Before the Storm

"Two million? Two million?!"

Tarquis Karn Serlord El Nix, the reigning emperor of the Baharuth Empire, slumped back in his throne with a look of utter mortification. Dark rings hung beneath his eyes, and his otherwise handsome face bore an exhausted visage accentuated by a pair of violet pupils glinting with a weary intellect.

A man garbed in an umber robe stood before the Emperor, both hands folded behind his back in a hunched stance of loyal deference. He had shoulder length hair that was almost completely grey with age, and an equally ashen triangular beard that swayed as he lowered his head to speak:

"I am afraid so, Your Majesty. Our espionage units and administrative staff have been compromised, which was why it took me so long to compile all the information to generate an estimate. Approximately two million of our citizens have disappeared over the past fifty years. I've handed the files to the Resistance for them to investigate the exact details."

The Emperor clenched his fists, feeling his nails digging deep into the flesh of his palms. "What are those fanatics thinking? Political dominance is one thing, but a mass kidnapping on such a scale….the entire population of the Imperial Capital is slightly over a million." he muttered through gritted teeth.

Finally, he sighed, his body relaxing as he turned his gaze towards the man in front of him. "Tell me, Kreshus, was it a mistake for me to have been fighting this fruitless battle for so long? Should I simply bow my head in subservience as my father and grandfather did before me? It seems like no matter how much effort I invest, no matter how many risks I force myself to take….no progress is ever made. All I hear is increasingly depressing news…."

Kreshus looked up to stare intently back into the eyes of the Emperor, the faint lines of age on his face crinkling as he replied in a stalwart voice: "Forgive this old man's impertinent sentimentality, but I have watched over you since you were a babe. Frankly speaking, never could I have imagined that the arrogant little prince from ten years ago would have the backbone to stand up against the Inquisitor. Whichever path you choose to take, I will follow to the end, my Liege."

Emperor Tarquis appeared to scoff, but he felt a sliver of warmth in his heart as he heard the words of his greatest mentor and follower. He gazed up towards a massive painting on the right wall of the room. The individual in the painting looked almost identical to himself, with the same striking purple eyes and handsome face. However, whilst Tarquis had wavy brown hair, this man had hair of lustrous gold.

"I recall that my grandfather Jircniv also had a loyal old retainer like you-a legendary wizard by the name of Fluder Paradyne." mused the Emperor.

Kreshus humbly shook his head. "Please, do not jest. I am but a mere Chamberlain, certainly nothing compared to one of the greatest magic casters this world has ever seen."

Tarquis shrugged. "I suppose the comparison is indeed rather inappropriate. Fluder Paradyne apparently disappeared not so long after the Great Vanquishing, gone by the time Empress Consort Ri Kista Kabelia gave birth to my father. It was around then that my grandfather descended into madness. You, however, have remained by my side all this time."

"Unlike me, my father never had a mentor." he continued, "He grew to become a weak-willed ruler, a pawn of the Inquisitor as she allowed the Cult of the Deathless to seep into every facet of this bureaucracy. I suppose my father's greatest legacy was to appoint you as my teacher…."

Kreshus bowed, his eyes twinkling with a sincere happiness and pride. "And my greatest accomplishment was to accompany the growth of an individual as fine as yourself, Your Majesty."

Tarquis nodded his appreciation, but his expression darkened once again as he turned his gaze away from the portrait. "The extent of my capabilities won't matter if my position is rendered irrelevant. The political powers I wield are growing thinner and thinner by the day, as have the people's respect towards the Imperial Throne. The only thing I can do now is hamstring the Inquisitor's attempts to weed out the Resistance. Perhaps in time, they will eventually be able to-"

The Emperor was interrupted by a loud knock echoing from the large double doors that marked the entrance to the throne room.

"The Inquisitor requests an audience with the Emperor!" yelled the gruff voice of the palace guard stationed outside.

Tarquis rolled his eyes and said nothing, staring silently forward as the doors creaked open. Sure enough, the individual outside proceeded to enter without his permission.

A woman strolled into the throne room, clad in an armored scarlet robe that glistened beneath the light of the great chandeliers above. Woven into the silky red cloth were dark metal plates reinforcing her athletic shoulders and legs, while a pair of sleek clawed gauntlets covered her hands.

Long blond hair ending in a low ponytail flowed behind her in her lofty stride, the golden hue an enchanting complement to the woman's perfect porcelain skin. Most striking of all, however, were the bewitching blood red eyes that now glinted with a chilling intensity.

Tarquis steeled his quivering nerves as the woman approached. While Kreshus was the individual who guided and nurtured him all these years, the individual before him was much the opposite: her very presence had haunted him from the very moment of his conception.

The position of Imperial Inquisitor was introduced two years before the events of the Great Vanquishing, when the Baharuth Empire was still a vassal state of the Sorcerer Kingdom. Emboldened by the support of Theocracy agents, the Temples of the Empire had conspired to revolt against Imperial rule, and the position was installed by the Sorcerer Kingdom as their representative to coordinate response measures.

The revolt was swiftly and brutally put down, but the position remained to this day, expanding and evolving throughout the next generation. Now, the official responsibility of the Imperial Inquisitor was to oversee the eradication of all opposition to Imperial authority.

And for all these 102 years, the same individual occupied that seat of power:

Leinas Rockbruise, Second Adherent of the Blood Valkyrie.

The Emperor managed to keep his voice steady as he spoke: "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Inquisitor?"

The Vampire narrowed her crimson gaze as a flash of irritation flickered upon her otherwise impassive features.

"Traces of the Clearwater Scripture have been detected within our borders. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this would you, Your Majesty?"

Tarquis blinked in surprise, tilting his head slightly to look at Kreshus, who also shook his head in a confused gesture. This was something neither of them had any knowledge of.

The Emperor's mind raced as he considered the implications of the High Inquisitor's words. Suppressing the Resistance and corrupting the Imperial administration was one thing, but even the likes of the Deathless could ill afford drawing the direct scrutiny of the Slane Theocracy. If Tarquis himself could find a way to bypass the Inquisitor and reach out to the Theocracy spies, perhaps he could even enlist their help in combating the Cult's encroachment.

However, despite the tumultuous thoughts in his head, Tarquis maintained a solemn expression as he brusquely replied: "The Clearwater Scripture? Why would I know anything about the operations of the Slane Theocracy's spies?"

A long silence ensued as neither party made any further motion to speak. The Inquisitor merely stared forward, her blood red pupils boring into the Emperor's unwavering face. Tarquis stared back with a quiet resolve, his casual slouch straightening into the regal stature of a true monarch.

"Is that so…." Leinas finally broke her gaze, turning instead to glance briefly at Kreshus, her face an unreadable mask.

"Chamberlain, I hear you've been embarking on quite a few nightly excursions throughout the past few weeks. I do hope everything is well? The Emperor hasn't been working you too hard, has he?" She spoke in a soft, conversational tone, but the two men felt a sudden chill run down their spine as if beset by a spectral grasp.

"Ah, thank you for your concern, Inquisitor. These old bones have been craving a good old nightly stroll lately, that's all." Kreshus carefully replied, bowing his head to avoid meeting Leinas's piercing gaze. His facial expression and voice remained calm and composed, but Kreshus felt the exaggerated thumping of his nervous heart as he registered the gravity of the Vampire's words.

It was one thing for Leinas Rockbruise to know about his snooping around regarding the missing citizens, but if she somehow managed to track his movements during his correspondence with the Resistance agents…..

The Vampire's face revealed nothing, her pale face as inscrutable as a blank piece of parchment. But suddenly, for the briefest moment, a vicious gleam sparkled beneath her scarlet pupils as she raised her right gauntlet. The Emperor and his Chamberlain both sensed an incredible aura of danger erupt from the silent Inquisitor, and Kreshus in particular felt paralysed as if caught in the gaze of a basilisk.

Tarquis abruptly stood up in panic, a plea or protest on the verge of erupting from his lips. But just as he was about to speak, the aura dissipated immediately.

Leinas merely brought her hand up to her forehead, brushing away a strand of her golden hair that had drooped down before her left eye. Kreshus stood frozen in place, pale in fright but otherwise unharmed. She shifted her gaze back towards the emperor.

"Ah, excuse me. That strand of hair reminded me of a more unpleasant time in my life, so I had to take care of it. I apologise for my lack of etiquette."

Her words carried with them an almost apologetic tone, but Tarquis did not miss the hanging threat of her previous gesture. He watched with a grimace as the Vampire turned and strode back towards the double doors, gliding across the floor with a warrior's grace.

"Know this." she said suddenly upon reaching the doors. "The massacre you perpetrated against your siblings may have left you as the sole heir, but do not mistake our tolerance for concession. Once the last vestiges of your authority have been stripped away, you will become disposable."

She turned her head slightly to look at him, laying her gauntleted hand upon the smooth texture of fine mahogany as she continued: "The Theocracy cannot save you. Nor will the Resistance you so obstinately insist on protecting. For all your paltry courage and intellect, you fail to see that there is only one path to prosperity. If you lack the foresight to lead the Empire on that path, then I will do so in your place."

With an effortless push, the double doors swung open and Leinas Rockbruise exited the room.

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Gondo Firebeard lowered the mallet in his hand to look up at the sight of a dwarf entering the vicinity of his forge.

He squinted, his sulphurous eyes narrowing as he tried to remember the name of the visiting dwarf. His only visitors were the workers responsible for delivering him his supplies, and for the past several decades there were few who came to keep him company. Not that he was lonely, of course; how could he be when he toiled perpetually under the shadow of the individual that was his entire world?

However, as he examined the approaching dwarf's great black beard and stern features, a name gradually surfaced from the back of his mind.

Gondo's face perked up as he recalled the name and station of the newcomer. The past one hundred years had made it quite a hassle to remember all the bits and details, as it all seemed to muddle together over time.

But he still remembered this Gazim fellow. Gondo recalled Hejinmal dragging him out of the forge a few decades ago to publicly recognise Gazim as the new Commander-In-Chief. Interestingly enough, Gazim had been incredibly intimidated upon seeing him. Come to think of it, most of the dwarves now seemed to share that fearful sentiment towards him.

He stroked his beard, lowering his gaze to see what had once been a mundane, tawny color now the grim shade of burnt umber. Permanent embers flickered about the edges of his beard with an aesthetic that he admittedly found rather pleasing.

He glanced at the face reflected upon the well-polished mallet he held in his right hand. Two eyes that glowed like infernal coals stared back at him atop a haggard face covered in soot and ash from countless years of non-stop Runecrafting.

Hmm...now that he thought about it...he did have a rather intimidating appearance.

"Ahem." Gazim suddenly coughed as he saw the Fireborn's attention begin to seemingly drift away. "Forgemaster, my sincerest apologies for disturbing you from your work. However, there has been some...contention from certain parties in the Dominion regarding one of your decisions."

Gondo blinked in surprise, his blazing eyes flickering like the rekindling of hellish twin flames. The Commander-In-Chief winced, mistaking Gondo's confused blinking for the offended visage of a fiery monster.

But the Fireborn was none the wiser, still trying to make sense of Gazim's words. Gondo hardly ever made any decisions; all the political stuff was left to his "subordinates." His calling in life was Runecraft, and that was all he ever did these days. The Runecraft equipment used by the Deathless were almost exclusively crafted by him, and his...transformation allowed him to toil away day and night in an eternal quest to expand the arsenal of the Sorcerer King's legacy.

Gazim, worried that he'd angered the Fireborn, rushed to elaborate on his words: "Ah, please do not misunderstand, my lord! None of us are so foolish as to question your wisdom. However, Elder Regent Riyuro believes that it would be prudent to give the Frost Giants a chance to redeem themselves. Their contributions as a military and labor force would be a great boon for the Dominion of the Deep."

Hearing this, Gondo perked up as he finally realised what the other dwarf was referring to. Indeed, he had made one such order quite a while ago.

"Ah, the Frost Giants, is it? I'm afraid there is no room for discussion. They are all to be killed." replied Gondo in a neutral voice.

A conflicted expression emerged on the Commander-In-Chief's face as Gondo delivered his blunt response. While Gazim had been expecting the answer, it wouldn't do for him to return empty handed.

"Forgive me, but is there truly no other way?" he pressed. "Perhaps some form of enslavement or-"

"Commander-In-Chief." interrupted the Fireborn in a quiet voice, "What is the crime of the Frost Giants?"

"I suppose...treason?" Gazim meekly replied.

"What does it mean for one to commit treason against the God that is Ainz Ooal Gown?" Gondo asked again, tilting his head upward towards the ceiling and the statue above it.

The Commander-In-Chief gave a solemn nod, silently accepting the subtle decree in the Fireborn's words.

"Death." he answered.

But Gondo shook his head.

"Damnation."