The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 35

War Council

Fabien descended on the massive army camp set up in the valley near the western border of the Sun Region. The shadow-dhaesí’s new mount, a qilin chimera—made for him by Peramier to replace his draco-equus—was not as fast as Fabien’s old mount on the ground, but its ability to run through the clouds helped to make up the difference.
His new beast was a curious jumble of different creatures. It had a flowing mane of thick black hair like that of a lion and two long carp fish-like whiskers. A pair of antlers sprouted from either side of its head. Fish-like scales the color of scorched steel covered its muscular, horse-like body and a powerful lizard-like tail twice as long as the creature’s body flowed like a river behind it, never touching the ground, not even when it stood still.
The creature gave a high-pitched pulse call like a whale as they passed over the ancient runes north of the army camp where the soldiers were all hard at work rebuilding a massive stone structure that looked like it would collapse in on itself at any second.
The military camp itself was split into four very obvious segments. Three of the segments were each further divided into twenty regiments of five-thousand abomination infantry. The fourth segment was comprised of abomination cavalry, their steeds, and around ten-thousand beast trainers—the beast trainers’ trolls were kept fifty stades east of the camp in their own enclosure. In the center of the canvas city on top of a hill was the large red canvas tent surrounded by smaller—yet still far larger and more comfortable than the rest of the army’s—tents for the leadership.
Fabien brought the qilin chimera down on the hill and as its cloven hooves hit the ground, they scorched stone and grass with the gray fire that covered the beast’s legs.
As soon as the beast came to a halt, Fabien spun in the saddle and leaped off the beast’s back, right into the red canvas tent.
“You’re late,” Guerra said, looking up from the table baring the maps and military documents.
“I realize that,” Fabien scowled at the large man. His size and bald head made Fabien think back to Grand General Kohr for a split instant.
“Well? What’s your excuse then?” Guerra asked, staring at Fabien with only one eye open.
“My new steed is not as fast as the old one. It will take some time to get used to it,” Fabien replied.
“You know, you could try to sound a little grateful,” Peramier said with a dazzling smile from where he sat lounging in a chair, his feet resting on the table. “Do you know how hard it is to make one of those things. Especially one willing to listen to someone of your moral disposition.”
We should cut the insolent whelp’s pretty face, teach him some manners, the voice in Fabien’s head said.
“It still isn’t my old draco-equus,” Fabien snapped at Peramier.
“Hey now, manners. I’m not the one who got my steed eaten by a werewolf,” Peramier grinned.
“You allowed a werewolf to kill your mount?” Guerra said sounding surprised. “You couldn’t even stop a measly mut.”
“The werewolf was not the problem!” Fabien and the voice in his head yelled in unison. “It was his companion that was the real threat.”
“Ah yes, about that,” Peramier said, waving a crumpled piece of parchment in the air. “Your description of the demigod you faced was a little confusing.”
“I never called him a demigod,” Fabien spat.
“Then what was he?” a powerful, disembodied voice said before Peramier could deliver another sarcastic remark. A form made of mist began to take shape at the head of the table covered in maps. Cain’s ice-blue eyes were the first things to take form in the astral body. “I have read your report as well, Fabien. But I think I too would rather hear you describe this young man who has bested you in person.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Fabien said, bowing his head. “As I wrote in my letter, the young man was at the assassination point. He drew my attention when he appeared on the scene. I could sense there was something different about him, and I was right. He foiled my attempt on Grand General Kohr where no man should have been able to do so. He and the werewolf then followed me into the desert. The werewolf was too fast for my draco-equus. I was forced to face the young man in one-on-one combat.”
“And you lost,” Cain said. His body had fully taken form now and he was resting his ghostlike elbows on the table as he brought his folded fingers to his face.
“With all due respect, I did not lose, My Lord. The young man just caught me off-guard, that’s all. The information I received about the assassination was incomplete, nowhere was there any mention of a warrior with such magical abilities,” Fabien explained and it felt like Cain’s cold eyes bored a hole through him. “At first I assumed him to be a druid because he magically manipulated the air to thwart my assassination. But when we fought, he used voynich Gate Magic as well. Also, his speed and strength were far beyond that of a septim or druid. In fact, it was even beyond that of a dhaesí.”
“You’re saying he was a Galatea?” Cain asked.
“Yes, My Lord. Whatever he is, I have never faced his kind before in my life.” Fabien nodded.
“A what?” Guerra said.
“A Galatea. A person whose blood derives from multiple races, connecting them to multiple magic sources.”
“He’s angelian?” Guerra said in concern.
Cain shook his head. “All angelians were Galatea, but we’re not the only ones.”
“But technically he could be angelian?” Guerra insisted.
Cain was silent for a long uncomfortable moment as he thought about this. Eventually he said, “Well Fabien, could this warrior you faced have been one of my people who somehow survived?”
“I can’t be sure,” Fabien said. He thought back to the young man he had fought in the desert. “His pallor and eyes could be considered fitting for an angelian, but his hair was not white. I only saw him use two sorts of magic, that isn’t enough to prove he might be a survivor of Tír na Angelus.”
Cain just grunted and again a palpable silence filled the tent. After what felt like an eternity he said, “Whatever this warrior is, if left unchecked he could become a problem for us. And if he is, in fact, one of my people who somehow survived, I want to know how before I take his power to add to mine.” He turned to Peramier and said, “I trust you have sent your spies to look into him?”
“I have, My Lord,” Peramier said as he stood up. “But we haven’t been able to discover anything interesting yet. We do know his name is Alexander—”
“What?” Cain rasped and atmosphere in the tent changed. even the voice in Fabien’s head retreated into silence at the obvious anger bubbling beneath the angelian’s surface. His ice blue eyes became like two fires and the temperature in the tent dropped rapidly until frost covered the ground and the canvas of the tent.
“His name is Alexander. Why, My Lord. Does that name mean something to you?” Peramier asked.
Of course, it does, fool. Cain has never reacted so viscerally to anything before, Fabien thought.
Cain’s astral body threatened to lose shape as emotion overcame the true angelian back in the Fallen City. “Do you have any idea where he is from? Who his parents were? Anything.”
“Who his parents were and where he was born is a mystery, but it would seem before he came to Primoris a few months ago, he was part of a mercenary group called The Golden Spear from the Steredenn Islands,” Peramier rambled.
Cain’s astral form solidified again after a few more seconds and he said in a forced calm, “What else do you know?”
“He and the werewolf accompanied Kohr back to Pensilisurbis. As of two weeks ago, King Johan swore in this Alexander as a Special Commander of Pensilisurbis. The strangest part of the information I got is that apparently his original reason for going to the city was to study beneath the royal blacksmith.”
“The blacksmith?” Fabien asked. “Why would he wish to learn from a blacksmith?”
“As I said, that is the strange part. We can’t seem to make heads or tails of why he would want that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cain said. His voice was so calm and cold now that Fabien was surprised that a new layer of frost was not forming in the tent. “This young man concerns me deeply. I want all three of you to dedicate as much resources as you can spare to keep an eye on him. If he leaves the city, I want to be informed at once. However, if he does not leave, and he is still there by the time we lay siege to Pensilisurbis, I want him to be made a priority. I want him captured alive and brought to me. If you can’t manage that, then capture his companions and question them for as much information on him as possible.” Cain’s eyes flashed as he added, “But no matter what, I want this Alexander taken alive.”
No! Fuck you, you bald bastard. He’s ours. When we see him, we will kill him! The voice in Fabien’s head returned with fury.
“Is that understood?” Cain barked, seeing the irritation Fabien had not hidden fast enough.
“Yes, My Lord,” Fabien lied.
“Good,” Cain said. “Now back to business of the army. How much longer before you can march on the city walls?”
“Yes, My Lord! We are ready to begin, all that remains is to finish the repairs on the Veil Gate Lord Peramier assures me will allow us to transport all the men from our current position to a place a few miles west of the city. This way they will not see us coming until it is too late.”
“A Veil Gate? I’ve heard of these,” Cain said, sounding intrigued. “Aren’t they part of the list of forbidden spells?”
“They are, but as we all know, not all the items on that list have a good reason for being there. The Veil Gate is blood magic, and therefore it is forbidden on moral grounds. I assure you, My Lord, I will not use any magic that could destroy Primoris,” Peramier smiled.
“Very well,” Cain said. “You all have your orders. Let the end begin.”