Later, at the entrance of the Chandra Mahal…

Much to Elena’s surprise, the guards at the gate had, without so much as a single question, acknowledged the authority held within the Beholder’s Mark etched upon her left hand. And with Claire’s hand in hers, and with those turbaned warriors bringing up from both the rear and the flanks, she strode purposely through the gem-laden path set before her, the red coattails of her hooded longcoat billowing gently in her wake as she moved swiftly past the evergreen beauty of potted plants and rippling fountains.

Standing at the end of the path, flanked by hooded servants dressed in similar yet visibly inferior finery, a young lady with brown hair and red eyes awaited their arrival, her tanned and honey-like skin radiant under the moonlight. A golden circlet adorned with gleaming rubies crowned her head, from which a pink, gauzy veil flowed down from behind her hair. Her outfit of onyx, purple, and red silks, twisted together and threaded with coloured gemstones exposed, rather noticeably, the slimness of her waist, before ending off with a pair of silken harem pants and jewelled slippers upon her feet. Her arms and ankles were decked out in golden bangles, armlets and leglets set with rubies and amethysts that jingled softly when she, alongside her servants, bowed in greeting.

“Warmest greetings, honoured guests at Her Majesty’s whim,” the lady announced, her voice both warm yet carefully reserved. “I am Belial Alhazred, the Ninth of the Nine Kings of the Dread Expanse, and acting Overlord of the Royal Guard of Oasis.”

Lifting the sides of her red longcoat, and with a smile upon her lips as she eyed the Sand Wraith’s ravishing regalia, Elena performed a curtsy. Claire quickly followed suit, her gauntleted hands lifting the tresses of her cleric robes as she lowered her knees.

“Elena de L’Enfer,” Elena answered, as she noticed the curtains of sand and grit that had spilled forth from Belial’s clothes and onto the otherwise pristine steps. “And she’s my companion, Claire de la Lune.”

“You’re a long way from home, Vizier of the Eye,” Belial stated. “I trust, wholeheartedly, that the City of Dreams has been to your liking so far?”

“It’s alright,” Elena answered. “Haven’t been here in a long time. And I’ve yet to properly sightsee, y’know?”

Belial nodded. Without so much as a spoken word or the visible cue of a gesture, her servants left her, moving in formation back into the palace’s interior.

“Understandable, and most regrettable. The nature of Lady Mezalune’s request, speaks much of the urgency that you have for your companion’s condition…”

And it was then, that the gaze of Belial’s red eyes fell squarely upon Claire’s presence.

“Wait! Those brown eyes of yours. I know them, despite the vampiric pallor…”

Letting go of Elena’s hand, Claire stared nervously at Belial.

“Um…”

“I’d recognise them anywhere… I would!” Belial declared, her reserved demeanour melting away into girlish excitement as she slowly walked down the steps. “I’ve seen you before, when Heretic’s caravan came to perform for us about a decade ago! Why, you’re Elician Jewel, the older sister of Innocence!”

For a moment, Claire stood in silence. And she frowned when Belial drew closer to her, when it came to her thoughts so clearly, the lavender-haired girl who Innocence once was.

“Yes, indeed!” Belial squealed. “I’m a big fan of your little sister’s work! And, um… I was looking forward to seeing her in person last year, but she wasn’t with the guild caravan. Tell me, is she alright? I’ve yet to see her in any recent publications…”

“Um…” Claire answered, frowning as she thought of Anna and her green eyes and the eldritch chains that were now hers. “My little sister? Like me, she’s… retired.”

“So soon? But she’s so young…”

“Right. Anyway… Belial? I’d like to get started,” Elena interjected, causing both Belial and Claire to look at her. “You know what I want from the Caliph, so… what do I have to do for her? Let’s get it over with, quickly.”

Belial coughed once and cleared her throat. And then, she smiled warmly and calmly at Elena.

“Indeed, Vizier of the Eye. But first, hospitality must be observed. It has been a long journey for the both of you, has it not?”

With a playful wink, she turned on the balls of her feet towards the palace proper. And with a wave of her bangled arm that seemed to shimmer with the very air itself into the fleeting shape of multiple arms in motion, she beckoned for both Elena and Claire to follow her.

“Yes, indeed. The both of you are afforded this, as per the Archon’s Privilege. Especially you, Elician Jewel, who has Her Majesty’s favour. She does not know it yet, but I’m sure she’ll be most delighted to see you again.”

“Right, of course…” Claire answered, before turning her head to look at Elena with a playful smile upon her lips. “Shall we, my love?”

Elena smiled.

“C’mon, Claire.”

With her beloved’s hand held firmly in hers once again, they followed Belial into the luxury of the Chandra Mahal.

 

---

 

In the Hall of Fleeting Moonlight…

It was a luxurious parlour, even when compared to the likes of the Ecclesiarch’s Studio in the Ancient Cathedral, its spacious interior furnished lavishly and decadently with everything and more that the greed of a mortal’s heart could ever possibly desire. And as if to convey this sentiment to any and all, the air itself remained heavy with the scent of lavender incense from jewelled censers ensconced upon walls bedecked with tapestries and art lost to a bygone era.

Sitting cross-legged upon a jewelled sofa spacious enough for three, with Claire by her side and with the Sand Wraith and Vizier of the Caliph known as Belial Alhazred sat regally upon a thronelike chair opposite them, Elena remained placid and expressionless. Wordlessly, she picked up the glass of wine set upon the jewelled coffee table that had been served to her by the Sand Wraith herself, and emptied its crimson contents in a single sip. And with that same glass still in hand, she looked at her beloved who had barely touched her wine, choosing instead to stare despondently at its bloodlike colour.

“My apologies to you, Elician Jewel,” Belial explained regretfully, the gaze her of red eyes carefully set upon Claire’s discomfort. “I would have what you need mixed in there, but Her Majesty explicitly instructed me not to.”

She then paused for moment, taking a sip from the glass of wine that she had poured for herself.

“At least, not until the both of you meet. Lady Mezalune informed us well of your… condition. And Her Majesty knows best for such matters, not I.”

“Right. About that little bit,” Elena interjected as she placed her emptied glass upon the coffee table, eyeing the little bits of sand and grit pooled around the Sand Wraith’s seat. “When’s that gonna happen? Now that we’re done with this… hospitality.”

“Right now, actually. Soon,” Belial answered. “If you agree to Her Majesty’s terms.”

“Nice. Any chance I can say no, and still get what we want?”

“You can,” Belial countered warmly. “Most unwisely, of course.”

Elena sighed.

“Knew it.”

“Make no mistake, Vizier of the Eye,” Belial added. “Our words may claim and move you, but at the end of the day, your soul is in Lady Mezalune’s keeping alone. Not ours.”

With her arms crossed, a wicked grin formed upon Elena’s lips.

“Heh. Just tell me who needs to die.”

“There’s a Wight roaming the Dread Expanse, as we speak,” Belial answered courteously, as she looked Elena in the eye. “She’s a shade from a past era, a fallen Death Knight who manifests once every century to walk these sands with a vengeance. It’s the same path every time, on and on for eternity.”

Elena grimaced, and nodded just as grimly. The Death Knights were an elite order of vampiric warriors from the southern provinces, who wielded two handed claymores and necromancy as easily as they did the blood magic bestowed upon them by Amon’s Blood Curse. They, like herself in the days of the Corruption, had remained beyond the war of extinction between the elven Emperor and Elicia, only to be destroyed in the latter’s conquest of the known world. And last she knew, they had been slain down to the last Death Knight of their once great order, who had bent the knee to the living god herself to serve as her Archon.

“Once, she was something more,” Belial added, nodding solemnly. “Now, though? She’s a Wight – a hollow, murderous shell of her former self.”

“You want me to put ‘em down for another century, then?” Elena asked, her words heavy with a rhetorical relish. “Right. Of course you do! Why did I even ask that out loud?”

Belial nodded. With two quick claps from her ring-adorned hands, a male servant dressed sparingly in purple and gold finery joined them at the coffee table. His hands and arms were dressed in bloodied bandages, and he unfurled upon the table, a map inked with every known landmark of the Dread Expanse upon its leathery surface, down to the most minute detail.

“Yes, Vizier of the Eye. Her path is predicted to reach a nearby trading settlement,” Belial explained, as she stabbed a manicured finger upon one specific point on the massive map, that remained a distance away from where Oasis had been marked. “She’ll be there, two weeks from now if her wandering pattern remains the same. We’ve already evacuated the townsfolk to remains behind the walls of Hazzan’s palatial compound, but…”

“Hazzan?”

“Of us Nine Kings of the Dread Expanse, he’s the eighth,” Belial answered, before nodding curtly at Elena. “He’s a fellow Vizier of the Caliph, and those surrounding acres are his domain to rule as he sees fit, so long as he pays Her Majesty’s tribute. Alas, he’s no warrior like me, nor is he a sorcerer of your calibre. There’s no way he can handle this Wight, and so it falls to us to help.”

“Wait. Hold up,” Elena asked, as she leaned forward with a start. “Us?”

“Indeed. You didn’t misunderstand me. I shall fight alongside you,” Belial answered. “Make no mistake, Vizier of the Eye. This Wight was once a Death Knight of the Alyssian Empire of old, and her mastery over the darker powers are little different from Her Majesty’s might. In fact, it usually falls on her to perform the deed of slaying this Wight herself. It has been this way for the past two centuries, until now.”

“Heh. I’d go out on a limb and ask why not,” Elena remarked out loud, her grimace turning to a wry grin after a moment’s contemplation. “Lemme guess… the Caliph doesn’t wanna get out of bed to do her job this time?”

Belial shrugged her shoulders.

“In a way, yes. Her Majesty is… weary. That, and with your arrival… she sees an opportunity for mutual benefit.”

“That’s one way to put it...” Elena remarked wryly. “Wish I could tell Lady Mezalune that, the next time she wants me to do something…”

“Alas, we’re mere servants to the greater Archons, as they are to Elicia herself,” Belial stated in reply, nodding first at Claire, and then at Elena. “Do we have terms?”

Elena looked at Claire, who replied with a quiet nod. And with that, she nodded at Belial.

“Yup. We have ‘em.”