Argrave and Anneliese crouched near a redwood tree. Both had heavy, tired eyes, but upon looking at the other in the eye they were renewed with flame. They exchanged a nod of tacit understanding, and then Argrave rose up and walked ahead alone.
Though his steps were heavy and he took them slowly in anticipation for what was to come... nothing did. He walked into a relatively open clearing between many redwood trees, where nothing could be seen for miles in any direction. Five steps... ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, and thirty.
The moment that Argrave lost count, all the ground in a circle around him exploded upwards. Thin, spindly roots sought him out like leeches in water, aiming for all of him at once. Artur’s enchantments whirred to life, protecting him ably for a few seconds before they failed. Argrave prepared no spells. He accepted the seizure without offering resistance. Before long he was totally bound, and he felt the faintest branches of roots digging into the skin on his arms and legs. His hands in particular were fully pierced, allowing no movement.
The giant elven god Merata stepped out from one of the redwoods, reforming the thing in wake of his advance. His long blonde hair that scraped the ground was marred by burns, and cut in half a thousand places to make it uneven and unkempt... more so than it was, at least. After him came Gunlik, crouching down and scouting out the place while keeping his flaming arrow pointed at Argrave. Beyond Argrave saw more figures, beaten and battered.
“We’ve been betrayed before. Fooled before,” Merata began, leaning on his crook as he walked. “How you came to us speaks well of your intentions. What happened days prior makes all of us care less.”
“I don’t think we should talk. Tread alone, trust only ourselves,” Gunlik said, pulling his bowstring of flame back further.
“We trusted Chiteng, and now our father lies on death’s door,” Merata reminded him, and Gunlik’s grip slackened on his bow somewhat. He walked to Argrave slowly, looking down at him. “Do you know what happened, little kingling?”
“Chiteng saw Erlebnis’ Blessing of Supersession within my person with the omniscience granted to him in his sections of your realm. With this knowledge, he contacted Erlebnis on his own. From there... I don’t think I need to go on,” Argrave lifted his head up.
“So you are Erlebnis’ pawn,” Merata fell to the ground, sitting. The dirt displaced by this action caught in Argrave’s throat, and he coughed.
“I sought him out for strength,” Argrave explained, voice hoarse from the dirt. “Traded knowledge for knowledge. But I was never his. He tried to make it otherwise, and I played along... but given how the forest changed, I think you know my true allegiance.”
Merata nodded. “I wonder if you will say the same thing when your insides are bored out by roots for several days.”
The elven god demonstrated this, sending his roots all the deeper into Argrave’s person. He hissed in pain, but gradually started to laugh as he embraced it. He laughed until his throat was sealed shut by a strangling root. Only after a few seconds did the pressure relent.
“...you could go that route,” Argrave finally managed, voice as deep and hoarse as Galamon’s after the strangling. “But the truth won’t change.”
Merata slammed his crook into the ground behind him and leaned back on it, sighing. Slowly, the roots around Argrave relented, giving him freedom. Argrave fell to the ground expecting pain to greet him, but when he impacted he felt... perfectly whole, as a matter of fact. He looked at his hands and saw nothing.
“He bears nothing?” Gunlik asked Merata.
“No. Beyond that Blessing of Supersession, he has no further stigma from another god,” Merata shook his head. “I examined your insides, little kingling. Do not take it personally. I talked to the dryads, spreading throughout this land even now. I heard what they said... of you, of your endeavors. But given... your duplicitous nature, I needed surety you were not another’s.”
Argrave rubbed his throat, as it was the only thing truly hurt. Indeed, all of him was fine, and that baffled him beyond belief. Eventually he managed, “...maybe I deserved that, failing as I did.”
“This failure was Chiteng’s. And ours. We did not learn from Sarikiz’s betrayal,” Merata mused. “Why did you return?”
Argrave gathered his pitch, preparing himself. “The dryads helped me estrange Kirel Qircassia from Erlebnis, but that bond might not be fully severed. We have a moment of pause as Erlebnis reassesses the situation. Victory is still feasible.”
Gunlik laughed, while Merata shook his head crossly.
“Victory is still feasible, if you bury the hatchet with Sarikiz,” Argrave called out firmly.
Silence persisted between the two godly brothers. Gunlik finally managed, “Even if we could, why would we?”
“Before, the plan was to manipulate Sarikiz into attacking Kirel Qircassia, forcing her to close the breach,” Argrave explained. “Now... if you go to her open-handed, and allow her victory... it closes this chapter, and might earn us victory. Kirel governs land and sky-- she would love nothing more than to pillage his realm, bring all of the centaurs with her on this. I cannot do as I intended before, but you can. Only you can.”
“It’s ridiculous. We cannot go hat in hand to the people our elves have been fighting for centuries, and--” Gunlik began ranting, but then turned his head when noise echoed out from further beyond.
Argrave saw Ghan walk up, placing his hand on the redwood for support. As Anneliese had described, he had a gnarly cut from his throat all the way down his chest, ending at his groin.
“Bring him,” Ghan commanded, voice still strong despite the death that lingered about him. “Bring him, and his queen. Despite his initial dishonesty, he was faithful. We must discuss how this ends... and I believe he’s earned some say in my succession.”
#####
“We should wait for the last person to arrive,” Altan said, her voice strained as she tapped her foot against the ground anxiously. “Argrave deserves some say in this, given how far we’ve come. Isn’t that right, Batbayar?” she looked to him for support.
The gaze that the myriarch gave her was cold, and her gaze slowly went from hopeful to one of anxiety. Gradually, another myriarch said quietly, “He won’t be coming, Acting Supreme Myriarch. This meeting isn’t about the succession.”
“What, then? Is there some new development?” she asked hopefully, though outwardly her body braced as though preparing to flee. Behind, some more elven warriors entered behind, and she grew tenser yet.
“This is a detainment before a trial,” Batbayar explained. “The other myriarchs have reviewed my evidence... and there is enough to detain you before a final judgment is made.”
Altan reached into her pocket to retrieve something, but by the time she pulled it out an arrow already pierced her wrist. She cried out in pain, and another warrior already stepped up to pull the thing from her hand. It was a red, flat stone of some kind... and it was blinking.
“I tried to save you all,” she spat out through gritted teeth, half anger and half sorrow. “There’s no stopping the Lord, don’t you see? Do you think we truly could have escaped from those monstrosities if not for my intervention? It’s over! The battle was over to begin with! What are we before gods?! Don’t throw the lives of everyone to the wayside, please!” she pleaded, with such earnestness in her belief some seemed stirred.
“Victory was assured only because of your betrayal,” Batbayar said in judgment, and then pulled taut a wire. “You have admitted guilt, Altan. Does everyone here agree?” he looked back.
Ever so slowly, all of the other myriarchs gave nods of confirmation. Batbayar nodded, and then looked back.
“Then... detain her. She is to be interrogated,” he said passively.
“...don’t let it be for nothing,” she begged, even as her wrist bled copiously.
“It won’t be,” Batbayar shook his head. “We will learn from your betrayal. Our army will still grow stronger yet. But you will not be around to witness that.”
#####
“That can’t be right,” Onychinusa said desperately. “This is a good thing for the Lord. It has to be a good thing.”
The emissary regarded her passively, standing before the shrine to Erlebnis. “Kirel Qircassia is useful to the Lord. Now, the god has regathered his forces at his breach, and remains undecided as to how he will proceed. Though this may be salvaged yet, the fact remains that it places the Lord in a terrible position for the immediate future. Something must be given as a show of sincerity, perhaps.”
“But I... the Lord needed me to do it,” she said, her voice choked. “He needed me to do what he could not. It was necessary. The Lord cannot exist alongside the coalition.”
The emissary stared at her. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Onychinusa stared for a long while, and neither spoke a word. Finally, she nodded. “I did it. I did what the Lord could not. That’s... that’s what was needed of me. That was my purpose. It always has been. That’s why... that’s why you sent me there, had me do those things... it is,” she insisted.
The emissary lifted its head, staring at her. Its eye retracted back into its head, revealing the reddish mercury that indicated it communed with Erlebnis. Finally, its eye returned. It raised a hand, and a mana ripple spread out. A red chain of that same reddish mercury lunged out of the emissaries hand, and Onychinusa screamed in shock and jumped to the side.
The chain pierced her shoulder. She tried to dissipate into magic, but something about the chain interfered with this process. She stood in shock, tugging on the chain as it anchored her in place. The emissary turned its hand and cast another spell, but she was quick enough to cast a ward to block the great blast of lightning that came next. The emissary assailed her ward, using its Blessing of Supersession wantonly as other emissaries emerged from the shrine behind it.
In time, their power was added together, and they ruthlessly wore her down in pursuit of her death. Onychinusa could not disperse with her A-rank ascension, and so she stood in mute panic and shock, defending only because it was her natural instinct to do so. Soon her defense failed, and a sword of wind cut her leg off. She fell to the ground, bleeding quickly as more wards blocked the next attacks that came.
As their power began to overcome the defenses she could create, adding more and more injuries... the ground rumbled. The emissaries backed away, looking around in complete composure. Then, a flash of brown and purple erupted outwards from the ground.
The emissaries walked back slowly, calling upon fire to greet the sudden plant growth. A strange mist emerged, somewhat diminishing the impact of this fire. More and more trees with purple leaves erupted outwards from the ground, blocking every bit of sight. But just as they came, so too did more emissaries come from Erlebnis’ shrine.
As Onychinusa stood bleeding and shocked, these trees coiled around her with a gentle embrace. Branches and leaves wrapped around her, almost in cocoon, and hands emerged to grasp the red chain anchored into her flesh. Dryads stepped out, fighting fiercely with this foul magic.
A final wave of fire burnt away all of what the dryads had summoned. The emissaries prepared for their next assault, but as the spells flew to end their defensive the chain shattered. Though it persisted in her flesh, it could hold her here no longer. The dryads dragged her away into the ground, and she quickly vanished beneath a hail of spells and writhing roots.
The emissaries stepped into the emptiness left by the dryads actions slowly, but paused after going far. “Those were dryads. We cannot go beyond this shrine-- we did not exit from the breach. Return and commune with the others,” one told another.
“We can extrapolate the king as a traitor,” one commented. “She traveled with him, as a point of fact.”
“Send word to Dimocles and the emissaries he leads. They watch the centaurs and Sarikiz, so perhaps they can catch her and the dryads escorting her,” the last finished.
#####
“It’s him,” Anneliese nodded as her Starsparrow landed back on her shoulder. “Dimocles paces about the entrance to the centaurs’ caves leading to the Mother’s Steppes in a frenzy. He was impossible to read before... but he oozes indecision and panic.”
Argrave laughed with pleasure. “Well... we thought they might keep someone near Sarikiz, make sure that she caused no trouble for them. That’s why we went to the elven gods first. But sometimes, you just get a little lucky. Sometimes, you’re in the right place at the right time.”
“What does this mean for you?” Merata, behind and far above, asked quietly.
Argrave looked back. “It’s wholly positive. We’re going to put an end to this,” he swore. “To put it simply... one more piece falls into place.”
With that, Argrave rolled his shoulders. He was rather looking forward to having a conversation with Dimocles... because this time, Argrave held the boot to his throat. He fished into his pocket, freeing the miniature cabinet and squeezing it tight.
