The Soul Engine Ch. 45 (Original Fantasy) (Patreon)

A/N: Bula to the rescue!

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WHAM!

Just because Mikael has been completely taken by surprise doesn’t mean everyone else has. Before the vile, glowing green dagger can find purchase in his flesh, Bula’s wooden battle axe comes down HARD on the back of the helmeted knight’s head with enough force to not just shatter the practice weapon but also send the knight faceplanting into the ground.

However, while the dagger’s trajectory is forced straight down into the ground as well, the knight doesn’t let go of its handle, even after what should have been an incredibly disorienting blow. Mikael curses as he takes a step back, immediately recognizing his assailant for what it is. Unfortunately, he’s the only one at first.

“Take him down!”

Chevalier Ironshield’s order is completely fair based on what he knows, but not a good idea. Mikael immediately shoots out a hand, trying to stop the charge… but to no avail.

“No, wait-!”

As the other Knights of the Rose all rush forward, determined expressions on the faces of the ones without helmets, the knight on the ground comes up with a swiftness that shouldn’t have been possible after taking a blow like that from Bula. His dagger slashes out… and that corrosive green edge goes right through the golden armor of his opponents like butter, sinking into flesh and provoking screams as whatever vile enchantment is on the weapon proceeds to do its nasty work.

Mikael claps his hands together and summons as much power out of the Soul Engine as he can possibly spare. Sure, the enemy’s blade might be able to cut through his magic, but that didn’t mean anything if Mikael could just immobilize him. Bands of teal energy snap out from all angles, grabbing the helmeted ‘knight’ by his wrists and ankles and yanking his limbs taut. At the same time, a fifth band takes the form of a grasping hand, grabbing hold of the struggling man’s helmet from above and yanking upward viciously.

The snap of straps is heard as well as the crack of vertebrae as Mikael’s enthusiasm gets the better of him and he breaks their assailant’s neck in the process of exposing his identity. Not that it matters in the end. Milky eyes set in deathly pale skin stare back at Mikael as the helmet hovers over the undead’s head. One of Foss Sangrey’s, almost certainly. A former Summoned Hero, just like Mikael? Maybe, but he couldn’t say for sure.

What he can say for sure, as the undead struggles in a truly inhuman manner in Mikael’s grasp, is that this wasn’t a ploy from Nathaniel or his fellow knights. Not only are there two knights laying on the ground now, wisps of poison green energy rising from their wounds… but the looks of horror and disgust on the faces of the Chevalier and his men don’t have a hint of deception to them.

Bula, meanwhile, has run off to the side and Mikael snaps out his hand just in time to catch his actual sword as she throws it to him before picking up her battle axe. Face drawn and mouth in a thin line, he cautiously approaches the immobilized undead, wondering briefly if killing it right now is the right answer, or if there’s a reason to leave it alive. Maybe Avina can-

The sound of bells suddenly rings out throughout the Citadel. Mikael doesn’t have to be a Knight of the Rose to recognize what they mean either… those are distinctively alarm bells. And that means this isn’t a one-off event.

Mikael’s sword flashes out without another thought, relieving the undead of his head. As it goes rolling across the ground, Mikael is glad to see whatever necromantic magic reanimated the damn thing ended with decapitation, seeing as the body slumped in his magical grasp.

With that taken care of, he doesn’t hesitate to turn and sprint out of the courtyard, ignoring the cries of the Chevalier to his men to fan out and repel the invaders. The Citadel is under attack, that much is obvious… but it’s not Mikael’s job to defend it. His place is at Avina’s side, because he just knows the assassination attempt on him was merely an attack of opportunity. Avina is who the Supreme King really wants.

With Bula at his heels, they race through the Citadel, making exceptional time to the library. Mikael’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the large double doors that sat at the library’s entrance have been blown off their hinges and lay shattered in a hundred pieces. Are they too late? Has Avina already been taken?

Only, as he sprints into the library, Mikael finds himself skidding to a halt the moment he lays eyes on his dark-haired Soul Mechanic. Avina is still there, thankfully. And she’s also unharmed, surprisingly. Standing there in the middle of the library’s main hall, Avina looks around herself with her black lips pressed into a thin line. Around her are four more undead in stolen golden armor, all motionless at her feet and not a mark on Avina to boot.

Mikael is relieved… but also concerned, because his Soul Mechanic looks even paler than usual. She’s shaking slightly as she stares down at her hands with wide eyes.

“Avina? Are you alright?”

Her head snaps up and she immediately grimaces, quickly balling her hands into her fists and tucking them into her sides self-consciously.

“I… I’m fine. I took care of the problem, as you can see.”

She’s clearly not fine, but before Mikael can call her out on it, another voice rings out.

“You took care of part of the problem, Princess. That said, it does look like you bore the brunt of the assault.”

Turning to regard the Order of the Rose’s Grandmaster, Mikael’s eyes widen at the sight of Thayla and her father. Timothal and Thayla Dawnguard are unharmed, thankfully… but that does not mean they have not seen battle. The Knight-Superior’s chestplate is splattered with black ichor and Thayla looks stricken as she makes eye contact with Mikael for a moment before gazing down at the bodies Avina has created.

Avina, meanwhile, pales even further at Timothal’s words, her fisted hands trembling.

“How… how many? And how many dead?”

Looking down at Avina’s kills as well, Thayla’s father lets out a heavy sigh.

“Including these four? Twelve in total, it would seem. They struck as assassins. They were successful with six of their targets, all critical members of the Order’s leadership, their deaths clearly meant to destabilize us.”

Mikael jolts at that, his mind quickly doing the math. Twelve assassins. Four on Avina. One on him… and one on Timothal. Meaning six others. Meaning the only survivors of this targeted attack were standing in this room. Sure, between him as Avina’s successful project, Timothal as the Order’s Grandmaster, and Avina as the one Foss wanted most… they’d managed to blunt the Supreme King’s attack and rob him of his most desired targets. But even still, at least six were dead. Probably more, given the collateral damage that had happened even in the assassination attempt against Mikael.

“… Will they?”

It takes him a moment to realize he’s even spoken. Regarding him for a moment, the Knight-Superior shakes his head.

“The Order of the Rose will not be brought low so easily. But… it is good that I still live in order to make the transition smoother, I suppose. And even better that they failed against their true target.”

Avina flinches as Timothal turns back to her with those last two words. Looking around herself again, she sighs.

“Four for me. Because they wanted to take me alive. Because Foss still wants me returned to him, safe and sound.”

Face grave and drawn, tone solemn and low, Timothal nods his head in agreement.

“Indeed. Without the knowledge you all have shared with me, I could not say where this attack came from. But knowing what I know, the perpetrator is all too obvious. The Supreme King has sent his undead agents to try and decapitate the Order of the Rose while retrieving you in one fell swoop, Princess. By all rights, he can still pretend like these undead are not his. After all, nobody outside of this room, not in all of Ocreatha and Zuveria, knows him for the Necromancer he is.”

Grimacing, the Knight-Superior falls quiet as he considers the situation for a moment.

“… Tch. This changes things. This attack cannot go unanswered. I will contact the Imperial Seat at once and push for a meeting with the Emperor. Foss Sangrey must be stopped.”

Mikael likes the sound of that, he really does. But at the same time…

“How long will that take, precisely? We don’t exactly have time for letters, Knight-Superior.”

Shaking his head, Timothal smiles a grim smile.

“No, we do not. Fortunately, there are other ways.”

Mikael is just about to ask what those ‘other ways’ are when he gets his answer, albeit with it taking him a moment to realize it. All of the sudden, the Knight-Superior’s eyes begin to glow with golden light as he looks off into empty space. He’s quiet for a second, then begins to speak.

“Greetings, I request an audience with his Imperial Majesty immediately under the-!”

Whatever treaties or agreements or ancient rites the Knight-Superior was about to evoke never materialize. He suddenly cuts himself off, his glowing golden eyes going wide in shock. Mikael’s own eyes widen in shock when Timothal Dawnguard stumbles backwards a moment later, looking like he just took a blow to the chest.

“Father!”

For a moment, Mikael spins around as Thayla rushes to her father’s side, anticipating some sort of final assassin hiding from the shadows. But… there’s nothing. No one. As he looks back to the Order of the Rose’s Grandmaster, he doesn’t see any outward wound marring the man’s armored body as Thayla helps him into a nearby chair. And yet… Timothal looks destroyed.

“No… no that can’t be.”

There’s a pause as whoever is on the other end of this magical communication responds to the Knight-Superior. And then, finally… The ashen faced expression disappears underneath an avalanche of grim resolve and determination.

“I see. Yes, I understand. No. This will not go unanswered. You have my word. The Order of the Rose stands strong, even now. Yes, I am aware. Very well.”

And with that rapid exchange, the golden light fades and Timothal blinks once before looking at all of them. His face might have become a mask of resolve and steeled will, but Mikael can see in his eyes… he’s still shaken. For a moment, Mikael wonders what could possibly shaken such a man. He wonders if he really wants to know. But then… he doesn’t really have a choice in the end. Timothal is going to tell them all anyways.

“… It would seem that I greatly underestimated Foss Sangrey’s ambition. I assumed this latest attack was meant to give him plausible deniability. But I was wrong. He does not fear war with the Zuverian Empire. He is not biding his time. No, he intends to take Zuveria for himself. Right here, right now.”

Mikael blinks at the certainty in Timothal’s voice. He looks at his allies and sees all of them just as nonplussed by the Knight-Superior’s words as he is. Finally… Timothal tells them what he just learned.

“The Imperial Family is dead. The Emperor, the Empress, and all of their children. This attack on the Citadel was not an isolated one. The Supreme King sent his undead assassins all across the Empire. He had to have been moving them into position for weeks now… longer even then you lot have been at the Citadel. His efforts in the Capital have yielded full results with the death of the Imperial Family. And more than that… there are reports of his army marching out of Alether and into Zuveria.”

To his credit, Timothal Dawnguard rises from the chair his daughter has helped him into. He stands tall and does not give into despair, nor does he falter. In that moment, Mikael can’t help but see a true leader. The aura that the Knight-Superior seems to emanate is a heady thing. Mikael isn’t sure if it’s magic or simply just his personality shining through, but it’s quite impressive. The black ichor drying on his golden armor only adds to the effect as well.

“For the first time in centuries, Ocreatha and Zuveria are officially at war. And for the first time in living history… Ocreatha is in a position to conquer the Empire, given half the chance.”

Everyone jolts at that morbid estimation of their chances, but Timothal is already explaining himself.

“Zuveria will of course rush to respond. Even headless, even without an Imperial Family, the Empire’s Generals and armies are not so helpless that they cannot react to this terror attack on our soil. But… the response will be sluggish. If we had our armies positioned correctly, I would bet on Zuveria every time, even with Foss Sangrey’s Necromancy at work. However, with so much of the military tied up on our border with the Savage Lands, we are in no way prepared to weather an assault from Ocreatha.”

The Knight-Superior begins to pace back and forth across the wrecked library, barely stopping to kick one of the motionless undead out of his way with a booted foot before continuing on. His eyes dart back and forth in thought and it becomes obvious that he’s figuring out what to do in real time, talking out loud as much to himself as he is to all of them.

“In the end, despite the losses to our leadership, we of the Citadel and the Order of the Rose are the only ones who stand poised to lead a defensive charge against the Supreme King’s advance at this time. We are the only force of significant size in any position to do a thing. Without us to stand in the way, Foss Sangrey will be able to make a beeline to the Imperial Capital and take the city before any of the armies tied up with the Savage Lands can turn and respond.”

Here, Timothal stops and looks appropriately grave again, his eyes sweeping across all of them for a moment. When Mikael looks to his allies, he sees determination on their faces. A swell of pride rises in his chest. He feels the same way. They can’t back down. Of course, Timothal is a lot more honest about their chances.

“Needless to say, I don’t like our odds. We’re going to need reinforcements fast and Foss has masterfully cut off all of our normal avenues for aid. If I had died, even the Order would not have been in a position to do a thing about this attack. However… however, where the orthodox fails, the unorthodox must be explored.”

And then, much to Mikael’s confusion… the Knight-Superior turns to Bula of all people, making the half-orc stiffen up as he gives her a solemn, apologetic look.

“I’m sorry… but your people are our only hope.”

Wait, what?!

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A/N: Now THIS is a weekend cliffhanger. Fufufufu...

Anyways! What could Timothal mean?! Doesn't make much sense, does it? After all, Bula's people are all behind the Zuverian Army that the Knight-Superior just got done saying couldn't arrive in time to help. Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser...

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