Ch.39

The somber sky was blanketed with grey clouds, with snowflakes falling scarcely, but the war persisted. A siege would be held for the rural city of Embric a few days into the winter season, but because the sudden snowfall would halt their siege on the city walls, they would instead take up encampment just outside the gate. They would camp for two days before the gates opened themselves.

A crowd of soldiers stood at the gate with their weapons in hand, but they had no intention of fighting and were merely there to stop any invaders from forcing their way into the city. They sent out a single messenger, covered in thick fur clothing from head to toe.

As he stepped out into the open, the Fallenic Knights approached, their weapons sheathed.

The messenger was brought to Erik's tent at the center of the encampment, and forced to kneel before Erik who still wore his armor, but with his helmet taken off.

The man was trembling enough that he would be mistaken for shivering, if not for how warm it was within the tent or how thick his clothing was. He avoided eye contact, his gaze darting between the boots at the ground, while reaching into his coat to pull out a letter.

("A m-message... From the king.") He uttered in Telvanian, which Erik could understand almost fluently now.

He took the letter from the man, unfolding it and reading the words written in charcoal.

("Do you know what this letter says?") He asked the kneeling messenger.

("It is a letter of surrender. Your king has bargained for his life.")

("N-No...") He sputtered.

The messenger returned to the gate to inform the warry soldiers of the letter. Erik alone would venture into the city, being guided by a handful of soldiers to the king's castle.

He was brought to the castle entrance where a man wearing the pelt of a bear as a coat was awaiting his arrival. A handful of soldiers stood at his side, and from the simple crown on his head, Erik inferred that he was the king. Behind him stood his wife, son, and daughter. They all had worried expressions that changed to looks of confusion as Erik approached. Even the king himself was confused.

He swallowed his spit before speaking. ("I am Korol Andro Sliv'ek of Audder. You are?")

("I am King Erik Alexander Chamber of Innah'vadah, as well as Lord Fall of the Fallenic Temple.") He spoke Telvanian in communication with the king, but his titles remained the same which confused the man before him. ("I too, am a korol, king in Common.") He clarified.

("You... Are a Korol? You lead your army yourself?")

("I do.")

("I see. Come in.") He extended his hand toward the entrance. ("It is warmer inside.")

The castle was rural, with candles and animal pelts decorating the hall he walked down. The rug at his feet was filthy and seemed as if it hadn't been washed for years. The walls were made of stone, with cracks between the bricks that would make one fear its collapse.

As he followed behind the king and his family, he noticed the princess glancing back at him. She didn't seem fearful of him, but instead curious, but the moment her eyes met his, she faced forward with a frightful look.

They sat down for a meal in the dining room, the wooden chair creaking as he rested his weight on it. There was a crackling fire and multiple maids who were serving the food that had been prepared ahead of time. The maid who served him his food seemed wary of him, avoiding eye contact as she placed before him his meal: a simple soup and stale bread.

The king and his family sat at the other end of the table with a few empty chairs between them. The room was eerily silent, the maids waiting on standby, and the family just staring at their food.

Erik placed his elbow on the table and rested his chin against his knuckle. He made himself comfortable, a strange picture that made it seem as if he were the castle owner and they were the guests. The king stared at him, and he stared back.

Finally, Erik broke the silence. ("Such a plain meal.") He said. ("A lack of meat.")

("Forgive me... It is not that I was against offering you meat, but as it is winter already...")

("No need. I understand. It is just that in Innah'vadah, my kingdom, meat is not scarce.")

("Is that so...")

("I will make this simple. Your army has been defeated, with even the witch you paid to assist you having been captured. It is winter now, which will be hard enough to get through even without my men stationed at the gates to your city. You are defeated, so I will offer you a choice. I offer you salvation, purpose. Convert to the Fallenic faith and swear your loyalty to me.")

("Convert...? And to which god do you worship?")

("I worship no god, but my people worship me.")

("You take yourself for a god?")

("I am a god, far more real than the fictional gods the ignorant pray to.")

The king said not a word for a few moments as he stared blankly from across the table. His gaze then darted toward his son who spoke suddenly while looking at him. ("Father...")

The king then turned back to Erik. ("I take it... That if I were to accept?")

("My word would be law.")

("Then I can not.")

("You have already lost, this is hardly a time for you to decline.")

("I meant... That I can not accept myself... You are asking me, who is the king of my people, to throw down my honor and to surrender my people's freedom? Such a cowardly act would tarnish my name forever. I could not live as a king who surrendered everything to an invader, I'd rather die as a man who laid down his life for his countrymen.")

("Very well, and upon your death, who will succeed you?")

("My son. Knyaz Aleksandr Sliv'ek.")

("Father!") The prince's voice quivered as he jumped up from his seat, a look of alarm crossing his face.

The princess too, stood up from hers, both of them looking to the king who angrily told them: ("Sit down!") He was quick to calm himself, his gaze maintained on Erik from across the table. Calmly and as polite as he could, he asked. ("I ask that you allow me some time to prepare, just enough to explain to my family.")

("Of course. I shall await outside the castle entrance.") Erik pushed back his seat and stood up, leaving the room with a sweep of his cloak, drifting behind him.

Some few minutes passed before the king, now wearing leather armor and wielding a sword, came out of from the castle entrance with his son in tow. His wife and daughter stayed behind, but the king wanted his son to bear witness to the battle.

Erik stood patiently awaiting at the center of the opening. The king put his arm ahead of his son, urging him to stop while he continued on. He drew his blade, which he held steady with both hands.

A crowd of soldiers and citizens had formed on the outlines, with some watching from their own homes.

Erik conjured his blade.

("It is truly magic.") The king muttered, flaring his nostrils as he breathed in the cold air. A few moments passed before he began to step forward, the frosted ground crackling under his boot. As he got closer, he suddenly swung his sword and leaped forward. Their blades clashed, clinging and bouncing off. The two of them stepped back, walking around in a circle. The king attacked again, sweeping his blade. Erik avoided and attacked back, prompting his foe to parry. Their blades clashed a few times before the king was forced to stumble back out of breath. ("You are not using the edge of your blade!!") He angrily accused.

("I would cut your weapon in half if I did.")

("Do not toy with me! Fight! With honor!") The king demanded, thrusting his blade forth in a charge against Erik.

Erik moved slowly in comparison to the king, easily avoiding his attack by stepping to the side in avoidance, then balling a fist and striking him in the cheek. The king stumbled and swung blindly. Their blades clashed again, but this time, the king's weapon was cut in half.

He felt a pain in his thigh as his leg bent, and he was forced to kneel. He could see his opponent's cloak, flowing at the corner of his eye as they made their way behind his back, a flash of their ebony blade before the world began to rotate and everything was upside down.

His head hit the mud as the voice of the son cried out in terror. ("Father!!")

Gasps a horror escaped the lips of many.

The prince ran to his father's body, grabbing hold of his head as tears befell his face. He was on the verge of crying out, but he held back.

A pair of ebony sabatons appeared before him, bringing with it a callous tone of voice that shared no sympathy. ("I will be leaving one of my priestesses and two knights here to stay by your side. They will establish a church here in order to teach,. They are well educated by me personally. Consider their word my own. From now on, your title will be Duke of Audder. Do well, or else your father's death will have been in vain.")

Without another word or exchange of, he left, returning back to camp.

"The city is taken! Prepare to return to the encampment. We will be heading straight home, to Innah'vadah."

Weeks would soon come to pass, and the winter season would only get colder.

It was during the evening on a cold day that Kalia was giving birth. Her grunts of pain could be heard from throughout the castle, as she was delivering from the den. Her entire family was there to support her, father, mother, brothers, and many sisters. Marasia and Astra were also there to assist in the birth.

Riding home through the cold and snow, the Fallenic Knights were returning on horseback and were now passing through Ferin. While his men rode slowly, so as to not overwork their mounts, Erik rode ahead. He crossed over the flat lands, through the constructed valley, and straight home.

Kalia would soon give birth to a single child, carried in the arms of her eldest sister. The child would be a boy, a son, and a real crier. Kalia was exhausted, sweat-drenched, and on the verge of passing out, yet she reached for her child, taking him into her arms as her sister carefully handed him off to her. The look on her face was that of a mother.

Erik wouldn't arrive home until sometime after evening, coming in through the door of his castle to an empty den. A light shone from the next room, the kitchen.

From around the corner, one of Kalia's sisters poked her head out at the noise of the door opening.

"Oh, the lord is back. Welcome home, my lord."

"Where is Kalia?" He asked her.

"She is resting in the library."

Erik left to find Kalia resting in a chair in the library, a book in one hand, and her newborn child in her arm.

Seeing him standing at the door, Kalia seemed surprised for a moment, but then she smiled warmly. "You should take your armor off inside, you will leave dirt everywhere." She told him.

Erik approached her, his metal boots pounding against the wood with each step. He looked down at his child in her arms, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping soundly.

"When was he born?" He asked.

"I haven't seen you in months, Erik, and that is the first thing you say to me." Erik stayed silent. She glanced up at him. "...Over a week ago. He has not a name yet, as we were waiting for you to give him one. Have you given it any thought?"

Erik didn't respond right away. He pondered the thought, eventually coming to an answer. "Henry."

"Henry..." She repeated as she caressed his chubby cheek.

"The war is over, Kalia. For the time being, at least, I will focus on development. Bringing in new laborers in order to build. With the new horses, we will establish trade routes, bettering our food supplies. With the new land, comes more mines, and more men to indoctrinate into the temple."

The ruffling of cloth. The setting aside of the book she held on the table next to her. Kalia stood up, carefully holding with both her arms, little Henry. She handed him off to Erik.

"He has your eyes." She said. "You just can't see them because he's sleeping."

Erik held his child in his arms, looking down at his calmly sleeping face. He felt something move his heart, the love of a father.

"Henry."