"Please. I beg of you!" a voice whimpers, its soft cries echo down the cold, stone walls of a twisting staircase.
"Restrain yourself, sister!" another snaps back. "This is my moment. Why would I cower when I stand on the precipice of greatness? Stand back if you can't stand by me."
"W-wait, please, Anna. Just listen to me for once…"
"Enough, Aribelle! The ceremony has already begun and your incessant whining has made me tardy. Once again!"
Glimmers of moonlight slip through the window slits of the ancient tower that pokes out of the eastern wall lining the Northenian Royal Palace's central courtyard. Arienne and Aribelle, twin sisters and heirs of House Lindbergh, a proud martial lineage, race down an archaic spiraling stairway.
Arienne takes swift peeks through the portholes as she moves, trying to catch glimpses of the palace courtyard where torches flicker on the outskirts of a large group of people, sending long shadows dancing across cobblestones.
An ancient wizard, tall, wide and wrapped in intricately woven robes, speaks piously to his audience from atop a small stage in the courtyard's center. Elven ears stand pointedly erect as he waves his hand in the air and strokes at his beard.
Beside him sits an old, wrinkled priest, equally adorned in luxurious finery. He listens intently, while a group of people stand before the stage, facing the crowd.
"Storms take me! Do you see? The proceedings have already started. His Grace introduces the expedition team! Argh! I swear, Bella, I will have your hide if the Prime Magister finds me belated because of your… bountiful blabbering!" Arianna barks at her sister, grabbing her wrist, pulling her faster down the swirl of steps.
"W-Wait Anna! I'm going to fall!"
"Then I will catch you, Bella. Like I always do. Every time you find trouble, I come to your rescue. But, this is my moment, please, don't take this away from me. Just come, and be quiet!"
They reach the door at the stairway's landing, bursting out into the courtyard, but Aribelle digs her heeled boots into the cobblestones, pulling back her sister with what physical strength she can muster.
"Arienne, I beg. Please listen! I need to explain to you my findings. Something's not right, I-I can feel it. This doesn't make sense! Why now? Why you?"
"Fate. Divine providence. The spirits have heard our prayers, and behold, they have been answered." Arienne proclaims sarcastically. "I care not for rhyme or reason. I have been blessed with the capacity, perhaps even, a divine duty. I am meant to deliver us from the Dark Lord's torment, and if not, I will die trying. What greater honor is there to any Northenian soldier?"
"Anna! You are not listening!" Aribelle yells, slapping her sister against her breastplate. "I've been helping with the preparations for the expedition! I know what you are getting into… the Stormlands, the monsters, the… Dark Lord's lair. I understand. All of it. If anybody can do it, if anybody can stop this curse, it's you."
Arienne glares at her sister, her face twisted into an unimpressed scowl. She stares hard into Aribelle's ice-blue eyes which quiver with anxiety.
Arienne sighs, relenting to her sister's worries.
"Posthaste! You have 15 seconds. Relay your concerns. But, know this, I have an oath to uphold…"
"Exactly, Anna. We all have an oath to uphold, and mine compels me to warn you of what I've learned! I don't think the guild has been honest with us."
"What do you mean? Are you accusing…"
Aribelle clasps her sister's mouth and pulls her against the smooth, stone walls of the Royal Guard's barrack's tower.
"Shh! Just listen, you bloody hilt-head." Aribelle whispers. "Do you even know how your expedition team is getting through the Stormlands?"
"W-well… they haven't really disclosed details… but General Beloch assures me the guild has discovered a clear path through the Stormlands, directly to the Dark Lord's lair. Moreover, how we get there is not of my concern! The fact we don't have to march through mountains and monsters for three months is good enough for me." Arienne retorts in a huff.
"Teleportation!" Aribelle yelps. "They are going to teleport you directly to the Dark Lord's stronghold."
"Oh…" Arienne shrugs. "I supposed that makes sense. A direct path to the lair."
"No, Anna! It's not possible! The distance itself is far beyond anything the Mage Guild's spells could traverse via direct teleportation. Furthermore, Luna and I have been looking into the archives of the previous expeditions. It's abundantly clear that teleportation through the magical storm that covers the Stormlands is impossible! They've tried it innumerable times over the last 80 years, with all but naught to show for their efforts. How are they suddenly able to do it now?"
"How could I possibly know, Bella? You're the brilliant mage academic, I just swing a sword. Your words, remember."
"Arienne, please! They've tried everything to find a way through the storm for over a century. Nothing worked. Hundreds, if not thousands of lives lost…"
"So, they must've figured out a new way. Some new magic..."
"What? No… look, I've, um… I've seen some of the Prime Magister's personal notes while helping him prepare the incantations. You know I've seen some strange things, Arienne. I've seen some very strange things in my time at the academy and guild. But the runes and inscriptions I've seen in the Magisters notes, the drawings and plans he had hidden away among his expedition plans… they look… they look forbidden, Anna."
Arienne weaves her long fingers through her sleek, blonde hair, rubbing at her scalp to urge her brain into making sense of her sister's declarations.
"Surely you don't speak of… black tech? Dark arcanics?" Arienne questions as her brow bends in perplexity.
Ariabelle nods enthusiastically, but a slap to her chest relieves her of her knowing smirk and most of her breath.
"I pray you jest, sister! Moreso, I pray you never mention an utterance of this drivel to another soul! Those are words of heresy! Do you wish to see us hanged as traitors? Our family's legacy crushed?" Arienne chuckles. "Please, I know the thought of me fighting that demon brings you no joy, but to resort to such nonsense. This is truly unbecoming, even for you, Bella."
"I dare not joke on the matter! Luna and I have been investigating. I know they're hiding something, Anna. I can prove it. We just need more time to investigate."
"Aribelle, enough! Talk any more of this and I will drag you before General Beloch myself. Do you hear yourself? Forbidden magic and black tech? The Great Spirits would abandon us at the mere thought! You have found nothing, sister, and your fears of losing me clouds your judgment. Have faith, woman! Have you ever known me to meet a challenge I could not best? I will return victorious, like I always have! Now settle your mind and see me off with a smile." Arienne smirks, slipping her hand into her sister's.
She snatches Aribelle's chin and tilts her sister's face towards hers.
"I would be exceedingly troubled if I could not see the most beautiful face in the kingdom before I leave to protect it."
Aribelle quickly leans in and plants a brief kiss on her sister's nose.
"Anna! Please…" Aribelle, voice trembling, begs for her sister's understanding.
"Aribelle Lindberg! I said that is enough!" Arienne snaps, pushing her twin sister away. "If you won't see me off, I suggest you return to your quarters and clear your mind of these heretical thoughts. Your concern is appreciated, warranted and duly noted. But I have a kingdom to protect and an oath to uphold. I must bid you farewell."
Arienne sneers, storming off toward the ceremony with a stiff soldierly strut, leaving a sniveling Aribelle to slump to the ground. Her soft, pink cheeks puffed out and carved with flowing tears.
The stern knight, hearing her sister's snickers, sighs deeply as she turns back around. She hurries back to Aribelle and helps her to her feet.
"Bubble Belly, I promise. When I get back, I'm all yours. No soldier business. No expeditions. Just you and me. We can go spend a whole year in that damn cottage in the bush you keep nagging me about. Just… just please don't do this to me. Not now. I'm supposed to go out there to save this bloody kingdom, Bella. I can't do that if I don't have your blessing."
Aribelle, lip bent and brow shivering, stares at her sister with fear and frustration while holding back tears. Arienne stares back, her face downturned as her vulnerability-filled eyes tug at Aribelle's emotions.
"Ugh! Fine! But don't say I didn't warn you. Hilt-head! Please… please just promise me you'll be careful out there. Take every precaution. Plan every step. Don't be reckless, Anna. I've seen what you're like when you're overcome with bloodlust." Aribelle scowls, rubbing tear-trails off her cheeks.
Arienne suddenly erects her posture, stiffens her body and pokes out chest and chin. "Yes, sir!" She barks at her sister playfully.
"Ugh! Your immaturity can be truly intolerable." Aribelle sneers as she rolls her eyes. "I'm serious Captain Lindbergh, I need you to promise me."
Arienne pulls her sister by her collar, forcing their bodies together while she fiddles with the strings of one of the necklaces around Aribelle's neck.
"W-wait. That's mine!" Aribelle protests as her sister removes the pendant their mother bestowed her on their 13th birthday. One of her most prized possessions.
"Calm down. Here, take mine." Arienne says as she rips her pendant from her neck with a wince. "You know how much that means to me, and I know how much this means to you. So, I promise, Aribelle Lindbergh, I will soon return. With your pendant as well as the Dark Lord's head."
The sisters share laughs and a deep embrace before seeing each other off with knowing smiles.
Arienne quickly marches off and vanishes beyond a row of buildings, leaving behind her trailing shadow, as she moves toward the brightly lit courtyard. The clip-clop of her armoured boots fading off into the loud cheers and applause that warmly welcomes her.
"And here she is now! As decided by both the Crown's decree and the Church's divine ordination. It is my honor to introduce the leader of the 56th Royal expedition into the Stormlands, Knight-Captain Arienne Lindberg!" The Prime Magister, Denero Sigrund, declares as he glares at the approaching Arienne.
The crowd across the courtyard clap and cheer while murmurs of the Knight-Captain's various achievements and accolades can be heard whispered amongst those present. Arienne can't help but grin as she hooks onto faint murmurs of her potential for greatness and the divine gifts she had been bestowed.
Her grin widens as she struts through the crowd, until the Prime Magister's leer reminds her of her station.
"Apologies for my tardiness, Your Grace. A small family matter had…"
"No apologies needed, dear child. For you are our light in the darkness." Prime Magister Sigrund yells out toward her.
The public face and operational head of the Mage Guild, Marcucius Sigrund was renowned across the kingdom for his immense magical expertise and nearly 70 years of unfaltering leadership of one of the Kingdom's oldest and most powerful organizations.
"Never in our histories has there existed a swordmaster of your talents and ability. Through our loyalty, dedication and unwavering faith, the Great Spirits have truly blessed us with your coming on…"
"The truth, Sigrund, you speak the divine truth!" The old churchman seated next to the Prime Magister suddenly yells out. "For more than 2000 years the Dark Lord's rot has brought death and devastation to our humble lands. Oh, how long I've waited to see him meet his moment of ruin. Over 200 years I've waited. For decades I've prayed! Oh, Great Spirits! Finally, you have heeded our call! Salvation awaits us!"
"Thank you, oh Grand Vicar Faltis." The Prime Magister interjects. "As you say, for decades we have had to send countless souls to their doom. Hoping, desperately, to put an end to the monster invasions that plague our nation. The efforts of all the men and women lost to those previous expeditions have not gone in vain. For it is through their sacrifice, that we have finally discovered the exact location of the Dark Lord's lair!"
Prime Magister grin proudly while he watches the crowd contend with the knowledge of his declaration.
"Divine providence! Signs of salvation from the Great Spirits themselves! Truly, our faith and their mercy has led us to this glorious day." The Grand Vicar bellows.
The old man's fervent oration causes the Prime Magister to break into a chuckle.
"Ha! Yes, your grace, as you say. With the Church's divine assistance and through years of research and development at the Guild, we've been able to refine and perfect our most powerful teleportation magic. We've created a spell capable of piercing even the impenetrable wall of darkness that shields the demon's den. No longer shall our warriors be forced to tread through the treacherous Stormlands, no more shall they fight wave after wave of monsters in a death-race to reach the Dark Lord's lair. No!" Prime Magister Sigrund grunts as he slams his palms together sending out a thunderous crash of magically enhanced sound through the courtyard.
The crowd bewilders while the Prime Magister slowly turns his eyes firmly toward Arienne, his mouth twisting to a wide, knowing grin.
"For today, we will meet the demon at his doorstep!"