Shadow of the Abyss

Reina had been inclined to remain poised like her Prince, to show a smile to everyone, but she could not bring herself to do so before Alyssa.

"Reina…" Alyssa began. " May I ask what you remember of that dreadful explosion?"

"Not much," She admitted, though they had managed to piece a few things together. "Why do you ask?"

"Two of my sisters died," Alyssa said ominously, lifting her ornamental bracelet where two cracked rubies shone. "Audry… the one whose arm you cut off and Tothra. I didn't see how Audrey died… but Tothra blood smeared my face as a stone bashed open her skull."

"Hells," Reina heard herself say.

"We amazons live for battle. It's the dream of every Amazonian to die on the battlefield rather than in our beds, old and decayed." She was looking at Reina now with a hazel-eyed fury. "What happened back there had been…she didn't deserve that. None of them did."

So she seeks revenge, Reina reflected. "And what would you have me do? Why come to me? Why not Altair?"

"The only use a man has to us Amazons are their cocks," said Alyssa with nary a blush. "I came to you because you bested me and my sisters single-handedly. Not Altair. "

For a second, Reina nearly believed her. "So I'm to aid you in your quest? And what is it I gain from this alliance?"

"A loyal handmaid. A pawn." Alyssa shook. She had not even been able to take Tohra into her arms before her body was hurled away, never to be seen again. "I don't care. Help me… and I'll do anything."

It wasn't until high noon that Altair returned to find Ren in deep thought. Sipping tea within the atrium, bathed in light, looking out at the clear view of Forwin. It had seemed so desolate from what she had remembered.

Reina had appeared lost in what to do with Alyssa. She had never much cared for followers or servants. That was Altair's job, she believed. He was the Prince, the lord who bore that invisible crown of his since the day they met.

'Am I to also take up that mantle?' She looked down, finding her tea cold to the touch and her heart weighted by duty.

"What's got you all worked up?" Altair asked. He took a seat beside her and gestured to the servants to leave them.

Reina smiled at his return. "Art…" she said when they were alone. "Do you plan on being a king one day?"

'Naturally,' he wanted to say but held his tongue, noticing Reina's troubled expression. "Why do you ask?"

Bitterly, Ren told Altair of Alyssa and her quest for revenge.

'So there is a part of Ren that feels empathy, or is it guilt? Guilt that the attack meant to kill us killed another?' The Prince reflected, unsure what to say.

Altair had been born to rule. Had been conditioned since birth. He had the charm, the knowledge. All that was missing was the people and the kingdom.

"If I am to remain by your side, I don't want to be a shadow upon your heel." She told him, resting her head against his broad shoulders. "Though I am loath to rule."

He laughed. "Then what will you do?"

"What else but reign by your side."

***

For the next few days, Altair had found himself busy and weak. He had made a large decision the day he returned from Edwin's estate. One that left him weak. And that was to purge his shadows. To banish them back from whence they came. He only kept eight: Kirr, Jorm, Talia, Aurora, and four Sellswords souls he acquired the day he woke in Yarwin.

The pain of it all had left him weak, spasming beneath the sheets, breathless. The pain of it all was the stuff of nightmares. Yet he did not regret come morning. What had filled their place were the Ravens. Forwin was drowning with them, having come from all around the realm to seek the flesh of the man, woman, and child alike. The city had wreaked of death.

So, no one had batted an eye, especially Cedric and the Archbishop, as they stood facing one another outside the great Cathedral of Light, under the eye of the Raven.

"It had come as a surprise one such as yourself would seek me out." The Archbishop of Sepith began, following the shrieking caw of the Raven. The Archbishop didn't pay much mind. "What can I do for you, Cedric Vandel?"

"You remember my name," Cedric said, studying the man, who bore a ceremonial smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Of course. Just the other day. A Mr. Aros came to me and his little band to seek me out." The Archbishop revealed. "Though I don't believe I was much help. "

'Which was why I was here.' Cedric thought and said, "It's of no consequence. I've come to understand more about the church." He narrowed his eyes with a crooked smile. "I've heard of your Rites, of your chosen, but I've yet to hear much of the Church itself, said to be more powerful than the Throne of the Seven Crowns."

The Archbishop laughed poshly. "You flatter us. But the Church of Sepith merely seeks to spread its Principalities of Order."

"Oh, I'm sure," said Cedric. "Is there a place we can speak? I've much to ask."

"And much I'd like to hear."

The Raven crowed and flapped its wings, taking off with a flutter of leaves that left feathers dancing through the skies. It's one dull, eye-mused, a strange light that faded as quickly as it came.

A spring of laughter consumed the atrium of the Blackwood Manner. There he stood with his devilish smile, contemplating his next move. Nia, with her Dual Pupils, was staring him down, annoyed by his sudden laugh.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Altair." she hissed. "I should be on smithing, forging us weapons for the months ahead. The weapons that Forwin offers are no better than a spearhead of dung. Look at the way they've butchered your sword, forged of Mithril! Mithril! That much alone could purchase an entire sector!

Yet some stupid dwarf saw to rape his material with his poor skill."

"Hells," said Altair, aghast. He could still remember the day Nia had seen his sword during his routine training some early morning. She cried an ugly cry. With a look of disgust, he could not place anywhere. Mithril was indeed a powerful Ore, sought out by transcendents and gods alike. If forged right, a sword forged of Mithril could cut through the dimensional walls of space.

She had snatched it from his hand and puked that day. "The metals did not even refine right!" she had cried right after. "All that bastard did was make a pretty-looking blade."

Altair gave a long sigh. " I know. But right now, we need to prioritize survival. And killing demons will help us do that." He said, noticing the unease written over her face. "If you can max out the full capabilities of your second circle. I'll have you become our forgemaster."

Nia looked cross. "You mean that?"

"I've no reason to lie to someone so weak," He pointed out. "I've already spoken to Verrell about Amilia taking over as the Head Witch Doctor. To which he accepted quite promptly after seeing her skills. Amilia is a fifth Circle Mage. If I am to bring this up to Verrell, you need to at least show yourself to be at the peak of your rank." he paused, thinking for a moment.

"I've read Dual Pupils grants great insight and foresight. I'm sure you'll do well on the battlefield."

"And will you be joining us?" Nia had wanted to ask, but the words didn't sound. She had all but heard the soldiers spit at his name with fear. Talking of how he seemed more demon than human. It was puzzling, really. On Earth, or perhaps any of the Genisis colonies, such a feat would be praised. But not, Yarwin.

Not by the Realm so tied to the Church of Sepith.

'Act a demon, and you'll be treated as such.' Nia thought. Unsure how anyone could see him as anything but a lordling.

"You will be with Reina, Talia, Aurora, and myself." Altair stood up, decked in a black wool doublet and britches over boots. He yawned and gave Nia a charming smile. "We will be returning to battle tomorrow. Though I hope you are ready. The last thing I need is to bring back your remains."

With that, he was off, returning to his study, to his fifth meeting for today, to where a blue-haired boy awaited him. Vance, they called him. And had been one of the troublemakers when he first arrived.

"What can I do for you?" Altair asked, finding his seat behind his abhorrently large desk. When Altair had first seen it, he had wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

Vance squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, having to look up at Altair. "The noble fraction are growing restless and are demanding that they be allowed into the main house or that the commoners be kicked out."

Altair made a face. "I'm confused."

Of the hundred that followed, outside Fat Mike and Cedric. Ten of them had been highborns. And had been allowed to reside in one of the three annexes within the estate. It had been Fat Mike who had made the suggestion that they all remain together, and Altair had agreed. There was strength in numbers.

"They claim the stench of the commoners is…"

"You asked for a meeting because of an issue like that?" Altair said incredulously. "The smell. The nobles are complaining about the smell… the smell."

"Yes," Vance said, not picking up on the scorn in which Altair spoke. " Lord Thayem says that the commoners ought to be placed in pavilions or be tossed onto the wall. Granting them a place in such a lovely Manor is a most cruel punishment, wouldn't you agree? Most of these commoners have never even so much as had servants a day in their lives. But now they are fed three times a day.

Some of their living quarters are as large as their entire house back on Earth. How will they ever survive when they return?"

"... the smell." The Prince repeated.

"Well? What do you say?"

"The smell…"

"I'm sorry?" Vance responded. "Lord Blackwood, forgive me for saying this, but this is your chance. Not counting Fat Mike or Lord Vandel, this is your chance to rise back on Earth. Yarwin is a backwater realm. When we arrived, we saw soldiers eating rats and snakes. Whatever they could find.

Cats and dogs." He reeled, disgusted by the memory. " There savages, my Lord. I wouldn't be surprised if they would begin eating other commoners."

Altair stared at the man, wondering how someone could be so blind. So what if they were eating rats? This was war. And to survive, he expects nothing less. It wasn't something to be shamed over. Those men and women were fighting tooth and nail for their families and friends.

'It's like night and day.' Altair told himself. Recalling the day, Nia scolded him for torturing one of their fellow soldiers. He had felt more disgusted by her attitude then. Nia had a noble heart. She did what she thought was right. And while he didn't always approve, he respected it.

But this man.

Altair didn't understand what he was feeling at this moment as he pointed towards his door. "Tell your nobles they'll be on the battlefield tomorrow. If they don't like it, they can find somewhere else to live. Now get out."

"You! Lord Blackwood. You know as well as I do. That this battle is unwinnable, those demons are unending." Vance swore. " we—"

"I've never been one to repeat myself, " the Prince said coldly, his voice thick with presence.

Vance visibly paled and waddled out.

On top of his chair that sat like a throne, Altair felt a tinge of bitterness filling his mouth. "You may scorn a man for his lifestyle, but never shame him for it." He stood up and looked towards the great Cathedral of Light, off in the distance through his window.

His thoughts were… fathomless.