Barathûn

Grief conquered the party for two days before they were able to move on. Renji, Mariel, and Oliver took care of those hit the hardest by the news as best as they could, but how quickly they’d be back on the road would depend largely upon how quickly they would be back on their feet and battle-ready. By this time, news had since traveled to the villages even this far out. It was all that the villagers could speak of. Word indeed traveled fast on Velgrath. Now that everyone knew of the fall of Aldelthorne, it was only a matter of time before they started to meet with more fervent resistance as they made their way through the lands surrounding Barathûn.

Oliver decided to join them. He couldn’t return to Aldelthorne, though even if he could he swore that he would offer what assistance he could. In truth, it was what Renji wanted. Someone with a big shield to round out their party composition was precisely what he asked for, but he wished that it hadn’t come at such a price. Renji didn’t know Roland or Hutch well, but they did right by him. He didn’t grieve as hard as the others, but he knew he would miss them sorely if they one day returned to Aldelthorne. If they returned at all.

Renji didn’t know what the future had in store for him. If they succeeded, what would he do back in Aldelthorne? With Illyandaril being the only successor, she’d be made queen immediately, and he could see her asking him to become her advisor, but was that what was likely to happen? He played out the battle against Kaelthûr in his mind over and over. Renji had gotten stronger. Even his magic was truly starting to get pretty strong, but if neither Balam nor Hutch were able to take down The Dark Lord, then Renji could not see them winning without some sort of sacrifice, and if anyone was going to play the role of the sacrifice, it would be Renji himself.

He thought about transforming himself to somehow bind Kaelthûr while Illya dealt the finishing blow, or perhaps turn himself into the trap by consuming so much aether that when he finally met The Dark Lord he would just explode to destroy him entirely, sparing Illya the struggle entirely. Vengeance was in the air. Everyone wanted retribution for the pain they felt they were unjustly struck with. The sneak attack left them all feeling raw and angry, and Renji wanted to give them that retribution, even if it meant he would ultimately have no future.

He began practicing his transforms more often. He had gotten used to navigating the new forms he was given, and was even able to apply them in sparring with Oliver. He could now comfortably transform two separate parts of himself, but if he tried any further he could feel his mind fray. Tiamat’s warning rang out in his mind, but he felt too weak. He needed more power so that he could do what he needed to when the time came, come what may.

Oliver was nothing but praise for Renji’s efforts, but they hardly registered. He was frustrated, and couldn’t find satisfaction, even when he managed to trap Oliver in a sphere of water. Ordinarily, such things would have been cause for celebration, but the harsh reality of what awaited them snuffed out those small pleasures.

By morning, they were on the road. They considered going back to face The Dark Lord in Aldelthorne, but word was that he had already returned to Barathûn. There was no turning back now. They had to strike at the heart of Barathûn, and take down Kaelthûr before he could take the initiative again. The journey was a quiet one. A quiet resolve had fallen over the group, and before long they saw it; the black keep of Barathûn.

The castle itself appeared more utilitarian from the outside than Castle Aldelthorne. It was built with the intent of taking a siege rather than displaying power and opulence. Torches were lit, and guards marched along the walls. Security was tight, and the only way in appeared to be through the front gate. Surrounding the castle, a moat filled with pikes threatened to impale anyone who would try to make the gap, or perhaps would fall in during a possible siege. There was a mountain to the west behind the keep, but it was steep, jagged, and had no discernible path. Otherwise, the land surrounding Barathûn was flat. There was no terrain they could reasonably exploit at first glance to get in, and the more they searched the more that the front gate truly seemed like their only option. Yet even that presented its own problem. The gate was a drawbridge. If they wanted to enter with force, they would need to find some way to open it from within.

The party camped a few hours' journey away from Castle Barathûn, knowing they would need to stay far out of sight lest they risk being ambushed. As long as they kept the flame of their campfire low, no soldiers should be able to spot them, though they still needed to be careful of ambushes. Nobody spoke during dinner. The enemy was right before them, and they couldn’t think of a reliable plan of attack. They couldn’t try waiting out their opponent, they would have to be proactive, but there was little they could do outside of trying to bust open the front gate. Renji, with the wyvern’s form, could likely make the gap, and Illya, leaping at her full strength, could probably get atop the wall, but then the whole of Castle Barathûn would be upon them in moments. Whether or not they could handle the sheer numbers they’d be contesting, they still wouldn’t have nearly enough power remaining to deal with The Dark Lord himself.

The night went by restlessly. Nobody could think up a solid means of attack. They were stuck. Renji prayed to Tiamat for guidance, but alas, she could not answer him. He felt her presence, though, her hand on his shoulder. He knew he had her support, but she had to remain within the confines of her rules. That she couldn’t answer at all, however, confirmed his worst fear. The Dark Lord had a god or goddess on his side, or at the very least, he had the blessing of one, which was why Tiamat could not directly guide Renji now. At the very least, this was the assumption he was forced to work with. That meant, however, that there was another factor that they couldn’t possibly prepare for. Whatever shape that blessing took, what hidden power that Kaelthûr had, would all need to be answered immediately through adaptability, and of the group Renji was the most flexible.

It struck him then just how much trouble they were in. If they wanted to stand any chance at defeating Kaelthûr, Renji would need to find a way to defeat him, to find any weakness before he could allow Illya to try and strike him down. Powerful though she was, there were certainly answers to her legendary strength, especially when taking magic into account.

Illya had been improving by leaps and bounds in her martial prowess. Her worst habits were getting hammered out one at a time, her telegraphing, her relentless attacks without ever stepping back, never utilizing feints, Renji was finding it difficult to land any victories during their sparring anymore. She had gone from an unrefined but talented fighter to one who could mop the floor with him if she truly tried, she was even capable of conditioning him and adjusting to exploit his expectations—something that took Renji a long time to learn to do himself. 

Her control over her strength had also improved, though Renji couldn’t stop thinking about her bad habits. Balam was clearly a skilled swordsman, so he would have surely known about Illya’s bad habits. Perhaps he felt that he needed to praise Illya more rather than point out her flaws to keep her happy—in which case, it was little wonder how she had developed an ego so huge by the time they had first met. He was lucky it wasn’t big enough that she saw any opposition as unfair, or his job of “guiding” Illya would have surely become impossible.

Come morning, the party had accepted that the front gate was all they really had to work with. Oliver, Renji, Illyandaril, and Nemi would be the attackers. Mariel and Hestia might be able to fight, especially Mariel, but their experience wasn’t enough to want to bring into a castle siege. Illya and Renji would leap the wall, and lower the gates. From there, they would split into two teams; Illya and Renji would make their way to the throne room to face The Dark Lord, while Oliver and Nemi led the guards on a wild goose chase, leading them away from the others before making their escape. Nemi wished desperately to join the fight with them, but even she knew she had to focus on survival. If the guards collapsed upon them all, there was no hope of victory, and if Renji and Illya failed, at least Nemi could get out. It was practical, even though she hated it.

As they stared down the castle, they waited for dawn before they’d make their move. The guards, they figured, would be at their most sluggish, and it was hardest to see in the harsh light of dawn and dusk, masking their approach. There was nothing more that they could do now except wait, ensure that their equipment was ready, and that they made this count.

The final battle loomed ahead.