The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 7: Conquest

There were rapid flashes. Each of them, horrifying. Each of them, she bore witness.

The only thing each sight shared was suffering. What she saw were sights of clashes and war. Cries and shouts. The clanging of steel against steel, weapon against weapon. And blood. Far too much blood.

The last sight she saw was the sudden vision of a man and a white horse.

Arnhild burst up from her bed, letting out a shriek of horror and cry for help. She tightly gripped her white bedsheets as she swallowed her saliva, struggling to calm her nerves and steady her breathing.

She stared at her room. Nothing had changed. The chairs and tables and bookshelves remained perfectly still. Nothing had fallen or broken.

Even so, the pain deep in her soul felt nothing but real.

She stood up, her bare feet on the cold, marble floor as she walked over to the large mirror off to the side of the room.

"Madam Arnhild?" a voice called.

She turned to the door.

A maid stood in the doorway. She held a glass of water as she approached Arnhild. "Are you alright?" she asked. "I brought you water, just in case," she said, handing her the glass.

"Ah, thank you," Anrhild responded, wiping her tears with her thumb before she took the cup. She drank the entire cup, gulping down the water, entire ounces in seconds. "Thank you," she repeated, setting down the glass on a wooden table beside her.

"But, Madam, are you sure you're alright?"

Arnhild stared at herself in her mirror. Another tear dripped from her glassy eyes. She appeared to be young, no more than her mid-twenties for human age. But she was Asgardian. Her life was longer, her aging was slower. She was some 80 years old, with much of her life left.

Arnhild was a beautiful woman, with soft features, and linear hair. Even so, her face was blank and expressionless, her golden eyes, vacant.

"Madam?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm alright. I was simply parched. Thank you," she mumbled, turning to her maid. Her eyes glanced over back to her mirror.

"Wait, what day is it?" she asked, still fixated on her pale face.

"The tenth," she responded. "You have an appointment with the Viceroy today."

"Ah," she muttered. "I'll- I'll get ready for that. But you- But you should take the day off. Get some rest."

"Madam Arnhild, are you sure? If you-"

"No, please. Get some rest. I can take care of myself, you know," she said with a smile.

Aesir Calendar: 10th Day of Einmanudr, 3089

Midgard Gregorian Calendar: April 7th, 2022

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Arnhild arrived at the region's capitol building. It was built with white marble bricks, reaching five floors. Tall, ornate columns surrounded the cement walkway that led to the entrance. And at the center of the building's roof sat a golden spire.

She had always been amused by it. She thought it was nothing more than a person's attempt to reach the sky. A mortal's attempt to reach the heavens. It was precisely this that had sparked many, many conversations with her father, and mother, and brother.