The Tale of Daemonica

Arnvin the Ripper

Daemonica and Skald walked silently hand in hand the embankment along Draa and stopped every now and then, gazing at the white walls of the lavish houses on the Royal Bank on the far side of the river, which occasionally shone through lush greenery covered with spring flowers of various shapes and colors. At times, the bard glared at her inquisitively. For reasons beyond his comprehension, he felt like he was seeing her for the first time today. He hadn't been able to figure out why for a while. Eventually, however, it finally dawned on him.

'But you're literally glowing!' The bard cried, an unmistakable smile on his face. The sadness, apprehension, and constant vigilance that was still inherent in her face each time they met, were gone. Only her serious eyes, whenever he looked deeper into them, revealed that they had seen things they never wanted to see. Daemonica looked surprised, but she could not fool him.

'My lady, pretending doesn't suit you at all.' The bard said, half jest and half reproach. Daemonica's cheeks were red, and for a moment she didn't know what to say.

'Many things have changed, Skald.' She finally smiled at him in her own unique way.

'You didn't mention anything in your letter except that fight on the ice. But the whole kingdom is already talking about that.' Skald wondered, pausing for a moment to get a better look at her. In addition to his genuine interest, his gaze reflected a growing curiosity.

'I thought you'd rather I told you in person...' She tried once more to tease the poet with her hesitation as they walked again at a relaxed pace along the embankment, surrounded by the relentless bustle of the city.

'In that case, try to start from the beginning.' The poet said impatiently. Daemonica took a deep breath, staring at the glittering surface of Draa.

'Red's gone, Skald...'

'I don't understand why you don't grow long hair. You probably have no idea about the benefits of such a long braid in combat. Well unless you let someone pull you with it.' Redviolet laughed as she finished her work.

'You answered yourself, Red.' She rose without looking in the mirror the redhead had set for her.

'The worst part is, that it works with men for some incomprehensible reason,' Redviolet grinned. Daemonica didn't respond to her teasing. She knew she'd soon get tired of it, as always.

'It's time...' Redviolet added forgivingly after a while.

'Don't embarrass me.' She slapped her back cheerfully before she walked out the door.

A little later, Daemonica was slowly climbing the stone steps of Keep. Her stomach was trembling with nervousness after all. She passed the first floor with the library she already knew so well. Then the second floor, where the Council met. She began to climb the third flight of wooden steps this time, rising into the tower, at the foot of which a wary guard cleared the way for her. These steps led to the flat roof of Keep, where she was invited to come tonight. At the end of the stairs, another guards waited, opening the door in front of her that led directly under the open evening sky. She took a firm step through. Immediately the door slammed shut behind her. She took a breath of fresh air under the starry sky. A spring breeze full of promises ruffled her hair, and her heart pounded with excitement in her chest. They were all there. Solemn Ludiandar, grim Thaedis, carefree Riihad, enigmatic Mehtar, and beautiful Ceneen standing as ever beside the noble Annais. Nervous Reknak stomped a short distance away. Before the members of the High Council was, at first sight, just an ordinary metal box, the contents of which did not need to be considered. Annais motioned her to come closer with a barely perceptible gesture. So Daemonica soon joined Reknak.

'Reknak, Dae. The reason for your presence is known to both of you.' Annais began her speech. 'The High Council has unanimously agreed on your nomination among its members. We are convinced that you already understand what is required of you and the responsibility attached to this membership. If you accept, your names will be recorded in the royal annals of Andala, and you and your deeds will be indelibly written in the history of this ancient fortress. Always keep that in mind.' Annais paused, her expression indicating that now was the time for them to speak.

'I accept.' Reknak said without hesitation in his typical military manner.

'I am honored and I accept.' Her answer, too, was simple and unadorned. Standing upright on the roof of Keep under the bright stars of the spring sky, Daemonica had no problem saying in front of everyone what she saw inside as a matter of course. But her gaze shifted momentarily as she took a breath to make her request.

'My name is Daemonica, and I demand that my name be recorded in full.' Her eyes were already back on Annais, to whom her request was directed.

'Both names will be in the records.' Annais replied briefly.

'Now for the second matter.' Roses’ leader continued smoothly, without undue delay. Their presence here was an honor in itself, not to be emphasized by unnecessary speeches.

'I have been coming to this place where the High Council has been meeting since its first establishment for many years. Today is the last time.' Annais spoke into the silence in her clear voice. The night was cold. Ice floes were still floating on the surface of the lake beneath the flickering Cedris, and even the hardy spring plants were reluctant to wake up this year.

'Ceneen and I are leaving Cedris. Our mutual affection has come under justified criticism.' There was clear disagreement on the faces of Luciandar and Riihad. Annais looked at them sternly.

'The disunity and loss of respect between us will always lead to the weakening of Cedris, the frontier and, as a result, of Raia itself. If we are not united, we will be weak, and the much-needed fighters on whom we depend will choose a different fortress, a different leadership.' Annais was right. The frontier has been weakening for a long time. To Daemonica could not escape the fact that their ranks had thinned noticeably against the previous year with the coming of spring, and only a small number of new warriors were joining. There were several reasons. Fewer and fewer people followed the path of adventurers or mercenaries. If anyone was longing for a well-paid "adventure," the simplest way was to join Arnvin's army either directly in the capital or in one of the strongholds inside Raia. Few wanted to stick their necks out in real battles today. The frontier was a complete wilderness in the minds of most of today’s Raia inhabitants, with none of them fully aware of the importance of what the border forts meant for their peace and security. Unfortunately, that seemed to apply to the king himself.

Long years of peace have made the people of Raia rely on the incursions of the savage people of the north and east as a distant thing of the past. Random raiders were regarded as mere bandits, and the importance of the border fortifications in the minds of the people was increasingly diminishing, as was the former splendor and glory of its defenders. That's why the story of how they defeated Vaah spread across the kingdom at great speed. And that's why, after many rejections, Roses managed to get an audience with the king himself.

'This is the last thing I want to say to you.' Annais spoke again, even more emphatically.'The audacity of wild men grows in direct proportion to their power. The reports we have confirm that at least some of the tribes have been able to agree and unite. That hasn't happened for a long time. The fall of Morghat's fortress was no exception. All too easily, Cedris may be one of the strongholds to follow if we do not act. Go to Andala. Convince the king to send help. It won't be easy. Arnvin has never been very willing to help, and Andala is in turmoil. Choose a leader who can convince Arnvin of the importance of our existence.' Shortly afterwards, without any further words, Annais and Ceneen left the roof of Keep, and a chill gripped Daemonica’s heart.

When she got home, there was a jug of hot wine and a warm dinner on the table. Redviolet was waiting for her. Just like they agreed before. But the smile on her face froze as she noticed several bags stacked against a bench under the window. Redviolet stared at her in silence with a serious expression on her face so unusual for her…

'So Redviolet left with them.' Skald remarked softly. 'I'm very sorry,' he said sympathetically after a moment.

'Yes.' Daemonica replied flatly. They walked silently towards a small park with a sparkling fountain in the center. Unexpectedly, an old woman with a basket full of bunches of brightly colored flowers got in the way and turned to Skald with a toothless smile.

'Flowers for the lady?'

'At the best time possible!' Skald exclaimed enthusiastically. Soon after, they were sitting on one of the stone benches in a quiet corner of the park, a bunch of fragrant flowers lying between them. They listened quietly to the pleasant sound of water bubbling in a nearby fountain.

'You know, your news is still amazing.' The poet said cheerfully after a moment. 'Congratulations, and if I'm not mistaken, your first name is no longer a secret. What a relief!' He exhaled, his hand resting dramatically on his chest. Daemonica laughed briefly at his mischievous allusion to her noble origins. 'Then who is your new leader?' Skald asked curiously.

'There really wasn't much to think about.' She shrugged. 'The decision was unanimous. Mehtar is our new leader.' Skald was now mulling over something. Daemonica watched the poet's hard contemplation with a slight smile.

'Wait!' It finally dawned on him. 'Didn't you say something about His Highness King Arnvin the Ripper?!'

'I did.'The smile on her face widened…

Shortly after passing surprisingly guarded gate to the Royal Bank, they were admitted after several more thorough searches and without weapons inside the palace. Through a gilded doorway, the Crown Hall was entered directly from a wide and unusually empty square. Daemonica walked through the long hall, its high ceiling held by monstrous stone columns lined with soldiers in royal bodyguard uniforms. Sunlight streamed into the hall in long rays through the high windows to her left, beyond which the surface of the Sea of Lost Kings glittered in the sun. The wall of the vast hall curved at the far end, forming an open space dominated by a massive throne on a raised pedestal to which several steps led. Arnvin sat sprawled on it. He was huge himself. His long, muscular legs in comfortable high-knit sandals were casually folded in front of him. His broad back leaning against the throne was covered by a long red cloak lined with fur. His right hand, adorned with wrought gold rings on his arm, rested on the armrest of the throne, supporting his chin with the palm of his hand. He stared to his right through one of the many from the ground to almost the beginning of the vaulted ceiling of the stretching windows, beyond which was the truly breathtaking sight of Middar looming on the cliff above the sea below. More than a few nobles and royal officials were present in the hall. They stopped a few meters in front of the throne and bowed. During the formalities, Arnwin was openly bored and tapped impatiently on the artfully carved armrest of the throne with his left hand.

But even Daemonica herself was not very aware of what was happening around her. Negotiations with the king were the unquestioned privilege of Roses' leader. Thus, like the rest of the High Council, she stood silently in line behind Mehtar. The calm look on her face certainly didn't match what was going on in her mind. In fact, she was swelling with pride. For it was only by her own doing and courage that she now stood before the very king to whom she had never ceased to be devoted. She felt that with her services in the ranks of Roses she had at least partially atone for her cowardice on the way to fulfill the task he had entrusted her with so long ago. She didn't think Arnvin was still searching for their unit. She had not claimed the remnants of her family's property, and therefore had not given the king cause to be interested in her in that regard either. The last, already insignificant family ties were definitively broken when, after her mother's death, she joined Arnvin's army as a common pawn without rank. This was unheard of for her dynasty, and the last remnants of her kin turned away from her entirely. Thinking back to the past, she even convinced herself that her fears of returning to Andala were ridiculous. The events of two years ago seemed insignificant to her now, and she stood there in utter amazement, unable to believe how far the coincidence had finally brought her.

She had seen King Arnvin only once from afar, when he arrived for a personal visit of the barracks. It was not long before she was sent on that fateful quest. Even then she had been impressed by his unusually tall, muscular build, and by the skill and ease with which he controlled his horse, that were in direct contrast to it. He radiated an irresistible inner strength. With all his looks, every move he made, he showed how powerful and proud a man he was. Truly royal. But she had never had a chance to look him in the face, and now she was mildly upset that Arnvin had not yet given them even a moment's attention. But it was at that instant that the king finally stopped looking into space, and his gaze turned to their group. Mehtar, after a few necessary smooth phrases, had moved on to their demands, and that made him pay attention.

Arnvin might have been less than forty years old. His true age was unknown and difficult to gauge. But he was clearly a man at his peak. Daemonica, like every woman and girl in the kingdom and beyond, knew he was handsome. And Arnvin made no secret of his love for women, nor of his reluctance to bind himself to one who would be his queen. Countless stories circulated throughout the Kingdom of Raia, both true and fictional, about his love adventures or unwanted offspring. Arnvin's lush auburn curls, which flowed in waves down to his muscular shoulders, were adorned only with a simple headband, more a practical tool to keep his hair out of his eyes in combat than a symbol of his majesty. Daemonica suddenly realized that his casualness was only apparent. An agile and cunning beast hid under a mask of his indifference. It was only now that she noticed the exquisitely decorated hilt of the sword protruding from behind the throne within reach of his right hand, upon which he rested his chin so relaxed. And his cloak was pulled back at his left side, exposing the long dagger at his waist. The king was every inch a warrior. Daemonica smiled unknowingly. The ice-blue eyes in Arnvin's sharp northern features betrayed his vigilance, and now they looked directly at her.

Daemonica flinched and involuntarily glanced behind her, trying to find anyone else who could be king's keen eyes looking at, knowing full well that no one was behind her. There was no doubt that he had just caught her not only staring at him without shame, but even literally devouring him with her gaze. She turned back quickly, trying to salvage what was left of her self-confidence. She felt the blood rise in her cheeks. But when she dared to look at the king again with burning shame in her face, he merely shifted on the throne, trying very bluntly to conceal his amusement. A hint of a smile crossed his grim face, and the sparks in his eyes gave him away.

This was not lost on others, including Mehtar, who got stuck in the middle of the sentence. When he understood the direction in which the king's attention was directed, there was anger on his face. Arnvin's gaze returned to Mehtar with undisguised reluctance.

'Your demands are almost reprehensible at a time when the capital is reeling from chaos.' He spoke in a deep, resonant voice that seemed to bounce off the pillars of the hall a few more times before disappearing entirely. 'You, being a wizard of the Xix, are to guard a magical artifact against abuse by other wizards, with unlimited access to it yourself, and I am to pay it?' Mehtar was already opening his mouth to oppose him, but the king only raised his hand briskly, ending the attempt before it began.

'Your language is complicated and full of empty phrases to hide the lack of argument. You're wasting my time.' Arnvin looked irritated. The chances of taking advantage of the unique opportunity to gain something from the king were now close to zero. Daemonica could not prevent bitter disappointment and deep disapproval from translating into her expression. It did not escape Arnvin's ever-present eyes.

'Speak!' He ordered her. There was a murmur in the hall, and even Luciandar next to her cleared his throat nervously.

'Our blood is shed in your name, Your Majesty.' She didn’t flinch from his cold gaze. Arnvin tried unsuccessfully to break her in an eye duel for a while.

'Finally a meaningful argument,' he said at last mockingly to Mehtar. Then he cast another brief, thoughtful glance at Daemonica, who reproached herself for her previous carelessness, which had attracted the king's dangerous attention.

'You have my permission to negotiate your demands with the royal trustees.' The end of the sentence, staring back at Mehtar, he growled. There was another startled murmur in the hall, but Arnvin paid no more attention to anyone. He rose to his full admirable height and casually left the hall with the light stride of the beast, followed a little later by bewildered officials.

'You are a personified well of inspiration!' Skald exclaimed when she paused. 'But opposing Arnvin is very dangerous.' Skald added more seriously.

'I really didn't have a choice.' Daemonica snapped a little angrily.

'Nonsense.' Skald didn’t give in. 'I have no doubt you enjoyed it. The look on your face betrayed you during your story.' Skald had a good time at her expense.

'But one thing is certain.' The bard smiled at her widely. 'You won't just get rid of me now. Only a fool would let escape the material you are.'

'Material?' Daemonica grinned. But the warm light in the poet's gray-green eyes overwhelmed her vanity and penetrated deep into her heart as he looked into her eyes with a slight smile on his face.

'A bard spoke through my mouth a moment ago, not a man. As a bard, I'd only be a fool to let you out of my sight. But as a man, I would be a fool without a claim to mercy.' The sun was setting slowly, and her face was ablaze with embarrassment.

'I have to go now.' She spoke truthfully with regret in her voice.

'You don't have another appointment, do you?' The poet asked her indignantly.

'Frankly, I do.' Daemonica sighed as she saw the hurt look on Skald's face. 'I’m sorry, I’d really rather still be here with you, but.…'

'But duty calls.' He grunted, but his lips curled in a hint of a smile, and Daemonica saw that he had forgiven her. When she reached for the flowers between them, he caught her hand with unexpected swiftness.

'Be careful, my lady. I find it hard to bear the mere thought that putting your life on the line is your job.' He spoke softly, his eyes fixed on hers.

'I appreciate your concern, but I don't think I'm in any danger this time.' Daemonica replied calmly, taken aback by his sincere confession.

Though she was about to discover that she had been somewhat wrong about that.