74316
Politics and Dreams
"No...wait...wait...MERCY PLEASE!"
The Hunter's pistol spoke once and Father Zachariah, architect of the Union Festival Massacre, died instantly as Cyril Sutherland shot him in the face. Cyril loaded a new cartridge into his weapon before holstering it.
It was a sunny day, despite the grim occasion. Cyril adjusted his coat before facing the woman who had just witnessed the execution in front of her. The Black Dragon, Ancalagon, leaned her head on one of her claws as she sat down in front of a table sipping tea.
"That's it?" Ancalagon sounded disappointed. "I thought you were going to butcher him? Gouge out his eyes and bite out his tongue and things like that."
Cyril stared at her briefly. "You asked me to kill him, lady." He spoke calmly. "I did as you asked."
Ancalagon picked up the small slice of raw meat served on one of the platters in front of her and tossed it into her mouth. She smiled at Cyril who took his seat in front of her. When the summons came, Nial and his agents had warned him to keep on his toes. Ancalagon was worthy of respect sure but she was said to be capricious, unpredictable in her mannerisms.
"I did." Ancalagon smiled again. There was nothing nice in that smile. "And what a grim, grim personage you are Master Hunter." The Dragon gestured for a maid to pour out a cup of tea for Cyril. Several more, human and otherwise, waited patiently for their mistress' will. It would be obvious to say that all of them were the fairest individuals in the city.
"What have I been summoned for, milady?" Cyril asked softly.
"I wanted to meet the Moon Scented Hunter himself. If you can put a Lilim in a coma and freak everyone else out I suppose I expected someone more...bombastic. More...Evil." Ancalagon took a sip of her tea. How she did so without so much as crushing the tea cup into powder with her claws was anyone's guess. Cyril however could see the immense control she affected to do so. Every movement she made was done with discipline. Every move held reserved power. Cyril wished his focus was so absolute.
"And? What was your impression?" Cyril waited for the answer. He had honestly expected leaving again, and this time he was more than ready to leave corpses in his wake. Ancalagon no doubt was informed of his true nature by Nial Henderson. He did not blame the man for doing so, he had an obligation to the city's leading lady after all.
"A tired young thing." Ancalagon said. "One who has trouble accepting what he is...I would wonder why that is but then again everyone has their secret fears. Fears I do not have." The Dragon set down her tea cup after drinking. She motioned for the maids to clean up.
"I must admit however that I am rather excited about meeting a local hero." Ancalagon gave a deep chuckle as she saw Cyril's eyes narrow slightly. "Don't look at me like that, boy. I speak honestly which is apparently troubling for the refined bourgeoisie here."
The very same nobles she had all censured, such was the verbal lashing they all received many of them weren't very interested in hosting parties. Even Nial wasn't immune but he took that in stride. By her order taxes had been increased...for the noble classes. If this was a normal city the nobles would have revolted.
Considering Ancalagon's reputation and the fact that she was more than capable of destroying entire bloodlines outright, the nobles just bent over and took the taxes. He assumed that the fate of Ludendorf's heir, the man having been strung up for their family's involvement in the Union Festival affair, was more than enough for them to think about the consequences of crossing the Black Dragon. As far as anyone knew, no one disappointed the First Founder twice and lived to tell the tale.
Cyril's eyes drifted towards the castle's towers before he settled on looking Ancalagon in the eye. Dragons were prideful creatures, and greedy. Ancalagon considered the city her 'treasure hoard' so to speak and woe betide anyone who dared to harm it in any way.
No, he didn't get a glimpse of the Ludendorf heir impaled on one of the castle's spires.
"So...what now?" Cyril asked.
Ancalagon smiled humorlessly again. "Well, since dear Nial has you under his employ that means that his agents are now also my agents." The Dragon dismissed her maids. "Walk with me."
It was not a request. Cyril waited for the Dragon to stand first before following her, the entourage of maids and guards following. The Hunter idly wondered why such a creature needed a bodyguard but he guessed that his reputation was now beginning to spread. He wasn't about to take on a Dragon head on, but he guessed it was because they weren't expecting him to be hiding here in Sheffield.
"I take it that you know a little bit of the Oberon league?" Ancalagon questioned him without looking.
"I do my lady." Cyril's answer was neutral. "What do you need me to do?"
"Since the Order has been rather quiet these days, I have a task for you that needs to be completed in Erebus." Ancalagon said. "The newest addition to our wonderful federation. They seem to be having trouble with monster slavers."
Amber eyes locked onto deep crimson. "I suppose this won't be a problem for you?" She asked him.
"What do wish for me to do with the slavers?" Cyril's answer was a question in return. He was not about to play the Dragon's game...whatever it was.
"Ah, now that I have nothing to do with." Ancalagon raised a single claw. "You will be reporting to King Samael the Thirteenth. He was the one who requested an agent to come here, but I am sure that he will appreciate your talents for bloodshed."
"Very well." Cyril acquiesced. He wasn't about to complain, a job is a job.
"You sound so excited, boy." Ancalagon smirked. "I'm just giving you a chance to stretch out your wings. A predator is a predator. It does not need any attachments to something or someone."
"I don't hunt for selfish reasons." Cyril replied, his voice smoldering at the insinuation that he was just some mindless killer...Even if it was true, that knowledge stung a bit.
"Ah, but you do hunt." Ancalagon laughed, a growl full of menace that caused the entourage around her to look briefly in their direction. Cyril could see that none of them wanted to be in the way if a fight was about to erupt. "Because it is in your nature to do so. Don't be so grim, I won't bother trying to pry into your past but I can tell it involved a lot of bloodletting. Something you're quite good at no matter how much you deny it, boy."
The Black Dragon's amber eyes locked onto his. "You'll find that you will take solace in the purity of your purpose soon enough."
/
When the Hunter departed, Ancalagon made her way back to the Aerie, her personal quarters. Sure, the Order had to pay for their involvement in the massacre of the Union Festival but the war declaration was just something to test their mettle. Fighting two fronts was always a horrific idea for a nation at war. The Order was continent wide, but its members were distant or idealogicaly different to each other, but even the League would not dare fight it out on fair terms.
Hence why she considered the little madman that had been hiding in her city, the Moon Scented Hunter of legend.
Ancalagon hummed softly to herself as she looked over Sheffield. Her hoard. The zealots were already hunted down. Perhaps she could use that to scare the Order into agreeing to her terms. Already there was a delegation coming to her city, asking to meet with her to settle on whatever she wanted in order to avoid open warfare with the Oberon League.
The League may have a decent military but its real strength was its control over trading routes. The Order used these routes to resupply their crusades and in return, the Order kept away from League interests and the Church would not try to do anything untoward to the monsters that lived in neutral territory.
"Milady?"
Ancalagon heard her door open, revealing Nial Henderson. The lord gave a bow that Ancalagon waved away.
"Good to see the Lord of the Guard up and about." Ancalagon remarked. "Tell me, what do you think of my little scheme to have the Hunter on our side?"
Nial hesitated. "A dangerous game, milady." He said. "Considering that he put down the Fourth Born, and settled the Union massacre alongside my agents...would it be wise to antagonize him by telling him to serve?"
Ancalagon nodded. "Oh I know." She answered Nial's question. "I'm not willing to pay the price of killing that young Hunter in a one on one fight. I suppose there is one thing I can be grateful for in this debacle."
The Black Dragon smiled humorlessly. "I have the ear of a dangerous man when needed." She said. "...How is that little elf friend of his by the way?"
Nial exhaled. "She is being cared for by my agent, Sasha Fullmoon."
"Ah the former warrior nun of the Order of Knights in Lescatie." Ancalagon nodded. "Good, she is in good hands. Keep it that way will you? Dangling a piece of meat in front of a wolf does not work quite as well if the meat just disappears right?"
Nial looked uncomfortable but he nodded. Not just for Ancalagon but he truly believed that if Cyril Sutherland decides to turn against them, even Ancalagon would not survive that man's wrath.
You'll find that you will take solace in the purity of your purpose soon enough.
Somehow, those words stuck with Cyril for quite a while. He waited in the small orphanage of Sasha Fullmoon. On the way here, many folk had finally realized just who was in their midst and cleared a space away from him, as if he would just start cutting people down left and right. It certainly made his journey easier though, with less people in the way he made record time.
As Cyril sat and drank his tea he could feel the watchful gaze of the Salamander child waiting in the room with him. She still carried around a wooden sword, and her eyes were just as fearful as she was back in Lescatie.
He believed her name was Ember, if he recalled that correctly.
Cyril ignored her staring and continued sipping his tea while he waited for Sasha.
The door opened and the former hero of the Order stepped in. She saw Cyril sitting there and gestured for Ember to return to whatever she was doing. Sasha smiled at Cyril. "Sierra has settled in." She told him gently.
"...That's good." Cyril replied.
"I just want to know why you won't see her." Sasha said. "She...was a lot less restless with you around the other day."
"It is my fault that she ended up like that." Cyril's reply was low. "I don't think my presence is a good thing for her."
Sasha observed him. It was how she became quite the good healer after all. "Master Cyril, why Sierra is like this is not your fault. If anything it was the zealots who turned her into what she is right now. You brought whatever justice they deserved upon them." She said firmly. "Some may not like it, but you never really cared about that didn't you?"
Cyril looked at her. His reply was withering. "That's rich coming from you."
Sasha flinched briefly but it seemed that she was tougher than she used to be. But she smiled, rather sheepishly in his opinion. "Of course, I can be called a hypocrite for saying that...but regardless...See her, I know the Black Dragon has a job for you but say good-bye to Sierra at least. I will find a way to contact you about her condition."
The Hunter blinked. "You know there's a big chance I won't be able to return." He pointed out.
"And yet you will." Sasha said. "I cannot imagine what you are feeling right now but this woman has shown you kindness. Kindness that you owe it to yourself to repay. I will do what I can to help her, but you must do your part as well. Come back to her."
Cyril closed his eyes briefly but he nodded. "I'll go say my good-byes then. I'm headed to Erebus."
Sasha nodded. "Be careful." She told him.
/
"Ah!"
Cyril reacted quickly before Sierra could hurt herself, and caught her just as she nearly slipped out of bed. The Hunter grit his teeth as he saw the blankness in Sasha's eyes. Her expression was happy though, even if it tore his heart to shreds.
"Stay seated, Sierra." Cyril gently placed the High Elf's legs back on the bed. He held her hands as he looked directly into her eyes. "I...will be going for a while. Miss Sasha will be your caretaker, so I need you to behave."
The Hunter winced as he heard Sierra babble, but she squeezed his hand. Cyril blinked at first. Surely he imagined it? He sighed. Even if there was a chance that Sierra could properly heal, he was not so sure that Sierra would recover completely. But if she did, she would still hate him for his duplicity and for what he had allowed to happen to her.
That...would be a good thing, right? That meant Sierra had a chance of finding a better life for herself when she healed. She could find another person that would love her, that would care for her. A better man, or woman, than he would ever be. Cyril was a Hunter.
And that was all he would ever be.
Cyril said his good-byes, and swore to do better next time. The Hunter packed up whatever he could get, the Prancing Pony was long since empty but it was now a private haunt for him. Few dared to try and get him out of there. Sasha and the others were concerned but Nial had put a stop to it. The Hunter had honestly scared them all with how withdrawn he seemed.
None of them knew how much hatred smoldered in him, but whether it was for himself or for the waking world no one but the Hunter himself knew.
The Hunter opened the closet that held one of his mightiest weapons. The Holy Moonlight Sword waited patiently for its new master's hand. Cyril again felt the same trepidation for wielding it in battle but shut it down quickly. The arcane might it held was capable of destroying whatever magics the Monsters could use against him. It was also just as capable of slaying mortal foes as well. The sword whispered to him again.
Cyril strapped it to his back on its usual harness. He was quite heavily armed. The steel longsword remained on his hip, the Saw Cleaver at his waist. All in all, he was prepared for whatever came.
"Right then…" He said to himself. "To Erebus."
Erebus.
The Small Kingdom of the Old Country, as it was called, was the smallest member of the Oberon League. It is famous for the large lakes within its borders, one of which held the capitol in its center. Each King of Erebus took the name of an angel, but Cyril wondered whether it was the angel of the current God or the former one. But as he came to this green yet mysterious land, he found himself feeling overly cautious once more.
He had heard from a man back in one of the many villages that dotted the Small Kingdom that its people were descendants of very skilled raiders who passed down their tactics and their bloody history to their descendants. These Raiders who made a living fighting off not just the Order's steady rise to power but also the monsters who stalked all men. Today was a different story, as centuries of Order preaching and Monster interests had brought down the martial skill of the men and women who lived in the old country.
However, it seemed that the King was planning on changing that as he has declared a personal war against the marauders that entered his kingdom's borders.
Cyril looked around as the ferrymen made good speed towards the capitol of Erebus, Le Fey, the City on the Lake. He stood on the deck of the narrow boat the people of Erebus use to traverse the lakes as they moved from village to city and back again. Le Fey, as its status as the capitol demanded, was the major trade center in the area.
Men and monsters congregated here, but judging from the nervousness of the villages Cyril had passed through something else was up. The Hunter was well aware of the situation here, having heard a lot of rumors about Erebus' current Thirteenth King, Samael the Usurper.
The title was a statement of fact, said to be encouraged by the King himself. Apparently he had taken power because of his father's inaction to stifle both the interests of the Order of the Chief God and the Monster Lord's Extremist Factions.
A coup...Cyril wasn't the most politically savvy but he was sure that revolutions were unheard of in the Waking World. For someone, even a member of the royal family, to forcibly seize the throne was an unthinkable crime against the divine right of kings.
Samael must have had his reasons, his supporters say. Cyril had also heard that the kingdom was under assault from Dark Elf slavers, marauding bandits and internal strife which involved the nobility that supported Samael's father, the venerable former King Uriel the Twelfth and his wife, Arella.
Cyril leaned on the railing. Somehow, he knew he was going to get involved with the politicos anyhow. The Hunter's objectives were to root out the slavers who were causing trouble.
"Master Hunter."
Cyril was shaken out of his thoughts by the boat captain. "We're close to Le Fey, sir. Ten minutes." He said. The people of Erebus were a pale yet stocky folk, grim in demeanor. It was said that Erebus had once been cursed land, and only the sacrifice of its first king kept it from becoming a wasteland. The Hunter did feel a certain mystery about this place.
Cyril counted out the coin for his fare and let the ferrymen do their jobs.
He had work to do once he arrived anyway.
/
Le Fey. The city on the lake. The main roads were in the shape of a cross, each one pointing to cardinal directions. In the center was the keep known as the Spire, where the King resided. As Cyril left the ferry boat, heading down the gangplank and onto the dock he noted the pair waiting for him. One was the fiercest looking Kikimora he had ever seen. Her maid's uniform was augmented by scaled armor plating on her wrists and chest, alongside plated long boots that Cyril caught under her skirt. She carried a long hafted axe in her hand, and a large knife hung at her waist, almost like a sword. She had brown hair and smooth pale skin, a beautiful woman by all accounting save for the fearsome image she presented.
The other was a man in simple garments, yet it was clear that he was of a higher rank than the Kikimora who was likely his guard. Cyril felt the Kikimora's green eyes on him, watching him for any sudden movements. Behind them both was a carriage, the driver a pale old man who gave him a tip of his hat.
Cyril's eyes narrowed.
"Greetings, Master Hunter." The man said bowing his head. Cyril returned the motion. "I am Sebastian, Seneschal to His Royal Majesty Samael. This charming individual next to me is one of his Druzhina-"
"I am Cheramie." The Kikimora interrupted Sebastian. "And I can speak for myself. You are a guest of the King, so do not try anything foolish under my nose or we will have problems."
"Noted." Cyril replied. "I am Cyril Sutherland, Hunter in service to Lady Ancalagon of Sheffield. I was told I could be of assistance to His Majesty? I hear there's trouble in your borders."
"A small problem, Master Sutherland, I assure you. You won't be staying here for long." The seneschal smiled, resembling a slimy creature. Cyril saw Cheramie's eyes narrow in disgust and decided that he had stepped into something far bigger than he expected. The Hunter followed the seneschal and the scowling housecarl. Sebastian began describing Le Fey as they headed towards the central keep through the market town in the carriage.
Cyril sat in front, facing Cheramie and Sebastian. His arms were crossed as he put the seneschal's voice out of his mind momentarily.
"What and who exactly am I up against here?" Cyril asked, finally interrupting Sebastian.
"Pardon me?" Sebastian gasped out but Cheramie sighed in annoyance.
"As you have heard, Master Sutherland." Cheramie spoke. "There are many threats to His Majesty's reign that resulted from his ousting the former king and queen from the throne. Threats such as scheming nobility, marauders who took advantage of the ensuing chaos, and of course Dark Elf slavers who followed the marauders into our lands."
"A trifling matter to be sure." Sebastian said offhandedly.
"Trifling? We have lost an entire village's males to slavers in a single night." Cheramie looked incredulously furious. "The King has his reasons for inviting him here."
Cyril watched them argue, but his hunch was that Sebastian was profiting off of this somehow. He would have to keep an eye on the mustachioed seneschal while he was here. Already he could feel knives in his back.
From the tragedy in Sheffield to the volatile situation in Erebus. What a time to be alive…
Sheffield, Monster's Inn
"Mother! Natsume!"
Fina ran into her mother's arms, squeezing the elder vampire before rounding on the Kunoichi who shyly returned her embrace. "What are you doing here?"
Seras smiled grimly. "We're here on behalf of Greilia Little. I'm leading a delegation of healers to help the city of Sheffield. Other than that little task, I came up here as soon as I heard that you were here with the mission party. Have you been recalled?"
Fina's smile faded which caused Seras to worry. Natsume, knowing how much pressure Fina and Seras were under, gripped both of their hands. She knew who Fina was going after...The very same creature that gave her nightmares every time she closed her eyes to sleep.
"No. Lady Wilmarina is contacting Doctor Greilia and Lord Arthur on how to proceed." Fina answered. "He's not here though."
"So he left again…" Seras mused. "Fina...maybe it's time you stopped working for the extremists…" Her voice turned hesitant. "We won't find him in that kind of wilderness anyhow…"
"Until I find a way to help Natsume, I won't stop." Fina said firmly. "He's the key, I know it."
Seras didn't respond for a moment. "I want you both to be safe." She whispered. "I will not have your deaths on my conscience, Fina. Pursuing this man is suicide, and even if he could cure Natsume of her affliction would he even want to? It was the damned extremists who provoked him."
Fina saw how fragile her mother had become. "Mother-"
"Enough, child." Seras said, teary eyed. "I am so tired of worrying for the both of you. I took this job with that blue skinned cunt because I thought it would help you both grow. Instead I've gotten you both into such a deep hole, I don't know what to do anymore."
Fina stayed silent, watching as Seras put her face in her hands. "I can't bear watching you both die. I can't. Please, Fina. I know I can't stop you...but please, please, come back to me alive." Seras spoke brokenly.
The Dhampir held her mother's hand. To the right, Natsume did the same as well.
The Hunter's Dream…
"Hello!?"
Sierra Underwood was extremely confused as to where she was. Hyperventilating, scared and alone, the elf looked around left and right after having awoken in a field of white flowers beneath a great and ancient tree…
She found a footpath and began walking, following it through the thick fog. She eventually reached a fence where she saw the gate left ajar. Sierra walked further down the path until she saw the pale moon appearing in the sky. That was when the fog began to clear and she saw it.
A dusty, old and lonely workshop on a hill next to a graveyard. The door to the workshop was open.
"Hello there." A voice with a strange accent spoke out. "Are you lost? You are not a Hunter."
Sierra stared at the tall woman that emerged. Utterly pale, with gray hair and cool blue eyes the woman was dressed in delicate clothing. Sierra gasped as she saw her hands, mechanical in nature.
"Who-Who are you?" Sierra asked.
The woman bowed her head. She was considerably tall, towering head and shoulders above Sierra. "I am a Doll, the caretaker for this dream...and the Good Hunter. Did you know him?"
"I...I don't know." Sierra shook her head. "But...But I have a friend. He tried to protect us but Emil panicked, I panicked and...I remember being hurt…"
She felt a pounding in her head. "It all seems...like a dream…"
The Doll nodded in understanding. "Please, come inside and rest." She said to Sierra. "You are troubled."
Sierra followed, head pounding.
Where was she?
