Forgotten Conqueror B2

Chapter 36- A Godless World

By the time he neared Vilute, Biran's clothes were drenched, and he was freezing due to the frigid water. In his haste, he had neglected to obtain something to paddle with, and had committed his own arms and legs for the job. A horrible idea due to a lapse in judgement, he was now exhausted and shaking.
A number of row boats were tethered together outside of the city, and his heart sunk at the sheer amount of them. Enough to carry a small force, the enemies could easily outnumber their warriors still within Vilute.

After ascending the steps that led to the waterfront, he approached the opened gates, "What's this? Did Eril miss someone?" A woman walked out of the city, followed by a handful of others.

Two stunning violet eyes were staring at him. The woman was wearing traveling leathers, and had short purple hair going down to her shoulders. The armor gave her a rough and hardy appearance, but it only made her look more desirable. The men around her were cloaked in grey and black, and they too were also wearing leather armor.

'NO!' He immediately froze upon realizing who she was.
Memories sped through his mind of the mage who held her own against the imperial guards. She was the very mage who decimated their twenty-man unit and required the sacrifice of three malgins, just to stall her as he made his escape with the prince. The memories from that day when everything went to shit bound him in place, and he could do naught but stare in fright and anger.

She looked at him, then to the water and smiled a devilish grin. A beautiful grin. "Did you swim all the way here?" She questioned, but his lips refused to answer. "Being stared at is flattering, but know that my beauty is very costly." She quipped.

'She has no idea who I am!' The thought struck him, and Biran quickly attempted to calm down. He had been wearing his armor and helmet at the time of the attack that day, and it was possible she couldn't recognize him. Tearing his eyes away from her visage, he immediately identified the others. They were people whom he had saved barely a fortnight ago: people who had been chained and were being moved to Garnikul—to be sold as slaves. A piece of his waning sense of righteousness died, as he understood what might possibly have happened. Before he could say a word or move a muscle, one of them stepped forward and whispered something into the woman's ears.

The beautiful smile curved into a sinister grin, and she scanned him with two predatory eyes filled with hate and a tinge of interest. "So it's you... the bastard that's been giving me so much trouble." She spoke, and her voice carried a sweet yet vile sense of danger in them.

Biran instantly grabbed the sword at his waist and charged her. His arms flickered outward in a blur, aiming to kill the woman with a surprise attack. Instead of slashing open her neck, his sword stopped in midair before even reaching her.

"Such obvious retaliations." She sneered, holding her hand out as if stopping the sword with an invisible wall. "You see, this is the difference between you all, and we, the chosen of this world." The woman invoked a spell, and Biran was immediately thrown backwards. "I can kill you without even lifting a finger." With another incantation, the ground beneath Biran rose up and caged him in a wall of spikes. "But killing you after all the trouble you've put me through would be no fun." She smiled and looked to others around her. "Go back and prepare the horses for me. This won't take long." The woman commanded, and the group bowed to her before descending the steps into the boats.

"You fuckin bitch! Where is the prince?!" Biran shouted from his cage, knowing full well what she was after.

"You will know soon enough. Asiran. Notis vaain hisaara dao-!" She began chanting another spell.

His body started going numb, and he could feel his strength being drained as paralysis took over. Biran struggled, trying to force his body to cut through the spikes, but his arms and legs refused to move. The sword he was holding slipped from his grasp, making a loud clanking noise as it fell. Unable to even support himself with his legs, as the cage slowly receded back into the ground and he followed.

"Sweet dreams, mister knight. Your prince is no more, and you will soon follow." The vile grin manifested upon her beautiful face once more, along with a laughter that ridiculed him to the core. He tried to open his mouth to shout and refute her words, to deny her declaration, but he could not. With a kick, she squared him in the jaws and everything turned to black.

...

Feelings eventually returned to him, and Biran slowly regained his awareness. He could tell that he was being pulled, and his feet—which were dragging—were constantly hitting something along the ground. With a throbbing pain in his jaw and still without any strength, he opened his eyes, only to see that the streets were littered with bodies and limbs. To his sides, he saw many mangled and burnt figures protruding from the smoldering rubbles as if they were still trying to crawl out of the ashes. All were undoubtedly people whom he had known. People who had welcomed him and his prince, and some were even those that he himself had saved.
With all the deaths around him, his stomach twisted in agony, knowing that he had assisted in causing such a tragedy by rescuing the group he met earlier.
Biran gritted his teeth as he was dragged past the bodies, reminding him once again of how utterly pathetic and powerless he truly was.

"Biran!" Familiar voices called out to him, and he was suddenly thrown onto the ground. Two men rushed over to him and sat him up. "What happened to you?!" One cried out, seeing his flaccid arms and legs.

Around them was a small group of men. All were fighters who had worked alongside him and the other liberators to help free slaves. Across from them was an enormous group of Vilute's very own residents: men, women, and children—powerless folks who had been gathered and were sitting together in fear. He quickly noticed that their two groups were both before the entrance to the barracks, and a wall of people surrounded them all. Glancing at the enemies, they easily doubled the number he had in his head from seeing the boats.

"W-where is my son?" He managed to question, looking at the two men.
Besides the princess and her knights who were there at the time he revealed everything, no one else knew about the prince's true identity.

One of the men lowered his gaze. "We haven't seen him..."

'Your prince is no more.' The despicable woman's words assaulted him, and an image of the young boy being burnt alive manifested in his mind. He turned to the large group, "Lyal!" And shouted with what little strength he could muster, earning him kick in the back from their guards. Coughing, he turned to the men again. "Guh-... T-the princess... where is she?" He inquired, taking deep breaths to dull the pain in his back. She was his only hope left, as she should have sent someone to secure the prince.

"The princess is..." One of the two answered, but refused to speak any further.

"Vernera is what? Where is she?!" He exclaimed, fearing the worse.

"SHUT UP!" The man who kicked him before shouted, and did so once more.

"Dead." Solio's voice supplemented the two men's silence, and he turned to see the short round man squeezing through to his side.
The older man pointed to a window on the barrack's second floor.

Biran looked up to see the severed head of the gveril princess sitting on the windowsill, blood still dripping from it, and her horn bloody and broken. He clenched his teeth, holding in the urge to scream out. 'Your prince is no more.' The words told him exactly the sort of people he had been up against. "There are no gods..." The words slowly left his tired mouth as the knowledge that he had truly failed registered in his mind. Any reason for ever returning home to Unotus was gone, and his life was as good as over.