Predecessor's Memories

A swishing noise echoed in the armory. After centuries of stagnation, the silence within the room had finally been broken, courtesy of the citadel's new master.

Uriel swung a sword in the air, as if trying to strike down an invisible foe. She took a series of careful steps that displayed precision and grace. She quickly and easily switched to a number of different stances and poses, after delivering a strike. Uriel did everything she could to move both quickly and precisely.

After delivering what appeared to be a killing blow, Uriel took a moment to rest and inspect herself. Sweat ran down her face. She panted softly, as her hands quivered a little; tense from her swings and movements.

To a commoner or even a novice, Uriel would have looked impressive and quite dangerous. However, to either a master or any seasoned warrior, her performance seemed to be fine. Just fine. Uriel frowned, for she knew that she was not at her best.

For reasons that she could not quite explain, something had happened to her body. It felt as if it had been replaced with a brand new one. Every scar, injury, and blemish that she had ever received had been healed and cleansed from her body. Unfortunately, it seems that also her own strength had been affected.

Uriel noticed that she did not move as fast as she usually did. The weight of a common sword seemed to even burden her a little more than it usually did. Uriel did not know or understand what had happened to her, but she needed to return to her original self.

With a sigh, Uriel took up her sword and prepared to go another round. Her hands shook, causing the sword the tremble as well. Her breathing went a little rugged, while her heart raced, begging for some respite. Despite this, she shook off her the fatigue, and readied to continue. She took a stance, and readied to move.

"My lady, I have brought some refreshments!" Mycelia suddenly entered the room, holding a tray of some food and drink.

The elf's entrance caused Uriel to lose focus for a while. "Ah, thank you," she grunted, trying to concentrate. "Just put it over there."

Mycelia placed the food on a small table. The scent of simmered meat and vegetables drifted into the air, and made its way to Uriel's nostrils. After one quick sniff, Uriel's stomach growled. Her muscles weakened, and her mouth began to water. Unable to further ignore her body's needs, Uriel finally placed the old sword away.

She approached the table and inspected the food. It was a stew of some sort. Bits of parsnip and mushroom were seen around the thick soup, accompanied by a few chunks of meat. Taking another sniff, Uriel inhaled the scent and swallowed. Although nothing went down her mouth, it almost felt as if she had already taken a bite out of the dish.

Taking a spoon, Uriel scooped a morsel of the dish. The first few bites were slow and tender. She allowed the meat to roll on her tongue, until she was able to guess what she was eating. After chewing a few times, Uriel found the meat to be lean, but at the same time quite tough. She then swallowed.

"Is this hare?" Uriel asked.

Mycelia nodded.

With the short mystery solved, Uriel proceeded to eat the rest of the dish. Her teeth sank into the meat, squeezing out the juices. A rainbow of flavors trickled through her tongue, making her taste buds dance with delight. Uriel's cheeks turned red, as she moaned ecstatically. It may have been presented in a rather dull fashion, but it had a taste that would have put royal cooks to shame.

"How is it, my lady?" Mycelia asked.

"It is quite delicious," Uriel replied with one cheek full. She chewed slowly, savoring the flavor and taste in her mouth. "You're quite the cook."

"I am pleased that it is to your liking, my lady," Mycelia bowed. She did not attempt to hide her smile. "Speaking of which, how are the new clothes I found for you?"

Uriel inspected her body. No longer did she wear the courtesan's dress. Now, she sported a black tunic with a golden buttons, and grey breeches decorated with a few patches of darker shades. It may have not been the finest of clothing, but she did find it more suitable.

"It is fine," Uriel answered.

"I am most pleased," Mycelia repeated.

As Uriel continued to eat, she noticed something a tad off about her attendant. Mycelia simply stood there, watching her like some sort of sentry. Mycelia did not say a word. She barely even blinked. No, she merely stared with a sharp gaze. Uriel felt as if a dagger were slowly piercing her, burrowing through her skin and into her bones.

Something was tinkering in the mind of this Dark-Elf. She was not just waiting for her lady to finish eating. She wanted something, but just wasn't speaking.

"Is something the matter?" Uriel asked, unable to continue eating.

Mycelia sucked in her lips and then gulped. "My lady, I am quite curious to know," she began. "Have you been able to piece together the images you had seen, three days ago?"

Uriel froze. The spoon was just about to enter her mouth. She placed her dish down and recalled the images she had seen from the rusted suit. It seemed too fast to comprehend, at first. However, after allowing the images to organize in her head for three days, Uriel eventually managed to piece things together.

"Memories…" Uriel answered, quickly recollecting a few. "Memories of the Overlord."

"Truly?" Mycelia stood on her toes. She was answered with a nod. "What did you see?"

Uriel bit her lip. Everything that she saw felt so vivid, as if she herself actually experienced them all herself. She felt as if she had spoken every word, done every deed, and experienced every sensation from those memories, as if they actually belonged to her.

With one soft sigh, Uriel spoke. "This is what I saw…"

She closed her eyes, recalling the memories. She remembered travelling through the hallway. It had no debris. Darkness and shadows still filled it, but in a manner that displayed a sense of mysticism. Banners of various factions and allies hung proudly upon the walls. She…

…He travelled through the corridor that led straight to his treasure. His metal boots made loud clanking footsteps throughout the corridor, announcing his presence. A furious aura emitted from the Overlord, like wildfire choking victims with smoke and heat.

Goblin whelps spotted their Overlord, but they did not stop to greet or even bow to him. Instead, they immediately dispersed from the path. They climbed the walls, and retreated into the rooms, just to escape his direction. None of them would even dare look at his direction, or even let his shadow touch him.

Merciless, one of the Overlord's more personal swords, rested tightly in his hands. This weapon was often reserved for his most hated enemies. Carrying this weapon meant only one thing: someone had earned his ire. Any inconvenience, no matter how small or insignificant, would not be entertained or even tolerated. The goblins, as dimwitted as they may be, had enough wisdom to avoid their enraged master.

Eventually, he reached the end of his walk and arrived at the treasury, where vast piles of his wealth lay safe. It could have easily been described as paradise for those who worshipped gold as their gods. Pigs of finance could role in the coins and bathe themselves in their own greed. Five kingdoms could have poured all their wealth together, and it would still have paled in comparison to this ocean of wealth.

Stepping further into the vault, the Overlord soon spotted a certain individual. A lone knight stood at the center of all the treasure. His armor was silver like the moon, and his cape was as green as a pasture during the spring. Coins dropped from his fingers, ringing as they touched the others.

"Thinking of running off with your share, old friend?" the Overlord asked. He stopped in his tracks and stood a few feet from the knight.

"Such a grand vault filled with the dreams of many," the knight remarked, raising his head. "All this could easily help the needy and poor. It could turn peasants into kings, and make kings look like paupers."

"It is," the Overlord agreed, kicking a few coins. "However, in the end, it ultimately does not help them. The greed of men is an insatiable appetite that turns even the most charitable of men into avaricious demons."

"We have enough money to make a difference and help those in need," the knight growled. He slowly turned and gripped the coins in his fingers. "Yet we do none of that. Instead, we raise armies, forge weapons, and practice wicked arts!"

He threw the coins towards the Overlord. Some scattered around him, others clinked upon his metal boots.

The Overlord glared at the coins, before redirecting his attention towards knight. If this man were anyone else, he would have already been dead for just doing that. However, the Overlord refrained himself for his so-called friend. "It is all for the cause," he replied.

"Cause?" the knight laughed, and then threw the coins back to the pile. "What cause is that? We just destroyed five kingdoms, enslaved its people and brought ruin upon their lands!

The Overlord's weapon throbbed in his hand; a sign of his waning patience. "I tried to aid and guide the kings and leaders of this world, but they choose remain petty and selfish," he replied. "I am left with no choice, but to completely erase the old order, and replaced it with a new one."

"Does that justify burning villages and murdering the innocent?" the knight asked, his fist shaking. "We have cause so many unneeded deaths. Do you plan to create a new order out of blood?"

"There must be death before life, destruction before creation," the Overlord declared firmly. "Before we plant new crops, we must pull out the old. Get rid of them entirely."

The knight frowned. "It seems that I cannot reason with you," he snarled, drawing out his weapon. "If you will not listen to words, then perhaps you will listen to my blade."

"Come now, old friend," the Overlord extended his hand, and spoke with a condescending tone. "Do you honestly wish to challenge me?"

"You already knew I would," the knight responded, preparing a stance. "Is that not why you brought Merciless with you?"

The Overlord grinned, and softly chuckled. Suddenly, the chuckle turned into a thunderous laugh that shook the entire hall. Hills of coins began to collapse around them, as the torches violently flared to the crashing sound of his voice. Even bits of dust and dirt collapsed from the ceiling. It almost felt as if the earth were tearing the citadel apart.

"I dislike being proven wrong," the Overlord muttered, as he too prepared for a fight. "However, this may be the first time that I dislike being right."

"Believe me when I say, I didn't want it to come to this either," the knight grunted, shaking on the spot.

The Overlord twisted his sword's handle one last time, and then launched himself at the knight. Coins flew from his heels, as he charged directly at his foe. Only one thing ran through his mind, as he charged at a man whom he once considered a friend: end it quickly.

Slowly, the distance between them closed. As soon as he stepped within reach, the Overlord attacked without a sliver of hesitation. He swung his sword, filled with the intent to kill. His sword connected with the knight's weapon, making a loud and resounding clang in the air. Their battle had begun.

The two traded a series of fierce blows and strikes. They rocked the entire vault, causing the coins around them to tremble. Trinkets made tinkering noises, as if the treasure were applauding the clash.

Both the Overlord and knight fought with great intensity and fury. Nothing would have stopped them from tearing at one another's throats. Not even nature or the heavens themselves would have given pause to this clash.

The knight been through many battles and wars. His skills and abilities had been honed and sharpened to win just about any fight he threw himself into. Unfortunately, all that experience proved insufficient for this one encounter.

A sword flew into the air. It fell upon the coins. Its blade shattered into several fragments. The knight growled and stared at his sword. It had served him well for many years. Unfortunate that it had met its end.

"Surrender," the Overlord commanded, pointing Merciless at the knight's throat.

The Overlord had sustained damage. His armor had been dented in several places. Blood trickled down a few of his wounds, and his breathing sounded ragged. Despite his exhausted appearance, the Overlord remained tall and victorious.

The knight did not respond to the Overlord's command. His legs trembled, barely able to keep him standing. He felt ready to drop any moment. A child could have knocked him down. The knight no longer had the strength to continue, but he refused to back down.

The Overlord's fist shook. "Surrender!" he commanded again. Pushing his sword closer towards the knight's throat. "You have nothing left! You will die if you continue to stand against me!"

"Then I will die," the knight acknowledged.

"Your death will change nothing!" the Overlord snapped.

"It won't," the knight agreed. "However, I still choose to reject your plans."

The Overlord frowned and grit his teeth. "Silence," he muttered to himself.

"I will not stand by you, as you burn everything all around you," the knight went on.

"Silence," the Overlord repeated. His frown grew deeper, and his volume higher.

"When you asked me to join you, you said we would rebuild this world into something better, but you have actually made it worse," the knight huffed. He was nearing his final breath. "My fallen lord, I reject you and your foul vision for this world."

A vein popped in the Overlord's head. Swords, spears, axes and arrows had struck him many times before. However, the pain and injuries from those weapons were nothing, compared to the words now being thrown at him.

With a vicious roar, the Overlord raised his sword and plunged it right through the knight's chest. It pierced through the armor and body quite quickly. Blood painted half of the blade. However, rather than losing his life, the knight found his own spirit growing more stable and more rooted to his mortal coil.

"I curse you, old friend," the Overlord spat with utter disgust. He released his grip and allowed the sword to remain through the knight. "You will not die. Instead, you will remain here for all eternity. From that armor, you will watch as I bring ruin to this world, and then resurrect it into an Eden!"

The knight gasped and gave one last breath. His body had fallen into eternal slumber, but his consciousness remained awake. He could neither move nor speak. The knight's soul had been nailed into his very own armor.

The Overlord took a few steps back. Horror suddenly filled his face, realizing what he had done. The expression did not last, however. Swallowing his own disgust and regret, the Overlord turned and steeled his senses. He did the right thing. That's what he told himself, at least.

"I will bring order to this world…"

"…was the last the Overlord said," Uriel told, ending the story.

"Such a cruel curse," Mycelia remarked. "We Dark-Elves are very open to various magic, but such curses are forbidden, even to us."

Uriel grimaced. A large thump struck her chest. It was as if a fist had just punched from within her ribcage. Although she was not responsible, the memories forced false guilt upon her conscience. The memory attached itself to all of her senses, making Uriel feel as if she had done the deed herself.

"It was indeed terrible," Uriel shuddered at the pale description she had just given. She felt as if she had made light of the knight's plight.

"Such a frightful man the Overlord was," Mycelia huffed, twiddling her fingers. "I have heard things, but did not actually know he exacted such punishments. I understand a little better to why my people never committed to serving him."

"Are you now doubting your decision?" Uriel asked.

Mycelia shook her head. "You are now the Overlord," she replied, pounding her chest. "It is your banner that I will follow. Even if your predecessor returns, I will stand by your side."

A small smirk lifted on Uriel's face. Loyalty was a rare commodity, even amongst knights. Uriel heard many men and women recite oaths of fealty to kings and lords, but knew most did this out of obligation to pass knighthood. Uriel began to wonder: Was Mycelia showing genuine loyalty, or was she just spouting pretty words?

"I will not be like the previous Overlord," Uriel declared.

"I will keep you to your -," before she could finish her sentence, Mycelia jerked. She looked as if she had just been stung by a wasp.

"What's wrong?" Uriel asked.

"Intruders have entered Nul Hunur."