Chapter 7 - The Awaited Conflict (1)

Chapter 7: The Awaited Conflict (1)  

Inside the castle, a lone male Elf decked in gleaming silver-and-blue metal armor sprinted down a window-lined hall, the clanging of metal drowning out the thud of his boots on the cold stone floor. Yet the beads of sweat that dripped from his face weren’t from how much he had been running, but rather from the grim news he carried. 

As the end of the hall came into his sight, a majestic wooden door with intricately carved designs of a tree with sprawling roots lay between him and the source of his anxiety. With each step he took, another bead of sweat dripped from his face. The Elf continued on, knowing the news he carried was of greater importance than even his life. As soon as he came within arm's reach of the door he slid to a halt, and with a firm push the heavy door began to creak and push outward, exposing a lavish hall lined with statues as tall as two-stories and guards in glistening white armor with the golden symbol of Elven nobility etched on their chest pieces. 

The young Elf swallowed hard as he stepped into the throne room, its suffocating pressure clamping down on his mind like a vise. Yet the pressure came not from the dozens of Elven knights standing guard throughout the room, but from the lone Elven woman sitting on a luxurious throne at the end of the room; with crystals in every color of the rainbow filling the space behind the throne, branching out in every direction like the limbs of a tree. 

The young Elf gulped once more as he approached the throne, each step sending daggers up his legs. Still, he forced himself forward, breaking into a run despite the pain. In most cases, it was customary to walk within this heavily guarded room, but dire situations always preceded customs.

As the young-looking Elf arrived at the steps to the throne, he knelt on one knee and lowered his head before the Queen. Struggling to steady his breath, he awaited her reply. But the silence stretched on, cold and heavy, permeating the entire chamber until it felt as though he might choke on it.

“Speak quickly. What is happening within my country?” the Queen asked sternly, her head held high despite an ever-worried gaze in her eyes.

“Your Majesty,” the young Elf spoke firmly. “The lesser beings we kept in the fields and mines have rebelled. Roughly one hundred ten thousand of them have breached the capital walls, and they are approaching the castle’s walls as we speak.”

The Queen stood up angrily. Normally, such dire news wouldn’t provoke a reaction from her. But her now-wounded pride began to overflow like a river in a turbulent storm.

“Explain yourself!” she exclaimed, walking down the steps to her throne. “What of the guards and inspectors? Of the nobles and citizens? Have they too been killed?”

The young Elf remained motionless, his eyes carving a pit into the floor which he wishes he could sink into, as they trembled wildly. A pool of sweat accumulated slowly beneath his chin, increasing drop by drop as the Queen’s infuriated gaze seemed to bore holes into his head. Regardless, he knew he had to respond. He cleared his throat softly and raised his head, meeting the Queen’s gaze.

“The guards outside the castle have been eliminated, and we’ve heard no word from any of the thirteen Inspector squads.” The young Elf continued hesitantly, “As far as we can tell, the nobles and commoners have been decimated as well. If there are any survivors, they are either hiding, on the brink of death, or being held hostage.”

The Queen took a step back and pressed her fingers to her temples, eyes squeezed shut. For twenty years, there have been no issues with the lesser beings that she kept outside of the capital. Yet now, despite that decision, despite all semblance of freedom being stripped away from the lesser beings, they still succeeded in finding a way to cause her problems. 

The Queen opened her mouth to speak, but before any words could escape, a roar erupted through the castle as the floors and walls quaked violently. The Queen and every other Elf in the room struggled to maintain their footing as the solid stone walls and intricately sculpted statues shed off flakes with each tremor. Only a moment would pass before the trembling came to subside. Yet the once-silent castle still roared with the echoes of the previous shaking, leaving even the Queen dazed and confused.

In mere seconds, the Queen snapped out of her daze, and with an elegance befitting her royalty, she turned to her throne, where a single Elf in brilliant golden armor stood. His luscious black hair rippled through the air despite the absence of wind to propel it, and although his clean-shaven jaw and almost-flawless skin would make him stand out in almost any crowd, his undeniably shorter stature made his presence the most unique amongst the room of tall Elves.

“Commander Trasys, has there been any word from Marshal Miathra? Surely he wouldn’t forsake his home for some stupid journey?” the Queen inquired, clearly agitated by the current situation.

Yet the short Elf, known as Commander Trasys, shook his head in response. “Your Majesty, we’ve heard no word from Marshal Miathra. Not since he decided to depart twenty years ago after our defeat.”

He spoke with a deep sense of regret, though it was not from recalling the events of the war, but from the loss Ankalen had faced upon his disappearance. Even the least talented High Elves had the potential to become an Expert, be it with weapons or through magic. Yet even amongst all the other Elven races, someone with the potential to become a Master only appeared once in every ten thousand Elves.

Marshal Miathra was that one Elf in ten thousand, a Swordmaster who stood above every other High Elf in terms of combat ability. Yet at the turning point of the war his strength failed him; a brutal, unexpected defeat at the hands of a human, of all beings, cost him the very arm he had once used to fell countless foes.

It was only after his defeat that Marshal Miathra experienced a change, one so wild and unexplainable that the remaining High Elves thought he had gone mad. As the remaining forces of Ankalen fled from the Northern continent, he stayed behind, vanishing without a trace. The only proof of his disappearance was a letter with a single sentence written upon it.

Despite his letter, the Queen spent many years searching for him, yet not a single trace of him had appeared, as if he had completely vanished from the Northern continent. With her most trusted soldier gone, her pride wounded from losing to an inferior species, and the gravity of age slowly dawning upon her, the Queen couldn’t help but feel much dejected after the war.

“Tch, we will continue without him then!” the Queen declared with a swift wave of her arm. “Commander Trasys, gather my soldiers and remove the lesser beings from my great country!”

Commander Trasys snapped out of his mournful state upon hearing the Queen’s decree. Within seconds, a single unified response resonated through the throne room, followed by the clang of armor as the fifty-one knights in the room began to stride toward the doors.

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Atop the remains of a once sturdy roof, Ralogozen and Roloxither stood with bated breath, watching the dimly lit streets of Ankalen swarm with humans. Although they merely watched from above, following their orders to guide the army in the right direction, the sound of their weapons slamming against the already damaged roof demonstrated their excitement over the ongoing rebellion. With each resounding knock of their matte gray pommels against the splintered wood roof, the army below responded in turn with a fierce outcry as they trudged with a single destination in mind.

“They’ll make their way into the castle soon. We should make our move now,” Roloxither said, twirling her hammer as if it were weightless.

“No, let’s wait. Even if we break into the castle now, the army is just a distraction. We’ll stay here and wait for Ralogolar,” Ralogozen replied, continuing to slam the end of his shovel against the roof.

Roloxither clenched the handle of her hammer, halting its movement immediately. With a bewildered gaze in her eyes, she turned to face Ralogozen. Had he spoken of the army as a distraction before the revolution started, she would have believed him, yet his sudden change in character left her baffled.

“What’s wrong with you, you’re not chickening out before we obtain our freedom, are you?” she asked, leaning towards Ralogozen with a suspicious gaze.

Ralogozen turned to face Roloxither, wearing a stern expression across his face, yet his eyes lingered with doubt as the two gazed at each other.

“Out of all seven of us, Ralogolar is the strongest. You saw how he was when we stormed the outer wall. While the rest of us could barely finish off three of those damn Elves, he single-handedly took down over a dozen by himself,” Ralogozen stated, gripping the handle of his shovel with pent-up emotions flaring.

“So?” Roloxither replied, fixing her posture as confusion spread across her face.

“So? Did you also forget he planned most of this revolution?” Ralogozen added, slamming his shovel through the roof. “As much as we trust him, as much as the army trusts him, one person shouldn’t be in charge of everything. Especially someone like Ralogolar. With how much everyone else trusts him, he could make something go wrong, and we’d all believe he wasn’t involved.” 

“You’re overthinking things again, Gozen,” Roloxither chided, placing her palm on Ralogozen’s chest and staring longingly into his worried eyes. “But if you can’t bring yourself to trust Ralogolar’s plans, place your trust instead in the rest of us… And if you can’t do that, then just trust me.”

Nevertheless, as the two shared a peaceful moment despite their infernal environment, it was quickly disrupted by a succession of roars that overtook the capital. The roars yanked the two back to reality as they shifted their gazes to the castle.

“Look, the main army has reached the castle,” Roloxither said softly, removing her hand from Ralogozen’s chest. “We should get going.”

With leaps as nimble as a cat’s, Roloxither jumped from one rooftop to the next, smashing her way through the debris and flames with her lustrous blue and gray hammer as she moved.

Ralogozen hesitated to follow her, as he stood motionless while pondering her words. With a heavy sigh, he leaped from the building moments later, muttering to himself as he followed in her steps.

“I hope you’re right…”