brought upon them if they resisted. From atop the castle towers and their blue bricked roofs, a series of trumpets sounded to alert the garrison and town. A futile effort, if they intend to try and weather the siege.


    Anna chuckled as faint wisps of memory cropped up here and there. Scenes of her running around the halls of House Montroi knights and guardians sparring. All before she was moved to command her own little piece of the kingdom at the tender age of nine. Of course, governor Etienne did most of the ruling but still. I wonder if everything’s still there, if Collisse is still around. She grimaced as what little pleasant memories there were marred by those of war, of an idyllic land scarred by an endless cycle of violence.


    What little hope for a peaceful resolution was shattered when she and Pyra both felt the invasive presence of divine magic. Scrying, tsk. Regardless, Anna and her army waited for a response, the vain hope still not completely vanishing.


    “It’s pointless.” Pyra tsked.


    But we have to try, Anna insisted, making the errant princess roll her eyes.


    Her attention then fell upon those under her command. Scattered across Northern Gratia, a hundreds of death knights stood at attention. Their undead flesh hidden behind layers of helmets and armor, but each a weapon capable of razing entire villages. Following the death knights were a thousand odd miltiamen, of both living and nonliving variety. Some had reluctantly followed along in hopes to be spared from the mystical death fog that Pyra could cast, others were mercenaries or dispossessed who saw the opportunity for profit, chaos or a chance at changing their lot in life. It was a motley group that stood little chances of upending a castle, if not for the fact that Pyra had two ancient magi at her disposal to assist with the death fog’s deployment.


    Past them, in the back of the crowd somewhere where her friends. Adventurers and comrades who had stood with her through thick and thin. Thulgrim, Gil, Sara, even the despicable and far more lively Arnold. Bastard doesn’t deserve to be here.


    “I made him a deal as I have with you. It shall be honored no matter what you think.” Pyra admonished her.


    Anna scowled but let the matter drop. It was a miracle that they were alive but the uncertainty of whatever ancient magicks held weighed heavily on her. I still owe Sara two drinks, heh, if she even still drinks… Feeling her thoughts, Kimmie nuzzled her further and Anna’s face twisted into an expression of pain. Hells.


    Off in the distance she could see a cloud of dust and dirt being kicked up. Likely Gratian chevaliers or castle guards riding towards her. But her heart already prepared itself for the inevitable fight. Despite coming out to parley, if there was a divine scry within the castle, it likely meant a church fanatic or priest was managing the defences. If that was the case, then everything would end in a bloodbath.


    “It’ll be fine.” Pyra exclaimed, “What little suffering there is will be swift and fast. We’ll make sure this little corner of the world comes out all the safer for anyone who might choose to live here. So chin up. You were the one so insistent on seeking out a peaceful compromise after all. Let’s do our best.” The princess stood up straighter, “Or we could just opt for my plan and kill them all. All the same to me.”


    Anna felt her hand reach down to the bow clipped to the horse’s side, her fingers finding comfort in the weapon that had gone through so much with her. She had been terrified of Pyra, worried that one day the cursed spirit would simply inhabit her completely. But in their time together, the two felt each other’s pain; one ancient, one recent. Yet it was in this suffering that had united them, brought two completely different people together. In time they tolerated each other; Pyra excusing Anna’s kindness and compassion; whilst she turned a blind eye to the murderous rage that still lingered within the fallen princess. Even now, she was chilled by the casual tone in which Pyra spoke about life. But that’s just the way it goes, she sighed.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    “Yeah, we’ll try our best.” She muttered to no one in particular, “But it’ll never be enough, will it?”


    For the first time in a while, the apparition of the princess paused, her lips pursed in contemplation as she slowed down to take in her surroundings. Almost in response to the question, she began slowly shimmering into nothingness, “No, I suppose it never is after you begin something. Once we start, we just need to keep going.”


    <hr><hr>


    Administrative Building C Block, Marrest


    Viktor Von Krantz stared at another report. The contents of which seemed increasingly similar to the ones he had already perused. Demonic sightings and incursions seemed to be increasing and even the normally formidable Frostwind mountains seemed to grow more porous by the day. Beside them were another stack of documents, templar patrols encountering villages and peoples pleading for aid against the undead, another unfortunate regular occurrence within the Mistveil. With a practiced deftness, he signed what he could for the dispatching of patrols to a few of the afflicted areas, but even knew it was a futile effort as more and more undead seemed to emerge within the MIstveil.


    What concerned him more though, was the demonic sightings that have been documented by templar scouts and other reconnaissance assets within the region. It meant whatever dark forces were ravaging Ingramar had begun their push southwards, ascending the Frostwinds considering the main passage was blocked. Normally, the fortresses and cities bordering the Frostwinds such as Melisgrad would act as the first formal barrier. Most having been built to withstand year long sieges and even avalanches. What didn’t help was the Meltonian civil saw more than a few such defenses fall, with the disaster of Melisgrad being the main chain being broken. It painted a dire picture of the northern defences and Viktor calculated the probabilities of the north simply being overrun in record time to be a one in ten chance should an assault happen.


    He was about to turn to the next set of documents when a soft knock echoed from the room’s doorway.


    “Come in.” Viktor spoke without looking up.


    The door creaked open and he recognised the heavy footsteps and gait of Templar Sergeant Wilde. The other carried itself more softly and with a lighter cadence of his colleague, Inquisitor Serilda. He looked up to acknowledge them before continuing with his work, waiting for the information they would share.


    “Lord Inquisitor.” Sergeant Wilde saluted, “I have a lead from the mages guild about the demonic incursion.”


    “Proceed.” Viktor confirmed.


    “Of course, my lord. If you’d look at this map,” Sergeant Wilde unfurled a map of the Frostwinds with areas already circled and numerous other little siblings scrawled across it, “Here, here, and here were areas in which anomalous magical energies were detected.” He pointed to three squares, “After our patrols acted in conjunction wth the guild to analyse the terrain, they suspect that these two locations might be where the man incursions will occur from.”


    “And the last one?” Viktor asked.


    “An anomalous reading, arcane magick, old magick, but not dark like the demons.”


    “A third party?” Serilda asked.


    “We suspect so, mam.” Sergeant Wilde nodded at her before turning back to Viktor, “A sizeable area was affected, at least from what we can tell. What we can say is that this area is mostly free of demonic sightings or influence.”


    “Fantastic work. Thank you for the report, sergeant.” Viktor grunted, “Leave the map here and tell the men to take a rest. I’ll have new orders for them soon. You may leave now.”


    “Yes, sir!” Sergeant Wilde saluted before heading back out, leaving the two inquisitors alone.


    Viktor and Serilda regarded each other warily for a moment before Serilda broke eye contact with a sigh.


    “What is it this time, Viktor?” The Inquisitor asked, "It''s not often you send a messenger to fetch me."


    Viktor reached under his desk and pulled out two letters from a drawer, sliding them across the table for Serilda.


    “Two letters?” Serilda raised an eyebrow, "Didn''t know you loved me that much."


    “One’s an official report from Orator Vitellus." Viktor began, ignoring the teasing, "Apparently your apprentice made two other inquisitors ask for her transfer to elsewhere that is less embroiled in conflict. An opinion I share given the circumstances of Gratia and the loss of two inquisitors earlier on in the fight against this ''Purple Death''. We would be better served by having someone more knowledgable and capable in her place.” Viktor spoke as he returned to his work.


    This seemed to irk Serilda, an expression of discontent settling on her face. “Noted. The other?” She growled.


    She did always dot on that girl a lot. At this Viktor paused, pointing at the slightly more misshapen of the two envelopes, “A more private correspondence from the Orator. He suspects that your apprentice might be entangled in something far greater than we had originally anticipated.”


    “Well, but that’s the case for most if not all Inquisitional operations.”


    “True, but I think more specifically, she’s getting entangled with prophecy and more specifically the visions of the Astral Observatory.” Viktor drummed his hand on the table.


    “Shit.” Serilda swore, “She’s not nearly ready to handle anything the Observatory might throw at her.”


    “Correct. Hence why I think the Orator is informing you in advance.”


    Serilda seemed to eye Viktor more intensely, the older inquisitor merely responding with a wry grin as he nodded before returning once again to his work.


    “What are you planning, Vik?” Serilda questioned.


    Viktor allowed himself a dry chuckle before responding, “The east calls for a senior member of the Inquisition to replace the junior. I see one very capable senior staffer in front of me. With intimate knowledge of how the junior might have messed things up. She is, as far as I recall, the junior''s teacher.”


    “Then…” Serilda’s eyes widened briefly. Hope, a dangerous emotion.


    “The transfer order isn’t in place yet. I merely nominated you for the position seeing as you’re both capable and trustworthy. Unfortunately, your apprentice isn’t well versed in politicking and well, she could always use a few pointers.”


    “But what about here? Surely you can also see the work I’m doing.”


    “Of course. It is through combined efforts that our position here is as strong as it is despite the looming crisis. Thanks to you and Lionel, we have made firm inroads with the local Frostwind tribes. Your apprentice before her departure gained the Inquisition and entire tribe of orcs. The local government responded fairly reasonably to our requests.” Viktor stated matter-of-factly, “There is much more to be done, but none that will change the outcome of a fight should the demons cross over en force. For now, we will continue stamping out cults, heretics and investigate these dark magicks that the sergeant informed us about.”


    “Damn, never thought I’d hear the day you made a pep talk.” Serilda growled.


    “More surprising things have happened before.” He dryly chuckled as he tapped the desk, “Just take a break, Seri. In a week’s time after the council meets, we’ll know if you’re being dispatched or not. For now, just relax and do what you must.”


    “That’s… that’s it? Just wait a week?”


    “That’s all.”


    “What about all the connections I have with the tribes? Surely it’d be pretty hard to maintain those without someone knowledgeable in their affairs.”


    “True. Which is why I had Sergeant WIlde shadow you this entire time. Did you not find his presence most peculiar?”


    “Viktor!” Serilda protested, “I thought he was there as a guard.”


    “Who is also a fast learner and trusted by both myself and the tribes now.”


    “And his work as the logistician?”


    “His assistant in the Curia will take over. If not, I have a few contacts in Melton who can make up for any equipment shortfall we might experience.”


    “Huh, did you… plan for all this to happen the moment you sent Apprentice Lyudmila away?” Serilda asked.


    “Of course not. If that were the case, it''d mean I have precognition or foresight and would’ve joined the Observatory. No, I simply enjoy having redundancies in case of emergencies.”


    Serilda clicked her tongue, begrudgingly impressed by Viktor’s almost overly prepared attitude toward the whole affair.


    “Damn, Vik. Leave something for the rest of us to do next time.”


    “I’ll endeavour to do so.” He grinned.


    “Tch, or so you say." Serilda smiled before a more wistful expression took hold, "But beyond that, is there anything else?”


    Viktor looked at his work for a moment before shaking his head, “No, that would be all for now.”


    Serilda bowed respectfully, tucking both letters into her pockets. “In that case, blessed by the stars.”


    “Blessed by the stars.” Viktor replied as his colleague left the room.


    Letting out a sigh he had been holding in, he leaned back in his chair and revelled in the silence that followed. Turning it around to face the window, he glanced out at the city of Marrest, its citizens bumbling about like little ants as a flood slowly loomed over them. Like a calm before the storm, how inauspicious. Let’s just hope whatever comes next remains within our ability to control it. If all the reports stand corrected and even those regarding the activities of the Chaos child, I suspect most of these incidents are connected. That we are looking in the wrong places for our prey. But how to convince the council that this isn’t mere speculation? That’s the real question isn’t it? Goddess protect you Seri, for you’ll be the one bringing me the proof I need.