The Chains of Others

[DirectorBright]

What a lovely egregore you are...

---

Indras is dead.

Hard to believe it's reality. Atrellya is routed and in ruins, though a few remnants remain. Demons all across the land turned back to beasts by the blacklight.
She's free, now... she must be.
She can rest, as she deserves, and walk to her mother in the next life as she promised she would.

It didn't come without a price. Where there were six, there were two. Now there's only one. The last one, who holds my heart together. 
The one who keeps my feet beneath me. The one who keeps me... here.

And the others?

Gone ahead of us, now.

We are defined by the people in our lives.

Tell me about them.

The ones you lost most recent of all.
The ones who were with you the longest.

---

The Knight and The Prince

A long time ago, thirty some years now, there was a girl in Arcadia born to non-magi parents of no renown. A bright child of the pastoral town, of pink hair and red eyes, who aspired to be a knight. Not in service of any nation or crown, but in service of an ideal: The one who slays the monster, the one who saves the prince, the one who protects the good people of the world. Hefting aloft a simple, rusty broadsword, she encountered a pair of adventurers.
A man in black robe and hood, who hid his face and spoke softly. 
A man in shining armor of white, who flickered with light and holy purpose.
Both had come to Arcadia to heal and rest, and having heard her story and seen the state of her equipment, they told her a simple truth: It would not take her anywhere, with an old and rusty thing like that. Yet the two were kind, and forged her weapons and armor of steel, gifting it to her to bear. The girl asked why, and the two said:

Because I want to.
Because you need it.

As time went on, and the girl grew, steel gave way to mythril, and mythril eventually gave way to the golden wool of Arcadia's pastures. The man of light vanished without a trace, as the demonic hordes of the crescent fortress swelled back to strength, temporary peace at their recent defeat fading away. They never found out what happened to him until many years later, that he was slain by those of Atrellya.

The man in cloak and robe searched and inquired for his lost companion, yet found nothing, and in time they accepted that he was not coming back.

Yet in his place, came another. A prince, the same age as the girl, from the warm southern seas of Fortune. Of dark hair and hazel eye, born to royalty, he wished for none of it. He bumped into the girl in the wilderness, and she brought him to Arcadia to rest. The two were fast friends at once, and the man in cloak and robe took to mentoring them as much as he made their gear. They sparred well and often, as he trained them to protect themselves and others alike. In goal, the prince and the peasant were the same, seeking to protect the people they cared about. When wounded, each came to the archnurse, and all of the four steadily became companion to one another.

The prince and squire would go out on adventures, fighting monsters, meeting new people, seeing new places.
When they returned home, the archnurse would treat their wounds while the cloaked man aided, and then he would take them to train and grant them new equipment.
Ages passed, as time went on. They became good friends, every one, along with the Daughter of the archnurse.

The man in cloak was there for much, but not for all, for he was a shrouded thing that did not share his name or face, nor his aspirations. Yet, he was friend to them, in every way he could be, and they were loved as family by him in time. A shroud rent, thread by thread, until one day it was removed entirely, and he stood to be known by them all.
The prince and the knight fell in love, promising to marry one another in a few years, and the others were happy, conspiring between the three to craft special rings for each in time.

And yet- nothing beautiful can last forever. Turmoil struck the town under witch hunting, and the archnurse faced a collar without cause or justification. Disgusted by the brewing schism within, they made a promise to one another: No matter where they went, or what happened, each would be by the other's side; Til the bitter end, they would be one another's keeper. They scattered in part, yet met well and oft.
The Archnurse and the Daughter moved north, to a castle amidst lands of driven snow.
The Prince and Knight, to the southern sea.
And the once-shrouded man, to the castle-city in golden fields.
Yet the man had a secret, finally to share with them, for he could not bear it any longer without their permission. He had studied the darkest of arts, and yet- had been dissuaded from the path by them. For to walk upon that lowest road would be to lose them, to bring pain upon them, and they mattered to him as much as the very breath in his lungs. And so, the path was set down, and left aside, and all was well.
Until a message arrived, from the man, and the archnurse, many years later.

He had, until... the world turned again. When the demons retreated, the nations turned upon one another, and in disgust, he fell from his grace back upon the dark road.
For just as a dog returns to it's vomit, so too does a fool repeat his folly.
In a moment, it came undone, as his confession to the Daughter found the northmen listening, and she was slain upon the streets of that castle before her mother, and the man was set to be hunted.

And yet- the archnurse had written to the man, and sent him warning and notice of his loss. For he loved the daughter as his blood, and grieved heavily in guilt. Though he offered the three his life, they refused, and the Prince took him to a far-away island on the edge of these lands, to hide away with the grieving archnurse until he could find a way to save him. Even so, the man proclaimed he was doomed regardless of action now, and that he would descend... yet...

And yet the Prince remembered the many years of kindness he had shown, and so, he shielded the man regardless. Though he had every reason to destroy him, he could not bring himself to turn against his friend and mentor. And so... quietly, he began to move. The grieving nurse and man were placed together, and with quiet encouragement, found love in one another. With words to the man of the trouble that could be, and by never once having strayed from his graces, the man was persuaded to stay, that not all was lost or terrible indeed. Yet upon a dark path he still walked, and the dead rose to his command despite their urging... though it tested the faith of the prince and knight heavily, neither still were willing to turn upon him.

For the prince still believed he could be saved, having seen the good that remained in him even now, when few others would.

When the nations found him, still the prince stood in their way, authoritative that he was right. And so, turning to the man, he pleaded him to stop, for if he continued descending, the men of gloom and gold would come for the Prince and Knight for having shielded him, and the Archnurse's heart would shatter in the wake of it. He would hurt the family he was trying to protect. And so, the man, with a healed heart and something to lose now, relented, and surrendered himself, in one final act as a necromancer he lured the proclaimed Tal and her followers into his home turned prison, and the forces of the south fell upon her. Though she was not taken, she was wounded, and the man given a second chance.

The Prince had saved his friend, from paths oft beyond any salvation.

Time passed, and the Knight and Prince became King and Queen, bearing rings forged by the man that shone with every hue, the power of each other contained within, and swore upon the blade he forged the day she truly spread her wings. Their children filled the isles, the man was accepted into their kingdom, and worked many years to heal their wounded and scrub at the inerasable sin he bore. For a time, all was right again.

Such never lasts. The world turned again.

For though the man had given up the path of the necromancer, another had taken it up, and set himself against the islands. The winds of death beset the shores of the south, claiming many lives over the years, until finally their captain aimed for the Knight herself. Yet, by the power they held, he was repelled away and wrought low, barely escaping with his life. In celebration, the man and archnurse were wed upon the isles, his dark path shed forever as he walked in the light of faith, and once again, things were well and good. Occasionally there was strife, one of their twins willful and forceful, yet in the end they remained as family, even if tensions rose from time to time.

Yet as we know, the world turns, and evil never rests.

When the western nations struck upon the Archnurse for the sins of the man's past, the Prince, in furious vengeance, set upon the chairman of one of their nations alongside the enraged southeast, and brought him low in single combat, to drag him home. A flashfire, as the western nations targeted the east, and yet the southern sea was kept safe by the threat of the ire of the Prince and Knight. Even so, it was a time of turmoil.

In those years, the captain schemed and slaughtered, and he grew in power. A final push was made, to assail his tower upon the sea, and calm the winds of the south once again. The Knight and Prince, alongside their children and soldiers, pushed upon those shores and sought to bring him low for good... yet not all stories, end the way we wish they could. Though he fought valiantly, and though he was renowned for his strength in both character and battle, his foe had amassed relics to bolster him beyond many men upon the land. The battle was fierce and close, and in the end, when both came down to a single strike...

The Prince fell to the captain's blades.

In his final moments, he did not cry, nor did he wail or weep or beg. He professed his love to his Knight, the Queen, one final time.
And he was gone.

Though grief and horror rocked the islands, and the remaining three grieved immensely alongside his children, evil never rests. The next year, the winds of death once again befell the island, and it seemed certain to the man in his abysmal state that the Knight was sure to follow the Prince into death. And yet, though many had accepted that it may be her end, this time, the hubris of the captain was his undoing, and he met his end upon the shores at the hands of the widowed Knight, and her willful son, alongside old friends of their family.

All the vengeance in the world does not bring back the ones they had lost. And so, though the captain were slain, and the man held a memorial in honor of those lost to these cruel years of rotting winds. A thing that eased the wounds, yet could not mend the absence in the hearts of those who had known the Prince. Though it took many years, the man slowly recovered himself- yet never entirely was the same. Nor was the Knight, for the strain of leadership and all that came with it weighed upon her heavily.

Even these tarnished years could not endure the turning of the world, once again.

The demon king of Atrellya began his invasion in earnest, a clock towards extinction as his armies crept southward. Though the islands were the last to be struck, preparations were still made in order, knowing it was only a matter of time. Yet the invasion moved slow, and men move quickly, and the tensions only grew. For without the Prince, the Knight was tired and worn, the children weighed down by his absence, and the kingdom losing steam. In light of the times, to lift spirits, the kingdom held a gala, and the one who was sent to attack the archnurse brazenly stepped within. Seized by the kingdom's forces, the man rejoiced knowing that one who had brought him torment would face justice. And yet, without the Prince's wisdom, and in the Knight's fatigue, the foe was spared, and the man felt betrayed to his core. Though the Knight apologized, the wound was too deep, and the willful child lashed out upon the man for his anger.

The Prince was gone. The Knight, worn, and wishing to step away from the throne. Though she kept a brave face, she was tired, and no longer so joyous as she once was. It came in quiet hours of the night, and it was plain that she was losing her desire to go on to the man, despite the love that he and the archnurse tried to show. For it was simply a wound too deep to heal. And so, with his reason to remain gone, and in the sting of betrayal, and no trust in the new leaders to be, the man left, and returned to the castle in golden fields.

When the first imperfect aimed to strike at Mestra, the willful child stepped forwards to face down his soldiers, and protect the heavens. For though he was brash and oft abrasive, such a sin would never go unchallenged, and he put forwards his life for a deity he owed no allegiance. Yet once again, the world had turned, and the son was slain by the monsters that were brought to aid this blasphemy. And at this, the Knight was struck again, and grew yet more quiet and tired.

Even this bitter age, did not stop the world from turning again.

And so, finally, the invaders descended upon all Meranthe, and while the demon king's shadow fell across the northland and he himself rampaged, the Sage of Ruin came for her home. The Knight set foot upon the battlefield, alongside her family, soldiery, and a Mercenary who had come to live within her lands. The battle was apocalyptic, and yet, the sage was finally, blessedly slain. The kingdom was saved, to see another day.

Yet it was not without cost. In the battle, a blast of the foulest of the occultic art had swept across the fighters, and sought to unmake many. In her hand, the Knight held an amulet that could warp fate itself, to stave off the end when it otherwise appeared certain. She could endure the strike that aimed for her very soul... but...

She was one who protected the good people of the world.
And so, the amulet's power was aimed not at herself, but upon one of her loyal soldiers, The Rootkeeper, that she may live.
And the Knight, too, was gone.

They are together now, the Knight and the Prince, as they were before.
They hold one another and laugh and smile with their son, wherever they are.
And they are happy.

That is what I remember, of Rio Caldrott Emeraldi, The Maritime Knightess, and Marfons Emeraldi, The King of Fortune.

---

Goodbye, you two.
I'll miss you both terribly.
One day, I will find you again, and tell you all that has happened.
Until then, I will shed my tears, and carry forwards.
I will try to be happy and smile, as you would have wanted to see.
I will never forget you.

Thank you.