Pillars of the Kingdom

If she knew Lilith, she had to know she was stronger than her! Branden thought to himself of the woman formerly known to him as Sarinal. Iona, as her name turned out to be, was no pushover - She very well could stand toe-to-toe with Branden. Could she beat Aubrey? Maybe, if she knew what to expect from him...Maybe.

“Why are you doing this, woman?” The cold voice from beneath the hood asked. He didn’t sound evil, per se, but his voice sounded distant from the world he inhabited.

“You aren’t anything special, Aubrey, except for talented and in possession of a powerful tool. Its time for you to pay for those you killed - Either surrender to Emor’s justice or die at my hand,” Iona responded. Her black hair was swept up in a sudden breeze.

Branden had to admit it, he was impressed - Iona not only did her homework, but with that breeze came the first of Aubrey’s attacks: The gust came as he ever so minutely moved his sword, projecting a small amount of energy towards her. She twitched, easily negating the force. This fight would be at least close to even, if not a perfect match.

“That doesn’t answer my question, woman. You have no reason to interfere. You are no Emorian Hora nor are you an ally of this nation.” Aubrey’s voice was calm, almost as if asking her to enjoy a cup of tea.

“Wrong,” Iona said with a smile as she slowly drew her sword. The odd blade was drawn with its one edged side held skyward, not to the ground. It almost looked...Painful to ready the weapon, with the way her wrist had a slight bend to it.. “The Shaman-Sen signed an alliance treaty with Lord Shade recently. If you take me as representing them, then I have every duty to protect this city.”

Aubrey had to be as shocked as Branden was. “Fine, woman, then you have sealed your fate!” His shout was followed by a flash from his sword - He swung through the air despite the incredible distance between them, and Branden just prayed the woman knew what she was doing. He’d seen better men then himself underestimate the importance of martial skill, even when someone has abundant power.

Iona responded with an impassioned slash of her own, and Branden’s blue eyes widened with surprise. He could see the lines of spiritual power making up Aubrey’s technique, essentially pushing the edge of Aubrey’s sword across the field and toward Iona. He then saw Iona’s slash produce a nearly identical, curved wave. The difference was minute - Aubrey’s was spread evenly, while the curve in Iona’s blade made the crest of the arc the most powerful part of her attack - but it was incredible to watch.

The two collided and the lines of force visible (usually) only to a Hora’s eyes went both up and down, flattening themselves against one another. Dust and sand was lifted from the ground by the downward force of the collision, forming into a small cloud with invisible lines of energy crackling from the point of impact.

“Interesting, much like my trick. But let’s see what you can really do,” Aubrey said tauntingly. He raised his sword up into a praying position, hands ready to use the weapon yet its tip pointed towards the sky.

“I’m down,” Iona responded casually as she entered an odd stance. She lowered her body, resting the flat edge of her sword along her back, shoulders and arm. The tip very nearly dug into the armor she wore, and her left hand raised almost to blot Aubrey out of her vision. The weapon’s natural curve seemed to fit right over her armor and for a moment Branden had to wonder about the lunacy of placing one’s weapon behind oneself.

The two seemed to size their rival up for a minute, then they began to run towards one another. The ground quaked as the two both swung their weapons and the edges collided, and Branden stepped backwards. “Woah!” He exclaimed at the power both wielded - Indeed, Iona was every bit the warrior he was, and that meant she had a good chance to win.

They began a rapid-fire exchange of blows and dodges, moving in a circle and jockeying for position as their swords sung a battle cry with each parry and riposte. To the casual observer the two were hardly moving, almost twitching; to Branden, the arc of each blade was clearly observable, if fast.

The two seemed equally matched, and he saw Aubrey make a mistake - He opened himself up with a thrusting attack, a feint taken a little too far. Iona spiraled to her left and swung. Aubrey leaped backwards, a thin line of red appearing on his chest. The blade itself never struck - It was a Wave Slash from Iona’s weapon which dealt the damage.

Regardless, Aubrey smiled at the light wound and lunged forward. Iona read his attack and leaned in while ducking, thrusting her blade forward and keeping her left hand touching the very, very bottom of the handle. Aubrey deciphered her move as well and moved to his side, causing Iona to miss. Both blades were nearly touching their target, but not scoring a blow.

“You have no way to hurt me,” Iona stated plainly, her right hand by the sword’s guard and her left touching the bottom of the handle to hold it steady, “Because with your weapon so close you can’t gain the momentum to penetrate my clothing, let alone my armor.”

“The same applies to you, bitch,” Aubrey responded in a somewhat surprised tone. Then his voice shifted to one of delight, “Only it doesn’t really apply to me.”

Iona shouted as Branden did - He saw the lines of mystical power release from Aubrey’s blade, the Vortex Thrust technique creating a series of energy waves which smashed against Iona’s armor and flesh, creating a number of small wounds. The blow was weak, but it was the first sign that Iona could be beaten.

As she stepped backwards, she removed her left hand from the bottom of the handle. Suddenly a savage spiritual pulse shot from Iona’s blade, an edged sphere of energy cutting into Aubrey and causing him to growl as he stepped backwards.

“I don’t understand,” the former prince of Ralase began quietly, “you aren’t mimicking me because they’re different techniques. They’re so similar, however, I have to admit you’re good,” Aubrey stated. Then he laughed, proposing what he knew was useless. “Sure you won’t join me?”

“Yeah. Very sure, but the question is, who’s winning - I have two hits against you, you only have one against me. Your technique was a lot of little hits, impossible to evade - Mine was all that energy at once, also very hard to evade yet much more damaging. You’ll lose,” she confidently stated.

“Dream on, pretty one,” Aubrey said. He paused to bite his bottom lip, the wounds Iona had inflicted upon him sealing up rapidly. Within a minute of her damaging him he seemed pristine and unphased. “Soon your blood will be on my blade.”

If Iona were surprised she didn’t show it. She just bowed her head once than charged toward Aubrey again. Mid-step she swung her sword, forcing the Swordpriest to leap into the air and come downward with a thrusting attack.

Iona parried this response and feinted with a counter-thrust, one which Aubrey completely misread. She quickly shifted her weight and made a slashing blow, scoring a direct hit (although a light one) against Aubrey’s chest. Another quick flick of her blade and she dealt a second hit, then retreated before Aubrey could land a single retaliatory strike.

“Hah, how’s that feel?” Iona laughed loudly, looking at him to gauge his reaction and not seeming too concerned with the fact she’d have just slain any normal foe. To her, this seemed to be another day gone well, just another day of work. It was...Amazing to watch, though one of the three people present seemed to disagree”

“Fine. Another cut, another healing!” Aubrey said with a laugh of his own. He raised his sword and made three more slashing attacks into the air, projecting force towards the woman who almost effortlessly deflected them. Then he ran in for more.

Their swords clashed a number of times and Iona yelped first - Aubrey landed a rather decent blow on her left arm. She ignored the pain and dealt two major blows in response: Aubrey scoffed, allowing the second to hit him and beckoning for a third. It came, a dark red line exploding along Aubrey’s chest. He stepped backwards, the pain seeming to fade as he looked up with a grin.

“Three little cuts on my chest, they’ll be gone as fast as the other two!” he proudly declared. He chuckled to himself in that tone which marked a slow descent to madness. Branden’s doubts were not getting any less pressing.

“Don’t you mean five little cuts on your chest, one of them quite big and none of them vanishing?” She taunted in response. His eyes blinked dumbly at her statement, disbelief on his face...And he looked down to himself.

“Impossible,” he whispered, desperately seeking yet failing to affirm his earlier confidence, all to no avail. He was indeed bleeding - Badly. He looked up at her. “How?!” He demanded an answer to her circumvention of his defenses.

“You didn’t do a very good job of sensing your foe out - This sword is not mundane, it is not even minorly enchanted.”

“Oh no...” Aubrey whispered, closing his eyes for a minute before opening them in shock - He knew he’d blown it. His aura reached out, scanned his foe’s weapon for just a moment, detecting the immense magical energy that coated the metal.

Branden had to admit he was completely impressed. Well, “impressed” was a weaker word than his condition alluded to - Blown away was more accurate. She’d completely outfoxed Aubrey! Now, he had to ask himself if it were wise to step in.

Aubrey bit his bottom lip tightly and raised his sword skyward.

“Surrendering already, little man? What a shame, this was just getting amusing. For me, anyway,” she added as an after thought, letting her own pride get the better of her. It was a mistake that Aubrey intended to make her pay for.

“Don’t be so fast, woman, this has just begun!” he roared, rage and pain echoing in his voice. Branden felt the pressure build and the air moved to meet the direction it was taken. He could see the black haired woman lifted into the air suddenly, her arms swiftly pinned to her sides as the invisible force tried to crush her.

She screamed, and Branden could even see a faint golden aura surrounding her. His blue eyes studied the very oxygen surrounding the woman, surveying the lines of power which met and clashed. Aubrey’s was a dark red color, bordering on black, and was pressing inward at all parts of her body. Iona’s was a golden mixed with violet and was pressing against the intrusion, doing fairly well indeed.

Aubrey’s right hand held his broadsword parallel to the ground, his left wrist moving to the crook of his elbow and resting. He bowed his head, almost praying, and his eyes closed.

“Swordpriest Mastery Technique; Coffin of Air,” Aubrey whispered.

“She’s gonna be crushed,” Branden whispered softly.

“Not at all, Lord Frost. Watch,” Aubrey remarked, “Swordpriest Forbidden Inheritance technique; Iron Maiden!” The Lord exclaimed, suddenly slashing his sword into the air.

Branden had expected to see the same Vortex slashes as earlier - Instead, the blades of air came from within the coffin and from all directions, smashing into Iona’s armor and cutting into and through it after little time.

“Lord!” exclaimed the voice of the monk Ammon, coming from behind Branden as he approached at a cool walk. A small group of monks were already heading north, apparently under the dark monk’s orders.

“Ahh, Ammon, just in time to witness our victory! I take it you eliminated the remnants of the enemy force?” Aubrey responded, pausing in his delight.

Iona hung in the air, supported by Aubrey’s technique - The very same one that was killing her. She was struggling, but no longer capable of holding off the pressure the air was exerting on her.

“Not at all; I was defeated. Jagger as well. Scarred Peace, Blind Justice and the blades of two others are approaching as well. We must retreat,” the elder monk calmly advised. So Clarice had an easier time with this defense then Branden and Serge probably had. Knowing the old man, Serge had taken Ammon on and...Well, his leader had made the observation first.

“What?! You aren’t even hurt!” Aubrey was beside himself. His rage grew so great his focus on the Coffin of Air fell apart, letting Iona fall to the ground. She went to her hands and knees and coughed loudly. “How could you retreat? Serge Lenkmen I may understand giving you a hard time, but Clarice Saffron is...”

“Clarice Saffron is far more powerful than you imagine her to be, Lord Aubrey,” Branden said in a cautioning voice. “Plus, Shade and Cassandra Retholden are en route. If you retreat now, you have a chance,” he advised.

“Are you mad? Between myself, Ammon and you - You, for fuck’s sake, Branden - we can take Shade down!” Aubrey was clearly ready, emotionally anyhow, for a fight. Physically, he was still confining the wounded Iona and was bleeding at a respectable rate.

“Aubrey, consider your wounds. The Man who Flew is not to be taken at anything less than full strength. Jagger was incapacitated by Cassandra alone, meaning she is likely a match for me. I might defeat her, but with Serge Lenkmen to reinforce their front I do not trust that I can guarantee keeping her off our backs,” the softly spoken monk stated. His disapproval of Aubrey’s radical violence was clear in his voice.

“Besides,” Branden stated, “I’m fast, but Clarice Saffron is skilled from what I’ve seen. With her guarding Shade’s person, I don’t know that I can land a blow against him without her wounding me too badly. And we know what state you’re in, so its time you go.”

“...Dammit. They’ll pay for this. Every citizen of this country,” Aubrey shouted as he covered his largest wound. He had no mirror or he might have been more afraid - He was growing pale and starting to sweat. He held the wound closed a minute before nodding. “Stabilize this shit and I’ll leave.”

Branden moved to the Swordpriest and whispered, a gentle breeze flowing from his palm to the wound on Aubrey’s chest. It did not heal but it did manage to stop bleeding. Ammon ripped part of his robe off and wrapped it around Aubrey’s chest, further limiting the bleeding.

“Now, retreat!” Branden shouted. With a nod and a smile, the three parted ways - The two moved through the northern gate, followed by a small detail of manpower, and Branden moved to Iona.

“That was amazing,” he whispered as his hand moved to her forehead. His body glowed with blue radiance and it spread to her, the many wounds she’d suffered quickly healing. “Even I didn’t do this well against Aubrey.”

“Wait,” Iona said suspiciously, “You fought him? Why? You’re his second in command.” She dropped the knowledge as if it was common, but those who knew were limited to maybe, at most, four people outside of their junta.

“As amazed as I am that you know this, I...” Branden trailed off, his pause a sharp difference from his previous admiration. “I’m not sure if Aubrey is the man I once knew him to be. But, I fought him to prove my skill, if you must know; my worthiness.”

“He’s a mass murdering maniac, how could he be anything else?” She replied sharply.

“He used to have some idealism in him. I think he might be getting corrupt with his power,” Branden stated flatly.

“You think?” she began to remark, but the sound of armor being ran in - a distinctive scraping and stepping pattern - told both that company approached.

“Branden! Are you alright? Who’s the girl and how is she?” shouted Jacin as he ran up toward the duo. Serge was not far behind.

“I’m fine. This is Iona, though she introduced herself as Sarnial a while back,” Frost replied. Recognition dawned in the elder’s eyes and he nodded.

“Well, glad to meet you again,” Serge said as politely as his irritation would let him. Whatever it was that had the old man’s mind occupied, it was major. “Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here, bloodied and cut up?”

“Honoring the Shamanic-Emorian alliance, signed by Lord Shade,” Iona replied with an angry look to Serge from her black eyes.

“....She’s got you there, old man,” Jacin commented with a weak grin. Serge’s face lightened a little and he nodded.

“Not surprising,” Serge remarked to himself dryly.

Chapter Twenty Four

It was a full 16 hours after the battle had ended and the Arcanics were still picking up the pieces. They were exhausted, but the medical magic the spell casters used were working wonders. There were casualties, but the time to bury them and mourn would be later. Now, however, the time was right for saving every life possible and ensuring no further attacks could disrupt that effort. The time was also right for the winds of change to begin in a meeting between four men - The chilly Branden Frost, the knightly Serge Lenkmen, the mysterious Iona and King Anatoly Tevalain

“So let me understand you correctly,” King Tevalain spoke despite his injured leg and the pain medications flowing through his blood. He was a fast healer, and the Arcanics treated him first out of all the wounded whose lives were not threatened; yet his wounds would still require some physical healing as well. “You, Iona, are also called Sarinal by the Shamans and have come in response to an alliance made by the Arcanic Shade, not the Hora Serge Lenkmen and his team?” The king asked in an exasperated voice, adding as an after-note, “And one of our Fecha, a good man by the name of Alan Booker, is nearly dead and recovering in Shamansen?”

“Well, that would be the summary of it, highness,” The black-haired vixen responded in a chilled voice - Not one of an uncaring bitch, but one that showed she was an unafraid bitch. Serge’s silence was well laid at this point - He’d put Alan in for a promotion and made damn sure it had gone through, and the King never questioned the difference.

“And you expect me to just take this sitting down?!” he said with a quite astonished, angry shout.

Serge looked the king over and sighed softly. “My lord, my friend, you cannot stand up right now - Nor should you. The Shamans have provided the answer to the increased attacks on our kingdom, and we have also been helped to find enemies within our kingdom.”

“As true as that is, one of our men is a virtual prisoner there, Serge! We can’t just let that happen, we need to send a squad or something or another to save him!” The king replied.

“My king,” Branden stated quite softly. He was the calming presence of the three figures assembled in the throne room, “I vouch that Iona’s people will take good care of Alan. I saw what happened to the man, his wounds are to yours what a boulder is to a grain of sand, and those are just the physical ones. The emotional ones - His love for Clarice, his dislike of Kathy, it all would have led to disaster. Now, at least, he has a chance to recover.”

“Dammit, I can see I’m overruled,” the old, wounded King responded with a downward glance reflecting defeat and anger.

“Especially because,” said a voice which came from seemingly nowhere, “I have a request, King Tevalain.”

“Shade?” the question came without need for an answer, though the king’s tone was less than thrilled. “Step in, old friend, please,” the Monarch stated. The doors swiftly parted and the two black robed lovers, Cassandra and Shade, entered with all the pomp and circumstance they were accustomed to - Gasps of awe at their casual appearance despite all that had happened.

“King, I request the doors be closed and that only the six of us overhear this conversation. It is of terrible, terrible importance and it cannot, I’m afraid, be known to others. Cassandra already understands the levity of the discussion at hand, and I vouch that few things, save the threat of more dark angels or the return in greater force of the assailants of the previous day.”

The king seemed to weigh this decision for a moment then he nodded his head. Branden did the honors and moved to the doors, closing them.

“This is the gravest of security crises, my lord,” Cassandra began. The king shortly raised his hand to silence her.

“Lady Cassandra, why is this woman still in the room?” By ‘this’ the king could only mean Iona. Cassandra seemed almost surprised at the question - Shade was unphased and apparently unpleased.

“She is part of the solution to the problem, and is an ally of our country, therefore she must know,” the elder mage responded in a silvery, sly, and downright slippery tone.

“Very well; since it is your personal issue it appears. Go ahead,” The King stated in a voice soaked in aggravation and unwilling resignation.

“Bear with me, because this may be long, and all questions will be answered in it. Call it a revelation. You recall, of course, when Adrian Harper wrote his Short History of Emor, yes? And you recall the opening discussion about how the Conflagration has causes unknown?” A few befuddled nods, and he bowed his head. “Glad to hear, people. The fact of the matter is that Harper was right in citing evidence that a technological war had taken place. What I reveal now is a legend very sparsely known, for a motive which I will make very clear shortly.”

He ignored the stunned faces of his audience and continued. “It is said, in the books where I am from, that there are three completed Epochs of our history. The first, it is said, is that of the Gods - No records of this exist, save the battle Frost, Lenkmen and others had with an angel. The second was the Epoch of Arcane; with the Gods gone, all that was left was men, monsters and Arcane power. Magic, in a sense, was the good’s gift to the world while monsters were the evil - And the magic users grew strong, terribly so, until a war devastated the societies. We have scant records of this,” he announced, ignoring the eyes on him.

“Third...Third came the Epoch of Men. The records I’ve seen pertaining to this era’s end speak of a war between the People’s Republic of Cernai and the Free Empire of Rhinegold. This war began over the breach of a treaty designed to regulate artificial intelligence war machines. They were expressly forbidden, yet ten of the units were built by Cernai; with a total of four of them escaping their control. The Republic knew one was destroyed in a six on one battle between their creations, and theorize that one was destroyed in a Tero-Nuclear attack–”

“Tero-Nuclear?” The king asked, astonished. All Yenoharan research in that field pointed to immeasurable power from just one detonation of that type of weapon. “That must have destroyed a whole city! Not even a Hora like Lord Frost could survive that! If that’s true, it’s gone. But, where are you going with this?” The king queried impatiently.

“It’s true it was attacked. This action violated about 60 international treaties and a war was started. The Free Empire of Rhinegold, as you may have guessed, had its capital in present-day Coaslund. We live in what was about one quarter of Rhinegold’s territory. The Republic of Cernai was located on a continent far, far to the east of ours. It had, however, a small territory called Solan. Harper mentions how the rise of Solasce as a legend is because of his theory that there was a war. Solasce is a real,” he hesitated, “a very real place, and it has a real interest in confirming if these three A.I. units are indeed destroyed or just decommissioned.”

“Alright, Shade, I have to ask how you know this?” The king was pale, sweating, and shaking - And it was not from the medication he was on for the pain of his injuries.

“I was born there. I am currently employed by Solasce’s military division as a spy. I am known as Agent Black, and I know there are agents for every province in Emor. They are planning something.”

“You?” Branden asked with a choked voice. This was a hero, a man he was born and raised believing in... “You’re a spy?!” he shouted, drawing his sword in a sudden rage.

“Branden, please, relax,” Cassandra urged cautiously, looking toward Shade.

“Cassandra, as much as your love for this liar has blinded you, he has to die! He may well have killed us all!”

“I’ve known for years, Branden,” she answered patiently, “He’s been giving them false information for a long time, whenever it wouldn’t conflict with other sources not so high up, and he’s been making plans for a defense against them. How do you think Yenohar came up with the plans for the Corvettes they’ve constructed?”

Yenohar had a collection of three Corvettes - Each of these was as large as four city blocks and flew, carrying massive arrays of laser weaponry. So far as anyone knew, these black-box projects were experimental. None knew that they had been fully tested - in Solasce.

“Alright, Branden, I understand your feelings. It was not an easy choice to betray my former countrymen, but when I saw what sort of abuses they had in store for the country I’ve come to love as my one and only, I could not tolerate it.” The Arcanic bowed his head a moment, allowed his shoulders to rise and fall visibly. “I do not expect forgiveness, only understanding and your trust that I am on your side.”

“Have faith in him, Branden,” spoke the lady Cassandra without any hesitation (or so it seemed), squarely backing her lover.

“Alright,” the king interrupted with a gentle sigh. “Let’s assume the worst case scenario, what do you know that Solasce has against us?”

“Worst case is they recover those mechanical warriors, king,” Shade replied smoothly, as if he’d rehearsed this conversation before. “If that is the case, provided they are stable and work for the Solasce military rather than themselves, I highly doubt we will endure an attack from them. Cassandra and I can, it is estimated, eliminate one of them.”

“Both of you to destroy one of these things?” Serge asked in a rather surprised voice. “Truth be told, Lord Shade, I doubt that Solasce didn’t gain any new technology in the last thousand years - They probably have far greater science than these things.”

“Contrary to that logical theory, Solasce has had enough problems - Limited natural resources, not enough land for a burgeoning population, and no room to test new weapons systems. Imagine our surprise if we saw one of their Corvettes flying overhead - I think we’d figure out the jig is up,” Shade replied with a nod.

“So no technological upgrades except perhaps in small-arms, perhaps in defenses; what about their Arcane or Hora level fighters?” The king asked.

“Not many. While Cernai had also broken the Anti-Arcanic treaties, Solasce never developed a large Arcanic corps, and most of what they have is poorly trained. They lack a strong Hora corps, again due to having little practical experience other then what agents brought back. Also,” he moved to add, “most of what they have will receive orders from Agent Black to reconsider their lives in Solasce and decide what is right - Siding with innocent people who cherish freedom or facing a war with no end. No easy end, anyway,” he amended.

“That’s something of a relief.” Branden said with a sigh as he looked toward the silent Iona, who had her golden eyes affixed upon Shade.

“Not so much of one. Their military is primarily technological, but do not let them fool you - Their war walkers are still two steps, at least, above what Yenohar has. Perhaps not a match for an Hora in a one on one duel, but enough to be worried about. Second, they have a much larger aerial fleet, considering that is how they will manage their invasion.”

“That’s...Not very re-assuring after all,” Branden added with another sigh.

“No, its not. But they don’t acknowledge their weaknesses, and that has been history’s greatest strength - When a foe turns a blind eye to his vulnerabilities, he is open. I’m more concerned with the group the woman Lilith was involved with - The Saints.”

“Ahh yes,” Iona responded with a faint smile. Branden seemed shocked to hear her speak. “The Saints...I’ve had run-ins with them before. Their leadership caste consists of six elite warriors. I can safely say one of those seats is unused - I slew the woman holding it, and the one who succeeded her was Lilith.”

“Wow, you defeated one of their leaders?” The King asked in something of surprise.

“Indeed, wow....” the Arcanic commented. “The six Apostles are among the strongest warriors to ever live, from what minuscule information the Shamans had,” Shade added.

“I know. I hardly made it out of that fight alive, but I have enough information regarding them that, should we meet, I can neutralize them with your assistance,” Iona responded with a swift glance to the ground before she looked back to the group.

“Yeah, I bet,” Branden muttered, “You’re an amazing fighter.” he said in a voice which bordered on flirtation. He might even have slid a wink in, before he caught a look at Iona’s golden eyes.

Deadly serious - The only phrase that might describe them. While Iona was beautiful, she was nothing less than obsessed, it seemed, with her swordplay and the fall of the Saints. They had something in common, something deep. “Thank you, Branden,” She replied, leaving no doubt that she was aware of their threat.

“Then it’s settled - Aside from the men who recently assailed the kingdom, we must be vigilant against both the six Apostles and Solasce as a military power. So now I suspect you need orders?” The king looked toward Shade almost as if the Arcanic had suddenly become the king.

“No. The orders you’ve given are simple - Eliminate any threat that these rogue Artificial Intellegences might pose, thus we’re quite fine in terms of official word.”

“I have one more,” Tevalain responded. “I will send emissaries to Gam separate from your mission, but as you are heading southeast you are to stop at Ralase and visit king Rayne Castrell.”

Branden and Serge both seemed surprised. Whoever was more astonished was hard to tell, but their reasons were vastly different.

“I haven’t seen Ralase’s castle since Rayne was a boy and Aubrey vanished” stated Serge excitedly, seeming to enjoy the prospect of visiting the young prince.

“Yeah. Rayne...” paused the other before querying, “I suppose it’s because of the renegade Swordpriests, king?” Branden asked.

“Yes indeed, we must know whatever Rayne does and enlist his aid,” stated Tevalain. Branden suppressed a sigh of relief that his comrade had not been discovered...Yet.

“Alright, my king. If this is the last I see you...” Shade stated, then removed a small diskette from his robes. “It is my last will that this is played for the entirety of Emor. Even Presia,” Shade added with a grin towards Cassandra.

“It is mine as well,” the female spell caster responded. She didn’t seem pleased about the prospect of Presia knowing whatever was on that storage device, but it gave her eyes such a strange contentment...

“Fair enough. Good luck, comrades. Find and inform your men, and go with valor!” King Tevalain said; though he appeared joyous and confident, he knew he would not be seeing at least one of his friends again.
******
The two women sat in the single-bed, single-bath room designed for inhabitation by one military officer - In their case, they only needed the one room. It had been heavily decorated for their enjoyment - Candles both by the bed and the bathtub, ropes at each bedpost (apparently the men preparing the bed thought some ultra-kinky games were going to go down...And who’s to say they wouldn’t?) And the couple had added their own clothing to the mix, the garments strewn around the floor haphazardly.

“I wonder why I wasn’t asked to go, if I’ll be with their group? The same with Jacin and Charles,” Clarice wondered aloud with her partner. “We all got left out of the central meeting.”

“Well,” Kathy responded, “I guess because we don’t need to do strategy planning with the king. I’m better off for it,” she said with a smile and a touch to the other’s shoulder.

“Me too!” Clarice responded energetically, giving Kathy a soft kiss which turned into a long session of time together. The pleasure ended almost two hours later, when the two lay in bed recovering. The ropes, sadly, never found a use.

“Clarice....Are you okay?” Kathy asked with a faint look of concern on her face. Their joy had been great, but Clarice ended it on such a strange note.

“I don’t know,” the beauty responded softly. She looked downright thoughtful, as if pondering something deep and meaningful (as most wise people tended to do.) “Its about Alan, I guess. He was hurt badly, and now we’re being sent on another major mission.”

“I understand,” the understanding scientist answered back. “Alan will recover of course. The Shamans I trust that far. As to the mission, well...” Kathy hesitated a moment, then sighed. “I need to talk to you about that.”

Clarice looked surprised. The candles in the room flickered merely from the emotional jolt. “You aren’t coming with us?”

“No, no I am,” Kathy said with a gentle smile on her lips. “But I need to tell you something. I...Well, only one other person in the whole of the Kingdom knows it, maybe two.”

She figured this one had to be big - Only one or two? That sort of secrecy was hard to keep, even in a kingdom which encouraged occasional cover-ups if the need was great enough. Clarice was nervous, but she nodded her head. “Go ahead, I’m ready.”

Kathy seemed not to know where to start - Yet at the same time, it seemed she’d rehearsed it a thousand times.

“I know what Shade went to talk about, and I know the mission coming up, and that’s why he didn’t want us to go. He wanted me to tell you first.”

“Really?!” Clarice said with excitement. She smiled and turned to the quite naked beauty next to her in bed, noting that sweat still dropped down their bodies yet she felt so energetic now...Perhaps those ropes might have a use after all.... “How?! And what?!”

“Well...We are going, and you might not believe this, to prevent the hidden nation of Solasce from ever activating one or more archaic weapons which could bring ruin to our nation.”

Clarice stared at her lover for a moment, then laughed loudly, chuckling so hard that she doubled over. Her moist eyes looked up at the other and Clarice very nearly tackled her right there.

“You don’t believe me?” Kathy said with shock in her eyes.

“No, I suppose I do,” Clarice said, canting her head to the side. “But how would you know?”

“Because Shade, though he has since become a traitor to their cause, is known as Agent Black and came to Emor to work for them?” Kathy said tentatively, almost...Jokingly, but with enough of an edge of seriousness.

“Alright,” Clarice said with a smile. Though her mind was racing with fear, she trusted Kathy’s assumption on Shade’s loyalty. “And you know this how?”

“Because, up until recently, I worked for them as well as Agent Blue.”

Now things came undone.

“What?” Clarice asked in a patient-sounding (to her) voice. The reality was, her tone cracked more than once with that one little word.

“Clarice, please understand....I helped perfect about three military models in the laboratories which can handle Solasce’s armed forces. It’s not an even match, but between Shade and myself we’ve smuggled out enough technology to increase our standing by fifty years. To top it off, I am indeed an Arcanic trained in part by Shade. You have to trust me...”

“Trust you?!” Perhaps those ropes wouldn’t be used after all, Clarice thought in some small, calm corner of her mind, except maybe to tie the traitor down until the guards arrived. “You fucking used me to get rank, you used me to get pleasure, and you used me to get info?!” All of these baseless accusations, except perhaps the second and a little of the third - Rank? The hell would she be used for rank over? Clarice knew Kathy earned that, but somehow the conspiracies just flew from her lips regardless.

“Clarice, it wasn’t like that. I love you, I really do....” A protest, offered weakly as the woman’s eyes watered.

“Bullshit, you love me! You came to this country to destroy me, to destroy Coaslund and everything else! How dare you?!” Clarice shouted. She might have gone on, but she looked into the woman’s eyes. She saw the burgeoning tears and relented just a little, her tirade of shouts diminishing momentarily.

“I really do love you, Clarice...I do, I turned on them remember? I’m going with you to stop them and save us all...What do I have to do to prove it?” Kathy’s desperate plea struck home to Clarice’s mind, and she pondered. Her answer was a simple one.

“Kiss me.”

They say one can know honesty, connection, love and other things in a simple kiss. Clarice and Kathy, for the first time, kissed with everything on the line and that line did not falter. It was perhaps the most ‘real’ kiss the lovers had endured, riskier than their first could ever have been, but it remained true after all - Kathy was forgiven.