The Syzygy Counterattack (Alliria)

[Sir Nathaniel]

A day after the battle on Cortosi Coast, the Paladin, Nathaniel Jameson made his return to the merchant city, having been victorious in destroying his old enemy, Zasz. It had only been a week since he had seen his old childhood home, but it felt like longer after the recent events.

The place in question was called Angelis Keep, and it was a private estate belonging to the Jameson clan. Although they were officially lesser nobility and were technically counted among the gentry, they were well off due to the wealth of his mother's family and it showed. Though it was called a keep, it was intended to be a refuge and a family home first and foremost. An outer man-made meadow stood out in the front before its two-story walls, with all kinds of flowers and many different trees.

The walls were constructed from the same white-washed stone that made up the rest of the city, arranged symmetrically with a set of enormous double doors that marked the entrance. They were built from oak wood and carved with the symbol of the family heraldry: A golden lion sitting atop a fleur-de-lis on a red field, not dissimilar to the heraldry on Nathan's armor.

"My childhood home." Nathan said coolly. "Though I spent little time here. I much preferred to explore; see the world."

He closed his eyes momentarily and a flood of memories came racing back into his mind. He spent many days in the training courtyard in the back, learning the art of fencing. In the library, he spent countless hours poring over ancient texts and reading famous works, both fiction and textbook, learning of the epics and heroes of old. When he reopened his eyes, he walked forward confidently and stopped before the doors, pausing just long enough to make sure his companion was close behind.

Just as he reached out to grab the knocker, he paused as he heard the familiar sound of the many locks coming undone. After a moment, the doors parted and opened and behind them he beheld a familiar sight. That being Marshal Gauthier, a serjeant and the head of the men-at-arms sworn to the Jameson family. He was an old friend of Nathan's father and the unofficial caretaker of Angelis Keep when he was away. Though not a member of the Freedom Fighters, Nathan valued his company and his advice. In the past he had proven to be sensible, reliable and down-to-earth. Those same traits were what made him an excellent advisor (in Nathan's opinion), as well as the fact he was honest, almost perhaps to a fault.

An older man even when Nathan was a youth, his once-golden hair had long ago turned to silver and his hairline receded, though the Paladin noted with some humor that he kept his long mustachio well maintained. Today he had chosen to wear a pale yellow tunic and rich blue trousers, topped off with thick leather boots. There was a gentle smile on his weathered face that made his features to light up, especially his grey eyes.

"Welcome home, Master Nathan." He said in his high, clear voice as he stretched out his right hand. "It warms my bones to see you safe."

"And I am glad to see you as well, old friend." Nathan replied as he took it gladly. They shook firmly and Nathan noted the guard's grip was still as strong as ever. "It's been too long."

"It has. I trust your mission was a success?"

"It was." Nathan replied, nodding. He knew Marshal would not pry.

"I am glad to hear it." Marshal turned his head slightly at the sight of her. "And I see you have not returned alone."

A grin appeared on his face and for a moment, Nathan mused that an old soldier, the man he had looked up to as a family friend and the closest thing he had to an uncle, revert to the emotional maturity of a teenage boy.

"A lovely lady on your arm? Your father would approve, were he still alive." There was a hint of sadness to his warm tone and he inclined his head slightly. "Gods rest his soul."

Nathan laughed a little, clearly embarrassed. "Not quite, Marshal. But she is a guest. So, if you would, please prepare the kitchen, as I have an arrangement with this fine young woman."

Marshal nodded, his grin widening. "As you wish."

______________________________________________

"Mighty Celestial Gods." Maximus, Nathan's apprentice intoned. He was in his usual spot in the chapel, prostrated before the altar with his hands outstretched towards the stained glass windows. He hoped that if he did this enough, the gods might hear his supplications and finally grant his request and finally allow him access to some hidden magical power. Thus far they had not answered his request, but he kept his vigil. If what Nathan told him was correct, he simply did not experience the right moment to access that power - that it all was part of some grand, divine plan.

It shamed him to admit it, even to himself, but Max felt the slightest twinge of doubt about whether or not he would ever attain any real power. He had no doubt the Gods existed; the War God Himself had chosen Nathan as His Voice, but whether they truly cared about the rest of the world outside their little chosen circle was another matter.

"Please, cast your blessings upon me. Lend me strength. Nykios, you give your blessings to my Master. Please, I beseech you, do the same for me."

As with a thousand times before, the figure depicted in the stained glass did not reply, nor did He make any move or sign and Max sighed.

"Max?"

He turned at the sound and beheld Marshal standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Marshal?" said Max, turning fully and rising to his feet.

"Apologies for interrupting your prayers, but you might want to know, Master Nathan has returned."

Max felt his spirit lift in joy. Mayhap, there was some divine intervention after all.

 

[Sir Nathaniel]

The guardsman, Arthur Morn was known among his brothers-in-arms as the most spartan and austere members of the Freedom Fighters and that was just how he liked it.

As he lay on his bed, arms folded behind his head, thinking, he reflected on his choice of decor and how it reflected on the state of his life.

His private quarters had nothing on the walls; there were no furnishings, no paintings, posters and no knickknacks. In the far side of the room, there was only a single bed, a desk and a chair near his closet. But then, like the guardsman himself, appearances were deceiving.

The door to the room was made from solid oak fitted with iron hinges, complete with three complex locking mechanisms to delay an intruder. For further security, his desk's drawers were not loaded with books or papers, but instead was filled to the brim with knives, various toxins, poisons and their antidotes, a set of lockpicks and many other tools and implements that could be used for an emergency situation.

The whole setup was complete by a secret door in the back of his closet (which itself contained, in addition to his clothes, a coat of mail) led to a panic room filled with emergency provisions including additional weapons, canned food, clean water in jugs and medical provisions.

His brothers-in-arms had scoffed at his paranoia, while Jameson had lauded him for his preparedness. In Arthur's line of work and the fact that he was a member of the group meant he had no shortage of deadly enemies, many of whom he knew would try to strike him where he would lay his head. Better to be ready for any and all contingencies. That was one lesson he agreed with his godfather about his upbringing, one he wished his younger brother had taken to heart.

After their parents died when they were eight, the Morn twins were taken in by their godfather, Isaac Crane, their father's closest friend.

Arthur and Elias were fraternal twins, but their demeanor was as different as night and day. At heart, Arthur was a skilled, steady and disciplined soldier. His every action and every thought was carefully thought out and his early years were dedicated to structure, order and living an ascetic life.

Elias in contrast, was wild, unfocused and carefree. He was happy, in spite of all the hardship they had endured as children and he always wore that bright smile, even in the darkest of times. That was to say, there was a keen intellect and a sharp eyes. Elias had a knack for strategy under all the bravado, but he was (at least in his twin's opinion) a bit too frivolous with his life. There was value in being dismissed by others as a fool, Arthur had to admit, but being so deliberately over-the-top was laying it on thick.

"Master Arthur." Marshal's voice came from behind the door. "Master Jameson has returned."

Arthur sat up. Natural loner or not, Arthur counted Jameson as one of the few true friends he had.

____________________________________________________________


Marshal found Elias in the training courtyard out in the back of the keep in the midst of a sparring session with three of the men at arms, simultaneously. Armed only with a long spear, he kept each of them at bay not only through swift stabs and lunges, but also through wide jumps, flips and other various acrobatics. Almost like a dance, Marshal mused, as he watched Elias pivot and pirouette around the yard, avoiding every attack with flourishes and spins. From the way he was ducking and flipping over every counterstrike, it quickly became obvious that he was only playing with them. Not one of them could touch him, and he wanted them to know it.

For whatever reason, he was hardly putting in any effort, and in Marshal's opinion, it was an unnecessary affectation. He should have simply ended the fight quickly, without expending energy and the performance. It was in a word... distasteful, but more than that, it was impractical.

Just as soon as he finished the thought, Marshal watched as the fair haired young man finished the fight with one wide swing of his spear, knocking all three men to the ground with one well placed, low stroke. Unwisely, all three had lined up in an attempt to attack him at once. In their haste, Elias had taken advantage of their position and tripped the man on the left. His overbalanced flailing knocked into his comrades and sent them all sprawling.

"Well fought, Master Elias." Said Marshal, clapping half-sarcastically, half-truthfully. "But I thought you should know, Master Nathan has returned."

Elias looked over with that trademark grin. "Okay, old timer. I'll be along in a few."

 

[Sir Nathaniel]

The five leaders of the Freedom Fighters came together in their usual spot around the large oak table in the center of the meeting room. Once it might have been a refectory or else what others might think when they heard the term "great hall", but it was not quite as large or as lavishly decorated as it might have been. At the head of the table in a large chair that was not quite a throne sat Nathan, overlooking his brothers as they took their respective seats. To his left was his apprentice, Max and the Fairy Knight, Gale.

Max was wearing a dull-gray shirt and dark brown trousers, watching him with a mix of curiosity and youthful exuberance. Gale on the other hand wore his blue robes that were freshly pressed, to the point where he almost seemed to glow in the light of the sconces. To Nathan's right side were the Morn twins, Arthur and Elias. Fraternal twins, both had fair hair and brown eyes that were flecked with gold. Arthur being the older of the two wore a plain white shirt and brown trousers and kept his shoulder length hair loose.

Elias wore, in addition to his ever-present smile a tan, sleeveless shirt that exposed his muscular arms and, when coupled with the shortened brown breeches allowed him total freedom of movement.

Directly across from him was the group's benefactor, the blacksmith, Eric Haraldson. Not actually a fighter or even a military man, Haraldson had proven a valuable contributor to the Freedom Fighters in other ways. Well connected and exceedingly wealthy because of his ties to arms manufacturing and the trade of magical weaponry, he was the group's main provider of both equipment and funds, most of which he procured himself either from his forge and his workshop or from his personal coffers.

Unlike his more militant peers, Haraldson always wore a well-tailored, three piece suit. For this meeting, he had chosen a black pinstripe with red lining and a matching red tie. It matched well with his long black hair and complimented his dark brown eyes.

While he was waiting for his compatriots to fully assemble, he had his attention on a miniature model of a counterbalance trebuchet of his own design, one that was as functional as the real thing. In his right hand was a tiny wrench that he used to adjust the axle periodically.

"Welcome, my brothers." Said Nathan finally as the last of the men entered the room and stood at attention. "I'm pleased you're all here. Before we begin, have there been any new developments since I've been away?"

"There have." Said Gale. "Max and I fought off an attack by these Abyssal creatures, not a day ago. We lost many to their blades, but we at least bought time."

"And we have captured a live thrall." Max spoke up. "A human male, he is awaiting examination in the keep dungeon."

Nathan stroked his beard, thinking. "And what else have we learned of these creatures?"

"Their attacks do not match any known pattern of warfare we have seen." Said Gale, folding his hands on the table. "They appear at random, striking targets across the coast, seemingly without any strategic intention, only capitulating if there is significant resistance. Otherwise, they simply abduct citizens, likely to try and swell their ranks with fresh thralls."

"Anything else?"

"They appear to have no known means of communication. Any attempts by our psychics to probe their minds have proven impossible. Their minds appear to be... alien, as if the very concept of individual thought is foreign to them."

Nathan leaned back into his chair with a frown. He spoke first to Eric. "Ensure that all the families of the slain receive a gift of compensation for their lost sons and daughters." He turned back to Gale. "How many cities have been attacked in the last day?"

"Exact numbers are unclear, but we believe somewhere in the dozens of smaller towns. Likely, they deliberately limit their attacks to only coastal areas and those close to the sea."

"Facts, Gale." Nathan chided quietly. "Do not speculate."

"At least our home is safe for now." Gale said. "Thanks to the brave efforts of our troops and myself." His face darkened. "But Jameson, there is another matter."

"What?"

"During the fighting, I fought a demon."

Nathan's eyes widened. "An actual demon? Like the ones written in the grimoires?"

Gale nodded. "The very same. It is banished, for now, but without proper demon-slaying blade like your Godsend, I could not kill it."

"You did well to drive it from this world, at least, Gale." Nathan said gently. "But we will discuss the matter another time. For now, we need focus on the primary threat. These... Abyssal. We know little of where they came from or what drives them. That concerns me."

"And what do you propose we do?" Asked Arthur, speaking up at last. "We're barely scraping our forces back together after that little fiasco on the coast."

"Isn't it obvious, brother?" Elias asked, nudging his twin with his elbow and with a smirk. "Nathan intends to go down to the beach and have a nice, quiet chat with them."

Arthur gave his twin an unamused glare. "Can you take this with a modicum of seriousness?"

"Elias is correct, in a way, Arthur." Said Nathan. Everyone turned their heads to him in surprise. "We have in our possession one of the thralls. I say we give it back to them."

Everyone in the room was silent for a long moment as they contemplated just what that meant, but Eric figured it out at once. Another man might think Nathan was insane for what he was saying, but Eric believed him rather clever for it. He tightened another nut on the trebuchet and grinned as he looked up from his working, scanning each of their faces one by one.

"Allow me to explain for you, Jameson." He said aloud as he placed the model on the table. "Rather than letting the enemy come to us, we go to them." He raised a hand and curled into a fist. "...And when we do..."

His fist descended and smashed the trebuchet into pieces with a thunderous crack. Splinters of broken wood, pieces of metal and strings went flying every which way at the force of the impact.

"You make your point quite vividly, Eric." Said Nathan dryly. "But you are right. Gale?"

The Fairy Knight perked up. "Yes, Nathan?"

"This mission will have need of your services." He turned to Arthur. "Does your godfather still have the tracking stone?"

Arthur nodded, having caught on. "He does. I'll contact him at once."

"Master, what about me?" Asked Max. "My blade arm is still strong and if you remember, I was the one who led the defense."

"And you will continue to do so." Said Nathan. "You are to remain here and hold the keep."

Max was not pleased. "But Master, I want to fight. Some of these creatures are as strong as I am. I fought one of them at the beach that was far more formidable than the rest. You need my strength."

"I do indeed. Which is why you are staying here. Your wounds are barely healed, you can't possibly face them again and hope to survive."

Max huffed, his temper starting to flare. "I heal quickly, you know that. You need not fear for my safety."

"I fear for the people of this city, Max." The paladin replied calmly. "Your assignment is just as important as the rest of ours. It's only thanks to you that we have a home to return to."

Despite the kind words, Max's hands clenched the armrest of his chair and the wood began to crack under his frightening strength.

"Calm yourself, Max." Said Elias. "Nathan is right. You're eager to get into a fight, we all understand that, but do you remember the first rule of warfare?"

"Know your enemy." Said Max, his temper cooling somewhat. "And the second rule is to know yourself."

"Precisely." Elias said. "You don't need to prove yourself. You did so quite well in the battle, which is why it's so important you stay, so you can educate the rest of the city's defense forces in case they attack again. You'll know how to beat them if they return."

Max felt his anger bleed away. "Perhaps you're right. Patience might be the better virtue here." His eyebrow twitched despite himself and he felt the urge for just the tiniest bit of pettiness. "I hate it when you quote the Madrassa's teachings to me."

"Which is why I do it." Said Elias cheerfully. "It's always fun to see your reaction."

"That is enough you two." Said Nathan, waving a hand. "If that business is concluded, there's another matter I need to discuss with all of you." He paused a moment for dramatic effect.

"So?" Said Max impatiently. "Tell us already."

"Zasz is dead and the grimoire of souls has been found."