The Traitor and the Noble

Pain still radiated from her left eye socket, blood freshly spilled over her calming rune, but it shimmered rapidly from time to time, refreshing her calm state so that she might humour the General of the Vassals of Faust.

“I truly loved being a Paladin. In service of ‘something greater’… like I was born for a purpose above myself…” Ciaphas glanced down towards his hands as he smiled, reminiscing. “I was a servant of Lady Praia, I liked to be alone, to be different… but I still felt that it was nice to be similar to my comrades.”

‘A servant of the imbalance, of the chaos of non-conformity. He was one who strove to be apart, unique and unpredictable, as ascribed to the Will of Lady Praia? If this was his choice of servitude, why did he join the Templar with Torres and the others? Wouldn’t he have better been a Crusader, like me…?’

“If you loved it so much, why did you betray your comrades and the Templar?”

“I fell.” Ciaphas smiled bitterly.

“Fell?”

“Into a hole. A very deep hole.”

“So, you were lost? Did they consider you a deserter?”

“No, I was lost. But I was also a deserter- of my own choice, not their assumption.”

“Why desert the Templar? Did that Lord of Horror promise you something?”

Ciaphas shook his head. “Becoming a Vassal… it was the only choice I had…”

‘Did he rely on Horror to survive wherever he got lost? But why not pray to Lady Praia, or any of the other Deities? Who would choose to accept the enemy before their own allies?’

“Aren’t there always multiple choices? You can’t place the guilt of your actions on the idea that it was the only path you could take, just that it was the only path you could bear to see.”

“Perhaps. But in that way, there are some things that no man is meant to see… some things that weigh so heavy on your mind that death becomes a pleasure in the face of it…” Ciaphas tapped the side of his head, smiling pitifully. “The Lord bears this weight of knowledge in my stead. In the end, it’s just another form of self-preservation that we all seek, just like Torres abandoning Laisson in the moment of his death.”

“You have no true sense of servitude?”

“Do you?”

Liel hesitated in her answer. Of course, she had tried at every turn to serve her Lord, although treating him in a harsh manner. But at the same time, the one person she had tried to serve most above all was herself. While she was sitting before Ciaphas under the veil of completing Torres’s mission in his place, what she truly sought was revenge for Estelle. And even then, it wasn’t revenge for the mistreatment of little Isabelle, nor was it how distraught Miss Elienoire had become, or even the deaths of all the townspeople.

At the heart of her feelings, it was mostly because the man sitting before her had disrupted her attempts to live in peace. Debts to others, servitude to Gods, her honour and dignity, and even her vows paled in comparison to this slight.

She was scared, and he had made her fear, and that was unacceptable.

“What did you learn of that disturbed your mental state?” Liel had a reason for asking this. Firstly, she just wanted to determine if what he was saying had any semblance of truth to it. Secondly, she thought that she might be able to use her rune to bear the brunt of knowledge. Still, she had a request. “Generalise it. I don’t want to fall to madness like you.”

Ciaphas hesitated for a moment, the words hanging on his lips. In a low whisper, he spoke. “…Lord Chimes is not who he says he is…”

A paralysing, icy feeling overtook Liel’s body. What could this have meant? Was he not a Deity? Was his name not really Chimes? What about his background? No one knew of the origin of the Gods, so how could something not known still yet be fabricated?

“Who is he really?”

“Do you want to have to become a Vassal as well?” Ciaphas chided, chuckling. “That is the burden I carry.”

Liel let out an audible ‘tsk’, falling back in her seat. For a moment, she had forgotten to herself, still lusting for knowledge as if she were still a Scholar in the Seminary. It felt good to feel that sense of longing once more, even if it was in such a dangerous scenario.

‘Lord Chimes’s true identity is something that humans can’t bear to know? Is he just messing with me, as a General of the False Lord?’

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Ciaphas shrugged. “You don’t. In truth, I hope you never have the chance to confirm it. That moment might spell your death, Ms. Astalette. Just be wary of any inconsistencies you might see in the landscape, holes that lead to the depths. These entrances might lead to a dire place, a place of terrible knowledge and danger, something I think Laisson has seen himself…”

“You know what happened to Laisson?”

Ciaphas reached beside him to a side table, procuring a bottle of liquor before pouring it into two crystalline glasses beside him. He handed one of these glasses to Liel, who accepted it graciously. The liquor was a thick amber colour, the scent of cedar and smoke wafting off of its glimmering surface.

“The Seminary still teaches of what wanders throughout the Labyrinth, don’t they?”

“Horror. But you knew that I knew that. Why bring it up?”

Ciaphas shook his head. “No, not just Horror…”

“What then? Beasts, surely. But haven’t they been taken over and turned into Irregularities? There’s definitely a distinction between them and the livestock the villagers of Lonlond raise, but still…”

“Not Irregularities, either. These creatures don’t source their Origin from the Lord…” Ciaphas leaned on his hand, his brows furrowing as if he was recalling something crucial. “Have you ever feared of what might lie under your bed at night, or the ghastly flashes in the corner of your eye? That there might be something lurking right outside your field of vision at all times?”

“Inane fears, all of them.”

“I can guarantee the opposite.”

“You’re just trying to rattle me, I won’t fall prey to it.”

“I don’t need to convince you, just warn you.” Ciaphas’s lips twitched slightly as he said this, reminiscing on past experiences. “If you can manage it, never step foot in the Basin below. It is a place meant for monsters, not men. This is the place that ruined me, that I suspect ruined Laisson. This is from whence monsters arise, torments of the night that even the hardened people of Lonlond fear…” Behind Ciaphas’s pupils, pitch-black Horror churned violently. It was almost in the way that Liel’s rune would shimmer, as if it was actively preserving him so that he might not lose himself.

‘There’s a place beneath the surface of Hel? Why have I never read about this? After Meister Coreas took us to a training expedition in Hel’s field of war, I buried myself in studies of this world so that I might never feel the same fear I felt once before… how could I have missed such a crucial detail like this? Or is this something that not even the Templar knows…?’

“What good is a war between Horror and Gods when such beasts lie in wait to tear apart what’s left of the victor?”

“These ‘beasts’ that I’ve never seen aren’t the ones killing our people. It’s Horror. It’s you.” Liel rebutted. She was still loathe to accept such a thing, such a terrifying thing.

“We just want escape.”

“Through killing?”

“Killing is the only way to create gateways to reach the other worlds when your whales would never carry them to safety. Allowing Horror onto a Siltte whale would corrupt it in an instant, and that would be a detriment to the oh-so-grand Templar. What of the people here who don’t follow the Lord? Should they be left to die as well?”

“Does the Templar even know that those people exist?”

Ciaphas furrowed his brows, scowling. “Why do you think I defected?”

“It wasn’t to preserve your mental state?”

Ciaphas shook his head. “That was why I accepted my Lord. It isn’t why I defected. I discovered that the higher-ups in the Templar knew of the existence of the people of Hel, and withheld this information from us. They thought it would be a detriment to the tempered hearts of Paladins who gave their lives thinking that this was just a world of villains and sinners…”

He paused for a moment, taking another sip of the liquor as if a sober mind couldn’t bear recollection.

“I suspect they must know the dangers of the underground Basin. They want to keep everyone here so that the creatures of the Deep might be sated. This is the true motive of your life, Ms. Astalette. You were never born to be a hero. You were born to be a brick in a large wall. You are not a soldier. You are a border guard.”

Liel’s gaze shook. She was still hesitant to take Ciaphas’s words to heart, but such a revelation was considerable, especially for a Scholar who loved learning. If this was truly the case, were the Paladins even saints? Was there any good to this war? And if Hel housed more monstrosity than Horror, what preparations could they make? Was it ethical, for her who took her own eye instead of one of the villagers of Lonlond, to leave them to fight such a terrifying force by themselves?

“I’ll take your words to heart, Sir. Of the underground Basin, and of the monsters in the dark, and especially of the Templar. But at the end of the day, I have debts to pay, of comrades, and especially of myself.”

“I understand, Ms. Astalette. Do what you must.” He tilted his head, downing the glass of liquor before setting it aside.

“My mother was said to love this life, a Paladin’s life. For a long time, I’ve wondered if that way of living was anything meant for me. For a daughter of my mother, so revered, I thought I might have to live to meet her expectations. But I never knew her, and so I never knew if she expected anything of me at all. Still, she gave her life so that I might live, dead during childbirth as I was left crying all alone. Quite a person, to sacrifice themselves and still yet abandon someone. If I had to choose between a mother I never knew and you…” She hesitated for a moment, before smiling warmly.

“…I think I would choose her, my apologies.”

She unsheathed her blade, standing up and thrusting its point towards Ciaphas’s throat. He didn’t move an inch, not reaching for his blade, nor raising his arms to block her strike. For the moment the blade moved through the air, Ciaphas simply stared at her, smiling pitifully.

For a second, she could swear she saw the reflection of her Lord in the glint of the blade, and Ciseus’s words repeated endlessly through her head.

“…The moment you dye your blade crimson with their blood, you will have become an Oathbreaker, and not even I will be able to save you from the consequences of that…”

She grimaced, her sword burying itself into his throat, sinking deep into his flesh and spilling crimson down his chest.

“At all costs…”

The rune on her face shimmered slightly, its silver hue dissipating into nothingness as if it had never been there at all. Now, simply a faded black, lifeless and still.

A breaker of vows, of promises and oaths.