Summer Garden

Azrael

He could see most of Ozandius from the balcony. The bustling port town below, the farms beyond the walls, and the lights of the distant villages stretching into the hills. These were his people, by birth and by oath.

"Sir Azrael." A soldier saluted behind him and the paladin turned slowly, his gaze lingering on his nearby shield.

"Speak."

The soldier snapped a fist to his chest, "King Iza requests your presence."

The paladin smiled grimly, "My father rarely merely requests my presence. He demands, whilst cussing and threatening. What was his mood?"

The soldier was caught off-guard and nervously stammered, "He... The king... Was quiet. M'lord."

Well, that was bad.

Azrael nodded tiredly and picked up a heavy chain necklace from nearby, hissing silently as it burned his neck. It was the talisman of his goddess and opened the doorway to keep him linked to her. It allowed him to feel her light, and to use it in the same way a mage might use magic, at the cost of his own life.

Every usage reduced his lifespan, bringing him closer to the day he would join the goddess in paradise, where he would be rewarded according to the actions he took for her in his lifetime. It was different than magic. If the goddess disagreed with the action he was attempting, then he would receive no power, being left as only a man. This was the weapon the goddess gave him as a means to destroy magic users, not as a tool to be used for the petty needs of state.

His father was not very understanding of that.

He walked the halls slowly, and calmly. Contemplating the situation. If his father was keeping himself in check, then there was only one obvious course of action he was about to take. It was one that Azrael was not certain he could assist with. He served the goddess, not Ozandius. If his father wished to wage a war, to bring the horrors of death, destitution, plague and tyranny to a new land, then his father could do it by his own might. The goddess was not interested in those concerns. She dealt with the soul, without concern for the mortal shell that might contain it.

He paused at the end of the red carpet leading to the golden throne, a throne built from casts of the skulls of the men his father had slain to gain the power he had tod
ay. Elfen, Faen, Ork, Goblin and even Human skulls were crammed together, arranging a surface that looked neither comfortable, nor practical. Nothing but a show of force and intimidation from the heir of Hero. Each skull had a story connected to it, a story that Azrael knew. A life taken. A life destroyed. He doubted his father even knew one of the lives he had taken. That wasn't the point. This wasn't a memorial. It was a threat. A threat the man had both the willingness and ability to carry out.

"Boy."

He turned, looking to the side of his room where his father was arranging a map, and he walked over slowly, "My king."

The man grunted acknowledgement, and tapped the map, "It is finally time. You will lead my army. You will also present yourself as the envoy, to demand surrender. We will wipe them from the face of this world."

Azrael ground his teeth angrily as he approached. What genocide was the king planning this time?

He looked at the map slowly, and then frowned, "You seem to have thought this through, my king."

"The Temple has aided in the planning of this attack." The king shrugged, "Our biggest problem will be the queen, and her witchery. You are the only one who might turn that advantage aside."

Azrael sighed. Calis. A city devoted to magic. Created by the mage Vastras, nearly five hundred years before. She still ruled there, albeit in the shadows. She was quiet, and her longevity wasn't without cost, a cost that she would be forced to pay, eventually.

Vastras wasn't an evil person, even if she had amassed magical power that few could begin to comprehend. She had been his mentor when he was a child, his lover when he came of age. She didn't age. She simply watched all around her die, or betray her and then she became the one who killed them.

Her purpose wasn't so far afield as his own. He had left her teachings behind when he joined the temple and began to serve the goddess in destroying magic, but Vastras sought to bring balance to the world.

She killed rogue mages as quickly and easily as she killed rising dictators. She had taught him of the evils of magic, so that he might know how to undo them by their own power. He certainly thought she was mistaken, that her path would lead to nothing but corruption, but he couldn't hate her for her actions...

He wasn't entirely certain the goddess would grant him the right to kill her. Vastras was a tool that helped maintain balance amongst all celestials. She wasn't something to be cast aside and destroyed as easily as his father seemed to wish.

"I am not certain I hold the advantage over my old teacher." Azrael replied politically.

King Iza sneered, "You have the goddess, paladin. What is one old hag? You have your orders. Carry them out."

The paladin bowed, "I will approach the goddess."

He turned and left, wondering if his father would attack him, or simply order another assassination attempt.