Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

Marcus frowns as he stands there, rubbing a thumb down the haft of his halberd as he goes over the battle again and again in his head. There, in the beautifully carved wood… almost imperceptible to the naked eye… is a crack. It wasn’t there before. Marcus knows for a fact that it wasn’t. For one, he knew this weapon like the back of his hand. He made sure to take very good care of this weapon. It was one of the first gifts he’d ever been given after all.
 
But also… perhaps more importantly even, Marcus knew that this was the part of the halberd’s haft where the General had brought her strange black sword down in that opening blow. That overhead swing of hers had managed to rock him to his very core. His bones had rattled within him, and he’d buckled beneath it. For the first time since he’d Awakened, Marcus had been pushed back by someone else’s blow.
 
General Roka-Ra was no slouch. She was most definitely not a pushover. She was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the hardest fight that Marcus had ever had. Just going over the battle again in his head, makes his heart pick up speed as Marcus remembers how overwhelmed he felt at first. Roka-Ra was all over him at the start, fighting like a woman possessed, like she had the strength of a hundred damn orcs.
 
He’d eventually found his footing though. When he remembered that Angelina was nearby, that Princess Elsenthia was counting on him, and all of the other surviving Paladins besides… he’d found an inner reserve of resolve and pushed himself to match her blow for blow. He’d just had to remember what he was fighting for.
 
But that alone was absolutely shocking, in a way. Ever since he’d awakened, Marcus hadn’t been on even footing with anyone. Not that bald Bandit Knight, nor any of the orcs he’d fought in the Border Town. Not even the toughest of the Paladins he’d sparred with leading up to the battle had been able to match him blow for blow like Roka-Ra could.
 
The Dark General really was something else. She was strong, but more than strong, she was experienced. That was the edge she ultimately had over Marcus. He was powerful. He was strong. Being the Dark Lord or the Destined Hero or WHATEVER his Job really was, it gave him access to a seemingly endless well of energy. It made him unbelievably tough. Not unkillable though, he didn’t think. Not invincible either.
 
Roka-Ra wasn’t as strong as him, once he got his bearings. Which was a little funny to realize, because by the time he’d figured out what the hell he was doing and found his footing, the Dark General was easily twice the size she’d started at and standing a head taller than even him. It was a little startling, having an opponent towering over him for once, but Marcus hadn’t let that stop him. Power flowed through him and for all the people he KNEW he needed to protect; he’d made use of it.
 
And yet, Roka-Ra’s decades of fighting experience were not easily discounted. Even as they fought, Marcus could tell they were only so evenly matched because she’d been doing this for so much longer than he had. Give him just as many years as she had, and he truly would be unstoppable, or so he’d felt.
 
But then Roka-Ra had begun to flag, and that was where things got strange. Marcus had a good idea of what exhaustion looked like from all of those bouts in the sparring ring with the Paladins. Before those spars, most of his battles hadn’t lasted long enough for his enemies to even begin to get tired. But once Marcus wasn’t trying to kill anyone, and after Sir Bartholomew had asked him to do a few rounds of pure defense, he’d learned what true exhaustion really was.
 
Not first hand, mind you. He still hadn’t felt even remotely tired since he Awakened. But he’d seen it etched on the faces of many a Paladin as they struggled to lift their practice weapons, as their legs began to knock together in their greaves. He’d watched men and women collapse from exhaustion over the past few days, all because they couldn’t keep fighting him.
 
It wasn’t exhaustion that he’d seen in General Roka-Ra as she began to flag. It was something more like… confusion. Her actual face was obscured until the very end of the fight, but even if he couldn’t see her expression, he could read it in every line of her being. As they’d continued their duel, Roka-Ra had seemed to become more and more uncertain of herself.
 
Meanwhile, Marcus was the exact opposite. He became more and more certain that he had to win. He still didn’t fully understand what a Tah-Mak-Ah even WAS, but he’d been able to figure out some of it from context clues. Some kind of honor duel, probably orcish in nature seeing how all of the remaining orcish warriors had stopped fighting and even let the remnants of the Crusade regroup and heal themselves while he and Roka-Ra fought.
 
And then Marcus had won so suddenly that he didn’t fully understand what happened even now. A struck blow he’d thought she would block or dodge had somehow landed. He’d slashed Roka-Ra’s helm right off her head, just barely avoiding cleaving her skull in two in the process. Then, she’d surrendered. She’d even  ordered her troops to leave, to stand down. And they’d done so. The orcs had retired from the field, leaving the remains of the Crusade to pick up the pieces.
 
From there, Roka-Ra had been taken and put in chains. As far as Marcus knew, she was in a caged carriage in the much smaller caravan that they were currently part of, heading back to the Capital.
 
They’d stopped for the evening though, and that was where Marcus found himself now. Standing off to the side of the caravan, staring at that barely visible crack in his halberd. Why did Roka-Ra give up? Why did she slowly but surely stop fighting? She wasn’t physically tired. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other either. So why? What made her falter?
 
“Your Lordship.”
 
Marcus startles, as Erised all but materializes beside him. Or rather, Eris. Thankfully, she’s still wearing her Beastkin disguise. Even still, Marcus grimaces as he looks around to make sure no one was in earshot.
 
“Eris…”
 
He knows what he SHOULD say. He should demand she call him Master. They’re not remotely out of the woods yet. In fact, they’re going from the frying pan right back into the fire… because right now, they’re on their way back to the Capital to turn Roka-Ra over to the Church of the Most Holy Light for Divine Judgment. And of course, to be rewarded and publicly honored for their successful repulsion of the Orc Warband.
 
And yet, even now Marcus can’t bring himself to say it. He can’t bring himself to demand that Erised name him Master. In the end, he just sighs and gives her a look.
 
“… You did good work with the shamans.”
 
Erised bows her head at the praise, though she does not smile. Her eyes remain fixed on her feet as she speaks quietly.
 
“You were right to order their deaths Master. I wasn’t able to kill all of them but striking down the oldest among their number sent the others into a panicked, self-preserving retreat. If they’d still been a factor once you won the Tah-Mak-Ah, I’m not sure they would have allowed the rest of the Warband to retreat. They were close to victory after all. They were inches away from…”
 
She trails off, leaving the ‘killing us all’ bit unsaid. Snorting in wry amusement, Marcus shakes his head.
 
“Like I said, you did good work with the shamans.”
 
After all, he hadn’t thought about that at all at the time. He’d just known the shamans were being a big pain in their asses. Frankly, only after the fact had Marcus even realized how close they were to losing the entire battle. Sure, he’d won every fight he’d been a part of up to this point, but he was still only one man. Even if he’d killed HUNDREDS of orcs with his halberd alone… there had still been well over a thousand left by the time the retreat was called.
 
They’d gotten lucky, frankly. They’d gotten really lucky and-
 
“… I do not deserve your praise, my Lord. All of this was my fault.”
 
What? Marcus stops, looking at Erised in confusion as her words derail his thought process. His brow furrows and his lips curl into a frown.

 
“What are you talking about?”
 
Rather than answer him immediately, Erised looks out at the caravan they’re standing next to as well. Then, she takes him by the hand and leads him off a way, into the woods. Marcus lets her of course. He follows after the disguised demon as she draws him along. Eventually, Erised decides they’re far enough away, because she lets go of his hand, turns back to him… and drops to a knee, her head bowed in supplication.
 
“My Lord, this lowly one does not deserve to exist in your presence. Not after the way in which I betrayed you. This entire battle… was my doing.”
 
“Erised, stand up you don’t have to- I’m sorry, what?”
 
He’s reaching for her to pull her to her feet when he finally processes everything she just said. He freezes, staring down at the lithe kneeling demon in front of him, his mouth opening and closing rather stupidly. And to think, he’d thought he was past all of the earth-shattering, life-changing surprises. He really figured he was getting a handle on all of this. He’d even felt pretty good about meeting the Princess of all people.
 
But he’s been completely blindsided by… this. His hands come away from Erised and curl into fists as he crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t stop the kernel of anger from igniting in his core.
 
“… Explain.”
 
“Yes, your Lordship. I… I sent a letter. Immediately after the first orc attack. I sought to make the attacks cease. I sought to force the Dark General to stand down and make the other orc tribes stand down as well.”
 
Marcus slowly blinks at that, turning each word over in his head. So far that didn’t sound so bad. Erised was a demon. She had made no secret of the fact that she wanted Marcus and Roka-Ra to meet because she believed him to be the Dark Lord. The orc raid on Beth’s town had derailed that something fierce, so her sending a letter made some amount of sense. Except where it didn’t.
 
“You sent a letter.”
 
“… Yes my Lord.”
 
“… How?”
 
Finally, Erised looks up at him, a little confused.
 
“My Lord?”
 
Marcus just shakes his head, still struggling his way through the logistics.
 
“How the fuck did you send a letter to the Orc Dark General from a town that had just been attacked by orcs?”
 
Erised pauses for a moment and then blushes and hangs her head again.
 
“… I paid a courier an exorbitant amount of gold from my work before meeting you. He was to journey into the wildlands in the hopes that the letter, which was addressed to General Roka-Ra, would find its way into her hands.”
 
Considering that for a moment, Marcus grimaces. Gold did make the world go round… but honestly, he was shocked to hear that the man hadn’t just taken Erised’s letter and payment and fucked off somewhere else entirely. He also suspected he really didn’t want to know what ultimately happened to the courier, if this was truly the result of Roka-Ra receiving the letter as Erised seemed to believe.
 
Even still, Marcus felt like he was missing something. Like there was a question he should really be asking. When it hits him, he feels stupid for not asking earlier.
 
“Erised… what exactly was in the letter?”
 
Here, the disguised demon is silent for… far too long. He’s just starting to get upset when she finally answers him, not that her answer does much to calm him down.
 
“Everything, my Lord.”
 
Marcus’ blood freezes in his veins. Surely not.
 
“Excuse me? What does that mean?”
 
When Erised speaks again, her voice is clearly choked up. She’s on the verge of tears. And yet, it’s telling of the situation that for once, Marcus doesn’t immediately feel like he needs to go comfort her. He can’t. Not right now.
 
“I-I told her… I told her your t-true nature, your L-Lordship. And your t-true parentage. M-My mother always said that… that Dark Lord Gral-Ra and G-General Roka-Ra were c-close… that your m-mother gave Roka-Ra h-her name, even. I thought… I thought f-for sure once I explained t-that she would stand down!”
 
For a moment, Marcus is too shocked to be angry. He’s too damn bewildered to be enraged. But only for a moment. Then, it hits him all at once. Erised was right. She HAD betrayed him. He’d been so ready to tell her there was no betrayal, to soothe her and forgive her of… of almost anything. But he’d been wrong. Erised had crossed a line. A serious line.
 
“You put… the truth of my nature… in a fucking letter?”
 
Marcus didn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. Even… even the fury he’d felt towards the bandits for all their crimes hadn’t been this raw and powerful. Maybe because, while that was righteous fury, it was also a fury on behalf of innocent strangers he didn’t truly know. This though… this was fucking personal.
 
“My Lord, in hindsight, I recognize that I messed up. My betrayal is unforgiveable. I will accept any punishment you see fit and-!”
 
But Marcus is shaking his head.
 
“What if she still has the letter, Erised?! What if it falls into the wrong hands?!”
 
That was the last thing Marcus needed. A letter penned from Erised’s hand, detailing his true parentage and true Job. If it fell into the wrong hands, if the wrong eyes saw it, then it might all come crumbling down. He could end up fighting the very Empire he just risked his life to fucking save!
 
“She d-doesn’t, my Lord. At least not on her… I took the opportunity to check when they stripped her d-down for imprisonment.”
 
Setting aside the risk Erised took by doing so… that just meant the letter might still be in the wind somewhere. Though the more Marcus thinks about it, the less he thinks it would actually be believed. Who was the Church truly going to trust? The Holy Pope, who had identified him herself, or some letter? Even still…
 
“How could you do this, Erised?”
 
He hasn’t felt this sort of disappointment since before he Awakened. In fact, these last couple of months with his party have been like a dream. In spite of the horrors they’ve seen and the battles he’s had to fight… it’s honestly been kind of nice. He’s not sure if that’s his orc side talking, or simply the fact that he’s spent the vast majority of his life getting his ass both verbally and physically kicked for being Other. For being not entirely human.
 
And yet, here he is. Betrayed by one of the ‘good ones’. By someone he thought he could trust. Suddenly, the dream is over. And it’s been replaced by a fucking nightmare.
 
“I’m sorry, your Lordship. F-From the bottom of my heart, I apologize. If you wish my life, it is yours. If you wish to see me exiled, I will leave and never show my face before you again. B-But before all of that… please consider how the Tah-Mak-Ah with the General ended, I beg of you.”
 
Marcus blinks at that, thrown a little by both Erised’s offers and by her begging. He was angry, there was no doubt about that, but he didn’t want her DEAD. Nor… nor did he admittedly want her to leave him. Call him selfish, but he couldn’t imagine losing her now. Not to mention, even if he did exile her, he gave it a good coin’s toss chance that she’d just worm her way back in under a different identity, getting as close as she could get to him without him ‘seeing her face’ again.
 
He didn’t want that. But also…
 
“What are you talking about? She surrendered.”
 
“Yes, my Lord! She surrendered… she surrendered because she finally realized the truth! That you ARE the previous Dark Lord’s son… and that the contents of my letter might not be lies after all! She recognized Gral-Ra in you, your Lordship! She surrendered because she knows what I know… that you’re the Dark Lord!”
 
Marcus opens his mouth to immediately deny it, only to pause. After a moment he groans and palms his forehead. Oh Light. Erised is right. He hates it, but she’s right. All of the sudden, everything that had been bothering him about his and Roka-Ra’s duel comes crawling back into focus. She’d started out so furious, so fast, so strong. Like she was personally insulted by his very existence.
 
Perhaps because of a certain letter claiming such outrageous things about him and their connection to one another. Even still, he’d eventually managed to match her blow for blow. But it wasn’t exhaustion that began to slow her down. It was something else, something that Marcus hadn’t been able to put a name to. Until now.
 
Roka-Ra HAD recognized his mother, her former leader, in him. It was the only thing that made sense. She’d had the contents of Erised’s letter fresh in her mind, fueling her fury and pushing her to try and kill him. But that very same letter was like a poison in her thoughts. Making her doubt herself, until finally she apparently decided it was all true.
 
The Dark General had surrendered because she thought he was the Dark Lord. Fuck.
 
“Please, my Lord. They’ll kill her once we get to the Capital. Now is our chance… your chance, if you can no longer bear the sight of me! Send me away if you must… or better yet, use me to free her. I would gladly spend my life in service to the cause, your Lordship! Free the Dark General and flee the caravan. Rally the Forces of Darkness together with her by your side and take the fight to the Empire! This is an opportunity you cannot afford to let pass, my Lord!”
 
She’s still kneeling with her head down as she hisses the words. As such, she can’t see the look on Marcus’ face. Not until he reaches down and grabs her by the arms at long last, pulling her to her feet.
 
“No, Erised. I don’t want you dead. I don’t want you exiled. I forbid you to do anything without my express permission from this point on, is that understood?”
 
The disguised demon’s eyes are wide, her faux cat ears flat to her skull as she slowly nods to him. Marcus lets out a slow sigh, before opening his mouth to continue. However, he doesn’t get the chance.
 
“Marcus?”
 
The Princess’ voice suddenly echoes from a short distance away. As Elsenthia tries to make her way through the woods in search of him, Marcus looks into Erised’s eyes for a moment longer before jerking his head to the side and releasing his hold on her. Understanding immediately, Erised pulls back into the trees and is gone a moment later, just as Princess Elsenthia arrives.
 
“Ah, there you are, Sir Hero!”
 
Here he is…

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