Erza just wanted to go home and eat cake, how did she end up with a Kingdom? How did this happen? And why are there massive rats everywhere?
(Fairy Tail/ Warhammer Fantasy) The Fairy Queen of Tilea
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Prologue
- Pronouns
- He
Prologue
Raffaelo Grimaldi was a man used to a hard life. A man who had seen many strange things -and more importantly- had survived them more or less intact where, in his humble opinion, quite a number of others would and indeed did perish.
From joining the ratcatchers of Miragliano after his family had cast him out, due to one of the silly affairs he had been dumb enough to center his youth around, to fighting the cursed skaven in the feces and rot covered tunels under the greatest city in all of Tliea, to his days as a servant of Myrmidia. Yes, he had seen many things. Strange things.
However, even he couldn't quite say he had ever seen a woman fall out of the sky, cloaked in a large ball of fire and crash into the earth like this before.
Raffaelo left the road, ignoring the risk of mud staining his white robes. Offering a silent prayer to Myrmidia for forgiveness, he slowed upon approaching the crater the woman left, a large one now that he was close. He hesitated some twenty paces out, remembering an incident regarding warpstone falling from the sky; a groan from inside the self made pit changed his mind. Nonetheless he felt relief that the usual wrongness in the air that signified that vile stuff was absent.
Grasping his spear a bit harder - he was not that much of a fool that he'd leave his home unarmed, even if it was just for a day's march- he peeked down the crater and well, there was the woman, and what a woman she was.
He had expected a charred corpse, maybe a halfway pulped body with limbs and organs spilled all over the impact sight. Instead there was a large mat of hair, with a hair so scarlet as if it were to mirror Myrmidia's glorious ruby main itself. Her clothes had been almost utterly destroyed, shred away by the impact and the fire, no doubt, revealing a lot of her almost scandalously opulent form, but the woman herself? She was in remarkably good condition. Sure her body was covered in bruises and he could see the signs of numerous broken bones, but all in all he had expected way worse. His womanizing days were over, but even then he couldn't deny her beauty.
And that was the first thing that triggered his paranoia, born in his days as a skaven hunter and well tended to ever since. Humans didn't survive falls like this. Especially not if they were on fire during it. And if they did, they wouldn't be getting away with just a number of flesh wounds.
Suspiciously looking around he checked the surroundings for any traps, any signs of an ambush. No signs of warpstone were his only consolation. This did not seem like skaven trickery, not that he'd know why he'd be worth such effort in the first place.
Still, the whole situation stank. If he had anything resembling a reasonable head on his shoulders he would turn around to his mule and make haste out of here, and in fact he was on his way of doing exactly that when again heard her groan.
It was a weak thing, stemming from a voice that had at one point undoubtedly been a powerful one, but it reached his ears nonetheless. It was more of a pathetic whimper really, hinting at just the agony the woman was in.
It also made it a damn sight harder to continue stomping away from the gal.
Suppressing a curse, he turned around armed with a spear and shield out as well, descending down the crater she was walking in, eyes and ears wide open to see if she made a move, ready to stab down if she revealed any hostility. Ricardo would warn him early enough with his bellows if anything tried to sneak up on them.
Coming closer to her he noticed the presence of a weapon on her body, a long bent blade that was so crusted in earth and debris that he had missed it at first. Reaching out, he pressed his spear tip against the blade and pushed it away from the still motionless redhead towards himself, just to be sure.
Keeping his weapon aimed, he pushed his shield up by its sleeves and slowly reached down, grabbing what he scarcely managed to identify as the hilt. As his fingers touched the metal his entire form froze as a sudden power struck out, rushing through him like a current and he almost fell on his rear with a yell, only managing to balance himself at the last moment when it stopped.
This thing had a power inside, of undoubtedly magical nature. He almost threw it away on reflex alone, before his senses calmed down and instead he just attached it to a belt on his hip, before reaching down for the woman proper.
He didn't know what he quite expected when he heaved her up. That she'd grow horns, fangs and bite him maybe? He had been ready to damn his conscience and just stab her at her first movement but no such thing did happen. She let out a couple more groans and whimpers as he checked her other side for wounds -bruises, scrapes and a lot of broken bones by the look and feel of it- and did nothing otherwise.
She was conscious, barely. Raffaelo debated with himself to risk taking her with him, or just interrogating her here. But her groans told him she may not have much time.
With unease and more effort than he wanted to admit he hooked his arms under hers and pulled, wincing when he heard her gasps of pain as well as sounds of her cracking bones, no doubt a good manner of them not being in their right places. He hoped she would hang in long enough for him to build a makeshift stretcher.
A hope that ran ever thinner as he carefully moved her out of the crater. She most definitely had some internal injuries, so just putting her on Ricardo to his home wasn't an option, and he hardly had the materials necessary to help her here. He'd need a stretcher to move her and he hardly had one at the ready, thus he would need to make something himself. He did have ropes and leather from his trip to the nearby market, but he needed to search for sticks to make one still. That would take time, time this woman did not have.
It would take a miracle for her to reach his home alive and luckily he might just be able to provide one for her.
Myrmidia was usually more of a war god -even if limiting her to just that was utter folly- but it might just be possible that she would lend her grace and might to something more than to just smite her enemies, and to strengthen her children's shields and spears. As such, he began to pray. Myrmidia would answer if she was worthy of her attention.
"Oh Myrmidia, lend this lowly servant of yours to the power to be a medium for your greatness, for your might to save this woman from her blight, oh grand eagle of Tilea…." As he prayed he felt it; first a flicker and drop that quickly turned into a stream like a raging river. His hands, moving as if they had a will of their own, travelled over her form from head to toe, pressing the strength out of him like if he was in a vice.
As it did however, he could feel, no, he could see how a miracle began to manifest in front of his very eyes. Bones righted themselves, came again together under hideous sounds. Undoubtedly a great many internal wounds were undone as her pained breathing easened and the entire red head seemed to straighten herself a little, even within her state of being between consciousness and unconsciousness.
After what felt like an eternity he slumped back, exhausted like he had just spent a day chopping wood. Nonetheless his decision had been the correct one. Apparently Myrmidia did consider this woman, whoever she was, to be worthy.
Well then. That made the decision for him, didn´t it? With a groan he hefted her up and carried her over to Ricardo, the mule sniffing at her for a moment while he tried to make place on his saddle, moving around the food he bought so recently.
She didn't look like she was going to wake up anytime soon, which was a blessing and a curse; the latter because keeping an unconscious someone on a mule in motion was at best a challenge, but at least she wouldn't be moving around on her own and potentially worsen her condition. Putting the sack of food (largely bread, some meat and wine and even some vegetables) aside, he carefully lifted her on the mule before starting to loosely tie her waist to a saddle strap, using what rope he had. Ricardo bayed at the extra load, but thankfully didn't stop him.
He had wasted enough time already, it was time to get back home. He had some medicine there that should be able to help her further, even if that was going to be pretty expensive.
AN:
So, this idea didn´t want to leave my head. Hope you guys enjoy this.
Credit goes to @Hapless Anon for being a great Beta and an even greater friend
Raffaelo Grimaldi was a man used to a hard life. A man who had seen many strange things -and more importantly- had survived them more or less intact where, in his humble opinion, quite a number of others would and indeed did perish.
From joining the ratcatchers of Miragliano after his family had cast him out, due to one of the silly affairs he had been dumb enough to center his youth around, to fighting the cursed skaven in the feces and rot covered tunels under the greatest city in all of Tliea, to his days as a servant of Myrmidia. Yes, he had seen many things. Strange things.
However, even he couldn't quite say he had ever seen a woman fall out of the sky, cloaked in a large ball of fire and crash into the earth like this before.
Raffaelo left the road, ignoring the risk of mud staining his white robes. Offering a silent prayer to Myrmidia for forgiveness, he slowed upon approaching the crater the woman left, a large one now that he was close. He hesitated some twenty paces out, remembering an incident regarding warpstone falling from the sky; a groan from inside the self made pit changed his mind. Nonetheless he felt relief that the usual wrongness in the air that signified that vile stuff was absent.
Grasping his spear a bit harder - he was not that much of a fool that he'd leave his home unarmed, even if it was just for a day's march- he peeked down the crater and well, there was the woman, and what a woman she was.
He had expected a charred corpse, maybe a halfway pulped body with limbs and organs spilled all over the impact sight. Instead there was a large mat of hair, with a hair so scarlet as if it were to mirror Myrmidia's glorious ruby main itself. Her clothes had been almost utterly destroyed, shred away by the impact and the fire, no doubt, revealing a lot of her almost scandalously opulent form, but the woman herself? She was in remarkably good condition. Sure her body was covered in bruises and he could see the signs of numerous broken bones, but all in all he had expected way worse. His womanizing days were over, but even then he couldn't deny her beauty.
And that was the first thing that triggered his paranoia, born in his days as a skaven hunter and well tended to ever since. Humans didn't survive falls like this. Especially not if they were on fire during it. And if they did, they wouldn't be getting away with just a number of flesh wounds.
Suspiciously looking around he checked the surroundings for any traps, any signs of an ambush. No signs of warpstone were his only consolation. This did not seem like skaven trickery, not that he'd know why he'd be worth such effort in the first place.
Still, the whole situation stank. If he had anything resembling a reasonable head on his shoulders he would turn around to his mule and make haste out of here, and in fact he was on his way of doing exactly that when again heard her groan.
It was a weak thing, stemming from a voice that had at one point undoubtedly been a powerful one, but it reached his ears nonetheless. It was more of a pathetic whimper really, hinting at just the agony the woman was in.
It also made it a damn sight harder to continue stomping away from the gal.
Suppressing a curse, he turned around armed with a spear and shield out as well, descending down the crater she was walking in, eyes and ears wide open to see if she made a move, ready to stab down if she revealed any hostility. Ricardo would warn him early enough with his bellows if anything tried to sneak up on them.
Coming closer to her he noticed the presence of a weapon on her body, a long bent blade that was so crusted in earth and debris that he had missed it at first. Reaching out, he pressed his spear tip against the blade and pushed it away from the still motionless redhead towards himself, just to be sure.
Keeping his weapon aimed, he pushed his shield up by its sleeves and slowly reached down, grabbing what he scarcely managed to identify as the hilt. As his fingers touched the metal his entire form froze as a sudden power struck out, rushing through him like a current and he almost fell on his rear with a yell, only managing to balance himself at the last moment when it stopped.
This thing had a power inside, of undoubtedly magical nature. He almost threw it away on reflex alone, before his senses calmed down and instead he just attached it to a belt on his hip, before reaching down for the woman proper.
He didn't know what he quite expected when he heaved her up. That she'd grow horns, fangs and bite him maybe? He had been ready to damn his conscience and just stab her at her first movement but no such thing did happen. She let out a couple more groans and whimpers as he checked her other side for wounds -bruises, scrapes and a lot of broken bones by the look and feel of it- and did nothing otherwise.
She was conscious, barely. Raffaelo debated with himself to risk taking her with him, or just interrogating her here. But her groans told him she may not have much time.
With unease and more effort than he wanted to admit he hooked his arms under hers and pulled, wincing when he heard her gasps of pain as well as sounds of her cracking bones, no doubt a good manner of them not being in their right places. He hoped she would hang in long enough for him to build a makeshift stretcher.
A hope that ran ever thinner as he carefully moved her out of the crater. She most definitely had some internal injuries, so just putting her on Ricardo to his home wasn't an option, and he hardly had the materials necessary to help her here. He'd need a stretcher to move her and he hardly had one at the ready, thus he would need to make something himself. He did have ropes and leather from his trip to the nearby market, but he needed to search for sticks to make one still. That would take time, time this woman did not have.
It would take a miracle for her to reach his home alive and luckily he might just be able to provide one for her.
Myrmidia was usually more of a war god -even if limiting her to just that was utter folly- but it might just be possible that she would lend her grace and might to something more than to just smite her enemies, and to strengthen her children's shields and spears. As such, he began to pray. Myrmidia would answer if she was worthy of her attention.
"Oh Myrmidia, lend this lowly servant of yours to the power to be a medium for your greatness, for your might to save this woman from her blight, oh grand eagle of Tilea…." As he prayed he felt it; first a flicker and drop that quickly turned into a stream like a raging river. His hands, moving as if they had a will of their own, travelled over her form from head to toe, pressing the strength out of him like if he was in a vice.
As it did however, he could feel, no, he could see how a miracle began to manifest in front of his very eyes. Bones righted themselves, came again together under hideous sounds. Undoubtedly a great many internal wounds were undone as her pained breathing easened and the entire red head seemed to straighten herself a little, even within her state of being between consciousness and unconsciousness.
After what felt like an eternity he slumped back, exhausted like he had just spent a day chopping wood. Nonetheless his decision had been the correct one. Apparently Myrmidia did consider this woman, whoever she was, to be worthy.
Well then. That made the decision for him, didn´t it? With a groan he hefted her up and carried her over to Ricardo, the mule sniffing at her for a moment while he tried to make place on his saddle, moving around the food he bought so recently.
She didn't look like she was going to wake up anytime soon, which was a blessing and a curse; the latter because keeping an unconscious someone on a mule in motion was at best a challenge, but at least she wouldn't be moving around on her own and potentially worsen her condition. Putting the sack of food (largely bread, some meat and wine and even some vegetables) aside, he carefully lifted her on the mule before starting to loosely tie her waist to a saddle strap, using what rope he had. Ricardo bayed at the extra load, but thankfully didn't stop him.
He had wasted enough time already, it was time to get back home. He had some medicine there that should be able to help her further, even if that was going to be pretty expensive.
AN:
So, this idea didn´t want to leave my head. Hope you guys enjoy this.
Credit goes to @Hapless Anon for being a great Beta and an even greater friend
Last edited:
Chapter 1
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 1
Erza Scarlet, 7th guildmaster of Fairy Tail, S Class wizard was undoubtedly one of the strongest mages Fiore had to offer. She had completed hundreds of dangerous missions and beaten just as many dangerous foes, sometimes along the goals of those missions, and even more often in the defence of her guild, her friends and family. She had fought dark mages, wizard saints, legions of monsters, demons and even dragons. She was widely revered as Titania, the queen of Fairies, a walking legend. Not many of the people who saw her in that light could imagine her having bad dreams.
And yet Erza was no stranger to nightmares. She had had many as a child. Both when she was young and afterwards, about her time as a slave and about Jellal's treachery. Her time in the guild had taken care of that, and she had been able to sleep peacefully for a whole long while. Her nightmares really only started again after Kyoka; the pain, naked and defenceless in that cold, cold cell, alone with the demon.
This nightmare was unlike those however. She found herself overlooking a vast and great city. A great festival was being arranged with people all around her, maybe some great event had taken place? She talked to them but she could not understand what they were saying or even what she herself was saying. The language used was strange. Melodic but much more fluid than what she was used to. Almost like something one would hear in a song.
The people were all wearing strange uniforms and armor, equipment she hasn't seen in a long while. It was mostly spears, shields and swords but barely any mages as far as she could tell. Situated on a horse, Erza beheld an orderly formation around her, what she evidently was leading from the front; pikes in front, archers hanging back, marching not in cadence but still operating like clockwork. Above her the sky was cloudy, as if threatening rain. Without knowing how she knew it wouldn't.
But when Erza peered ahead, she almost wished it was.
A short distance away was their foe, and what a bizarre enemy it was. A dark, chittering horde of monsters had gathered on the plain, easily outnumbering her forces several times over. Through the haze of the dream she detected a terrible stench, something made of feces and rotting meat, as if it were spoiled food that was set on by vermin. Here and there taller things stood over the creatures, some were ramshackle constructs, others were towering, misshapen abominations that shook and snarled in anticipation.
One of her men raised a sword to bellow something in that musical tongue, an unmistakable war cry. Around Erza the army matched his shout, a combined roar that shook her in her boots.
The creatures reacted, with the front ranks snarling and… squeaking? Erza blinked in astonishment; the monsters were rats. Huge rats, many no taller than children with how they hunched, clutching crude rusty weapons in a formation that was a mockery of her army, held together by overseers prowling their ranks. As she watched one went so far as to whip an underling where it stood, only resulting in its comrades chittering with laughter.
Erza was stunned; just what was going on? She wondered as she raised a sword, catching her army's attention with a shout in their language, not understanding the words she screamed but recognizing what she said. A cry to arms, to hold fast, and with a jab forward, kicking the stirrups to send her horse galloping at the monsters, to attack.
Erza was joined by more horsemen, taking her flanks as she led the charge. She felt uneasy breaking ranks like this, but there was a simmering range in the men, outright glaring at the creatures as they charged; there was a history between them, one she had every reason to suspect was soaked in blood.
Musing could wait however, for the front ranks of the monsters charged as well. The first wave were far more scrawny and abused than the ones behind them, clearly fodder. Expendable, based on the archers and gunners she saw behind them, only kept from shredding her cavalry charge by her own army sending a rain of arrows into them.
The distance shrank incredibly quickly. Spears lowered to impale the creatures, colliding with a tremendous crash of screams and bellowing horses. Steel crashed against flesh, men and monster cried out in pain, her own horse snarled as she swept her sword at a rat-
Erza climbed onto the rock, sword and shield in hand. She hurt so much, her remaining eye blurry from tears, but she ignored it. She stood tall, beaten, exhausted, no longer giving into the fear. With a cry she rallied the slaves, charging into the Zeref cultists-
-and Erza carved through it. Why, how was she remembering the tower of heaven now? In this state she found herself glad for the first time, that while she was reliving memories her body wasn't distracted. She hacked at rats, extolling her men to fight harder while the rest of the army collided behind her. Some fell immediately, some died from painful wounds. Not one ran from the fight.
Erza brought her horse around, calling for the troops to rally to her. As before they lacked discipline but not bravery, various men carving through whatever the rats had to offer, no matter the cost. She wasn't slacking either, her sword coated in sickly red blood.
Her horse unexpectedly reared back, neighing in alarm it hadn't displayed so far. Erza had the impression this other shared her confusion, peering around to find what was making the ground shake. She looked, and grimaced; stomping towards her gathering forces was a troupe of bizarre abominations, hunched creatures three or four times the height of their smaller brethren. Even looking at the rat-like giants brought revulsion, their bulging muscles looking as if their flesh was about to split apart, clutching crude clubs as they charged. Before her eyes she saw the lead ones smash aside rats, uncaring that they were killing their allies.
She felt no fear. Erza dismounted her horse, waving off her men trying to hold her back. All she did was march towards the rat giants, sword in hand and an intelligible insult on her lips. The lead one raised its club with a roar, swinging at her-
"Get the civilians out of here!" Erza bellowed at the other wizards, ones who had no business being here. She flew into the fray without waiting on them, hating that she couldn't put these things down immediately.
But then, dragons wouldn't be so feared, would they?
The green dragon launched a massive gout of flame at local homes, incinerating the houses in a blaze of azure fire. Forcing herself to keep from asking how many people were left, Erza swooped in to land a blow on its horned head; her most powerful swords merely dinged off its scaly hide.
She wasn't going to win against the beast. She didn't plan to; the dragon turned to look at her with its slitted eyes, showing mild annoyance at her attack. It let out a tremendous roar that shook her to the bone, turning to inhale for another breath attack. Only to have bolts of lightning and flame slam on its belly, catching it off guard.
-it fell to the mud, the rat's head hitting the ground a moment later. Erza rolled around the next blow, evading the jagged club to launch herself at the creature. One good stab lodged in its meaty neck, severing a valuable artery as she hurriedly yanked her blade free. Her foe gurgled out a bellow, sounding more puzzled than hurt as its lifeblood gushed out, the fluid smelling downright repulsive.
One, two, three, four. Rat giants fell one after the other, claiming a man's life who tried to help her, but falling all the same. As she rose from the cleaved chest of the last rat, she took stock of the ongoing battle.
Things appeared to be going in her army's favor. She saw plenty of human bodies littering the muddy field, but far more rats; their overwhelming quantity clearly not covering for their dreadful quality. The monsters were being pushed back, cut down where they stood, or ran as she noted with interest. Nearby she saw one rat pack turn to flee, some dropping weapons, a few even attacking their fellows in their frantic attempt to escape. Not that it saved them from the screaming soldiers who fell on them with swords flashing, slaying them before they could escape.
Erza rose from her stance, observing the battle start to end. She had the impression it hadn't taken long to win, and while she lost a number of men, that was obvious just by glancing at the corpse strewn field, she had won a solid victory on this day. Or rather this other had.
"And so shall you." Her lips spoke in an understandable way for the first time.
Erza paused, finding she had control over her body now. Save for the mouth, which acted on its own at an arbitrary time.
"Who, who are you?" Erza asked carefully, sparing a glance at the men around her. None seemed to have noticed her newfound madness, they marched off to either pursue the rat's pitiful retreat, or to tend to their wounded.
Her lips curled in a smile. "After my death, I was declared Myrmidia. The goddess of strategy and war."
For a moment Erza didn't react, feeling a grin that wasn't hers. A goddess? But, how?
"The rules here are different, as you can see." Myrmidia explained. "When I found you thanks to my follower's prayer, I knew I had to have you. You've shown me much, Erza Scarlet of Fairy Tail."
"What do you want?"
"You. Nothing more, nothing less." Myrmidia smiled.
"For what?"
"Use your eyes Erza. You know what you must do." Around her the battle faded into nothingness, replaced by darkness that swallowed her.
Erza awoke. She was bathed in a cold sweat, inhaling sharply from an adrenaline spike. As she took deep breaths the anxious feeling receded, her nerves slowly calming. She was worked up over…
That's right, she had a bad dream. What was it about, she… she didn't remember. There was a battle for sure, something, or someone, spoke to her. What had it been again? She didn´t have much time to ponder as something moved just outside of her field of vision.
"Ah, so you are finally awake."
AN:
And here, after a longer time period than i had hoped is the first chapter.
Hope you like it. Credit goes to @Hapless Anon for helping at writing this
Erza Scarlet, 7th guildmaster of Fairy Tail, S Class wizard was undoubtedly one of the strongest mages Fiore had to offer. She had completed hundreds of dangerous missions and beaten just as many dangerous foes, sometimes along the goals of those missions, and even more often in the defence of her guild, her friends and family. She had fought dark mages, wizard saints, legions of monsters, demons and even dragons. She was widely revered as Titania, the queen of Fairies, a walking legend. Not many of the people who saw her in that light could imagine her having bad dreams.
And yet Erza was no stranger to nightmares. She had had many as a child. Both when she was young and afterwards, about her time as a slave and about Jellal's treachery. Her time in the guild had taken care of that, and she had been able to sleep peacefully for a whole long while. Her nightmares really only started again after Kyoka; the pain, naked and defenceless in that cold, cold cell, alone with the demon.
This nightmare was unlike those however. She found herself overlooking a vast and great city. A great festival was being arranged with people all around her, maybe some great event had taken place? She talked to them but she could not understand what they were saying or even what she herself was saying. The language used was strange. Melodic but much more fluid than what she was used to. Almost like something one would hear in a song.
The people were all wearing strange uniforms and armor, equipment she hasn't seen in a long while. It was mostly spears, shields and swords but barely any mages as far as she could tell. Situated on a horse, Erza beheld an orderly formation around her, what she evidently was leading from the front; pikes in front, archers hanging back, marching not in cadence but still operating like clockwork. Above her the sky was cloudy, as if threatening rain. Without knowing how she knew it wouldn't.
But when Erza peered ahead, she almost wished it was.
A short distance away was their foe, and what a bizarre enemy it was. A dark, chittering horde of monsters had gathered on the plain, easily outnumbering her forces several times over. Through the haze of the dream she detected a terrible stench, something made of feces and rotting meat, as if it were spoiled food that was set on by vermin. Here and there taller things stood over the creatures, some were ramshackle constructs, others were towering, misshapen abominations that shook and snarled in anticipation.
One of her men raised a sword to bellow something in that musical tongue, an unmistakable war cry. Around Erza the army matched his shout, a combined roar that shook her in her boots.
The creatures reacted, with the front ranks snarling and… squeaking? Erza blinked in astonishment; the monsters were rats. Huge rats, many no taller than children with how they hunched, clutching crude rusty weapons in a formation that was a mockery of her army, held together by overseers prowling their ranks. As she watched one went so far as to whip an underling where it stood, only resulting in its comrades chittering with laughter.
Erza was stunned; just what was going on? She wondered as she raised a sword, catching her army's attention with a shout in their language, not understanding the words she screamed but recognizing what she said. A cry to arms, to hold fast, and with a jab forward, kicking the stirrups to send her horse galloping at the monsters, to attack.
Erza was joined by more horsemen, taking her flanks as she led the charge. She felt uneasy breaking ranks like this, but there was a simmering range in the men, outright glaring at the creatures as they charged; there was a history between them, one she had every reason to suspect was soaked in blood.
Musing could wait however, for the front ranks of the monsters charged as well. The first wave were far more scrawny and abused than the ones behind them, clearly fodder. Expendable, based on the archers and gunners she saw behind them, only kept from shredding her cavalry charge by her own army sending a rain of arrows into them.
The distance shrank incredibly quickly. Spears lowered to impale the creatures, colliding with a tremendous crash of screams and bellowing horses. Steel crashed against flesh, men and monster cried out in pain, her own horse snarled as she swept her sword at a rat-
Erza climbed onto the rock, sword and shield in hand. She hurt so much, her remaining eye blurry from tears, but she ignored it. She stood tall, beaten, exhausted, no longer giving into the fear. With a cry she rallied the slaves, charging into the Zeref cultists-
-and Erza carved through it. Why, how was she remembering the tower of heaven now? In this state she found herself glad for the first time, that while she was reliving memories her body wasn't distracted. She hacked at rats, extolling her men to fight harder while the rest of the army collided behind her. Some fell immediately, some died from painful wounds. Not one ran from the fight.
Erza brought her horse around, calling for the troops to rally to her. As before they lacked discipline but not bravery, various men carving through whatever the rats had to offer, no matter the cost. She wasn't slacking either, her sword coated in sickly red blood.
Her horse unexpectedly reared back, neighing in alarm it hadn't displayed so far. Erza had the impression this other shared her confusion, peering around to find what was making the ground shake. She looked, and grimaced; stomping towards her gathering forces was a troupe of bizarre abominations, hunched creatures three or four times the height of their smaller brethren. Even looking at the rat-like giants brought revulsion, their bulging muscles looking as if their flesh was about to split apart, clutching crude clubs as they charged. Before her eyes she saw the lead ones smash aside rats, uncaring that they were killing their allies.
She felt no fear. Erza dismounted her horse, waving off her men trying to hold her back. All she did was march towards the rat giants, sword in hand and an intelligible insult on her lips. The lead one raised its club with a roar, swinging at her-
"Get the civilians out of here!" Erza bellowed at the other wizards, ones who had no business being here. She flew into the fray without waiting on them, hating that she couldn't put these things down immediately.
But then, dragons wouldn't be so feared, would they?
The green dragon launched a massive gout of flame at local homes, incinerating the houses in a blaze of azure fire. Forcing herself to keep from asking how many people were left, Erza swooped in to land a blow on its horned head; her most powerful swords merely dinged off its scaly hide.
She wasn't going to win against the beast. She didn't plan to; the dragon turned to look at her with its slitted eyes, showing mild annoyance at her attack. It let out a tremendous roar that shook her to the bone, turning to inhale for another breath attack. Only to have bolts of lightning and flame slam on its belly, catching it off guard.
-it fell to the mud, the rat's head hitting the ground a moment later. Erza rolled around the next blow, evading the jagged club to launch herself at the creature. One good stab lodged in its meaty neck, severing a valuable artery as she hurriedly yanked her blade free. Her foe gurgled out a bellow, sounding more puzzled than hurt as its lifeblood gushed out, the fluid smelling downright repulsive.
One, two, three, four. Rat giants fell one after the other, claiming a man's life who tried to help her, but falling all the same. As she rose from the cleaved chest of the last rat, she took stock of the ongoing battle.
Things appeared to be going in her army's favor. She saw plenty of human bodies littering the muddy field, but far more rats; their overwhelming quantity clearly not covering for their dreadful quality. The monsters were being pushed back, cut down where they stood, or ran as she noted with interest. Nearby she saw one rat pack turn to flee, some dropping weapons, a few even attacking their fellows in their frantic attempt to escape. Not that it saved them from the screaming soldiers who fell on them with swords flashing, slaying them before they could escape.
Erza rose from her stance, observing the battle start to end. She had the impression it hadn't taken long to win, and while she lost a number of men, that was obvious just by glancing at the corpse strewn field, she had won a solid victory on this day. Or rather this other had.
"And so shall you." Her lips spoke in an understandable way for the first time.
Erza paused, finding she had control over her body now. Save for the mouth, which acted on its own at an arbitrary time.
"Who, who are you?" Erza asked carefully, sparing a glance at the men around her. None seemed to have noticed her newfound madness, they marched off to either pursue the rat's pitiful retreat, or to tend to their wounded.
Her lips curled in a smile. "After my death, I was declared Myrmidia. The goddess of strategy and war."
For a moment Erza didn't react, feeling a grin that wasn't hers. A goddess? But, how?
"The rules here are different, as you can see." Myrmidia explained. "When I found you thanks to my follower's prayer, I knew I had to have you. You've shown me much, Erza Scarlet of Fairy Tail."
"What do you want?"
"You. Nothing more, nothing less." Myrmidia smiled.
"For what?"
"Use your eyes Erza. You know what you must do." Around her the battle faded into nothingness, replaced by darkness that swallowed her.
Erza awoke. She was bathed in a cold sweat, inhaling sharply from an adrenaline spike. As she took deep breaths the anxious feeling receded, her nerves slowly calming. She was worked up over…
That's right, she had a bad dream. What was it about, she… she didn't remember. There was a battle for sure, something, or someone, spoke to her. What had it been again? She didn´t have much time to ponder as something moved just outside of her field of vision.
"Ah, so you are finally awake."
AN:
And here, after a longer time period than i had hoped is the first chapter.
Hope you like it. Credit goes to @Hapless Anon for helping at writing this
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Chapter 2
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 2
The first thing Erza noticed when she woke up was that her head hurt. It felt like a hundred vulcans were taking turns in pounding her cranium into dust. In fact, forget her head, pretty much every inch of her body felt that way. Every thought felt like a dagger was stabbed her, she didn't want to imagine how it would feel if she opened her eyes and let the light in.
She probingly opened a sliver of her eyelids and slammed them shut immediately. Yep, the light hurt. Gods, it was almost like when she had a drink out with the girls. If that was the reason why she had such a headache then Erza just hoped she didn't make such a mess again, last time Lucy had not looked her in the eyes for weeks.
Till now though, she did not understand why. She had just undressed her and massaged some hot wax on her back, then made her do some exotic dancing. Nothing worth her getting so weird about it.
Teeth gritted, Erza forced herself to sit up without opening her eyes yet. That simple effort took two tries, her spine and organs protesting moving at all. But she wasn't a quitter, so with a loud gasp she finally found herself upright, feeling dizzy from moving too fast. Each breath felt like needles were poking her lungs. Moving even a little had her limbs aching horribly. But she could move.
Erza was starting to suspect she wasn't waking up from a hangover. This time when she opened her eyes went like the last attempt, but she fought through it, groaning as she took in the world around herself. Everything was a weird mess of shrill yellow, brown, green and gray with some specks of black mixed in. Just trying to look around made her feel dizzy on top of her growing cranial pain, causing her to fall back on her bed, while trying fruitlessly to get her eyes used to the surroundings.
That was when she realized two things. One this wasn´t her bed -being hard and rough instead of the wonderful softness she was used to- and two, she was completely naked.
"Huh, that's odd." She croaked, surprised at how scratchy her throat felt. She thought she'd remember being in full armor before, so what happened to her outfit? Surely she didn't strip herself, so how…
Erza shook her head. That was for later. For now she blinked the spots out of her vision, so she could find out who's bed she was in. This one definitely wasn't hers.
Her vision cleared, bringing the room into focus. Around her was a bedroom, one she didn't recognize; it was smaller than her own, with the bed taking up a lot of the available space. Dimming orange light streamed from a small window. A large drawer was the other thing in her sight, a plain wooden thing topped by a weird little shrine she never saw before: there were a couple daggers forming a little tent around a woman's statue, a warrior she assumed based on the armor and outstretched sword.
There was more in the room beside that, like the shelves over the door holding knickknacks. Things like odd looking stones, several kinds of knives, pendants and sigils, and over the door a spear in good condition. But that shrine kept her attention. It wasn't any god or demon she recognized, what could she be?
Shuffling on the floor had Erza draw back, regretting it instantly when a wave of needly aches slammed into her. She hadn't entirely fought off the nausea when a mass of blankets she overlooked was flopped to the side, and a man rose with a groan. He had a sun baked complexion, dark haired and decently handsome, at the moment wearing a plain nightgown.
The man turned to her and opened his mouth, but immediately whipped around with red blooming on his cheeks. "Um, my lady. You're, uh, awake."
"I am." Erza agreed, relieved that she could understand him. "Who are you, and where am I?"
"I, erm, I am Raffaelo Grimaldi. I am a, uh, a priest. I… can you please cover yourself?" He strained out, covering his eyes.
"Why? Is there something wrong?" Erza peered at her body: everything looked to be in the right place.
He coughed. "You're, uh, naked."
"I know. Do you know where my armor went? I seemed to have misplaced it." She looked around again for her gear, finding nothing.
"Your armor, ah, was ruined. I had… had to peel it off. When I brought you to my home." He said the last part quickly.
"Ruined? How?" Erza leaned closer in spite of a stab of pain in her gut. Somehow he sensed her presence well enough to space himself an equal distance.
"You fell? From the sky." His throat bobbed, and next he spoke he pleaded. "Please, at least use the sheet."
With a huff, Erza yanked up the blanket to her collarbone, grunting an affirmative note. The man, Raffaelo, hesitatingly opened his hand, and when he saw her he dropped the limb with relief.
"Thank you. I am sorry for not giving you one of my nightgowns, but I had to dress your wounds." He still blushed.
"Wounds? You helped me?" Erza felt her suspicions subside. She didn't trust him whatsoever, but she felt he wasn't holding her captive.
Raffaelo nodded fast. "Three days ago you fell from the sky on my way home, you left a huge crater by the road. You didn't look like you were going to live, miss…"
"Erza Scarlet, of Fairy Tail. I thank you for helping me Mister Grimaldi." She gave a perfunctory bow that forced her breath out, but frowned for more than just pain. She didn't remember fighting anything tough enough to lay her out this badly, not recently. What had she gone up against to cause this?
Raffaelo cleared his throat and stood up fully, moving to the door. "I'll go fetch you something. Do you want food or water? You must be famished."
"Some water please." Erza nodded, watching him leave. When the door closed (without a latch she noticed), she flung the sheet aside and grimaced, swinging her legs to the bedside. Needles and creaks strong enough to make her wince followed every move, yet she pressed on.
Standing up was so simple, yet took so much effort. Erza wasn't sure if she actually could, but she had to try; with a gasp her feet landed on the wood floor, growing worse the more weight she put on them. That was bad, which led to problem two: her balance was gone. Picking up her head left Erza woozy, her feet felt as if they would slip out from under her. She had to grab the frame to stabilize herself, teeth gritted from strain.
Upon finally standing up, free from the bed's embrace, Erza felt like pumping a fist in victory. But if she did she would find herself hitting the floor in no time, forcing herself to wait until she was steadied first. A minute of listening to birds outside and Raffaelo opening cupboards nearby passed before she felt ready enough.
Light engulfed her body, Requip magic doing what it was supposed to. Only this time it was slower, more effort intensive than she was accustomed to. Like she was wading through water instead of air. That gave her pause when the light dispersed, just in time for Raffaelo to open the door.
"Miss Scarlet, you shouldn't…" he paused, a platter of bread and a cup in hand shaking a little when she met his confused gaze. He had put on some plain white robes and combed his hair, making himself presentable.
"Oh, this. My requip magic." Erza explained, flinching in pain when she tried to tap her breastplate.
"I'm sorry, requip 'magic?'" He repeated dumbfoundedly.
Grunting from effort, Erza managed to cross the room in a semi dignified stagger so she could snatch the mug first. She needed water more than food, though her stomach growled. After draining it in one gulp she nodded.
"Yes, I'm a wizard." She explained.
While in some places wizards were thin on the ground, generally very few people she ever met were ignorant of magic. It may not have been common, but to one extent or another everyone knew something about wizards.
So when Raffaelo took a step back with visible fear, Erza felt confusion. "You're, you are a wizard? But…"
"I understand if you never personally met one before today. But I'm no more dangerous than any other." She downplayed it; boasting of her strength could come later, when she could back up her words.
"You can't be. You're, uh, I don't know of any magic like that. It's nothing like the simple spells I know." He looked as dumbfounded as she suddenly felt.
"If you can cast spells, then you are a wizard too." Erza raised a brow when she shook his head.
"No, I am not a mage. My abilities aren't due to wild magic, I can only use what the blessed lady Myrmidia has bestowed upon me." He raised his hands non threateningly, a glow forming in his palms as he whispered something under his breath. He held out the glow to her without stopping, and when it touched Erza her many aches faded away. But only for that part, the rest of her body still felt like something chewed her up and spat her out.
Erza raised a brow when he stopped, finishing his mumbling to tip his head; he did say he was a priest, but this definitely wasn't like the kind she was used to. And the goddess he mentioned…
"Mister, or should I say Father Grimaldi." Only now was it dawning on her that something about this house felt off to her. The place was rustic, but that didn't add up to the other things he mentioned. "Who is Myrmidia?"
"You don't know?" Raffaelo's brow raised. "Lady Myrmidia is one of the gods of this land. She guides us in our lives, teaches us to live honorably and justly. To those who beseech her aid for a noble cause, she is willing to help."
"And… What are these lands? I fear I may be a long way from home." A pit in her stomach formed, growing heavier no matter how much she quashed the feeling.
"Here? We are near the city of Magrilano. It is a few hours walk away, but I undertake the journey without complaint. Where are you from?" Raffaelo asked, still looking uneasy and confused.
"The Kingdom of Fiore, Magnolia specifically. Do you know of it?" Erza dearly hoped the answer was yes, as she didn't recognize the names he gave her.
"I… no." He shook his head, inadvertently giving strength to her stomach pit.
Clearing her throat, Erza took a wincing step back. "I apologize, I need to step outside for a moment."
"I, ah, very well." Raffaelo frowned, leading her into a quaint yet definitely rustic home. It wasn't a large one, so they didn't go far to a thick wooden door. He swung it open for her, and Erza was through before he could protest.
One step, then two. Erza paused, taking in a scenic plain that possessed a few rolling hills topped by trees, lacking signs of habitation aside from a few unpaved roads, with warm weather that felt more like southerly lands. The sunset bathed the whole landscape in a pleasant orange glow. Definitely not Fiore.
A sharp gasp whipped her around, ignoring the stabbing pain everywhere to see why Raffaelo was alarmed. Only to be confused by him staring into the sky, visibly horrified; under his breath he whispered more of what she presumed was prayer. Following his gaze, her own throat clenched.
There were two moons in the sky. One was smaller than the real one, thin and wispy as daytime moons usually were, hugging the horizon opposite of the departing sun. But the other: not only was it larger than its brother, it was also a sickly green, the patterns on the surface making her skin crawl. It was bright enough that she strongly suspected it was emitting its own light.
Without meaning to she unclenched her jaw, feeling revulsion that wasn't due to her injuries. It looked like a sore on the sky, made worse by it going straight up instead of following the other, as if it were trying to take over the sun's territory now that it was leaving.
"Blessed Myrmidia, Morrslieb is out before the night. That, that's never happened before." Raffaelo muttered in terror. "This is a bad omen, oh it is a bad omen."
Erza swallowed a lump. "I don't think I'm in Earthland anymore."
The first thing Erza noticed when she woke up was that her head hurt. It felt like a hundred vulcans were taking turns in pounding her cranium into dust. In fact, forget her head, pretty much every inch of her body felt that way. Every thought felt like a dagger was stabbed her, she didn't want to imagine how it would feel if she opened her eyes and let the light in.
She probingly opened a sliver of her eyelids and slammed them shut immediately. Yep, the light hurt. Gods, it was almost like when she had a drink out with the girls. If that was the reason why she had such a headache then Erza just hoped she didn't make such a mess again, last time Lucy had not looked her in the eyes for weeks.
Till now though, she did not understand why. She had just undressed her and massaged some hot wax on her back, then made her do some exotic dancing. Nothing worth her getting so weird about it.
Teeth gritted, Erza forced herself to sit up without opening her eyes yet. That simple effort took two tries, her spine and organs protesting moving at all. But she wasn't a quitter, so with a loud gasp she finally found herself upright, feeling dizzy from moving too fast. Each breath felt like needles were poking her lungs. Moving even a little had her limbs aching horribly. But she could move.
Erza was starting to suspect she wasn't waking up from a hangover. This time when she opened her eyes went like the last attempt, but she fought through it, groaning as she took in the world around herself. Everything was a weird mess of shrill yellow, brown, green and gray with some specks of black mixed in. Just trying to look around made her feel dizzy on top of her growing cranial pain, causing her to fall back on her bed, while trying fruitlessly to get her eyes used to the surroundings.
That was when she realized two things. One this wasn´t her bed -being hard and rough instead of the wonderful softness she was used to- and two, she was completely naked.
"Huh, that's odd." She croaked, surprised at how scratchy her throat felt. She thought she'd remember being in full armor before, so what happened to her outfit? Surely she didn't strip herself, so how…
Erza shook her head. That was for later. For now she blinked the spots out of her vision, so she could find out who's bed she was in. This one definitely wasn't hers.
Her vision cleared, bringing the room into focus. Around her was a bedroom, one she didn't recognize; it was smaller than her own, with the bed taking up a lot of the available space. Dimming orange light streamed from a small window. A large drawer was the other thing in her sight, a plain wooden thing topped by a weird little shrine she never saw before: there were a couple daggers forming a little tent around a woman's statue, a warrior she assumed based on the armor and outstretched sword.
There was more in the room beside that, like the shelves over the door holding knickknacks. Things like odd looking stones, several kinds of knives, pendants and sigils, and over the door a spear in good condition. But that shrine kept her attention. It wasn't any god or demon she recognized, what could she be?
Shuffling on the floor had Erza draw back, regretting it instantly when a wave of needly aches slammed into her. She hadn't entirely fought off the nausea when a mass of blankets she overlooked was flopped to the side, and a man rose with a groan. He had a sun baked complexion, dark haired and decently handsome, at the moment wearing a plain nightgown.
The man turned to her and opened his mouth, but immediately whipped around with red blooming on his cheeks. "Um, my lady. You're, uh, awake."
"I am." Erza agreed, relieved that she could understand him. "Who are you, and where am I?"
"I, erm, I am Raffaelo Grimaldi. I am a, uh, a priest. I… can you please cover yourself?" He strained out, covering his eyes.
"Why? Is there something wrong?" Erza peered at her body: everything looked to be in the right place.
He coughed. "You're, uh, naked."
"I know. Do you know where my armor went? I seemed to have misplaced it." She looked around again for her gear, finding nothing.
"Your armor, ah, was ruined. I had… had to peel it off. When I brought you to my home." He said the last part quickly.
"Ruined? How?" Erza leaned closer in spite of a stab of pain in her gut. Somehow he sensed her presence well enough to space himself an equal distance.
"You fell? From the sky." His throat bobbed, and next he spoke he pleaded. "Please, at least use the sheet."
With a huff, Erza yanked up the blanket to her collarbone, grunting an affirmative note. The man, Raffaelo, hesitatingly opened his hand, and when he saw her he dropped the limb with relief.
"Thank you. I am sorry for not giving you one of my nightgowns, but I had to dress your wounds." He still blushed.
"Wounds? You helped me?" Erza felt her suspicions subside. She didn't trust him whatsoever, but she felt he wasn't holding her captive.
Raffaelo nodded fast. "Three days ago you fell from the sky on my way home, you left a huge crater by the road. You didn't look like you were going to live, miss…"
"Erza Scarlet, of Fairy Tail. I thank you for helping me Mister Grimaldi." She gave a perfunctory bow that forced her breath out, but frowned for more than just pain. She didn't remember fighting anything tough enough to lay her out this badly, not recently. What had she gone up against to cause this?
Raffaelo cleared his throat and stood up fully, moving to the door. "I'll go fetch you something. Do you want food or water? You must be famished."
"Some water please." Erza nodded, watching him leave. When the door closed (without a latch she noticed), she flung the sheet aside and grimaced, swinging her legs to the bedside. Needles and creaks strong enough to make her wince followed every move, yet she pressed on.
Standing up was so simple, yet took so much effort. Erza wasn't sure if she actually could, but she had to try; with a gasp her feet landed on the wood floor, growing worse the more weight she put on them. That was bad, which led to problem two: her balance was gone. Picking up her head left Erza woozy, her feet felt as if they would slip out from under her. She had to grab the frame to stabilize herself, teeth gritted from strain.
Upon finally standing up, free from the bed's embrace, Erza felt like pumping a fist in victory. But if she did she would find herself hitting the floor in no time, forcing herself to wait until she was steadied first. A minute of listening to birds outside and Raffaelo opening cupboards nearby passed before she felt ready enough.
Light engulfed her body, Requip magic doing what it was supposed to. Only this time it was slower, more effort intensive than she was accustomed to. Like she was wading through water instead of air. That gave her pause when the light dispersed, just in time for Raffaelo to open the door.
"Miss Scarlet, you shouldn't…" he paused, a platter of bread and a cup in hand shaking a little when she met his confused gaze. He had put on some plain white robes and combed his hair, making himself presentable.
"Oh, this. My requip magic." Erza explained, flinching in pain when she tried to tap her breastplate.
"I'm sorry, requip 'magic?'" He repeated dumbfoundedly.
Grunting from effort, Erza managed to cross the room in a semi dignified stagger so she could snatch the mug first. She needed water more than food, though her stomach growled. After draining it in one gulp she nodded.
"Yes, I'm a wizard." She explained.
While in some places wizards were thin on the ground, generally very few people she ever met were ignorant of magic. It may not have been common, but to one extent or another everyone knew something about wizards.
So when Raffaelo took a step back with visible fear, Erza felt confusion. "You're, you are a wizard? But…"
"I understand if you never personally met one before today. But I'm no more dangerous than any other." She downplayed it; boasting of her strength could come later, when she could back up her words.
"You can't be. You're, uh, I don't know of any magic like that. It's nothing like the simple spells I know." He looked as dumbfounded as she suddenly felt.
"If you can cast spells, then you are a wizard too." Erza raised a brow when she shook his head.
"No, I am not a mage. My abilities aren't due to wild magic, I can only use what the blessed lady Myrmidia has bestowed upon me." He raised his hands non threateningly, a glow forming in his palms as he whispered something under his breath. He held out the glow to her without stopping, and when it touched Erza her many aches faded away. But only for that part, the rest of her body still felt like something chewed her up and spat her out.
Erza raised a brow when he stopped, finishing his mumbling to tip his head; he did say he was a priest, but this definitely wasn't like the kind she was used to. And the goddess he mentioned…
"Mister, or should I say Father Grimaldi." Only now was it dawning on her that something about this house felt off to her. The place was rustic, but that didn't add up to the other things he mentioned. "Who is Myrmidia?"
"You don't know?" Raffaelo's brow raised. "Lady Myrmidia is one of the gods of this land. She guides us in our lives, teaches us to live honorably and justly. To those who beseech her aid for a noble cause, she is willing to help."
"And… What are these lands? I fear I may be a long way from home." A pit in her stomach formed, growing heavier no matter how much she quashed the feeling.
"Here? We are near the city of Magrilano. It is a few hours walk away, but I undertake the journey without complaint. Where are you from?" Raffaelo asked, still looking uneasy and confused.
"The Kingdom of Fiore, Magnolia specifically. Do you know of it?" Erza dearly hoped the answer was yes, as she didn't recognize the names he gave her.
"I… no." He shook his head, inadvertently giving strength to her stomach pit.
Clearing her throat, Erza took a wincing step back. "I apologize, I need to step outside for a moment."
"I, ah, very well." Raffaelo frowned, leading her into a quaint yet definitely rustic home. It wasn't a large one, so they didn't go far to a thick wooden door. He swung it open for her, and Erza was through before he could protest.
One step, then two. Erza paused, taking in a scenic plain that possessed a few rolling hills topped by trees, lacking signs of habitation aside from a few unpaved roads, with warm weather that felt more like southerly lands. The sunset bathed the whole landscape in a pleasant orange glow. Definitely not Fiore.
A sharp gasp whipped her around, ignoring the stabbing pain everywhere to see why Raffaelo was alarmed. Only to be confused by him staring into the sky, visibly horrified; under his breath he whispered more of what she presumed was prayer. Following his gaze, her own throat clenched.
There were two moons in the sky. One was smaller than the real one, thin and wispy as daytime moons usually were, hugging the horizon opposite of the departing sun. But the other: not only was it larger than its brother, it was also a sickly green, the patterns on the surface making her skin crawl. It was bright enough that she strongly suspected it was emitting its own light.
Without meaning to she unclenched her jaw, feeling revulsion that wasn't due to her injuries. It looked like a sore on the sky, made worse by it going straight up instead of following the other, as if it were trying to take over the sun's territory now that it was leaving.
"Blessed Myrmidia, Morrslieb is out before the night. That, that's never happened before." Raffaelo muttered in terror. "This is a bad omen, oh it is a bad omen."
Erza swallowed a lump. "I don't think I'm in Earthland anymore."
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Chapter 3
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 3
With the evening fast approaching, it felt like a decent enough time to have something to eat. Erza had no appetite, though her empty stomach demanded something after her long nap, and Raffaelo was happy to warm up a pot of stew he made the day before. For when she woke up he had explained.
Stoking the fire, Raffaelo poured a bowl of steaming stuff that smelled of meat and vegetables to turn around. Seated at his table, Erza wordlessly accepted the bowl and a wooden spoon, eyes downcast while he served himself.
Raffaelo took the seat opposite of her, waiting until she sipped the warm food. "So, you can imagine I have questions."
"Yes, of course." Erza said between sips, dredging up everything she knew about interdimensional travel; there wasn't much, to her unlimited ire. "Before I answer, Father Grimaldi? What is the name of this land? You called it Miragliano?"
"Correct Miss Scarlet. The city-state of Miragliano is one of many that dot the land of Tilea. You haven't heard of this before, have you?" Raffaelo frowned.
"No. I am from a distant land, called Fiore. I hail from the city of Magnolia specifically. I… fear I am further away than I have ever been before." Erza set her spoon down. "Tell me, how often does one travel between worlds here? I do not mean to different nations or continents, but entirely separate versions of the world? Places where the very nature of things may be different."
Raffaelo scowled. "The only different realm I would know about is a hellscape of demons and madness and if I believed you originated from there, I would strike you down where you stand." He noticed the unimpressed look she gave him and quickly added, "Luckily Myrmidia has ruled the latter out."
"Can you tell me more about that hellscape?" Erza furrowed her brow; perhaps he meant the Spirit Realm? But even at its worst she wouldn't describe that place so badly.
"I know little about it, those who do tend to be its thralls, to do so is to invite their attention." He made some sort of gesture, as if to call some sort of protection upon himself. Despite it not creating anything approaching what she'd qualify as magic, the titania still felt a faint power following it. "It is called the Realm of Chaos, where evil resides and Daemons originate from." He did so again, but stopped at her fists curling on the table.
"Tell me more." Erza spoke without inflection.
"It's from where the Dark Gods cast their foul touch unto the lands, infesting those who are not careful enough, twisting even the animals into rapacious and murderous monsters to ravage at their behest!" Spittle flew away from his mouth as he began to talk himself in a rage, before throwing a glance at Erza, forcing himself to calm down.
"I see." She was eerily calm in comparison, but only on the outside.
Internally, she felt both a flash of trepidation, and a deep wellspring of rage bubbling within her. Demons infested this world too. Those vile creatures were a menace to all, to find out more existed here…
She felt phantom pains of claws raking over her naked form, violating her on the deepest of levels. For a moment she closed her eyes, controlling her breath as she forced any and all mental pictures of that dark and oh so cold cell away.
"How…. often is it that you are fighting those…. Demons around here?" She swallowed all the bile down that the memories of her captivity under Kyoka had brought up, and tried to keep up her respectful demeanor to the man who had aided her. To her shame she found herself not entirely able to do so.
Not that the man seemed to realize or care, he just eyed her intently again.
"Around here? Not too often. Myrmidia watches over Tilea, she would never allow her children to fall to the predations of demons. Sadly…. The men in the north lack a similarly caring and capable goddess to protect them." A haunted look entered his face. "I had to discover that the hard way when I travelled the empire during my accolyteship." He quickly shook his head. "But where are my manners? You must be starving. Let's get you some food."
It was busy work considering she hadn't finished her stew, but Erza let him refill her bowl so she could slurp it up. Though she was famished, the stuff had no taste for her. It was filling, helping to regenerate her strength, but she didn't try to examine its flavors or consistency. She had a feeling that even an enormous cake couldn't distract her now.
Erza had no easy way to return home. That alone was a problem, but it wasn't the root of her unease, no; magic was rare here, not fading like in Edolas, but for whatever reason it was different here. More dangerous, mustrusted. Was that due to the demons? Or was it something else? She had to find out.
She also wasn't sure of it yet, but it felt a lot less…. Pure than the one she was used to. Just to test it out she had tried to requip and dequip the spoon -made out wood of all things- using none of her, admittedly quite large internal reserves, and just the magic she could take on from the environment. It went slower, less stable than what she was used to.
Where her normal requip happened in a flash of a moment and left her with one of the many powerful magic weapons and armors that made up her arsenal, now it took multiple seconds for the spoon to manifest itself. And there were small chunks missing at the sides.
Trying to use the magic of this world could and would be substantially more tasking than what she was used to. No matter, that was something to think about later.
"Can you tell me…. More of this Goddess of yours, Myrmidia. You say she protects these lands?" Maybe she could help her get home?
"Myrmidia? She is the great goddess of these lands." Raffaelo's expression lit up, fumbling to withdraw a small emblem on a chain. It was shaped much like the sun and spear shrine in the bedroom, though less ornate. "Myrmidia is the lady of war and wisdom. Our faith in her guards us against the depreciations of the dark gods, and aids us against the onslaught of the foul skaven." A particular note of hate crossed his voice when he mentioned them and Erza could see how his hands tightened around the chain.
"She sounds magnificent. And where can I find her?" She sounded like a useful ally.
Raffaelo gave her a bizarre look. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, how can I talk to her? She sounds like she may know a way to bring me to my homeland and comrades." It seemed fairly obvious to her. What was there to be confused about?
Raffaelo's lost expression only grew worse. "Myrmidia isn't a flesh and blood individual. She descended into mortal flesh a long time ago to save our country, and after that went west to reascend onto her Godhood. You can't just speak to her! It takes many long years of labour and priestly education to be able to fuel her power and blessings!"
"Oh." Well…. That was a problem. "Do you know any mages of Tilea then? Maybe they know more?" At the very least, they should be able to explain the strange heavy magic that permeated the air around here better.
"Myrmidia teaches some magic, but she doesn't embrace it like other gods." He frowned. "While we have nothing like the dedicated mage academies of the Empire, it should be easy enough to find wizards in Migralino. Many hedge wizards and witches offer their services there or sell their trinkets. And you will find far more potent ones in the employ of the local merchant princes. They can tell you more about this than me." He coughed and ate the last of his own stew, wiping his mouth afterwards. "There is a market going on in nearby Corno, from a major trade caravan. It's going to Migralino, but I can't let you go there yet, not while morselieb stands in the sky."
"I…very well." She pursed her lips.
"While we are on the topic of magic, can you tell me what this blade of yours is." He stood up and made for his room, returning after a moment with a sword she recognized well. It was Benizakura, the demon blade shining even now with the enhancements made by Wendy. "I have seen weapons like this with Cathayan trade ships in Remas, but the… Power I feel in it, it's like one of the weapons of legend!"
"Ah, thank you for recovering my sword. This is my blade, Benizakura. It's good to see it whole." It had survived pretty much everyone she had used it so far, but after fighting her mother and shattering a meteor, she had indeed grown more than a little worried.
Reaching out she quickly took it from the priest, relieved to feel it's familiar weight in her hands yet again. And she didn't even need her senses to see how the sword was still pulsing with magic might, Wendy's dragon slayer magic on it having a much easier time converting this world's magic particles than she had.
"A good friend enchanted it with Dragon slayer magic shortly before I came here." She smiled. "That's the reason why it is behaving in this way." Or well, it was the most likely reason she knew at the moment. That was certainly something she had to investigate more later. It wouldn't do if the weapons and items she had put so much effort into were to do something she didn't know!
"Dragon…. Slayer magic?" Raffaelo said the words as if he couldn't fit them all that well together.
"Yes. It's very strong." It did have a rather poor record at actually slaying Dragons but she could certainly never call Natsu, Wendy, Gajeel or any other dragon slayer she ever encountered as weak.
Raffaelo halted again, brow furrowed. "Lady Scarlet, you may very well be the most bizarre woman I have ever met."
Erza felt a smile on her face. One that faded when she checked the pot, drawing his attention to the tray next to his fireplace. There were a few logs of wood left, not enough to last an hour, let alone overnight.
"Ah, that. I spent so much time attending you that I neglected to gather more firewood. I'm sorry but I think we will have to expect a cold night." He sighed, while looking around in his rather sparse home.
"There's no problem. I'll get some for you." Erza quickly rose up, experimentally cracking her joints and straining her muscles a little. Strange, Raffealo was once again staring at her like she was some especially yummy strawberry cake. He quickly shook it off though.
"No, you can't." Raffaelo blocked her way. "Morrslieb is out tonight, it's not wise to be under its baleful light. Besides Lady Scarlet, you are my guest. I can't ask you to do my chores."
"Nonsense, it's the least I can do to repay you. I'll be quick." Erza shoved past him, easily pushing him aside. He mustn't have put very much effort in trying to stop her, though given how polite he had been so far it was only reasonable that he'd hold back against her. Carefully opening the door, she peeked outside to see how bad this cursed light really was.
There wasn't much illumination, although the green light gave her uncomfortable reminders of Galuna island. Shaking her head, Erza selected a nearby tree; it was as wide as her torso and four times her height, more than enough for one night. And the best part was it didn't have many branches, reducing how much work she had to do.
Stopping before the tree, roughly twice as wide as she was, Erza cracked her neck; she wanted to test how bad off she was, and though she didn't like to admit it, she didn't want to use magic under that sickly moonlight. It felt wrong. So in lieu of something flashy, Erza wrapped her arms around the trunk, squatted, and pulled.
The tree shook. Beneath her boots the ground rumbled, roots getting torn from the soil. They were shallow but reached some distance away, necessitating her to back up and shuffle her arms along the trunk. Cracks of broken roots dueled with the rattling leaves, until a final snap tore it from the soil.
Erza widened her eyes, wobbling from almost losing her balance; a flash of lightheadedness struck, catching her off guard. With a grunt she recentered herself, scooching the bark onto her shoulders with a grunt.
Turning slowly so she wouldn't knock over anything by accident, Erza swung the roots coated in soil onto the grass before her. And nearly smacked Raffaelo in the
process; she lifted the edge over him before she could hit, though dirt dribbled off his clean robes.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you. Would you prefer to cut the branches off outside or in?" She asked.
Raffaelo opened his mouth, closed in, then rubbed his eyes. "What?"
AN:
Here is a fun new chapter, hope you guys enjoy
With the evening fast approaching, it felt like a decent enough time to have something to eat. Erza had no appetite, though her empty stomach demanded something after her long nap, and Raffaelo was happy to warm up a pot of stew he made the day before. For when she woke up he had explained.
Stoking the fire, Raffaelo poured a bowl of steaming stuff that smelled of meat and vegetables to turn around. Seated at his table, Erza wordlessly accepted the bowl and a wooden spoon, eyes downcast while he served himself.
Raffaelo took the seat opposite of her, waiting until she sipped the warm food. "So, you can imagine I have questions."
"Yes, of course." Erza said between sips, dredging up everything she knew about interdimensional travel; there wasn't much, to her unlimited ire. "Before I answer, Father Grimaldi? What is the name of this land? You called it Miragliano?"
"Correct Miss Scarlet. The city-state of Miragliano is one of many that dot the land of Tilea. You haven't heard of this before, have you?" Raffaelo frowned.
"No. I am from a distant land, called Fiore. I hail from the city of Magnolia specifically. I… fear I am further away than I have ever been before." Erza set her spoon down. "Tell me, how often does one travel between worlds here? I do not mean to different nations or continents, but entirely separate versions of the world? Places where the very nature of things may be different."
Raffaelo scowled. "The only different realm I would know about is a hellscape of demons and madness and if I believed you originated from there, I would strike you down where you stand." He noticed the unimpressed look she gave him and quickly added, "Luckily Myrmidia has ruled the latter out."
"Can you tell me more about that hellscape?" Erza furrowed her brow; perhaps he meant the Spirit Realm? But even at its worst she wouldn't describe that place so badly.
"I know little about it, those who do tend to be its thralls, to do so is to invite their attention." He made some sort of gesture, as if to call some sort of protection upon himself. Despite it not creating anything approaching what she'd qualify as magic, the titania still felt a faint power following it. "It is called the Realm of Chaos, where evil resides and Daemons originate from." He did so again, but stopped at her fists curling on the table.
"Tell me more." Erza spoke without inflection.
"It's from where the Dark Gods cast their foul touch unto the lands, infesting those who are not careful enough, twisting even the animals into rapacious and murderous monsters to ravage at their behest!" Spittle flew away from his mouth as he began to talk himself in a rage, before throwing a glance at Erza, forcing himself to calm down.
"I see." She was eerily calm in comparison, but only on the outside.
Internally, she felt both a flash of trepidation, and a deep wellspring of rage bubbling within her. Demons infested this world too. Those vile creatures were a menace to all, to find out more existed here…
She felt phantom pains of claws raking over her naked form, violating her on the deepest of levels. For a moment she closed her eyes, controlling her breath as she forced any and all mental pictures of that dark and oh so cold cell away.
"How…. often is it that you are fighting those…. Demons around here?" She swallowed all the bile down that the memories of her captivity under Kyoka had brought up, and tried to keep up her respectful demeanor to the man who had aided her. To her shame she found herself not entirely able to do so.
Not that the man seemed to realize or care, he just eyed her intently again.
"Around here? Not too often. Myrmidia watches over Tilea, she would never allow her children to fall to the predations of demons. Sadly…. The men in the north lack a similarly caring and capable goddess to protect them." A haunted look entered his face. "I had to discover that the hard way when I travelled the empire during my accolyteship." He quickly shook his head. "But where are my manners? You must be starving. Let's get you some food."
It was busy work considering she hadn't finished her stew, but Erza let him refill her bowl so she could slurp it up. Though she was famished, the stuff had no taste for her. It was filling, helping to regenerate her strength, but she didn't try to examine its flavors or consistency. She had a feeling that even an enormous cake couldn't distract her now.
Erza had no easy way to return home. That alone was a problem, but it wasn't the root of her unease, no; magic was rare here, not fading like in Edolas, but for whatever reason it was different here. More dangerous, mustrusted. Was that due to the demons? Or was it something else? She had to find out.
She also wasn't sure of it yet, but it felt a lot less…. Pure than the one she was used to. Just to test it out she had tried to requip and dequip the spoon -made out wood of all things- using none of her, admittedly quite large internal reserves, and just the magic she could take on from the environment. It went slower, less stable than what she was used to.
Where her normal requip happened in a flash of a moment and left her with one of the many powerful magic weapons and armors that made up her arsenal, now it took multiple seconds for the spoon to manifest itself. And there were small chunks missing at the sides.
Trying to use the magic of this world could and would be substantially more tasking than what she was used to. No matter, that was something to think about later.
"Can you tell me…. More of this Goddess of yours, Myrmidia. You say she protects these lands?" Maybe she could help her get home?
"Myrmidia? She is the great goddess of these lands." Raffaelo's expression lit up, fumbling to withdraw a small emblem on a chain. It was shaped much like the sun and spear shrine in the bedroom, though less ornate. "Myrmidia is the lady of war and wisdom. Our faith in her guards us against the depreciations of the dark gods, and aids us against the onslaught of the foul skaven." A particular note of hate crossed his voice when he mentioned them and Erza could see how his hands tightened around the chain.
"She sounds magnificent. And where can I find her?" She sounded like a useful ally.
Raffaelo gave her a bizarre look. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, how can I talk to her? She sounds like she may know a way to bring me to my homeland and comrades." It seemed fairly obvious to her. What was there to be confused about?
Raffaelo's lost expression only grew worse. "Myrmidia isn't a flesh and blood individual. She descended into mortal flesh a long time ago to save our country, and after that went west to reascend onto her Godhood. You can't just speak to her! It takes many long years of labour and priestly education to be able to fuel her power and blessings!"
"Oh." Well…. That was a problem. "Do you know any mages of Tilea then? Maybe they know more?" At the very least, they should be able to explain the strange heavy magic that permeated the air around here better.
"Myrmidia teaches some magic, but she doesn't embrace it like other gods." He frowned. "While we have nothing like the dedicated mage academies of the Empire, it should be easy enough to find wizards in Migralino. Many hedge wizards and witches offer their services there or sell their trinkets. And you will find far more potent ones in the employ of the local merchant princes. They can tell you more about this than me." He coughed and ate the last of his own stew, wiping his mouth afterwards. "There is a market going on in nearby Corno, from a major trade caravan. It's going to Migralino, but I can't let you go there yet, not while morselieb stands in the sky."
"I…very well." She pursed her lips.
"While we are on the topic of magic, can you tell me what this blade of yours is." He stood up and made for his room, returning after a moment with a sword she recognized well. It was Benizakura, the demon blade shining even now with the enhancements made by Wendy. "I have seen weapons like this with Cathayan trade ships in Remas, but the… Power I feel in it, it's like one of the weapons of legend!"
"Ah, thank you for recovering my sword. This is my blade, Benizakura. It's good to see it whole." It had survived pretty much everyone she had used it so far, but after fighting her mother and shattering a meteor, she had indeed grown more than a little worried.
Reaching out she quickly took it from the priest, relieved to feel it's familiar weight in her hands yet again. And she didn't even need her senses to see how the sword was still pulsing with magic might, Wendy's dragon slayer magic on it having a much easier time converting this world's magic particles than she had.
"A good friend enchanted it with Dragon slayer magic shortly before I came here." She smiled. "That's the reason why it is behaving in this way." Or well, it was the most likely reason she knew at the moment. That was certainly something she had to investigate more later. It wouldn't do if the weapons and items she had put so much effort into were to do something she didn't know!
"Dragon…. Slayer magic?" Raffaelo said the words as if he couldn't fit them all that well together.
"Yes. It's very strong." It did have a rather poor record at actually slaying Dragons but she could certainly never call Natsu, Wendy, Gajeel or any other dragon slayer she ever encountered as weak.
Raffaelo halted again, brow furrowed. "Lady Scarlet, you may very well be the most bizarre woman I have ever met."
Erza felt a smile on her face. One that faded when she checked the pot, drawing his attention to the tray next to his fireplace. There were a few logs of wood left, not enough to last an hour, let alone overnight.
"Ah, that. I spent so much time attending you that I neglected to gather more firewood. I'm sorry but I think we will have to expect a cold night." He sighed, while looking around in his rather sparse home.
"There's no problem. I'll get some for you." Erza quickly rose up, experimentally cracking her joints and straining her muscles a little. Strange, Raffealo was once again staring at her like she was some especially yummy strawberry cake. He quickly shook it off though.
"No, you can't." Raffaelo blocked her way. "Morrslieb is out tonight, it's not wise to be under its baleful light. Besides Lady Scarlet, you are my guest. I can't ask you to do my chores."
"Nonsense, it's the least I can do to repay you. I'll be quick." Erza shoved past him, easily pushing him aside. He mustn't have put very much effort in trying to stop her, though given how polite he had been so far it was only reasonable that he'd hold back against her. Carefully opening the door, she peeked outside to see how bad this cursed light really was.
There wasn't much illumination, although the green light gave her uncomfortable reminders of Galuna island. Shaking her head, Erza selected a nearby tree; it was as wide as her torso and four times her height, more than enough for one night. And the best part was it didn't have many branches, reducing how much work she had to do.
Stopping before the tree, roughly twice as wide as she was, Erza cracked her neck; she wanted to test how bad off she was, and though she didn't like to admit it, she didn't want to use magic under that sickly moonlight. It felt wrong. So in lieu of something flashy, Erza wrapped her arms around the trunk, squatted, and pulled.
The tree shook. Beneath her boots the ground rumbled, roots getting torn from the soil. They were shallow but reached some distance away, necessitating her to back up and shuffle her arms along the trunk. Cracks of broken roots dueled with the rattling leaves, until a final snap tore it from the soil.
Erza widened her eyes, wobbling from almost losing her balance; a flash of lightheadedness struck, catching her off guard. With a grunt she recentered herself, scooching the bark onto her shoulders with a grunt.
Turning slowly so she wouldn't knock over anything by accident, Erza swung the roots coated in soil onto the grass before her. And nearly smacked Raffaelo in the
process; she lifted the edge over him before she could hit, though dirt dribbled off his clean robes.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you. Would you prefer to cut the branches off outside or in?" She asked.
Raffaelo opened his mouth, closed in, then rubbed his eyes. "What?"
AN:
Here is a fun new chapter, hope you guys enjoy
CHapter 4
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 4
Benizakura went through the meter thick, hard trunk as if it was barely more than a sheet of paper, flashing in a tornado of slashes that shredded the massive tree down to hundreds of pieces of firewood, each about as long and broad as her forearm. More than good enough to last a week. To be honest, it was more than Raffealo was going to need in Erza's opinion, but after he had picked her up, clothed her and healed most of her injuries. It was the least she could do to pay him back.
It also served a secondary purpose.
The last time Erza had found herself in another world, the lack of ethernano particles had cost her much of her speed and strength, but she seemed to have kept that much at least. Her arms and legs ached lightly as she swung them, probably from the minor injuries and cracks that hadn't fully healed. She was also feeling a slight sickness, but nothing too severe. Nevermind, she'd recover soon enough.
"Is that enough?" She turned around to Raffaelo, who was still staring at her.
Was he still worried about this bad moonlight? Well maybe he had a point there, she was after all not an inhabitant of this land. It wouldn't do if she grew a third arm or had her mind warped, like the poor inhabitants from galuna island she had aided so long ago.
A happy whistle on her hands, she grabbed thirty pieces or so of freshly cut wood and began to carry the pile back into the rather meager house. Raffaello only really began to talk when she was already past him, well on her way of shoving the wood into the fireplace.
"H-how did you do that?" The priest's formerly sure voice was shaken, almost stuttering quality as he just followed her every motion, almost as if he was afraid. But that was a silly thought, there was no reason Erza could think of why he should be.
"How did I do what?" Was he asking her how she cut the wood? Surely he knew how that process went.
"You-" he gestured at the door, doing a double take and slamming it shut. Doing that took the green light from his home, much to her quiet relief. "You just ripped a tree out of the ground, like an ogre or a giant. Then you, y-you just chopped up the whole thing in seconds." He openly gawked.
"The less time spent in the moonlight the better." Erza tossed more wood onto the fire, growing the blaze. "You said so, didn't you? Why actually? What can this green light do?" She glanced at the outside suspiciously. There were walls between them, but would that really stop some malicious magic? Raffaelo gulped, his shock giving way to fear.
"Morrslieb is… is an evil moon. It appears when it wills, follows its own path, and when it does, evil grows in power. Those who linger in its light have their minds, bodies, and souls warped. I personally never witnessed it, but I heard stories of people who did. People who I trust. Also, those are not the only dangers." He sighed, teeth gritted. "They are more active during nights and days like this." He closed his eyes, his temper clearly flying up. "The damned skaven."
He spat the word out like it was a curse. For all Erza knew, it was.
"The demented ratmen love Morrslieb. Love to bathe in it's light. At times like this they are out, hitting villages and isolated settlements to kidnap and devour the inhabitants. Or worse." He shuddered, speaking clearly of experience.
She wanted to ask what a skaven was, but the way he pulled himself together signaled he was done with the matter.
He interrupted her before she could ask anyway. "We should head to Carno as early as possible tomorrow, hopefully morrslieb will not infest the heavens still by then. For tonight we should separately stand guard and sleep. Are you capable of that?"
"I will." Erza wasn't entirely feeling up for a night watch, but if he thought there was danger, then she would.
"Good. Do you have skaven in your world? Ratmen are usually about this tall." He put his hand at his chest while looking at her. When she shook her head he just sighed again. "You come from a lucky land indeed, Erza, if it lacks the skaven. They are a scourge like no other."
"They seem like a pressing threat. Why haven't the guilds of these lands done against them? They hardly sound like something that could or should be ignored." They certainly sounded terribly threatening.
He let out a bitter laugh. "Were it so easy! The skaven are numberless vermin, it matters not how many are killed, more will take their place. It would take all of Tilea stopping their pointless squabbles over money and territory, and instead to take arms against the true threat instead of each other."
A sadness overcame his face as he mentioned that.
"However no one has been able to reunite my people since our Goddess herself descended from the heavens." He stared at the eagle shrine that made up the centre of his house. "And I can only pray that I´ll live to see the day that myrmidia sends a champion to rid us of the vermin."
"I see. Perhaps I'll lend aid when I can." Erza decided, tossing another log on the fire.
"With your strength that would certainly help. If you ever need coin, I'm sure some fighting companies would love to have you on their side." Raffaelo suggested.
"Perhaps." Erza rolled her shoulders. "I will take the first watch. You need your rest if you're taking me to Corno tomorrow."
"I should-"
"I have slept enough." Erza cut him off. He looked to protest, but her solid gaze was ready to throw it right back at him.
"Very well. I will relieve you in a few hours." He groaned, standing up to leave for the bedroom.
Erza sat back in her chair, Benizakura resting on her hips, her hands ready to draw them and pulverize any enemy who would try to sneak into their room. Every thirty seconds or so she scanned the windows, watching for anything unusual. Anything that seemed like it was spying where it didn't belong. There was a long ahead of her, becoming complacent could be dangerous.
In the meantime she snagged a rag to start cleaning Benizakura. There were a lot of splinters in the hilt, and she needed to check if her helpful act had chipped the edge at all. While not her only weapon, she most assuredly didn't want to damage it unnecessarily.
Benizakura had survived clashes that could have torn islands apart but it didn´t hurt to be careful. A good swordswoman's worth could be seen at the state of her weaponry and Erza would certainly not act carelessly with one of her most precious swords.
Even now flashes of red energy danced around the blade, causing it to vibrate slightly. Something in this world was affecting the demon blade, even when it had been sheathed. Now she could see it more clearly; it hummed with power that wasn't hers, its ability to absorb magic in order to enhance itself currently at work. But if it wasn't taking her magic, then where was this power coming from?
The magic of this world? Something else?
In the middle of her musing she heard a stick crack. Erza paused mid-wipe, swiveling towards the window. Without any sudden moves she set the rag down, slowly rising from the chair. She clenched the sword and hugged the wall, making sure she wasn't visible to the outside. Stopping an arms length away from the window, she listened; wildlife perhaps? She hoped so.
Another crack had her tense, it sounded to be around the same distance away. Where the branches were left after she cut them, adding credence to her assumption. That was a lot of leaves left for the taking. Another stick went crunch, still in the same place, roughly. Was there one or-
Crack.
Erza tensed; that one was closer. She gripped the sword tight, waiting, then receiving another warning. A low, throaty grunt, like a pig but not quite. For one it sounded larger, and higher up than an animal should be. By her guess it was probably less than a hundred meters away and it was headed their way.
Deciding on a course of action, Erza threw open the door and strode out under the uncomfortable green light. It was dark outside, but not so dark that she couldn´t see.
There were two intruders on the Grimaldi property, the sight of them froze her for a moment, much to her idle embarrassment; they were taller than her, coated in thick mangy fur that was stuffed with all kinds of things. Their heads however were shaped like goats, topped by large curved horns. Neither wore anything, so their beefy forms were only hidden by the darkness. The same couldn't be said for the smell; it was like they went bathing in a sewer.
Both halted as well, blinking in surprise like caught deer. Then the first twisted its bestial features into a grimace and let out something that sounded like a mix between a bleat and a gurgling scream, raising what looked like a very rusty rudimental dagger. The other didn't even have that and instead was just armed with a club.
Both looked a bit like Aries, if the latter hadn't showered in a year. Best she was going to knock them out, so that she could interrogate them later.
Having come to a reasonable conclusion she surged forwards between the slow-as-snails men and jabbed her fists into their necks, a move she had spent much time learning to perfect. Natsu had been a willing and enthusiastic assistant, always eager to let her test her techniques on him.
Only, Natsu's head didn't explode in a bubble of gore and bone shards, almost as foul smelling as their hides. The two goatmen were blown back, knocked off their hooves so pathetically easily; everything from their sternums up was simply gone, sent flying into the night somewhere. Warm liquid splashed onto her arms, some landing on her collarbone. All while the two men dropped like sacks of potatoes, thumping on the ground and stopping.
Erza was like a statue, quivering arms outstretched as she stared wide eyed at their bodies. When they lowered at last she struggled to tear her eyes off them, slowing her breathing to shallow gulps. She… she didn't hit them that hard. How?
The door creaked open, making her whirl around. Haloed in the light was Raffaelo, clad in a nightgown and stifling a yawn.
"Ah, Miss Scarlet? What are you doing out there? I heard a commotion-" he stepped out his door, but halted a few paces away. Naturally, his eyes were glued to the bodies.
Erza cleared her throat, trying in vain to stop her shaking. "I, I-I was trying to knock them out. Normally that… that doesn't happen."
"Beastmen." He shook his head, letting out a relieved breath. "You don´t need feel bad about them."
It was Erza's turn to look confused, prompting a sigh.
"They are some of the monsters Morrslieb affects, I shouldn't be surprised that they are out tonight. If you hadn't been on watch, they would have eaten us." He explained.
"But…" Erza raised a brow in bafflement.
"You did well, truly." Raffaelo smiled.
"I… I need to wash this off." She stomped back indoors, heading to a washpot. The blood stank, she wanted it off her.
"However." Raffaelo halted Erza in her tracks. "Can you help me move the bodies? They'll lure in more."
"More?" Erza swung around.
"Yeah. More." He nodded grimly. "I'd assume these beastmen are mere scouts. They are rare here, but not unheard of."
"Scouts for what?" Erza faced him.
His eyes narrowed at the corpses. "A warherd."
AN;
And we have a new chapter. Hope you have fun with it. Comments and constructive critique is always appreciated
Benizakura went through the meter thick, hard trunk as if it was barely more than a sheet of paper, flashing in a tornado of slashes that shredded the massive tree down to hundreds of pieces of firewood, each about as long and broad as her forearm. More than good enough to last a week. To be honest, it was more than Raffealo was going to need in Erza's opinion, but after he had picked her up, clothed her and healed most of her injuries. It was the least she could do to pay him back.
It also served a secondary purpose.
The last time Erza had found herself in another world, the lack of ethernano particles had cost her much of her speed and strength, but she seemed to have kept that much at least. Her arms and legs ached lightly as she swung them, probably from the minor injuries and cracks that hadn't fully healed. She was also feeling a slight sickness, but nothing too severe. Nevermind, she'd recover soon enough.
"Is that enough?" She turned around to Raffaelo, who was still staring at her.
Was he still worried about this bad moonlight? Well maybe he had a point there, she was after all not an inhabitant of this land. It wouldn't do if she grew a third arm or had her mind warped, like the poor inhabitants from galuna island she had aided so long ago.
A happy whistle on her hands, she grabbed thirty pieces or so of freshly cut wood and began to carry the pile back into the rather meager house. Raffaello only really began to talk when she was already past him, well on her way of shoving the wood into the fireplace.
"H-how did you do that?" The priest's formerly sure voice was shaken, almost stuttering quality as he just followed her every motion, almost as if he was afraid. But that was a silly thought, there was no reason Erza could think of why he should be.
"How did I do what?" Was he asking her how she cut the wood? Surely he knew how that process went.
"You-" he gestured at the door, doing a double take and slamming it shut. Doing that took the green light from his home, much to her quiet relief. "You just ripped a tree out of the ground, like an ogre or a giant. Then you, y-you just chopped up the whole thing in seconds." He openly gawked.
"The less time spent in the moonlight the better." Erza tossed more wood onto the fire, growing the blaze. "You said so, didn't you? Why actually? What can this green light do?" She glanced at the outside suspiciously. There were walls between them, but would that really stop some malicious magic? Raffaelo gulped, his shock giving way to fear.
"Morrslieb is… is an evil moon. It appears when it wills, follows its own path, and when it does, evil grows in power. Those who linger in its light have their minds, bodies, and souls warped. I personally never witnessed it, but I heard stories of people who did. People who I trust. Also, those are not the only dangers." He sighed, teeth gritted. "They are more active during nights and days like this." He closed his eyes, his temper clearly flying up. "The damned skaven."
He spat the word out like it was a curse. For all Erza knew, it was.
"The demented ratmen love Morrslieb. Love to bathe in it's light. At times like this they are out, hitting villages and isolated settlements to kidnap and devour the inhabitants. Or worse." He shuddered, speaking clearly of experience.
She wanted to ask what a skaven was, but the way he pulled himself together signaled he was done with the matter.
He interrupted her before she could ask anyway. "We should head to Carno as early as possible tomorrow, hopefully morrslieb will not infest the heavens still by then. For tonight we should separately stand guard and sleep. Are you capable of that?"
"I will." Erza wasn't entirely feeling up for a night watch, but if he thought there was danger, then she would.
"Good. Do you have skaven in your world? Ratmen are usually about this tall." He put his hand at his chest while looking at her. When she shook her head he just sighed again. "You come from a lucky land indeed, Erza, if it lacks the skaven. They are a scourge like no other."
"They seem like a pressing threat. Why haven't the guilds of these lands done against them? They hardly sound like something that could or should be ignored." They certainly sounded terribly threatening.
He let out a bitter laugh. "Were it so easy! The skaven are numberless vermin, it matters not how many are killed, more will take their place. It would take all of Tilea stopping their pointless squabbles over money and territory, and instead to take arms against the true threat instead of each other."
A sadness overcame his face as he mentioned that.
"However no one has been able to reunite my people since our Goddess herself descended from the heavens." He stared at the eagle shrine that made up the centre of his house. "And I can only pray that I´ll live to see the day that myrmidia sends a champion to rid us of the vermin."
"I see. Perhaps I'll lend aid when I can." Erza decided, tossing another log on the fire.
"With your strength that would certainly help. If you ever need coin, I'm sure some fighting companies would love to have you on their side." Raffaelo suggested.
"Perhaps." Erza rolled her shoulders. "I will take the first watch. You need your rest if you're taking me to Corno tomorrow."
"I should-"
"I have slept enough." Erza cut him off. He looked to protest, but her solid gaze was ready to throw it right back at him.
"Very well. I will relieve you in a few hours." He groaned, standing up to leave for the bedroom.
Erza sat back in her chair, Benizakura resting on her hips, her hands ready to draw them and pulverize any enemy who would try to sneak into their room. Every thirty seconds or so she scanned the windows, watching for anything unusual. Anything that seemed like it was spying where it didn't belong. There was a long ahead of her, becoming complacent could be dangerous.
In the meantime she snagged a rag to start cleaning Benizakura. There were a lot of splinters in the hilt, and she needed to check if her helpful act had chipped the edge at all. While not her only weapon, she most assuredly didn't want to damage it unnecessarily.
Benizakura had survived clashes that could have torn islands apart but it didn´t hurt to be careful. A good swordswoman's worth could be seen at the state of her weaponry and Erza would certainly not act carelessly with one of her most precious swords.
Even now flashes of red energy danced around the blade, causing it to vibrate slightly. Something in this world was affecting the demon blade, even when it had been sheathed. Now she could see it more clearly; it hummed with power that wasn't hers, its ability to absorb magic in order to enhance itself currently at work. But if it wasn't taking her magic, then where was this power coming from?
The magic of this world? Something else?
In the middle of her musing she heard a stick crack. Erza paused mid-wipe, swiveling towards the window. Without any sudden moves she set the rag down, slowly rising from the chair. She clenched the sword and hugged the wall, making sure she wasn't visible to the outside. Stopping an arms length away from the window, she listened; wildlife perhaps? She hoped so.
Another crack had her tense, it sounded to be around the same distance away. Where the branches were left after she cut them, adding credence to her assumption. That was a lot of leaves left for the taking. Another stick went crunch, still in the same place, roughly. Was there one or-
Crack.
Erza tensed; that one was closer. She gripped the sword tight, waiting, then receiving another warning. A low, throaty grunt, like a pig but not quite. For one it sounded larger, and higher up than an animal should be. By her guess it was probably less than a hundred meters away and it was headed their way.
Deciding on a course of action, Erza threw open the door and strode out under the uncomfortable green light. It was dark outside, but not so dark that she couldn´t see.
There were two intruders on the Grimaldi property, the sight of them froze her for a moment, much to her idle embarrassment; they were taller than her, coated in thick mangy fur that was stuffed with all kinds of things. Their heads however were shaped like goats, topped by large curved horns. Neither wore anything, so their beefy forms were only hidden by the darkness. The same couldn't be said for the smell; it was like they went bathing in a sewer.
Both halted as well, blinking in surprise like caught deer. Then the first twisted its bestial features into a grimace and let out something that sounded like a mix between a bleat and a gurgling scream, raising what looked like a very rusty rudimental dagger. The other didn't even have that and instead was just armed with a club.
Both looked a bit like Aries, if the latter hadn't showered in a year. Best she was going to knock them out, so that she could interrogate them later.
Having come to a reasonable conclusion she surged forwards between the slow-as-snails men and jabbed her fists into their necks, a move she had spent much time learning to perfect. Natsu had been a willing and enthusiastic assistant, always eager to let her test her techniques on him.
Only, Natsu's head didn't explode in a bubble of gore and bone shards, almost as foul smelling as their hides. The two goatmen were blown back, knocked off their hooves so pathetically easily; everything from their sternums up was simply gone, sent flying into the night somewhere. Warm liquid splashed onto her arms, some landing on her collarbone. All while the two men dropped like sacks of potatoes, thumping on the ground and stopping.
Erza was like a statue, quivering arms outstretched as she stared wide eyed at their bodies. When they lowered at last she struggled to tear her eyes off them, slowing her breathing to shallow gulps. She… she didn't hit them that hard. How?
The door creaked open, making her whirl around. Haloed in the light was Raffaelo, clad in a nightgown and stifling a yawn.
"Ah, Miss Scarlet? What are you doing out there? I heard a commotion-" he stepped out his door, but halted a few paces away. Naturally, his eyes were glued to the bodies.
Erza cleared her throat, trying in vain to stop her shaking. "I, I-I was trying to knock them out. Normally that… that doesn't happen."
"Beastmen." He shook his head, letting out a relieved breath. "You don´t need feel bad about them."
It was Erza's turn to look confused, prompting a sigh.
"They are some of the monsters Morrslieb affects, I shouldn't be surprised that they are out tonight. If you hadn't been on watch, they would have eaten us." He explained.
"But…" Erza raised a brow in bafflement.
"You did well, truly." Raffaelo smiled.
"I… I need to wash this off." She stomped back indoors, heading to a washpot. The blood stank, she wanted it off her.
"However." Raffaelo halted Erza in her tracks. "Can you help me move the bodies? They'll lure in more."
"More?" Erza swung around.
"Yeah. More." He nodded grimly. "I'd assume these beastmen are mere scouts. They are rare here, but not unheard of."
"Scouts for what?" Erza faced him.
His eyes narrowed at the corpses. "A warherd."
AN;
And we have a new chapter. Hope you have fun with it. Comments and constructive critique is always appreciated
Chapter 5
- Pronouns
- He
Chaper 5
"A warherd."
Erza didn't like the sound of that, so much that she could forget the blood dripping from her hands. "Tell me what a warherd is."
Raffaelo spared a glance at the bodies, gesturing for her. He showed no signs of wishing to speak yet. Stifling a groan, Erza strode over to drag one headless beastman's arm, taking it away from his home. He led her to a shallow depression a short distance from the house, apparently for excess rainwater. Now she rolled it in there, as he gathered up sticks.
"A warherd is what it sounds like, a great number of beastmen rousing themselves to war. They are rare in these parts but it happens every now and again." He sent the green moon a scowl; Erza glanced, and felt some surprise to see how much of the sky it had crossed already, moving in a completely different direction than what she saw earlier. "I'm sure the northmen could regale you of tales fighting those monsters, when they're not screaming about their wolf god. But put simply, imagine several hundred of these things, as foul tempered as they smell."
"That's a troubling thought." Erza waved a hand in front of her nose, now growing aware of the stench; it wasn't its innards, but the fur itself outright stank. And she still had to grab the other.
"When beastmen go to war, its always a messy affair. They destroy anything manmade, steal everything they can, and kill everyone. Violently, often using the dead as rations." Raffaelo continued, gathering an armload of sticks.
"Where do they come from? They don't seem natural." Erza dragged the second body over, waiting until he tossed in his sticks before tossing the heavy creature in.
"They aren't. Beastmen are born in evil, and they spread it whenever and however they can. Wherever they attack, the forces of darkness are never far behind. The Sigmarites got one thing right: the best way to deal with these monsters is through fire." Raffaelo went to gather more kindling. She thought there was enough.
A bright flash had him around, his smoldering distast turning into a confused look at the sword in Erza's hand. She lifted the red and bronze sword, a bright flame igniting on the blade; the darkness was banished, even the sickly moonlight was pushed back under its blazing light. Smiling at her sword coming to her without issue, Erza swept it towards the beastmen.
For a moment the world was consumed by a flash of light and fire as the heat incinerated the drier wood right away, the stinky fur catching fire almost immediately. In moments muscles and skin were immolated, flesh boiling and the very bones of the beastmen cadavers melting away.
It only took a couple moments, maybe one or two seconds, but when she relented there was nothing left of the bodies but desolated land with what looked like molten earth where the fire had been most intense. Of the monsters she accidentally killed, there was only a couple charred bones remaining.
"Do beastmen take captives?"
Raffaelo had to close his eyes, blinking multiple times for his sight to properly return before he could respond, getting over the shock. "Excuse me?"
"You said before that my world was fortunate not to have things like skaven. There may be things worse than them however." Erza dismissed her sword, taking a moment to bask in the fire's warmth. "Truthfully, when I first saw these beastmen I thought they were monsters native to my home, called Vulcans. They take captives, female ones. You can assume why." She turned to face him. "Do beastmen do the same?"
"I… have heard stories of that. As rumors. Normally, the only reason a beastman would capture a prisoner is for a later snack. But every so often, there's a tall tale of a witch or an abducted woman being used for.. other purposes." He cleared his throat. "I should not speak of these matters. It is late, we have to go to Corno in the morning."
"Of course, I was simply curious." Erza nodded, turning back to the house. But not before sparing a look at the woods, wondering what was peering back at her.
Line break
Deep within a forest of Tilea, monsters dwelled.
The flesh let out one final cry as it was pushed onto the sacred stone, the green rock casting it's light on it already before it made contact.
Muscles bulged as it tried to break free from the Gors' hold, but the efforts amounted to nothing. Like all the prey that lived in the cities and lands outside of the forests it was weak, unable to contest the true rulers of the world. The true chosen of the Gods.
With a single kick of his hooves Ghurleth shattered its chin, stopping the flesh's pathetic struggle. Moving fast Ghurleth buried his ritual blade into it's chest, before tearing the still beating heart out with nothing but Ghurleth's bare hands.
Ghurleth let out a triumphant howl and swallowed it whole, the entire herd joining in, their cries drowning out the whimpers of those prey that still were off service to the tribe.
Even now Ghurleth felt the blood sacrifice channeling might into Ghurleth guts, growing Ghurleth even more, both physically and with the shamanic gifts that Ghurleth had been blessed with. Ghurleth's muscles bloated up even more and Ghurleth let out another scream, one of agony, not ecstasy this time.
Muscles and flesh expanded, bone grew and even Ghurleth's blessed horns massed on and on, shredding arteries, nerves and veins in the process. Internal injuries were afflicted that would have felled even a beastlord. For a long second, Ghurleth seemed to be on the verge of becoming a dreaded and pitiful Spawn.
But Ghurleth wasn't just some ordinary cloven one, not even one of the beastlord, Ghurleth was Ghurleth! Ghurleth was strong! Ghurleth had been chosen by the gods personally to bring down the vile and weak civilisations of the uncloven ones, be they furred or smoothskin.
Ghurleth maw gaped way open, vomiting a mass of blood as well as pieces of bone and teeth that had begun to fill Ghurleth's mouth. Ghurleth spewed a litany of chants, feeling how the great and awesome power of Ghurleth's patrons washed over Ghurleth's body, fixing the hideous harm that had been done and leaving only blessed growth.
A powerful roar swarmed over the encampment, cowing even the brainless minotaurs. Ghurleth's roar was not just a declaration of strength, but a promise made under the depraved light of the Chaos Moon: Ghurleth was strong, Ghurleth would vanquish all foes of the dark gods and clovenkind!
With a jab Ghurleth's stave stabbed into the dark forest, and the beastmen charged forth into the murky woods. Men feared it, as they should; the world didn't belong to them, and now it was time to remind the prey of their place. Ghurleth let out a baleful laugh at the center of the herd, going to enact the will of the gods.
A week ago, when Ghurleth had first received these new blessings of the gods, Gurluth had taught this to the uncloven ones. Back then Guhrleth had only commanded a small herd of beastmen, barely worthy of the name. But then the Gods had recognized Ghurleth's skill and might and had rewarded Ghurleth accordingly.
Ghurleth still remembered the way the uncloven ones that had clad themselves in armor had screamed as Ghurleth had engulfed them with his might. The dozen strongest and most worthy of the unworthy Ghurleth left alive, converting them into the true children of the forests. Newly cloven they had feasted on the unworthy ones they had foolishly protected so far, and Ghurleth had rewarded them for it.
Now that dozen stood amongst the hundreds of his ever growing tribe. They had, along with Ghurleth, ravaged the countryside these last days, their horde ever growing in the process, both by what meagre beastmen tribes there were in these lands joining Ghurleth and by the conversion and rutting of new ones.
But Ghurleth needed more. Even now Ghurleth didn't allow any hubris, Ghurleth needed numbers. More numbers. What broodmares he had would take moons to produce new forces. Luckily Ghurleth was smart. Ghurleth knew where he could get many new converts for Ghurleth's tribe.
With a roar and a single channeling of his might Ghurleth commanded hundreds of Ghurleths lesser brothers into a stampede.
Soon all uncloven ones would fear Ghurleth's might.
They did not need to go far to find new flesh. Ghurleth's scouts found a nest on their migration path, a new creation made sometime in the last moon. It was built by the hated pretenders, the rat-things; lowly creatures who spat on the gifts of the dark gods. Long have they held purchase on these lands, denying the birthright of their betters. Their lack of faith was compensated for by their foul machines, eagerly adopting the ways of civilization instead of relying on their own strength. No wonder they were so small and runty.
Before their trinkets had granted them boons over the beastmen, too powerful to face them and win. No more. Ghurleth now had the blessings to swat aside the pests.
Simpering cries arose all around Ghurleth's herd, followed by the whistles of the rat-thing's weapons. Many brays fell immediately, trampled underhoof or torn apart so their meat may yet provide to the herd. Ghurleth didn't particularly care, what mattered were the Gors; projectiles impacted off their hides, but the tiny things couldn't fell their roaring forms so easily.
The closer Ghurleth's host came to the rat-things' hovel the greater the resistance rose. More creatures emerged under the darkness, swords and spears and all kinds of civilized machines in their grubby paws, building orderly formations with squeaks and blows, instead of attacking as true children of Chaos. More Brays died, now some of the Ungors joined them.
The rat-things didn't realize they were already doomed; the first ranks of the vermind met Ghurleth's host, and promptly crumpled. So small and weak, even the Brays could easily crush them. Gors laughed and roared, sending blood flying with viscera every which way. Choicy bits of rat, what few there were, got snatched up from the ground or even out of the air, stuffed into slavering maws.
Ghurleth didn't let the herd take all the meat; one rat-thing in dark robes leapt off a tree at Ghurleth. It squeaked so pathetically when Ghurleth snatched it out of midair, snatching its neck in an iron grip. Without stopping Ghurleth brought the rat closer and chomped off its head, ripping it off to toss the rat to the Ungors, who themselves encouraged the minotaurs to charge.
Swallowing a lump of tasteless meat, Ghurleth bellowed, "Ghurleth demands prisoners!"
A snarl left Ghurleth's maw when the herd ignored the order. The Gors collided with the rat-things lines, smashing them apart as they deserved. Bodies flew, weapons broke, vermin died; in Ghurleth's heart there was joy at the destruction, eying a spindly metal watchtower fall in a heap, crushing several rats and a Bray with a tremendous crash. It was pleasing to Ghurleth, and thus to the gods. But if this kept up, Ghurleth's goal would go unfulfilled. The damned rats would replenish their losses while Ghurleth bled strength.
Grabbing a Gor by the neck, Ghurleth screamed in its face, "Prisoners!"
Around Ghurleth the 'battle' ended as swiftly as it began. Six to one odds would have meant a loss under normal conditions, a thousand rats obliterating Ghurleth's several hundred strong herd. Normally.
Now, Gors and Ungors wrestled a line of rats up in an uneven mess, hurting the struggling creatures. One rat bit a Gor's hand, earning a snarl before the beastmen ripped it in half. Elsewhere the rest of the herd destroyed the nest; anything that looked made was broken, anything that could be salvaged was taken. Gazing around, Ghurleth was pleased at the number of bodies; the herd would feast for days.
But first, Ghurleth had to dispense Ghurleth's gifts.
One rat was brought forth, its leather armor indicating a leader. Ghurleth snorted at it; the rat was too fragile to rely on its own strength, so it had to wear armor? Without it the flesh was no different than any others. Weak, small, and hissing at Ghurleth. This one would do.
Light collected in Ghurleth's paw, causing a deathly silence to settle over the observing herd. While not the first time they had witnessed the gift of the gods, they did not grow tired at seeing it again. Ghurleth was happy to demonstrate, as many times as necessary. Perhaps the rat was too? It was staring at the light with something resembling awe, or shock. Ghurleth didn't particularly care. Raising the glowing hand, the rat thrashed and struggled, helpless against the chuckling Gor's might.
With a grin Ghurleth pressed the hand against the rat's snout, and let the power flow. It screamed at the light engulfing its body, flesh twisting and tearing to Ghurleth's will; limbs extended, stubby horns popped up from its head, it grew taller. The flesh morphed from the sniveling rat into something more worthy of the dark gods.
A moment later the light vanished, Ghurleth lowering a hand fast enough that a shiver wasn't visible. In the Gor's hands the former rat slumped, collapsing after its support let go. A new Bray hit the dirt like a newborn, a small and weak one to be sure, but a proper beastman nonetheless. Swiftly kicking the weak Bray, Ghurleth roared again to meet the herd's triumphant cries.
Ghurleth swept towards the rest of the now thoroughly cowed prisoners, soon to be new members of Ghurleth's host. One down, many, many more to go.
AN:
Like always, immense credit goes to @Hapless Anon. Hope you enjoy the chapter
"A warherd."
Erza didn't like the sound of that, so much that she could forget the blood dripping from her hands. "Tell me what a warherd is."
Raffaelo spared a glance at the bodies, gesturing for her. He showed no signs of wishing to speak yet. Stifling a groan, Erza strode over to drag one headless beastman's arm, taking it away from his home. He led her to a shallow depression a short distance from the house, apparently for excess rainwater. Now she rolled it in there, as he gathered up sticks.
"A warherd is what it sounds like, a great number of beastmen rousing themselves to war. They are rare in these parts but it happens every now and again." He sent the green moon a scowl; Erza glanced, and felt some surprise to see how much of the sky it had crossed already, moving in a completely different direction than what she saw earlier. "I'm sure the northmen could regale you of tales fighting those monsters, when they're not screaming about their wolf god. But put simply, imagine several hundred of these things, as foul tempered as they smell."
"That's a troubling thought." Erza waved a hand in front of her nose, now growing aware of the stench; it wasn't its innards, but the fur itself outright stank. And she still had to grab the other.
"When beastmen go to war, its always a messy affair. They destroy anything manmade, steal everything they can, and kill everyone. Violently, often using the dead as rations." Raffaelo continued, gathering an armload of sticks.
"Where do they come from? They don't seem natural." Erza dragged the second body over, waiting until he tossed in his sticks before tossing the heavy creature in.
"They aren't. Beastmen are born in evil, and they spread it whenever and however they can. Wherever they attack, the forces of darkness are never far behind. The Sigmarites got one thing right: the best way to deal with these monsters is through fire." Raffaelo went to gather more kindling. She thought there was enough.
A bright flash had him around, his smoldering distast turning into a confused look at the sword in Erza's hand. She lifted the red and bronze sword, a bright flame igniting on the blade; the darkness was banished, even the sickly moonlight was pushed back under its blazing light. Smiling at her sword coming to her without issue, Erza swept it towards the beastmen.
For a moment the world was consumed by a flash of light and fire as the heat incinerated the drier wood right away, the stinky fur catching fire almost immediately. In moments muscles and skin were immolated, flesh boiling and the very bones of the beastmen cadavers melting away.
It only took a couple moments, maybe one or two seconds, but when she relented there was nothing left of the bodies but desolated land with what looked like molten earth where the fire had been most intense. Of the monsters she accidentally killed, there was only a couple charred bones remaining.
"Do beastmen take captives?"
Raffaelo had to close his eyes, blinking multiple times for his sight to properly return before he could respond, getting over the shock. "Excuse me?"
"You said before that my world was fortunate not to have things like skaven. There may be things worse than them however." Erza dismissed her sword, taking a moment to bask in the fire's warmth. "Truthfully, when I first saw these beastmen I thought they were monsters native to my home, called Vulcans. They take captives, female ones. You can assume why." She turned to face him. "Do beastmen do the same?"
"I… have heard stories of that. As rumors. Normally, the only reason a beastman would capture a prisoner is for a later snack. But every so often, there's a tall tale of a witch or an abducted woman being used for.. other purposes." He cleared his throat. "I should not speak of these matters. It is late, we have to go to Corno in the morning."
"Of course, I was simply curious." Erza nodded, turning back to the house. But not before sparing a look at the woods, wondering what was peering back at her.
Line break
Deep within a forest of Tilea, monsters dwelled.
The flesh let out one final cry as it was pushed onto the sacred stone, the green rock casting it's light on it already before it made contact.
Muscles bulged as it tried to break free from the Gors' hold, but the efforts amounted to nothing. Like all the prey that lived in the cities and lands outside of the forests it was weak, unable to contest the true rulers of the world. The true chosen of the Gods.
With a single kick of his hooves Ghurleth shattered its chin, stopping the flesh's pathetic struggle. Moving fast Ghurleth buried his ritual blade into it's chest, before tearing the still beating heart out with nothing but Ghurleth's bare hands.
Ghurleth let out a triumphant howl and swallowed it whole, the entire herd joining in, their cries drowning out the whimpers of those prey that still were off service to the tribe.
Even now Ghurleth felt the blood sacrifice channeling might into Ghurleth guts, growing Ghurleth even more, both physically and with the shamanic gifts that Ghurleth had been blessed with. Ghurleth's muscles bloated up even more and Ghurleth let out another scream, one of agony, not ecstasy this time.
Muscles and flesh expanded, bone grew and even Ghurleth's blessed horns massed on and on, shredding arteries, nerves and veins in the process. Internal injuries were afflicted that would have felled even a beastlord. For a long second, Ghurleth seemed to be on the verge of becoming a dreaded and pitiful Spawn.
But Ghurleth wasn't just some ordinary cloven one, not even one of the beastlord, Ghurleth was Ghurleth! Ghurleth was strong! Ghurleth had been chosen by the gods personally to bring down the vile and weak civilisations of the uncloven ones, be they furred or smoothskin.
Ghurleth maw gaped way open, vomiting a mass of blood as well as pieces of bone and teeth that had begun to fill Ghurleth's mouth. Ghurleth spewed a litany of chants, feeling how the great and awesome power of Ghurleth's patrons washed over Ghurleth's body, fixing the hideous harm that had been done and leaving only blessed growth.
A powerful roar swarmed over the encampment, cowing even the brainless minotaurs. Ghurleth's roar was not just a declaration of strength, but a promise made under the depraved light of the Chaos Moon: Ghurleth was strong, Ghurleth would vanquish all foes of the dark gods and clovenkind!
With a jab Ghurleth's stave stabbed into the dark forest, and the beastmen charged forth into the murky woods. Men feared it, as they should; the world didn't belong to them, and now it was time to remind the prey of their place. Ghurleth let out a baleful laugh at the center of the herd, going to enact the will of the gods.
A week ago, when Ghurleth had first received these new blessings of the gods, Gurluth had taught this to the uncloven ones. Back then Guhrleth had only commanded a small herd of beastmen, barely worthy of the name. But then the Gods had recognized Ghurleth's skill and might and had rewarded Ghurleth accordingly.
Ghurleth still remembered the way the uncloven ones that had clad themselves in armor had screamed as Ghurleth had engulfed them with his might. The dozen strongest and most worthy of the unworthy Ghurleth left alive, converting them into the true children of the forests. Newly cloven they had feasted on the unworthy ones they had foolishly protected so far, and Ghurleth had rewarded them for it.
Now that dozen stood amongst the hundreds of his ever growing tribe. They had, along with Ghurleth, ravaged the countryside these last days, their horde ever growing in the process, both by what meagre beastmen tribes there were in these lands joining Ghurleth and by the conversion and rutting of new ones.
But Ghurleth needed more. Even now Ghurleth didn't allow any hubris, Ghurleth needed numbers. More numbers. What broodmares he had would take moons to produce new forces. Luckily Ghurleth was smart. Ghurleth knew where he could get many new converts for Ghurleth's tribe.
With a roar and a single channeling of his might Ghurleth commanded hundreds of Ghurleths lesser brothers into a stampede.
Soon all uncloven ones would fear Ghurleth's might.
They did not need to go far to find new flesh. Ghurleth's scouts found a nest on their migration path, a new creation made sometime in the last moon. It was built by the hated pretenders, the rat-things; lowly creatures who spat on the gifts of the dark gods. Long have they held purchase on these lands, denying the birthright of their betters. Their lack of faith was compensated for by their foul machines, eagerly adopting the ways of civilization instead of relying on their own strength. No wonder they were so small and runty.
Before their trinkets had granted them boons over the beastmen, too powerful to face them and win. No more. Ghurleth now had the blessings to swat aside the pests.
Simpering cries arose all around Ghurleth's herd, followed by the whistles of the rat-thing's weapons. Many brays fell immediately, trampled underhoof or torn apart so their meat may yet provide to the herd. Ghurleth didn't particularly care, what mattered were the Gors; projectiles impacted off their hides, but the tiny things couldn't fell their roaring forms so easily.
The closer Ghurleth's host came to the rat-things' hovel the greater the resistance rose. More creatures emerged under the darkness, swords and spears and all kinds of civilized machines in their grubby paws, building orderly formations with squeaks and blows, instead of attacking as true children of Chaos. More Brays died, now some of the Ungors joined them.
The rat-things didn't realize they were already doomed; the first ranks of the vermind met Ghurleth's host, and promptly crumpled. So small and weak, even the Brays could easily crush them. Gors laughed and roared, sending blood flying with viscera every which way. Choicy bits of rat, what few there were, got snatched up from the ground or even out of the air, stuffed into slavering maws.
Ghurleth didn't let the herd take all the meat; one rat-thing in dark robes leapt off a tree at Ghurleth. It squeaked so pathetically when Ghurleth snatched it out of midair, snatching its neck in an iron grip. Without stopping Ghurleth brought the rat closer and chomped off its head, ripping it off to toss the rat to the Ungors, who themselves encouraged the minotaurs to charge.
Swallowing a lump of tasteless meat, Ghurleth bellowed, "Ghurleth demands prisoners!"
A snarl left Ghurleth's maw when the herd ignored the order. The Gors collided with the rat-things lines, smashing them apart as they deserved. Bodies flew, weapons broke, vermin died; in Ghurleth's heart there was joy at the destruction, eying a spindly metal watchtower fall in a heap, crushing several rats and a Bray with a tremendous crash. It was pleasing to Ghurleth, and thus to the gods. But if this kept up, Ghurleth's goal would go unfulfilled. The damned rats would replenish their losses while Ghurleth bled strength.
Grabbing a Gor by the neck, Ghurleth screamed in its face, "Prisoners!"
Around Ghurleth the 'battle' ended as swiftly as it began. Six to one odds would have meant a loss under normal conditions, a thousand rats obliterating Ghurleth's several hundred strong herd. Normally.
Now, Gors and Ungors wrestled a line of rats up in an uneven mess, hurting the struggling creatures. One rat bit a Gor's hand, earning a snarl before the beastmen ripped it in half. Elsewhere the rest of the herd destroyed the nest; anything that looked made was broken, anything that could be salvaged was taken. Gazing around, Ghurleth was pleased at the number of bodies; the herd would feast for days.
But first, Ghurleth had to dispense Ghurleth's gifts.
One rat was brought forth, its leather armor indicating a leader. Ghurleth snorted at it; the rat was too fragile to rely on its own strength, so it had to wear armor? Without it the flesh was no different than any others. Weak, small, and hissing at Ghurleth. This one would do.
Light collected in Ghurleth's paw, causing a deathly silence to settle over the observing herd. While not the first time they had witnessed the gift of the gods, they did not grow tired at seeing it again. Ghurleth was happy to demonstrate, as many times as necessary. Perhaps the rat was too? It was staring at the light with something resembling awe, or shock. Ghurleth didn't particularly care. Raising the glowing hand, the rat thrashed and struggled, helpless against the chuckling Gor's might.
With a grin Ghurleth pressed the hand against the rat's snout, and let the power flow. It screamed at the light engulfing its body, flesh twisting and tearing to Ghurleth's will; limbs extended, stubby horns popped up from its head, it grew taller. The flesh morphed from the sniveling rat into something more worthy of the dark gods.
A moment later the light vanished, Ghurleth lowering a hand fast enough that a shiver wasn't visible. In the Gor's hands the former rat slumped, collapsing after its support let go. A new Bray hit the dirt like a newborn, a small and weak one to be sure, but a proper beastman nonetheless. Swiftly kicking the weak Bray, Ghurleth roared again to meet the herd's triumphant cries.
Ghurleth swept towards the rest of the now thoroughly cowed prisoners, soon to be new members of Ghurleth's host. One down, many, many more to go.
AN:
Like always, immense credit goes to @Hapless Anon. Hope you enjoy the chapter
Chapter 6
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 6
It was approaching midday when the two of them reached Corno. Going by Raffaelo´s statements it would´ve usually taken them way longer to reach the settlement than that, but with monsters like these running around, speed was paramount as Erza had decided.
As such at seeing the slow speed the middle aged man and his mule had been moving, she had made for some unconventional travel methods to reach the town in time, should it be in danger. Namely, she had grabbed the priest right after he was done arming himself up and putting some supplies on the mule with one arm, packed the animal with the other, lifted them over her shoulder and then stormed off.
Raffealo hadn't been too pleased.
"What indignity." He muttered for the hundredth time since they left, red faced after being carried like a sack of grain for an hour. The mule bayed in agreement, sounding absolutely miserable; it protested being the rider to be sure, if not for her armor Erza would have a hoof shaped bruise on her forearm. Now it just bounced along to her jog, baying occasionally and swatting her in the face with its tail.
Cresting a hill, Erza slowed her jog slightly. Ahead a short distance was a smallish town with short walls and several plumes of smoke rising, too few to be under attack. She spotted a handful of gates, a far one letting out a short caravan while admitting another larger one. This had to be the place.
"Ah, have we arrived?" Raffaelo couldn't hide the sheer eagerness in his voice, he must be excited to be able to protect the helpless people of this town. What a truly courageous man.
"I believe so." Erza smiled, jogging ahead at her old speed. Which happened to be just under that of a galloping horse, she wanted to pace herself in case there was a fight ahead.
Approaching the main gate, Erza again slowed to listen in, but a man bellowing "Halt!" Earned her irritation. Frowning in frustration, she cut in front of a small wagon that was still a hundred paces away to go right up to some halberd equipped guards. They seemed tense, pointing weapons at them.
"Hello, is the town in danger?" She asked quickly, jostling her passengers. "We are here to defend it!" She announced loudly and clearly.
"What in Myrmidia's name…" one man gawked.
"Wait, hello." Erza growled, but swiveled so Raffaelo could speak to them face to face. He was still red faced, slumped over her shoulder but waving weakly. "Ah, hello, we are travelers, and my, ah, lady friend here is new to these parts. Is the, ah, city under attack?"
"…no?" one man's jaw hung open, earning a huff from Erza. Standards at this town had to be low.
"Ah, that's great. Is there an entry toll?" Raffaelo smiled with a strained cough, the mule snorting tiredly.
"Its, ug, one silver per head. Two for, uh, any animals. Normally we inspect for, um…" the guard paused to force his jaw shut. Now Erza felt some pity; he had to be new, replacement for a fallen guard most likely.
"Arg, here." Raffaelo reached up to snag a jostling bag off Ricardo, opening his purse strings to pour some clinking silver pieces into his cupped palm. His hand shook slightly as he offered the coins.
One guard nudged his counterpart, and with a sigh he crept closer, coughing after Erza started tapping her boot. The coins fell into his hand, a second later he returned one. "Ah, you overpaid."
"Thank you." Erza swung Raffaelo and Ricardo around, plucked the coin, and darted through the open gate. She only slowed to make sure the mule didn't smack its head off the grates, then carried on into the trade town of Corno.
Just ahead was a big Plaza, bustling with activity. Hundreds of people were crowding different market stalls large and small, permanent and temporary alike. Everything from tiny tents of handmade goods to a huge wagon carrying dozens of men and rows upon rows of goods.
"Come and get your pelts! Fine leather pelts for but a single silver." A hawker called.
"The finest spices are right here, a whole pack for only two silvers." A wealthier man carrying an assortment of exotic odds and ends waved at rows of vials.
Erza paused at one close knit wagon, where a group of short bearded men gathered with crates of glittering jewels and gold and other metals, from iron to copper.
"You lass, interested in the finest ore from Karak Kaferkammaz?" One stubby man asked her. "The finest metal in the whole region at a competitive price."
They were offering all kinds of things, but a whiff of something made Erza pause. Something warm, and baked, and… it had to be-
She was off in a full sprint, scaring her passengers in her haste. Erza shoved past traders and buyers, ignoring their cries and protests turning into shock, eyes narrowing at an actual shop. It was a permanent building at the edge of the plaza, with stalls set up outside. A salesperson was luring a customer closer, then he flinched when Erza shoved a woman aside to get right in his face.
"You, how much?" She demanded, swallowing a wad of saliva. For laid out in neat rows were large, cream encrusted, and freshly baked cakes. Sweet, delicious cakes ripe for eating.
The baker gawked. "Uh-"
Erza reached up and snagged a second bag next to Raffaelo's, containing some of the jewel she had on her. Her gauntlet shoved in his chest hard enough to jostle the baker.
"How much?" Erza loomed, radiating hunger and declining patience.
"I, ah, don't know what this-"
"You want silver? Fine, how much?" Erza's voice rose, making him shrink back.
"A-a-a s-silver apiece! Take what you want!" He wailed, his eyes widening as he looked at the coins.
"Wait, Miss Sca-" Raffaelo grunted as she snagged his coin purse, yanking it free to shove at the baker. Finally Erza set down her charges, or dropped them in Ricardo's case, the mule braying indignantly at her rough plopping. Raffaelo collapsed with a cry, falling onto his stomach.
The coin purse felt heavy, there had to be many silver coins in there. And the baker did say she could take whatever she hungered for. But which to choose? There were so many; ones that looked like strawberry toppings, some blueberries, others were positively exotic. Erza couldn't decide!
Erza darted to the middle of the stall and picked up the whole thing, her eyes flashing with mortal terror when a cake threatened to drop. "I'll return this."
The baker let his jaw hit the ground even as he cowered, he must've doubted her intent.
"You have my word I will return your stall. In due time." Erza patted her armor with a clenched fist, approving of his slow nod.
"Wait, Miss Scarlet-" Raffaelo reached for her, but Erza was already stuffing her face. A child gawked at her, looking at her cakes with obvious hunger, then ran away screaming when she glared; this was her cake!
She chomped on one and squealed in delight; it was downright heavenly! The moistness, the texture, and the taste, it was exquisite! Oh, she could taste out the honey, the carefully laced flour, the cream! It´s been ages since she last ate something properly sweet! When it was gone she licked her fingers despondently, missing that amazing cake already. Her hungry gaze turned to the rest of the stall, where more awaited.
Each cake was devoured, each person who came too close got a taste of her glare. Including the baker, who came closer with a question, but her newest chomp scared him off. A crowd was beginning to gather around her, but so long as nobody took a cake she didn't mind.
She was so enchanted by her treats that a troupe of marching guards met the usual warding glare, increasing in hostility when they flinched yet stood their ground. They seemed upset, well tough; she paid for these cakes.
"It seems as if someone is eating without paying."
Her chewing slowed, spotting a man weaving through the guards towards her. Upon clearing their ranks she took a moment to examine him; short black hair, brown eyes, a long scar below his left eye, a nobleman grade trousers and jacket, and a hilted saber on his hip. A lord of this town perhaps. He smiled warmly as she devoured another delicious pastry.
"There was a disturbance reported, of a fearsome ogre woman who stole from a baker. You're a little short to be an ogre however." He elaborated; big talk for someone who was shorter than her, confirmed when she stood up.
"Is there a problem? I paid for this food." She frowned, grabbing another cake.
He smiled, but his teeth were gritted. "Good sir, how many coins are in that purse?"
"Fifteen." Raffaelo shoved forward, though a guard blocked him. "My sincerest apologies, I didn't mean for this to-"
"Fifteen? These cakes go for a silver apiece, and you seem to… have eaten more than that." The noble's power of observation was skilled.
His eyes flickered between the cakes, the more than a little intimidated baker and her.
"These cakes were intended for the big entrance ceremony of my caravan in migrolino." He blinked at her. "You…. actually ate all of them." He actually sounded equally horrified and impressed at that. "And you don't have enough money here to pay for them." A grin began to form on his face.
"Not arriving with them will certainly cause some damage to my profits. Will you make it up to me?"
"How so?" Erza finished her last treat. If he had some manual labor to do then so be it, this wouldn't be the first time she did some work to make up for her expenses.
"Well then…" he fetched a much larger coin purse and handed it over to the baker, without bothering to count. "Would you accompany me lady…"
"Scarlet, Erza Scarlet. You are?" She turned around.
"Emanuello Bianchi, of the Bianchi family of Verazzo." He looked like he was awaiting some reaction from her, and was puzzled for a moment when there was none. "Your name fits you like a rose on the plains."
"Thank you, that's kind." Erza nodded, glancing at Raffaelo; he looked worried. "May I ask how long this make-work will take? I don't want to keep Father Grimaldi waiting for too long, we are here on business."
"Oh don´t worry, I´m sure nothing´s going to happen. I just want to talk." He raised his arms in a disarming motion, sending her a smile.
"Hang on just a moment." Raffaelo protested as the guards held him back.
"It'll be alright father Grimaldi, its just a talk." Erza followed Emanuello as he turned to leave, waving off him trying to take ahold of her hand. While it may have been rude to defy the customs of this land, she was already in trouble. And her hands were filthy with crumbs and leftover cream, a loving reminder of that delicious cake feast.
"So then Lady Scarlet, what place do you hail from that has such beauty?" Emanuello smiled.
"The Kingdom of Fiore, I call Magnolia home. It certainly is a lovely place, the flowers there are in bloom." Erza frowned as she recalled her home. "I mean no disrespect to your town, but it simply doesn't compare to Magnolia."
"Ah, it sounds like a wonderful place." Emanuello nodded with his smile; she thought she heard a mutter from a guard. "Though, my town?" He laughed. "You´re a little bit wrong there. I´m just the head of this little caravan here." He gestured at a line of wagons, fancy ones with plenty of guards and even more wares.
"Oh, my apologies. You looked like a nobleman, I assumed this was your settlement." Erza bowed.
"It is alright. I can't be upset at such a minor mistake, especially for someone who isn't from around here." He led her to a house that was significantly larger and more luxurious than the others. She followed, wondering what work he wanted her to do.
AN:
So, new chapter, hope you enjoy
It was approaching midday when the two of them reached Corno. Going by Raffaelo´s statements it would´ve usually taken them way longer to reach the settlement than that, but with monsters like these running around, speed was paramount as Erza had decided.
As such at seeing the slow speed the middle aged man and his mule had been moving, she had made for some unconventional travel methods to reach the town in time, should it be in danger. Namely, she had grabbed the priest right after he was done arming himself up and putting some supplies on the mule with one arm, packed the animal with the other, lifted them over her shoulder and then stormed off.
Raffealo hadn't been too pleased.
"What indignity." He muttered for the hundredth time since they left, red faced after being carried like a sack of grain for an hour. The mule bayed in agreement, sounding absolutely miserable; it protested being the rider to be sure, if not for her armor Erza would have a hoof shaped bruise on her forearm. Now it just bounced along to her jog, baying occasionally and swatting her in the face with its tail.
Cresting a hill, Erza slowed her jog slightly. Ahead a short distance was a smallish town with short walls and several plumes of smoke rising, too few to be under attack. She spotted a handful of gates, a far one letting out a short caravan while admitting another larger one. This had to be the place.
"Ah, have we arrived?" Raffaelo couldn't hide the sheer eagerness in his voice, he must be excited to be able to protect the helpless people of this town. What a truly courageous man.
"I believe so." Erza smiled, jogging ahead at her old speed. Which happened to be just under that of a galloping horse, she wanted to pace herself in case there was a fight ahead.
Approaching the main gate, Erza again slowed to listen in, but a man bellowing "Halt!" Earned her irritation. Frowning in frustration, she cut in front of a small wagon that was still a hundred paces away to go right up to some halberd equipped guards. They seemed tense, pointing weapons at them.
"Hello, is the town in danger?" She asked quickly, jostling her passengers. "We are here to defend it!" She announced loudly and clearly.
"What in Myrmidia's name…" one man gawked.
"Wait, hello." Erza growled, but swiveled so Raffaelo could speak to them face to face. He was still red faced, slumped over her shoulder but waving weakly. "Ah, hello, we are travelers, and my, ah, lady friend here is new to these parts. Is the, ah, city under attack?"
"…no?" one man's jaw hung open, earning a huff from Erza. Standards at this town had to be low.
"Ah, that's great. Is there an entry toll?" Raffaelo smiled with a strained cough, the mule snorting tiredly.
"Its, ug, one silver per head. Two for, uh, any animals. Normally we inspect for, um…" the guard paused to force his jaw shut. Now Erza felt some pity; he had to be new, replacement for a fallen guard most likely.
"Arg, here." Raffaelo reached up to snag a jostling bag off Ricardo, opening his purse strings to pour some clinking silver pieces into his cupped palm. His hand shook slightly as he offered the coins.
One guard nudged his counterpart, and with a sigh he crept closer, coughing after Erza started tapping her boot. The coins fell into his hand, a second later he returned one. "Ah, you overpaid."
"Thank you." Erza swung Raffaelo and Ricardo around, plucked the coin, and darted through the open gate. She only slowed to make sure the mule didn't smack its head off the grates, then carried on into the trade town of Corno.
Just ahead was a big Plaza, bustling with activity. Hundreds of people were crowding different market stalls large and small, permanent and temporary alike. Everything from tiny tents of handmade goods to a huge wagon carrying dozens of men and rows upon rows of goods.
"Come and get your pelts! Fine leather pelts for but a single silver." A hawker called.
"The finest spices are right here, a whole pack for only two silvers." A wealthier man carrying an assortment of exotic odds and ends waved at rows of vials.
Erza paused at one close knit wagon, where a group of short bearded men gathered with crates of glittering jewels and gold and other metals, from iron to copper.
"You lass, interested in the finest ore from Karak Kaferkammaz?" One stubby man asked her. "The finest metal in the whole region at a competitive price."
They were offering all kinds of things, but a whiff of something made Erza pause. Something warm, and baked, and… it had to be-
She was off in a full sprint, scaring her passengers in her haste. Erza shoved past traders and buyers, ignoring their cries and protests turning into shock, eyes narrowing at an actual shop. It was a permanent building at the edge of the plaza, with stalls set up outside. A salesperson was luring a customer closer, then he flinched when Erza shoved a woman aside to get right in his face.
"You, how much?" She demanded, swallowing a wad of saliva. For laid out in neat rows were large, cream encrusted, and freshly baked cakes. Sweet, delicious cakes ripe for eating.
The baker gawked. "Uh-"
Erza reached up and snagged a second bag next to Raffaelo's, containing some of the jewel she had on her. Her gauntlet shoved in his chest hard enough to jostle the baker.
"How much?" Erza loomed, radiating hunger and declining patience.
"I, ah, don't know what this-"
"You want silver? Fine, how much?" Erza's voice rose, making him shrink back.
"A-a-a s-silver apiece! Take what you want!" He wailed, his eyes widening as he looked at the coins.
"Wait, Miss Sca-" Raffaelo grunted as she snagged his coin purse, yanking it free to shove at the baker. Finally Erza set down her charges, or dropped them in Ricardo's case, the mule braying indignantly at her rough plopping. Raffaelo collapsed with a cry, falling onto his stomach.
The coin purse felt heavy, there had to be many silver coins in there. And the baker did say she could take whatever she hungered for. But which to choose? There were so many; ones that looked like strawberry toppings, some blueberries, others were positively exotic. Erza couldn't decide!
Erza darted to the middle of the stall and picked up the whole thing, her eyes flashing with mortal terror when a cake threatened to drop. "I'll return this."
The baker let his jaw hit the ground even as he cowered, he must've doubted her intent.
"You have my word I will return your stall. In due time." Erza patted her armor with a clenched fist, approving of his slow nod.
"Wait, Miss Scarlet-" Raffaelo reached for her, but Erza was already stuffing her face. A child gawked at her, looking at her cakes with obvious hunger, then ran away screaming when she glared; this was her cake!
She chomped on one and squealed in delight; it was downright heavenly! The moistness, the texture, and the taste, it was exquisite! Oh, she could taste out the honey, the carefully laced flour, the cream! It´s been ages since she last ate something properly sweet! When it was gone she licked her fingers despondently, missing that amazing cake already. Her hungry gaze turned to the rest of the stall, where more awaited.
Each cake was devoured, each person who came too close got a taste of her glare. Including the baker, who came closer with a question, but her newest chomp scared him off. A crowd was beginning to gather around her, but so long as nobody took a cake she didn't mind.
She was so enchanted by her treats that a troupe of marching guards met the usual warding glare, increasing in hostility when they flinched yet stood their ground. They seemed upset, well tough; she paid for these cakes.
"It seems as if someone is eating without paying."
Her chewing slowed, spotting a man weaving through the guards towards her. Upon clearing their ranks she took a moment to examine him; short black hair, brown eyes, a long scar below his left eye, a nobleman grade trousers and jacket, and a hilted saber on his hip. A lord of this town perhaps. He smiled warmly as she devoured another delicious pastry.
"There was a disturbance reported, of a fearsome ogre woman who stole from a baker. You're a little short to be an ogre however." He elaborated; big talk for someone who was shorter than her, confirmed when she stood up.
"Is there a problem? I paid for this food." She frowned, grabbing another cake.
He smiled, but his teeth were gritted. "Good sir, how many coins are in that purse?"
"Fifteen." Raffaelo shoved forward, though a guard blocked him. "My sincerest apologies, I didn't mean for this to-"
"Fifteen? These cakes go for a silver apiece, and you seem to… have eaten more than that." The noble's power of observation was skilled.
His eyes flickered between the cakes, the more than a little intimidated baker and her.
"These cakes were intended for the big entrance ceremony of my caravan in migrolino." He blinked at her. "You…. actually ate all of them." He actually sounded equally horrified and impressed at that. "And you don't have enough money here to pay for them." A grin began to form on his face.
"Not arriving with them will certainly cause some damage to my profits. Will you make it up to me?"
"How so?" Erza finished her last treat. If he had some manual labor to do then so be it, this wouldn't be the first time she did some work to make up for her expenses.
"Well then…" he fetched a much larger coin purse and handed it over to the baker, without bothering to count. "Would you accompany me lady…"
"Scarlet, Erza Scarlet. You are?" She turned around.
"Emanuello Bianchi, of the Bianchi family of Verazzo." He looked like he was awaiting some reaction from her, and was puzzled for a moment when there was none. "Your name fits you like a rose on the plains."
"Thank you, that's kind." Erza nodded, glancing at Raffaelo; he looked worried. "May I ask how long this make-work will take? I don't want to keep Father Grimaldi waiting for too long, we are here on business."
"Oh don´t worry, I´m sure nothing´s going to happen. I just want to talk." He raised his arms in a disarming motion, sending her a smile.
"Hang on just a moment." Raffaelo protested as the guards held him back.
"It'll be alright father Grimaldi, its just a talk." Erza followed Emanuello as he turned to leave, waving off him trying to take ahold of her hand. While it may have been rude to defy the customs of this land, she was already in trouble. And her hands were filthy with crumbs and leftover cream, a loving reminder of that delicious cake feast.
"So then Lady Scarlet, what place do you hail from that has such beauty?" Emanuello smiled.
"The Kingdom of Fiore, I call Magnolia home. It certainly is a lovely place, the flowers there are in bloom." Erza frowned as she recalled her home. "I mean no disrespect to your town, but it simply doesn't compare to Magnolia."
"Ah, it sounds like a wonderful place." Emanuello nodded with his smile; she thought she heard a mutter from a guard. "Though, my town?" He laughed. "You´re a little bit wrong there. I´m just the head of this little caravan here." He gestured at a line of wagons, fancy ones with plenty of guards and even more wares.
"Oh, my apologies. You looked like a nobleman, I assumed this was your settlement." Erza bowed.
"It is alright. I can't be upset at such a minor mistake, especially for someone who isn't from around here." He led her to a house that was significantly larger and more luxurious than the others. She followed, wondering what work he wanted her to do.
AN:
So, new chapter, hope you enjoy
chapter 7
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 7
"So may I ask what does a radiant and delicate Rose like you do in a town like this?" The noble began the conversation as he led Erza through the house, dismissing the many servants that rushed in to greet him.
"There were beastmen scouts at my companion's home, I came to warn the townsfolk of a potentially large warherd, as he called it." Erza replied with some impatience. Her hunger for sweets had distracted her from the task, there was no time to dally. Also did he just call her a delicate flower? Maybe her previous assessment of his observation skill had been erroneous.
"Is that so? Beastmen are rare around these parts but they are far from unheard of. Are you certain?" He actually straightened up at the mention of the threat. "How did they look like? How many were there?"
"I saw two, Father Grimaldi claimed they were a vanguard." Erza answered, eyeing her surroundings. The opening foyer seemed to be rather tacky by her standards; huge paintings lined the walls, a third were of him. Cases of gold and jeweled trinkets were set up on pedestals, gaudy things that seemed to only exist to show off how much money the owner had. Beyond was a 'living room' as she thought of it, with fine upholstery that was colored in reds and blues, with some green for a slight change. All of it looked tremendously expensive.
Passing by a couple servants, Erza took a second to admire the clean clothes the women had, black outfits with white aprons and tops, their caps hiding their hair. The two moved with graceful haste, professional in how they started cleaning the furniture with a close eye for detail. A man in a bright orange uniform and a strange hat of the same colour carried a gleaming platter towards another room offering some form of grilled meat, barely the size of a small pig, sliced into thin stripes. Her mouth watered when a whiff of bubbling honey reached her nose.
"Take as much as you want, the food here Was prepared by the Best cooks money can get you." The man himself took a slice and gnawed at it, gesturing at her to mirror him. Erza took two and chomped, squeeing at the delicious flavor.
"It's fantastic! What is this?" She only barely stopped herself from taking more.
"Some beast imported from araby. It's quite difficult to catch but that makes it only more of a treat." As Emanuello ate he gestured for the servant to come closer, before whispering something into his ear. The butler simply nodded before moving away in all haste.
Emanuello veered towards a room that looked like a study, where another servant dutifully came to meet them, carrying the plate of the first. This one looked decidedly younger, his brown hair a strong contrast to the former greyness. Like the older man however, he was as silent and disciplined as the rest, though he stared at her longer than necessary. Erza glanced down, wondering how often his master took in armored guests.
Unlike the rest of the mansion, the study was so bare that Erza briefly wondered if she entered the wrong room: there were bookcases, a cluttered desk, and a handful of chairs with a couch, but everything was so much more humble than outside.
"Surprised? The ostentatiousness is to impress my guests, here is where I actually work." Emanuello explained, gesturing at a seat. "Please, sit. Your feet must be sore after your long journey."
"I'm well enough, thank you." Erza turned when the younger butler returned, carrying a plate with a bottle and two glasses resting on top.
"Nonsense. Traveling all this way with your father, carrying around that heavy armor, surely your politeness must not extend that far." He smiled warmly.
"Well… alright." She decided he meant well enough, it'd be rude to turn him down. Why did he say she came here with her father? Was he alright?
Taking a seat, the butler placed the platter on a small table between them and poured two glasses of red fluid, a sniff confirming it was wine. Emanuello nodded to dismiss the butler, ending his wide eyed staring. Like she expected of a noble he made a big show of taking a whiff of the wine.
"Ah, perfect. This is a rare chatelle vintage from Bretonnia, its over twenty years old. Its quite difficult to acquire at the best of times, demand far outstrips supply. It is said this is favored among ambitious nobles from that nation." He swirled the cup.
"It sounds good." Erza took a cup and sipped, bracing herself: to her relief it didn't taste like pond water as normally super aged wines tended to be. In fact it was quite sweet as wines go.
Erza drank more, savoring the taste; She was usually not supposed to drink any alcohol, her friends told her she became strange whenever she did. Why she did not know, she couldn't quite remember the last time. She just remembered that something had caused lucy to go sick, whenever she looked at her face had gone terribly red. She also refused to speak of her for days. Not to mention that Mira had been horribly smug for some reason.
Oh well, a sip or two couldn't hurt, what was the worst that could happen?
"Only the finest for such a lovely flower as yourself. I wonder, are all women from Fiore as stunning as you?" Emanullo shifted in his seat, observing her.
"Not by far, a lot are much prettier." Erza thought of Mirajane when she said that, wishing she were here too. She would keep him busy while she sampled the wine, pouring herself another glass and ignoring him trying to reach for her; she could get more herself.
"Oh really? I find that hard to believe given your appearance. Please, there's no need to be so modest." Emanullo waved off, having not even finished his first glass.
"Its the truth. Just like the threat to Corno." Erza remembered with a frown. "Have you sent word to warn the town?"
"As we are speaking Carlos is contacting the town guard. He's the servant from before. Though I feel you're overreacting, your father struggling against two beastmen does not mean the guard or the local mercenaries will face the same trouble. And anything they can't handle Skeerig and his clan will take care off." He outlined. "They are a dawi throng from one of the holds my father has a trade treaty with." He quickly expanded, seeing her confused face. "He delivered them many large caravans of food and ale when the accursed skaven poisoned and consumed their supplies. Since them they consider themselves into our debt and send their warriors to protect our caravans."
He showed a smug smile, undoubtedly remembering some fond memory. "Many of the trinkets and statues in the entrances were made of dawi artisans, in fact."
"Nevertheless." Erza drained her third cup and thought for a second; he still hadn't finished his first glass, and he did look somewhat surprised at the sheer speed she was dumping them down. Was she seeing a flash of slight concern into his eyes? Nah, she wouldn´t know why.
This stuff was really sweet, not as sweet as strawberry cake, but still good. Nothing like the bitter stuff Cana usually gulped down. Oh, she was actually starting to get a bit lightheaded. Best she'd stop after two or three more glasses. She decided on the latter as she downed another cup.
"Please, have no fear. The warriors of Tilea are impressive the world over, and dwarven throngs impress the Tileans. There's nothing to worry about." His expression twitched, Erza thought he did anyway. She was feeling woozy, another glass of wine should help. "Um, Miss Scarlet, are you…"
"Huh? Oh I'm fine." Draining the… second? Yes, second cup with a gulp, Erza slammed the fancy glass on the table, somehow avoiding smashing it. "Why aren't you *hic* taking this seriously?"
"I-I am. Calm down lady Erza." He was more than a bit twitchy just now.
"Calm down? How *hic* can I when you are sitting around?" Erza growled, weaving from side to side in her seat. "Those foul vulcans are *hic* amassing right now, or, whatever they are. Beastmen. Whatever."
Jolting to her feet, Erza immediately lost her balance; swinging her arms wildly, she flailed as she threatened to tip over at the slightest twitch. For a split second she started falling with a cry, only to be stopped from a helpful gauntlet grabbing the chair for stability. She thanked that mystery person as she let go of the chair, shoving past the table while Emanuello quickly rose to his feet.
"I shall, woah, ah, I will deal with those monsters, as a *hic* Fairy Tail wizard." Erza slurred, stumbling towards the door.
"Wait, Lady Erza!" Emanuello was pancicking. "Please, sit down! And be careful of that!" He warned her of a large glass statue, shaped to look like a map of Tilea. "Its very-"
Thunk. *crash*
"-fragile." He gawked at her throwing the doors open.
Another orange clad guard blocked her path. "Lady Erza, I can't let you leave while inebriated-"
Thunk. He hit the floor a second later on his back, his chin already starting to swell. Erza blearily groaned, wondering what was wrong with him. She didn't punch him that hard, was there something wrong with her hand? With a snarl she swung in irritation, hitting something else; when she turned she saw no one, so with a shrug she tripped over a foot and staggered into the hallway.
"Oh no, by blessed myrmidia, what did you do?!" Turning her head, Erza beheld a maid gawking in place, having dropped a plate of… pastries! Delectable sweets, splattered against the ground.
She recoiled in horror, then her rage grew. "You…"
"Wait, wait! Please don't-" the maid tried to back away.
Erza lurched towards her, bumping another fancy statue to crash it into the ground. Ignoring the crunching rock under her boots, she grinned lecherously as she raised her hands, making grabby motions at the maid, who was on the verge of screaming.
"I, *hic* shall punish you." Erza heaved, weaving from one wall to the other towards her victim. "Deep, severe pun-"
Thunk.
Erza hit the floor in a pile of wine smelling armor, twitching once before groaning. In just seconds she was starting to snore, blissfully unaware of the lump on the back of her head.
Breathing heavily, Emanuello lowered the ceremonial golden mace he once bought from a Dawi Hold. It was nearly bent in half, the sculpted top now flattened with a slight curve, as if it was moulded to her skull. Gulping in fear, he ignored the incredible pain in his chin ame checked to make sure how injured he was. Reaching down he felt up through her red main, seeking for the hole he had surely caved into her skull.
There was nothing, not even a little bruise? It was like she just passed out instead of getting her head split open! How-? Wait, she had mentioned that she was a witch? Could it be? It would explain her incredible beauty and voluptuous body; had he accidentally let in an agent of the fell gods? He had merely heard of them in the works of Detlef Sierck that his father had forced him onto with numerous different rich merchant princes, daughters and foreign nobles. Works about that dreaded monster a Coung once slew, one sworn to dark powers.
"My lord!" Was the announcement of several armed guards rushing up, decked out in full armor and weapons, one even carrying an Empire made pistol that he aimed at the snoring witch.
"I'm alright. See to Marchio's injuries. As for… her." Emanuello grimaced. "Lady Erza is under arrest for suspicion of witchcraft. Bind her in the strongest chains the town has, something not even an ogre can break out of. Strip her of all belongings, clothes, necklaces, whatever. Check her whole body for any strange signs and report them to me."
The guard's eyes fell on the witch and grinned lecherously. He for one simply groaned and put the half bend mace under his chin. "Do not indulge yourself in her. Myrmidia alone knows how their ill-begotten kin's corruption spreads. If you do so, I will cut you down myself!"
For a moment he contemplated doing so anyway, before shaking his head. Who knew what plot they had conspired too. Were there really beastmen here? Had they simply been a distraction? A conspiracy? No, there was too much unknown to act too hastily here.
"And get her father as well!" By the goddess, the man would regret imitating a faithful servant of Myrmidia dearly! "Ready the guards, both of the caravan and the town! I fear we all are in great danger!"
Goddess, why hadn't he just kept his hands off the pretty woman?
AN:
Chapter 7 is done. Even managed to bring it out on a borderline acceptable timescale. Yay me!
Please, tell me what you all think of it, what you liked and what you didn´t and enjoy your day.
"So may I ask what does a radiant and delicate Rose like you do in a town like this?" The noble began the conversation as he led Erza through the house, dismissing the many servants that rushed in to greet him.
"There were beastmen scouts at my companion's home, I came to warn the townsfolk of a potentially large warherd, as he called it." Erza replied with some impatience. Her hunger for sweets had distracted her from the task, there was no time to dally. Also did he just call her a delicate flower? Maybe her previous assessment of his observation skill had been erroneous.
"Is that so? Beastmen are rare around these parts but they are far from unheard of. Are you certain?" He actually straightened up at the mention of the threat. "How did they look like? How many were there?"
"I saw two, Father Grimaldi claimed they were a vanguard." Erza answered, eyeing her surroundings. The opening foyer seemed to be rather tacky by her standards; huge paintings lined the walls, a third were of him. Cases of gold and jeweled trinkets were set up on pedestals, gaudy things that seemed to only exist to show off how much money the owner had. Beyond was a 'living room' as she thought of it, with fine upholstery that was colored in reds and blues, with some green for a slight change. All of it looked tremendously expensive.
Passing by a couple servants, Erza took a second to admire the clean clothes the women had, black outfits with white aprons and tops, their caps hiding their hair. The two moved with graceful haste, professional in how they started cleaning the furniture with a close eye for detail. A man in a bright orange uniform and a strange hat of the same colour carried a gleaming platter towards another room offering some form of grilled meat, barely the size of a small pig, sliced into thin stripes. Her mouth watered when a whiff of bubbling honey reached her nose.
"Take as much as you want, the food here Was prepared by the Best cooks money can get you." The man himself took a slice and gnawed at it, gesturing at her to mirror him. Erza took two and chomped, squeeing at the delicious flavor.
"It's fantastic! What is this?" She only barely stopped herself from taking more.
"Some beast imported from araby. It's quite difficult to catch but that makes it only more of a treat." As Emanuello ate he gestured for the servant to come closer, before whispering something into his ear. The butler simply nodded before moving away in all haste.
Emanuello veered towards a room that looked like a study, where another servant dutifully came to meet them, carrying the plate of the first. This one looked decidedly younger, his brown hair a strong contrast to the former greyness. Like the older man however, he was as silent and disciplined as the rest, though he stared at her longer than necessary. Erza glanced down, wondering how often his master took in armored guests.
Unlike the rest of the mansion, the study was so bare that Erza briefly wondered if she entered the wrong room: there were bookcases, a cluttered desk, and a handful of chairs with a couch, but everything was so much more humble than outside.
"Surprised? The ostentatiousness is to impress my guests, here is where I actually work." Emanuello explained, gesturing at a seat. "Please, sit. Your feet must be sore after your long journey."
"I'm well enough, thank you." Erza turned when the younger butler returned, carrying a plate with a bottle and two glasses resting on top.
"Nonsense. Traveling all this way with your father, carrying around that heavy armor, surely your politeness must not extend that far." He smiled warmly.
"Well… alright." She decided he meant well enough, it'd be rude to turn him down. Why did he say she came here with her father? Was he alright?
Taking a seat, the butler placed the platter on a small table between them and poured two glasses of red fluid, a sniff confirming it was wine. Emanuello nodded to dismiss the butler, ending his wide eyed staring. Like she expected of a noble he made a big show of taking a whiff of the wine.
"Ah, perfect. This is a rare chatelle vintage from Bretonnia, its over twenty years old. Its quite difficult to acquire at the best of times, demand far outstrips supply. It is said this is favored among ambitious nobles from that nation." He swirled the cup.
"It sounds good." Erza took a cup and sipped, bracing herself: to her relief it didn't taste like pond water as normally super aged wines tended to be. In fact it was quite sweet as wines go.
Erza drank more, savoring the taste; She was usually not supposed to drink any alcohol, her friends told her she became strange whenever she did. Why she did not know, she couldn't quite remember the last time. She just remembered that something had caused lucy to go sick, whenever she looked at her face had gone terribly red. She also refused to speak of her for days. Not to mention that Mira had been horribly smug for some reason.
Oh well, a sip or two couldn't hurt, what was the worst that could happen?
"Only the finest for such a lovely flower as yourself. I wonder, are all women from Fiore as stunning as you?" Emanullo shifted in his seat, observing her.
"Not by far, a lot are much prettier." Erza thought of Mirajane when she said that, wishing she were here too. She would keep him busy while she sampled the wine, pouring herself another glass and ignoring him trying to reach for her; she could get more herself.
"Oh really? I find that hard to believe given your appearance. Please, there's no need to be so modest." Emanullo waved off, having not even finished his first glass.
"Its the truth. Just like the threat to Corno." Erza remembered with a frown. "Have you sent word to warn the town?"
"As we are speaking Carlos is contacting the town guard. He's the servant from before. Though I feel you're overreacting, your father struggling against two beastmen does not mean the guard or the local mercenaries will face the same trouble. And anything they can't handle Skeerig and his clan will take care off." He outlined. "They are a dawi throng from one of the holds my father has a trade treaty with." He quickly expanded, seeing her confused face. "He delivered them many large caravans of food and ale when the accursed skaven poisoned and consumed their supplies. Since them they consider themselves into our debt and send their warriors to protect our caravans."
He showed a smug smile, undoubtedly remembering some fond memory. "Many of the trinkets and statues in the entrances were made of dawi artisans, in fact."
"Nevertheless." Erza drained her third cup and thought for a second; he still hadn't finished his first glass, and he did look somewhat surprised at the sheer speed she was dumping them down. Was she seeing a flash of slight concern into his eyes? Nah, she wouldn´t know why.
This stuff was really sweet, not as sweet as strawberry cake, but still good. Nothing like the bitter stuff Cana usually gulped down. Oh, she was actually starting to get a bit lightheaded. Best she'd stop after two or three more glasses. She decided on the latter as she downed another cup.
"Please, have no fear. The warriors of Tilea are impressive the world over, and dwarven throngs impress the Tileans. There's nothing to worry about." His expression twitched, Erza thought he did anyway. She was feeling woozy, another glass of wine should help. "Um, Miss Scarlet, are you…"
"Huh? Oh I'm fine." Draining the… second? Yes, second cup with a gulp, Erza slammed the fancy glass on the table, somehow avoiding smashing it. "Why aren't you *hic* taking this seriously?"
"I-I am. Calm down lady Erza." He was more than a bit twitchy just now.
"Calm down? How *hic* can I when you are sitting around?" Erza growled, weaving from side to side in her seat. "Those foul vulcans are *hic* amassing right now, or, whatever they are. Beastmen. Whatever."
Jolting to her feet, Erza immediately lost her balance; swinging her arms wildly, she flailed as she threatened to tip over at the slightest twitch. For a split second she started falling with a cry, only to be stopped from a helpful gauntlet grabbing the chair for stability. She thanked that mystery person as she let go of the chair, shoving past the table while Emanuello quickly rose to his feet.
"I shall, woah, ah, I will deal with those monsters, as a *hic* Fairy Tail wizard." Erza slurred, stumbling towards the door.
"Wait, Lady Erza!" Emanuello was pancicking. "Please, sit down! And be careful of that!" He warned her of a large glass statue, shaped to look like a map of Tilea. "Its very-"
Thunk. *crash*
"-fragile." He gawked at her throwing the doors open.
Another orange clad guard blocked her path. "Lady Erza, I can't let you leave while inebriated-"
Thunk. He hit the floor a second later on his back, his chin already starting to swell. Erza blearily groaned, wondering what was wrong with him. She didn't punch him that hard, was there something wrong with her hand? With a snarl she swung in irritation, hitting something else; when she turned she saw no one, so with a shrug she tripped over a foot and staggered into the hallway.
"Oh no, by blessed myrmidia, what did you do?!" Turning her head, Erza beheld a maid gawking in place, having dropped a plate of… pastries! Delectable sweets, splattered against the ground.
She recoiled in horror, then her rage grew. "You…"
"Wait, wait! Please don't-" the maid tried to back away.
Erza lurched towards her, bumping another fancy statue to crash it into the ground. Ignoring the crunching rock under her boots, she grinned lecherously as she raised her hands, making grabby motions at the maid, who was on the verge of screaming.
"I, *hic* shall punish you." Erza heaved, weaving from one wall to the other towards her victim. "Deep, severe pun-"
Thunk.
Erza hit the floor in a pile of wine smelling armor, twitching once before groaning. In just seconds she was starting to snore, blissfully unaware of the lump on the back of her head.
Breathing heavily, Emanuello lowered the ceremonial golden mace he once bought from a Dawi Hold. It was nearly bent in half, the sculpted top now flattened with a slight curve, as if it was moulded to her skull. Gulping in fear, he ignored the incredible pain in his chin ame checked to make sure how injured he was. Reaching down he felt up through her red main, seeking for the hole he had surely caved into her skull.
There was nothing, not even a little bruise? It was like she just passed out instead of getting her head split open! How-? Wait, she had mentioned that she was a witch? Could it be? It would explain her incredible beauty and voluptuous body; had he accidentally let in an agent of the fell gods? He had merely heard of them in the works of Detlef Sierck that his father had forced him onto with numerous different rich merchant princes, daughters and foreign nobles. Works about that dreaded monster a Coung once slew, one sworn to dark powers.
"My lord!" Was the announcement of several armed guards rushing up, decked out in full armor and weapons, one even carrying an Empire made pistol that he aimed at the snoring witch.
"I'm alright. See to Marchio's injuries. As for… her." Emanuello grimaced. "Lady Erza is under arrest for suspicion of witchcraft. Bind her in the strongest chains the town has, something not even an ogre can break out of. Strip her of all belongings, clothes, necklaces, whatever. Check her whole body for any strange signs and report them to me."
The guard's eyes fell on the witch and grinned lecherously. He for one simply groaned and put the half bend mace under his chin. "Do not indulge yourself in her. Myrmidia alone knows how their ill-begotten kin's corruption spreads. If you do so, I will cut you down myself!"
For a moment he contemplated doing so anyway, before shaking his head. Who knew what plot they had conspired too. Were there really beastmen here? Had they simply been a distraction? A conspiracy? No, there was too much unknown to act too hastily here.
"And get her father as well!" By the goddess, the man would regret imitating a faithful servant of Myrmidia dearly! "Ready the guards, both of the caravan and the town! I fear we all are in great danger!"
Goddess, why hadn't he just kept his hands off the pretty woman?
AN:
Chapter 7 is done. Even managed to bring it out on a borderline acceptable timescale. Yay me!
Please, tell me what you all think of it, what you liked and what you didn´t and enjoy your day.
Chapter 8
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 8
When Erza awoke she couldn´t help but led out a groan. Why did her head feel like half a dozen natsu´s were pounding on it? She moved to grip her forehead, but instead she heard a rattle before her arm was blocked. Snapping her eyes open, she blinked at the dim light pouring through a small windowcell, into a room of cold stone brick. Her breath caught, shifting to feel a mass of metal that practically cocooned her; there had to be her body's weight in iron chains from her neck down.
The cold cell, where were her friends? Why couldn't she move? Why did everything hurt? Kyoka, that smiling demon rippling her claws, then pain, pain, pain!
Erza thrashed a second, quick breaths slowing by force of will. She forced herself to stop and think, not give into fear. She wasn't locked deep within Tartaros, this cell was infinitely better than that pit; straw covered the floor, there was warm sunlight coming through the window, and when she shifted herself she felt scratchy clothes under the chains. It felt like low quality wool, but there was something between her skin and the scratchy chains.
"Miss Scarlet, you're awake!" Exclaimed a familiar voice.
Erza looked up and smiled, then winced. "Father Grimaldi, why are you here?"
The priest looked mostly unharmed, his robes were somewhat dirty and scuffed. His wrists and ankles were bound by shackles which left him hobbling, though unlike her he wasn't affixed to the wall as well. He smiled back before concern flooded his expression.
"Are you alright? You were unconscious for a while." He fussed.
"I am alright, this isn't the worst place I've woken up in." Erza thought mainly of Hades Island, though she had some uncomfortable reminders of the Tower of Heaven as well. "What about you?"
He huffed in mock indignation. "Apart from some ignoble treatment of a man of faith, well enough. They did take my possessions as well as yours."
"That explains this." Erza halted a shiver. "How long have we been here?"
"A day now. They have provided food and water." His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Well if you can call it that." He spit at a nearby bowl containing what charitably might be called food. Uncharitably it was brown water and some bread that was more mold than grain.
"What happened?" Erza desperately tried to remember the last day. Why were she and her companion in prison? The last thing she remembered was accompanying that Noble into his house. She wanted to warn him about the beastmen….
"Oi! Quit yer yappin!" A deep yet somehow young voice shouted, followed by a loud clang against the cell bars. Raffaelo flinched, Erza merely turned her head.
Walking up to the bars was an odd figure, a man as short as Wendy or Master Makarov yet nearly as wide, clad in thick metal plate that left a neck length beard dangling. He looked to be rather young in spite of the beard and his general thickness. His runty eyes narrowed at the sight, hefting a short handed ax to again rap it against the bars.
"I was merely discussing my counterpart's condition, dwarf." Raffaelo replied testily.
"Doesn't matter, you're not suppose'd to talk." The dwarf shot back, gazing away with light fear at another couple dwarves marching up, along with a sour faced human guard.
"See? All good." An older dwarf gestured at Erza insistently.
"Yes, what fine work you've done. Worth every coin." He said dryly. "So much better than we lowly humans. There is no way that normal chains could´ve been enough, we had to use your oh so special, and naturally expensive, bindings instead."
"Bah, tis not our fault yer boss don't trust ya. Baratok!" He suddenly barked, the younger dwarf jolting and hurriedly adjusting his hold on his weapon.
"Ah, y-yes Captain Rumpslayer?" He stuttered.
"We're goin for a drink beardling, its on the house." The dwarf barked, and the guard groaned. "I don't wanchu talkin to those umgi without me present, got me beardling?"
"Yessir." Baratok nodded quickly.
"Good lad, don't disappoint me." The dwarves rumbled off with their companion in tow, who looked like he swallowed a lemon.
When they were gone Baratok sighed. "Left me again, not even with any extra ale." He despondently grabbed a small flask, which rattled hollowly. "Just my luck."
"Wait a moment, what did he mean by special chains?" Raffaelo gripped the bars with a rattle.
"Oh, uh, I shouldn't be speaking to you without my captain around." Baratok looked much less certain now that his apparent elder wasn't around.
"If it's so strong then there's no harm in telling me. See?" Erza flexed against the chains, getting only a rattle. After a second she amended that, there was a weird tingle whenever she used any strength against the metal, like it was blocking her.
"Well, uh… as long as you don't tell my sergeant." Baratok rolled his stubby shoulders. "Those are runic chains of binding, they were made in Karaz Kaferkammaz for the mercenary companies that set out from the Hold. They can hold down a giant."
"Really, that's amazing." Erza was impressed; magic chains weren't unknown to her, though as she looked closer she saw the craftsmanship was actually far better than she thought. Smooth, well wrought, they were almost fancy compared to Raffaelo's bindings.
"They are. My great uncle crafted those, he was proud of it. I, uh, tried to be his apprentice, but…" he shrugged pensively. "Dunno why Lord Emanuello wanted these on you, but we do what our contracts specify. I figured once your armor was off you wouldn't need more than basics like your friend here."
"My armor? What do you know of it?" Erza snapped up.
Baratok abruptly gulped. "Lord Emanuello was, uh, insistent that the Dawi mercenaries be the ones to, ah, imprison you. He didn't want his own men to lay a hand on you. As the youngest dawi of this company, I…"
"Well, that's some good news." Raffaelo muttered.
"I mean, you're pretty for an umgi-erm, human, but you're still just an umgi." Baratok waved his ax, accidentally clattering it off the bars.
"I see." Erza narrowed her eyes. "Where did you put my armor after you stripped me?"
"Uh, I'm not supposed to tell you. Rumpslayer took it anyway, I dunno where." He answered, gulping. "A-anyway, I'm not supposed to be talking to prisoners anyway." He said quickly, whipping around to show his back even faster. He was out of arms reach anyway, Erza couldn't have grabbed it even if she wanted to.
She probably could have, depending on how earnest the small man´s boasts of their chains were, but that would probably put her in even more trouble than she already was. She didn't want to behave like Natsu and cause more unnecessary damage.
"What can we expect to let out of here?" She asked. Surely the local authorities would be reasonable and not keep them in prison for too long? She couldn't remember what she did, but that probably meant it wasn't something too bad anyway.
The dawi just stared at her for a couple seconds, before shaking his head and laughing, saying something about Dumi worshipping Umgi being really as crazy as his master always told him. Whatever uncertainty that led to his talk spell had evaporated, partly because she heard stomping feet approaching.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Emanuello found himself feeling quite anxious. Not for the usual reasons of worrying over his rivals or if the damned skaven were trying to assassinate him again, but over his unusual prisoner, someone his aching chin wouldn't let him forget for even a minute.
"Are you sure those two witches are secured?" He stressed. To think that worshippers of chaos had come so close to him, to think that he had invited them -her- into his own private quarters, by Myrmidia! He really had to stop getting drawn to attractive women, they were always trouble.
Even if they were as breathtaking as Erza Scarlet.
Master Goric Thunderpeak, the head of the dwarf mercenary throng his father had hired to protect the caravan, and him as Emanuello had admitted with some difficulty, snorted simply. "The chains that hold them now had been worked on by the best runesmiths of Karak Kaferkammaz, they aren't the kind of umgi work you are used to." He didn´t say anything further, apparently that that was all that needed to be said on that topic.
"And what of magic? Surely even you must be worried about witch touch." Emanuello forced the issue.
"Runes of Warding are on those cells. You'd need something stronger than a plain witch to break a single rune, even a witch that trucks with fell powers." Master Thunderpeak was just as dismissive. "And before you prattle on any further, I'll remind you that even the beardlings of my throng have far more experience than your men. My youngest men are tougher and more steadfast than any guard you've hired."
Anyone else and Emanuello would be furious at this flagrant disrespect and would have laughed at those boasts. Not with the dawi. He had personally seen how his force of a mere two hundred had dispatched bandit bands many times the size of his own with ease during the time of his travels. Thunderpeak was barely more friendly now than when they first met, but never once had he failed to deliver on his terms; if he said something was done, it was.
His doubt in the old dwarf was as rude as his behavior towards him, but he had to be sure. Something he seemed to pick up on.
"You felled her by breaking a decent decoration piece on her head. How dangerous can one woman really be?" Thunderpeak raised a bushy brow.
Emanuello was moderately sure that her being "felled" had nothing to do with his striking prowess and more that she simply couldn't take a drink all that well, but he kept those suspicions to himself. He had already embarrassed himself enough in front of the mercenary captain, no need to further that.
"And about the threat of further attacks? We can't just assume they were handling it alone." He was certain he could take any cultist in a direct flight, and like any noble of Tilea, he was well prepared against poison or nightly assassins, but an attack by magic? It was not something he had much experience in fending off.
"You went through the trouble of getting my throng here, that's more than enough. Even without that you're rotating the guards and having your personal staff keep an eye on them. You wanna call in another wizard to be sure?" Thunderpeak turned up his nose at the idea, but it was a genuine question. "I've dealt with magic before, up north in the imperial lands, and down south in Araby. Don't leave things to chance and magic can't hurt you. You've done a lot to keep chance where it belongs."
Emanuello nodded testily, feeling disagreeable with that statement. "Very well. Nonetheless, keep an eye on them. That woman especially."
There was still some time before his scouts got back, doing their usual searches for skaven burrows or Orc nests. Enough time to go to his study, where he ordered Erza's belongings be placed; locking the door behind him, he approached the weapons and armor she wore in this very room yesterday.
Tracing his hands over the breastplate, he marveled at its touch. It felt like steel instead of something more exotic like gromil, but he knew quality when he saw it. Not to dawi standards yet still a league apart from his men. And not only that, there were telltale signs of repairs; creases from being bent back into shape, waves from reforging, additional lines of thoroughly careful repairs. He was so distracted by Erza's beauty that he didn't see she displayed her prowess in plain sight.
His eyes fell on the sword next. It was an exotic thing, a curved single edge weapon that resembles the bizarre swords from the Far East. The hilt was largely unadorned save for a small brass guard and a small cloth wrap, and the grip only had a small set of beads connected to a rope. One side of the blade was black while the other was steel. Overall it was well made, but lacking in ornaments.
And yet, Emanuello had trouble looking away from the sword. It had a presence to it that grabbed his eyes and didn't let go; rubbing his ear, he checked the room to find himself alone. So why did he feel like someone whispered in his ear?
"Maybe…" he mumbled to himself. There were tall tales from imperials and occasionally bretonnians, of extremely rare weapons used by dreaded northmen, weapons that had a foul presence bound to their existence, granting their wielders boons.
On the other hand, he had seen runic weapons before. Thunderpeak himself carried a rune-inscribed hammer at all times, giving the evil eye to even his own men to keep them from touching it. They were powerful tools that could be temperamental, but as long as the user was careful nothing could befall them.
The sword Erza carried, it didn't seem like it was tainted. Powerful certainly, perhaps worth a hefty price in the right hands. But he wouldn't know without examining it. He wasn't about to charge into battle, and he was a faithful servant of the gods; he could put it down after a moment, once his curiosity was sated.
Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, Emanuello lifted the surprisingly light sword into the air. Immediately he could tell it was well balanced, sturdy, and such a sight to behold-
"Wait." He suddenly frowned. He gripped it tightly, so much that his knuckles were going white.
Shaking his arm only twirled the sword in an artless pattern, with enough force that he felt the air reverberate. Staggering back, he swung around and accidentally sliced a pedestal in half; the top part slid to clatter on the floor, the cut going through the stone so impossibly smooth. More than that, the single slash saw the air itself vibrate as if even it tried to move away from the weapon in his hand.
His breath came faster and faster, struggling as if running. Emanuello couldn't breathe, he gasped, hyperventilating as his hand shook. Even as his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, eyes locked on the sword.
It was glowing. Unmistakably, unquestionably, it was getting brighter by the second, and dare he say getting sharper. Before his eyes he felt his skin seemingly crackle, that arm alone feeling anything while everything else felt like it was dying. His body was getting weaker, his essence flowing into the blade, fueling that crimson glow…
"Lord Emanuello!" A sudden strike of gromil on steel caught him by surprise, wrenching the blade free from his dead man's grip. He collapsed in a pile, suddenly aware that his throat was sore beyond belief and his ears were ringing. That drop kept him from seeing what befell that sword when it left him.
Flipping him over, Thunderpeak grimaced at patting him over, the dwarf's hammer hovering over him with a chunk missing from the flat edge. When he was finished he dragged Emanuello so he sat up.
"You screamed like a banshee. What in the blazes happened here?" He demanded.
Emanuello took quick gulps of air, clutching the wrist that was closest to that sword. Skin prickled from numbness, slowly bringing forth a shaking that nearly upset him. He was exhausted, but how?
"How?" He repeated aloud, his eyes inevitably locating the sword. It was a couple body's lengths away, embedded halfway in a stone statue.
"It was the Grimnir damned sword. What, by Grungni´s beard possessed you to hold it? It was sucking your very life out!" The dawi thundered with a cuff to his head, his face one of fury though there was an undercurrent of concern in it. With a groan he hefted the noble over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes.
"Let's get you fixed up." His voice was still harsh, but there was a certainty under it that grounded his shook up soul in a manner. "I'll be charging you for repairs to my hammer, just so you know."
Still, Emanuello couldn't help but wonder even in the state he was in. Who was it he had imprisoned that she could wield a weapon like this and not be impaired by it?
AN: New Chapter, hope you enjoy it.
When Erza awoke she couldn´t help but led out a groan. Why did her head feel like half a dozen natsu´s were pounding on it? She moved to grip her forehead, but instead she heard a rattle before her arm was blocked. Snapping her eyes open, she blinked at the dim light pouring through a small windowcell, into a room of cold stone brick. Her breath caught, shifting to feel a mass of metal that practically cocooned her; there had to be her body's weight in iron chains from her neck down.
The cold cell, where were her friends? Why couldn't she move? Why did everything hurt? Kyoka, that smiling demon rippling her claws, then pain, pain, pain!
Erza thrashed a second, quick breaths slowing by force of will. She forced herself to stop and think, not give into fear. She wasn't locked deep within Tartaros, this cell was infinitely better than that pit; straw covered the floor, there was warm sunlight coming through the window, and when she shifted herself she felt scratchy clothes under the chains. It felt like low quality wool, but there was something between her skin and the scratchy chains.
"Miss Scarlet, you're awake!" Exclaimed a familiar voice.
Erza looked up and smiled, then winced. "Father Grimaldi, why are you here?"
The priest looked mostly unharmed, his robes were somewhat dirty and scuffed. His wrists and ankles were bound by shackles which left him hobbling, though unlike her he wasn't affixed to the wall as well. He smiled back before concern flooded his expression.
"Are you alright? You were unconscious for a while." He fussed.
"I am alright, this isn't the worst place I've woken up in." Erza thought mainly of Hades Island, though she had some uncomfortable reminders of the Tower of Heaven as well. "What about you?"
He huffed in mock indignation. "Apart from some ignoble treatment of a man of faith, well enough. They did take my possessions as well as yours."
"That explains this." Erza halted a shiver. "How long have we been here?"
"A day now. They have provided food and water." His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Well if you can call it that." He spit at a nearby bowl containing what charitably might be called food. Uncharitably it was brown water and some bread that was more mold than grain.
"What happened?" Erza desperately tried to remember the last day. Why were she and her companion in prison? The last thing she remembered was accompanying that Noble into his house. She wanted to warn him about the beastmen….
"Oi! Quit yer yappin!" A deep yet somehow young voice shouted, followed by a loud clang against the cell bars. Raffaelo flinched, Erza merely turned her head.
Walking up to the bars was an odd figure, a man as short as Wendy or Master Makarov yet nearly as wide, clad in thick metal plate that left a neck length beard dangling. He looked to be rather young in spite of the beard and his general thickness. His runty eyes narrowed at the sight, hefting a short handed ax to again rap it against the bars.
"I was merely discussing my counterpart's condition, dwarf." Raffaelo replied testily.
"Doesn't matter, you're not suppose'd to talk." The dwarf shot back, gazing away with light fear at another couple dwarves marching up, along with a sour faced human guard.
"See? All good." An older dwarf gestured at Erza insistently.
"Yes, what fine work you've done. Worth every coin." He said dryly. "So much better than we lowly humans. There is no way that normal chains could´ve been enough, we had to use your oh so special, and naturally expensive, bindings instead."
"Bah, tis not our fault yer boss don't trust ya. Baratok!" He suddenly barked, the younger dwarf jolting and hurriedly adjusting his hold on his weapon.
"Ah, y-yes Captain Rumpslayer?" He stuttered.
"We're goin for a drink beardling, its on the house." The dwarf barked, and the guard groaned. "I don't wanchu talkin to those umgi without me present, got me beardling?"
"Yessir." Baratok nodded quickly.
"Good lad, don't disappoint me." The dwarves rumbled off with their companion in tow, who looked like he swallowed a lemon.
When they were gone Baratok sighed. "Left me again, not even with any extra ale." He despondently grabbed a small flask, which rattled hollowly. "Just my luck."
"Wait a moment, what did he mean by special chains?" Raffaelo gripped the bars with a rattle.
"Oh, uh, I shouldn't be speaking to you without my captain around." Baratok looked much less certain now that his apparent elder wasn't around.
"If it's so strong then there's no harm in telling me. See?" Erza flexed against the chains, getting only a rattle. After a second she amended that, there was a weird tingle whenever she used any strength against the metal, like it was blocking her.
"Well, uh… as long as you don't tell my sergeant." Baratok rolled his stubby shoulders. "Those are runic chains of binding, they were made in Karaz Kaferkammaz for the mercenary companies that set out from the Hold. They can hold down a giant."
"Really, that's amazing." Erza was impressed; magic chains weren't unknown to her, though as she looked closer she saw the craftsmanship was actually far better than she thought. Smooth, well wrought, they were almost fancy compared to Raffaelo's bindings.
"They are. My great uncle crafted those, he was proud of it. I, uh, tried to be his apprentice, but…" he shrugged pensively. "Dunno why Lord Emanuello wanted these on you, but we do what our contracts specify. I figured once your armor was off you wouldn't need more than basics like your friend here."
"My armor? What do you know of it?" Erza snapped up.
Baratok abruptly gulped. "Lord Emanuello was, uh, insistent that the Dawi mercenaries be the ones to, ah, imprison you. He didn't want his own men to lay a hand on you. As the youngest dawi of this company, I…"
"Well, that's some good news." Raffaelo muttered.
"I mean, you're pretty for an umgi-erm, human, but you're still just an umgi." Baratok waved his ax, accidentally clattering it off the bars.
"I see." Erza narrowed her eyes. "Where did you put my armor after you stripped me?"
"Uh, I'm not supposed to tell you. Rumpslayer took it anyway, I dunno where." He answered, gulping. "A-anyway, I'm not supposed to be talking to prisoners anyway." He said quickly, whipping around to show his back even faster. He was out of arms reach anyway, Erza couldn't have grabbed it even if she wanted to.
She probably could have, depending on how earnest the small man´s boasts of their chains were, but that would probably put her in even more trouble than she already was. She didn't want to behave like Natsu and cause more unnecessary damage.
"What can we expect to let out of here?" She asked. Surely the local authorities would be reasonable and not keep them in prison for too long? She couldn't remember what she did, but that probably meant it wasn't something too bad anyway.
The dawi just stared at her for a couple seconds, before shaking his head and laughing, saying something about Dumi worshipping Umgi being really as crazy as his master always told him. Whatever uncertainty that led to his talk spell had evaporated, partly because she heard stomping feet approaching.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Emanuello found himself feeling quite anxious. Not for the usual reasons of worrying over his rivals or if the damned skaven were trying to assassinate him again, but over his unusual prisoner, someone his aching chin wouldn't let him forget for even a minute.
"Are you sure those two witches are secured?" He stressed. To think that worshippers of chaos had come so close to him, to think that he had invited them -her- into his own private quarters, by Myrmidia! He really had to stop getting drawn to attractive women, they were always trouble.
Even if they were as breathtaking as Erza Scarlet.
Master Goric Thunderpeak, the head of the dwarf mercenary throng his father had hired to protect the caravan, and him as Emanuello had admitted with some difficulty, snorted simply. "The chains that hold them now had been worked on by the best runesmiths of Karak Kaferkammaz, they aren't the kind of umgi work you are used to." He didn´t say anything further, apparently that that was all that needed to be said on that topic.
"And what of magic? Surely even you must be worried about witch touch." Emanuello forced the issue.
"Runes of Warding are on those cells. You'd need something stronger than a plain witch to break a single rune, even a witch that trucks with fell powers." Master Thunderpeak was just as dismissive. "And before you prattle on any further, I'll remind you that even the beardlings of my throng have far more experience than your men. My youngest men are tougher and more steadfast than any guard you've hired."
Anyone else and Emanuello would be furious at this flagrant disrespect and would have laughed at those boasts. Not with the dawi. He had personally seen how his force of a mere two hundred had dispatched bandit bands many times the size of his own with ease during the time of his travels. Thunderpeak was barely more friendly now than when they first met, but never once had he failed to deliver on his terms; if he said something was done, it was.
His doubt in the old dwarf was as rude as his behavior towards him, but he had to be sure. Something he seemed to pick up on.
"You felled her by breaking a decent decoration piece on her head. How dangerous can one woman really be?" Thunderpeak raised a bushy brow.
Emanuello was moderately sure that her being "felled" had nothing to do with his striking prowess and more that she simply couldn't take a drink all that well, but he kept those suspicions to himself. He had already embarrassed himself enough in front of the mercenary captain, no need to further that.
"And about the threat of further attacks? We can't just assume they were handling it alone." He was certain he could take any cultist in a direct flight, and like any noble of Tilea, he was well prepared against poison or nightly assassins, but an attack by magic? It was not something he had much experience in fending off.
"You went through the trouble of getting my throng here, that's more than enough. Even without that you're rotating the guards and having your personal staff keep an eye on them. You wanna call in another wizard to be sure?" Thunderpeak turned up his nose at the idea, but it was a genuine question. "I've dealt with magic before, up north in the imperial lands, and down south in Araby. Don't leave things to chance and magic can't hurt you. You've done a lot to keep chance where it belongs."
Emanuello nodded testily, feeling disagreeable with that statement. "Very well. Nonetheless, keep an eye on them. That woman especially."
There was still some time before his scouts got back, doing their usual searches for skaven burrows or Orc nests. Enough time to go to his study, where he ordered Erza's belongings be placed; locking the door behind him, he approached the weapons and armor she wore in this very room yesterday.
Tracing his hands over the breastplate, he marveled at its touch. It felt like steel instead of something more exotic like gromil, but he knew quality when he saw it. Not to dawi standards yet still a league apart from his men. And not only that, there were telltale signs of repairs; creases from being bent back into shape, waves from reforging, additional lines of thoroughly careful repairs. He was so distracted by Erza's beauty that he didn't see she displayed her prowess in plain sight.
His eyes fell on the sword next. It was an exotic thing, a curved single edge weapon that resembles the bizarre swords from the Far East. The hilt was largely unadorned save for a small brass guard and a small cloth wrap, and the grip only had a small set of beads connected to a rope. One side of the blade was black while the other was steel. Overall it was well made, but lacking in ornaments.
And yet, Emanuello had trouble looking away from the sword. It had a presence to it that grabbed his eyes and didn't let go; rubbing his ear, he checked the room to find himself alone. So why did he feel like someone whispered in his ear?
"Maybe…" he mumbled to himself. There were tall tales from imperials and occasionally bretonnians, of extremely rare weapons used by dreaded northmen, weapons that had a foul presence bound to their existence, granting their wielders boons.
On the other hand, he had seen runic weapons before. Thunderpeak himself carried a rune-inscribed hammer at all times, giving the evil eye to even his own men to keep them from touching it. They were powerful tools that could be temperamental, but as long as the user was careful nothing could befall them.
The sword Erza carried, it didn't seem like it was tainted. Powerful certainly, perhaps worth a hefty price in the right hands. But he wouldn't know without examining it. He wasn't about to charge into battle, and he was a faithful servant of the gods; he could put it down after a moment, once his curiosity was sated.
Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, Emanuello lifted the surprisingly light sword into the air. Immediately he could tell it was well balanced, sturdy, and such a sight to behold-
"Wait." He suddenly frowned. He gripped it tightly, so much that his knuckles were going white.
Shaking his arm only twirled the sword in an artless pattern, with enough force that he felt the air reverberate. Staggering back, he swung around and accidentally sliced a pedestal in half; the top part slid to clatter on the floor, the cut going through the stone so impossibly smooth. More than that, the single slash saw the air itself vibrate as if even it tried to move away from the weapon in his hand.
His breath came faster and faster, struggling as if running. Emanuello couldn't breathe, he gasped, hyperventilating as his hand shook. Even as his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, eyes locked on the sword.
It was glowing. Unmistakably, unquestionably, it was getting brighter by the second, and dare he say getting sharper. Before his eyes he felt his skin seemingly crackle, that arm alone feeling anything while everything else felt like it was dying. His body was getting weaker, his essence flowing into the blade, fueling that crimson glow…
"Lord Emanuello!" A sudden strike of gromil on steel caught him by surprise, wrenching the blade free from his dead man's grip. He collapsed in a pile, suddenly aware that his throat was sore beyond belief and his ears were ringing. That drop kept him from seeing what befell that sword when it left him.
Flipping him over, Thunderpeak grimaced at patting him over, the dwarf's hammer hovering over him with a chunk missing from the flat edge. When he was finished he dragged Emanuello so he sat up.
"You screamed like a banshee. What in the blazes happened here?" He demanded.
Emanuello took quick gulps of air, clutching the wrist that was closest to that sword. Skin prickled from numbness, slowly bringing forth a shaking that nearly upset him. He was exhausted, but how?
"How?" He repeated aloud, his eyes inevitably locating the sword. It was a couple body's lengths away, embedded halfway in a stone statue.
"It was the Grimnir damned sword. What, by Grungni´s beard possessed you to hold it? It was sucking your very life out!" The dawi thundered with a cuff to his head, his face one of fury though there was an undercurrent of concern in it. With a groan he hefted the noble over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes.
"Let's get you fixed up." His voice was still harsh, but there was a certainty under it that grounded his shook up soul in a manner. "I'll be charging you for repairs to my hammer, just so you know."
Still, Emanuello couldn't help but wonder even in the state he was in. Who was it he had imprisoned that she could wield a weapon like this and not be impaired by it?
AN: New Chapter, hope you enjoy it.
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Chapter 9
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 9
Arialdo leaned on his pike as he looked into the nighttime darkness, breathing on his fists to warm them up as he stared down the wooden palisade to see if anything was out there. There wasn't of course, but it was still his task. It was damned chilly compared to the last few days, unnaturally cold. Not that he was surprised about it at this point.
Things had been incredibly strange ever since the cursed green moon had appeared over the day. He had heard how the local butcher's flesh had suddenly began to weep blood. and how peasants had to put down their own maddened livestock. A nearby stream had turned green and everyone who drank of it, animal or man, had turned incredibly sick and a good number of them had died. Arialdo himself suspected the ratman to be behind it; it would fit the stories he heard.
Not only that, Charles had told him that some cultists and crazy witches tried to kill the merchant prince who had come to Corno to rest here. In fact, he was still telling him about her, the bastard reveling in the attention the other guards gave him, having been the only one present for the whole affair. He was so active he didn't need to shuffle for warmth like him, instead gesturing and giggling like a boy with a naughty secret.
"Say, is it true that she was strong like an ogre, had three heads and could breathe fire like a dragon?" Amon was the youngest among them, barely old enough to properly take his wine. "My Ma told me she and Prince Emanuello had duelled for hours before he defeated her. She told me that she heard that from a friend."
"Now I heard something else. My Uncle told me that she was beautiful like an elf and that she warped the minds of every male who looked at her." Now Rodrig mixed himself into the discussion. "I heard she was even more voluptuous than Clarette, is that true?"
And as always the youngster was thinking only with his pants. They all knew of his numerous attempts to woo Clarrette and the other wenches at the tavern. So far he hadn't been successful at even getting them to take him seriously.
Not that he could actually fault him much about leering at the witch, if the stories were true…
Charles for himself just nodded, a fat grin on his face as he beheld the small mob of guards around him.
"You know? I can't quite remember…. was she beautiful or a monster? Hmmm..." The bastard shrugged. "Maybe some wine would clean up my memory? It's hard to tell stories with such a dry throat, yannow?"
There was much grumbling around him but Charles remained silent, until Rodrig groaned and gave him his wineskin to take a strong sip from. He even took his sweet time at that, making sure to boil them in their curiosity no doubt, before finally answering.
"Bit of one, a lot more of the other." He smacked his lips, taking another sip of wine. "She looked human, but was monstrously strong. She carried a donkey and a man on her shoulders like they were nothing more than feathers. On the beauty part?"
His grin turned lecherous, as suspected.
"Yeah. She was something else. Didn't see much, since the Merchant prince insisted that the Dwarf's stripped her of her equipment, though from what bits I could make out? She got the biggest juggs you've ever seen." He made some rough motions half an arm's length away from his chest to underline what he meant. "Probably got them through witchcraft or some foul pact, to better ensnare her victims."
Everyone else agreed and nodded, though Arialdo saw hints of hunger in the eyes of a number of men.
It had probably been a wise decision of Prince Emanuello to not trust the men of Corno to secure the witch, if she was indeed that luscious and beautiful. He wasn't entirely sure if some of the good men around here could resist being enchanted by her body, especially considering how the wineskin made it's patrol through their ranks.
The dwarfs had luckily been far more disciplined than that, even if some of the guards around here murmured about them. They did nothing but criticize the guards, chortling about how they'd break the moment a proper fight started. Their comments had seen more than a single fist fight break out in the taverns of Corno, and so far the human participants had lost them all, much to their shame. One of the men in sight bore a mark from such a brawl, a sizable bruise on his cheek while he was enamored by Charles.
Listening to the stories they told of said "epic" struggles, it always was because the dwarfs had an overwhelming superiority of numbers on their side and it was always a close affair.
Adriago had his doubts about that. For one, from what he had seen, there were not that many dwarfs here anyway, maybe hundred and they mostly kept to themselves. And Clarette had told him the exact opposite of the events when he had asked her, often with a giggle.
She had found the whole situation pretty funny apparently.
"Shouldn't we be more careful?" Rodrig was clearly uncomfortable stirring the discussion away from Charles' tales about the redhead's prodigious rump and bust, but he seemed more than a little concerned. "The prince told us to be careful of other witches and cultists following up after the two that came today." he gulped, clearly worried about the possibility.
In response one of the other guards just clapped him on his back and laughed.
"Please, witches messing around would be one thing, but actual cults to some dark powers? Prince Emanuello is simply jumping over his own shadow!" And back to the stories it was.
Adriago for himself wasn't so sure about that. Still, the dwarfs were on the lookout for any threats to Corno, and -as he suspected- in their opinion much more importantly their client. They had sworn some oath to protect him and the small folk were awfully serious about that business. He glanced back to the darkness and rubbed his chilly palm.
If anything where to come attack them, surely their sentries would warn them first.
XXXXXXXX
Emanuello had much experience in swallowing down some rough drinks. As part of his education as a potential heir of Tobaro, not to mention during his business ventures. That was if something were to happen to Tibaldus, not an impossibility given how often some rival or maybe even the skaven tried to contest the influence of the De Vela Banking house in Tobaro.
As such he'd been accustomed to drinking various poisons ever since his twelfth year of life, always in tiny enough potions to not be lethal as to slowly harden his body against them. It was still enough to turn days and weeks of time into a nightmare.
The worst of those poisons didn't burn a tenth of the brew Goric had just given him. He had to physically hold his mouth shut with his own hand to avoid barfing it out as it slowly, - by Myrmidia, why didn't the pain stop- go down his throat.
"What by Myrmidia's massive tits was this stuff?!" He just barely managed to bring out, looking at the mug the dwarf had given him as if it would try to bite him any moment. His old priest back in Tabaro would have spanked him raw for cursing in Myrmidia's name like that, but he didn't care at the moment. That had been like downing magma!
"Another couple hundred gold coins of your treasury, mannling." The old dwarf picked the mug up and carefully checked it for any damage, before stowing it away. "Do you feel any change yet?"
"I, what?" Emanuello stretched his arm, before pushing himself slowly up from the bed he had been dumped in the by Longbeard. Just a couple moments ago he was barely capable of raising his arm to his mouth!
With a groan he sat up. "What happened?"
The last hours (?) had been something of a blur, something like being just steps away from falling unconscious. That… thing, it almost killed him. Yet even now he felt some lingering rapturment from thinking about that cursed sword. It drew him in, like a cat baiting its tail for a tasty rat.
"You wazzock thought it was a smart idea to pick up a dumiblade and swing it around. Damn thing sucked almost your life out of you." The Dawi nodded towards the mug. "What you just drank was beer, specially brewed and blessed yearly by the Valayan priesthood of Karak Kammerfaz. It returned you your strength of what would otherwise have taken an umgi like you probably weeks to discover."
Emanuello opened his mouth to speak up, but promptly shut it, once Goric leveled his glare at him.
"What were you thinking? Honestly, even for an umgi of these lands, what you've done was boneheaded idiocy. You heard enough tales about fell weapons to know better, but instead you went and played with it like a beardling toying with his master's prized tools. If you died, who would've paid for repairs for my hammer?" Goric cuffed him, albeit without that much force. By dwarf standards, he still gasped from the blow. "And that's not touching the issue of that witch you invited into your room. Don't mine among loose rocks is the dawi way for a reason."
He shook his head, his impressive beard shaking along with it. "For the trade treaties your brother made with my clan I swore an oath to him that I would protect you. If you insist on acting further as you did so far, then I will have my Iron Breakers constrain you, lock you into a barrel, only letting you out for food until we have arrived at Migrolino. I will not let you turn me into an oathbreaker, Mannling. Is that clear?"
Emanuello nodded, allowing himself to fall back into the bed. "How much for repairs-"
"A lot. Gromil isn't cheap, and neither is runesmith work." Goric was as stern as always, studying him with an intent gaze. "Next time, be more careful with strange womenfolk and dumiblades, you understand? I may not be in rescue distance if you decide to let another sword eat you."
"I'll keep that in mind." Mustering his strength, Emanuello rose up with a groan, and with what felt like a monumental effort swung his legs over the edge.
Goric stepped back, staying in arms reach the whole time. "Fetching the coin already?"
"Not just yet. I have some questions that need answering first. For starters: How come this sword did not hurt your dwarfs? I saw your subordinates carry it around?" He eyed the dwarf. That had been the reason he wanted to look at it, not only did the dwarfs touch it freely, but one of his men held it while Goric's men secured the witch. No doubt he went and spread rumors about her already, he would be surprised if every tavern was chatting about Erza.
"Bah, magic and Dawi don't mix. Never have, never will. That wild stuff doesn't affect us. If we need magic power, we bind it properly through runes." He patted his damaged hammer, flashing a grimace at the deep cut in the solid metal. "It's safer than tossing around fireballs like a damned elgi. That dumi blade could probably not affect us because of that"
"And my man? He was fine holding it while your men bound her." Emanuello pointed out.
Goric shrugged. "No idea. Can´t expect dumi blades, magic ones on top of that, to function like a sensible straightforward az. Maybe it didn't affect him because he just held it? And you swung it around." He looked around. "We can probably find out more from the witch, if you want to interrogate her before you do away with her."
Emanuello swung his feet over the edge to test his weight; rising up left him woozy, needing to grab the frame to steady himself. A moment of strained breathing passed before he let go, his balance in awful shape but overall functional.
"Yes, interrogate her. I need some answers from Lady Scarlet concerning her belongings." He meandered towards the door.
Acquiring more men on the way, Emanuello left his opulent home with Goric in tow. The jail guards straightened up when they spotted him, allowing his party in without a word of protest; numbering a dozen men, six dwarfs including Goric, and himself, they made for an intimidating presence into the dirty jail.
Heading directly to the most secure cell in the building, Emanuello passed the couple dwarf guards to halt before the bars. He adjusted his jacket, beholding the false priest and the witch turning towards him, the former rattling some chains, the other unable to move without making a racket.
"Lady Scarlet." He greeted dryly, laying on the sarcasm. "It's time we had a talk."
Erza groaned, shifting up to shuffle her cocoon of chains; the most secure bindings the dwarfs had at his insistence. She swiveled to him, and even in her lackluster state she was stunning.
"Prince Emanuello, have you come to release me?" She sounded far too calm for someone with as many chains as she had. He demanded enough to hold down an ogre, and they obliged.
"Not exactly." He went on guard, prepared for any wiles.
"If you already made up your mind, then why did you come?" Raffaelo the false priest, or was he corrupted? He assumed the former, creating a creature like her couldn't be done overnight.
"For answers of course, from your 'daughter' as well as yourself. Of all the talents you possess, lying convincingly isn't one of them." Emanuello began.
Both looked at him in confusion, Erza raising a brow. "This man isn't my father."
"Erza isn't my child, I just met her a couple days ago." Raffaelo sent her a puzzled look, laced by annoyance.
"Then why did you call him that?" Emanuello was feeling annoyed as well.
She cocked her head. "He is a man of faith. What else would I call him?"
"A priest." Emanuello answered, muffling a groan. Goric sent him a glance that he ignored. "Alright, now tell me why you came here."
"We came to warn you about a beastmen attack. I… got sidetracked." She turned away with a blush. Raffaelo added a stronger annoyed look.
"Do you really expect us to believe that?" Emanuello laughed. "That some army of beastmen strong enough to take entire towns would materialize out of nowhere and just attack us?" He sighed, hoping that he could have avoided this. Witch she may be, Emanuello wasn´t one who liked to see people tortured, even if they had almost killed him twice so far. Hopefully the threat of it would be enough.
With a wave of his hand he ordered one of his men forward. "If you insist on continually keeping up that charade, I'm afraid that I will have to resort to ha-"
A boom echoed in the distance; a second later the stone walls shook like a quake, dust falling from the ceiling. Emanuello spaced his legs immediately, sending a fearful look upwards at a crack that tore apart a sizable chunk of the wall, groaning unsteadily but after a second failing to collapse on their heads. Something very big slammed against one wall, threatening to break it down from the impact.
"What was that?!" One of his men quivered in terror. Dust floated through the windows, bringing with it the sounds of crashing rock and distant screams.
"Like a bloody cannon blew up." Goric snapped, suddenly turning to the direction it came from. "Wait, that sounded like… where the walls are!"
"What? How?!" Emanuello was about to dart out to see what happened for himself, but he had to stop because of that accursed witch. Raffaelo was as shocked as his men, but Erza didn't; she turned her head to the direction of the blast (how powerful must it be to hear all the way in the jail) without fear. Just narrowing her eyes, the chains clinking from her straining against them.
Shaking his head, Emanuello joined his guards in rushing out of the jail. They had to bypass the main entrance due to it collapsing, instead rushing through a collapsed wall into a scene of chaos; he gawked at the collapsed buildings, flattened like a gigantic bomb went off. Which may very well have happened, once he saw Corno's wall. Or what was the wall, a sizable chunk of it was a pile of rubble that gave a wide opening for attackers.
He froze, hearing a twisted roar that sounded almost like a donkey's bray. Then a lot of them, a calvacade of bestial roars that drowned out the shouts of town guards and screams of injured citizens. In the gloom he saw a vast number of shapes clamoring over the rubble into Corno. A whiff reached his nose by the time he identified the creatures, balking at the stench.
"Beastmen. She was right." Emanuello whispered, gulping. "Myrmidia help us, she was right."
Arialdo leaned on his pike as he looked into the nighttime darkness, breathing on his fists to warm them up as he stared down the wooden palisade to see if anything was out there. There wasn't of course, but it was still his task. It was damned chilly compared to the last few days, unnaturally cold. Not that he was surprised about it at this point.
Things had been incredibly strange ever since the cursed green moon had appeared over the day. He had heard how the local butcher's flesh had suddenly began to weep blood. and how peasants had to put down their own maddened livestock. A nearby stream had turned green and everyone who drank of it, animal or man, had turned incredibly sick and a good number of them had died. Arialdo himself suspected the ratman to be behind it; it would fit the stories he heard.
Not only that, Charles had told him that some cultists and crazy witches tried to kill the merchant prince who had come to Corno to rest here. In fact, he was still telling him about her, the bastard reveling in the attention the other guards gave him, having been the only one present for the whole affair. He was so active he didn't need to shuffle for warmth like him, instead gesturing and giggling like a boy with a naughty secret.
"Say, is it true that she was strong like an ogre, had three heads and could breathe fire like a dragon?" Amon was the youngest among them, barely old enough to properly take his wine. "My Ma told me she and Prince Emanuello had duelled for hours before he defeated her. She told me that she heard that from a friend."
"Now I heard something else. My Uncle told me that she was beautiful like an elf and that she warped the minds of every male who looked at her." Now Rodrig mixed himself into the discussion. "I heard she was even more voluptuous than Clarette, is that true?"
And as always the youngster was thinking only with his pants. They all knew of his numerous attempts to woo Clarrette and the other wenches at the tavern. So far he hadn't been successful at even getting them to take him seriously.
Not that he could actually fault him much about leering at the witch, if the stories were true…
Charles for himself just nodded, a fat grin on his face as he beheld the small mob of guards around him.
"You know? I can't quite remember…. was she beautiful or a monster? Hmmm..." The bastard shrugged. "Maybe some wine would clean up my memory? It's hard to tell stories with such a dry throat, yannow?"
There was much grumbling around him but Charles remained silent, until Rodrig groaned and gave him his wineskin to take a strong sip from. He even took his sweet time at that, making sure to boil them in their curiosity no doubt, before finally answering.
"Bit of one, a lot more of the other." He smacked his lips, taking another sip of wine. "She looked human, but was monstrously strong. She carried a donkey and a man on her shoulders like they were nothing more than feathers. On the beauty part?"
His grin turned lecherous, as suspected.
"Yeah. She was something else. Didn't see much, since the Merchant prince insisted that the Dwarf's stripped her of her equipment, though from what bits I could make out? She got the biggest juggs you've ever seen." He made some rough motions half an arm's length away from his chest to underline what he meant. "Probably got them through witchcraft or some foul pact, to better ensnare her victims."
Everyone else agreed and nodded, though Arialdo saw hints of hunger in the eyes of a number of men.
It had probably been a wise decision of Prince Emanuello to not trust the men of Corno to secure the witch, if she was indeed that luscious and beautiful. He wasn't entirely sure if some of the good men around here could resist being enchanted by her body, especially considering how the wineskin made it's patrol through their ranks.
The dwarfs had luckily been far more disciplined than that, even if some of the guards around here murmured about them. They did nothing but criticize the guards, chortling about how they'd break the moment a proper fight started. Their comments had seen more than a single fist fight break out in the taverns of Corno, and so far the human participants had lost them all, much to their shame. One of the men in sight bore a mark from such a brawl, a sizable bruise on his cheek while he was enamored by Charles.
Listening to the stories they told of said "epic" struggles, it always was because the dwarfs had an overwhelming superiority of numbers on their side and it was always a close affair.
Adriago had his doubts about that. For one, from what he had seen, there were not that many dwarfs here anyway, maybe hundred and they mostly kept to themselves. And Clarette had told him the exact opposite of the events when he had asked her, often with a giggle.
She had found the whole situation pretty funny apparently.
"Shouldn't we be more careful?" Rodrig was clearly uncomfortable stirring the discussion away from Charles' tales about the redhead's prodigious rump and bust, but he seemed more than a little concerned. "The prince told us to be careful of other witches and cultists following up after the two that came today." he gulped, clearly worried about the possibility.
In response one of the other guards just clapped him on his back and laughed.
"Please, witches messing around would be one thing, but actual cults to some dark powers? Prince Emanuello is simply jumping over his own shadow!" And back to the stories it was.
Adriago for himself wasn't so sure about that. Still, the dwarfs were on the lookout for any threats to Corno, and -as he suspected- in their opinion much more importantly their client. They had sworn some oath to protect him and the small folk were awfully serious about that business. He glanced back to the darkness and rubbed his chilly palm.
If anything where to come attack them, surely their sentries would warn them first.
XXXXXXXX
Emanuello had much experience in swallowing down some rough drinks. As part of his education as a potential heir of Tobaro, not to mention during his business ventures. That was if something were to happen to Tibaldus, not an impossibility given how often some rival or maybe even the skaven tried to contest the influence of the De Vela Banking house in Tobaro.
As such he'd been accustomed to drinking various poisons ever since his twelfth year of life, always in tiny enough potions to not be lethal as to slowly harden his body against them. It was still enough to turn days and weeks of time into a nightmare.
The worst of those poisons didn't burn a tenth of the brew Goric had just given him. He had to physically hold his mouth shut with his own hand to avoid barfing it out as it slowly, - by Myrmidia, why didn't the pain stop- go down his throat.
"What by Myrmidia's massive tits was this stuff?!" He just barely managed to bring out, looking at the mug the dwarf had given him as if it would try to bite him any moment. His old priest back in Tabaro would have spanked him raw for cursing in Myrmidia's name like that, but he didn't care at the moment. That had been like downing magma!
"Another couple hundred gold coins of your treasury, mannling." The old dwarf picked the mug up and carefully checked it for any damage, before stowing it away. "Do you feel any change yet?"
"I, what?" Emanuello stretched his arm, before pushing himself slowly up from the bed he had been dumped in the by Longbeard. Just a couple moments ago he was barely capable of raising his arm to his mouth!
With a groan he sat up. "What happened?"
The last hours (?) had been something of a blur, something like being just steps away from falling unconscious. That… thing, it almost killed him. Yet even now he felt some lingering rapturment from thinking about that cursed sword. It drew him in, like a cat baiting its tail for a tasty rat.
"You wazzock thought it was a smart idea to pick up a dumiblade and swing it around. Damn thing sucked almost your life out of you." The Dawi nodded towards the mug. "What you just drank was beer, specially brewed and blessed yearly by the Valayan priesthood of Karak Kammerfaz. It returned you your strength of what would otherwise have taken an umgi like you probably weeks to discover."
Emanuello opened his mouth to speak up, but promptly shut it, once Goric leveled his glare at him.
"What were you thinking? Honestly, even for an umgi of these lands, what you've done was boneheaded idiocy. You heard enough tales about fell weapons to know better, but instead you went and played with it like a beardling toying with his master's prized tools. If you died, who would've paid for repairs for my hammer?" Goric cuffed him, albeit without that much force. By dwarf standards, he still gasped from the blow. "And that's not touching the issue of that witch you invited into your room. Don't mine among loose rocks is the dawi way for a reason."
He shook his head, his impressive beard shaking along with it. "For the trade treaties your brother made with my clan I swore an oath to him that I would protect you. If you insist on acting further as you did so far, then I will have my Iron Breakers constrain you, lock you into a barrel, only letting you out for food until we have arrived at Migrolino. I will not let you turn me into an oathbreaker, Mannling. Is that clear?"
Emanuello nodded, allowing himself to fall back into the bed. "How much for repairs-"
"A lot. Gromil isn't cheap, and neither is runesmith work." Goric was as stern as always, studying him with an intent gaze. "Next time, be more careful with strange womenfolk and dumiblades, you understand? I may not be in rescue distance if you decide to let another sword eat you."
"I'll keep that in mind." Mustering his strength, Emanuello rose up with a groan, and with what felt like a monumental effort swung his legs over the edge.
Goric stepped back, staying in arms reach the whole time. "Fetching the coin already?"
"Not just yet. I have some questions that need answering first. For starters: How come this sword did not hurt your dwarfs? I saw your subordinates carry it around?" He eyed the dwarf. That had been the reason he wanted to look at it, not only did the dwarfs touch it freely, but one of his men held it while Goric's men secured the witch. No doubt he went and spread rumors about her already, he would be surprised if every tavern was chatting about Erza.
"Bah, magic and Dawi don't mix. Never have, never will. That wild stuff doesn't affect us. If we need magic power, we bind it properly through runes." He patted his damaged hammer, flashing a grimace at the deep cut in the solid metal. "It's safer than tossing around fireballs like a damned elgi. That dumi blade could probably not affect us because of that"
"And my man? He was fine holding it while your men bound her." Emanuello pointed out.
Goric shrugged. "No idea. Can´t expect dumi blades, magic ones on top of that, to function like a sensible straightforward az. Maybe it didn't affect him because he just held it? And you swung it around." He looked around. "We can probably find out more from the witch, if you want to interrogate her before you do away with her."
Emanuello swung his feet over the edge to test his weight; rising up left him woozy, needing to grab the frame to steady himself. A moment of strained breathing passed before he let go, his balance in awful shape but overall functional.
"Yes, interrogate her. I need some answers from Lady Scarlet concerning her belongings." He meandered towards the door.
Acquiring more men on the way, Emanuello left his opulent home with Goric in tow. The jail guards straightened up when they spotted him, allowing his party in without a word of protest; numbering a dozen men, six dwarfs including Goric, and himself, they made for an intimidating presence into the dirty jail.
Heading directly to the most secure cell in the building, Emanuello passed the couple dwarf guards to halt before the bars. He adjusted his jacket, beholding the false priest and the witch turning towards him, the former rattling some chains, the other unable to move without making a racket.
"Lady Scarlet." He greeted dryly, laying on the sarcasm. "It's time we had a talk."
Erza groaned, shifting up to shuffle her cocoon of chains; the most secure bindings the dwarfs had at his insistence. She swiveled to him, and even in her lackluster state she was stunning.
"Prince Emanuello, have you come to release me?" She sounded far too calm for someone with as many chains as she had. He demanded enough to hold down an ogre, and they obliged.
"Not exactly." He went on guard, prepared for any wiles.
"If you already made up your mind, then why did you come?" Raffaelo the false priest, or was he corrupted? He assumed the former, creating a creature like her couldn't be done overnight.
"For answers of course, from your 'daughter' as well as yourself. Of all the talents you possess, lying convincingly isn't one of them." Emanuello began.
Both looked at him in confusion, Erza raising a brow. "This man isn't my father."
"Erza isn't my child, I just met her a couple days ago." Raffaelo sent her a puzzled look, laced by annoyance.
"Then why did you call him that?" Emanuello was feeling annoyed as well.
She cocked her head. "He is a man of faith. What else would I call him?"
"A priest." Emanuello answered, muffling a groan. Goric sent him a glance that he ignored. "Alright, now tell me why you came here."
"We came to warn you about a beastmen attack. I… got sidetracked." She turned away with a blush. Raffaelo added a stronger annoyed look.
"Do you really expect us to believe that?" Emanuello laughed. "That some army of beastmen strong enough to take entire towns would materialize out of nowhere and just attack us?" He sighed, hoping that he could have avoided this. Witch she may be, Emanuello wasn´t one who liked to see people tortured, even if they had almost killed him twice so far. Hopefully the threat of it would be enough.
With a wave of his hand he ordered one of his men forward. "If you insist on continually keeping up that charade, I'm afraid that I will have to resort to ha-"
A boom echoed in the distance; a second later the stone walls shook like a quake, dust falling from the ceiling. Emanuello spaced his legs immediately, sending a fearful look upwards at a crack that tore apart a sizable chunk of the wall, groaning unsteadily but after a second failing to collapse on their heads. Something very big slammed against one wall, threatening to break it down from the impact.
"What was that?!" One of his men quivered in terror. Dust floated through the windows, bringing with it the sounds of crashing rock and distant screams.
"Like a bloody cannon blew up." Goric snapped, suddenly turning to the direction it came from. "Wait, that sounded like… where the walls are!"
"What? How?!" Emanuello was about to dart out to see what happened for himself, but he had to stop because of that accursed witch. Raffaelo was as shocked as his men, but Erza didn't; she turned her head to the direction of the blast (how powerful must it be to hear all the way in the jail) without fear. Just narrowing her eyes, the chains clinking from her straining against them.
Shaking his head, Emanuello joined his guards in rushing out of the jail. They had to bypass the main entrance due to it collapsing, instead rushing through a collapsed wall into a scene of chaos; he gawked at the collapsed buildings, flattened like a gigantic bomb went off. Which may very well have happened, once he saw Corno's wall. Or what was the wall, a sizable chunk of it was a pile of rubble that gave a wide opening for attackers.
He froze, hearing a twisted roar that sounded almost like a donkey's bray. Then a lot of them, a calvacade of bestial roars that drowned out the shouts of town guards and screams of injured citizens. In the gloom he saw a vast number of shapes clamoring over the rubble into Corno. A whiff reached his nose by the time he identified the creatures, balking at the stench.
"Beastmen. She was right." Emanuello whispered, gulping. "Myrmidia help us, she was right."