Grimoires and Gunsmoke

Yzael studied the man before her intently. His features were unfamiliar, yet something about his presence sparked a distant memory.

The tone of his voice, as he started to speak, resonated within her, igniting a sense of recognition that she couldn't quite place. It wasn't a clear or concise memory. It was more like a shadow flickering at the edge of her consciousness, but it was still compelling enough to make her believe that this was the person she had been seeking.

“Wait… Aren’t you…?”

As the man’s words trailed off and he sunk into his own thoughts, Yzael's own mind began to race. “I believe that I am.” She said, looking back at Toivonen, who simply nodded as she stood there with her arms crossed.

Taking a step forward, Yzael extended her hand toward the man, her gesture one of both curiosity and diplomacy. "Yzael," she introduced herself simply, her voice carrying a melodic quality that seemed to resonate within the room.

The man, still battling with the fog of confusion, hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking her hand. He still had a deer in the headlights look, and the words were still stuck in his mouth, but Yzael didn’t seem to mind.

A soft smile spread across her face as she decided to lighten the mood a bit. "This is the standard greeting for the humans of this world, right?" she asked with a regal and inquisitive demeanor.

“Oh, shit-! I mean, I’m sorry, ma’am.” He said, squeezing her hand firmly and shaking it. “Lieutenant DuPont, Ma’am.” DuPont replied respectfully as he stood at attention.

Yzael's smile broadened, which caused her already radiant features to brighten after hearing Lieutenant DuPont's formal response. “Lieu… Lieuten… Mr. Dupont.” She let out a small, musical giggle, filling the room with a sense of warmth and ease. “Forgive me, I’m unable to pronounce that word yet.”

"But you don't have to be so formal with me, Mr. DuPont," Yzael continued with an amused tone. "Just a few months ago, I was nothing more than a mercenary with ill intentions, albeit one who was tricked into harboring them."’

Taken aback and unsure what to do, DuPont glanced briefly over her shoulder at the high-ranking officers in the back of the room, seeking guidance on how to proceed. However, he was only greeted with a stern and gruff look and Dupont’s eyes quickly landed on the part of the officer’s uniform that harbored his rank.

And he saw so many goddamn stars that he thought he saw a constellation.

Not only that, the officer's expression offered no clear direction, so DuPont turned back to Yzael, deciding to continue the conversation as normally as he could under the circumstances.

With his head spinning, DuPont decided to brave the dangerous waters he found himself in. "It's no problem at all, Ma’am." DuPont responded, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "And I must say, you're doing exceptionally well with the language, given how recently you must have started learning it."

Yzael's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. DuPont. I have been trying my best to adapt and understand your world better."

The room fell into a brief and awkward silence following the exchange and DuPont could feel the weight of so many eyes on him. And each of them could ruin his life with an errant thought. With the stakes so high, he became acutely aware of every move and sound someone made.

As the anticipation grew too much, DuPont opened his mouth to break the silence, but Yzael spoke up first. "You must be wondering why we have... well, I have called you here, yes?" Her voice softly rang out.

DuPont nodded, relieved that she had broached the subject furst. "Yes, ma'am.” He replied as the officers and officials behind the Elf looked at each other.

Momentarily shifting her gaze away from DuPont, Yzael’s eyes scanned the room and looked at the high-ranking officers and officials as a brief flicker of uncertainty crossed her face before turning back to DuPont. After a few moments, her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out as a strained and almost pained expression flashed across her face.

In an attempt to regain her composure, Yzael took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Mr. DuPont," she began, her voice slightly wavering, "I have a question that has been weighing on my mind since I arrived in your world."

The Lieutenant's expression turned attentive. He started to sense the next few questions would impact her heavily, so he needed to choose his words carefully.

"Are you... the one who saved my life?" Yzael asked, her voice barely above a whisper as her brilliant eyes searched his.

The question caught DuPont off guard, his mind racing back to the events that had transpired. He remembered a chaotic battle and the crazed werewolf-like monsters that rampaged through the streets of New Philadelphia.

"… Yes, I was part of the team that found you," DuPont finally responded, his voice steady but still cautious. “We found you wounded in the basement of a liquor store."

As Yzael listened, her expression remained neutral yet deeply contemplative. The acknowledgment of his role in her rescue seemed to prompt another line of inquiry and one that appeared to be crucial to her understanding of what took place.

After a brief pause, she continued her questioning, "Was there anyone else there with you during the rescue?” Her voice was steady but there was an undercurrent of urgency hidden within it. “A large man, perhaps…? Wearing a white and blue gambeson, with short dark brown hair and a short, full beard?"

DuPont's brows furrowed slightly as he recalled the scene. The memory of the battle was still fresh in his mind as vivid recalled the small kobolds and medieval-style footmen rushing their positions. One moment, his team was in control, mowing down waves of enemies at an intersection; the next, they were nearly overrun by crazed werewolves that tore through their ranks like a hot knife through butter.

No static position was safe, and they were forced into a position of constant retreat, despite the support from Bradleys and Abrams. Each enemy wave seemed to have a response to whatever they threw at them. One minute one of their tanks would obliterate an advancing enemy element, only to have some chuckle fuck with a stick knock them out or get a mobility kill.

"Ya, I saw a man fitting that description," DuPont said as he started to recall the specifics of that fateful day. "We engaged a couple of those werewolves, or beastmen if you will, that ran into the liquor store," he started, pointing towards Yzael. "That you were sheltering in."

Yzael nodded, encouraging him to continue. Her eyes held a mix of apprehension and a need for understanding, urging DuPont to reveal more about the events that had led to her rescue.

“Well, we managed to neutralize one of the creatures as it entered the store, but…” DuPont took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. “But the other one... it got away from us initially. We chased it to the back and that's when we heard a scuffle."

He paused for a moment, shifting his gaze around the room before continuing. "There was a man, fitting the description you gave," DuPont continued, "He was wrestling with the creature, trying to prevent it from getting into the basement."

It was subconscious, but Yzael hands slid to the hems of her coat and gripped tightly. Even as her face maintained a semblance of neutrality her eyes began to narrow as she braced herself for what she was about to learn.

"Continue…" Yzael said in a barely audible voice that was laden with an intensity that filled the room.

DuPont paused, observing the tension in her voice and body language. "The man... when we approached him, he was already badly hurt, barely conscious.” DuPont explained, his voice maintaining a professional and clinical tone.” But he pointed towards the basement door,"

Yzael's breath hitched slightly, her anticipation palpable.

"I didn’t understand his words, but his intention was clear. I'm pretty sure he was begging us to save you. His last act was to ensure your safety." DuPont continued, but when he opened his mouth to finish, the words hung in his mouth.

At that moment, a palpable shift occurred in Yzael's demeanor. Her grip on the coat tightened further, and the air around her seemed to thrum with a strange and arcane power. "You must tell me the fate of that man," she demanded with an uncharacteristic forcefulness.

Taken aback by the sudden intensity in her tone, DuPont hesitated. It was almost imperceptible, but he could sense something lingering in the air… something very old. There was a heavy silence, one that seemed to stretch on, as everyone waited for his response.

"Ma'am," DuPont began, his voice measured but tinged with a hint of caution, "after we eliminated the threat, we turned our attention to the man, but he had already expired.”

A hush fell over the room as the gravity of DuPont's words settled in. Yzael stood motionless, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions – grief, gratitude, and a profound sense of loss. Her hands slowly released the grip on her coat, and she took in a deep, steadying breath.

"I see," she said quietly.

Yzael nodded slowly, her gaze distant yet filled with a newfound resolve. "Thank you, Mr. DuPont, for sharing this with me.” She said before turning around to the litany of high ranking personnel behind her.

“I will tell and teach your scholars everything I know about the arcane," Yzael announced, her voice now carrying a tone of purpose. "I will teach them the principles of every spell I know, how I manipulate magic, and every ounce of experience I have gained over the two thousand years of my existence."

The room reacted with excitement as the officers and officials exchanged glances and started murmuring amongst themselves. The potential knowledge Yzael offered could be a game-changer in the ongoing conflict in terms of planning and mitigation.

"But," Yzael continued, her voice growing firmer, "I have one more request."

All eyes snapped to her as the room fell silent once more.

Toivonen, who had been observing the proceedings with a keen eye, stepped forward and nodded to indicate she was listening.

"I wish to find Gideon’s body and give him a proper sending," Yzael stated, her voice resonating with a deep respect and solemnity. "He deserves at least that much."

Toivonen turned to speak with a general in hushed whispers and after a brief exchange, she looked back at Yzael and nodded. "We will fulfill your request to the best of our ability," the intelligence officer assured her.

-

“I apologize for speaking out of turn Mistress… But I believe these attacks to be a distraction.”

In the lavishly decorated war chamber of the Seraphic Empire, Duchess Vyrrasha, a regal and imposing Dragonkin noblewoman that presided over the meeting in the heart of Aldenshore.

The Duchess boasted an exotic plumage of red feathers that covered her body and gave her a majestic and intimidating aura. Each feather seemed to shimmer with a life of its own that reflected her status and also represented the fiery nature of her spirit. And with that fiery spirit, came a fiery personality.

All of Vyrrasha’s advisors seem to flinch and shrink as her smoldering glare floated across the room as she slowly and deliberately turned her head. Her hateful gaze passed over each soul present, boring into the Sun elves, the feathered and scaled Dragonkin, and even the Humans that acted as her counsel. But it wasn’t until the Duchess’ eyes settled on an ashen colored female commander with ears as long as a High Elf, long powerful legs and a succubus-like tail that was signature among the Tauri tribes of the far south.

The Tauri woman’s long golden hair seemed to bounce as she looked down while her bright yellow pupils shook and pitch blackness of her sclera widened.

“Commander Sestri, I do not recall allowing such a lowly barbarian permission to speak." The Duchess hissed angrily as her clawed hands sunk deeply into the wood arms of her chair. “I’ll give you only one chance to explain yourself…

The Commander nearly jumped out her skin at the Duchess' words. She should have known better after seeing how livid she was about her peers' incompetence, but Sestri firmly believed there was a lot more at play than a mere probing attack.

"Y-Your Grace, Duchess Vyrrasha," Sestri began, her voice a smooth and deep voice seemed to reverberate throughout the chamber, "my intentions are not to overstep but to provide insight that may be critical to our strategy." Her eyes flickered up and down repeatedly as she maintained a lowered posture

Duchess Vyrrasha’s feathers bristled with barely contained rage, yet her interest was piqued. A noblewoman of her standing was not one to ignore potentially valuable intelligence, even if it came from an unexpected and traditionally less respected source.

"I-I believe…." Sestri continued, but hesitated briefly. " I believe that the recent attacks on Count Zirathral's border forts are not simply probing attacks to test our defenses but are part of a larger, more calculated effort a-and...”

Suddenly a loud crack rang out, interrupting Sestri’s words as Vyrrasha’s fiery eyes bore into the Tauri Commander.

"Enough of this dithering!!" Vyrrasha barked as the once grand arms of her regal chair snapped in half. The advisors flinched and sent their own glare at the barbarian as a low growl left their Duchess’ mouth. "Speak plainly, Commander Sestri, or I swear by the Ancestors I'll have you and your filthy tribe set to the flame!”

Sestri's heart raced, but she knew the importance of her observations. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Y-Your Grace!" Sestri started to speak hastily. "The attacks were too precise, too controlled! They weren't just testing our defenses; they were creating openings! And I suspect their true goal was to send small groups of scouts or harassers through these gaps to wreak havoc behind our lines, to distract and divide us further!”

As Commander Sestri spoke, a Sun Elf advisor stood tall with an air of arrogance that only centuries of life could imbue. His expensive and ornate robes were a cascade of fine silks, shimmering with the symbols of his esteemed position as he looked at the Tauri with contempt.

"Bah, what Nonsense! What evidence do you have to support such an outlandish claim?" he demanded, his eyes narrow slits of derision as he focused on Sestri. The War Council seemed to rally behind him, nodding and muttering in agreement, their disdain for the Tauri commander's theory apparent. “Lady Vyrrasha, with all due respect, I once again protest against letting this slave near your presence let alone speaking amongst those far above her slovenly station!!”

Sestri, feeling the pressure of the room's doubt and hostility, struggled to maintain her composure as her head snapped to each advisor with a look of horror on her face. Her voice trembled slightly, but her resolve did not waver. "The locations of the attacks! the manner of their execution! None of it makes sense for a mere probing attack!” she asserted.

Another member opened their mouth to give another verbal lashing when the Tauri spoke up louder to continue justifying her opinion. "The forts they targeted weren't strategically valuable! They were poorly positioned and even more poorly constructed!” Sestri marched forward and jabbed her finger onto the massive map that highlighted the location of every unit, every fortification and every supply route. “See!? They’re surrounded by dense forests that limit visibility and movement, and they’re too close to the Druid's Forest!”

“Besides, this is-” Sestri tried to get out one more point, but was interrupted by Vyrrasha.

“The very same ploy you and your damned people used against ME." Vyrrasha finished Sestri's sentence as her memory went back to the campaign to pacify the Tauri tribes and the Necropolis in that god forsaken desert.. causing an involuntary shiver to pass through the room. The Duchess's face was a mask of fury, her feathers practically standing on end as her piercing gaze swept over her council. "And that damned ignorant and arrogant fool Zirathral had more than likely let them through if you’re correct…”

Vyrrasha slammed her fist down onto the table, making several advisors flinch. "Korthax was a damned fool for putting him in charge of the vanguard, the idiot has left us too exposed, too vulnerable!" she spat out, her voice dripping with venom. "That buffoon allowed a mere probing attack to put three of our dragons out of commission, and an entire flight of wyverns killed…”

The Duchess's tirade continued unabated, her voice rising with each word. "And our so-called Emperor!" Vyrrasha bellowed, causing everyone in the room to stiffen, "A greedy, power-hungry tyrant, never satisfied and constantly reaching far beyond his means at the expense of others!" Her words were sharp as daggers, and the tension in the room was palpable as she cursed the Emperor's name, an act that made everyone look away, half in fear, half in disapproval.

She paced back and forth, her feathers flaring with each step. "I wouldn't be surprised if this was another one of his tricks to rid himself of anyone he deems troublesome," she hissed, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "The world would have been better off if the filthy half breed had been a stillborn."

A hushed gasp went through the room at the Duchess's blasphemous words. One of the Seraphic advisors, a tall, slender Sun Elf with a face etched in worry, finally spoke up, his voice meek but carrying a tone of reprimand. "Your Grace, that is too much... Please, consider the implications of such words."

Vyrrasha halted in her tirade, her chest heaving with each breath. She had been dragged out to the middle of nowhere to act as a figurehead, a Supreme Commander with no real power. They had set up the command structure with politics in mind, where her peers got to execute the defense of the outer territories however they wished, organizing themselves while leveraging her reputation and finances. Vyrrasha didn't even have the authority to prevent the infighting and was left to clean up the mess as Imperial armies even burned the villages and sometimes small towns of the vassal states.

Her role was a cruel joke, and she legitimately thought this was a means to kill her through political machinations while the incompetent enacted their own agendas under the guise of her command. Every victory was theirs, and every failure was hers to bear.

Her military acumen and years of command reduced to nothing but a title, paraded in front of the masses and the nobility alike.

“I want constant patrols screening us and those incompetent fools," Vyrrasha finally said with an almost defeated voice as she sank back into her chair, the remnants of her once grand armrests lying forgotten on the floor. “If Commander Sestri and the reporting from the expeditionary force were to be believed, then every patrol must maintain a minimum ten-meter spread and one mage in each squad.”

The Duchess then placed her clawed hand on her face to cover her eyes and heaved a depressed sigh.