QuiteTheSlacker
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Chapter 23: The Wrath of Bark and Thorn
🕑 Added 2024-03-21 05:11:11 +0000 UTC“I scarcely remember my parents. Despite carrying the noble name of Power, our line was one of a fallen branch—poor, unwanted, and cast away to the distant countryside where all we called home was a dirty hovel. We were treated as dregs, thrown alongside the other outcasts, and meagerly spent our days toiling away in a nameless village. Still, we were content.
“But then the war started, and even that small grace did not last long. In those days, all one could do was look after themself; the elderly starved, and the frail were abandoned—just like Surasha and I. Reflecting back, it was inevitable I suppose. I never was one to be in good health - a scrawny, brittle husk of a boy - and Surasha was far too young to be of any use. We were forced into the woods with only the rags upon our bodies and thusly forgotten, as if we never existed to begin with.
“But I never despaired. I couldn’t, for I had my sister to protect. I didn’t care what happened to me, and no matter how bloodied my skin became, no matter how much dirt and filth I had to shove down my throat, I did everything I could to ensure she survived. Surasha was all I had left in the world. She was my sole reason for living.”
King Ascalon, Ruler of the Polus Monarchy
———
The Knight
“SOMEONE, ANYONE, STOP THIS LUNATIC!” Dariel screams with every bit of his soul. The officer’s rosy skin quickly transforms into a pale white as Annalay soars higher and higher into the sky, his frantic pleas for salvation promptly ignored, as the gale rushes past in streaks of whipping lashes. Soon, the denizens of the earth turn into but mere specks, and a mesmerizing vision of the mountains and fields beyond grace their eyes in a twinkling coat of light. The Knight quite enjoys the view, as does a squirming Aegis from above; unfortunately, Dariel does not carry the same sentiment.
“Don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this!” Annalay guffaws, slapping his back with a powerful slap. “Isn’t this just nice? The sun, the wind, and the whole world right beneath your little toes. Up here’s where true freedom is. If you want to be a Seraph like your grandfather and manifest your own wings, you better memorize this feeling quick.”
“A WARNING BEFOREHAND WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE TO HAVE!”
“Bah, where’s the fun in that? Life’s all about the unexpected. Just look at your friend over here! I bet they’re all smiles under that helm.”
“It is a pleasant feeling,” the Knight admits. Furthermore, it is unlikely the Nature’s Throne will receive any punishment for her unusual entry: such is the privilege for those in power. If it is able to bypass the lengthy inspection without fear of risking its identity, then Annalay is welcome to be as eccentric as she wishes.
Dariel stares at it with a gaze of utter betrayal, worry still evident on his face, but the futility of his protests soon becomes clear. It is a wonder indeed how quickly the human mind is able to adapt. “Stars… fine. But are you really sure we won’t get into trouble for this?”
“Of course! What, you don’t trust me?”
“No.”
“Eh, fair, but you’ll see: We’ll make it through before the guards even have a chance to react.”
“To react— does this mean you’re not supposed to…?”
Dariel’s question is answered shortly, for a gathering of winged knights suddenly descend upon them from the gargantuan wall—weapons drawn and guises burning with unamusement.
It appears the Knight is wrong.
“Ah, hells. Here we go,” she says with a sigh.
“Lady Annalay, please, you’re putting us in a very difficult position,” one of the knight guards’ asserts. “This is the third time since your return you’ve infringed upon the kingdom’s laws. Article three, section two of the Polus Constitution states that all attempts at entry other than through the main gates are—”
“Alright, stop your yapping. Are you going to let us through, or am I going to have to do this the hard way?”
The guards exchange a few wary glances, but they eventually reach a firm conclusion: Duty before all else.
“Should have figured,” Annalay groans. “Move over a bit, Dariel. I need to grab my glaive.”
“Cosmos forgive us…” Despite his grievances, the officer has resolved himself to be a part of this escapade, and so he obeys—a gleaming blur of auburn flashing past his face. Annalay points the thorned weapon at the quickly growing cluster of winged knights, but her hand never swings it forward. She remains motionless as do the others. Taut. Waiting for the first move.
“I never did get to finish that invocation at the camp…” she says aloud, breaking the silence. “Gehah, let’s make this a little more fun: In a second, I’m going to begin chanting. You louts can either let me finish, or you can attack. A fair warning in advance, I don’t take kindly to being interrupted. The choice is yours.”
Green light surges towards her blade’s edge. The energy is wild, pulsing with a ferocious intensity, and the very same words she uttered at the camp comes flowing out before her assailants can fully grasp the weight behind her declaration.
“Shifting mound of the earth’s hollow, bless upon me thy sacrament of barbs…”
Urgency spreads through their ranks in an instant - some hesitant, some in disbelief - but a few daring members of the Seraph take action and encircle Annalay before diving in from every direction. They draw closer with every breath, but still the Nature’s Throne moves not. She continues chanting as a panicking Dariel closes his eyes out of fright.
However, just before the completion of their unified assault, the Knight breaks free of Annalay’s hold and quickly unsheathes its mace, twirling around her waist and deflecting the blows all at once. The Seraph are sent reeling back, mind and body dazed from the sudden force, but they refuse to yield and turn to the offensive once more. The onlookers can only gape in awe before the strange sight as it repels each and every attack, defending against the winged onslaught with only Annalay’s body to serve as its anchor.
“Don’t worry Lady Annalay, I’ll fend them off the best I can,” it says. No one shall be allowed to impede her chant; no one shall stop it from assessing her sorcery.
A quiet, amused chuckle parts her lips and she raises her glaive high into the firmament. The invocation’s zenith is nigh. Creation squirms as a growing rumble deafens below, louder and louder, until the earth itself begins to quake in anticipation.
“…and tear through this brittle cage of soil. Rise, now. Let thy majesty ascend to the boundless nebula above.”
The rumbling comes to a still. All is silent, and then it appears. A colossal, monstrous pillar of bark and thorn erupts from the ground - unleashing a torrential rain of sludge upon the cowering masses below screaming out in confusion - while the land is quickly uprooted and the once-flowing field of green transforms into a muddle of filth. Carriages topple. Mounds upheave. The winged knights of the Seraph are left with no opportunity to react as the pillar encroaches upon them, the base splitting apart into countless branching appendages and ensnaring all unfortunate enough to be caught within the prickly grasp. The souls cry out in resistance, but it is no use. There is no escape from the earthen manifestation, and it soon descends back to the hollow with its victims—hurtling them into a viscous pile of mud before disappearing into the underground.
The view before the Knight’s eyes is one of complete, utter carnage. No stretch of land is safe from Annalay’s rampage; everything has been reduced into a desolate, barren waste. However, curiously enough, it appears the people are unharmed despite the ravenous quakes, and those unfortunate enough to have been caught within the debris are swiftly pulled out by Annalay’s brambles. Even amongst the winged Order, the worst of their woes are caring for their filth-stained wings.
“Annalay,” Dariel whispers with widening horror. “Y-You? I— what have you done? Those were innocent people you just… just…”
“I know how this looks,” she begins, cautiously eyeing the mayhem wrought by her hand below. “But I didn’t kill anyone—didn’t harm a single hair on their pretty little heads. For hells sake, I know how to control my own strength at the very least.”
“Control your own strength!?” He grits through trembling teeth while pointing at the large imprint upon the Knight’s armor. “Do we not have a victim of your so-called control right here?”
“That’s that, and this is this,” she says with complete confidence. “Although, I didn’t expect this adventure of ours to turn out so… well, messy. But I’ll deal with it later. Let’s just head over to the castle for now—”
A giant projectile of solidified, sparkling pink light hurtles toward them without a moment’s warning and smashes directly into Annalay’s side. The manifestation is shaped into a great piercing bolt - spiraling like that of a raging maelstrom - and the Nature’s Throne barely manages to block the blow at the last second before the force sends the trio tumbling through the air.
With a flap of rustling leaves, Annalay realigns herself firm - breath agasp from the attack - but is left with no hope for rest as another bolt is sent hurtling forth, then another, and another until the entire sky is filled with streaks of pink. They descend upon her in a constant, unending barrage, yet the Throne remains undaunted, dashing through the narrow gaps and letting out a guffaw of glee as she navigates the skewering rain. She laughs, Dariel screams, all the whilst the Knight ponders over the source of the attack. Hm, what strange aura: Violent, yet lacking any intention to harm. The light glares in an almost whimsical matter, as if inviting one to come frolic in play, but its power remains devastating nonetheless. Are all the marksmen of Polus such curious individuals? No, the bolts are far too similar to each other for that to be the case. This barrage is but the making of a single person—one with the strength to manifest a storm.
“GAHAHA! Now this is the excitement I’ve been looking for!” Annalay roars. The three quickly approach the summit, yet the attacks decrease not in ferocity. It matters not to the Throne - though Dariel’s terror continues to worsen - and as they finally soar above the bastion of marble, the source of the barrage finally comes into view: a female knight—great plate covered wholly in a light, blossoming pink. Her frame is no less burly than Annala, and she wields a mighty greatbow that spans the entire length of her body.
The new knight flinches as Annalay crashes near her, and she quickly jumps back out of alarm. Curiously, her hesitation appears not to be directed towards the Throne: rather, to the struggling officer now treating the solid base beneath him as if it is some sacred boon.
“D-Dariel!?” she shouts with a penetrating cadence: loud, shrill, yet with an articulation befitting that of a sheltered pedigree.
Dariel eventually steadies back onto his feet, but there is something different about him now—something dangerous. Ah, I see. That is the appearance of one ready to kill.
“Deborah,” he growls, steps thundering below as he advances upon the cowering pink knight. “Prepare thyself. Hells hath no fury like a brother enraged.”
“I-I-I didn’t know you were there!” The one called Deborah starts to back away from the rapidly approaching Dariel, but she somehow manages to trip over her own feet and lands pathetically onto her rear. “How was I supposed to know!? One moment I’m relaxing at a tavern with the other Cherubims, and the next someone comes bursting in screaming we’re under attack. I thought it was just Annalay playing around again. For Stars sake, you’re not even supposed to be here right now! Didn’t you run away to the Aeternum?”
“Surprise! I am here now. Do you have a problem with that, dear older sister of mine?”
“N-No. And don’t start speaking like grandfather! You’re the worst when you— ”
“Whatever do you mean? My speech is of the appropriate courtesy at this moment. How could I when the heavens have deigned to grant us such wonderful weather on this fine day; don’t you agree?”
“Ehm, yes?”
“Yes, it’s a beautiful day outside. Such a shame it’s being ruined by a pigheaded dolt like you!”
Dariel descends upon Deborah in a fit of rage, wrestling her to the ground as the two vie for dominance in a messy, chaotic struggle. Dariel appears to be winning.
“Lady Annalay, should we maybe do something?” the Knight asks to the very amused Throne.
“Leave it. Let’s just enjoy the show,” she says, plopping herself onto the marble and admiring the siblings’ brawl. “Besides, who doesn’t love a little family drama?”
The Knight doesn’t quite understand her strange tastes, but it complies and takes a seat as well. I didn’t expect for a person of such strength to be the kin of Dariel. Is his family not of one predisposed to administration?
“This… Deborah is Dariel’s sister, right? But I heard his grandfather is currently the Chancellor. What is she doing serving as a knight?”
“Eh, the Cherubim line has always been a bit weird—even when compared to the other damnable nobles. The matron of the family usually serves as the Templar of the Order of the Dignified Cherubim while the patron takes care of matters related to the court. They haven’t had a decent female warrior in a while, though, so that runt Deborah took up the mantle despite being so young. Hells, when I left for war she was only up to my waist! Glad to see she turned out alright; guess that old codger’s blood really does flow through her.”
“Was he that strong?”
Annalay sighs and looks up at the sky with a distant look. “Once upon a time. Gadreel was quite the intimidating warrior when he was a Throne—scary, yet firm. Powerful. I respected him a lot as a kid, but, like everyone, he grew old. Now all he does is preach about rules and traditions. I’d rather perish on the battlefield than turn out like him.”
“That is… quite the resolution.”
“Gahaha! Funny, that’s exactly what Lorelai would say. She’d put out this nervous while Celia would curse me out and call me an idiot.”
Annalay freezes and turns around to face the Knight, a curious air creeping forth from her gaze. “Wait just a moment… tall, good frame, from the Principality, has a solid punch, and is stubborn enough to withstand the miasma? Hah, I might’ve just figured it out!”
She jumps up and locks it within a tight, crushing hug without any warning. “Hells, Celia, I knew you’d somehow escape! Not even the Stars would be able to hold back a woman like you. Damn, this is great. Now all we have to do is find Lorelai and the three of us’ll be reunited again!”
Celia? An unfamiliar name. It is unfortunate I cannot draw upon the Shell’s memories, but perhaps there exists a portrait of her visage somewhere in the city. For now, I shall maintain my guise.
“I-I’m sorry, Lady Annalay, but my memories are still—”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll spring back in no time. Heh, maybe I should take advantage of this while I can…”
A dangerous look glints in her eyes. It is the look of one bordering between banter and heartfelt revenge. “Come to think of it, I never got back at you for throwing my drunken ass out on the streets, did I? The academy officers didn’t stop monitoring me for weeks because of that—couldn’t even get a good night’s rest without one of them knocking on my door. I think it’s time I settle this grudge once and for all.”
Well, this does not look good.
The Knight rushes to the quarreling siblings and snatches them between its arms faster than they can resist. It does not need even look back to feel an overpowering presence chasing closely from behind.
“W-Wha—” the two begin in unison before they’re quickly hushed.
“Deborah, you are a Seraph, correct?”
“Why—”
“Yes or no.”
“Y-Yes.”
“You can manifest wings, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because we’ll need them in a moment.”
“What do you—”
She doesn’t need to wait long, for once the Knight reaches the very edge of the walls, it jumps and dives into the capital.
“You won’t escape me that easily, Celia!” a voice roars from behind. It won’t be long before the Throne catches up to them, but her armor’s bulk should delay their capture for a brief moment.
The siblings scream out in terror as their descent quickens, but the Knight remains serene amidst the raging gale. It is rather relaxing to surrender one’s body to the elements; however, such moments inevitably last not for long.
“NOT YOU, TOO!” Dariel screeches, clinging to its side.
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON ANYMORE!” Deborah reciprocates with similar fear despite being a winged one.
“I’m sorry Deborah, but unless you want to face Annalay’s fury first hand, then I think you should start heading for the castle.”
The pink knight rebels at first, seemingly intent on maintaining her pride, but a guttural cry from Annaly quickly changes her mind. “Ok, ok! I’ll do it! Damnit, I’ll do it!”
She squirms out of the Knight’s arms and calls forth a pair of flowery wings. Tulips and peonies encompass the entire span, but the Knight has scarce a second to admire their beauty before they begin to flap with chaotic, panicked strokes.
“DAMNIT, I’LL DO IT! YOU BETTER REPAY ME FOR THIS LATER!”
And with that, the three bolt towards the castle towering proudly at the center of the city. The King awaits; soon, he shall have his audience.
