Shadow of the Abyss

Within the bailey of the Cathedral of Light, clammers of laughter fluttered through the open air free of the Hellish Rain that had plagued Forwin for the last eight months. Moonlight dripped over the Cathedral of Light, which shone a deep gold under its aimless rays, reflecting hundreds of carriages entering through the crystal lake moat onto the bailey.

Lords and ladies, merchants and scholars aplenty stepped down one after the other, enjoying the glow they'd nearly forgotten. The radiance had been stunning and more than welcoming.

"Goodness," Lady Erri professed, peering down at the lake. "How is it that despite eight months of that grotesque rain, the church's water is so clear? I can even see my reflection."

The noble guests all laughed. "They are the Church of the Sepith!" They'd say moving on. All except Lady Erri.

The others hadn't placed much thought into the matter, but it bothered her. These past eight months, the only source of water that was usable was the water given by the church. The rest were all tainted.

Amongst the commoners, stillborns had skyrocketed due to the black rain being the only source of drinking water. Deformities happened in droves, and sudden deaths were plentiful. All because of the rain. The only ones safe were those… who attended the congregation.

Erri herself had been forced to drink the black water for fear she'd die. Two months later, she was coughing up blood with an intense fever. 'Did the church have a method to purify the tainted water?' She wondered.

"Is that you, Erri?" Her uncle's voice call, humming across the lake's surface, warm and comforting.

"Grandpa!" Erri professed, spinning to meet the eyes that had seen countless decades. She grinned. "How's Grandmother? Is she with you?"

"That wench?!" Lord Verrell laughed and looked around as if to search for his wife. And to his relief, she wasn't around. "She's tough. Resilient like a donkey."

"I'm going to tell her what you said," Erri said with a mischievous grin.

Lord Verrell gave a booming laugh, pulling the girl into his chest. He held her firmly, smiling. "I'm glad you made it. Forwin is probably the safest place you can be. I heard you got stuck in Dorga."

"Terrible place, I tell you. The demons got in and…" Erri shuddered, remembering the screams and blood that turned her bones to water. "I'm just glad The Sword of the King arrived in time." She smiled then. "oh, and we came with an Oathkeeper."

Verrell tried not to make a face, but his lips betrayed him. "Those bastards that take the Oath of Justice." he groaned. "What would they want in Forwin?"

A gust of wind billowed over Erri's slender figure, treading her hair. Erri lifted her hands to block winds from disturbing her hair.

"Come inside." Verrell gestured. Erri hooked her arms through her grandfather's arm and followed after him. Through the bailey, they entered through the side chapel and traveled up the staircase into one of the towers, emerging into a large spire that overlooked all of Forwin that glowed a low hum of silver beneath the four moons.

The city looked breathtaking from on high. It didn't have much light, but the four moons had illuminated the shadows below, casting silhouettes far and wide. Forwin looked like a city of shadows from on high.

"Lord Commander!" The crisp voice of Walter Verrell called. "And do I spy little Erri! My! How've you grown?"

"Uncle Walt." Erri grinned beneath the old smile that seemed as cold as when she first saw it.

"Brother," Verrell joyed, clenching the iron palm of his elder brother. "So you were with the caravan. Lord Edwin or Erri said nothing."

"That's because we never met," Walter replied half-heartily. "Forty thousand men are a lot of people. It's little wonder we missed each other."

"And I was only with the Caravan for maybe four months," Erri conveyed, staring out at the many lords and ladies talking and laughing as if war was not on the other side of those walls. It was unnerving, she admitted to herself, unsure how they could be so blasé. They had all looked so terrified before, praying to the Seraphim of Sepith.

Walter seemed to notice the slight tilting of her lips but didn't speak on it. Erri would be twenty soon. It was best she saw these nobles for what they were.

"Well? Where is he?"

"Who?" Lord Verrell asked, spying on familiar and unfamiliar faces.

"Lord Blackwood."

The name alone returned Verrell's eyes to his brother, as grey and wrinkled as he was. Walter was a tall man. Tall and gaunt, far more than his younger brother, he seemed almost sickly, though his sharp black eyes told a different tale.

"Oh… I heard of him," Lady Erri mused, covering her mouth with a charming gleam in her eyes. "They say he is one of Forwin's greatest swordsmen despite being only in the Second Circle and is capable of besting even Tier Three Demons. I tried to look for him, but I was in the far rear of the caravan."

Verrell was beside himself on the matter of Altair. If there had ever been a swordsmanship that had ever installed a sensation of dread and contempt in its execution, it was Altairs. It was a profane skill that made his heart quiver each time. He had much preferred Reina's, which seemed to embody the teachings of Sepith. It was a pure blade, one that radiated Order rather than Chaos.

Though he had to admit he liked the boy. He was strong, smart, generous, charming, and entertaining.

"I saw him earlier on the Wall when—" He stopped himself and grinned, pointing towards the young man in all black holding a maiden draped in red. A glass of red wine in their hands, they stood beneath the ephemeral glow of the moon, overlooking Forwin. "There he is," He said. And as if sensing an eye on him.

Two black eyes reflect the purest depths of darkness, seemingly unburdened by the seven sins or virtues, smoldering depth like the endless vale of nothingness. And yet even that deep nothingness seemed to charm the very Heavens and Hells as moonlight dripped along his pupils.

Erri felt her breath catch. She might have fallen had she not been holding onto Verrell. Her heart thundered beneath her chest as if hampered by an intangible force.

Seemingly invisible to the eyes of everyone around them, the Young Lord and his woman, whose beauty seemed to outshine the stars and skies, the winds and flames, seemed to lean over his arm. Eyes a stary gold, dancing with flecks of snow white, it had seemed she had flown down from the skies like an angel... an angel of war.

"Lord Commander," Altair greeted, shimmering a gaze over the two present. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Altair Blackwood. And this here is Reina of the Moon. Soon to be Blackwood," He lightly smiled, though it didn't quite meet his eyes. "Family, might I presume?"

"Quite so," Verrell said, introducing everyone with a proud grin.

Reina seemed to chuckle in her scarlet dress that highlighted her ample bosom, in how it curved along the edges of her breast like fire, down into a V stopping by the stomach. Whether it was her slender physique or aura, it all seemed to embody the aura of an untouched maiden. One blessed by the Sepith.

'It's unnerving… her beauty.' Erri thought, unsure how one such as her could exist. Only after a few minutes did she manage to force herself to look away to the stunning man at her side. She nibbled at her lips, unsure what she was feeling.

"I've heard an Oathkeeper is here." Lord Blackwood finally said. "Followers of the Noble Seraphim, Cael, correct?" He gestured one of the serving boys over, resting his half-empty glass of wine down while Erri and Verrell picked one up.

"That is correct," said Walter, gesturing he didn't wish for anything to drink. "Are you, by chance, interested?"

Mildly, Altair responded. "A little, just curious about their ability to sense truth."

"Does telling the truth bother you, Lord Blackwood?" Erri asked, unsure why she chose those words.

"Of course," Altair responded, to her surprise. " Everyone lies. So is the way of life. For one to see through our lies tends to be unnerving, wouldn't you agree?" He chuckled, noticing her flush, and turned to Walter.

Walter aimlessly nodded in agreement. "The Oath of Justice is quite a powerful vow, cupped with the others, and it's deadly. It's what makes the Sisters of Silence the most powerful of all the Seven Orders of Sepith. Or so I hear." His gaze surveyed the spire of lords and guests as if to look for something or someone. When he couldn't find what he sought, he turned his gaze back to Altair.

"The Keepers of the Oath are known for their desolation, seeking enlightenment upon mountains away from sin. Rarely do they ever venture down from their domain."

"And what might force them down a mountain?"

"Oath Breakers and demons," Said a bold voice from behind Walter. Hard like steel, it rang, drawing the attention of many. And as if they were only now noticing him, they stared at Altair and Reina with widened eyes, startled by the match made in heaven.

Fawning eyes landed, twisting into infatuation that seemed to burn with Envy and Lust.

Though dissatisfied with the stranger's words making everyone aware of his presence, Altair maintained his poised half smile.

"Oathkeeper Savvas, "Erri greeted with a curtsy.

Walter and Verrell both gave a half bow, but neither Reina nor Altair so much as moved.

Savvas was a stout man. Tall with a large greybeard that hid his neck, draped in a grey ceremonial robe.

"You do not bow," Savvas said, unable to feign ignorance. Those who bore the Oath of Justice were the arbiters of the Realm. So high upon their Moutain they sat, commanding the fate of the Realm. Respect was but simply customary for those who stood before an Oathkeeper.

Those who didn't bow were either demons or those without virtue.

Altair made a face, confused. "Why?"

Savvas could see the genuine confusion and nearly laughed at the absurdity. Verell hurriedly interceeded. " Lord Blackwood and Lady Reina are not familiar with the customs of the Realm."

"And yet he calls himself a lord."

"Did you bow when you saw me?" Altair calmly fired back. "Did you prostrate yourself before me like a worm?"

An air of silence permeated the distant night like a spell. None spoke, none blinked, much less moved. Like a statue, they stood with widened eyes.

Even Savvas seemed bewildered, losing the words on the tip of his tongue. Altair continued. " We all come from different backgrounds, different cultures. I don't enforce my will upon you, so I expect you don't do the same. I'm sure you don't expect an elf to greet you the same as a human."

The Oathkeeper frowned, wanting to retort, wanting to strike out, but forced the retort back down his throat. Instead, he forced a smile and said, "Very wise. And due tell who were might you be from?"

"A question asked by gods and man alike," Altair told him, recalling the throne of Brimstone, which his father sat upon, surrounded by that baleful fire that shone emerald black light. He smiled but did not continue, though a flicker of light shone sacrilege through his eyes.

The Oathkeeper gleamed no falsehood from the boy, and yet he felt a vale of darkness shrouding him, obscuring his mind's eye.

"Altair, are you causing trouble?" A mighty laugh following the chimes of music resounded. Cedric Vandel approached with a charming grin over his half-cloak that bore the insignia of the silver dragon. He greeted the Oathkeeper with a smile and a half-bow before scanning the shadow of a grin over the prince.

"Cedric, how unexpected," Altair started, though his expression did not gleam surprise. "I hope you are enjoying yourself." he inspected the well-groom captain, who had recently cut his stubbed beard into a clean shave. Cedric seemed almost handsome if we weren't standing next to Altair.

"Absolutely," said Cedric gleefully, lifting his glass to his lips. "Fat Mike has even informed me that Reese, alongside twenty of ours, was found."

"Oh yes, I nearly killed him on sight," Altair said airely, as if he was speaking of walking his dog, startling everyone. He studied the startled look on Cedric's face and continued. "Well, it's only a matter of time before I toss his remains for the demons to have their way with." he almost laughed. "I might just toss him in alive just to watch what they do to him."

"Lord Blackwood, what you speak of is murder." The Oathkeeper said gravely.

"Then murder it is," Altair admitted.

Cedric's expression darkened. "Boy… this is no place for games."

"And did you think it a game when he ordered Reina killed and raped?" He looked down at Cedric, a head shorter, and sneered. "How easy it is to judge when you have nothing to lose or gain…" He glanced at the Oathkeeper's stoic expression. "Tell me, Oathkeeper, who is right and who is wrong? The one who orders a murder or the one who kills before they can be killed?"

A few eyes swayed to the Oathkeeper, pondering the question themselves: Was murder ever acceptable?

"There cannot be justice if there is no Order. Two wrongs don't make a right. What you ask sounds more like revenge than it does justice." The Oathkeeper answered though he felt like he had stepped into some unnamed trap.

'Spoken like a true arbiter,' Altair thought and said. "Then what's to be done? If two wrongs don't make a right, then what is my recourse? Lay down and allow what's mine to be taken? Kneel and beg, hoping that my foe might forgive?"

The Oathkeeper couldn't answer. It wasn't his place to dictate a person's action but judge it. Sometimes, there simply was no good side.

"Murder is Murder."

The answer Savvas gave sent the spire into a whirlwind of whispers he could do nothing about. Nothing but stare at the Young Man before him. 'He was dangerous,' he thought, closing his aged eyes.

"Yes. Murder is indeed murder." Altair agreed, looking Cedric in the eye. "And for his sin, he'll pay for what he did. After all… he is the reason we are all here."

"Enough," Cedric said hard. "I won't let that happen."

"You brought it up," Altair informed him. "I'm merely stating what I'll do. Though, I do wonder how you'll stop me. It's not like you can protect Reese day in and day out. Especially when he was the cause of that horrid explosion."

"There is no proof of that."

"My eyes are the poof."

Angerly, Cedric tried to keep his voice low. "That's not enough," He said in a low grumble. 'And it's not for you to dictate such recourse. Military law—"

"In case you haven't realized it." Altair cut in, his voice like a winter breeze. "I don't give two shits. Reese Throvel is dead. Him and everyone he sides with."