The Warlord

Chapter 42: Morella

I sit at the head of the lavishly laid table, the flecks of golden paint on the plates reflecting the sun's light. This is the very top floor of the palace, where the glass dome has been pulled back so the blue sky can cloak us instead. Today, Ansel will make her return, and once the partying has taken to the streets, the special feast will commence. There are eight seats in all, with three on each side and one at the front and back. Zarul is noticeably absent, but I will not pry about it; he is probably away, doing Varlock's dirty work.

"Where is your daughter, Queen Morella?" Averith asks, just a hint of a sneer laced within her tone. She should be the embodiment of shiftiness instead of love.

"You probably have a better idea than I do. After all, she has stayed with you up until now," I respond cooly, making sure Averith knows I regard her as a human would regard an insect.

"We left before her. She said she had... preparations to make. We all assumed it meant that she wanted a word with you," Malelai butts in, always the mellow, sometimes deeply shallow one.

"Then you all were mistaken. I have not seen her even once since she returned from exile."

I see the gears of their minds turning, assessing if this is the perfect situation where they can assassinate me and be done with it. Perhaps after the feast they will push me off the indoor balcony of this top floor, make me disappear for a few days, and announce me dead from poisoning in the following week. They will find a scapegoat to blame it on; probably one of my silent but loyal servants, the type that spies on the Top Order. But they are not foolish; they know that they cannot wipe out my entire force, and that there will be questions to answer for later on.

The sound of the door opening turns a number of heads as Ansel walks in, her white and gold gown rippling as she makes her way to her seat. A shawl of white fur, made from the first beast she fought and slew as a child, is wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair is bundled up in a braided bun. Streaks of dark war paint cover her cheeks with ancient designs, swathing her eyes and sharpening her stare as she surveys the table.

"Princess Ansel," Kassiel dips his head in acknowledgement,"are you ready for your return?"

She returns the nod and stands underneath the open glass dome, looking into a sky as blue as her eyes. Her dress swirls around her as she rises into the air, and from outside, I can hear eruptions of gasps from the crowd. The Top Order leaves their seats as well and soar into the air, forming a semicircle around her as they link hands. I am left within the palace, content with examining my nails and leaning back in comfort.

"Lords and ladies, gods and angels alike, we are gathered here today to celebrate the return of the Fanged General!" The Top Order's individual voices blend into an eerie unison as they address the crowd. A storm of cheers and clapping bursts from around the palace, loud enough that the ground seems to shake beneath my feet. "She has proven herself worthy, and has earned her way back from exile! Rejoice, deities of Heaven! Princess Ansel has come home!"

A noise that sounds like a firework or a blast of flashy magic goes off somewhere, and then the thunder of a mass of footsteps overtakes the air. The nobles race through the streets and the angels take to the skies, spreading the word with gleaming trumpets and lyres. Out there, in the vast expanse of Heaven, lower level deities and spirits will hear of the news soon.

The Top Order and Ansel settle back into their seats, and save for the celebration outside, silence shrouds the feast. Even though the embellished plates are lavishly laden with fresh fruit and delicacies of all kind, everyone knows better than to take a bite. I can feel a war of wills and mental strength battling it out over the table; my ice-cold demeanor and aloofness facing off against the Top Order's combined conniving and slyness in a battlefield of doubt and vulnerability. Finally, Soranel raises her glass of goldvein, the fizzy, warm and sweet drink of the gods.

"Shall we have a toast?" 

I lift my own glass in response. "A toast to Princess Ansel. Here, here!"

A quick clink of glasses, and then it begins. Ansel's words flash through my mind as the cool surface touches my lips. Do not let a single drop reach your tongue, otherwise the poison will overtake you. I purse my lips together and tilt my head back, the goldvein slamming against my skin, stinging as the cursed Siraku meets my Heavenly body. From the corner of my eye, I see the Top Order sipping their drinks as well, and once all four of them have swallowed, I set my glass down.

The reaction is instantaneous; shrieks fly up from the Top Order as they claw at their throats, gagging and choking as the poison makes its way to their stomachs. Ansel and I step back, watching them slump over and convulse, gripping and yanking at anything they can find. Plates overturn, glass shatters, and the white tablecloth is stained with death as red blood starts to pour out of their mouths. 

"What did you do to us?" Malelai rasps, clutching her stomach in agony.

"Siraku poison, straight from the claws of a demon. You'll find it quite potent, even if you have traces of Hell in your blood," Ansel speaks up, and for a moment all four manage to look in shock, startled at this sudden revelation.

"You-You betrayed us!" Averith snarls, stumbling towards us in a half-drunken daze. She falls before she can even get past the table, thrashing on the floor as she tries to rise again.

"Treason!" Kassiel croaks as he stands on shaking legs, only to trip over his chair and claw on the ground.

"Please," I scoff,"you were all prepared to kill me the very moment you got a chance. I know you've been working for Varlock, and I intend to stop him."

Four pairs of beady eyes fix their glares on me, glints of hate swarming and swimming in them as the Top Order finally succumbs. They go limp, their limbs failing them as the poison wins the gruesome, long-fought battle. A sigh seems to fill the air, and a Hellish steam rises off of their bodies, shifting and swirling until finally dissipating into the blue sky. The red blood that came from their mouths starts to turn to black, gushing and pouring forth, deflating their bodies into rotting corpses.

Ansel pinches her nose shut at the scent, and I suddenly feel woozy and off-balance. "What is that smell?" It reeks of cursed and abominable things; things that should not exist in this world.

"They were turned into Lords," Ansel says sadly. "Their bodies will fade away into soot and ash because they are neither Gods nor Demons, but something of both."

Soon enough, the sagging, disgusting flesh starts to flake away into bits of black, and a harsh wind carries away the remains. A servant scampers forward from out of the shadows, bowing to both me and Ansel.

"The Top Order has been destroyed. All that remains is Zarul and Varlock. Do not let word of this escape the palace," I order, stepping away from the mess of a table as the servant bows once more and starts to clean up.

Ansel and I walk back down to the lowest floor of the palace in silence, a coldness taking over the atmosphere. When we reach the main entrance, she slits her gown and dons loose-fitting clothes perfect for travel. I watch somberly as she uses her magic to burn up the fabric, destroying all traces of her ever being there at the scene of the poisoning. She wraps herself up in a black cloak and unbinds her hair.

"Varlock will definitely sense their deaths. What will you tell him?" I ask.

"Only what happened. The Top Order was murdered right before my eyes and I fled the palace." She gestures for one of the hidden, spying servants to step forward. A vial lies in the servant's outstretched palms, and she takes it, tucking it into her cloak. "Just a bit of Siraku will make it seem like I was affected as well."

"Sooner or later he will find out about your treachery," I observe, following her as she prepares to leave the palace.

"And I will escape him. But for now, he wants me by his side. Calthius has refused his offer to join, so he must collect all the pawns he has." She throws on the hood, shrouding her face in darkness. "Goodbye, Mother. When we meet again, I will either fight for you or against you."

Ansel walks out of the white marble doors and vanishes, becoming nothing but a sliver of speed and wind as she races downwards towards the Lower Realm. After she takes her leave, I sit on one of the palace balconies, watching the beings of Heaven carry on with their celebrations, enjoying my small, miniscule taste of victory.