Forgotten Conqueror B2

Chapter 32- Weapon of Compassion

-Elsewhere in Malpaars-

Three days ride west of the capital Maverus. The town of Tirtha.
An industrial town prior to the war, it was captured and used as a central base of command for the revolutionary army. Through its proximity, they were able to surround and cut off supplies to the capital, ultimately bringing the war to an end.
Afterward, it became a thriving center of trade and a point of defense against those who would try and take the capital.

Through the busy streets of the slums, a man strolled alongside the numerous people who were busily going about their morning.
A longsword at his waist, the man was taller and had a larger build than the average man. Not only was his physique enviable, he would be considered handsome, if not for the scars on his face. The man's long brown hair was skewed to the left side of his face, covering a large burn scar that ran from his left ear to his neck. A second series of scars came from a weapon that chipped the left side of his nose and mutilated his upper and bottom lips, giving him an almost deformed look. The last one ran from near the center of his forehead to the right side of his head, barely missing his right eye.

The man stopped before an old graying beggar who was kneeling and holding up cupped hands. Pulling out a few metal bits from his pocket, the man dropped them into the beggar's hands, closing them with his own.

"Ethaer's blessing to you! Ethaer's blessings to you good sir!" The old man exclaimed graciously.

"I know these are hard times, but please do not give up." The man replied, his voice filled with bittersweet sorrow and pity as he held onto the old man's hands. "Better days will come. I am sure of it." He comforted, as he stepped back before continuing on his way.

After a few more stops to give handouts to orphans and beggars alike, he turned into an alley and continued until he reached a small stone house. Simple and run-down, it was very much like all those around it.

"Welcome home, dear." A cheerful, almost elated voice greeted him as he entered.
A beautiful woman wearing a wavy grey skirt with a loosely buttoned white blouse was standing before him. She had a black shawl draped around her shoulders, but instead of covering her upper body with it, the shawl was wrapped around her arms.

"If you're here, then I assume everything is ready?" Far from happiness or the sympathetic tone he had shown earlier, his voice was stern and cold.

The woman made an exaggerated motion, taking a few steps back and falling into the chair behind her. "Why?! Please! Does my body not satisfy you anymore?!" Putting the back of her left hand to her forehead, she took deep breaths, raising her chest and emphasizing the division of her plentiful bust.

"Enough with the theatrics. Answer me Kaval." He shot her an unamused glare.

"Tch. You're no fun."

"I said I would help. Not play along with your nonsense. If you've nothing else, get out of here."

"Fine, fine. We'll do it your way. But might I say something first?" She got up and started pacing around the small living space. "It's a great barrier you've got here, but you really do need a woman's touch. This place is so drab and plain, I can barely call it a house fit for living." She turned back to him as she stopped at the chair again. "Although I would never understand why you chose such a dilapidated hovel in the first place, considering all the other locations you could have taken for yourself."

"Leave." He replied with full on irritation, his left hand grabbing the hilt of his sword.

"Jeez, you're so serious," she replied with a mischievous smile. "I thought playing house would lighten your mood. Apparently I was wrong."

"..."

"Well, I'll get right to it then." She sat down on the chair and crossed her legs seductively. Yet seeing no reaction, her smile quickly disappeared. "My spies have infiltrated the prisoners and are now being led back to their base. It is only a matter of time until they are ready."

"And the targets?"

"Unconfirmed, but I am positive they are taking refuge within."

"Very well," The man responded, reaching into the inside of his coat and pulling out five rings. "Just make sure your men are ready when the time comes."

"Of course." A smile appeared on the woman's face.

He picked out two of the metal rings and wore them on his fingers. With an incantation, he transferred his mana into the rings, activating both magical items.

"Yes master?" A man's voice immediately came through from one of the two. A voice he knew too well.

"Rakkon. It is time. Prepare for my arrival."

"Understood, Master Eril." The voice obeyed, sounding very eager.

He was Eril. One of seven masters who rule Tal'hrus under the old master. Although not his real name, the title was granted unto him after years of proving his worth to the organization, and he wore it with pride.

After his subordinate's affirmation, the connection from the ring stopped and its faint glow faded.
He stood motionless, waiting for the second ring.

Kaval, also one of the seven masters, sat in her chair, watching quietly. There were signs of curiosity on her face as she waited for the subordinate to answer.

There was an odd disturbance, then the connection merged.

"Ah, at last. I have been waiting."

A voice Eril had never heard before came through the glowing ring on his finger. An adolescent's voice that sounded almost pleased to be connected through to him. "Who are you? Where is Linde?" He replied, puzzled by the unknown voice.

"Countess Belinde is no more. I have taken the liberty of releasing her from your commands, oh esteemed master of Tal'hrus."

His finger twitched upon hearing the mocking statement. Whoever it was, they knew about him and about Tal'hrus. Even about the rings and their functions. Keeping a composed visage in front of Kaval, "Did you kill her?" He calmly questioned.

The woman—Linde, also known as Belinde—was not a powerful mage in terms of combat abilities, but her specialty in manipulation magic had earned her a place in his inner circle. She was quite valuable, and he had assigned some of his stronger mages as her guards. It was unthinkable for someone to have defeated them.

Yet, "Yes." The voice calmly replied, giving no recourse for doubts.

His body tensed at the proclamation that Linde and his mages had fallen. A few paces before him, Kaval stood up from her seat. "Eri–" She attempted to say something, but he held up his hand to quiet her. "You said you were waiting... who are you?" He inquired in an attempt to get some sort of read on their opponent.

"... I am Death." After a momentary pause, the voice answered. "The cries of the fallen beckons, begging for justice from beyond the void. I have come to see their vengeance fulfilled, and regrets put to rest." As it spoke, the voice shifted into a deep commanding tone filled with an icy fury.

He easily understood what the voice meant, and a surprised smile crept onto his face. "Then you are a bigger fool than I thought. You will die, and that vengeance will be nothing but an illusion. We are Tal'hrus. We are absolute." He responded, undeterred by such empty words.

"You are a false pretense, living on borrowed time. Gather your forces and bolster your defenses. For the winds of carnage are blowing, and I am coming to collect."

"You-" will fall in the face of overwhelming might. He wanted to counter, but there was a burst of light from the ring and it faded back to normal. He felt that the connection had been forcefully severed.

Eril silently took off the ring, remaining calm as he stepped toward Kaval and sitting down on a chair across from her.

"I thought you said you had everything under control?" The woman reproached him.

They both understood the consequences of leaving alive someone who could possibly be a threat to Tal'hrus.

"I do." He swiftly replied as if to rebuke her words.
It was impossible for the wretches that were left in Malpaars to stand against him and his.
Even the remnants of the old monarchy that now called itself the Liberation Army would fail, should they attempt to retake the country. The reasons why he even allowed such an insignificant group to run amok, was to help root out all the dissenters that are—even now—plotting against the new rule. Their existence was also beneficial, as it provides his subordinates with feasible cause to subjugate those they find uncooperative, in the name of hunting for radicals.

"Then explain what just happened. Whoever that was, they clearly knew about our organization and what you are."

"I can see that, Kaval. I am neither blind nor deaf." No matter how much he tried to keep himself composed, annoyance was seeping through.

"What are you going to do then?" The woman questioned as a smile appeared on her face.

He could see that she was enjoying harrying him for the unexpected situation.
"I must contact the old master and tell hi-"

"No!" She shouted. "We will not call for a meeting with that old monster yet!"

"You wish to remain silent even about this?" He held up the ring in his hand.

"I don't care about the fucking rings!" Kaval exclaimed, standing up from her chair and closing in on him. "What I care about is my life! If you haven't forgotten, I don't have very much time left!" She exclaimed as her face openly displayed her anger and fear. "That monster made it quite clear that the next time we meet, if I am yet unsuccessful, I would be replaced!"

"You don't have to come. I will let them know that you are preoccupied with our joint operation."

"Oh yes, skip the meeting. That worked wonders for the previous Narshon didn't it?" She replied sarcastically.

"Then what do you propose?" He enquired, understanding her fears all too well.
Eril quickly recalled their meeting with the old master barely half a turn ago.

Just as they were starting to reclaim their foothold within Darsus, the new Zavon had failed to show up to report his progress.
The only source of information they were able to put together, came from the few agents that fled to Rovtoss and Kulis after the loss of their command structure. Like a curse, all signs were starting to point towards the same fate that befell the previous Zavon five years ago.

It had infuriated the old master, and due to Kaval's lack of development with her own assignment, she had taken the brunt of the old master's anger.
It was no wonder she was being so adamant about it.

"I propose we proceed with our plans and kill that little fucker along with his shitty knight. We end this hunt once in for all so that I'm not constantly in danger whenever I'm standing before that old fuck. We finish that and you can tell him whatever you want."

"Show some respect. He is still our master."

"Respect? I'll start showing some when that fiend starts appreciating what we do for him! I'm sick and tired of losing people just because he deems them failures." Kaval snapped back. "Old age must be getting to him and he's scared you know? I'm willing to bet he knows that his reign is coming to an end, and that one of these days, one of us will be in his position." She started laughing maniacally with a grin on her face.

"Big talk for someone that was begging for her life." Eril replied blandly, not sharing in her delight.

"I might not have the strength to go against him myself, but you know my words to be true. If we can just-"

"Enough. Those efforts will only end with our deaths." He stopped her before she could start with her plans again. "For now, I will refrain from notifying the master of our unknown assailant. Go prepare yourself and meet me by the western gate at sundown. I shall muster up what forces I can before then."

"I'm serious, Eril. Another two or three more, and-"

"Kaval!" He shouted, halting her words. "We leave at sundown." He repeated himself, making sure she understood that there were no room for further disputes or otherwise.

"Fine." She brusquely stepped away from his vicinity and headed for the door. "Until then." She gave him a devious smile and left, closing the door behind her.

Eril sat in silence, contemplating his decisions and Kaval's words.

Ever since coming to Malpaars to finish her job, she had been trying to rope him into her conspiracy. To form an alliance with a few of the masters and overthrow the old man from his position of leadership. With the last meeting they held, her hatred for the old master had only grown deeper.
It might be possible if they teamed up as she professed, but none of them knew the extent of the old man's abilities, thus none had ever dared to try.

Eril quickly brushed the suicidal thoughts out of his mind and focused onto something else.
He held up the ring that he took off earlier and stared at it. Whoever was on the other side was skilled enough to erase all traces of the synchronized magic within the rings, rendering the accessory inert and useless.
A part of him wanted to inform the old master of the unknown mage, but another part of him was fascinated, and desired to face the stranger that claimed to be "Death" in battle.
His lips curved into a smile as his fist closed around the metal ring.