Chapter Ninety-Nine
The Templars held their camp around the city of Romalia. The knights could sleep safely within the holy city's walls, but the crusaders themselves were housed inside large tents, the barracks mostly filled to the brim already.
They were men of all nations, and all countries. They were the faithful, and they came to fight in the name of the Gods, of the Founder, and to reclaim the Holy Land from the devils that were the Elves. Their purpose was just, their will unshakable and unbroken.
And now they were learning how to fly. Not really, but the screams mixed with the sound of steel impacting against steel was always followed by dozens of men flying up in the air, one after the other.
There were thousands of crusaders, all eager, all ready to lay down their lives down in defense of the Holy City of Romalia, and yet as if they were nothing but paper, they began to crumble one after the other.
"Im-Impossible!" William exclaimed, a knight of the Templars, as he watched the ground ripple and quake under the swings of a mighty sword easily twice his size. "D-Demon!" he yelled next, fumbling for his wand as the creature was upon him in a second, left hand ablaze as the knight was backhanded off his horse, through a tent, and then came to a halt half covered in dirt and soot.
He'd live. His jaw would need time to be healed.
A strong and robust mercenary from Germania tried to swing his claymore down, only for it to be blocked by the Demon's greatsword, which swung to the side carrying the enemy's blade with it, and then the pommel of the greatsword stuck through the chestplate, shattering it and making the mercenary keel over.
A gauntlet punch later, and the brute flew into a formation of six knights.
The greatsword was swung once more, down on the ground like a battering ram. As musket fire ricocheted off it, the man wielding the blade jumped over it and threw himself forth still holding on to its handle. The swing of it generated enough air pressure to thoroughly send the musket line scattering, their bodies hitting the ground abruptly and falling unconscious.
"Don't overdue it, partner!" the Greatsword spoke with Derflinger's voice. "It's your life you're burning away!"
"And it's theirs I'm saving!" Saito retorted, rushing forward as his chest was ablaze just like his hand. The ground broke off in chips wherever he walked, the greatsword as light as a feather, but as a deadly instrument it was flawless. Only, he wasn't using it to kill people, just knock them out. He'd have gone with a warhammer, but hammers were made to turn into pulp the inner organs, while the blade wasn't. Out of the two, the flat of a blade or the flat side of a hammer, it was obvious which was less lethal.
The amount of crusaders was thinning too. Many had begun to run away rather than stand their ground. Some had started to plead. He still didn't stop. He broke bones. They'd heal, hopefully. They had water magic for that, didn't they? So they'd be all right.
Magic fire roared towards him, lines of fire and wind blades, but he spun his greatsword in front of him, and as the blade ignited with the magical power of the enemy's attacks, it was sent back in a devastating pillar of light, turning the ground to magma from the sheer scorching heat, and ending in ripples an inch away from the terrorized knights that held the line by the Holy City's walls who were now missing a good chunk of them.
The walls crumpled down, carrying with them the screams of the knights who fell amidst the rubble.
Hopefully not dead.
"His Holiness-The Pope!" the defenders murmured among themselves as the Pope showed his presence from the main road, his golden staff visible. His eyes were narrow, his expression one that could easily be considered 'pissed off'.
"You!" he snarled, his voice carrying on through the landscape as the earth began to cool down. "Why are you doing this? What did they tell you, that you so quickly headed over to their side? Don't you understand-you're condemning us all!"
"No I'm not!" Saito snapped back. "Surrender! I've found a solution-one that doesn't need bloodshed!"
The Pope clenched his staff with his right hand and bit down harshly on his lips. "A solution without bloodshed? So the Elves control your mind now, do they not? Well-then you'll have to go. Attack him all at once, faithful of the Gods! He is a Demon, and against the righteous, he shall never win! The Holy City will not-"
Saito was there, in front of him. He had jumped, and in jumping he had reached him. "Just shut up for once," Saito muttered, swinging the sword with enough strength that created a wall of air with merely the motion. The Pope's eyes were wide as Saito landed right in front of him. His eyes then rolled to the back of the head, the pressure too much to bear. He stumbled backwards, but Saito was quick to grab hold of him.
For the Gandalfr who truly wished for it, an army was nothing.
He could feel it, their eyes on his skin.
"Drop your weapons!" he snapped. "Drop them, now!" he slammed the greatsword on the ground, cracks spreading from the point of impact. Some of the men wielding their wands, or swords, were twice his age. There were a few in armor, a couple with beards that were short, but white. Why would they listen to him? He was just eighteen. He had ravaged through their camp, broke through the walls, knocked out their Pope, but why should they listen to him?
He clenched the handle of the greatsword tighter still, to the point where he heard the soft grumbling of Derflinger. "Don't ever hold a girl like this or she's going to cry," the blade said offhandedly.
They didn't, but neither did they stride forward. Perhaps they thought that with a hostage, he would be slowed down?
No, no he wouldn't.
Perhaps they thought that the Pope wouldn't want them to surrender?
Yes, perhaps they thought that.
Then maybe-maybe he just had to keep it up.
Louise Françoise Le Blanc de la Valliere hadn't slept in three days. Well, no, she had tried to sleep, but she always woke up, blasted something, and then tiredly fell unconscious for a few minutes before waking up again and repeating the motions.
She was going to murder a royal heir of the Founder, but she didn't really care about the implications of it.
The girl had the galls, no matter how many times Saito had forgiven her, to betray them one more time. No, honestly, she was beyond forgiveness. Even if Saito were to give her the most puppy-eyed look of all, she wouldn't stop until that treacherous blue-haired harlot was dead. She'd skewer her with a hundred of tiny holes, blast her limbs off one at the time-maybe she'd make her crawl and beg forgiveness, and then say 'no' and end her right where she stood.
Yes, perhaps she'd do that.
If only the damn ship went faster.
"Louis," the Princess-no, the Queen- Henrietta, once 'Anne' said gently from her side. Apparently, she wasn't answering to 'Louise', or 'Luise' either. "Are you going to blow up the birds again?"
Louise ground her teeth. "If they're in the way, your majesty," Louise answered primly. "And I like to think I'm annoying a hateful person by doing this," she added.
"I did not take you for someone who enjoyed animal cruelty, Louise," Henrietta said, shaking her head with her lips thin in displeasure, a cross look on her face.
"It's not being cruel. I am merely claiming the element of surprise," Louise replied quite calmly. She clutched her chest suddenly, nearly lurching over the guardrail of the flying ship as her vision swam slightly, one of her eyes no longer properly looking at the vast expanse ahead, but at blood.
There was so much blood.
A large Hydra, its many heads snapping and bearing down upon her, no-upon the vision of whoever she was looking through- and yet one head came less, cut neatly off. A second soon followed. She felt her legs give away as she fell down on her knees, holding with her hands the wooden rail for safety while closing her other eye.
She was seeing through Saito's eyes.
"Unhand the Pope!" that was Julio's voice, filled with scorn and anger.
"Stop! You're burning the city down!" Saito's voice came through. "Just listen to me!"
"There is no listening to the likes of you!" Julio's anger was palpable, even through the blurry vision that was now coming less. Why was the city on fire? Oh-dragons, there were many large dragons flying around overhead, casting down flames. "Because of you-look at what you've done!" Julio was apparently missing an arm, but he clutched the stump with his other hand, standing atop his dragon. "I lost control of so many-they won't listen!"
"And how is that my fault!?" Saito snapped back, angrily for once. "You just-you just reap what you sow! That's-"
The vision came less, and Louise took a deep, meaningful breath as she centered herself, reopening both of her eyes.
"Louise-Louise are you all right?" the Queen's voice came through worried, even though she had been so cross mere seconds before.
"Yes," Louise whispered hoarsely. "It's just-"
"Your highness!" a voice called from atop the ship's crow nest. "Romalia! The Holy City-The Holy City is burning!"
Louise shakily stood back up on her feet as she looked over the horizon, to where thick plumes of smoke were rising up in the sky, darkening it.
"We must hurry to-" she drowned out the Queen's voice, because she didn't want to hear it, not when she had to concentrate. With her swordwand out, she began to chant as the city grew closer and closer.
What they had done was unforgivable.
Thus, their punishment had to be exemplary.
That was what the Rule of Steel was all about, wasn't it?
Nobody steals a Valliere's man and lives in peace ever after. That was how the feud with the Zerbst had begun, and still held strong even after centuries, so for daring to steal her man?
She was going to blow it all up.
And leave a fuming crater in its place.
