Three Fermen launched before her, blade in hand, eyes wide with that murderous determination. Startling. Ivory jerked, and they fell. Headless, armless, blood spilling out from the severed limbs.
That wasn't done by her!
She frowned, discovered herself surrounded by men and women. All clad in special armor and a metal black cape. The wear of the seatGuards. And leading them, three steps away from her was Nail, dressed in the same black trousers and shirt. A metal plate on the chest, bracelets on the arms and legs. Battle-ready. Veil was not to be seen. Where was he? In the fray? Likely, after all, how was the Fermen to attack an enemy they could not see?
That was the awe of his existence.
Something caught her eye in the distance. Far. The Hall was large enough to warrant the narrowing of the gaze for peering. Ahead, slanted on a pillar of the hall was Javid. Tall, black haired, with a few white strands more lustrous than hers. His eyes, as always, shone with a nearly bleached quality. He seemed bored.
Even with all this?
How was that possible?
A figure leaped toward him. A man wrapped completely within a bloodied, dark, smudged cloth. A fermen.
"JAVID--" She worded, the Fermen descending with a knife in hand, piercing forward for the unaware highHeir! What is he doing?
The knife connected!
Ivory paused.
Pinned over Javid's neck was no blade or knife. Not even some resemblance to metal....but Foilage. A bright red flora. The Fermen seemed stunned by this, too. As expected, one did not attack with a sword and expect a flower. It was an insult to the innate warrior.
What had Javid done?
Wha--
The highHeir had turned, tapping his finger atop the Fermen's forehead. A simple gesture, and he was gone. A blink away from reality. Startling. What power was that? As she knew it, the whiteTower lorded over the mysteryWatcher order. What then was this power?
A boom rocked the chamber, and Ivory almost stumbled to the earth. She was caught by Argon, who offered a rather disconcerting look. Questioning. What was that, Ivory? How did you get an Emerlt?
Surely, even he would entertain the ideas spoken within this hall. What if Ivory colluded with the church?
She gave a glance at Samara, who observed the chaos with a solemn look, white hair cascading down her shoulders, strands lingering on that elegant, pale neck. There seemed to be no care for the revelations made today.
What would Argon do to Mother?
That was a dangerous question!
Another explosion rocked the hall as a figure jumped out from a fume of black smoke. A brown haired young man with a few strands of white. There was a smile on his face, his palm clenched around a long, glossy black sword. He latched onto a pillar, standing horizontally on the vertical pole.
Odd.
He hurled back towards the attack, blade severing flesh from body. Blood splattering as he danced through them, a smile constant on his face.
The Smiling Sword, Julius Dawn of Clan Dawn. Vassal Clan to the House of Noctis. And the ruling Clan of the Dawn Hills!
His presence was expected. What about the other? Where was Barristan night?
A voice flowed into her ears. "We need to go, your Grace." It was a woman--seemed a guardsman. Who knew women were allowed in those? "We need to get you to safety!"
"Right, ye"
And a blade slashed through the guardswoman's throat, her head bouncing and rolling down across the queer floors, wide-eyed, blood splashing onto Ivory. Across her cheeks and dress. So fast. What? The fermen was quickly hacked down by Nail and her thin sword.
Was happened?
Ivory looked down at her fingers, bloodied. There was life a moment ago, a living woman with a future...And now it was gone. Before my eyes, this was taken! She gritted, turned to the chaos, a scream burning in her throat. A hand gripped hers, powerful. Who would dare do that?
Turning sharply, Ivory saw, staring down at her was the churning storm of Valor. Argon, teeth clenched, eyes beaming with a trapped fury. "DON'T EVEN TRY IT!"
"THEY ARE ATTACKING MY PEOPLE! MY VALOR!" Surprising how she could wrench such words before Argon--especially with those tones. She mellowed. "I need them to see the error."
Argon was silent, reared his head for a breath, and muttered. "What about your error?"
"What?"
"I AM NOT AN IDIOT!" He screamed, paused, and whispered. "I know Wane spoke the truth. You collude with the Church? Are you a fool?"
"That's not what it is!" She panicked. "He is not some spy for the church. He is just a man!"
Argon frowned. "So you are a fool." He said, "He gave you an Emerlt, forced this scenario upon reality. You were used for a simple reason. For the weakness of Valor...That's all this was."
"No!" She said, "It was Moth--" She started, bit down on her lips. "You can't kill him!"
"EVEN NOW?" Argon was bewildered. Seldom was that emotion registered on his features. "Even with all this death. This Chaos. You prefer him over Valor?"
"What?"
"Who do you think brought the Fermen?" He asked, "Consider this, Ivory, Daughter of Gladwell. When were you first attacked by them?"
"That wasn't his fault." Ivory said, "He, too, was attacked."
"MIST THIS!" Argon roared. "LOOK AT THAT!"
Ivory observed the hall...in a distance, a young guardsman was pierced through the skull, a knife poking out from his head. Dead. Another was severed from her legs, blood fountaining away into the air. She was dead. More and More, they died in numbers. Her people. Valor.
There was a strange emotion to witness this. To know that many such people existed in Cintry. Many that would perish if a stupid man were to sit on the seal seat. That would die if a Highness ruled by the whims of their emotions.
She paused...Silent.
"What kind of spell did he cast on you?" Argon said, Samara listening.
I need to leave here!
Her eyes looked to the side, to Nail, and that unfamiliar tenseness in her. What am I even doing? Perhaps it was the surge of the internal force, but the mind brought things into perspective.
To a darkCrown, would her actions not be those of an idiot? Was this not some measure of utilitarian inversion? One for the many. Kabel for Valor. These men, after this battle, would inevitably ponder the questions and rumors. The Vassal clans of Valor would have a different sensation present in their hearts. Not the ultimate loyalty, but questions. Dangerous questions.
A tall Excubitor ripped off a Fermen's head--like a fruit of sorts, busting it within his grasp.
Was it what it took for me to see?
Kabel is just a man!
This is stupid, isn't it? Kabel would never forsake the Church, just like how I would never leave Valor. How inconsiderate! Ivory passed a glance at the headless women, blood spilling and pooling underneath. To think it took death and Argon to make me see that!
A rumble shook the hall, and then silence. She turned and saw then two Fermen, standing by the other, blade in hand, poised for battle. Around them, surrounded, was a cohort of Excubitors, Blademasters, casters...Even Master Geld.
Only two lived--the rest had long met their deaths.
Argon roared now. "TAKE THEM TO STONE BASTION! WE WILL LEARN OF THE ENEMY THAT CAUSED THIS GREAT SIN!"
Ivory observed the storm of Valor and thought: Has he given up on me? What more questions would he have? About the Emerlt, about the strange symbol I had used. Perhaps I could blame it all on the formless. Lie. I would be right, partially, and Mother would be safe.
Was that enough?
She said, "Take me, Nail. I need to go."
Argon scowled at her. "No, you don't."
Please.... She said, "This is something I must do, Father." She saw the effects the word had on him. "Trust me for this."
He frowned.
____________
Ivory hovered down from the stone-walled roof, atop the black disk, Nail by her side, as Delney had long died in the battle, a knife to the heart by a Fermen. She wondered briefly whether to share a moment of sadness for the Aspirant. Whoever he was, he too enjoyed a life, memories, and a future. Now he was dead. Am I truly a fool?
One of the many!
Why?
Currently, Argon and some deadEyes were analyzing the battle for the retrieval of some clues. Why would the Fermen attack? They were, in essence, a collection of Assassins for hire. Who then had hired them for this specific task? Who would desire such chaos for Valor?
Answer: Anybody. Thus was the nature of a great clan to be hated by enemies, rival clans, or houses from some Free cities. Even the Theocracy itself could have orchestrated the event. So many variables, but so few clues.
Argon, she knew, was more than willing to pin this on the Aspirant!