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Fallenism

Born to both nobility and royalty, a young boy grows up surrounded by maids and a luxurious manor, a shut in to the cruel, outside world. He was always a strange child, quiet and noticeably intelligent, acting unlike an ordinary child. Evil, some would say, as he always acted in secret. He grew healthily over the years, distant from society, a well graduated student with a bright future, until the outbreak of war upon his coming of age as a man at fifteen.

Dracomangie · Fantasía
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49 Chs

Ch.42

A fatigued and sickly mother coughed as held her child in her arms. The crowd was moving slowly, but steadily, with knights on all sides, guiding and watching them.

The people were confused, worried, and fearful, being in an unknown land by no choice of their own. The men, women, and children, were all in a dire state. Their lips were cracked and their tongues dried, their bodies anorexic, with pox and rashes covering their skin.

A frail and disease-ridden elf broke out of line and tried to run off, but a knight was quick to grab hold of him. The elf was skin and bones, barely able to put up a fight in his kicking and shouting in Drowvish. It only took the one knight to hold the elf down in full view of the crowd. A priestess then approached the elf, a young and beautiful Drow, whose comely face alone calmed the man. Gently, she whispered encouraging words to the elf, who was then allowed to get back in line, and he did so willingly.

The west part of the city was vacated, and the tens of thousands of Drow were funneled into it, but stil, there would not be enough shelter. Food and water were quick to be rationed, with every shop, home, and storage reserve being emptied to feed the starving and dehydrated people.

"My lord, our food reserves, I fear, will not be able to sustain all of these new mouths."

"Feed them whatever you can. They are starving and dehydrated." Erik turned his neck to the awaiting ships. "We set sail now!" He told the crew as he untied the anchor line and stepped onto the departing ship.

The ship would sail down the coast to the east, less than an hour's journey to Innah'vadah's docks.

With urgency, medicine, bandages, food, clean water, and clothing were packed neatly into crates, the wood scraping against the deck as the men pushed them into the cargo hold.

"Listen carefully. Go to the lumber yards and have them prepare wood and stone for housing." Erik told the messenger. "They are to be shipped to Ferin as soon as possible, along with as many abled men who can build homes. Tell them it is an emergency and to make haste. Go."

"Yes, my lord." The messenger hurried off down the dock to deliver his lord's message.

By the time they returned to Ferin with the goods, it would be near sunset.

While his men quickly and carefully unloaded the cargo, Erik made his way down the dock to his awaiting vassal, one of the elders of Ferin.

"My lord. There may be an issue arising at the moment."

"What is it?"

"There is an individual, a woman, who is seeking to rally the people and undermine your authority."

"Is that so? What is she doing, exactly?"

"...It... It has just begun. Perhaps it would be better if you saw for yourself."

The elder led him through the western half of the city, to a plaza where a crowd of the sickly Drow had gathered. A woman wearing a tattered dress and with a circlet, resting atop her messy hair, stood on the roof overhead the entrance of a building. She spoke out to the people as if preaching. ("We must not allow ourselves to be slaves any longer! Not to the Highelves, not to our new, would-be captors. We must push through, regain our strength, and overthrow these monsters!")

"What shall you have us do, my lord?" The elder asked, though Erik's response was far from a serious tone.

"She is quite good at speaking, isn't she?" His eyes remained on the speaking woman.

"Huh? ...I suppose so, my lord."

"What commoner do you know that speaks as well as she does?"

"Very few."

"Exactly. A young woman, wearing a fancy dress, though old and tattered, with a circlet on her head. What do you suspect?"

"Royalty."

"Yes."

The woman was in no better a state than the many of the people she was preaching to. Her body was anorexic, her skin dry and pale, and her eyes red from strain. Just standing up there, speaking with a raised voice, was draining the little strength that remained in her fragile body. Her breathing was heavy, and her footing wobbly, and as she backed away, she did so into the arms of Erik, who appeared out of nowhere.

She gasped. The crowd went silent.

He held her in his arms as to keep her from falling as he looked to the crowd and spoke to them in their own tongue.

("I, am Lord Fall. The land on which you stand, is holy land, my land. It is the Kingdom of Innah'vadah, where I rule by divine right. You have been brought here because your people have been exiled from your homeland, to be granted to me. You, are not slaves. There are no slaves in Innah'vadah. There are only the faithful. I am a merciful god and king. Do as you are told, and you will be given food, shelter, and medicine. For now, you have two choices. We require you to be washed and treated. Those of you willing to stay here and be citizens of Innah'vadah, will follow my priestesses to be bathed and bandaged. Treat them with respect, or lose a hand. Those of you who wish to leave and fend for themselves in the wilderness, will be taken anywhere on the outskirts of our borders, never to step foot in Innah'vadah again. The choice is yours.") He lowered his lips to the woman's ear, restraining her as gently as he could. ("As for you, I will tend to you personally.")

The Drows were given soap and taken to the bathing area to wash. Soon after, supplies were handed out and those sickly and wounded were given treatment by the priestesses, all of whom had a modicum amount of medical knowledge, but were more than capable of treating the people.

As this was going on, Erik would sit down at a table in the street with the woman he'd taken. A small ration of food and a glass of cool water was offered to her, though she merely stared at it.

("It is not poisoned.") Erik told her.

("Why would a man such as yourself, suddenly be offering me a meal if it were not poisoned? And how come you can speak Elvish. Especially your accent and tone, they are akin to a true Drow's.")

("Half my people were Drow, they are now Fallenists. While I require them to speak Common, this country's tongue, it is only courteous that I would learn theirs. Now then. My name is Erik. However, you will refer to me as my lord, as all of my people do.")

She scoffed dryly, before reaching for the glass of water and downing it in one go. She was parched, and the strength in her arms was so faint, that she had to grasp the glass with both hands in order to not drop it. She exhaled heavily once she finished the drink. ("I can't remember the last time I had such clean water. ...My name is Sarmin Thally'ah. Kadag Sarmin Thally'ah of Undra'myre. If I am to refer to you as my lord, then I ask you refer to me as your Kadag.")

"Kadag... Queen."

"Queen?"

("Kadag means queen in Common. You seem awfully young to be a queen.")

She leered coldly at his comment. ("My father, the king, died at sea. He was sick and starving, as we all were, but he was too old to survive the journey. Once he passed, the Highelves tossed his body overboard. ...You have yet to threaten me. Why have you done this? Offering me food and water.")

("Simple. This is a diplomatic discussion, though, I suppose that isn't entirely true. The way I see it, you are no longer royalty, you are merely another exile. Despite that, these people may yet hold an attachment to your family name. I wish to use that. I am offering you an opportunity. Convert to Fallenism and convince them to do the same. If you do, I promise to grant you a notable wish.")

("You believe I would betray my people?")

("Betray? There is no betrayal. This is for their own benefit. The less trouble they cause, the sooner I will be able to stabilize the economy, which because of them, has been disrupted. I am sure you can understand, just how many resources I have had to take from my people, just to feed and house them. All I need, is for them to convert. They will begin learning Common and our religious virtues and laws, and once they have, the men will be allowed to work for their places in society. Here, there is no currency. Food is distributed evenly among families, as long as a certain amount of work is confirmed.") She gave not a response as she stared at him, leered at him with a clear sense of doubt. He could see this clearly. ("You do not trust me.")

("Of course I do not. My people have only ever been victimized and spat on by those who offer us good graces, because they want nothing but to take advantage of us.")

("Don't give me that shit. You were simply weaker, and you were conquered.")

("What would you know? You are a man, do your own kind treat you as inferior?")

("You could have been made slaves, or killed outright, but you were not. You are where you are by your own actions and choices. This is just another point at which you can decide for yourself, the future of you and your people.")

("You will use me to sway my people, then you will cast me aside after you have brainwashed them. This is not a diplomatic discussion, this is a threat against me. What is your promise to me? It means nothing! There is no guarantee that you will uphold your end of the deal even if I were to do what you want!")

("Then what would you have me do?")

("Hah?") She scoffed. ("Offer me something you can not take back, so that I know you will keep your word. It is only given in such diplomatic discussions that you offer one of few things: land, livestock, wealth, marriage.")

("Are you a virgin?")

("What?!") She yelped with embarrassment.

("So you are. Very well. We will hold a ceremony in a month's time.") He stood up from his seat.

("What?")

("We will wed in the coming months with a ceremony. I will have a dress and a room prepared for you. In the meantime, I will assign a priestess to look after you. They will both be Drowvish, so you will be able to speak to them.")

("I have not agreed to wed!")

("It is your choice whether you accept, but if you feel any sense of responsibility to your people, you will.")

He left without another word, leaving her in a state of confusion.