The Mighty Axe of Crom

The chill in the air sent shivers down Captain Arminius’s spine. He couldn't hear them from the other side of the wall, the Emperors Legions stood shoulder to shoulder with cold discipline, with the only sounds coming from the feint barks of their commanding officers. What he wouldn't give to be able to jump up the cities walls for just a split second and catch a glimpse of Vellond's Legion of iron.

For Arminius this was a nightmare come true. He and his company were part of the renowned Royal guard, sent by his majesty: King Douglas of House Ufford, as a goodwill to the country folk and to show them the King's concern and plans to send out more guardsmen to the far off villages of Cartuga. When Arminius and his men returned to Rexfort, The capitol of Cartuga, Francois Hule had already overthrown House Ufford and taken the throne.

Most of the Royal Guard were either banished, murdered, or demoted to make way for the Churches lap dogs and boot licks. Before he knew it, all major locations in his beloved nation were overrun by inquisitors, flagellants, spies, and the arrogant noble houses of the Ecclesiarch itself.  People now feared him and his men, even though they did their best to maintain order amongst the natives of Cartuga and their vicious occupants.

With all that was happening, nobody thought that that dastard Francois Hule would loudly claim his loyalty to the Church and have Cartuga spearhead an invasion of our northern neighbours: Vellond. But the empires eyes and ears are everywhere in the lands of the pious, and before Cartuga's new found allies in the south could mobilize, the Imperial Legion had already marched into the country, personally led by the Butcher of Ardok himself.

Apparently unwilling to face the Legion on open grounds and on the defensive, Cartuga's so called allies left them for dead. Many of the more far flung regiments within the Royal Army refused to fight on Hule's behalf. Leaving only the false king's personal host, those loyal to his promises, and wandering lordless warriors from the south that had found their way here to fight Emperor Crom and his Legions.

“This is crazy...” The man behind Arminius muttered. “What are we even doing here? Tiberius-bloody- Crom is leading this assault personally...”

“Emperor Crom!?” Another soldier yelped. “For true!?”

“I hear he's stronger than a dragon, I did...” Another voice added.

“He's going to kill us all! Burn our souls and leave nothing but a shell!”

“Quiet, lads!” Arminius barked, his spear and shield aimed at the cities wood and ironclad gate. “Legends and tales or no, Crom is still just a man!”

Arminius tried to calm his men, though he believed many of the tales himself, he told himself differently. The man who butchered the churches finest at the cliffs of Ardok single handily. So many myths circulate this man that it became hard to tell which were true and which were not. Though many of them stuck out in his mind.

One such tale is that he's the reincarnation of the old demon lord, the one that ruled before the current overthrew him and transformed the monster race. Others say he's was destined to be the hero to stop the monsters entirely before he was consumed by anger and hate. Others say he's a powerful monster in disguise. If the last one is true then she's a very good actor.

“Shouldn't the archers be releasing by now?” A soldier asked.

“Its awfully quiet out there.” Another mentioned.

Arminius turned his gaze above to the captain commanding the walls. It seemed that the captain felt his eyes, turning his head to Arminius with uncertainty.

“Somethings wrong.” Arminius muttered, looking back to the gate.

He could hear it over the dreaded silence, the sounds of boots against the dirt. It wasn't marching of a cohort or the pushing of a battering ram. Just a single pair of boots, stepping closer and closer towards the gate of Rexfort.

“Whats going on up there!?” Arminius called out to the wall captain, who simply turned back to him again, his eyes wrought with fright.

The stepping finally stopped just outside of the gate and once again only the wind broke the endless silence. Suddenly, Arminius and the rest of his men jumped at the sudden, ear shattering slam against the gate. Followed by another, then another. He looked on in horror as the gate began to split between the two massive doors, the head of an axe poking through. The axe was pulled away effortlessly before dropping in between the large crack again, splitting the wooden brace like it was a twig. This was followed by another second of silence before the gate came crashing open, the two massive doors smashing into the side of the walls, the mighty hinges barely holding on.

Before marched a massive figure, a minotaurs axe rested on his shoulders. He stood many feet over everyone in Arminius's ranks, his muscles were of iron and his chest broad. His chest piece was articulated like armour from one of the ancient cultures, with human muscles sculpted into the metal. His face was concealed behind a helmet resembling an ogre from the old world, its eyes and mouth cut out to show only a black void of shadows to conceal his face. Even without seeing his eyes, Arminius could tell that he was glaring directly at him, a notion that pierced to the pits of his soul.

This man, this giant was Emperor Tiberius Crom, and the tales about him no way exaggerated him physically. This man crushed Cartuga's armies until only Rexfort still stood in a matter of days. Crom looked upon the defence standing before him, even with these men holding their ground the streets felt barren and void. He then turned around and looked upwards towards the archers, their arrows readied but none dared to loose.

“So.” The Emperors voice bellowed, the very sound sent Arminius's hairs on end. “This is the force Hule sent to hold the gates? Does he truly have such little faith in his own mission?”

Crom's gaze returned to Arminius “The mad king has sent you to die.” He stated clearly, a notion they knew all too well.

“Steady, lads!” Arminius finally managed to find the courage to speak. “Its just one man!”

“He's right.” Crom interjected. “Just. One. Man.”

The Emperor of Vellond stepped closer to the line of spears, now in striking distance of their weaponry, his axe still resting on his shoulders.

“But how many do you think have said those exact words before you?”

Arminius gulped, no longer able to find the courage to lead his men. Crom looked down at him, pulling his axe from his shoulders with one hand and letting it slam into the bricked road the soldiers stood on with a thunderous crash.

“Drop your weapons, and I promise you parley...”

Arminius licked his dry lips, his eyes darted in his head as he tried to come to a proper response. On one hand he was duty bound to fight, but on the other he had no loyalty to the House of Hule. Crom tore down the main line of defence with a few swings of his axe and came him on his own, no personal guard, no escort. If he wanted to kill Arminius and every last man in his command he would have already done so. Arminius's arms became heavy, his shield and spear dropping to each of his side. Finally, he sighed and released his grip, letting his weapon and shield fall to the ground.

His men followed in kind, dropping their weapons to the ground and stepping out of formation, soon the archers followed and with a motion with his axe, the army just a few yards out of the city began to march towards the gate. The main gate of Rexfort was taken without shedding a single drop of blood.

“I can't believe it actually worked.” Albrecht commented, dropping the eye piece from his only eye.

“You doubted it?” The blond Elven Mirilla asked.

“Well...” he said, rubbing the stubble on his scarred scalp. “I thought he would at least have to kill one of them.”

“He knew the gate defenders were just to buy time.” The third of the party, Agrippa added. “Loyal to House Ufford, they wouldn't put up much of a fight.”

Agrippa kicked the sides of his horse, hurrying the beast along. “Come on, he'll want us there.”

Agrippa's gaze turned to the east, spotting a familiar figure riding at full speed along the walls. It was the portly Ezekiel Shuram of House Shuram-Shuram riding frantically towards the Emperor with something or someone strapped to the rear of the horse.

“My Liege! My Liege!” Ezekiel cried, riding through the broken gates of Rexfort.

Crom turned his attention to Ezekiel, who nearly fell off his horse in a hurried mix of saluting and trying to assist the unconscious man off the horse.

“Calm yourself, Sir Shuram.” Crom ordered. “What has happened?”

“My Liege! It is your friend, my charge, sire!” Ezekiel cried out again. “Marcus is fading!”

Crom moved to the horses side, pulling Marcus from its back with a single hand and placing him on the ground, his eyes were closed and his breath was deep and heavy.
“He's alive.” Crom stated.

“Yes, sire.” Ezekiel gulped, catching his breath. “He retrieved the Whitegale, but I fear it might be too late...”

“The Legions will have this area occupied soon enough, have the Apothecary ready as soon as they can.” Crom ordered, Ezekiel nodded and saluted, running off towards the ranks of marching soldiers to find the doctors among the army.
--

“Marcus...” I heard the voice called out to me. My eyelids were heavy and my body was too tired to move.
“Marcus, wake up.” The voice called out again, though I tried to ignore it. I was too comfortable, too content in the darkness around me. Suddenly it became hard to breath, my nose was pinched shut, putting up a struggle before opening my mouth to breath.

I opened my eyes in surprise, finding Cleo sitting on top of me right away. She smiled and released her pinch on my nose.

“Morning, sleepy-head.” She said to me, leaning in for a tender kiss. I looked back at her with shock as her lips parted from mine.

“Cleo?” I asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean “What are you doing here?” She asked, poking me on the nose. “I live here.”

“H-here?” I stuttered, looking around. I was in my room, but how cold this be?

“Are you okay?” She asked me, her ear flicking on her head.

I gazed around the room, my bed had been repaired from my encounter with Mouse and her gang. I looked into my reflection in the mirror, the purple glow in my eyes had vanished. I looked back up at Cleo, who looked back at me with worry.

“I...I guess it was just a dream.” I told her, rubbing my head. I looked down at her claw on my chest, noticing a gold ring wrapped around her ring finger.

“Hey, where did you get that?” I asked her, pointing at her ring.

She raised her furry hand and looked at the claw, tilting her head before looking back at me. “You mean our wedding rings?”

“Wedd- We got married?” I asked her in disbelief.

“Jeez, you really had a bad dream, didn't you?” She asked me, leaning in for another kiss. “You proposed to me a year ago.”

“I...” I looked down at my own hand, a tan-line on my ring finger and a similar golden loop sitting on my night stand.
“It was so romantic.” She cooed whimsically, putting her paws up to her cheeks and wagging her tail. “The setting sun reflecting off the frozen lake~”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and sat up against the backboard of the bed. Cleo gave me one last quick kiss on the cheek before hopping off me and the bed.

“I'm going to go downstairs and make some breakfast, try to feel better.” She said, giving me a little wave before practically skipping out of the room and down the stairs.

“Married, huh?” I said to myself, picking up the golden ring and examining it. “Well, I guess this is something I asked for, wasn't it?”

Deciding not to question it, I put the ring on its proper finger and got out of bed, dressing myself in my usual attire before heading down the stairs.

I could hear humming from the kitchen and the distinct sound of something being mixed in a bowl, the hope of pancakes suddenly lifting my spirits. I took the time to examine my living room, the furniture was the same if not rearranged to a less tacky set up. Moving to my left and looking to the library beside the stairs nothing seemed to be out of place, with history books for studying on one end and works of fiction at the other. This was my home alright.

I stepped into the library, looking up and down the native books until I reached the very end, with a stack of paperbacks written in English.  'Captain America: Operation REBIRTH' sat as the first of a small collection of comic collections involving Weapon I in all his patriotic glory. Followed by a mix of other comics from different publishers and finally a Japanese Manga I picked up before I was brought to this world, ironically enough involving Monster Girls.

“Oh, by the way.” A new voice sprang up behind me. “That foreign chef that makes all those meat buns you like so much is supposed to be in town today, you want to go check it out?”

I span around, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of a familiar Lizard warrior whom I had a run-in with in a boxing ring. Abigail stood before me wearing nothing but a black tank top and a pair of panties. She was holding a bowl of mix in one hand and a whisk in the other, her scaly green tail swayed behind her calmly.

“I...C-Cleo?” I stuttered, trying to look behind her.

Abigail followed my gaze.
“Cleo's here?” She asked. “I could always add some more mix if we have company.

I peered down at her finger, spotting the ring that Cleo was wearing only a few minutes ago.

“I...” I mumbled, rubbing my head and leaning against the desk at the back of the room.

“Are you sure, you're okay?” Abigail asked with concern, stepping towards me and putting one of her palm against my forehead. “First that little mind lapse when you woke up and now this?”

“I'm...I'm fine.” I tried to reassure her, shaking my head and standing up straight. “Just having a rough morning is all.”
“Well, if you say so.” Abigail submitted. “You want to help me make breakfast?”

“Y...Yeah, I'd like that.”

Abigail gave me a warm smile, turning around and leading me into the kitchen.

--

The Apothecary held Marcus's eye open with one of his hands, his pupil moving back and forth rapidly.

“He's dreaming.” The Apothecary stated. “On the bright side, his heart rate seemed to slow down which means I have more time to work on the cure.”

“How long does he have?” Crom asked, standing at enough distance to give the physician room to work.

“My Emperor. Demonic Poisoning is a serious condition.” The Apothecary stated. “He may have anywhere from a few hours to a few more days.”

“Do you have everything you need!?” Ezekiel barked up. “Can you make the cure!?”

“I have almost everything.” The Apothecary stated. “Whitegale pedal, Red Myrtle, Mandrake, crows eye, and high concentrate alcohol.”

“So, what are you missing?” Asked Crom.

“I'm missing Metatron root.”

“Metatron root?” Ezekiel asked. “As in the stuff the church grows?”

“Indeed.” The Apothecary confirmed. “It only grows in the heart of the Ecclesiarch heartlands. But there are bound to be Clerics in this city, those despicable jokes of so-called healers.”

“Luckily for Marcus.” Emperor Crom spoke. “The cities abbey was built a few weeks before we arrived. And it just so happens to be a key location for our advance further into the city.”

“Then I!” Ezekiel pounded his chest. “Sir Ezekiel Shuram of House Shuram-Shuram! Shall volunteer for this daring operation! Marcus was my charge, and I shall not see him suffer a fate as horrible as becoming a husk!”

Emperor Crom simply nodded, turning around and stepping out of the Apothecary's self claimed chamber.

“I will leave the attack to you and the other three.” Crom ordered Ezekiel, who was following closely behind him. “The other generals are already mounting a line against the Church's counter attack.”

“I shan't fail you, my Liege!” Ezekiel boasted, pulling his halberd from the wall.

“Make no mistake, Sir Shuram.” Emperor Crom spoke up again. “Cartuga was barely Ecclesiarchy territory as it was. They will do all they can to fortify the rest of the city...”

“Aye.” Ezekiel acknowledged. “And I shall cut down all who oppose you and the Empire!”

“Then I will leave the rest to you.” Emperor Crom said with a nod, pulling his axe from the spot he hand left it and hoisting it on his shoulders. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a war to win...”

Ezekiel's march led him right to three others waiting for him near the wall. The four together were known far and wide amongst Vellond and its subjugated countries, simply as the four.

Reinhard Albrecht, Vellond native and general to the Imperial Legions. His combat prowess matches his ability to command which has had him hand picked for dangerous operations and difficult tasks. He is known far and wide for his shaved head, missing left eye, massive sword, and distinct mountain folk accent.

Camus Agrippa, native to the country of Reinoch. Once a mighty empire that covered the lands, Reinoch fell to foreign aggression, inner squabbles, and the hedonist apathy of its nobility. Its people once again found its pride under the banner of Vellond when the Emperor subjugated the land and rearmed its populace. Agrippa dawns the armour and weapons of its people, a short sword in one hand and a tower shield in the other. The youngest of the four, Agrippa has proven himself in many battlefields and commanding roles.

And the Elf: Mirilla. Her people have long lived in harmony with the forests of eastern Vellond. Mirilla has prowled the planet for hundreds of years, having only one husband in her lifespan. An expert archer and a disciplined warrior, Mirilla is one of the few elves that can calm the Succubus blood that courses through her veins. Though it is rumoured that her loyalty and  inner peace comes for her love for Tiberius himself, though she has never said yes or no to the question.

“Where to?” Agrippa asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“There is an abbey not far from here. The Church's Clerics are using it as a hospital of sorts.” Ezekiel explained. “We are to take it and whatever resources it holds inside.”

“Simple, I like that.” Albrecht joked, giving his blade one last swipe with his whetstone.

“If Clerics call that place home.” Mirilla added. “Then there are bound to be inquisitors as well.”

The group went silent, they've all seen enough of the Inquisitors handy-work that the very idea made them feel sick.

“If there are any Inquisitors still stupid enough to show their faces here.” Albrecht declared. “I'll put them down before they can even utter an excuse.”

“So we head to the abbey, then?” Agrippa asked, checking his blade one last time before putting it back in its scabbard.

“There is no time to waste. Not only is it vital, but my charge, Marcus, needs Metatron root as soon as possible!” Ezekiel explained, resting his Halberd on one of his shoulders.

“Then what are we waiting for, friends?” Albrecht laughed. “Let us go make paste of some tome humpers, yes?”
--
I stepped outside, looking up into the blue sky, the morning was one hell of a trip, but I at least felt better after a good breakfast.

“Ready to go?” A new voice asked me. My vision dropped to the ground, spotting Lupa standing in front of me with a wide smile.

“Lupa?” I asked with a raised brow. Her tail wagged back and forth in excitement.

“What?” She asked me, her wolf ears twitching. “Is there something on my face?”

“N-..No.” I shook my head, rubbing my middle finger and thumb against my eyes. “Just a little drowsy is all.”

Lupa hopped up the stairs, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Come on.” She laughed. “My cooking is getting better, isn't it?”

“No, its not that, breakfast was great.” I chuckled. “I must be losing it...”

“No going crazy on my watch!” Lupa joked, releasing her lock from around my neck and stepping beside me, her arms wrapped around my left arm and we made our way down the hill.

She seemed calmer, less giddy than she was when I met her. She was wearing a beige turtle neck rather than the piece of cloth she used to cover herself last time. She also seemed less restrained, her grip around my arm was rather tight and intimate.

“Do you want to go to the market first?” Lupa asked. “Wouldn't want him to sell out on the meat buns.”

“Oh, uh. Sure.” I responded with a smile.

--

“Third Cohort is dealing with whatever this district can throw at them.” Mirilla informed the other three, her arrow already drawn to her bow.

The abbey was just across the street, there didn't seem to be much of resistance from here to there. The streets were barren of any kind of life, not even a rat would dare show itself.

“Think its a trap?” Agrippa asked, his shield up front.

“Its usually a trap.” Albrecht added. “When is it not a trap?”

“Hold on, I see him...” Mirilla cut in to the two, drawing her bow string back and releasing an arrow.

The arrow soared through the air, shattering the lower right of a window of the building across the street and piercing the neck of whoever was inside.
“Gentleman was carrying a crossbow.” Mirilla stated. “Must have been left behind to secure the street.”

“Hear anything else with those pointy ears of yours?” Albrecht asked.

“Not but cats and the wind.” Said Mirilla, drawing another arrow for the string of her bow.

“We're losing time, lets move.” Ezekiel ordered, running off ahead with the rest in tow.

The Abbey was dead silent, though there were no signs of evacuation or fortifications. Just another part of the city that what was left of the kings grand army didn't have enough manpower to reinforce. Mirilla placed her ear against the massive front door of the abbey, closing her eyes and listening carefully.

“I can hear breathing.” She stated. “And rather panicky heartbeats.”

Albrecht banged sternly on the front door, his gauntlet smashing dents into the wood. “Open up!” he commanded, never ceasing his banging.

“We can smell you!” He added. “Open up now or this is going to get real violent real quick!”

His threats were met with a constant prattle of argumentative whispers coming from the other side of the door, followed by the distinct sounds of struggling and then the locks and braces on the door being released. Albrecht kicked the door open with little hesitation, receiving the frightened howls of a priest as the door slammed into him, sending him on to his rear.

The four stepped inside, their eyes scanning over the inhabitants of the abbey. At least twelve men stood in the Narthex, with eight more visible in the church itself. Their boots made a loud and intimidating thud with each step, with no regard for the mud on their soles.

“Heathens!” An older man bellowed, approaching the four with  a religious symbol in hand. “You dare desecrate a place of worship such as thi-”

The man was cut off, Agrippa having grabbed on to his wrist and yanked it up into the air. The holy mans sleeve fell to his bicep, revealing the tattoo of an X with two winged snakes crisscrossing between it.

“You forsook your disguise, Inquisitor.” Agrippa growled, tossing the man back against the wall.

“What a waste...” Ezekiel lamented, looking into the clean and rich surroundings of a newly built abbey. “To think the Ecclesiarch was once a force that all men could band under.”

“Aye, I remember those days.” Mirilla added. “A short period of my life, I was still but a child.”

“Please, sirs.” Another man begged, stepping forward with his hands locked together as if to pray. “We are but men of the cloth. We have no business with Cartuga and her war.”

“If only it was ever that simple.” Said Ezekiel stepping through the Narthex and into the church itself.

There were twenty two men in total, thirteen of them were clerics with one priest and the rest were most likely Inquisitors. There were no signs of the sick or inhabitants seeking asylum within the abbeys walls.

“Whatever we need, we'll find in the kitchen and storehouses.” Said Ezekiel, resting his halberds end against the ground.

“I'll take a look.” Mirilla volunteered, running off past the podium and towards the back rooms.

“This is blasphemous!” The same man from before barked. “Surely you will burn in hell!”

“IF you haven't noticed, Inquisitor...” Albrecht piped up, lifting his massive sword towards the Inquisitors neck. “its your precious church and its Crusaders that started this war.”

Albrecht moved his blade closer to the Inquisitors neck, the steel pressed against his throat. “You're already on thin ice...I suggest you behave.”

Mirilla returned moments later, a root in hand and a look of dread on her face. She hopped down from the podium and approached Ezekiel, handing him the white root with gold tips.

“Metatron root!” Ezekiel guffawed happily. “Good, good! There is still hope!”

“Sir Shuram...” Mirilla breathed bitterly. “I...Heard something from bellow...”

Ezekiel narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly. “Well, what is it, lass?”

She beckoned the three along, hopping back up the podium. The team followed closely behind, with the father of the abbey shadowing their steps.

“Good sir, please!” he begged. “There is no need to investigate any further! It is just the hollow of the church, it can play tricks on your ears!”

Ezekiel turned around, his gaze piercing the priests soul. He was sweating and nervous, his hands wringing together endlessly.

Mirilla led them to a wall of bricks formed under a very articulated part of the wall, like some of the entryways they had already passed through. She stepped aside and pointed at the bricks, Ezekiel taking the hint and using the hammer of his halberd to smash it down brick by brick. The three were suddenly met by a wave of stench coming from the black bellow, a pair of stairs leading into a cellar that was cut off.

Ezekiel looked back at the priest once more, who was practically ready to turn and run away. He found a lantern on the nearby table, lighting it before the three descended into the void of darkness. Agrippa fought the urge to vomit as the stench became stronger at the end of the long staircase. Ezekiel, Albrecht, and Agrippa were greeted by the silent sounds of coughing and sobbing coming from the darkness, the sounds Mirilla's elven ears picked up from atop the stairs.

With the lanterns flame, they began to light the nearby torches, greeted by sights of shattering horror. Torture devices of all kinds decorated the walls, from the iron cased boot to a torture rack to a guided cradle. Tools such as pliers and scalpels sat on a bench nearby, matted in old blood.

“What the hell is this?” Albrecht growled, stepping in circles in the centre of the room.

Ezekiel hesitantly followed the sounds of sobbing and cries of pain, holding his lantern out in front of him until he was met with the sight of cages stacked atop one another at the back of the room. Another step closer revealed the inhabitants inside, many of them dead and decomposing. He trailed his lantern from left to right, looking on in horror at those still alive.

The cages were barely big enough to hold one person, but some were even stacked with two inside. Human and monster alike littered these wretched prisons, cradled up into balls or holding one another in some vain attempt of comfort. One in particular held a man with his eyes gouged, his captors not even having the decency to bandage the bloody gaps in his skull. He held tight to a wererabbit in his arms, her legs battered and broken, twisted in horrific angles. He stroked her ears gently, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow.

“Lads...” Ezekiel gagged, stepping back from the cages. “Lads! Here, quickly!”

The three charged to Ezekiel's side, each one of them frozen in abhorrence at the sight before them. Mirilla gasped and covered her mouths, doing her best to withhold the tears from her eyes.

Albrecht ground his teeth, turning to the priest who had followed them down the steps. He grabbed the man of cloth by the throat and lifted him into the air, smashing his body against one of the support pillars in the centre of the room.

“Explain yourself, cur...” The Vellond man snarled, baring his teeth. “Before I decorate these walls with your innards...”

“T-They are l-l-lost souls, sire!” The priest stuttered. “Th-they required re-re-re-redemption through fire!”

“Redemption!?” Albrecht roared in shock. “This is torture! This is sick!”

By now the other three had already began prying the gates open with their weapons, not wanting to waste the time to find the keys.

“We need apothecaries here right away!” Agrippa stated. “Some of these poor souls can be saved. Ezekiel! Help me with this o-”

Agrippa stopped, looking over at the knelt Ezekiel, cradling something in his arms. “...Zeke?”

“You poor child...” Ezekiel sobbed, on Agrippa's further inspection he saw what Ezekiel was holding. A small lamia child, no older than four  was cradled in his arms, her eyes lifeless and her body battered and bruised.

“You poor, poor child.” He continued to sob. “Who did this to you!? Who could do this to a child!?”

“Zeke...” Agrippa gulped, his hands hovering over his comrades shoulder, unsure of what to do.

“No, no no, NO!” Ezekiel roared a ferocious roar, his eyes filled with a madness not seen in a man of his stoic and heart. “I will kill every last one of you!”

Mirilla's ears suddenly perked, her head turning towards the stairs. “We have company!”

“Flagellants?” Agrippa asked, drawing his blade.

“No. I hear armour clinking. Seems we have a real fight on our hands.”

“Good.” Ezekiel gently placed the body of the little girl on the ground, standing to his feet and lifting his halberd to both hands. “Let them come. We shall see who has the mettle to kill House Shuram-Shuram's first born!”
--

I could hear Moriko's screech of frustration before I even opened the door. She was standing in the middle of the living room, rubbing her hands through her hair and tanuki ears, cursing and shouting in Zipangu.

“Jeez, rough day?” I asked her, closing the door behind me and kicking my boots off.

Moriko twisted her body towards me, her lips pouted and her brows furrowed.

“This is all your fault.” She complained, turning her back to me and crossing her arms, her tail swishing back and forth restlessly. “I try to be an honest merchant, try to make fair trades, and what? So some fat noble can try to con me out of some high grade silk for wool rug prices? And he calls me a swindler! Me! A swindler!”

I couldn't help but smile, hopping over the couch before moving in behind her. I wrapped my arms around her chest and did my best to calm her.

“C'mon, its not that bad.” I tried to reason. “I made some pretty good money in the last couple days. Its not like we're going hungry.”

Moriko sighed, bringing her hands up to my wrists as we did a little dance back and forth in place.
“You're lucky you're so cute...” She muttered.

I laughed and kissed her on the top of her head, between the ears.
“I'll go make you some noodles, that always cheers you up.”

Moriko's hand trailed against my arm as I released my hold, leaving her to think in the living room. I rummaged through the drawers to find the pasta before I lit the stove, enjoying the silence of the house after a long day in the streets of Bouceroc. Wolfgang had some troubles with a new gang of bandits that formed just north from the town, and hired me on the with the rest of the away team to make sure the scramble doesn't get too gruesome for our side.

Its hard work, the violence can get to a man real quick. There's always a chance that you won't be coming home by the time the sun is setting. I've brought myself to only work locally, not wanting to leave Moriko alone for too long. She gave up her life as a travelling merchant, wanting rather to live life with me here than have us travel to here and there for sometimes pittance pay.

I remember proposing to her a few weeks into my contract with her. We had already been seeing one another for some time, and at first I thought I would grow tired of being around her all the time when she hired me on as a caravan guard. Though every passing moment I just fell more in love with her, until finally I built up the courage to propose in an inn off the coast of Zipangu. Ever since then we returned to Bouceroc, taking on jobs from the town council and the city guard while Moriko opened a rather successful business in town.

“Hey Mark?” Mouse peaked around the corner. “We still have milk to go with those cookies, right?”

I looked over at Mouse before looking down at the strings of noodles I had prepared to put in the water.

“Cookies...Your favourite...R-right.” I laughed, taking the pot from the stove and blowing out the fire. “What was I thinking?”

Mouse giggled before disappearing around the corner. I leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at my own, callused and scarred hands. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong, I was just thinking about Moriko a moment ago, wasn't I?

Mouse came back to my place a few weeks after our little...Incident. She was relieved that I was alright but still wanted to make amends. She swore service to me as a maid, which she did a lot of pleading for until I accepted. Day after day I came home to a clean house, a made bed, folded clothing, and a wererat in a maid outfit. One of hers, mind you...

Though her cooking was terrible at first, she went out of her way to improve from awful, to edible, to actually pretty great. She always greeted me when I got home and did her best to look after me when I was sick or injured. Though not once did I ever make the impression that this was some sort of kink for me. I never threw myself on her and the times when things...Did happen, it was out of mutuality.

And when I finally realized that she became a very important part of my life, I had already fallen for her. And when the day came that she put the maid outfit away, I had already put the ring on her finger.

“Here you go.” I said while placing the plate of cookies on the table, along with the cup of milk.

“Thank you...” She sniffled, blowing her nose into the rag again before helping herself to the plate. Mouse was bundled up in every blanket in the house, her nose wiggling before every sneeze.

“Dang winter cold...” She complained, wiping her nose again. “Get it every year.”

“Don't sweat it, just take it easy.” I told her, rubbing her behind her ear.

“You didn't get hurt today, did you?” She asked me, looking up with concern.”

“Got a boot to the chest, but I'm fine.” I assured her. “They always seem to panic once they have to get into an actual fight. I think they were expecting pushovers.”

“Good thing you were there, then.” Mouse said with a smile, taking another bite from her cookie.

“Well, you know Wolfgang. Guy doesn't hire pushovers, even in his garrison.”

“ I'm glad you're safe.” Mouse sighed, resting her head against my shoulder. “I always worry when you have to do dangerous work.”

I held Mouse close and looked out the window, sighing contently before stealing a cookie off her plate.
“I'm not going anywhere.”
--
The districts was alight with the sounds of battle, a path of crimson and corpses led straight to the fighting. Ezekiel charged through his foes like a whirlwind of steel and wrath.

“Honourless dogs!” He roared, his weapon tearing into armour and flesh as if it were paper. “Do you even have an ounce of humanity left in your blood!?”

“I've never seen Ezekiel so furious.” Agrippa stated in disbelief. The three struggled to keep up with their comrade, his constant offence completely destroyed any chance of an enemy counter attack.

“You swines! You curs! You wretched barbarians!” His insults filled the ears of all still alive to hear them, the streets were bathed in the blood of men.

When a cohort of the Legions men finally arrived, the so called “Crusaders” cut their losses and fell back, leaving their dead and wounded lying where they were slain.

“Cowards!” Ezekiel bellowed, his gore drenched halberd in hand. “Come back and fight me!”

“Ezekiel!” Mirilla cried, throwing herself in front of him to stop his charge.

The other two joined in the struggle to stop his advance, Ezekiel was overcome with rage, his body stained with blood and his teeth brought to bare.

“Sir Shuram, calm yourself!” Albrecht commanded, his arm wrapped around the much shorter mans neck. “Save your wrath for the battles ahead!”

Ezekiel halted and caught his breath. He pulled the glove from his hand and did his best to wipe the blood from his face.

“Forgive me.” He apologized. “I lost myself in it all.”

“No one blames you, Sir Shuram.” Albrecht patted him on the shoulder. “But we need you focused. The apothecaries still need that root”.

“Right, yes...” Ezekiel took another deep breath. “Yes of course...But what of the rats within the abbeys walls?”

“I will handle it.” Albrecht assured him. “You three need to head back to the gate.”

Ezekiel was frozen, staring at the ground before him before snapping back at Albrecht with a nod. He ran off with Agrippa and Mirilla right behind him, leaving Albrecht alone with the cohort.

“Y-you can't do this!” The priest shouted from the other side of the hole leading into the cellar.

Very little light touched those stairs as men of the Legion continued to block it off with bricks.

“I assure you, there were much worse punishments I could think of.” Albrecht told the men, watching on as his soldiers blocked off the entrance to the cellar. “But this will suffice.”

The priests face began to distort from terror to unbridled anger, practically slobbering his words like a rabid dog.
“Heathens! Heretics! Blasphemers! I will watch in joy from my pillar above as you burn in the pits of hell!”  He bellowed as the finally brick was placed.

“I'm sure you will.” Albrecht muttered, turning away from the blocked entrance way and back to the church area.

The pews were moved aside in favour for cots and bed spreads, Apothecaries of the 3rd Legion having been called in to do their best with the wounded. Many of them had already been given food, water, and treatment for their terrible wounds, though the damage had already been done.

“General Albrecht!” A Legionnaire came running, saluting Albrecht and standing to attention.

“What is it, son?” Albrecht asked, his hand at his side.

“Its one of the victims, sir.” said the Legionnaire with a nod. “He carries the brand of House Ufford.”

--

The Apothecary leaned Marcus's head back, opening his mouth and slowly pouring the concoction down his throat. The patient coughed but seemed to swallow it without issue.

“Will he be alright?” Ezekiel asked.

“Maybe. Hopefully. He had some episodes while you were gone, mumbling to himself, cold sweats, what looked like night terrors. Now all that's left is that he pulls through himself.”

Ezekiel sighed and sat down, running his hand through his blood caked hair.

“If you still have energy left, sir Shuram.” The Apothecary noted. “Emperor Crom will be advancing on the royal palace in a short while.

The knight sighed and nodded, getting back to his feet.

“Yes, yes. Of course.” He muttered. “A knights duty is never done...”
--
The Cartuga conflict was described as an absolute slaughter by scribe Janek of Bowlder, who witnessed each battle under the command of Emperor Crom first hand. With the news of Crom's incursion into Cartuga territory after the news of their planned invasion of Vellond, many of Cartuga's so called allies under the church withdrew their support for the eventual crusade, leaving King Hule with nothing but what was left of the military after the coup and some of the more fanatical elements of Ecclesiarch territory.

House Hule's coup was supported by very little of the Cartugan natives, relying rather on his own loyal men at arms and several factors from the Church itself such as assassins and Inquisitor hosts. It was on the Ecclesiarch behalf that Hule was even able to take the throne from his cousin. Expecting military support from his neighbours and new found “friends”, Hule called upon the support of the Ecclesiarch himself to declare a crusade against Vellond and “Retake rightful holy grounds”.

But many nations were unwilling to fight a fully mobilized Vellond who was also on the offensive, something believed only possible with armies of the Ecclesiarchy core lands who are known for their more professional and experience in the ways of war.

When news reached the ears of Cartuga's armies of Vellond's first victories in the north, many elements still loyal to House Ufford rebelled or disbanded against Hule's rule, leaving many towns and cities almost completely undefended. Some key locations such as the City of Eland simply opened their gates and welcomed the Legions as liberators.

Vellond's military is known throughout the world as disciplined, mighty, and made of iron. One of the key factors to the church's aggression to Tiberius Crom's rule is that he has no issues with recruiting monster kin into his ranks. Elves, Minotaurs, and Lizardmen are native to Vellond's homeland, many of them leaving their old ways behind in favour of a civilization that treats them as citizens.

“Service Guarantees Citizenship” is one of the core slogans of Vellond, with paperwork for citizenship taking anywhere from a month to a year to fulfil. Many immigrants and migrating Monsters coming to Vellond enlist in the army right away to ensure themselves (and their families) a paying wage and the right to purchase property within Vellond's boarders.

Many Amazon's, Succubus by nature, took Crom's offer of citizenship in return for military service after the Amazon wars twenty years prior, in face of banishment. Monsters are spread out between towns and cities and sometimes smaller settlements to ensure not to attract Dark Matter of any kind. Though even if Dark Matter does appear above a Vellond settlement, there are counter measures in place to provide security to the citizens of Vellond.

Tiberius Crom has been known as the man “Who wages war against both god and devil”. Crom has proclaimed his disdain for both the Church and the Demon realm as a whole, claiming them to be “Unjust fanatics and shameless hedonists” as a whole. Vellond is considered an enemy of the church as a full, a title they wear proudly as a badge, and it has been said that the demon lord has tried both to seduce the mighty Emperor or assassinate him through one of her many agents, though both have come out unsuccessful over the years. His stature and physical might are both unexplained and inhuman, spreading many rumours such as being the reincarnation of the old demon lord.

The defence of Rexfort was a military disaster as a whole, many of the army elements still loyal to Ufford surrendered to Imperial forces before fighting even began, some even turncoat and attacked their Ecclesiarchy counterparts mid battle. This mixed with Imperial tactics and formations in such enclosed spaces made them literal walls of swords, the whip scarred Flagellants and delusional crusaders had no hope of overcoming the Vellond war machine and most of the city was taken before dusk.

Now only the royal palace remains, once a beacon for the Cartugan people, now a strong hold for a mad king and his unbridled obsession with his faith. An entire Legion stands outside the palace and through the streets with what was left of Hule's army to oppose them.

“Surprising they haven't tried to attack us.” General Haddock stated. “They haven't really been ones for defence for this war...”

“Perhaps they learned they're lesson.” Tiberius added. “Or perhaps they believe they have a trick up their sleeves.”

“My Liege!” Ezekiel shouted out, pushing through the ranks and to Tiberius's side.

“Hello, Sir Shuram.” Tiberius greeted him. “You look like hell.”

“Things...Happened at the abbey, sir. Not for the best.”

“Understandable. Did you find the root?”

“Yes, my Liege.” Ezekiel confirmed.

“Good. Now to the task at hand.”

The opposing forces suddenly erupting into cheering, stamping their feet and banging their shields. The centre lines parted ways, shouts of the hero coming to slay the tyrant emperor filled the ears of the Imperial Legions.

Crom stood in silence, the pommel of his axe resting against the bricks below. The churches army parted ways for their so called hero. The Legion began to look at one another in confusion as a small boy, no older than eleven, marched through their ranks. He was carrying a shield carrying the crest of their god, and a short sword in his right hand. Atop his brown hair was a circlet with a blue jewel in a centre, and he was wearing light cotton clothing rather than any sort of armour or protection.

“Tyrant Crom!” he shouted, his sword beginning to glow with a blue flame as he aimed it towards Tiberius. “I, Obiten the Blessed! Challenge you to single combat!”

“They can't be serious...” General Haddock muttered to Ezekiel.

“Are you truly so surprised, General?”

Tiberius pulled his axe from the ground and rested it on his shoulders, leaving his armies ranks to join Obiten in the centre. He towered over the child, the boy coming no taller than the Emperors knee.

“And just exactly whom is Obiten the Blessed?” Tiberius asked, standing just a few feet away from his challenger.

“I'm the hero of god!” The boy shouted triumphantly. “Destined to slay the demon lord and bring peace to the world! And you will be my first victory!”

“How long do you give him in a demon realm?” Haddock whispered to Ezekiel.

“Three days at best. Caught by an Arachne...”

“Arachne? I say nothing tougher than a werecat...”

Tiberius exhaled, blowing steam from the mouth of his helmet.

“Tell me boy, how many do you think said those lines before you?”

“W-Well...” The boy stuttered.

“Did the church truly believe you are some holy chosen one? Or do they think that the Butcher of Ardok would hesitate to put down a child?”

The boy bit his lip, shaking off the questions before raising his sword in the air.

“I am the chosen one! The Ecclesiarch said so! And when I'm done with you I'll libert-”

The boys speech was cut short, going silent as the sword over his head suddenly snapped in two. Crom had swung his axe single handily, cutting the magic blade at the centre of its steel. The top half of the blade clanged against the ground, leaving the boy with a broken sword and a hilt. Obiten looked at his blade in sheer shock and terror before turning his gaze back up to Tiberius.

“War is no game, boy.” Tiberius stated bluntly. “Go home to your mother.”

Obiten gulped, looking at his blade and shield again. Tiberius could see the tears welling in his eyes as he dropped the sword and shield, followed by the circlet on his head. He looked back at the, now silent, army once more before running off to his right, disappearing into a nearby alley.

“Now then...” Tiberius called out, bringing his axe into both hands. “Where were we?”
--

“Mouse, I'm home!” I called out, closing the front door behind me.

I didn't get an answer, causing me to search from room to room.

“Cleo? You home?” I called out again.

Suddenly I felt a pressure on my back as two tan coloured paws wrapped around my stomach.

“Got you~” Mimi giggle, hugging against my back.

“Yeah, you got me.” I chuckled and turned around, receiving a surprise kiss on the lips from the Nekomata.

“Whats the plan for tonight?” She asked, hopping backwards with her paws linked behind her, her two tails wagging playfully.

“Oh, I have something special stashed away.” I teased her, scratching her behind the ear.

“C'mon, don't be like that!” She complained. “What is it?”

“Go wait in the living room, and I'll come show you.” I promised her, flicking her gently on the nose before running off to the library.

I stepped behind my desk, opening the drawer to the top left and drawing a bottle of wine. I've been saving this for a good long while now in preparation for my anniversary with Abigail.

...Wait...Abigail? I thought I was married to...

“You okay in there?” Mimi asked, stepping into the library.

I was staring at my desk, the bottle of wine in my right hand. Finally, I looked up at Mimi with a distraught expression.

“...Who are you?” I asked her.

“...What do you mean?” She asked me in return, stepping closer to me.”Marcus, its me.”

My head began to pound viciously, a unbearable sting coursed through my brain like a bullet. I turned around and looked through the window behind my desk, the endless clearing of hills and fields replaced by the trees of Whitegale forest.

“This isn't real.” I told myself, looking back to the women in front of me.

“Cleo?” I asked, this Mimi now replaced by Cleo.

“Marcus...” She whispered. “Whats wrong?”

“You aren't real... This...This isn't real...”

Abigail reeled back at my comment, tears now flowing from her eyes.

“Don't say that...Don't you love me anymore?” She asked me, her lips quivering.

I gulped down the lump in my throat, moving away from my desk and towards Abigail. I pulled her close into a hug, my vision becoming hazy as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Of course I do...” I whispered. “These three years, they have been the happiest days of my life.”

I pulled myself away from the women I had been married to. She kept changing shapes and voices, and every time she did my memories changed. From Cleo to Abigail to Lupa Moriko to Mouse to this Mimi, with every change of her appearance, so did my memories. It became more frequent until she was changing right before my eyes.

“This isn't real...” I managed to say through my tears. “None of this is. I should still be in Whitegale, I never came home.”

“Don't say that.” Cleo cried, holding on to my hands. “Three years, you can't say three years is nothing...”

“No, of course not.” I tried to reassure her, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I'll remember everything, every moment. I'll remember how you cried when I gave you that ring, how you laughed at all my stupid jokes.”

I looked around me, the walls of my house tearing themselves down to reveal nothing but a black void, an endless void that goes on for eternity, black and cold. It was just me and her now, I held her as tightly as I could, feeling her tears against the shoulder of my shirt.

“I will never forget you, I promise.” I whispered to her.

With my last words, I felt her body give away and her grip around me disappear. I was just me, alone in the void. I fell to my knees and looked up at the nothing wiping my tears from my eyes.

“I promise...” I whispered one last time.

And once again. The darkness took me.