The Council of the Rulers

Emerald green leaves cover bushes all around, alike so many butterflies slowly beating their wings in the breeze. The soothing perfumes of the flowers allow our lungs some respite, chasing away the remnants of decaying corpses, despair, and other miasma stacked in the outskirts’ air.

    The Holy Garden. It’s the well-found name of the neutral territory we have reached not long after crossing the frontier. Not belonging to either of the five kingdoms, it is at this place where, originally, the peace agreement has been signed by the rulers. But this is another tale, from centuries ago.

“It’s the first time I get to see that place.” Tyffeon comments, glancing around.

“Well, nobody is supposed to venture here apart from the rulers.”

    A few spherical lights float here and there. They seem to come from the earth, lazily ascending to the sky. The closer we get to the middle of the Holy Garden, the more of them float around. This is where the concentration of spirits is the most important, and among the rare ones where they are visible to the bare eye. Thus, it is where the Summoning of the Saintess can be performed.

    More precisely, under the giant gazebo we approach.

    Tiles of various colours, seemingly coated, compose the round roof. Or, at least, this is how someone would describe it without knowing the tiles are in reality Druks’ scales. Five white pillars support the ceiling, each one adorned with representations in bas-relief of the five major folks.

“This is really a wonderful place…” I muse aloud, gingerly brushing one of the spherical lights passing by.

    Although it’s my second time in this place since it’s where I’ve been summoned, one can hardly get used to such an enchanting setting. Do people born in this world really find it natural? What would they think of my world?

“The five kingdoms have contributed to the creation of this sanctuary, after all.” Tyffeon comments.

“I guess the Knockers built the gazebo.”

    Okay, this may be a cheated guess…

“Indeed. They built it using underwater stones gifted by the Dracs, scales gifted by the Druks. My folk grew the garden itself and…”

    He halts as we reach the first cobblestones underneath the gazebo.

“Tyffeon? Why do you stop?”

“I shouldn’t go further, that is not allowed.”

    Somehow, I can understand his logic. I play the role of the Saintess, so while it may be fine for me to be there, for a mere elven guard it may seem unfit. But…

“Dang, you’re really obtuse sometimes.”

    Reaching out, I catch hold of his hand, tugging him along with me under the gazebo.

“What are you doing?!”

“We’ve made it till there together!” I glance back at him. “It’s only normal we finish this together as well!”

    Above our heads, a translucent bell is nested at the highest point of the roof.

“If this is as I imagined it, then…”

    A quick glance around allows me to discern long ropes hanging from each pillar. Releasing Tyffeon’s wrist, I approach the Daoine Sidhe’s pillar.

“At the sound of the bell, the rulers will all gather here.”

“But won’t Erlkœnig be alerted as well?”

“There’s no such risk. Tainted as he is, its sound won’t be able to reach him.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Trust me.”

    And on these words, I ring the giant bell. A crystalline sound follows, together with an imperceptible undulation, echoing farther than any sound can.

    Wherever they are, they’ll hear it. Even if at the top of the highest mountains, even if far beneath the surface of the water, even if at the bottom of a cave.

***

    One by one, the rulers end up joining us under the gazebo, Tyffeon spending his time trimming a branch near a pillar until the arrival of the last ruler.

    The moment I tell them about the prophecy, silence follows.

“The emissaries of the Taint…” The Drac King muses.

“I guess the absence of the King of Daoine Sidhes is directly related to this prophecy?” The Druk King begins, his index pressed against his cheek. “If you’re here before us, just accompanied by one of his subjects, then what happened to him?”

    Briefly, I glance at Tyffeon, standing a few steps behind. He nods.

“Unfortunately, Erlkœnig has become a threat. When Sowilo’s festival came to an end, he tried to assassinate me.” I already see them frown and exchange glances. Only the Druk King keeps holding my gaze. “Though he failed to do so, he killed a young man who tried to save me. Since that moment, he lost any remnants of his sanity. The King of Daoine Sidhes is now an emissary of the Taint.”

“The hell does that mean?!” The Knocker chief exclaims. “Taint, you say? Erlkœnig part of those who will bring corruption to this world? Now you must be kidding.”

“I would love being able to say that I am, but I’m afraid this is the truth.” I reply.

“As much as I regret his rudeness,” The chief of Beastmen chimes in, “these are quite the displeasing words to hear.”

    The Knockers’ chief shoots her a dirty look.

“This said,” She continues, “as the Saintess, I guess you are able to hint at a way for us to defeat these threats?”

    My fingers stiffen against the fabric of my dress.

    Should I really tell them about the death of the Hero? I don’t want to bring them despair but… fake hopes instead? No. This isn’t right.

    People always await somebody to save them. If I let them do so, if this possibility remains alive, then it’s sure. There’ll be no escape.

“There was someone who could be able to save you all. A hero. But he happens to be the young man killed by Erlkœnig in Rathard.”

“Killed…” The Knocker chief grumbles. “And this was supposed to be our last hope?”

“Mmm… Thus we are doomed to see our kingdoms be ruined by these emissaries.” The Drac King notes with a grim look.

“In this case,” The Beastmen chief adds, “all we have to do is wait for them to show up. We’ll handle them by ourselves.”

“That much seems obvious to me.” The Druk King approves.

“Wait, you can’t do this!” I try to warn them. “They’re much stronger than you ca-”

“Than what do you suggest we do, honourable Saintess?” He cuts me off with a piercing gaze.

“I…”

    What should I say? I can’t tell them more than I already have without causing more harm than good.

“And what do we do about Erlkœnig?” The Knockers’ chief asks.

“Let him be.” The Druk King replies. “If he dares to attack us, then he’ll learn the price to pay for his betrayal.”

    This was no use. I should have known better. Even if they are now aware of the looming danger, they won’t be able to fight back… If, admittedly, they beat the emissaries of the Taint, this won’t prevent the appearance of the Rotten Lord. In the game, beating the emissaries is only a way for the Hero to weaken him a bit, to become strong enough to defeat the final boss.

    Even if the rulers joined their forces… No, they wouldn’t even agree to do so.

    I am lost in thoughts when I feel a hand against my shoulder.

“Huhh?”

    Glancing back, I notice Tyffeon standing by my side. He observes the rulers.

“You shouldn’t underestimate the danger they represent. Because of the Taint, our King has obtained a magic more powerful than ever. Not only that, but he holds all the Daoine Sidhes under his control. Even if you fought him all together, this wouldn’t be an easy fight.”

“Mind your language, lad.” The Druk’s King scolds. “We already tolerate your presence.”

“Do I have to understand that you’re concerned more by language than by the fate of your folks? The Saintess and I have barely escaped Tír-nan-cnocc, and without her wisdom I wouldn’t be here today.”

    Glaring at Tyffeon, the Druk’s King steps forward. Is that a murderous intent I feel… Unwilling to see Tyffeon die while he has just avoided that scenario, I step in between them, forcing the Druk King to stop before me.

“Are you sure about that, my poor fellow?” A voice chimes in. The Drac King.

    At his words, I widen my eyes. What does he mean…

    All the gazes focus on him.

“It’s been only a handful of days since the Saintess’ arrival in our world. And yet, not only does she return with a grim prophecy, but the King who received her in his Kingdom happens to be one of these emissaries?” He muses with a thoughtful gaze. “A strange coincidence, should I say.”

“Do you truly believe that a simple Saintess could have done such a thing? They’ve always been mere lucky charms. Though, indeed,” The fox ruler glances at me. “this one might be broken.”

“No, that’s not true!” I exclaim, frowning. “I am just trying to help you!”

    But I can already feel their distrustful, if not despising gazes. They’ve already made up their mind. How could I have not foreseen that? Of course, they need a scapegoat. Since the Saintess is not supposed to be alive by now, I did not consider this possibility. And yet, this is the reality of that world. Saintesses are just decorations. And if they can’t fulfil that role…

“Keep your help, that’s a curse!” The Knockers’ chief points an accusatory finger at me.

    What am I supposed to say… What can I even do…

    I feel my blood boil, my fists clench.

    None of them adds anything to this until the Druk King walks away, leaving the gazebo.

“Wait! Where are you going?” I turn towards him.

    He glances only briefly back at me, shooting me a sharp glance.

“I won’t lose more time in there. Broken Saintess or not, you’ve transmitted us your prophecy. You’re no hero, you won’t save us. Do whatever you wish, wander wherever you want. I’m done with you.”

    I don’t have words to respond this. He’s right, I’m not a hero. I’m not the Hero.

    As I am left speechless, the other rulers just imitate him, taking their leave.