Chapter 5 - The Beginning (2)

Chapter 5: The Beginning (2)

Night has always been the time of peace, when most creatures rested before continuing their lives in the warm sunlight. Night was also a time for those too meek to act in the day, hiding in the endless shadows that birthed from the sun’s fading light. Such was the philosophy of the High Elves that ruled over Ankalen.

It was only fitting for them to be struck when it went against their philosophies. Only an hour earlier, a peaceful night sky oversaw Ankalen with stars glimmering in the distance. Only one hour separated each slave district and the capital of Ankalen. And only that hour separated the peaceful night sky and the world of flames that would befall their great capital.

Nevertheless, from atop the ruins of the wall that once protected the outskirts of the capital, a group of seven stood still, looking down at the burning capital with a gleam of pride in each of their eyes. With all but two of those seven holding an assortment of tools, a whip, a sword, a hammer, a shovel, and a pickaxe that glowed compared to the rest. Yet at the forefront was a familiar man, dressed in a now bloodied white and blue outfit with spiky, bleached white hair fluttering in the wind.

Ralogolar’s eyes retained their usual icy glare as he watched the capital burn, buildings of stone and wood collapsing in on themselves, and manors of pristine white marble slowly blackening to ash from the flames within. However, it wasn’t the buildings that held his attention, but rather the handful of blackened Elven corpses that littered the upturned roads.

As the faint screams of the burning Elves died out against the crackling howls of the raging flames, Ralogolar turned away from the capital to face the remaining six humans atop the wall. Although Rolozuthen was the only person there whom Ralogolar was familiar with, each of the remaining five displayed respect in their gaze.

“Ralozenther, cast a voice projection spell on me,” Ralogolar said, turning his gaze to the grassy plains outside the capital’s wall. “Rolozuthen, once I give the signal, blow a hole in that wall.”

“Gotcha!” Rolozuthen replied enthusiastically, stepping away from the rest of the group as the mana in the atmosphere began to gather around her.

“One voice projection spell coming up,” Ralozenther said calmly as a bright green magic circle appeared around his outstretched arm. “Oh Spirits of Wind and Earth, heed my call! Cast my ally’s voice through Heaven and Earth! Fourfold Projection!”

As Ralogolar walked to the other side of the wall, a crisp green hue enveloped his body, only to slowly sink into his skin with each step he took. With the last of the hue fading into his body as he reached the edge of the wall, Ralogolar looked down with an unusual arrogant gaze. As he stared over the wall’s edge, the gazes of over a hundred thousand humans gazed back.

“Brothers and sisters, we have waited for too long for us to feast our eyes on this sight!” Ralogolar declared, his voice booming towards the sky as it made even the roar of the flames seem quiet. “Tonight, we reclaim our birthright! Tonight, we show these damned High Elves their demise!”

A deafening roar rose from the army, drowning out Ralogolar’s resonant command as every human in the army screamed in eager anticipation. The ruined wall shook underneath their cheers, though it was not their unified cries, but a tiny, suspended blue flame that shook the stones and sent Ralozenther staggering.

With each passing second, the pale blue flame rotated faster, growing in size and condensing the surrounding air into waves with its centrifugal force. As its gentle blue glow reached Ralogolar’s eyes, he nodded to Rolozuthen before returning his gaze to the army.

“Now, my brothers and sisters! Storm the capital and kill all the commoners you can find!” Ralogolar exclaimed as the blue fireball catapulted through the air towards the wall. “Capture any nobles to be used as collateral! Show them hell!”

The moment Ralogolar’s words left his mouth, the fireball collided with the wall, resulting in a thunderous explosion as it sailed through the layers of stone and metal. The wall trembled violently as dust erupted into the air, cloaking the area of impact and half the army. As the dust settled, a gaping hole nearly fifty meters in length remained where the fireball had struck. Before Ralogolar could utter another word to his army, a united cry from the army echoed across the wall.

“Charge!”

Ralogolar, Rolozuthen, and Ralozenther looked at the stampeding army as they charged full force through the hole, trampling over shattered stones, torn metal beams, and charred corpses in the process. Yet as Rolozuthen and Ralozenther continued to watch, Ralogolar turned to face the other four humans who stood behind them.

“Ralogolar,” one of the four said energetically as she twirled the metal hammer in her hands as if it weighed nothing. “What should we do?”

“Roloxither, Ralogozen, you two command the army from the front, guide them to the castle walls, and break them down,” Ralogolar replied as he walked to the other side of the wall. “Ralozenther and Rolozuthen, stay along the wall and prevent any survivors from escaping.”

“On it,” Roloxither replied, leaping down from the wall with her hammer scraping against it, slowing her descent. “We’ll save the queen for when the rest of you arrive!”

The man known as Ralogozen let out a hearty sigh before leaping down after Roloxither, using his oversized shovel to decelerate his fall in the same manner. Yet as Ralogolar watched the two traverse their way to the front of the army using the ruined houses as a path, he caught a glimpse of a hooded figure leaping from roof to roof in a different direction. 

“Ralojosen, Ralozooji, stay with the army and collect anyone they take as hostage,” Ralogolar said coldly, watching as the hooded figure leapt from rooftop to rooftop, only stopping atop a clock tower toward the center of the city. “I’ll join you all soon, there’s something I need to check first.”

Having finished issuing orders, Ralogolar leapt from the wall with his pickaxe in hand. As he descended, his gaze remained focused on the clock tower, yet something within his gaze had changed. His usual cold demeanor was barely visible through the irritation in his eyes. When he landed in the rubble of the ruined wall, he couldn’t help but mutter to himself.

“Time for phase two.”

***

From a distance, the hooded being peered over the edge of a flame-engulfed clock tower with a somber expression, listening to the chaos of the unexpected revolution. Yet over the screams of death and the battlecries, a series of thunks growing louder over time piqued the being’s interest. As a lone hand reached over the clock tower’s edge, the hooded being turned and spoke.

“Ralogolar, you finally made it.”

As the outstretched hand pulled itself up over the edge, Ralogolar’s spikey white hair and pale face came into view. He glared at the being with his usual cold glare. Despite the voice being unfamiliar, he immediately recognized the man beneath the hood.

“Ralozojin, why are you here?”

Ralozojin began to laugh maniacally as Ralogolar pulled himself over the tower’s edge, yet as he stepped closer with his pickaxe in hand, Ralozojin drew his hood back, revealing shiny blond hair and pointed ears. Around his neck, he donned a lustrous golden necklace with a myriad of symbols and runes inscribed upon it. Connected to the necklace was a gleaming silver gem in the shape of a diamond with four expertly made cuts to each of its sides. Upon realizing the individual’s identity, Ralogolar’s cold expression twitched, as if he was disgusted to see who it truly was.

“The one you call Ralozojin was never real, just a ploy to get what we want,” the Elf said smugly, pointing at Ralogolar as if to get his attention. “But that doesn’t mean we’re enemies, we have similar goals after all.”

Ralogolar scoffed, but he could not refute the Elf’s words. Irritation simmered within him as he leaned over the tower’s edge, drinking in the burning capital’s terrible splendor.

“I knew your promises were too good to be human,” Ralogolar griped. “What do I call you then, if not Ralozojin?”

“My name is Feno Jerrie Heleris. I am the current head of the Sacred Spring’s Church,” he replied, keeping his gaze on Ralogolar as he spoke. “But I’m curious, should I keep calling you Ralogolar, or would you prefer to go by your human name?”

Ralogolar paused as Feno Jerrie Heleris’s words ran through his mind, every fiber of his being squirming with curiosity and anger. The deep-rooted anger within him only mounted as he drew a conclusion from this damned Elf’s words.

“My human name…” Ralogolar muttered through clenched teeth, leveling his gaze on Feno Jerrie Heleris. “Tell it to me, now.”

The air between the two grew thick as their gazes met. Yet Ralogolar’s usual cold glare was nowhere to be seen, as his red eyes burned with an anger even Liadan could not bring out.

“Come now, I can’t divulge that to you this easily,” Feno Jerrie Heleris cackled out. “Let's make a deal.”

“What are your terms?” Ralogolar asked as he watched Feno Jerrie Heleris reach into his cloak and pull out a large book with a worn leather cover.

“You see, the Elven Queen has gone rather mad since the Great War, and many of my supporters from outside Ankalen no longer wish for her to be in power,” Feno Jerrie Heleris said, extending the book to Ralogolar as he spoke. “If you were to relieve Her Majesty from her position, I would be willing to give you this book, and grant the rest of your army safe passage through the other Elven countries.”

“And what if I were to kill you right here and take it from you instead?” Ralogolar asked, tightening his grip on his pickaxe.

“Then I would call you a fool,” Feno Jerrie Heleris replied with a sigh. “While the other Elven countries may not see eye to eye with Ankalen, they certainly would not stand aside and let you humans escape scot free, not without my help that is.”

Ralogolar paused, letting Feno Jerrie Heleris’s offer sink into his mind. Despite the anger coursing through him, he couldn’t help but grab the book from Feno’s hands.

“Fine, I accept your offer,” Ralogolar said begrudgingly, stuffing the book into his tunic. “Now what’s in the book, our human names from before you bastards took us as captives?”

“That, and quite a bit more,” Feno Jerrie Heleris snickered in response. “But that is all I’ll say for now, since it seems like your attention is required elsewhere.”

As Feno Jerrie Heleris spoke, he pointed over the edge of the tower, drawing Ralogolar’s attention to an alley not too far from the clock tower. Three human figures stood between a single Elf girl and the alley’s exit. Even from a distance, he could tell that the girl was no ordinary High Elf. One could tell at a glance that her clothes, whilst tattered, were of a quality higher than even the Inspector’s. However, it was her braided red hair that stood out to him compared to every other High Elf he had ever seen.

“Good luck with your revenge,” Feno Jerrie Heleris said with a smile, covering his head with his hood once more. “You’ll certainly need it, Mr. Bertaut.” 

Without sparing another second, Feno Jerrie Heleris leapt, his cloak billowing in the wind, leaving Ralogolar alone atop the clock tower without much choice regarding his next course of action.