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Vanguard, Book 2, Chapter 10.5

Deviation Actions

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There was a taste in the air. There was a taste in... reality. This reality, at least. Her heavy tongue moved between her lips, but reached no further than the steel mask that covered her face from the nose and down. Still, she could taste it. The air. There was something different this day, though she couldn't tell if it was any different from yesterday; she could, in fact, not tell the difference between today and yesterday at all. Day and night meant so little down here, where the only light was the dim glow of candles at her side, spilling her silhouette over the grimy walls like black paint. The shadows that coiled around her never ceased to keep their secrets of the outside world, shrouding her in ignorance and solitude. Even so, she could feel it, this day. This day, there was something different. It hung on the fringes of reality, drifting through empty space like autumn leaves, settling on her tongue. It tasted of importance. Of significance. Though she could not tell the days apart, not while the sun and the moon were but fading memories of hers, not while she had forgotten what it was like to be free of these chains, she knew that she would remember this one. This day. It was not like the others.

She looked up slowly, her eyes heavy as always, so heavy she had to struggle not to close them. She had not slept in... a long time. She couldn't tell how long, exactly. Maybe it was a day, maybe it was a month—both seemed equally possible. She wished to sleep, so dearly she did, but it was no easy task, when her body was on fire. At least, that was how it felt. Every day, the burns that covered most of her lithe body felt as if they were as much on fire as the day she received them. But pain was an illusion; this she had been forced to learn all too swiftly. What was pain, but her body telling her that these burn marks were real, and still there? She knew this perfectly well, and needed no reminder. And yet, there it was, the pain. The agony that kept her awake. How she wished her brother, Lucius, would return soon with more balm.

Though the candles' glow was dim and dying, she always had to squint when raising her eyes to the little shrines before her. There they stood, on the mossy floor before her, their shadows cast unto the walls just as well. Hrumalz, the warrior patron, and Lyrras, the lifegiver. These two were her respite in loneliness; her refuge in agony. She found that though they were made of stone and often quite silent, she treasured their company nonetheless. Sometimes, their shadows on the wall seemed to dance and come alive, playing out a tiny theater performance before her. Lyrras would always rise to teach her the virtues of mercy, of self-forgiveness, and the value of staying alive; and in turn, Hrumalz would teach her strength, courage, and to never relent on those who deserved none. She loved Lyrras for the comfort he gave her in painful hours, and she loved Hrumalz for the strength he put in her, so that she could better fight this unwelcome inhabitant of hers. For she knew, all too well, that it was not just her, Hrumalz, and Lyrras who shared this room. There was one more... and he was here right now.

“Xandra...” he said, his tongue the shadows, his voice the fires of a darker world. She closed her eyes and hoped that his presence was just the product of her imagination, but she knew, deep inside, that he was as much there as she was. She could feel him, sense him lurking about in the darkness that surrounded her, swimming in between dimensions like a shark through seaweed. Her hands clenched and she pulled at the chains that locked her in place and kept her arms raised to either side like angel wings.

“...You are a tenacious one. This, I grant you. Most men would have succumbed to wounds like yours many months ago, and yet, here you sit. Still you breathe, still your hearts beats away in your little chest, and still your mind is your own...” he paused briefly, before his voice appeared in another shadowy corner of her prison “...somewhat.”

“I do not hear you, filthy one.” she snarled through her teeth, gaze stalwartly kept on the shrines and the candles before her “Though my wounds are grievous, though agony keeps me awake at night, I do not feel you. My gaze is turned heavenwards; I do not see you.” her words were spoken with unshakable vigilance, defiance even in face of an immortal and ancient presence such as his “You waste your time, hellish one. Sear my body as much as you wish, for in my soul there is only light. You shall never have it.”

A cold air swept through the room, followed by silence. She did not dare to blink while staring at the shrines before her, in fear that her eyes would open to his ungodly face. She had seen it before, and just like his fire had seared itself unto her skin, his eyes had seared themselves into her mind. Jewels of an unholy world, surrounded by fire and fangs, drenched in endless rivers of damned blood... this was the face of the great king of hell. Six tongues, all of which she felt were whispering in her ear, whispering from the darkness.

“Your faith is... admirable.” the darkness seemed to twitch with every word he spoke, and in the corner of her eyes, she could see him move, slithering like a serpent in the fringes of the candles' comforting glow “But faith, my dear, is but brittle glass. So easily shattered. Indeed, it may feel like steel, but you will only know how delicate it is, when your own is broken. And I do promise you, Xandra, that even yours cannot withstand what is coming for this world.”

She snorted violently “I know of these demons, in the south. I felt their presence long before the first messenger dove flew over the Godshill walls. My heart, my soul, and my faith lies with the gods... but my sword, hellish one, is forged from your fires. Mock away, mock 'till all six tongues are weary, you will never break me. Every day, I grow stronger; every day, my grip of the curse you put upon me tightens. Through it, I sense your demons as if I were one of them; I feel their will as if it was my own, their hatred as if it was my own... their strength, as if it was my own.” behind the steel mask on her face, her lips split in a vicious smile “How does it feel, I wonder, to have your precious flame wielded by a mere mortal?”

“HAH!” all six tongues shouted, and it was deafening “You wield NOTHING! In comparison to my inferno, you are but a spark, Xandra! Your tenacity is impressive, but your hubris leads you astray, deludes you. Have your beloved gods not taught you humility toward your betters, girl?”

“You are not my better.” she growled through gritted teeth, through the horrendous mask on her face “You are a plague, an overfed rat, and nothing more. There is a reason why the gods shine from their heavenly thrones while you rot away in the Netherworld, filth. I am not afraid of you. Others may fear you, but I know that the light of heaven will keep me from your shadows. Divinum lumen, protege me.”

“High Speech and prayers cannot save you today, Xandra.” he said again, drowning out her words with his voice of gnashing teeth and darkness “Your gods tremble in their golden thrones. The skies split with the coming of a new king... and it is not of your dear brother that I speak. Much can be said about Lucius Pius Deum, true, yet he is still but a mortal man, ruling over other mortal men. Let him rule his measly empire. It will matter naught, when the world burns.”

Xandra's jaws tightened, as the darkness spoke. Her frail heart pounded away in her chest, angry blood crashing through her veins. It was as if the candles dimmed and the shrines seemed to pale, simply at the mention “I know of whom you speak.” she said, reluctantly.

“I know you do.” the darkness continued to slither, all six tongues of the demon king seeming to writhe like phantasmal serpents in the fringes of her eyes, lurking somewhere between realities “Say his name.”

Xandra sneered from behind her mask. The name lingered on her tongue, and it tasted vile. She spat it out like the filth it was “Omnos.” she growled “An inflated name for an inflated threat. The rumor spreads like wildfire across our lands, but the people are strong, and they will know to keep their faith where it belongs: with the Five, and only the Five. The light of heaven will chase away the shadows that infest their minds, and they will wonder why they were ever lead astray. My brother will see to this. My brother will give them the truth that they deserve.”

Xandra had expected more mockery from any of the six tongues of the demon king. She had expected him to whisper words of vice in her ear, to try and shake her faith... but he did no such thing. Instead, he laughed. Quiet at first, but growing louder and louder, until Xandra could barely hear her own thoughts. She squeezed her eyes shut under his roaring guffaw and she tried to drown it out with hastened prayer. But then, at the bat of an eye, it was all swept away.

Footsteps. Xandra jerked her head upwards, as she heard footsteps from the darkness, from the staircase that led down into her solitary prison. Hope swelled up inside of her and pushed away the anger and the hatred, for she knew who was approaching. The light of a lantern washed down the stairs, growing brighter and brighter with every moment passing.

“Sister!” his voice was eager, merry, excited. She looked up to see him standing there before her, bathed in the light of his raised lantern, bathed in... something quite different. A white toga like her own covered him from his golden hair and all the way down to his sandals. A purple shawl was strapped to his shoulder, sweeping down across his hip, and on his head, a ceremonial laurel wreath. Realization struck.

“Is it today?!” she asked in sudden distress, furious at herself for forgetting.

“It is, dear sister.” Lucius answered with a blazing smile on his face as he set the lantern down and moved to her chains “The crowds are gathering as we speak. I have my speech all prepared, and the priests have seen good omens in the skies. They believe this day will mark a milestone in the history of Godshill—nay, the world!” he held a smiling pause “As do I, of course.”

Xandra watched with befuddled eyes as Lucius fiddled with a small keyring, standing before the massive manacles that bound her arms. Confusion conquered the anger in her “What... what are you doing?”

Lucius gave her an incredulous look “What does it look like? I wouldn't want you to miss my coronation, dear sister.”

Xandra's heart felt like it stood still for hours, even though only a second passed “But... but I'm not done praying!” she exclaimed, uncertain of what else to say.

“You are.” Lucius said, quite firmly “You've been down here long enough. I've seen what you can do, how well you've tamed your curse. There is a world out there waiting for you, dear sister, and I can think of no better day than today, for you to see it all.”

Xandra tried to speak, but was interrupted as the manacles suddenly burst open. Her left arm crashed to the ground, suddenly aching horribly. The magic in her had kept her muscles whole and strong, but it had been so long that she had clean forgotten how to use them. This kind of movement in her joints felt alien, uncomfortable, and it only got worse as Lucius released her from the second set of manacles too. On her knees, she fell forward, her palms striking the cold granite floor, her arms shivering like pines in a hurricane. She needed time to readjust, this she knew, but Lucius gave her none.

“Aren't you excited?” he asked her as he eagerly brought her to her feet, an arm under her left shoulder “The heavens smile on us today, dear sister. Just you watch. This day is a blessed one, and I mean to make the most of it.”

She was given no chance to answer his question, before he marched onwards, up the stairs, even though her legs felt as if they could fall off at any time. It had been so long. How she had hoped she could at least have prepared for this... but deep inside, there was something in her that could not stop smiling.

However, in the very second the door went open, her eyes felt as if they had caught fire. Deep into the roots they were scorched, and even though she squeezed them shut, the bright light still pushed through her eyelids. She winced and brought up her hand to shield them, but her arm was gripped by Lucius before she could manage.

“You need to adjust.” he said with great command in his voice “You've spent long enough time down there in the darkness. It's time to return to the light.”

Xandra shivered, but she knew he was right. Even with her eyes shut they burned, aching as if they were filled with acid. And it only became worse, when she opened them up. Her sight was but a painful blur and her eyes screamed to be shut, but she resisted. She resisted and let the pain wash away the darkness that had settled in her eyes. She felt as the shadows receded, and with them, the pain.

It had been so long since she had seen color. The only sight she had woken up to, in all this time, was the black of shadows and the grey of musty stone. She could hardly even recognize the colors that now opened up before her, let alone put names on them. It was like a kaleidoscope. A bed swept in vibrant velvets, carpets everywhere—even on the walls—and portraits of people she had never seen before, yet somehow felt she had to know. But most vibrant of all, was the sunlight that cascaded in through the windows. Awe took her tongue as she stood there, her mind racing to distinguish the colors that filled up this small yet vivid office. But soon, as soon as she dared, she looked to the window instead, and the world that stretched out before her. Mountain ranges as tall as gods rose near and far, all the way into the most distant of horizons, there they stood with their hats of snow and their bodies of ancient stone. She could hardly even recognize the land, despite that she had grown up here... but it had been so long. How she had missed the sight of the mountains that encircled the sacred valley like unflinching guardians. And the valley itself was nothing short of spectacular either. The long, rocky plains that stretched all the way to the foot of the most distant mountain, a snowless tundra where no trees grew, and the sun touched everything.

“Are you adjusted?” Lucius asked, looking into her eyes, seeming mostly to inspect that they were still intact. Xandra looked back at him, and the joy that had bloomed inside of her now shined through a wide smile on her pale lips. Lucius took this as more than enough of an answer and returned the smile.

“And this is just the beginning.” he said, but what he meant by that, he didn't tell. Xandra had no chance to ask before he carried her onward, pushing open the doors of the office.

The throne room was one of the things that had seemed to linger in her mind, and it had not changed one bit. The same throne of gold and silver stood towering tall over the long walkway before it, where peasants and pilgrims and nobles alike would come to seek the council or the blessings of the king, for whatever endeavor they had on their minds—but in face of the king, all were equally humble, this she remembered clearly. The same banners hung from the great pillars that held the church-like roof aloft, flying the proud emblem of Godshill, the sacred swan with wings raised like an angel. But there was one thing that was different from what she could remember. Where this hall had always been a refuge of peace and quiet, a place where she could feel safe in her childhood years, there was a noise this time. A noise of shouting, of an excited crowd. It came from outside the door.

As Lucius led her to a nearby window, she quickly realized why this was. No matter the pain that still lingered in them, her eyes shot open wide at the sight of what had gathered there, just on the other side of the door. Hundreds, if not thousands of citizens, flocked together in excitement, in anticipation of what was soon to happen—and who was soon to be crowned. Steel fences had been set up at the bottom step of the staircase that lead to the door, and a podium had been set up before the crowd—empty now, but she knew this wasn't going to last. Some of the citizens of Godshill flew small flags bearing the swan symbol of their proud nation, while others carried large signs that displayed some kind of political slogan in favor of Lucius. She was awestruck, and proud. Proud to know that this man, her brother, was such a beloved man with the people—and awestruck for the very same reason. She looked to him, and saw him smile.

“Stay here, sister. I'd want you to watch, but you deserve a better place than among the rabble.” his smile grew a little “Will you pray that I can deliver my speech properly?” he asked.

Xandra smiled back, even though she knew he couldn't see it through the steel mask on her face “I already am, brother.”

Lucius carefully bent her head forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before letting her stand on her own, albeit reluctantly. She struggled to stand, but she did her best not to show it—this was not the time for Lucius to worry. This was his moment, and she didn't want to draw upon herself any unnecessary attention. Her mouth was silent, but her eyes wished him all the best—and with that, he left her there and went forward to greet the crowd.

Flung open were the doors, and the cheer of the crowd poured over him like a tidal wave. His golden hair rose in the brisk mountain winds, glimmering like a godly weave in the sunlight that fell over him. His arms were outstretched to either side like he was ready to embrace every single citizen that now flocked before him in the thousands, crying his name with eager anticipation and love. His ceremonial toga flapped in the hard winds, but he did not flinch, did not stagger, for this day would paint his image for eons to come. Guards stood in a half-circle around him, a ward of armor and spears, steel protectors whose plates were like mirrors in the radiant sunlight. The crowd tossed flower petals in the handfuls, sometimes whole flowers as well, and a few of the farmers from the outskirts of the realm had the strange custom of presenting a live lamb as a gift for the new king; not that the lamb would ever get that close, but it was an amusing sight, Xandra found, seeing the lamb bleat away together with the cheering crowd.

Lucius' smile was as winningly charismatic as always, the smile that the wives across the entire world wanted for their husbands. His hands were raised in greeting of the people, all from the nearest citizen pushing up against the fence, and to those who cheered from the balconies of their houses on the other side of the courtyard. The crowd was everywhere; every inch of space was filled up with a citizen that wanted to show his or her love for the new king, all of them wanting to be heard equally much. Xandra watched with a great swelling sensation of pride as her brother stepped up to the podium. There was a magical rune painted upon the podium's surface, and corresponding runes on the facade of the palace—though many, many times larger. Xandra could hardly close her eyes, and her own smile was stuck to her face. She watched eagerly as Lucius, with just a single gesture of his right hand, silenced the crowd. The cheering and the whooping and the flower-tossing quieted down, even the lamb ceased to bleat. It was astonishing... suddenly, there was only the sound of the wind moaning over the heads of the people. But that would not last.

“My blessed people,” Lucius began, his voice low and calm, but scattered for all to hear through the magic of the runes “you are the flesh and the bones of this nation; the strong and unflinching defenders of everything just, true, and holy. You are the hands that toil on the fields, the heart that pumps the flow of trade through the veins of our realm, and the legs that carry us on the path of light. In comparison to you, the people of Godshill—and the rest of our proud nation—I am but a humble man. Let not these pretty clothes and this dazzling title fool you... I am your servant, and I aim to serve. All that you need, all that you could ever want...” he said, so clean and so delicate in his words and his body language as he spoke “...I will give to you. It is not my place to take, to oppress, but to give. What do I not owe you, the people, for keeping our valiant nation alive? For growing food for our tables; for sewing clothes for our bodies; for building walls for our homes?”

There was a murmur amongst the crowd, the nodding of heads, the slow agreement to Lucius' words. Xandra even gave a few instinctive nods of her own, though she was unaware of it. Lucius slowly lowered his hands, and she saw how his smile faded slightly—but she knew this was very much on purpose. She knew that Lucius was perfectly aware of every facet of his speech; every emphasis on every word, every twist of every gesture, every turn of every expression. He knew what he was doing.

“The death of our king has struck deep in my heart, as I am certain it has for us all. It was a tragedy without measure, let there be no doubt. But I believe, with great certainty, that the heavens recognized how age was taking its toll on Magnus. With age came tiredness, tiredness that evolved into laziness, and it did not take long before he had lost his otherwise so firm grip on his own crown. He ate and he drank while he was not out spending the realm's coin on hunting trips for his own amusement. Magnus was a good man, but alas, age had changed him. It was no coincidence that Morrin took him into his arms at this time.” he straightened up his back and took in a deep breath.

“What I speak of, of course, is the waste of your labor that Magnus had conveyed. In his stead, I will not make that same mistake! As I take my place upon this throne, it will be of my greatest priority that you, the people, will not toil away on the fields so that you may sate the desires of a gluttonous king—but to bring back the pride of this great nation! Too long have we stagnated in lethargy; too long have we lingered, waiting our years away—but we are done waiting! How can we wait when hell itself knocks on our front doors? How can we wait when we know that traitors and terrorists exploit this period of great turmoil for their own nefarious intents? We cannot, I say! For centuries upon centuries, Godshill has been a beacon of hope and safety for this world, and we will not let our legacy be squandered! By the responsibility invested in me by the heavens above, I swear to you now, I will reclaim the glory that we once held so dear! Together, we will break these manacles of inaction, and we will remind the world: Godshill still exists! And we are as strong as ever before!”

As the crowd rose once again to cry their love and their excitement for Lucius, Xandra too began to applaud from behind the window. She watched as he stood there, arms wide open like he was bathing in the glory that his people were showering him with. Xandra couldn't stop smiling.

“He's good, isn't he?” her heart felt as if it would jump out of her chest as an unfamiliar voice spoke up just beside her. Her smile was killed and she felt instinctive demonic energies boil up inside of her, ready to defend herself, ready to slaughter... but all that quickly proved unnecessary, as she saw the man who stood there. He was a dark elf, a strangely short one at that, with a head shaven clean and a smile so smooth and charismatic it could rival her brother's. He wore a monocle held to his eye by three leather straps around his bald head, and he was clothed in neat and noble clothing; something she could only recognize from royal advisors and their like. But there was something about this man that didn't strike her as an advisor—even though he did have the necessary guile in his eye for the task.

There was a silence between the two for a while, not that the dark elf seemed to mind much. But Xandra did. She suddenly recalled who she was, why she wore this steel mask. She took a few steps backward and shook her head slowly, eyes in the marble floors “I... I wasn't supposed to be seen.”
The dark elf's smile only seemed to grow at the notion of this “We do a lot of things that we're not supposed to, in life—it is in our nature, sweetheart. But it's fortunate that it was me you bumped into... or rather, that I bumped into you, and not anyone else. We're already quite acquainted, you see, though not directly.”

Xandra stared for what felt like a full minute at the dark elf before her. She tried as best she could to dig up old memories of someone like this, but nothing in her inner library matched. And she knew that she would surely be able to recognize a man as aesthetically unsettling as him. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't have to speak for him to get the message.

“Perhaps Lucius has mentioned me?” he asked, seeming a little hopeful to begin with, then disappointed when he received no answer “Ah, typical of him to keep our relationship secret... tsk. Oh well. My name is Orlan, a learned alchemist, and I do believe you are quite familiar with one of my creations.” he raised a jeweled finger to point at Xandra's shoulder, where a patch of burned flesh was exposed. Xandra looked down at it, then quickly covered it up with the white cloth of her toga.

“The balms.” she finally said, muttered behind the steel mask “Oh, the balms!”

“Yes, the balms!” Orlan echoed her, a little louder, his voice resounding throughout the throne hall “Goodness, why don't I change my name to 'the balms', as it is seems I'm practically synonymous with it. I dispense and I dispense, but never a word of thanks does your brother give me... I'm beginning to think he's just in it for the balms.”

Xandra felt quite a lot more comfortable now, knowing who this dark elf was. She had only pleasant experiences with his balms, and felt that she had many months of gratitude to repay him. She smiled to him, even though she knew that it couldn't be seen from behind the crude mask—it hurt to smile, with lips burned and skinless, but pain was a triviality “My brother can sometimes seem to be ungrateful, true, but what he does not say, he often feels. I am certain he is quite thankful for what you've done... and if not, then I suppose my own gratitude will have to suffice?”

Orlan seemed unimpressed. He turned his monocled gaze out the window, where the crowds were chanting Lucius' name, flower petals and lambs everywhere. He snorted roughly “I don't know... he seems to have no problem thanking the people for their hard work. Why can't I be thanked for mine?”

Xandra didn't have an answer for that. But as she saw how Orlan's frown couldn't last for long, that his sweet smile returned soon after, she knew that she didn't have to speak at all.

“Isn't he amazing?” he asked her, and bid her step closer to the window with him—which she did “Look at all of them: they're praising him as if he was the sun itself. These people are all sheep, willing to follow their shepherd wherever he goes. He's practically promising them even more war and even more death, but still they toss flowers at him... what kind of rhetoric genius must you be to convince them to toil away just to feed his hungry, hungry war machine?” the words themselves sounded foreboding and dangerous, but Orlan said them with such strange admiration and awe, like a young aspiring artist looking up to a master.

Xandra turned her look on Orlan “Are you a follower of my brother as well, then?”

“Follower?” Orlan asked with some skepticism in his voice “I'm not sure 'follower' is the right term. I wouldn't vote for him, if there was even such a thing as voting. I see myself more of a... fan.” his eyebrows raised “Ah, hush now, he's about to speak!”

And indeed he did. Silence became the crowd once more, eager eyes everywhere, all of them laid on Lucius as he bid them all be quiet. Xandra and Orlan both turned to gaze upon the holy man standing there, swept in the gilded sunlight, swept in his people's love. For a few seconds, there was nothing but the winds—it was as if even the birds had quieted down to listen.

“This is a day of tremendous joy for all of us, dearest citizens, but I know that you all expect me to speak my mind of a certain subject... and what choice do I have, but to oblige?” he asked, laying his hands on the podium before him, putting on quite a sincere expression “I speak of course of the downfall of the integrity of heaven. Or as it is better known: 'Omnos'. Rumor has spread far and wide, and I believe we all know that rumors can become twisted as they are recited time and again, leaping from mouth to mouth. Word is that I, your king... am also a god.” he shook his head “Let it be known far and wide, that this is not the case.”

Xandra gave a sigh of relief, deeply pleased that Lucius killed that insane rumor. She saw how some uncertain looks were exchanged among the crowd, disturbed murmurs, and then a few people exchanging coins; probably people who were betting whether or not the rumors were true. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Orlan seeming completely unfazed... and he was still smiling. Smiling like he knew something.

Lucius cleared his throat, and the crowd silenced. He leaned in a little closer and let an examining gaze drift across the crowd, eyebrows heavy and smile returning “But does that mean Omnos himself is but a wild rumor too? Hah... far from it.” Xandra's relief was struck down, and in its place, dread rose.

“He is as real as the word of him, my people! I speak to you not as a god, but as the envoy and the herald of a god—a god who will embody all, and to whom all other gods will kneel. From the pages of primordial history he has awoken, a being that created all, gave birth to all, and thus governs... all. He is the most ancient one, Omnos, the one whose existence preceded everything—even the concept of existence itself! Our mortal minds cannot comprehend his divinity, but he has spoken to me, as he has spoken to our high priests before. He said to me: 'Lucius, king of kings, it is by your hand that the world shall unite under my grace; for my love is eternal, and my will absolute. My children have watched this world for eons, but a thousand gods and spirits will bring nothing but division and discord to this world. Under my grace, and with you as my prophet, the world will finally know peace and unity—from east to west, from north to south, never again shall there be strife between nations, for all nations shall fly my banner.' So I ask you, people of Godshill: why do we let ourselves divide among thousands of divine entities, when now arises one who can unite us all? It is in a world divided, that the demons shall destroy us, one by one! But together—together we are strong! The time of polytheism has passed... and in its place, the god of gods will bring an eternity of peace, of unity, and unending light to this world!”

Xandra was at a loss for words. Even in her own head, there was nothing but stunned silence—all while the crowd resumed their cheering for the words of her brother. Or at least whom she had thought was her brother, but now seemed like nothing but a stranger. Who was this man who wore her brother's face? For what felt like minutes, she didn't breathe. Only when she turned to look at Orlan, did she.

“I—“

“—Don't understand?” Orlan turned his monocle-adorned gaze on her, slowly, his hypnotic smile stronger than ever “It is actually not that complicated, sweetheart. Simple enough for even the most common man to understand, as a matter of fact.” he looked out the window again, to where Lucius had his fist raised in glory, letting himself wash in the tide of cheers from the crowd “Being king is a treacherous thing, you see. Think for a moment about all the kings before him... Julius the Merciful; Decimus the Glorious; Tiberius the Valiant—do you see a pattern here? Each and every one of them have some positive adjective tied to their name, and it is through it that they are remembered. The history of Godshill is so long that the entire reigns of all the kings must be boiled down to these simple words, so that even the simple peasant knows who they are. So when history will remember you upon this single word... it is in the king's best interest to make sure that it is positively loaded.”

“But this is heresy!” Xandra burst out, pointing angrily at the stranger who stood out there in her brother's skin “This Omnos is all lies, all fiction! He can't just squander all gods and spirits for... for a fairy tale!” she howled furiously, her voice resounding off the distant walls of the throne room, and even now she could hear the laughter of the demon king—clearer than ever.

“Oh, but he can.” Orlan said, sounding genuinely impressed, his eyes still lingering on Lucius “That's what makes him so... amazing. You see, when you're put with the opportunity of making yourself a prophet of a god king, you don't let it slip between your fingers. You just don't. Even the most good-hearted, sympathetic politician would seize this opportunity without a second thought. Lucius' name will be forged as one of the greatest ones in all of history because of this. And can we blame him?” Orlan asked with a shrug “Personally, I think the entertainment is unparalleled. Unmatched. Ten out of ten.”

Xandra stared at Orlan with hellish wrath swelling inside of her, and the cheer of the crowd in the background was only making it worse. How could it come to this? Had the entire nation let itself plunge into arrogance, into hubris, thinking they could choose their own gods? The audacity was infuriating! When she looked out that window, upon the crowd that gathered out there, she felt nothing but disgust... and alienation. This was not her people. This was not the pious folk she had grown up with. These were liars and heretics, traitors and sinners, all in disguise of the good people she once knew. She felt as if the shadows around her grew thick in wake of her revulsion... until she realized, the shadows were actually, in fact, growing thicker.

“Ahh... they're here.” Orlan said. It was in that moment that Xandra's anger faded and gave way to fear. The cheering came to a stop as the same shadow washed out over the crowd, over the rooftops, over the entire city. She turned her eyes heavenward, and saw how the midday sun had been blocked out—not by clouds, but by airships. Massive engines of war that rode the winds came lumbering over the mountaintops behind the city—and there were so many of them. An eclipse engulfed the city, and only then did Xandra realize what was going on.

“Time to go, sweetheart.” she felt Orlan's hand gently pick up hers.

“What? Where are we going?” she asked, looking into his eyes and seeing nothing but guile and excitement “Where are we going?” she repeated.

“On an adventure.” Orlan's words were nearly inaudible through the thunderous roar of engines that suddenly came pouring over the city; hundreds of mechanical monsters filled up the skies, carrying the noble symbol of the swan on their balloons. Was this the world that she had waited so long to be reunited with? So long she had suffered down there in the dark, but she suddenly couldn't tell which one was worse. She stared with stifled eyes at Lucius, and wondered what had become of the brother she had treasured so dearly. But she wasn't left in her wonder for long, as Orlan soon led her out the back door and away from the cheer of the crowd.
Introducing a character I have been looking forward to writing more about. Mysterious little Xandra... oh where will your journey take you? Good question! I don't think I know yet! That's what makes writing so enjoyable. :D
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