The Warlord

Chapter 1: Calliope

My faithful warlord kneels at my feet, her head bowed low, her beautiful black hair dripping down her shoulders. The greatest warrior in all of Serestine, and she belongs to me. I inwardly smile as she finally raises her head and rises to her feet, and I bask in the stare of those brown, chocolate eyes.

"My queen, why have you called me?" As serious as always; not a hint of emotion on her stone-cold face. She stands straight and tall, ready and willing to do anything. A loyal little follower, and a dangerous one, but not to me. She would raise the armies of Hell for me. For her queen.

"We have been at war with Heaven for over a century, and the losses have been great." My voice curls with contempt at the end. More than a thousand queens have been struck down by Heaven's armies. My mother and sister were amongst the ones that met their fate on the battlefield. "The warriors of our kingdom will not admit it, but we are weakening. Our magic is slowly crumbling, either from the excessive use in this war, or because Amerath is drawing near." I see my warlord stiffen at the word, and though I share her concern, I shove any sign of fear away. Amerath, the great destruction that our first queen foretold eons ago. A battle of the stars, of death, and of magic; a battle that would be Serestine's last.

"Are we doomed to die in this war with Heaven then, my queen?" Her tone hides something sharp, jagged. She does not want to believe that she has been fighting for a false hope, for something pointless, but she cannot turn away from the truth. 

"We cannot change Amerath, but we can change the tide of this war. Heaven's armies draw their power from their gods and goddesses in the upper realm, and they are as strong as ever. A quick, decisive strike, one that will wipe away this war, and make it so that Amerath will not be this century-long battle." She goes still, every breath turning into a shallow, barely perceivable sound. She already knows what I will ask of her, and even though I try to conceal my emotions, my voice still trembles as I tell her, "I will send you to them as an ambassador of peace. Win their trust, my warlord. Lie through your teeth if you have to, but persuade them to drop their guard. And when they see you as nothing more than a harmless little child, when they think of you as a lamb in their butcher shop, slay them. Slay the Top Order, and raze their realm to the ground."

A battle wages on her face, a battle of her loyalty and her independence. I know she hates the gods, hates them with every bitter thought in her mind, but I cannot let her stay on the battlefield, fighting a doomed war. She knows it too, knows that my plan is the only way to have a fool's shot at driving out Heaven's forces. And even though rejection and repulsion is painted across her entire body, she kneels once again, dipping her head, letting her black hair drip over her shoulder.

"It shall be done, my queen."

She turns and walks away, striding across the red carpet, one gloved hand clenching the hilt of her sword. The intricate metal door closes behind her without a sound, and I call for a scribe. Much must be done if I am to have my warlord enter the upper realm.