Chapter 8

It was a rather calm soothing morning when Annesha and her entourage arrived at the valley north of the northern pass. Waking up this morning in particular was an event in and of itself. It began the night prior when Annesha drank herself stupid. The consequences of which carried over to the morning when the crew were met with a commander who could hardly keep her feet beneath herself.

Various methods of sobering her up notwithstanding, it wasn't until Rollan reluctantly slapped her across the face did she finally come to only after having instinctively thrown him over her shoulder, dislocating his elbow entirely. Rather apologetic, Annesha was fortunate Rollan held no ill against her as his elbow was quickly set back into place with the princess and crew ready to head out.

Arriving, they seemed to be the last party to arrive for the council had already erected stands of stone raised from the earthen to sit upon, spectating from a high cliff overlooking a lush, rather featureless grassy valley. Among them were lesser lords of the surrounding areas, and while their judgment may not have been a factor, perhaps it was still in good conscience they were among the first to see the results of this duel of Lordship.

Spotting Demion as he rose from his seat and stepped down to meet Annesha, she was quick to ask as soon as he was within ear shot, "You've spoken with Dalvoin, yes."

He nodded, answering, "I certainly have, my Princess."

As though it should've been obvious, Annesha pleaded with Demion, saying, "Tell me he's mad? And if not, please have the decency to convince me I am."

"Annesha," he spoke with a rather pleading tone. "You know I can't take sides in this manner. My purpose was to oversee your development as you grew and reintegrate you into Carthol once the time came, never to choose sides and pick favorites."

"I know, I know," she muttered. It was as if she said it more so to remind herself that it indeed was the case than to assure Demion on the matter. "But what he proposes it's… it's," she began before Dalvion cut her off with a wave of his hand. She then shook her head. "I understand. No mentor should have to choose like this but..."

"Annesha!" he coldly snapped. His calm, collective and often uplifting demeanor gone without a trace in that instant. He didn't feel warm, and neither welcoming like the days prior and for that moment, he truly felt like a stranger. Demion saw that distinct light in Annesha's face fade. A simple thing that pained his heart. He sighed, knowing how jarring it might've been for the princess, but he knew the position he was required to take, and raising his hand to the valley, he simply informed, "your duel awaits."

With a nod, Annesha turned, yet before she stepped away, she gazed upon Demion one final time and said, "thanks, Demion. For everything you've provided these past few days. It's been a true pleasure."

As the princess approached her crew, ready to descend into the valley, Rollan's eye suddenly drifted north further down the cliff face. He was quick to notice a particular gang of men off to that not so distant north, who projected a presence and power quite beyond themselves collectively. It was in the way they stood, flexed, grinned and taunted the Dresden crew, as well as Annesha, with their ennerous boasts, as though they were superior in every single way. They even had the gall to give Annesha a collective, and very pointed, thumbs down as though such a simple, discouraging gesture could even so much as phase Annesha's steadfast resolve.

"Damned, Dorron…" Rollen muttered, leading Annesha to trace his gaze and take notice herself.

"Don't mind them commander!" Taldon insisted. "If they boo you, we'll cheer back!"

"And if they cheer for Prince Demion, we'll just cheer even louder!" Garld boomed!

"Aye, believe it Annesha!" Rollan chanted, as they all raised their fists into the air with a mighty, 'aye,' to boot.

With the crew's reassurance, Annesha's face was quick to gain that brief lost light and genuine smile that filled her lips. "Dammit," she scolded with a grin. "You all never cease to lift my spirits."

Silence within the valley, not even a roll of the winds dared stir such tranquility. The time for discourse and discussion was past. Dalvion stood firm, and Annesha would be unmoved. A fight until one party concedes or death, nothing less would suffice. Words had no hold here, the only thing to dictate Carthol's fate would simply be action. Such tenuous silence was only broken by the release of a series of Xulls Annesha had weaved expertly in that instant as she laid one hand upon the earth.

Impressed, Dalvion watched as the earth below her feet was cracked and torn asunder before a large mass of land was elevated into the air high above the earth with Annesha attop it. With Annesha bearing the tremendous weight she weaved a single Xull a multitude of times before unleashing it upon Dalvion.

The earthen mass she stood upon cracked and tore, shooting hardened stone shards directly at her brother in a hail earthen devastation. He never faltered or shied away as his body became entwined with the finest ribbons of refined light magic coursing through his body, enabling him to reach inhuman speeds sufficient to weave his way through the hail before flinging himself up into the air and cling to Annesha's elevated earthen mass.

With one he hoisted himself up, flinging him into the air before landing just behind Annesha and unleashing a forelimb to bat at her head. Only, it was intercepted as she expertly maneuvered around and blocked it with a raise of her arm.

It was then, Annesha's suspicions were confirmed when a figure seemingly emerged from Dalvion's being. It was a woman, a spiritual specter that reached out, before striking the princess in the face with a well placed attack. Annesha hardly had a moment to react as Dalvion followed up and began unleashing a series of expert jabs and kicks.

That brief moment of surprise was all it took for Dalvion to gain the upper hand as he delivered his series of blows, striking Annesha's face and body in calculated and well placed attacks before launching himself forward, and kicking her clear off the suspended earthen mass. It took much of her concentration just to keep aloft and as she sailed through the air, Dalvion felt gravity take hold of him as he tumbled.

He leapt to the earth, letting the mass crash heavily in an earth shaking collision that kicked up dirt and dust. It cowled the battlefield in a haze that obscured his vision and while he could sense his sister near, he neither knew precisely which direction she occupied. He could only wait, and listen. Any action could jeopardize him, and inversely, inaction could spell defeat.

It was then the spirit woman emerged from his form only to turn on her heels and shove Dalvion aside just as a beast slaying chakram sliced through the air embedding itself within the earth just where he stood moments ago. The female spirit vanished having assisted him once more, as he listened yet again.

Yet it wasn't footsteps he heard, but a simple breath of anticipation. It was the breath taken when one intends to take action, lash out or deal a mortal blow. He'd long been taught to recognise this breath by his mentor, and he knew simply as The Breath of Life. He turned on his heels as he unleashed a crushing downward blow only to then connect his fist with the princesses stomach slamming her to earth.

She had lept at him with a flying drop kick and broken through the smog mere moments before his blow landed. A second later, and he would've been knocked off his feet and put into a compromising position. However, it was now Annesha's folly for ever thinking she could get the jump, quite literally, on Dalvion as she laid there utterly winded by the harsh blow received as she clutched her stomach and struggled to find her breath.

As she writhed and gasped, Dalvion muttered, "perhaps you deserve the truth Annesha. Carthol deserves no place in this world." Annesha took a brief moment to listen, but she could hardly believe the words Dalvion had just spoken. He continued, "For too long, we marched off to war. Not out of necessity or desperation, but because it's what we're best at. We shill out our forces, not to whoever deserves to be felled, but to who can offer us a fine deal. We don't conquer land, we extort it from those on the brink of collapse, and for what? To add another seaside territory for even an even stronger hold on trade and commerce? We infiltrate nations with agents of our own, cripple economies, stoke the flames of an uprising, topple the Regis with a legion of our own and install false rulers. We spin the wheels of conflict to ensure the cycle continues. 'Perpetuus bellum.' we chant in the old forgotten tongues. Never. Ending. War.

"Another territory, at the cost of thousands of innocent lives and we shamelessly sing, 'Heri est crastina sunt socii in hostium crastina inimicos facti sunt pulvis!' Yesterday's allies are tomorrow's enemies, tomorrow's enemies become dust. Dust without memory, without a legacy. We're demons in daylight, we're the bane of the world and the world is certainly waking up."

"You… would lead… Carthol to ruin?" Annesha gasped as managed herself to her knees still struggling to find breath. "The people who look up to… you? The people we fought for all these years? Just… like that?"

"I was blinded, Annesha," he insisted as he turned his back. "But now I see."

"You… are ignorant," she insisted. "We've… ended quarrels. Brought hundred year conflicts to an end. We've unified nations, broke down borders and consolidated power eliminating conflict!" Dalvion could sense Annesha, pulling herself to her feet. "Your words are only half truths. Yes, war is what we're good at. We're certainly good at ending them."

"Narrovinnia?"

"A cold unsightly blemish on Carthol's legacy, yes," she agreed. "One I fully intend to rectify, one I fully intend to mend when I'm Lordess. Yet elsewhere, within and beyond the mouth of Xanthian, what we truly offer this world is nothing less than priceless."

"And thus, we disagree. So stand, Annesha, and fight!"

Dalvion sensed that telltale breath of life once more, yet when he turned it was… more than he expected to say the least. Before him, wasn't just Princess Annesha lashing out with a single uppercut to his body for the entirety of her body was enveloped in that of a large standing powerful drake spirit, given form and tangibility by nothing less than the refined light magic running through the drake's soul with a large clutched drake-fist barreling through the dirt mere moments from colliding with Dalvion very mortal being.

It was the drake she very briefly mentioned during their dinner. The one she never expounded on. Was she hiding such information for just such an occasion when he would be caught so terribly off guard? No doubt Dalvion certainly couldn't go without commending her for this. That dinner was her simply prying for information to use against him while giving little in return to use against her.

Now he'd suffer the consequence of that, as the drakes sizely first barreled through the air aimed directly for his being. He was in no position to properly react, no method given to hope and avoid. He was entirely helpless, except for one little recourse. A buddy, to say. The female's spirit emerged from his form before bearing the brunt of the blow allowing Dalvion to persist through the attack as he was thrown across the valley before crashing through the dirt.

The attack was so harsh, it blew the armor off his upper body, and he certainly felt the numerous broken bones in his chest and midsection, but pain was nothing to succumb to just yet as he looked up to spy the drake had slept through the air with intent to land upon him feet first squashing him into oblivion.

He jumped forward into a roll just as the beast spirit landed with Annesha elevated within. The impact shattered the earth, kicking up rocks and stone as it bore the weight and sheer power of the drake's spirit.

A mere moment out of harm's way, Dalvion devised a plan and executed by weaving a series of Xulls. Though his hands were exceedingly deft, he needed just a moment before he'd be able to unleash it. The drake already was letting loose a powerful downward punch that would pulverise Dalvion into oblivion, yet, the woman's spirit was quick to reach out and with one firm blow, struck it's fist just out of the way letting it smash into the ground just beside Dalvion.

That was when he unleashed an elemental attack, the product of each woven Xull. The air formed within his palms into an exceedingly focused spiral before he extended his forearm. Only then did the focused blast of air shoot outward before billowing into a harsh condensed spiral of wind that blew the drake's spirit off its feet and away. Under any other normal circumstances, such an attack would've shattered mountains carving a fine path through even the toughest of stone. It was only thanks to the durability of souls that the drake's soul and aura surrounding Annesha stayed intact. If he had unleashed such an attack on the drake's physical form, it most certainly would've been razed from existence.

And while souls were certainly durable, they weren't invulnerable. Dalvion dashed forward with refined light magic driving his legs beyond human ability before he leapt forward, for the chest of the drake where Annesha was held, elevated and housed. His hand was woven with the strands of light magic, intensifying its durability, it's strength and potency and finger's pointed he unleashed an attack that shattered the light magic that gave the drake's spirit it's tangibility before plunging through its chest and smashing into Annesha.

The drake's spirit vanished from reality as the two crashed into the earth, Dalvion on top as he clung to the scruff of Annesha's armor with hand pointed still channeling the refined light magic that gives his hand it's lethality and potency. One strike and he could easily cleave through flesh and bone, one strike and he would be Lord of Carthol. Annesha's power was drained, for sustaining a summon so large feverishly sapped one's physical strength and spiritual fortitude. She had little reserve to draw on as she laid there, pinned by Dalvion.

And as she gasped, she gazed at him with a deathly glare and simply said, "you should kill me now, because I will never stop so long as I breath."

"And that Annesha, is why…" He raised his hand as though he were ready to strike and as Annesha accepted her death in that instant, Dalvion simply ended with, "you'll be Lordess of Carthol."

Annesha opened her eyes, to see the light magic enveloping his hand subside completely only to then suddenly ask, "what?"

Standing, Dalvion released Annesha before explaining, "heh, common dear sister. You really think I could stand sitting around all day on a boring old throne, wearing a boring old crown, talking to boring old people about boring old things and being such a bore every boring old day in and boring old day out. Just like my boring old father? No… I may have promised you the throne as a child, but certainly had to ensure you'd fight to the death to defend this nation Annesha and what it stood for. Even if it means tearing down your brother and slaying him here. And my dear little sister… you certainly pas-"

He was cut off when Annesha harshly tackled him to the floor and pinned him down. "You goddamn jerk! Damn you Dalvion!" She pummeled him with her fists, but not with intent to kill. She just wanted to hurt him. "Do You Have Any Idea How Terrified I Was!? I'll Kill You Dammit!"

As Dalvion rose his arms to guard from her attacks, he snickered and laughed as she continued on ruthlessly.

"Yeah, Get him!" Rollan shouted.

"Beat Him Into Submission!" Garld encouraged as both crews raged on from either end of the cliff's edge.

Of course, they were completely oblivious to the fact Annesha more or less was Lordess of Carthol. They just didn't have the keen hearing to actually hear what had transpired or the nature Dalvion's motives. They simply thought they were still battling to the death and that this unimpressive spectacle below was somehow a continuation of the prior soul summoned drake and earth rending attacks.

Giggling, Dalvion shouted, "I Concede! I Concede! Have Mercy Please!"

And upon hearing that, the crew of the Dregsen cheered louder than ever as the council bared witness and approved of the victor. Only then did Annesha's crew truly roar out victoriously before running down to congratulate and greet their soon to be Lordess of Carthol.

As Annesha pulled herself off Dalvion and helped him to his feet, the crew ran up as Rollan said, "I knew you had it in you princess! I never doubted you for a second!"

"Aye," another affirmed. "That prince didn't stand a chance."

Annesha could hardly accept the praise and glancing to Dalvion with a diffident glare, the prince simply nodded. "Aye," Annesha affirmed giving Dalvion a playful punch to his shoulder. "Next time don't turn your back on me. You are still ever so chronically cocky. You're just less vexing about it, so I suppose you have grown, if only a little."

Dalvion simply gave her a grin, yet it was one that seemed to say, 'let's not push it too far now…' which in her mind was fair.

"Well…" Rollan began as he turned his gaze north to the crew of the Ruggul. "This just leaves one more thing to settle."

"Aye," Dorron muttered as he cracked his knuckles. "It certainly does."

"Let's have it out now then."

"Aye," Dorron affirmed as he took a step forward. "Let's."

Yet before Rollan could go, Taginal rested a hand upon his shoulder and said, "now captain. We won't let you sully yourself without us."

"Nay," another agreed. "This the pride of the Dregsen brigade."

"As is it the pride of the Ruggul," Dorron asserted only for his men to cheer.

"Well?" Rollan asked, looking to Annesha the same as Dorron glanced to Dalvion.

And with a collective deep sigh, they both waved their hands and said, "have at it. But don't kill each other. Bear knuckles only."

Neither Annesha nor Dalvion remember much of what happened after that. One moment the crews were having a scuffle within the valley of the northern passage, the next they were having a grand old marry time at the tavern celebrating their bruises, black eyes, lost teeth and broken bones and noses. But that was just the spirit of a Carthinnian. Violence and boose and no true Carthinnian wished it to be any different. After several days of drinking, celebrating and finally sobering up, Annesha found herself at the edge of an ever increasing dock at her brother's side.

It was far larger than when Annesha had first landed only seemed to be increasing with more and more ships that pulled in and left south for the ports of Lorriken across the Xanthian sea.

"Dalvion..."

"Yes Annesha?"

"Who was that female spirit that kept aiding you?"

"An old friend who simply likes to ensure I'm keeping well. A better question would be where in oblivion did that drake spirit come from?"

"Well I erm… gave it my heart so to say..."

"Really?" he questioned. "What do you mean..."

"Dalvion, I wanted to talk real quick," she interjected, pausing to consider. "About our fight, about… what you said." Dalvion quieted himself as Annesha considered her emotions once more before finding the words to express them. "I was terrified, shaken to my core. Not because I was afraid I'd be defeated, not because I thought I'd lost my brother, but because I knew… for the most part… that you were right, Dalvion, about everything. Carthol's past, Carthol's legacy, what we honestly stood for and did…"

"It's fair to acknowledge our past for what it was, Annesha," he stepped in. "For all the things we did, the fires of war we spread and the nations we felled, just or with incentive to. To ignore it would be a far greater crime. To cast it aside as though it were some distant insignificant morsel of our past is nothing less than shamelessly cowardly. Take Carthol to heart Annesha, the good and the bad. Don't be shamed; learn from it, take pride in it, and guide Carthol to achieving the ideals you stand for, the legacy you wish to lead and for the place you wish it to take in this world. I faith in you Annesha, no less faith then the day I promised you the mantle of Lordess."

"Thank you Dalvion," she smiled. "It's a shame you aren't staying longer."

With a solemn nod he simply explained, "I have a promise to keep first and once it's fulfilled, I'll return, quicker then the wind can fill my sails."

"How do you intend to leave, especially with Narrovinnia's occupation of the Reatheanian Archipelago?"

"Well, I could pay off that lofty fee those Narrovinnian's levy, but… I quite like the idea of trodding through Loriken. Once we get to the ocean abroad, we'll... Hey!" Dalvion called to two of his men carrying a rather sizable box with what sounded like rather loosely secured cargo within. "Be rough with it."

They grinned before throwing down upon the deck and kicking it into the hold below. Annesha could've sworn she heard a voice or two come from that wooden box, and the presence of Demion as he approached Annesha and Dalvion certainly did little to stem that curiosity.

"What's in the box Demion?" Annesha questioned once he was in ear shot.

"Heh, I haven't even gotten to properly greet you today and already you're admonishing me."

"The box," she again stated.

"Hmm, a bit of ambition, a bit of drive… the will to go to any lengths and any means."

With a shake of her head, she simply muttered, "fine, don't tell me. I suppose you have a purpose for being here."

"That old tinkerer, Ronnach, has been awaiting you to witness the demonstration of the titanic. In fact, it's been dominating the Estoc Arena since this morning."

"Dammit," she scolded herself for letting such an important matter slip her mind. "Well, if it's still holding together by the time we get there, it may be time to strongly consider the benefit construction titanics may have upon Carthol. Dalvion!"

"Aye, Annesha," he answered seeming to snap to attention suddenly

Yet, before he could react, he was suddenly straddled by Annesha as she gave him a rather long and hefty hug. "I should've done this when I first saw you. I'm going to miss you. A lot..."

"Annesha," he whispered. "Such public displays of sisterly affection are quite unbecoming of a Lordess."

"Shut up," she simply murmured. "I don't give a horse's ass."

Wrapping his arms around her as well, Dalvion simply said, "I'll miss you too Annesha. Just know I will keep Carthol's best interest at heart, the same as I always have. Believe it."

"I do, Dalvion I do." And after a moment more, Annesha finally released him. "Now, I won't keep you any longer. Go Dalvion. Make this world a better place."

As he stepped upon the Ruggul, the catwalk was raised and he turned and said, "keep Carthol ever strong and pressing on. Aye!"

He shot his right arm out to the side before raising his fist triumphantly in the Carthinnian solute.

"Aye!" Annesha called back mirroring the gesture before the drum sounded, the ship departed, and the rowing commenced for the ports of Loriken.

And as she watched the Ruggul disappear beyond the horizon Demion rested a hand over her shoulder and said, "you're Lordess now Annesha. There's no denying that. You know what that means?"

"What?" she questioned looking up to the elder.

And with a sudden yank, he lurched her around before leading her back up the dock to the newly built gates and reinforced tunnels leading through that monolith of a wall bridging the twin peaks hundred of feet high into the air.

"It means you must oversee and observe the product of one of Carthol's most expensive investments. The titanic."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Let's hurry this up already."

They had arrived at a rather populated arena, it was by no means the most packed it could ever be or ever was, but still a sizable crowd nonetheless. As Annesha took her seat before spectating the show below.

True to Ronnach's and Demion's word, there indeed was the titanic acting, fighting and killing with startling efficiency. It was a simple metal skeleton with common armored plates thrown on top, including a helm. The event Annesha witnessed was somewhat of a chariot battle, with six..

"Who are these people dying?" Annesha asked Ronnach the very moment he entered into the private stands she took quarter in.

Shaking his head to consider for a moment, he answered, "common thieves, murderers, bandits. The usual reprehensible types."

"Ah," she murmured as she continued watching.

It had been six, but swift and effortless efficiency, the titanic had managed to three chariots before trampling one contender to death with the horses the titanic drove and skewing the next upon a spear. It then withdrew a bow before notching an arrow, aiming and felling yet another with just a simple shot. It wasn't just a killer, it was a rather ingenious killer. It didn't simply drive a chariot, it expertly placed it around the arena ensuring no contender could easily slay it's horses or wreck the chariot itself.

The three remaining tried and fought desperately, but over the course of the show during the next several minutes, they were each systematically hunted down, dispensed from their chariot and slain not long after. The soul of the titanic was said to be that of the prior champion of the arena and certainly lived up to that reputation. He was nothing more or less than the champion reforged and reborn in cold hard metal.

"Well…" Annesha concluded. "I suppose my father's investment wasn't foolish after all."

It was then Demion said, "you'll find much of what he did wasn't quite foolish."

Stepping forward, Ronnach questioned, "so, my princ… my Lordess. Your thoughts on the titanic?"

"It is quite… impressive. But we lack one particular resource to make it viable currently."

"What would that be my Lordess?"

"Souls. We lack battle conditioned, battle experienced souls. Not to mention, there will need to be a cultural shift in regards to Carthol's opinion and belief on the subject and practice of soul trapping. What do you think can be Demion?"

"Very much, Annesha," he insisted. "In dire times such as these, the people will take any measure necessary. If the practice of soul trapping will benefit Carthol, they'll have no qualms."

With a nod, Annesha again turned to Ronnach. "I think I'll ready the falcatlies to enable the production of further titanics. I'm assuming this is only the first iteration and that improvements are soon to come?"

"Yes, my Lordess."

"In the meantime, I'll scrounge together a team of fellow craftsmen, scientists, mystics and tinkerers to further the development of the matrix. It must be capable of learning, not simply rehearsing. Do you think you can manage being head of such an endeavor Ronnach."

Hesitant, Ronnach said, "I've said it before my Lordess, I work best alon-"

"Can you handle it?" she again pressed. "Or will I need a new head to lead the research and development forward?"

And with a nod, Ronnach answered, "I can do it."

"Excellent. I suppose we're done here then."

She moved to push herself from her seat, yet before she could get to her feet, Ronnach said, "my Lordess. There's still one final event for the Titanic to participate in."

"Another?" she questioned before taking her seat once more. "Very well."

As she gazed down at the arena with the felled contenders. She watched as the titanic disembarked the Chariot before letting the horses run off and away beyond the heavy iron gates. The titanic faced the center as he carried a rather large greatsword in both hands.

"Oh," Demion beamed in recognition as the center grates parted and the platform was lifted from below. "I hope you remembered that one fellow we discussed, Annesha. The very one wishing to become a knight after his mentor?"

"And who might they be again?" she questioned rather dismissively, as she focused on the display below.

A beast began from the center of the arena, as the platform below raised it into the light. Answering Annesha's question, Demion simply stated, "the dragon… Nerr."

And as the beast was raised to the light, and lift leveled with the arena floors, Annesha bared witness to an Eastern Carthinnian Wood Dragon, but not just any. He was small, with stunted wings, standing no taller than a common man. He was hiked up on his hind legs, as though to increase his size, yet his mere image wasn't the most interesting part about him.

It was the armor he wore, from the metal plates strapped over thick cloth upon his arms and legs, to cloak strapped over his chest and shoulders. Yet, the most striking feature of his attire was the single metal visor strapped over his snout. The dragon gazed up, it's keen eyes finding no trouble in singling out the Lordess of Carthol watching over it, and Annesha could tell it wasn't the gaze of a ravenous mindless feral beast of Lynthre. It was indeed an intelligent creature come to become a Page to become a Knight.

"Well then," she murmured to herself as she sat comfortably back in her seat. "The first step to knighthood always begins with a test of might."

With a wave of her hand, she allowed the fight to commence as the dragon faced his first true opponent on the path to becoming a knight: The efficient, the deadly, the murderous, the emotionless, the dispassionate, the fearsome, the skilled, the strong and the swift iron-hide construct known as...

the Titanic.