“I’m beginning to suspect that you’re very good at this,” Marcis said a few minutes later as he narrowly avoided another mortal strike that nearly caught him in the throat. “If this continues much longer, you may end up doing me a serious injury.”
“I’m going to take your life,” his opponent said grimly as she parried his counterthrust and stepped inside his guard. Before Marcis could react in time, she struck him across the jaw with the pommel of her sword then followed through with a powerful back spinning kick that caught him in his gut and had him gasping for air.
“Time out!” he said, holding up an unsteady hand while he tried to get his breathing under control. “By the gods, woman, that wasn’t nice at all!”
“It wasn’t nice?” she replied incredulously. “I’m trying to kill you, you vainglorious prick! Why should I hold myself back just because you’re unable to keep up?”
“Because it would better reflect your generous nature and speak highly of your character, young lady!” Marcis choked out before climbing up with wobbling knees to resume his fighting stance.
“You are an aggravating, arrogant little man,” the woman said. “Even now you aren’t taking this seriously! Don’t you understand that this is your punishment? You aided the old regime in plotting the civil war, and now your daughter of all people has enslaved the kingdom! The corpses that can be laid at your feet are uncountable!”
“Do you really think so?” Marcis asked her. “I haven’t put much thought into it myself. I mean, who would? Dead bodies make for an unpleasant visual, yes? But if I’m truly responsible for what you say is an uncountable amount…well, I suppose that’s something I should take pride in, isn’t it?”
“This is no joke, Count,” the woman said sternly. “I can see the very essence of your soul. You are mired in sin! Dripping in blood and debauchery! How can you even stand beneath the weight of your corruption?”
“Well, mostly I skip,” Marcis said. “Haven’t you heard? Heavy sinning makes for a light heart.”
“You’re disgusting,” the woman said with contempt.
“You don’t find me even a little bit charming?” Marcis asked her in a wounded voice. “You still haven’t introduced yourself.”
The woman paused for a moment to consider his words. Then said, “I am Lady Kestrel, leader of the revolutionary force for the restoration of Winstead.”
Marcis snorted at once.
“No, you’re not,” he said glibly.
“Excuse me?” Lady Kestrel replied.
“There is no chance in the abyss that your real name is Kestrel,” Marcis tittered. “That’s just too cool! Who’d name their daughter after an ominous bird of prey? It’s clearly an alias. Besides, I feel as though I’ve seen you before. Yes, you seem very familiar to me.”
“I think you’re mistaken,” replied Kestrel.
“No, I don’t believe I am,” said Marcis. “Your mannerisms are very similar to my wife’s granddaughter. You can’t be Sarah, though. You come across as entirely too sane. No, If I had to put a finger on it, I’d say you were…oh. Oh! I remember now,” he said excitedly as he snapped his fingers.
Kestrel stared at him silently, letting him continue.
“Yes, it was during Sarah’s ceremonial anointment when she was appointed the Paladin of the North!” Marcis continued. “You and the other two were there to receive her as your spiritual sibling. There was old Tabrius of the West, still at it even well into his seventh decade, and the elegant Gretchen of the East, so by default… that means that you’re the gentle Arden of the South!”
In response, Kestrel, newly revealed as Arden, removed her mask and tossed it aside. “You’re a more observant man than I realized, Count Marcis,” she said.
“Thank you for your kind remark, but such perception isn’t impressive at all. It comes to everyone with sufficient experience,” he replied politely. “Goodness though, to think a holy Paladin has rebelled against the nation and has come to claim my life. What strange twist of fate awaits me next?” he asked himself with a chuckle.
“Nothing awaits you except death,” Arden replied cooly as she pointed her sword at him once more. “If you’ve managed to recognize me despite my disguise, then surely you recognize this sword?”
“Ah, well, unfortunately, the answer is yes,” Marcis said with a slight shiver. “Oh, I never liked the way the light gleamed from the edge of that thing’s blade! It seemed to always hold on to a sort of inner purity despite being a tool of church mandated butchery. Whenever Laurel came by the house wearing it, I wanted to flinch. I was happy to hear that it had vanished after Fenneth’s passing.”
“I’m sure all those bearing wickedness in their hearts were quick to rejoice at that news,” Arden said. “But this sacred blade is destined to vanquish the darkness of this world, not succumb to it! As the new holy maiden, I will lead the crusade that purges evil from this land!”
“Ah, so that’s your game. I wondered how you intended to spin things to suit your agenda,” Marcis said dryly. “Honestly, it’s been done before. I was hoping that whoever’s backing you up would have more of an imagination than that.”
“Again, you mock me, pawn of the Godwells!” Arden said with growing fury. “I don’t seek to justify anything. Do you think I intend to rule this land after its liberation?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Marcis asked her in slight confusion. “Wouldn’t that be the entire point of conquering it?”
“W-what? You deluded prick, is that truly how you view my efforts to save the country?” Arden asked him in astonishment. “Wait, why should I find this surprising? Of course, this is how someone as demented as you would see the world. I’m not out for personal gain, Count Marcis. I’m trying to protect the people from your daughter!”
“Protect them from what?” Marcis asked her as he settled into a sitting position on the floor. “Haven’t you seen how much they love her? Look at all she’s given them. Lady Arden, they’re beginning to worship her. Isn’t it somewhat of a futile gesture to try to save people who like things the way they are?”
Arden shook her head immediately, denying his words as he spoke. “No! Absolutely not. If anything, it becomes even more important to try to help them. The empress has given them comfort and wealth, but at what cost? She’s binding them to her using heretical magic. Her every gift comes with the peril of eternal damnation!”
“Heretical by whose definition?” Marcis asked her. “The temple no longer has the authority to define what is and isn’t sacrilegious.”
“Because Everly slaughtered the faithful! She openly scorns the teachings and deliberately targets those who refuse her blasphemous reformations!” Arden replied.
“There was a time in this world before the rise of the temple,” Marcis countered. “People lived peacefully for thousands of years before the rising of the faith. Do you mean to say that everyone who ever lived before the coming of the temple is now damned for the sin of having lived too early? That doesn’t seem very likely.”
Arden frowned at him. Then she sheathed her sword and took a seat on the floor across from him. “Of course, those who came before weren’t damned. The gods hadn’t yet decided on which revelations to share with humanity. It would be a wickedness to punish those who dwelled in ignorance of their sins.”
“Interesting,” Marcis said thoughtfully. “But what of the lives of my household guard? You’ve slain three dozen innocent men whose only crime was faithfully serving their lord. Was knightly decorum a sin great enough to warrant their collective demise?”
“My only intent was to challenge you, Count Marcis,” Arden said firmly. “No blood would have been spilled if they hadn’t decided to oppose me.”
“But as a bearer of great power both with and without that sword, wasn’t it your responsibility to show restraint against those weaker than yourself?” Marcis wondered.
“I…I tried to,” Arden said reluctantly. “They wouldn’t back down. They wouldn’t acknowledge their defeat. It isn’t my fault that I was forced to defend myself.”
“Not your fault?” asked Marcis. “You raided my home and openly declared your intent to murder me. And now you’re blaming my loyal servants for seeing their duty through to the end. Does an invader have the right to shirk her responsibility?”
“Their lives weigh upon me!” Arden yelled angrily as she stood back up and began to pace restlessly back and forth. “All the lives I’ve claimed do! I joined the temple to serve the people. Not to slay them! I don’t consider myself an exemplar whose needs place her above judgement. I do what I must because so much is required of me.”
“Ah,” Marcis said in an understanding tone. “You speak of the burden of leadership.”
“Yes!” Arden replied quickly. “Yes, exactly that! It is a burden. I didn’t ask for this sword, and I didn’t ask for the remnants of the temple to place their hopes upon me. But I must not deny those hopes, because if I fail them then what chance will they have left to them?”
Now Marcis stood. He brushed off his pants lightly and gestured for her to follow him. “Come with me, please. I think I understand what this situation truly requires.”
“What do you mean?” Arden asked him in confusion.
“You need a drink,” he said bluntly.
Arden stared at his back in bewilderment as he strolled from the room, before hurriedly following him.
__
A few minutes later they were both seated on the leather couch in Marcis’ study, enjoying a glass of something both potent and expensive. Arden almost choked after taking a swallow before regaining control. As the liquid went down her throat, a pleasant burning sensation ignited in her center, and began circulating its relaxing warmth throughout her body.
“By the gods, this is good stuff,” she said with a slight smile. “I’m impressed with your good taste, Count.”
“Thank you,” Marcis warmly replied as he enjoyed a glass of his own. “I’m rather fond of this particular vintage myself. I’m very fortunate that it’s brewed locally. That gives me an opportunity to get at it early before any of my peers.”
“How lucky for you, I suppose,” Arden said as she took a smaller sip. “This isn’t going to change anything, though. I’m still going to kill you.”
“Really?” Marcis said with some surprise. “Despite my amazing outward charm?”
“You…are charming, I admit,” Arden said reluctantly. “But that doesn’t change what you’ve done. The harm you’ve caused.”
“You’re referring to the civil war, I suppose?” Marcis asked her. “I wish people would stop holding grudges over such a relatively minor event in the annuls of history.”
“Minor? Minor?” Arden asked, outraged by his tone. “Thousands died due to your machinations! The country was sundered, the wounds still haven’t healed! And you call that minor?”
“It was all a regrettable necessity to build a stronger nation,” Marcis said offhandedly. “A sacrifice for a better future for us all.”
“That you can say that with a straight face proves that you’re a monster,” Ardale seethed. “You claim to feel regret but what have you done with it? You pass the time playing and living like a king in this estate and do nothing to address the suffering you caused!”
“Hmm. I may live like a king,” Marcis admitted. “But at least I’ve never killed one. Regicide is the one sin that can never be laid at my feet.”
“Bastard!” Ardan said as she threw her glass across the room to shatter against a wall. “I didn’t want to spill the blood of King Septus! But what choice did I have? He was about to form an alliance with your daughter! It would have spelled the end of the nation!”
“The nation ended anyway,” Marcis replied calmly. “Are you so arrogant that you can’t understand it was a lost cause? Everly was playing with us. She could have ended the entire thing whenever she wished. She didn’t because she derived too much enjoyment from the farce. You slew the king for no reason.”
“No…No! It’s not as you say!” Arden said, but now doubt resonated in her voice.
“I’m afraid so,” Marcis replied. “I’d known Septus since we were both children. He was like a brother to me, perhaps the greatest friend I’ve ever had. Between the two of us, I have far greater reason to hate you than you have to hate me. But even with the knowledge of your crime weighing heavy in my heart, I can only pity you.”
“You pity…me?” Arden asked him slowly.
“Of course,” Marcis replied. “You and I are both the same breed of fool. In the past, I acted with great cruelty out of an arrogant belief that I was doing the world a service. In you, I see my reflection. But while I was buttressed by my ego, you shield yourself with faith. But it’s not working anymore, is it?”
In a flash, Arden was on her feet with her divine blade pressed against his neck. Her body heaved with anger-filled breaths, and the tip of her sword trembled and drew a line of blood at his throat with its erratic movements.
“Is it?” Marcis repeated quietly, refusing to turn his eyes away from her.
“This isn’t how my life was supposed to be,” she whispered sadly.
“It doesn’t have to stay this way,” Marcis replied.
“I can’t turn away. I can’t turn my back on my followers. I’ve come too far,” she said desperately.
“You weren’t made for war, Lady Arden,” Marcis said. He then rose to his feet and gently guided her sword away from his neck. “You were meant for kinder things than this. Going against your true nature has led you to despair. Your masters have stained your gentle hands with blood out of their selfish desire to retain their power. This isn’t who you really are.”
“They need me…I’m needed,” Arden said as tears began to gather in her eyes.
“Not for this, you aren’t,” Marcis said as he stepped closer to her.
“I-I can’t! To leave now after having come so far…it would be a betrayal,” she said with a gentle whimper as his arms closed around her.
“No, Lady Ardale. They betrayed you first when they had you pantomime the role of a killer. They destroyed you for their farce. You owe them nothing. Nothing at all.”
“But where could I go? How can I just walk away?” Arden asked him as their lips hovered inches apart.
“Why walk away at all?” he asked her. “Stay. Stay with me. For tonight, at least.”
“I…I….,” she began to say before his mouth claimed hers.
With a clank, the holy sword dropped from her fingers as she began running her hands around his waist, first with some reluctance, then with growing eagerness. With surprising tenderness, Marcis guided her back to the couch to lay before him. With nimble fingers he began unlacing her tunic and pulled it free from her. She screamed with a sudden animal passion as he brought his lips down to her exposed breast and began caressing it with his tongue. She then dug her fingers into the back of his neck as she guided his head down lower.
Welp, that was easy, Marcis thought cheerfully to himself as events continued to get more interesting. I have to admit, I’ve still got it!
An unpleasant glare suddenly caught his eye as the holy sword began to shine furiously with an angry blue light, as though it knew exactly what he was doing and was pissed with him.
After a moment’s consideration, Marcis removed his own shirt and tossed it over the sword, covering it entirely and muting its light. You stay quiet, he thought smugly before returning to the main event.
“Marcis!” Arden cried out after he really got going. "Marcis!"
Damn right, that's my name, he thought with a grin.
And just like that, a bad day suddenly turned into a great one.
__
Author's note:
Sorry for the delay guys! After my book launched last week, I've just been living it up like a moron. Which is to say having stupid amounts of fun and gloating. Having that one off the bucket list has been a blast and I'm super grateful to all of you for making it happen with your viewership. But while we're on the subject of my surprisingly well-received debut novel, if any of you awesome lads and ladies and non-specifics would like to amble over to Amazon and leave a rating or a review, that would be aces!
Another chapter on Sunday!
old man Marcis still got it!