QuiteTheSlacker
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Chapter 51: So That No One Will Cry
🕑 Added 2024-06-18 06:02:47 +0000 UTC“Ever since my birth, I had been drawn to that realm beyond the Stars. It was ingrained in me. It was my life’s sole purpose, the reason for this grand title as the Comet Ladislava. Hah, the Comet… bringer of change. Herald of the new world. But I never saw it that way. To me, it was a curse—a festering curse I could never escape from, for I was but a puppet in this cycle without end. I was meant to rise, to unite the people, and to eventually fall before the atrocity’s hands like all others before me.
“So, I ran. I ran away from my urges. I ran away from my tribe touting me as the savior. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want to be responsible for humanity’s fate. I just wanted to live a quiet life—a satisfied life, one where I could blend in as any other child.
“And I did, at first. I fled to the land of green pastures and rolling meadows known as Camelot, and I masked myself as the daughter of a merchant family. It was easy; my eyes always did have a curious disposition to charm people, but I could never stomach using it often. I knew it was a deplorable act, to manipulate the goodwill of others, but I was desperate. I needed a place to call home, and I found it. And it was nicer than anything I had ever experienced before. Here, I could finally be myself, thus did I spend the next few years of my youth as an ordinary girl.
“And then came the rebellion, the war which consumed the land in terror and mutiny. It wasn’t a surprising event, and I had always expected for the slaving class to rise up one day, but it progressed much, much faster than I initially thought. The ruling class became paranoid; they began to torment my new family and the common folk under the guise of rooting out insurrectionists. Yet, even so, I remained passive, for to join the fight would mean stoking these long buried embers aflame. It didn’t concern me. Nothing concerned me. All I had to do was keep my head down and wait for the dust to settle.
“That is, until I met Arthur. Until I one day saw his figure speaking out in the square. Fervent. Impassioned. He truly wanted to bring about change, to revel in a better world, and as I listened to his voice - a voice so filled with life unlike mine - I gave in to the divine’s call. I wanted to create that world as well, but not just for this one little corner of the land. No, I wanted to spread happiness to every farm and field, to those of the desert, the tribes hiding in the forest: men, women, creature, beast… my love would spread afar, and I resolved to do what my predecessors couldn’t.
“I resolved to slay the Constellation, no matter what sacrifices had to be made.”
Ladislava, the former Comet
———
Ascalon
“PREPOSTEROUS! COMPLETE, UTTER INSANITY! ”
A familiar, gallant voice erupts into the room as the good Chancellor slams the doors wide open and bustles forth, face utterly aghast. It is about time the man finally revealed himself: I was starting to think he would stay latched to the door for the entire meeting.
“… Well met, Gadreel,” the King says, holding back a slight chuckle. “If you had wished to join us, you needed only ask me. Your council will always be welcome.”
“Ah—oh!” the elder gasps. He spins his head around towards the Templars and becomes a bright, vibrant red in the cheeks. It seems his heart bid him move before the brain could object. “My apologies. I was - ehem - on a, how do you say, casual stroll around the castle when these old ears of mine just so happened to hear a rather startling proposition.”
“Think nothing of it, Chancellor. You are here now; if you’d like to voice your thoughts, now is the time.”
“Very well then. If I may…” Gadreel takes a big gulp of air, tidies his garments, and then lets out a deep sigh as he moves to face Lorelai. It is clear the prospect of disputing her does not weigh easily on his mind, but nevertheless he remains steadfast and carefully deliberates his words. “Dame Lorelai: Thy plan is an admirable one, and I do not necessarily disagree with taking advantage of the underground’s passage, but I cannot allow you to take his majesty outside the capital’s protection. The King’s and Queen’s of morrow’s promise must remain here, and for good reason: We must not repeat the tragedy of his holiness Arthur. If the people were to lose their ruler now… then that shall be the end of us all.”
Tradition. It is a powerful thing—capable of enslaving the thoughts of those who have long since diverged from their ancestors. So different, yet still so similar. And though Ascalon loathes being a mere idol for the people’s worship - an ornament, a gilded decoration - he has finally since come to terms with his responsibility. He has accepted it, and he has decided to do what is allowed of him. So it is unfair that Lorelai now proposes what he has yearned so long for—to shake the resolve he has just precariously built.
One wishes for a dangerous task. Another wishes for stability. Who should he support? Ascalon does not know, but after what he has just seen from Lorelai, he knows she will not back down without a fight.
“How long ago was that decree?” Lorelai says, her demeanor entirely unchanged. “Thousands of years, Gadreel. Far too many, and all we have left of their remembrance is a few scarce records. Times have changed; we no longer have reason to be so protective of the city.”
“So you deign to abandon the people of their protector?” Gadreel replies. “No matter how safe the capital may seem, one must never discount the possibility of a foe lying in wait—just like the baleful murderer you slayed not so long ago.”
“I am not suggesting to leave it entirely undefended. Why not have Annalay stay in Ascalon’s stead?”
“Huh?” Annalay stutters. “Hold on now, why’s my name coming up all of a sudden? Lorelai?” She brings her hand up and, with a grunt, rubs her helm’s temple as Lorelai’s intent slowly begins to dawn on her. “Is this some bad joke? No. No you’re… you’re serious. You really want me to stay back, don’t you? Damn it, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh. Heh, that stings. I didn’t expect you of all people to treat me like this. What, am I really that untrustworthy!?”
She roars out in rage, and the air whips around the room in a wild fit—lashing at the walls whilst forcing the Templars onto their feet.
“Annalay,” Lorelai begins, raising her hand and motioning for peace. “Let me explain—”
“To hells with that! I know I’m crass sometimes - a bit rough in my methods, sure - but I’ve never hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. You saw me out there, didn’t you? At the entrance? Yeah, those knights got a bit dirty, but I controlled myself. They didn’t even get so much as a bruise, and I made sure to clean up my mess in the end.
“I—I know I didn’t have the best first impression, and I, um, did drag you into my private matters, but are you really going to exclude me because of that? No, Cosmos be damned if you think I’m just going to sit back and give up my chance to slaughter those Caelum bastards for all they’ve done to us!”
Annaly’s wrath is like a storm: unrelenting. Indiscriminate. The Nature’s Throne has always had a reputation for being ferocious, but Ascalon has never seen her so enraged before, and it is clear the others know not how to react. One by one, they step back and hesitantly grab at their weapons, but they are never fully drawn: only half held in the scabbard, waiting for when she truly crosses the line.
Something must be done. But before Ascalon can raise his voice and put a stop to this madness, Surasha rushes forward and delivers a mighty slap to the raging Annalay’s cheek.
“Oh for Stars’ sake, calm down already!” she shouts into her ear, and surprisingly her sudden ambush succeeds in leaving the Throne speechless for a moment. “This isn’t like you, Annalay. I know you’re mad, I’m a bit confused too, but you know Lorelai doesn’t think of you that way. How could you for a second believe that, after all that happened at the Virtues? Does that make sense to you?”
Annalay doesn’t speak. She slumps her body and hangs her head down in response, embarrassed after causing such a scene. “No,” she eventually utters. “Guess I was just too hasty.”
“Yeah, you were. Feeling dumb now?”
“Hah, more than that.”
“Good. Because you looked real stupid out there, so settle down and listen to what Lorelai has to say. You can do that at least, can’t you?”
She sighs and then collapses with a thud onto her rear. “Course I can. And… sorry everyone for getting heated. Not my proudest moment, but I’ll try to make it my last. Maybe.”
The others breathe a sigh of relief and let go of their weapons. Lorelai, however, hasn’t moved a step since the very beginning—as if she has known Annalay would never rampage against her fellows. On the contrary, she giggles before the display and then places a soft hand on the sulking Throne’s shoulder.
“Everything is alright, Annalay,” she says. “I had a feeling you would dislike my proposal, but know that I did not make this choice out of distrust. Rather, it is because I depend on you so that I wish to entrust the citizens’ safety in your care. Your power is second only to Ascalon’s in regards to defense; no one else here is capable of safeguarding the people save for you.
“And, I think some time in the capital would do you well. Mend your relationships. Besides, Mary has waited for you all this time. You do not wish to make her lonely again, do you?”
To this, Annalay lets out a bright guffaw and rises back onto her feet—hand over heart. Gaze straight and clear. “Well, can’t refute that. Guess I’ll consider this my first ever leave: One not in a cell, at least.”
It is pleasant indeed to watch such friendship blossom, or so Ascalon chuckles in his head. Except, he notices the mood has gone quite in Lorelai’s favor—as if his departure has already been determined. And he is not the only one to notice this: The moment Annalay finishes her hardy speech, Gadreel clears his throat with a loud “Eh-hem!” and directs the attention to himself once more.
“While this is all a most delightful atmosphere,” he says. “May I all remind you the matter of our King’s departure is not yet resolved?”
“Hm? Oh, that is right,” Lorelai says with a light laugh. “Pardon me, Chancellor: I assumed you would have relented by now.”
“Oh, I am a very stubborn man, my lady. And unfortunately, this is one affair where my foot must remain firmly stamped. His majesty’s safety must never be threatened.”
“Oh?” she questions. “But I dare say Ascalon shall be the safest among us. After all, he has the power of the Monarch’s Wings. He is the Inheritor of Freedom’s Will. Gadreel, I truly do not understand your concerns, for there is no one in this land more protected than he.
“He, who has the blessing of invulnerability.”
Invulnerability: impervious to any and all physical wounds. To be wholly incapable of receiving any sort of injury, whether it be from poison or blade or miasma or flame. Nothing can harm Ascalon for as long as he is surrounded by his countryman: That is the gift bestowed upon those who claim Freedom’s mantle, and that is why Ascalon has always wished to escape this caged city. With this power, he could stop any blow—prevent so many from perishing on the battlefield, yet it is because of this very ability that he must remain here to lend peace to those who cannot fight.
And he is satisfied with this position. After all, is there no more noble purpose than to protect the meek? Here, he can be the hero he so desires without taking a single step outside his castle. By virtue of his very existence, he is the strongest of them all: a paragon of might.
He is satisfied.
“But my lady, the King’s invulnerability wanes the lesser his congregation. There are millions in this city—millions to give liturgy to the Monarch’s Wings. Can you truly be assured his power will persist with the smaller number of the army?”
He has to be.
“Gadreel, the first King, Arthur, had but a mere 300,000 subjects to his name. We have grown vastly as a nation, and so too have our available forces. The knights of the orders shall be more than enough to retain Ascalon’s authority.”
And yet, deep down within, he knows he isn’t.
“B-But our tradition…”
When he closes his eyes, he can still see the ashes of his former village. He can see the charred corpses of his family, and he remembers his cowardice—how he ran away, abandoning them all to their fate.
“Tradition, by its very nature, is meant to serve the people. Once, we may have had use of such a system, but nations grow. People evolve, changing, discovering new identities, and when the time comes when tradition is no longer of use, then we must discard our old ways. We must forge new values, ones meant for the us of the present, and so on in the future shall those values be changed again. That is the cycle of life; that change is why humanity continues to thrive.”
And he knows. He knows that he was just a child: a poor, desperate, starving little child. The him of the past doesn’t know any better. The him of the past couldn’t have known any better.
“Ascalon…
Even if I did confront that soldier, would anything have changed? Would I have been able to prevent our village’s destruction? The boy back then only wanted to live, but I am different. I have the means to prevent another tragedy, and to do so, I must forgive myself.
“… Ascalon…”
I must forgive that child so that no one will cry ever again.
“ASCALON!” Lorelai’s voice brings the King suddenly lurching back to reality, and he clutches at his stomach, brow breaking into a cold sweat. “Ascalon, are you alright?”
“Y-Yes,” he stammers, cupping his helm and huffing out a sigh. “I apologize for not listening. Did you need something of me?”
She looks up at him, worry still etched in her demeanor. “You need not lie for my sake. Are you truly alright?”
He chuckles. “I am. Perhaps more than I’ve ever been.”
Lorelai nods, and in that nod is her trust felt plainly. That faith means the world to him. “Then… I leave it up to you. The Chancellor and I cannot come to an agreement, so by your word shall everything be decided. You are the King. You have the final say, so what will it be: Will you remain in the capital, or will you depart with us and lead the invasion at the forefront?”
Ascalon has always wished for a call to adventure, but he knows now he doesn’t need such a thing. From the very beginning, he should have had the confidence to express himself. To take charge of his own destiny.
“… I am sorry, Gadreel,” he says. “But I do not wish to sit idly by any longer. Can you forgive me?”
The elder sighs, but his reaction is not as vehement as Ascalon expected him to be. Instead, he smiles: a big smile, one that reaches to his eyes.
“I shall always abide by thy decision, my liege. That has not changed, and it never shall. If you wish to protect our people with thine own blade, then this old body of mine shall do everything in its power to support you.”
And so, it is Ascalon’s turn to smile. “Thank you, old friend. Truly, your words mean the world to me.”
Ascalon turns around, and he makes his way to the throne once more. He lowers himself upon the seat, hangs his head back: mind free of all worry, of all doubt, then roars out a decree the loudest his voice can muster. It surges through the room, the hall, the castle, and to the heights of the sky hanging stoically above: It echoes, and it sings—his heartbeat thundering strong.
“Heed my call!” he bellows. “Send the command to every corner of the kingdom: Rally the knights, spare not a morsel of reserves, for the decisive hour soon approaches. Ready yourselves, everyone, for the time is now to make war!”
