Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

Chapter 28: The Light Of Revolution

RAFEL RUSHED OUT THE THRONE ROOM after Giselle. Leaving a puzzled look on the faces of both Corazón and Aya, he muttered a bassy,

"I'll be back."

And disappeared into the throng of milling people by the hall's wide exit. All who had watched the proceedings were shocked at the outcome. Many tavern owners amongst the crowd smiled with yellowed beer dentition, happy for the fresh gossip that would bring an eager wave of patrons to their pubs tonight. One thing Eldoria as a realm flaunted more than its gold was its gossip.

A penchant for salacious hyperbolic stories. And while people talked, they also drank.

Cora's hand met air as she watched her Lord Grace's back vanish into the escaping boisterous crowd. In the mostly empty throne room behind, the plaintiff, Ian Noguri was nowhere to be found. For the humiliated General, tomorrow might very well be his last day alive.

Rafel caught up with Giselle on a long straight corridor with huge alabaster pillars. He rushed out across the stone statues fringing the arches and grabbed at her from behind.

The Queen hissed and turned. She was surprised. Rafel slammed in her into the nearest pillar. She was lifted several inches off the floor to meet with his smouldering eyes. His fire burned.

"What the fuck was that in there?" Rafel growled into her face.

Giselle's guard, two armored Gold Cloaks, were shocked at Rafel's stealth in falling upon them and moved to interfere with his manhandling of the Queen. But Giselle held up her hand.

"Nice to see you too, Rafel," she teased. She drew closer and inhaled against his neck. Rafel wasn't appeased.

"Giselle. . ." He stressed.

She lifted her head up. "What, Rafel? I—"

"What was that in there? You, naming me as your champion? I don't like surprises. I don't like drama. You know that."

Giselle's golden pupils moistened in apology. "I'm sorry. I am, really. But I wasn't going to fight in a Trial by combat myself. You wouldn't want me to, would you?"

When Rafel turned his head away, she touched his jaw softly to draw his eyes back to her. He was not her soldier. He was not her hero. She knew that. Rafel was a delicious brooding villain. Giselle liked him cold: she opted never to make the mistake of coaxing chivalry out of him again.

"I'm sorry," she apologized some more. It softened him. "—I could make it up to you."

She tried to pull him into one of the nearby rooms, a latched storeroom, but Rafel held back. He eased her off the pillar and his big warm body, dropping her to the stone floors.

"See you in the theatre tomorrow, Your Majesty." Rafel bowed and neatly turned on his heel, walking away.

"See ya!" Giselle called to his back. She tried to garner some final attention from him. He never turned in the corridor. Giselle sighed between her two Gold Cloaks.

"Shite." She had struck a nerve.

As Rafel rounded back to his lovely confidantés, the Throne room was hollowed out of all life, empty as a monk's temple carved into a mountain. Everyone was gone. Corazón and Aya waited for him by the steps below, next to the parked carriage.

Rafel hurried to them.

"Are you okay, Your Gra—" Cora started to say but Rafel picked her up and tossed her into the lush interior of the carriage.

Aya went in next. Both women were laughing as he bundled in after them. He was warm as a wolf. He tickled Cora, and a giggling Aya scooted out of his reach. Cora nestled into his heat, her cheeks red from all his tickles. She loved these little sneak peeks into Rafel's playful sides.

He was a man with a thousand shades. Figuring him out was part of the fun.

"Stop it, Your Grace. I–I'm gonna pee on myself." Cora was squirming in his lap.

"Pee away, love. Grrrhh..." He grabbed at Aya with a fake growl, pulling her in too. "What's for dinner tonight, huh, Corazón? Grrrhh–Grrrhh."

Rafel blew air bubbles into her bare stomach. Both women were laughing so hard they couldn't reply. The carriage soon started its clandestine journey back to Emberfall. Rafel kept the women in his arms, touching and playing with them; anything to distract from what was certain to happen tomorrow at dusk.

He would kill an innocent man. Why did it worry him so?

[? Battle Hymn of the Republic – Eugene Ormandy and The Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square.]

By evening the next day, the amphitheater hosting the Trial was filled to the brim an hour before the duel was set to begin. Word had spread from the night before like wildfire. Rafel could thank the many pubs in Eldoria for that. People eagerly engaged excited conversation as they claimed all levels of the rotund open air stadium.

It was a view all the way up to the purple heavens. With about an hour until complete nightfall, the setting was the best. The weather nice and windy. A summer feel and a wistful ambiance.

Rafel stood behind a shut door at his corner of the theatre. Corazón stood with him, ever so loyal. He stared, amused, at the bands going hard at their musical instruments to cheering folk. Everyone happy in their own fan circle. Once Rafel's name had been mentioned in the taverns' innards yesternight, it was like Hel all over again.

People had heard of the mystery warrior Earl, the one who was trainer of the kickboxing Flyweight champion, Vipera the Vixen Venom.

Being privy to his squire's stellar performance in the ring, the crowd of underground gamblers and overlords now furiously took to the bleachers, very ready for the promise of some action. Bets were being placed—in secret though, as Her Majesty was present on the uppermost rung in company of her train. Even though Giselle secretly bet too:

[5 000] Eldorian gold on Rafel.

A couple of men were near fighting across a particular level, as their argument about who'd win had escalated into full-on fist exchanges. Cackling women were their umpires.

Anyone would think it was a prime gladiator finale, and not a Trial.

"One would die. One would live. Whom shall it be, pray tell? The rider of the white horse, or the reaper on the gray serpent. Tell me if ye cipher it, uptownie," the bards sang ecclesiastically.

Cora held onto Rafel's hand behind the door.

"You pity him," she said matter-of-factly, speaking of the General all the way across the sands on the other end. Ian Noguri was probably getting his final hugs and kisses from family.

Rafel suddenly felt like the Grecian legend, Achilles. And Ian, his Hector.

In the end, there would be no victor and none vanquished.

Cora mirrored his thoughts exactly with her words. "I see you have on only a Common armor for the Trial. Give him a fighting chance and an honorable death. That much the man deserves, Your Grace. And in the end, don't let him suffer. Make it quick."

Rafel nodded, squeezing Cora's hand as the entrance horns blared.

"Thank you." He smiled wanly at her.

"15 Grand!" Cora said abruptly.

"What?" Rafel's hand paused at opening the door.

"I bet 15 Grand on you, Your Grace."

Rafel shook his head, smiling as he pushed open the wooden gate and stepped out into glorious evening sunlight and a roaring, chanting crowd. "Blood! Blood! Blood!" Their voices were the thunder in his veins. The fire in his bones. He picked up his intentional [Common] spear he purchased at [2 000] soul coins from the [Arcane Shop] and started a slow run across the sands.

Rafel didn't bother waiting for the opening gong to sound.

"Yeah! Get him!" The whole stadium vibrated with fresh energy.

[Ding! System Alert!]

[No weapons system or armour activated! Requesting immediate commands.]

But Rafel kept running.

"Nope. It is as it should be, System." He mused in his head.

Rafel was determined to give the crowd all the glory they wanted by seeking out the arena this evening, and also giving his opponent a worthy Nordic end. It was all about showmanship tonight. Rafel sought to put out such a dramatic display that would mask out the terror of bloodshed. Hence, his simple weapon and armor.

He picked up speed as he neared Ian Noguri, studded in a shiny brass chainmail complete with its helmet.

Rafel lifted his spear ten times slower, in a speed Ian could follow but wouldn't seem too obvious.

"RAAAAAARGH!" He yelled for effect, leaping a wide arc into the air and striking out aerially for Ian. All the while, he aimed for the man's shield.

[? Car Show – Das Sound Machine (Pitch Perfect 2 Performance).]

Still, Ian staggered with the force of Rafel's blow. The man was half his size for fucks' sake.

When Rafel was close enough to him that he was certain the crowd couldn't make out his moving lips, he edged near and said,

"Hit me as hard as you can. Wound me if you will. We only met once before privately, Ian Noguri, and in the brief hour of our meeting I learned you are a man of honor. Thus, in your death, General, I would see you made a Legend. The Elder Gods await you in the Hall of the Valiant, Legatus! For the glory of Rocasus!"

Ian lifted his small eyes to Rafel's infernal ones, and he smiled. Accepting his death with brave finality, he began swiping and slashing at Rafel with his sword, uttering deep words that resounded like struck metal into the hearts of everyone looking down upon the fight.

His following words were as a prophecy, beautiful and poetic. A hero's final moments.

"Behold my eyes, all you who look from above.

Behold my pride, dear heavens. Behold my message. Behold my song, ye listening ears. Behold my fight! Look upon this gangly form and see in it the true valor of man. A hero is not made by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart.

Behold in my eyes, the Light of Revolution. Once lit, an unquenchable fire it shall burn until the night is bright and blessed in it. FOR THE GLORY OF ROCASUS! FOR THE GLORY OF A FREE STATE! FOR THE LIGHT OF REVOLUTION!

HIYAAAH!!!"

Ian thrust his final jab and missed Rafel's neck by seconds. Rafel saw in it his resign and in an effort to make him look as good as possible, he parried the hit, lancing the sword with his spear and sending it flying across. The longsword struck the sand smoothly, landing on its blade and standing in the sands.

Rafel turned the spear in a series of crafty air strokes swiftly and struck out like lightning while Ian's eyes were engaged.

SROOOCC! A squishing sound was heard.

"Ooooh!!!" The crowd went back as a unanimous wave at the surprise death blow. All people everywhere went silent as Ian dropped to the arena on his knees.

Rafel's spear was sunken to the hilt in his chest. He had made sure to puncture the heart quick and hard.

Ian removed his helmet and with his last breath, the Rocasian Revolutionary drew Rafel close to him.

". . .keep the armies, you'll need them," he croaked.

And then, he fell flat on his face. Ian was dead before he ever hit the earth.

Blood flowed freely out his bleeding heart. The sands of the theatre sucked it in like the ocean absorbing light. Rafel offered the fallen General a moment of silence before pulling out his stuck spear.

[Ding! One Rank B Mortal Knight slain.] His system informed. Rafel was only half listening.

[Upgrades confirmed!]

[ARCANE RUNE: 1 890 002 souls.

RANK: Earl — MANSLAYER. Successful Ascension into Second Celestial Circle.

GIFTS: One full Legendary Wolf Pelt Armor, alias the Winter Demon.]

The General had killed in his entire life less than quarter the lives Rafel had taken in the single battle with Frostholm. How?

The Theatre was chanting his name, but Rafel's ears were mute. He kept replaying Ian's final words in his head. 'Keep the armies. You'll need them.' He found himself wondering if toward the end, the General had being right. Just like Hector. At least he'd made a hero out of the man.

He could see the Legend spinned for years to come: GENERAL IAN NOGURI: LEGATUS OF ROCASUS, FALLEN NOBLY IN BATTLE.

Up on the stands, Giselle Van Imperia was on her feet, clapping erratically, her golden eyes flitting like a beaver's. Rafel looked from her to the dead man on the sands. Then back again. Suddenly, he didn't trust the Queen anymore.