Halkegenia Online - Chapter 10 - Part 4
Sir Terrance Dunwell had always been an observant man. From a young age he had learned to pay close attention to his surroundings. So when he was offered a new source of information about his enemies, their origins, and their weaknesses, he naturally listened. He listened, but he did not quite believe.
Dunwell was forced to marvel at the power of whatever magic Lord Cromwell had used to reanimate the 'Fae' even as it sickened him. Not only was it able to restore them to a state that was almost indistinguishable from life, if Lord Cromwell was to be believed, the reanimated Faeries were incapable of deliberately lying to their new masters. This would have proven a great boon if only what the Fae had told them would deign to make any sense.
The Faeries were not warriors, were not even Faeries in fact, the reality was much stranger than anything Dunwell might have dreamed up. Not Faeries, humans, and not warriors, just children and commoners. Impossible, but the girl called 'Aki' and the man who called himself 'Arguile' insisted that it was the truth.
A game, it had all been a game. In the world that the Fae were from, another world, the people had developed artifacts that allowed the mind to be transported into an imaginary realm, a sort of mass consensual hallucination. Such an artifact would have required powerful illusion magic to replicate, but by the methods of artisanry available to the Faeries, these devices could be made available to all but the poorest commoners. Dunwell tried to envision a world with such mastery. His imagination failed him.
In one of these illusory worlds stood a floating castle of stone and iron inhabited by hordes of monsters. This game, 'Sword Art Online', had been anticipated by its followers like a new play on opening night. Ten thousand loyal fans had dove into this world on its opening day to take the role of Ivaldic heroes fighting to reach the top of the castle and earn the praise and adulation of their fellows. That had been what they had expected, the reality had been far different.
A man, the creator of the game and the artifacts, had tampered with the players' 'Nerve Gear' in order to trap them within the illusion and render onto them the penalty of death if they were to die within the illusion. Their only hope had been a bargain offered by their captor, reach the top of the castle and earn freedom. But before that goal had been achieved, their tormentor had been discovered among them and slain by their greatest champion. That should have been the end.
The death of the creator should have released the players back into the real world, and for most it had. However, three hundred of the players had somehow ended up here. Their supernatural strength and skill from the realm of illusions somehow made real in being brought to Halkegenia. No matter how they were questioned, neither Aki nor Arguile could offer an explanation. The only thing that they were certain of was that this could not be a result of the tampering done to their 'Nerve Gear' any more than a wand could spontaneously cast spells on its own.
To think that such physical prowess would simply fall into the hands of school children and commoners. Dunwell would have laughed at the absurdity if he had not witnessed it for himself, and seen with deadly certainty how dangerous these 'Faeries' were.
"Then the winged girl is nothing more than some Nobleman's daughter?" Dunwell asked with disbelief. No, that wasn't right. Even if she had started as some helpless child, the trials she must have faced, even in a world of illusions, had transformed her into the fierce, winged swordswoman he'd confronted at the edge of the world.
Seated across from him at the dining table was the Faerie swordsman who referred to himself as 'Arguile' though the name was apparently only an alias used when playing the illusion games. The man's real name was much stranger, in either case, Lord Cromwell had taken a liking to the Fae's aliases and insisted they be addressed as such. The dead offered no complaints.
Externally there was hardly a mark to suggest the devastating trauma that had led to his death. The Palace water mages had spent much of the night mending the cadaver so that Arguile would possess the lungs needed to speak after being resurrected. Similar work had been done to Aki so that she could move without being hindered by damaged bone and wood splinters. Presently, the Faerie swordsman was dressed in the uniform of a cavalryman, in his clothing having been badly damaged and blood stained.
Lord Cromwell had invited Sir Dunwell and Sir Wells to finish where they had left off the night before over a late breakfast served in one of the Palace's smaller dining rooms overlooking the rose garden. Maidservants bustled in and out of the room delivering a constant stream of plates and trays, sparring the Faeries only a brief glance before begging other business and fleeing. Dunwell narrowed his eyes, rumor was fast spreading, Lord Cromwell would have to make an official announcement soon.
"Our homeland does not possess a formal system of nobility like the one in this country." Arguile explained easily. "But my impression is that Asuna-sama is from a wealthy family, people that you might consider a sort of nobility." Dunwell shifted uncomfortably, there was something quite disconcerting about the way that the resurrected Fae tended to stare while speaking. "However, I would advise that you never think of her as 'Nothing more than a Nobleman's daughter'. Asuna-sama survived on the front lines of Aincrad for over two years. She is anything if not exceptional."
Dunwell nodded to himself, duly noted, he had come to the same conclusion, he had no intention of being caught off guard again.
"These front lines . . . The men and women who fought on them were 'Clearers' such as yourself?" Lord Cromwell asked from his seat at the head of the table.
"Yes." Arguile nodded. "The strongest players organized into the strongest guilds, equipped with the best weapons, and led by the best strategists. Asuna-sama possess all of these things. Do not underestimate her Knights of Blood, most of all, do not underestimate her."
Lord Cromwell leaned back with a bemused expression. "My, this is most fascinating, would you not agree Sir Wells? Oh, my manners, Aki my dear would you please poor Sir Wells another cup of tea."
Sir Wells leaned away cautiously as the Faerie girl obediently poured a fresh cup of tea. Aki's clothing had suffered only minor damage in the fight that had lead to her death, however, her garments had yet to be properly mended and she was instead presently garbed in a cavalryman's uniform requisitioned from the palace quarter masters. The smallest cut of the uniform was barely small enough to be hemmed to the girl's size and combined with the long red riding jacket, she would have looked almost comically endearing if not for the saber that rested easily on her hip.
Her weapon had weathered the battle much better than its master, though prying it from the hands of the Earth Mages had proven difficult, the blade's structure and composition had them quite fascinated.
"Yes . . . most fascinating." Sir Wells said with open discomfort. "I . . . am reminded, not for the first time, of the reports we have been receiving from our agents on the mainland."
"The Fae that have appeared in Tristain and the 'World Tree' that has appeared at the heart of the country." Lord Cromwell reviewed. "Most certainly linked to the arrival of of our new friends." He agreed. "More of these Sword Art Online survivors?"
"Denizens of ALfheim actually." Arguile supplied.
"ALfheim? Another of these imaginary worlds?" Dunwell asked. How many such worlds had the people of that other world created, and was there any risks of others appearing in Halkegenia?
Arguile nodded. "Built upon the same engine as SAO in point of fact. As far as we can determine, it is in part because of ALfheim that our appearance in this world is that of Faeries rather than humans. Our game data was being stored on the ALfheim server after the completion of SAO and must have been interpreted as player data for one of the Faerie Races."
"I do believe it would be most convenient for everyone if we continue to refer to you all as Faeries." Cromwell observed as he took a sip of his own tea. "To avoid confusing our allies."
The Knight Captain snorted at the comment. He knew how this game was played all too well. These resurrected Faeries were more useful to Lord Cromwell as 'Fae' than strange eared humans. Perhaps they would even be labeled 'Elves' when the public was told. The power to turn the Great Enemy against itself would make for a powerful propaganda tool.
"As you wish, Cromwell-sama." Arguile replied without a hint of dissent.
Dunwell steeped his fingers as he thought. "Then these Fae on the continent, they are not survivors of the death game?"
"Doubtful." Arguile said. "I think it would be some time, if ever, before many of the SAO players would be willing to try another full dive game. Although . . . There is possibly one. I recall Asuna-sama telling me that the Black Swordsman may also be here."
'The Black Swordsman?' The equivalent of a runic title? Some sort of mark of chivalry? Dunwell wondered.
"Our reports say that the Fae in Tristain possess powerful magic as well as the power of flight." Sir Wells noted. "Can we expect to see the same from the ones here in Albion?"
The reanimated cadaver seemed to give the question some thought, blinking mechanically several times. "I cannot say for sure." Arguile admitted. "At the time I was killed, none of us had succeeded in materializing our wings, and even Asuna-sama had only demonstrated a limited amount of control over her own. And even if we can perform magic, none of the Faeries in the Knights of Blood know any of the ALfheim spells."
"So we need merely concern ourselves with super humanly strong and swift Faeries rather than super humanly strong and swift Faeries who can also fly and cast magic." Sir Wells commented bitterly.
"What do you plan to do about this, Sir Dunwell?" Lord Cromwell asked.
"Sir?" Sir Dunwell asked.
Lord Cromwell smiled warmly. "You have been entrusted with this matter since its beginning in York and I see no reason to change that. Your service to our cause does you credit. How must we proceed?"
Dunwell nodded slowly and closed his eyes. They were not warriors, they were not Faeries, just women and children. But dangerous women and children, deadly with a blade and allied to the Royalists. Dunwell had cut any lingering trace of sentimentality from himself long ago. He would not underestimate an enemy just because they wore the face of a child. What was worse, the rumors that were spreading like the plague from Skiesedge and Queenswall. They needed to be nipped in the bud before they did disproportionate damage.
"Eliminating the Faeries will be difficult . . . But necessary." Dunwell concluded, glancing to Arguile. The resurrected swordsman seemed utterly unperturbed by the mention of slaying his former comrades. Not for the first time, Dunwell shuddered inside.
"Oh?" Lord Cromwell asked as he plucked a scone from a basket before him and lightly buttered it. It was the first thing Dunwell had seen the man eat the entire meal. "Regrettable but true." Cromwell's eyes brightened. "Their fall will make a great tale to remind the people that the White Isle belongs to Brimir's chosen!"
"Indeed." Dunwell said. "But that will come later. My concerns are over a more pressing matter. There has been word spreading among the men and in the towns around York. Rumors about the Faeries. I suspect they have their origin in the old wives tales."
No, he didn't just suspect. Dunwell's father had been a printer, producing bibles and broadsheets for the church, and from time to time, special orders. Though the Church of Brimir was generally intolerant of Fairy Tales, the least offensive, altered to defer to the Founder's Holiness, had been permitted to be printed in mythology texts referring to the spirits and firstborn races. As a child, Dunwell had read those stories late into the night. A spark of childish wonder flickered in him for a moment, only to vanish. Those old wives tales were about to become something far more dangerous.
"Yes, I believe I've heard something about this." Lord Cromwell sighed. "The worst part of heresy. Just as you think it has been rooted out, it rears its ugly head."
"Be that as it may." Dunwell said. "There is a certain appeal to these old tales among the common people. It is being said that a child of Medb has returned to the White Isle. That these Faeries are just the first and that their brethren in Tristain will soon come to their aid."
"And will they?" Cromwell asked curiously. "Come to their aid that is."
"I can't be certain." Sir Dunwell confessed. "I find it doubtful. None have ever succeeded in an invasion of the White Isle. There is no reason to think things will be any different for these Fae. But even if they do not set foot on the Isle, the unrest that they sew could prove difficult to quell. So far the rumors are located to a few isolated regions, but they will spread with every day the Faerie's draw breath."
For the first time that morning, Lord Cromwell's expression grew sober. Propaganda was something that the spokesman of Reconquista was abundantly familiar with, as a Priest it was almost his native tongue. "Most troubling." Cromwell decided, shaking his head. "But what is trouble but a way to prove our love for God? You have a plan, I suppose."
Truthfully, Dunwell had nothing, but one thing was certain. "First I need to make my way to Newcastle." The Knight Captain said.
"Newcastle?" Cromwell repeated. "You believe that the Faeries are there?"
Dunwell nodded gravely. "I saw the HMS Eagle for myself at Skiesedge. The Royalists are managing to slip the blockade somehow. I suspect they are using the mists to cover their arrival and departure from Newcastle. If that is the case, then Newcastle will be the only safe haven for the Faeries as it is for the Royalists"
Lord Cromwell's frown deepened. "How is that possible? The Admirals have informed me that maneuvering beneath the mists around Newcastle is impossibly treacherous. Would the Eagle not simply be dashed against the underside of the Isle?"
Dunwell sighed, of course the 'Admiralty' would say something like that. To have the most advanced fleet in all of Halkegenia placed into the hands of men who had never commanded anything more than their private Yachts, much less done battle in the skies, it was a disgrace! As he had once told his students, an opponent who did not know the skies was not an intelligent enemy.
"For normal ships and normal crews, the Admirals would be correct." Dunwell explained. "What they neglect to mention is that the HMS Eagle is of an advanced class of Frigates and that she is helmed by Royal Navigators. If anyone can do the impossible, it is the Prince and his men. Wales is as skilled a ship's captain as his eldest brother, and still possessed of the idealistic daring to take such risks casually."
"Then we should send the Fleet to search beneath the Isle." Cromwell decided quickly. "I will discuss it with the Admirals at this afternoon's roundtable."
"That would be unwise, Lord Cromwell." Dunwell rubbed his eyes tiredly as he reminded himself that he was speaking to a novice rather than a seasoned military man. "The Admirals are correct that the underside of the Isle, especially around Newcastle, is incredibly treacherous. We would lose ships simply to the winds and low visibility. Better would be to expand the blockade. I'd suggest expanding the Dragon Knight patrols and assigning ships to take soundings in the mists. There will be only a limited number of safe routes along the underside of the Isle. If we can find them, the blockade will at last be completed and the Royalists will truly be trapped."
"And the Faeries as well." Cromwell said.
"And the Faeries as well." Dunwell agreed. "Then it will only be a matter of reducing Newcastle."
"A difficult proposition, even for our cause." Lord Cromwell observed as he placed his teacup aside.
Sir Dunwell shrugged. "Newcastle is but a single fortress, my Lord. A superbly built defensive position, but with no hope of reinforcements or resupply. It can be reduced in time with little risk. We must concern ourselves only with containing the Royalists and Fae until their supplies are exhausted or they decide to sally for a raid. And when the happens," Dunwell breathed, "My Dragon Knights and I will be waiting."
"And we are thankful that is so." Cromwell nodded vigorously. "However, it would be preferred that the Royalist problem be dealt with sooner, rather than later. We must not be seen to be resting on our laurels by the rest of Halkegenia. Onward to the holy land! Onward to salvation! That is the message we must send!" Dunwell quirked his brow. Lord Cromwell couldn't truly be suggesting they storm the Fortress. That would be idiotic!
Cromwell gestured for Aki to refill his teacup, giving the girl a grandfatherly smile. "Fortunately, an ally to our cause may soon deliver Newcastle to us. And with it, the head of Prince Wales . . . among other things that will greatly aid us in our future campaigns."
"An ally?" Dunwell wondered. Was their a traitor in the Royalists midst?
Lord Cromwell stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Though, with these Faeries now in Newcastle it may be most difficult for him to complete his mission as originally planned. I believe you are right, Sir Dunwell. It would be for the best if you were to be ready to render him any assistance." A thick fingered hand settled on Aki's wrist as the girl set down the tea cup. "Aki my dear, that won't do at all, in death you have been given an opportunity for salvation. Rebirth in the glorious light of our Founder! Smile my child!"
Blinking twice the girl replied. "As you wish, Cromwell-sama." The Aki's neutral expression transformed, her lips curving up in a charming little close lipped smile.
"Much better!" Lord Cromwell said jovially and Dunwell winced. Between the powers of the magic sustaining her and her instructions to act 'happy', it was impossible to tell that the Faery girl had been dead for half a week. The magic must have been doing something above and beyond a normal spell of permanence to preserve her flesh like so in the face of constant activity.
"A thought has just occurred to me." Lord Cromwell said. "Aki my dear, I do believe that you and Sir Arguile should accompany Sir Dunwell and his men."
"My Lord?" Dunwell questioned even as Sir Wells nearly choked on his tea. "Would that not perhaps cause complications. Among the men I mean." He glanced to the ears of both Faeries which truly resembled those of Elves.
"Nonsense!" Cromwell waved a hand. "I am sure your men are disciplined and loyal enough to accept their new allies. I vouch that they will serve you well in your mission. In fact." The Leader of Reconquista looked to both Faeries. "Sir Arguile, Aki, I want you both to obey the orders given to you by Sir Dunwell and Sir Wells as if they were coming from me personally. Is that understood?"
"Of course. Cromwell-sama." Arguile bowed his head.
"As your wish, Cromwell-sama." Aki sounded almost reverent.
"There." Lord Cromwell said with a smile. "Both shall serve you faithfully and I am sure you will find use for them."
"Sir Arguile perhaps." Dunwell nodded reluctantly towards the Faerie swordsman. He had been a challenging in inelegant opponent in life. The Knight Captain suspected that if not for his years of experience, he would not have had the means to defeat him with pure magical ability. "But Miss Aki as well?" He had not been given the impression that she was a warrior.
"In Aincrad I was the guild leader of the Violet Hearts." Aki said as if giving her credentials. "It was a small ten man guild that only frequented the middle floors, but we maintained a good safety margin. I was level seventy three when the game was cleared and specialized in sabers and heavy assault lances."
Dunwell frowned, if he understood these 'levels' they were a way to measure the power of the players within the illusory world much like a mage's rankings but with far more subdivisions. Level seventy three would make Aki quite a capable fighter. "Yet you fled during the battle at Skiesedge."
The girl tilted her head, brown hair brushing against her shoulders. "Of course. I did not wish to die." Sir Wells' grip tightened around the handle of his teacup. "Just as every player did not have the mindset to be a clearer, not everyone who was a strong player is suited to be a soldier." She blinked. "I tried to fight, I cut down a man trying to kill one of the other players." Aki looked at her hands curiously. "I remember that my hands shook afterwords. But that isn't a problem anymore."
"It isn't?" Dunwell asked.
"No." Aki confirmed. "For I have been purified by the Founders holy light, to serve Reconquista's glorious cause, and in doing so achieve salvation!" The words were spoken with utter sincerity, something fed her to be parroted when appropriate. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the girl's eyes seemed to glint with a hollow light that made Dunwell's skin crawl. "I will not hesitate to deliver the Founder's justice to all that stand before Reconquista's holy cause."
"I assure you that they will be most useful to you." Lord Cromwell promised. "After all, they are both able bodied fighters, even more so now that they have been freed of their earthly frailties. And no one in all of Albion will better be able to advise you on the minds of our new enemies."
Dunwell starred at Aki and Aki starred back. She seemed expectant, eager to please. Or perhaps he was simply trying to place a layer of humanity over what was no more than a fleshy Golem. Yes, that was it. The string of a bow was made from animal sinew, rope from hair, magical artifacts from any number of once living reagents. If he thought of Aki and Arguile as Golems, as tools in the shapes of humans, the bile did not rise in his throat.
"We humbly accept your generous offer." Sir Dunwell said carefully. Sir Wells looked on, white faced. Dunwell glanced to Arguile. "We were not able to retrieve your sword. I will have the quartermasters issue you a new one before we depart."
"That would be appreciated." Arguile said with faux politeness.
Taking a long breath, Sir Dunwell placed his hands on the table and stood. His stomach felt hollow, empty, he hadn't touched a bite. "Then please make ready. I tolerate no hold ups in the forces under my command. We depart for the command post in Wallsend by noon."
