Chapter 13:

"The folly of man is not in dying, but in believing he has the right to choose who must return. For the hand that pulls one soul from the earth condemns countless others to follow." – Gravedigger

Re:Tyranny − Path of Steel


"Princess please! We are not allowed to be here!" The young maid called, reluctantly following her liege down a dark spiraling staircase.

"Relax, Leona. I am the princess, and if the church has the gall to interrupt my studies in Baluga, they better understand I go where I please."

"But Princess Diane, this place isn't the infirmary! It's the--"

The two women stopped at the bottom floor of the steps by the light of a dimly lit torch. A crooked sign hung on a putrid wooden door reading 'mortuary.'

"I know."

The princess pressed her way inside, pushing the door as it creaked open slowly, allowing a little bit of light to shine on the place.

"Leona, light please. And don't chant, we can't risk this usage being recorded." She spoke plainly, stepping inside as her maid relented, raising her finger as the room suddenly lit up with a few inky black flames, almost bleeding into the darkness.

"Aha, there she is."

The princess and her maid walked to the edge of the dreary morgue, where lay flat a headless corpse, its skin green and rotting, naked to the light. It was a young girl.

Leona instinctively put a hand to her nose, pinching it shut.

"Who...if I may, Princess, who is that and why are we here?"

"Relax, Leona. Help me find her head."

And so, the both of them scoured around, opening drawers, checking through boxes, trying to ignore the loud shrieking coming from under the table the corpse lay upon.

—Loud shrieking?!

The Princess rushed to the corpse, looking under the table and sliding from beneath it a metal drawer on wheels. A sickly severed head and talisman rested atop it.

The talisman shot up into the air, holding itself still and shrieking in the black light of the inky flames. Everything turned cold, as if the underworld itself was crawling into the mortuary. Both Leona and the princess were too shook to do anything.

The body on the table suddenly jerked up.

Leona looked to the head.

It looked back.


"AHHH

              HHHHHH

                                   HHHHH!!!!"

The seven figures were once more gathered around the table, each of them well hidden in the shadows, a red eye shining somewhere on their hoods or bodies, varying in location for each.

"We may have run into a hiccup." Camilla spoke carefully.

"You mean you failed," a low, soft-spoken beastman said.

"The talisman was delivered, and Isabel and her cohorts were caught. However, it seemed the pope noticed the talisman before the execution and separated the head without it in place," she continued, stepping into the middle, being lit by a singular downcast floating sphere.

"The talisman can't activate without it on the wearer upon death; else it won't be able to recognize which soul to revive."

"So with that failure in mind, we move onto plan B--" before Camilla could elude further, a messily haired ginger girl hopped into the light with excitement, wringing her right arm in circular motions.

"FINALLY! Sheesh, took us like wayyy too long to get to this point. One point to team violence, Zero points to team intelligence!" the ginger called out, smirking. She stood around chest height to Camilla.

Camilla sighed and pushed the ginger slightly back to her seat.
"Yes, yes, we all know how much you love punching stuff, Fiora."

The ginger giggled as she sat back down, with Camilla loudly clearing her throat.

"Fiora, Archibald, I'm sending the two of you to aid in the beastmen rebellion. Our spies report Saria took off with an impressive military cohort to quell it, and if we do not interfere our plan-- no. The world as we know it is in grave danger."

The ginger girl got up, with a large beastman standing right after.


Step. Step.
                      Step.

                                 Step. Step.

                                                       Step.

A full-plated knight stabbed his sword into a raggedly dressed beastman, causing him to cease squabbling. He looked around him; the small town was crumbling under the weight of flames. Even the wind bore the scent of burnt flesh and dried blood. Were he not wearing his helmet, the knight would have allowed himself to puke. He kept looking through the slits of the helmet, his breath hitting heavy against it as he turned around, bloody sword in hand.

His eyes widened as a young boy rushed towards him, wielding a crooked farm tool.
He stood still as the boy suddenly split down the middle, Saria appearing behind him.

"What are you hesitating for, soldier?! This is war, and these are beasts! Gather your wits and keep going. We don't rest until the whole village is rounded up and accounted for!" she commanded over the flames, pushing her way past him.

The knight rushed to the side, leaning over a still-standing building, throwing his helmet to the side and bawling his insides out.

Wet drops appeared on the ground underneath him, as tears streaked his cheeks, sliding down his chiseled chin.

"J-just what have I done?"

He raised his blade, staring at his tired blue eyes reflected back at him.

His hand shivered as he convulsed and threw the sword away, having it clang about for a few paces.

"What are we even doing here? T-this madness isn't war . . ."

He shoved his hands to his face, letting out a whimper that soon dragged out into a scream.

—Oh mother, how right you were, how wrong was I . . .

justChloe
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