Rebirth of the Nephilim

“Word has come from the western front. Volto has lost the coastal city Kastoria. It was swarmed by an exceptionally large force of demons that came from the Siren Sea. There was an estimated loss of nearly thirty thousand of their citizens.”

Prince Kestil, second in line to the throne of the Alfhilderunn Empire, cut his egg with his fork and let the blue yolk pour out onto his plate. He watched as the viscous liquid slowly overran the small, neatly cut pieces of sausage nearby, their forms enveloped by the tide. His knife, held in his other hand, hovered over all, poised to cut off the flow at any moment, to halt the progress of the spreading contagion. But, when should he apply the dam? After three pieces of meat were overwhelmed? Four? Surely not five?”

“Such a tragedy,” Prince Hraustrekr, first heir to the throne, commented behind the rim of his teacup. “A senseless waste of life. If only I could have spared the manpower from the north and eastern fronts to send aid to Volto during this crisis. I will have to see if I can arrange any more divisions from the less active lines to support them.”

Ah. So it was. The dam withheld and the flow unhindered. The yolk left free to consume all the bits of meat it could reach.

“Indeed,” Emperor Somerulf bowed his head in a sincere display of grief. “So many lives taken before their time. If only the Hero could be in more than one place at a time. If nothing else, we should send more material aid, if possible. Food and clothing can go a long way towards taking some of the burden off of the Volto senate to provide for their citizenry so they can focus efforts on more defensive measures.”

“An excellent idea, father,” Hraustrekr agreed immediately. “I will see it done.”

Kestil idly wondered what numbers his brother would set aside for Volto and if they would be even remotely in line with what their father envisioned.

“And perhaps you can reroute some of your mercenary companies to the western front, Kestil?” Emperor Somerulf asked, his aged face creased with worry. “Surely the southern province is more under control by now?”

“I will have to review the possibility,” Kestil smiled kindly at his father. “I just received a report from Weigrun’s Magistrate late yesterday. Depending on the situation, I will see what arrangements can be made.”

Ah, that was a fair opening his father had given him. Perhaps something could be done to bolster Volto, if Kestil could manage it.

“And what news of the southern province?” Hraustrekr asked, his tone mild but his eyes keen. “Do many demons still haunt the Great Southern Forest? Any improvements to the eleria production?”

“I haven’t read the full report yet,” Kestil lied. “However, Magistrate Vraekae reported that there is a strong possibility that an independent mercenary managed to slay the Bone Thief Matriarch that was last sighted near Kalters Wall. It’s not yet substantiated, as the mercenary apparently had not the presence of mind at the time to take an eye for verification, but Vraekae has good skills for catching out lies and she believed the account. I’m sure her next report will come with confirmation.”

“Wonderful news!” The Emperor smiled and took a healthy bite of his breakfast. Kestil smiled inwardly to see his father’s appetite return. “The more of those detestable creatures that are slain, the better. I understand the Hero killed two of them earlier in the month, correct Hraustrekr?”

“Yes, father.”

“Good, good. Three dead in a single moon’s time. Wonderful news!”

“And what of the eleria?” Hraustrekr asked, less subtly than his already clumsy attempt before.

“It’s up,” Kestil admitted. “The latest shipment was ten percent greater than the last.”

“Excellent,” Hraustrekr’s smile did not quite reach his green eyes. “Then perhaps we will be able to craft more enchanted weapons and armor for the war effort. The troops along the northern front have not nearly enough enchantments to allow them to properly aid the Hero with his push to drive the demons off the continent.”

“Yes, yes,” Emperor Somerulf nodded along, still smiling about the slaying of three demonic matriarchs. “I’m sure those extra resources can be routed to assist the Hero in his efforts. He has shown remarkable growth for a human, even considering he is the Hero. With the proper aid I’m certain he’ll soon succeed in clearing the east of those vile spawn of Samleos.”

“Indeed,” Kestil openly agreed.

Breakfast lasted for only a little while longer, with much of the topics discussed dominated by the Emperor’s analysis of the current Hero as compared to the previous one, who he had known well in his youth, and the ones from before who were more a matter of historical record. Kestil did not pay much attention as the topic was a favorite one of his father’s and many of the same points were repeated from recent past discussions. Other matters weighed on his mind, such as how he was to counter his brother’s military machinations without showing too much of his hand. That he was plotting his own moves had to be obvious to Hraustrekr, or at least to his more intelligent advisors. There was no point in trying to hide that. Instead, it was a matter of hiding exactly how competently he was planning his eventual succession to the throne.

Once he had been dismissed from the Emperor’s table, Kestil immediately headed for his own solar. The opulent marble halls of the capital’s palace shone around him as he quickly made his way to the east wing. Through the tall windows, he could clearly see the great city of Eldingholt spread out around the palace, the sun shining on towering walls that had not suffered a direct demonic attack in centuries. There was not a cloud in the sky to block the golden rays coming from above, yet a looming shadow did slide smoothly into place across Kestil’s view.

“Your highness,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled next to him.

“Eadgar,” Kestil acknowledged the hulking orc who joined him as he strode to his private hall. “Is everything in place?”

“It’s done.”

“Good.”

Kestil appreciated how brief Eadgar was with his words. He spoke little and listened much. Those aspects were but a few of many that made him a good spymaster. His written reports would have any further details he might need and if there was something of immediate concern, he would have said so. Since there was nothing more forthcoming verbally, Kestil knew that all had gone to plan.

Of course Hraustrekr would suspect him of lying about the exact amount of eleria the latest shipment contained. So, he would send his own spies to search out the truth. Hraustrekr had good spies, so they would find that Kestil had actually received a fifteen percent increase over the previous shipment and they would see that he was selling that increase to various different merchant guilds under the table for a significant profit. Hraustrekr would either confront him about the discrepancy, or he would hold onto that information as something to use against him at a later date.

Of course, the real truth was that the latest shipment had been twenty-five percent higher than the last. A fact that Hraustrekr and his spies would never know. Which meant Kestil was free to use that undocumented Eleria for purposes his brother was blind to.

Eadgar was a much better spy than anyone Hraustrekr employed.

Entering his private apartments, Kestil was greeted by another one of his cadre waiting for his return. Lady Severina stood tall, her armor shining with the golden sigils of Valtar reflecting the light of the morning sun. With her helmet under one arm and her white wings folded at her back, she looked only slightly less martial than the seraphim typically presented herself.

“What was so urgent that I needed to fly back to the palace overnight?” Severina asked without preamble. Her stern demeanor made it clear that she did not appreciate being pulled away from her field duties so abruptly.

“This,” Kestil replied with as little formality. Here in his solar there was no need for pretenses. “Read and tell me what you think.”

The Second Prince passed Magistrate Vraekae’s report to the knight. Taking a seat on his couch, he allowed Severina the time to read and process the information contained within the letter. As he waited, he assessed his two closest advisors.

Eadgar was as stoic and hard to read as ever. Even when he’d read the letter his stone wall of a face had evinced no reaction. The barest twitch in his heavily muscled arms had told Kestil the orc had found displeasure in something about the letter, but what exactly that was he had not yet revealed. Kestil didn’t press the man. He knew he’d tell him once he had fully formed his thoughts.

Severina was easier to read. Her golden brow lowered in obvious consternation as she read and reread the report. Even if she’d had her helmet on to hide the tells on her face, Kestil would have seen the way her whole body tensed and her feathers puffed out like an angry hawk. Indeed, the news must have been particularly perturbing to her as her cross-shaped irises narrowed into slits.

“This is a joke. A farce. There’s no chance that after almost two thousand years three Nephilim would simply appear out of nowhere!”

“You think Vraekae would lie?”

“Of course not!” Severina almost shouted, waving the report in Kestil’s direction. “But she must have been tricked. Some high-level con artist, or a Fetch, or I don’t know, something. But the Nephilim are dead! This is preposterous!”

“Vraekae verified, she saw their status sheets. It’s in her report,” Kestil pointed out, mildly amused to see Severina so flustered. “Do you know of a way to fake something like that?”

“No. No I do not. But still—”

“What does your god say,” Eadgar interjected.

Trust the stolid man to cut to the heart of the concern. Severina’s connection to Valtar was exactly why he’d wanted to hear the Seraphim’s opinion as quickly as possible. Kestil could have gone to a priest, of course. Vraekae had made it clear that the High Priest of Far Felsen knew about the Nephilim and he had no doubt reached out to the temple leadership in the capital as well. But the prince wanted to hear from those he trusted, first.

Severina composed herself, eyes closed in concentration. She centered herself in that way that her kind could do, her soul reaching out to her god for guidance. Kestil had to admit to some small amount of jealousy, when it came to the chosen children of the gods. That they had such a connection to the creators of all without any need for a class or skill was a great advantage over the rest of the populace, even if it came with certain… downsides.

A moment later, the Seraphim opened her eyes, brow still furrowed with displeasure.

“I sense a warning.”

“Duplicity?” Eadgar asked, his bulky frame overshadowing Severina’s slender one. “A threat?”

“Not exactly, no,” Severina slowly shook her head. “I sense caution from Father. Not danger, but the shadow of it. There’s something wrong, but it’s… complicated.”

“Complicated,” Kestil echoed.

“That is my interpretation, yes. Complicated.”

So, not all was as it seemed. The Nephilim were likely true, though there was some greater tapestry of unseen threads being woven. Whatever picture was being manifested, Kestil would need to predict it quickly so he could gain proper advantage of it, preferably before his brother became too involved.

“Who would be best sent to keep an eye on the situation? Chaucer, perhaps?” Kestil asked his advisors.

“He’s busy with Becket,” Eadgar shook his head no. “The pilgrim issue.”

“Ah, yes, I remember now,” Kestil winced.

“I could go,” Severina volunteered. “It would take little for me to dig out the true nature of these apparent Nephilim.”

“I’m certain of that,” Kestil eyed the way Severina gripped the pommel of her sword. “However, I need you for another matter. You may have heard the unfortunate news concerning Volto? I would like you to lead a squad of elites to Kastoria, see what you can do about aiding any survivors. Discreetly, of course.”

“By your command,” Severina nodded. She clearly wasn’t happy about not going to confront the reported Nephilim, but purging the world of demons and rescuing imperiled innocents would placate her nicely, Kestil was sure.

“Noll,” Eadgar rumbled out, crossing his arms to make it clear it was his final suggestion.

“Noll isn’t one of ours,” Severina countered, giving the orc a suspicious glare. “Unless you’ve managed to bind him to you since last I spoke with the man.”

“No,” Eadgar denied the idea that he’d suborned the strongly independent mercenary. “Soft touch required.”

“Ah,” Kestil let out a soft exclamation as his spymaster’s meaning came to him.

Noll wasn’t sworn to his service, but he was a trustworthy individual who could be relied on to report the truth to him, especially if he was paid the right price. His status as an independent mercenary meant going to Weigrun wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, either. Even more importantly, the man hated Hraustrekr, so the chances of him being turned to his side were low.

“Yes, Noll will do. Call in any favors you have with him and get him down to Far Felsen,” Kestil put his proverbial seal on the plan. “Let’s see what we can find out about these Nephilim. Jay, Dys, and Syd, was it? They could be of great use in religious circles, even if the tale of them slaying a bone thief matriarch before reaching level forty proves to be an exaggeration. And make sure to put in a more public inquiry for Hraustrekr to see as well, Eadgar. I know he’s likely getting his own reports on their miraculous appearance and we can’t have him thinking I care too little about this startling new development happening in my own province, can we?”