A Tale of Pride
“Such a warm day that Asmodeus has damned us with, isn’t it Brother?” The breeze cut through Daviena’s raven black hair. All of Califas was visible from the balcony. The streets bustling with peasants, busy markets and the toil of blacksmiths, but even the capital had its darker side, bearded devils patrolled the streets cutting down those who came too close, guillotines making red accents on the pavement beneath their baskets.
“Blisteringly so, what is this, our sister’s third coronation? What will she be queen of next: piss and ants?” Sweat pooled in my collar, I couldn’t stand the heat. I hadn’t been further south than Feron in almost two hundred years, and now I had been fighting a war here for six months.
“Oh Infrexus, can’t you just calm down? Don’t lose your cool, get it?” Her voice was jovial, but she was right I needed to stay calm today. I had missed the previous coronation and that was much more significant, being proclaimed the mortal wife of Barbatos was something I should have been there for.
“Yes, I get it your joke, but this isn’t something to celebrate with a coronation, these things shouldn’t be redone like the renewal of vows.” I moved to the stone railing feeling the gradient of the stone in my hand, below was the adamantine garden, crimson grass stared back hungering, the yard grown with the blood of thousands of damned rebels.
“But we won the war, isn’t that something to celebrate?” She matched my stare looking a little giddy while peering at the flora below, “Do you ever think of just killing a few civilians?”
“Daviena, are you alright? We are rulers not demons, indiscriminate killing is an act of chaos. Decimation has its place, but not without purpose.” She wasn’t the least stable of the knights, but she was wrong, all of them were, exercising power for the sake of power has no place here. It is chaos. Power with precision is the truth of rule.
“But aren’t we supposed to be better than them?” she spread her black wings and they rustled in the wind. “If we can’t show them that we are better than them, how will they know?” I stared at her with the frost of a blizzard and her face shifted from affable to fearful, her wings pulled in as if to cloister herself from her failure of responsibility.
I turned and walked back into the keep. The cobble were walls lined with mosaics and stained-glass depictions of distant powerful beings that dominated the past: Kazavon, the dragon warlord; Tar Baphon, the whispering tyrant; Infrexus Thrune, for which I am named; and Xandergul, the runelord of pride. At the end of the hall sat Her Majestrix, Queen Abrogail III, my younger sister. “My Majestrix, I come to greet you on your unholy day of coronation. Please accept my gratitude and praise in your decisive defeat of our enemy nation.” The words felt like poison filling my lungs; I was the one that defeated the elven bastards, but she has a coronation for herself to celebrate it.
“I do thank you Ser Knight of Greed, your efforts in the conflict were quite noble indeed, Ser Galt, please afford him our gift for his work.” Her words sounded soothing and genuine, but from her nothing could be. She sat on a throne gained through blood and lies.
My brother stepped down and presented the gift, a scimitar made of solid gold, the magic so potent it could be seen with the naked eye dripping from the blade with a red glow. “What is this my Majestrix?”
“Chellan, the blade of greed,” she stated smugly, “It was more resilient than most, but its will was broken all the same. Your efforts have more than earned it.” She sounded, almost like she did it, although I knew Mukar would be the only thing strong enough to bend the artefact’s will. “Thank you my Majestrix, this will serve New Cheliax well in my hand.” It would serve well in my back scabbard, the spear is my lord’s weapon, this gift was nothing more than an insult to Baalzebul.
“How many of our brothers will join us today?”
“They should all be here, all except Relhan.” Galt spoke in a matter of fact tone, never bothering to add force to his words, it was a blessing and a curse for him, never gaining enemies, but never garnering allies. The queen’s guard stood in a black suit of adamantine plate, his greatsword across his back.
“Ah, and any relns?”
“Doriel Gray, a new reln in Daval.”
“One of our grotesque brother Orbiel’s then?” The fat fucker had always gotten to me, his incessant munching and whoring was no way for a leader to act, the only thing that ever came out of his province was food, and even then, half of that goes down his own gullet.
“Indeed, apparently Doriel more than doubled his output this year, nearly lost his head for it, lesser lords can be quite violent.”
“Indeed, that’s why I don’t have any. Things work better that way.”
An angered call from the throne rooms entered with volcanic force, “Infrexus, you bastard! I could have taken my own fortress!” My brother Velt stormed towards me, Daviena close behind seemingly failing to calm him down. Velt was an incessant fool, never quite knowing his place, his transformation had left him stained with red skin, horns, and a tail.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I needed a fortress to station in and yours just happened to be vacant after I voided it of the enemy.”
He stopped short of me, his legs poised to spring into a fight, his finger pointing like a rapier at the heart of a duelist. “Yes, yes, of course, is that why you went ahead and killed my men that were imprisoned there?” Heated air started to distort his face like a mirage in the desert, yet another drawback of his weak will over Hell.
“They didn’t die fighting, they were traitors.”
“THEY WERE MY TRAITORS TO KILL!” The room fell silent as Abrogail looked down upon Velt. He stammered for a bit, “I am sorry my Majestrix, I shouldn’t have…”
“There are several things you shouldn’t have done,” her words felt colder than Cocytus, “Infrexus you hold no fortress is that correct?”
“I hold the realm of Fargen, within it, I control the Avaratic Keep.”
“And you Ser Velt? What fortress do you hold?” She was planning something, wasting this much time to prove a point was all she was good at.
His words spat like proud fire, “I control Fort Vanhal, as such I control the line between Yin Sar, we are New Cheliax’s first defense and the first to battle.”
The queen paused, looking baffled by Velt’s stupidity, “Ser Velt, I must correct you, firstly, your line broke, in fact, the Order of the Nail held longer than you with a tenth of the forces. Secondly, the first to battle does not mean that you leave your defenses behind and charge the enemy in the open, it is called a fortress as it is meant to be fortified. And lastly, you called your fortress by the wrong name, I do believe it is called Fort Infrexus now. Maybe that will give you something to aspire to.”
Velt recoiled, “My queen, please!”
“That is Majestrix to you Ser Velt, you are lucky your head is still attached to your body, fail me again and a guillotine will be the least of your concerns.”
I knelt, “Thank you my Majestrix, this honor shall not be wasted.”
“I am more than aware,” as the queen finished Velt fell quiet and walked to the comfort of a corner where he couldn’t embarrass himself more.
A foul stench wafted over the room, a reek of spoiled food and beer.
I stood turning and called out, “Orbiel, my brother, are you there?”
A guttural response graced my ears with its depraving tone, “Of course I am. I would never miss a celebration for the world.” Similarly, he would never miss breakfast, brunch, lunch, an appetizer, dinner, and dessert. “How did you know I was here? I hadn’t even turned the corner.”
“I had a… sense of intuition.” He stood shorter than everyone else, but he made up for it in waist, his armor had expanded since I had seen him last, extra plates had been added to wrap around his newly expanded gut. Next to him like a chained puppy stood a thin man with pale ash skin, he leaned onto an umbrella he used as a cane.
“Ah, this is my newest reln, Doriel Gray, why don’t you two talk while I find the hors d’oeuvres? Orbiel’s armor bent and warped under his weight as he walked away leaving his reln alone like a drunk shepherd disregarding a lamb.
Doriel stood there looking around confused before clearing his throat starting softly, “Hello Ser, I am Doriel Damned, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He held out a trembling hand.
“Do you know who I am?” This man did not know who he dealt with, holding a hand was for business negotiations, I was a lord.
“No Ser, I don’t think I do.” He lowered his hand, pocketing it like a child hiding candy from a parent.
“I see, well Doriel, I was told by my brother your surname was Gray.”
“Ah, well, yes, he assigned me that name after my... transformation? Is that what this would be?” “Transformation? Into what?”
“A vampire, Ser.”
“Oh, honestly I thought it would be more interesting than that, I figured you transformed into some ascended vampire, seeing as you still need the umbrella that was foolish of me.”
“Yes, although I did not catch your name, Ser.”
“Ser Infrexus”
He fell silent for a moment, “I see, I feel foolish for not recognizing you, did you receive the aid I sent?”
“The fish? That was from you?”
“Yes Ser, that’s actually why I’m a vampire now, guess you could say I died in the war.”
I grinned, finally someone else that did something for that shit show of a war, “Well, I can firmly say you did more than your lord knight in that war. If you need something see me in the Avaratic Keep and remember that I don’t give favors lightly.”
A hand grabbed my shoulder, “Good afternoon cousin, how is it up north?”
“Indignus, I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stood eye level with me, his armor a foil to mine, a deep crimson with golden trim, his green eyes piercing through his helm. “The north is under control as always, although I will have a demon issue to take care of upon my return. How is the guard?”
“The guard serves well, a true shame that I’m already thirty, my prime is quickly passing.” He was somber, a true patriot wishing to serve his queen in perpetuity.
“Perhaps you should petition Galt, see if you would be permitted longevity.”
“I already have, he has told me it is only permitted for pure Thrunes.”
“Are you not?”
He looked down, “The pedigree records aren’t clear; he doesn’t want to take an unnecessary risk,” distain filled his words.
“I am sorry, if you petition me, I could try to get you a route to the queen.”
“No, Galt has already informed the queen, there is no point anymore.”
“If you are removed from your position you won’t have trouble finding rank as an officer in my army, you always were one of my best trainees.”
“Thank you Infrexus.”
Hours passed before the coronation finally took place, Orbiel found Daviena sleeping with a now executed wine server in the cellar. It was quite fun to watch Daviena cut the boys head off right after they enjoyed such a good time together.
Cadius arrived late, apparently, he had encountered a stray Yin Sarian convoy and spent some time annihilating them. He hadn’t contributed much to the war. Sea raids were already keeping him from sending aid by the time he knew the war had begun.
Mukar entered the room, he was perhaps one of the most terrifying things in New Cheliax. His horns scraped the doorway as he stepped through standing over twenty feet tall, he shook his horse-sized wings knocking the cobble dust from them. Mukar was a true devil, a pit fiend. The chamberlain started in a deep low tone, “Lords and Ladies, Knights and Relns, today we are here to honor Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail III in her victory over Yin Sar and hereby reinstate her regal control over all of Avistan. We know now that other nations have nothing but envy in their hearts and minds and as such have declared themselves enemies and rebels of the Infernal Empire of Cheliax.” Finishing in a wicked smile he looked towards an armored figure ushering him forward with a massive claw.
The man walked with a crude gait wearing a strange green-silver armor adorned in maroon robes, presenting the newest crown to Abrogail, “Should any disapprove of the Majestrix’s rule please share your plea now.” The words were heard throughout the room as though carried by a torrent of wind, they froze everyone in place with irresistible authority.
“I have but a minor objection,” Indignus stepped before the room, before Mukar, before Galt, before the queen, his words broke the room like a vortex of sulfur burning away a cold snap. “I do not see your chosen guardian fit; I would challenge Ser Galt for his place with your permission my queen.”
The queen was the only one in the room without a look of surprise, her and myself. Indignus knew where his loyalties lay and was more than willing to die for his queen. Abrogail spoke, “Then you shall fight, Ser Galt please show no mercy.”
Galt drew his greatsword, a massive blade that had bifurcated several demons in its time. He guarded center as he moved to the heart of the throne room crossing left foot over right. Indignus stood dazed at the queen’s acceptance and drew his rapier, no, it was just a hilt, did he plan to die as a fool?
“I thank you my Majestrix,” Indignus bowed to Ser Galt commencing the duel. Wasting no time Galt leveled his blade perpendicular to Indignus and a streak of white light flew detonating as it struck Indignus. The room was briefly engulfed in flame before the fireball imploded and was pulled into the silhouette of a saber, one stemming from Indugnus’s empty hilt. “That is no way to start a duel Galt.”
“You should do better to refer to your superiors with their titles.” Ser Galt charged Indignus bringing his blade down on Indignus who darted left barely dodging the sword. “It is just you and I Galt, there are no superiors here no rank, even the Majestrix holds no control over this duel, just you and I.”
“Don’t play coy with me, boy.” Galt’s face contorted with rage, lifting his sword in a second and slashing at Indignus’s head. In an attempt to block, Indignus brought up his open arm which was cut to the elbow. The blow resounded with a sickening crack of bone and leaving little more than a splintered, twisted wreck. “Maybe I should watch you bleed out then.”
“I wouldn’t be so cocky.” Indignus whispered preforming an incantation, the blood from his arm skirting up the sword and freezing it to his arm. “And for the coup de grace.” Indignus twisted his body pulling the sword from Ser Galt’s hand and smashing the hilt to the floor. The reverberation caused the ice to shatter along with the blade and Indignus’s arm while Galt watched in awe, Indignus ducked below what remained of Galt’s guard and lunged forward with the invisible blade.
A brief moment of silence fell when Galt landed upon the floor, crimson pooling from a chink in his armor. “I have won, my Majestrix.” Indignus gritted his teeth in pain.
A grin crept across Abrogail’s face and a look of satisfaction washed over her, “It seems you have, Ser Indignus, my Knight of Pride.”
“Blisteringly so, what is this, our sister’s third coronation? What will she be queen of next: piss and ants?” Sweat pooled in my collar, I couldn’t stand the heat. I hadn’t been further south than Feron in almost two hundred years, and now I had been fighting a war here for six months.
“Oh Infrexus, can’t you just calm down? Don’t lose your cool, get it?” Her voice was jovial, but she was right I needed to stay calm today. I had missed the previous coronation and that was much more significant, being proclaimed the mortal wife of Barbatos was something I should have been there for.
“Yes, I get it your joke, but this isn’t something to celebrate with a coronation, these things shouldn’t be redone like the renewal of vows.” I moved to the stone railing feeling the gradient of the stone in my hand, below was the adamantine garden, crimson grass stared back hungering, the yard grown with the blood of thousands of damned rebels.
“But we won the war, isn’t that something to celebrate?” She matched my stare looking a little giddy while peering at the flora below, “Do you ever think of just killing a few civilians?”
“Daviena, are you alright? We are rulers not demons, indiscriminate killing is an act of chaos. Decimation has its place, but not without purpose.” She wasn’t the least stable of the knights, but she was wrong, all of them were, exercising power for the sake of power has no place here. It is chaos. Power with precision is the truth of rule.
“But aren’t we supposed to be better than them?” she spread her black wings and they rustled in the wind. “If we can’t show them that we are better than them, how will they know?” I stared at her with the frost of a blizzard and her face shifted from affable to fearful, her wings pulled in as if to cloister herself from her failure of responsibility.
I turned and walked back into the keep. The cobble were walls lined with mosaics and stained-glass depictions of distant powerful beings that dominated the past: Kazavon, the dragon warlord; Tar Baphon, the whispering tyrant; Infrexus Thrune, for which I am named; and Xandergul, the runelord of pride. At the end of the hall sat Her Majestrix, Queen Abrogail III, my younger sister. “My Majestrix, I come to greet you on your unholy day of coronation. Please accept my gratitude and praise in your decisive defeat of our enemy nation.” The words felt like poison filling my lungs; I was the one that defeated the elven bastards, but she has a coronation for herself to celebrate it.
“I do thank you Ser Knight of Greed, your efforts in the conflict were quite noble indeed, Ser Galt, please afford him our gift for his work.” Her words sounded soothing and genuine, but from her nothing could be. She sat on a throne gained through blood and lies.
My brother stepped down and presented the gift, a scimitar made of solid gold, the magic so potent it could be seen with the naked eye dripping from the blade with a red glow. “What is this my Majestrix?”
“Chellan, the blade of greed,” she stated smugly, “It was more resilient than most, but its will was broken all the same. Your efforts have more than earned it.” She sounded, almost like she did it, although I knew Mukar would be the only thing strong enough to bend the artefact’s will. “Thank you my Majestrix, this will serve New Cheliax well in my hand.” It would serve well in my back scabbard, the spear is my lord’s weapon, this gift was nothing more than an insult to Baalzebul.
“How many of our brothers will join us today?”
“They should all be here, all except Relhan.” Galt spoke in a matter of fact tone, never bothering to add force to his words, it was a blessing and a curse for him, never gaining enemies, but never garnering allies. The queen’s guard stood in a black suit of adamantine plate, his greatsword across his back.
“Ah, and any relns?”
“Doriel Gray, a new reln in Daval.”
“One of our grotesque brother Orbiel’s then?” The fat fucker had always gotten to me, his incessant munching and whoring was no way for a leader to act, the only thing that ever came out of his province was food, and even then, half of that goes down his own gullet.
“Indeed, apparently Doriel more than doubled his output this year, nearly lost his head for it, lesser lords can be quite violent.”
“Indeed, that’s why I don’t have any. Things work better that way.”
An angered call from the throne rooms entered with volcanic force, “Infrexus, you bastard! I could have taken my own fortress!” My brother Velt stormed towards me, Daviena close behind seemingly failing to calm him down. Velt was an incessant fool, never quite knowing his place, his transformation had left him stained with red skin, horns, and a tail.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I needed a fortress to station in and yours just happened to be vacant after I voided it of the enemy.”
He stopped short of me, his legs poised to spring into a fight, his finger pointing like a rapier at the heart of a duelist. “Yes, yes, of course, is that why you went ahead and killed my men that were imprisoned there?” Heated air started to distort his face like a mirage in the desert, yet another drawback of his weak will over Hell.
“They didn’t die fighting, they were traitors.”
“THEY WERE MY TRAITORS TO KILL!” The room fell silent as Abrogail looked down upon Velt. He stammered for a bit, “I am sorry my Majestrix, I shouldn’t have…”
“There are several things you shouldn’t have done,” her words felt colder than Cocytus, “Infrexus you hold no fortress is that correct?”
“I hold the realm of Fargen, within it, I control the Avaratic Keep.”
“And you Ser Velt? What fortress do you hold?” She was planning something, wasting this much time to prove a point was all she was good at.
His words spat like proud fire, “I control Fort Vanhal, as such I control the line between Yin Sar, we are New Cheliax’s first defense and the first to battle.”
The queen paused, looking baffled by Velt’s stupidity, “Ser Velt, I must correct you, firstly, your line broke, in fact, the Order of the Nail held longer than you with a tenth of the forces. Secondly, the first to battle does not mean that you leave your defenses behind and charge the enemy in the open, it is called a fortress as it is meant to be fortified. And lastly, you called your fortress by the wrong name, I do believe it is called Fort Infrexus now. Maybe that will give you something to aspire to.”
Velt recoiled, “My queen, please!”
“That is Majestrix to you Ser Velt, you are lucky your head is still attached to your body, fail me again and a guillotine will be the least of your concerns.”
I knelt, “Thank you my Majestrix, this honor shall not be wasted.”
“I am more than aware,” as the queen finished Velt fell quiet and walked to the comfort of a corner where he couldn’t embarrass himself more.
A foul stench wafted over the room, a reek of spoiled food and beer.
I stood turning and called out, “Orbiel, my brother, are you there?”
A guttural response graced my ears with its depraving tone, “Of course I am. I would never miss a celebration for the world.” Similarly, he would never miss breakfast, brunch, lunch, an appetizer, dinner, and dessert. “How did you know I was here? I hadn’t even turned the corner.”
“I had a… sense of intuition.” He stood shorter than everyone else, but he made up for it in waist, his armor had expanded since I had seen him last, extra plates had been added to wrap around his newly expanded gut. Next to him like a chained puppy stood a thin man with pale ash skin, he leaned onto an umbrella he used as a cane.
“Ah, this is my newest reln, Doriel Gray, why don’t you two talk while I find the hors d’oeuvres? Orbiel’s armor bent and warped under his weight as he walked away leaving his reln alone like a drunk shepherd disregarding a lamb.
Doriel stood there looking around confused before clearing his throat starting softly, “Hello Ser, I am Doriel Damned, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He held out a trembling hand.
“Do you know who I am?” This man did not know who he dealt with, holding a hand was for business negotiations, I was a lord.
“No Ser, I don’t think I do.” He lowered his hand, pocketing it like a child hiding candy from a parent.
“I see, well Doriel, I was told by my brother your surname was Gray.”
“Ah, well, yes, he assigned me that name after my... transformation? Is that what this would be?” “Transformation? Into what?”
“A vampire, Ser.”
“Oh, honestly I thought it would be more interesting than that, I figured you transformed into some ascended vampire, seeing as you still need the umbrella that was foolish of me.”
“Yes, although I did not catch your name, Ser.”
“Ser Infrexus”
He fell silent for a moment, “I see, I feel foolish for not recognizing you, did you receive the aid I sent?”
“The fish? That was from you?”
“Yes Ser, that’s actually why I’m a vampire now, guess you could say I died in the war.”
I grinned, finally someone else that did something for that shit show of a war, “Well, I can firmly say you did more than your lord knight in that war. If you need something see me in the Avaratic Keep and remember that I don’t give favors lightly.”
A hand grabbed my shoulder, “Good afternoon cousin, how is it up north?”
“Indignus, I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stood eye level with me, his armor a foil to mine, a deep crimson with golden trim, his green eyes piercing through his helm. “The north is under control as always, although I will have a demon issue to take care of upon my return. How is the guard?”
“The guard serves well, a true shame that I’m already thirty, my prime is quickly passing.” He was somber, a true patriot wishing to serve his queen in perpetuity.
“Perhaps you should petition Galt, see if you would be permitted longevity.”
“I already have, he has told me it is only permitted for pure Thrunes.”
“Are you not?”
He looked down, “The pedigree records aren’t clear; he doesn’t want to take an unnecessary risk,” distain filled his words.
“I am sorry, if you petition me, I could try to get you a route to the queen.”
“No, Galt has already informed the queen, there is no point anymore.”
“If you are removed from your position you won’t have trouble finding rank as an officer in my army, you always were one of my best trainees.”
“Thank you Infrexus.”
Hours passed before the coronation finally took place, Orbiel found Daviena sleeping with a now executed wine server in the cellar. It was quite fun to watch Daviena cut the boys head off right after they enjoyed such a good time together.
Cadius arrived late, apparently, he had encountered a stray Yin Sarian convoy and spent some time annihilating them. He hadn’t contributed much to the war. Sea raids were already keeping him from sending aid by the time he knew the war had begun.
Mukar entered the room, he was perhaps one of the most terrifying things in New Cheliax. His horns scraped the doorway as he stepped through standing over twenty feet tall, he shook his horse-sized wings knocking the cobble dust from them. Mukar was a true devil, a pit fiend. The chamberlain started in a deep low tone, “Lords and Ladies, Knights and Relns, today we are here to honor Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail III in her victory over Yin Sar and hereby reinstate her regal control over all of Avistan. We know now that other nations have nothing but envy in their hearts and minds and as such have declared themselves enemies and rebels of the Infernal Empire of Cheliax.” Finishing in a wicked smile he looked towards an armored figure ushering him forward with a massive claw.
The man walked with a crude gait wearing a strange green-silver armor adorned in maroon robes, presenting the newest crown to Abrogail, “Should any disapprove of the Majestrix’s rule please share your plea now.” The words were heard throughout the room as though carried by a torrent of wind, they froze everyone in place with irresistible authority.
“I have but a minor objection,” Indignus stepped before the room, before Mukar, before Galt, before the queen, his words broke the room like a vortex of sulfur burning away a cold snap. “I do not see your chosen guardian fit; I would challenge Ser Galt for his place with your permission my queen.”
The queen was the only one in the room without a look of surprise, her and myself. Indignus knew where his loyalties lay and was more than willing to die for his queen. Abrogail spoke, “Then you shall fight, Ser Galt please show no mercy.”
Galt drew his greatsword, a massive blade that had bifurcated several demons in its time. He guarded center as he moved to the heart of the throne room crossing left foot over right. Indignus stood dazed at the queen’s acceptance and drew his rapier, no, it was just a hilt, did he plan to die as a fool?
“I thank you my Majestrix,” Indignus bowed to Ser Galt commencing the duel. Wasting no time Galt leveled his blade perpendicular to Indignus and a streak of white light flew detonating as it struck Indignus. The room was briefly engulfed in flame before the fireball imploded and was pulled into the silhouette of a saber, one stemming from Indugnus’s empty hilt. “That is no way to start a duel Galt.”
“You should do better to refer to your superiors with their titles.” Ser Galt charged Indignus bringing his blade down on Indignus who darted left barely dodging the sword. “It is just you and I Galt, there are no superiors here no rank, even the Majestrix holds no control over this duel, just you and I.”
“Don’t play coy with me, boy.” Galt’s face contorted with rage, lifting his sword in a second and slashing at Indignus’s head. In an attempt to block, Indignus brought up his open arm which was cut to the elbow. The blow resounded with a sickening crack of bone and leaving little more than a splintered, twisted wreck. “Maybe I should watch you bleed out then.”
“I wouldn’t be so cocky.” Indignus whispered preforming an incantation, the blood from his arm skirting up the sword and freezing it to his arm. “And for the coup de grace.” Indignus twisted his body pulling the sword from Ser Galt’s hand and smashing the hilt to the floor. The reverberation caused the ice to shatter along with the blade and Indignus’s arm while Galt watched in awe, Indignus ducked below what remained of Galt’s guard and lunged forward with the invisible blade.
A brief moment of silence fell when Galt landed upon the floor, crimson pooling from a chink in his armor. “I have won, my Majestrix.” Indignus gritted his teeth in pain.
A grin crept across Abrogail’s face and a look of satisfaction washed over her, “It seems you have, Ser Indignus, my Knight of Pride.”
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