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Rating: PG-13
Notes:The Scourge War devastated Camar’a Sere’th, a war that would have seen all the life and beauty snuffed out, the destruction of the very world. Nearly forty percent of the known world was killed during that war, and the man who had lead the undead army, Drefan Robert Royale, Prince of Royale was forgiven for his part in the events and as far as most know has gone into hiding. Most just wish him dead. This is 21 years later.
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"I understand war Mylord, every scar seen and unseen on this shell is from war." Shnorhik rebuked her eyes on Drefan’s turned back. “I know the hate, I know the ignorance. But how much longer do we have to wait? They will wait, your people will wait till the day old age takes their souls into the stream and their blood nourishes the land. But must they? You are our heir," she implored.
Words would grow louder as the warrior tried to get her point across, “Camar’as’ terror at our loyalty should not stop us from being free. What did we fight for? What did those women die for if not for our God Nanqa, if not for you!?”
“Which is precisely why I can’t rule!" Drefan spun to face her, his eyes black fire now, but even so she would not back down as he tried to make her understand. “Damn it, it is my fault that nearly my entire people were eradicated and you want me to take the throne?!"The words hissed out through grit teeth. Shnorhik’s arms crossed as she watched him, her brown eyes on his black, and “…Is that what you really believe?" she asked at last and the Royalian shook her head at him a deep sadness to her eyes.
“No Mylord, we knew, in our hearts," her scarred hand laid on her breast. “Through the darkness, we could feel the grief weighing down and you slipping away from us. But you were too far afield, we could do nothing from here," and the grief was huffed out, eyes hardening, starring at Drefan unafraid of her liege, daring to challenge him with her next words. “You never had to ask for our forgiveness! To us there is nothing to forgive!"
“Nothing??" Drefan snapped but Shnorhik would not give up ground, "Nothing. We marched north into the lands of light; we fought beside Islay, Daranigh, Jharrik and Gaelian because you were lost. If we could stop you then maybe we could stop the world’s suffering, free the northlands holy city, and with that perhaps you would be freed too. Honor dictated no less then stand beside our enemy because they would never do such a thing for us!"
Drefan starred at Shnorhik, at the woman who had died and risen moments later to keep on fighting in a seemingly endless war more times than could be comprehended. She shook her head, not having lost that same strength twenty one years after the fact, “We were not going to give up on you, or give up on Nanqa. Never."
She stepped another solid step forward, eyes still boring into his unerringly, “You never had to ask anything of us, we give ourselves freely. That has always been our way; we die upon our blade to give our lives for you, for Royale, our homeland. You then bring us back to fight anew in the legions of undead and we are proud to have that honor to serve our kingdom and our King. We give up our first born child, returning that precious life to Nanqa so he may remain strong in the void so someday he can come back to us. We wait! We have waited two thousand years, when by the Lord of Darkness and Honor does the waiting end? When can I take my blade to the stomach of the next Camar’ian fool who dares shove and spit on one of us?"
Drefan began to shake, the wisps of darkness crawling up his arms and slowly he would lose his human appearance, showing the skeletal undead beneath. Shnorhik continued, “You are a Liche Mylord, we consider that the greatest honor bestowed to man, to attain immortality and search for wisdom and knowledge for eternity. Is this all forgotten by the lack of having a soul?" She sounded pained and suddenly exhausted, “Perhaps it is not only the Camar’ians who need to learn of Royale," and the fire went out in her and she at last turned away. “Fear not the deity that created you Mylord, for that is the greatest of sorrows, to lose faith in what only meant to protect you."
Drefan hissed through his teeth softly, hands curled into fists by his sides, “Nanqa through my hands was what dealt all the death and destruction that took place during the Scourge War!"
Sudden bitter laughter from Shnorhik and her eyes closed hard, head shaking, back still turned to him, “No, no. That was insanity, not Nanqa. Not you."
Drefan fell silent. All of it just sounded like excuses.
"I cannot explain it well enough, I do not know enough to explain, but we believe. Our Lord Nanqa came back to us when the war ended when for three years no prayers were answered. But even during that while, roses bloomed for the souls sacrificed to protect our lands; people came back from the dead time and time again. No other deity has want of us; no other deity has given so much to us. We are Nanqa’s and Nanqa’s alone, though we honor all Sixteen, even Reinn Anon who wants us wiped off this planet like an infestation." Shnorhik turned slowly to look through her dark brown curls at the man who had nearly destroyed the world. Drefan Robert Royale, descendent of Nanqa,undead liche, bitter and tired after his mind was restored from grief stricken hatred, the man that should have been the Royalian King, their King.
Drefan huffs,"Alright, then who do I speak to now?"
“There is a little girl Mylord, she is favored by Nanqa, a vessel for our Lord of Darkness, she would be able to explain better. I am a warrior, not a priest."
“…Then I will attempt to find her,” Drefan mumbled, so it seemed her words had shaken him and he would go looking for this girl after all. Nathanael had been right, even if others forgave you themselves; if you did not believe yourself worthy of their forgiveness you would never be forgiven. Perhaps he needed to do the forgiving, to forgive his deity in return so that he could be free?
It was worth a try he supposed…
