Rebirth of the Nephilim

“Grandfather, will we go to see the Succubus today?”

Somerulf looked up from the stack of papers arrayed across the polished wooden tray that lay propped across his lap. The reports on the fluctuating cost of glass had held his attention for some time and switching his attention to his granddaughter’s question took him a moment. The “airships” that Lady Jadis and the revolutionary craftswoman Sabina had brought into the world were already having a significant impact on the economy, especially with how Margrave Einer Aedraheill was taking full advantage of his connection to Jadis through his daughter, Eir. The shipments from his territory were drastically affecting the balance of supply and demand in the capital and surrounding regions. Somerulf could only imagine how different the economic landscape would look in ten years’ time.

Dragging his thoughts away from such dry topics, Somerulf beckoned Astra to come closer. The little girl stood from where she had been sitting on a stool, practicing her letters and numbers in the old tongue with the small book he had given her last fall. Coming to the side of his bed, she politely stood at perfect attention, displaying the poise and grace of a fine young noblewoman.

Clicking his tongue, he motioned forward again and, with a grin, Astra crawled up onto the bed threw her arms around his neck, knocking several stacks of papers away in the process.

Hugging his beloved granddaughter, Somerulf patted her gently before setting her a small space away so that he could properly see her face.

“I had no such plans for this day,” he said while giving Astra a questioning look. “What causes you to ask after Lady Jadis’ child?”

“Mother says that Lady Jadis and Lady Alex are very important,” Astra explained with a child’s confidence. “They are doing great things in the world, like making airships and fighting Demons with the Hero. Mother said that we should make connections with Lady Jadis’ children because it will strengthen the empire.”

“Your mother is a wise woman,” Somerulf nodded. He had held similar conversations with Lynn in the past, though he had not realized that Astra had absorbed so much information already. “However, it would not be proper to visit a child when both parents are away from home. Jadis and Alex are far away, in Volto. Do you remember where Volto is?”

“Yes,” Astra nodded. “To the north and west.”

“Good. They are in Volto, fighting the Demons who have invaded there. I do not believe you will visit the young Hope until they return, which may not be for many weeks or months still.”

Astra frowned but nodded in understanding.

“Is it true that Lady Alex is a Demon?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, not at all surprised by the innocent question. “But she had proven herself to be a good Demon. She does not follow Samleos, as the Demon Lord and the rest of his merciless children do.”

Astra thought about his answer, ruminating on the meaning of his explanation. That was one of the things about his lovely granddaughter that made Somerulf’s chest swell with pride. She was a clever girl, intelligent, always thinking. Other children her age were prone to throwing tantrums or making a fuss when they didn’t understand something or when they were given a command that they did not agree with. Not Astra. She thought things through, asking questions to understand more. Sometimes too many questions, but Somerulf did not like to discourage her curiosity.

“What about the Demon that is on trial for murder? Is she a good Demon?”

Curious indeed. When, exactly, had Astra heard about that? The business with the Cobbler Demon was not something that a child needed to concern themselves with, and Somerulf doubted that Lynn would have brought the topic up around her children. Nor would the servants. Which meant her father had been speaking of the Demon and the upcoming trial. That, too, was not a surprise, though Somerulf had hoped that his son would have more sense than to hold such conversations around his inquisitive daughter.

“I do not know the character of that Demon,” he finally replied after a few seconds of thought. “But I am willing to extend amnesty, considering what I understand of the circumstances. However, for the sake of the people, a trial will proceed.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Somerulf echoed. “Well, there are those among the populace that believe the Cobbler Demon is an evil Demon because she killed a man. If I were to summarily pardon her, there are those who would question my judgement on the matter, even with a royal decree. It is better to follow the laws and allow the magistrate to hold a trial, which will be public, and allow all to see that the same justice is enacted upon the Demon as would be done upon any of them under the same circumstances. The people will see that the ruling is fair and that all action has been performed with honor and honesty. Do you understand?”

Again, Astra frowned, but eventually her face cleared and she nodded in agreement.

“Yes, I think so. It’s like when Nana cuts the cake in front of me and Wulfsige, to show that the sizes she is giving us are the same size.”

“Very good,” he smiled and patted Astra’s cheek. “Very good, my dear.”

The praise brought a smile from the little girl, but as always happened, a further question.

“Are the rest of the Demons that father and the Hero are fighting going to be given trials, too?”

“No,” Somerulf shook his head. “No, there will be no trial for them. For that is war, the never-ending war, and in wars we do not have the luxury of trials. Only actions. The Demon Lord and the Spawn of Samleos have come to destroy everything, just as they have always done and just as they always will do. And by the same token, good men and women will rise to stop them, just as the Hero is chosen by the Gods to do battle against them. That is the cycle, and while we may wish differently, it does not end.”

Somerulf fell silent, having spoken more of his thoughts than he had intended in that moment of honesty.

“You fought the Demon Lord when you were young, with the Hero Alfarr, didn’t you?” she asked, taking the opening for more of her questions. “And father is fighting a Demon Lord today, with the Hero Wilhelm. Will I fight a Demon Lord when I grow up?”

“No,” he squeezed her shoulder. “No, you will not. Put such ideas out of your mind, it is not a worry you need to have.”

Somerulf regretted saying so much to his granddaughter. She was a clever girl, but still just a child. Astra was too young to bear the burden of such heavy thoughts. Gods willing, she should never need to know them at all except as a matter of study and history. The Demon Lord’s invasion should be ended by the Hero soon, long before Astra was old enough to become involved, and then, whether she one day reigned as empress or remained a princess in favor of another sibling, her rule would not suffer another invasion. Her rule, gods willing, should be one of peace. Such a sweet child should never have to grow up to make the same decisions that he had.

“Let me tell you a story,” Somerulf said and, pushing the tray out of the way, he pulled Astra to his right side so that she could share his many pillows. “I will tell you of the time that I fought a great Demon army that had besieged the Castle Highrock, and how the Hero and I defeated a mighty Demon Matriarch all by ourselves.”

“I like that story,” Astra grinned. “Will you do the voices?”

“I will do the voices.”

Some time later, just as Somerulf had begun retelling the part where the castle parapets had fallen and pinned his legs in the rubble while Alfarr was trapped inside the Demon Matriarch’s mouth, the polite knock of a servant came from the door.

“Enter,” he called, guessing that Lynn had returned from Ulya’s temple with Wulfsige and Kori and would thus had come to collect Astra.

“Your majesty,” Auber bowed his head as he entered. “Lady Jadis has arrived at the palace and is requesting an audience. She claims to carry an urgent message for you, my lord.”

Lady Jadis? Somerulf blinked at the unexpected news, his carefully crafted composure too ingrained to slip entirely, though he did take a moment to collect his thoughts. Receiving news from Volto was not unexpected; Wilhelm had been sending letters regularly, by both Seraphim and by airship. He also knew that the battle against Kastoria should have begun, if not yesterday then certainly by that morning. Had something happened? Was the battle over already? Were they victorious? Or had the catastrophic occurred? That Lady Jadis had come herself to deliver an urgent message rather than a courier did little to settle Somerulf’s worries.

“Bring her here,” he commanded. “I will see her right away.”

“Here, your majesty?” Auber asked, his old brow raised in surprise.

“Yes, here,” Somerulf repeated. “If the matter is urgent, I will not leave her waiting for a proper visitation in the throne room. Just bring her here.”

A desire for expediency was part of the truth, but not all of it, and Somerulf was sure that his old seneschal could guess the true reason for himself. Somerulf’s back had been hurting him for years, the pain only growing worse with time. The healers could only do so much, the problem stemming from age and not injury. The past few days had been particularly difficult, which was why he had elected to see to his paperwork while in bed that morning, rather than at his desk as was his usual habit. Seeing the Nephilim while he was lying under covers, his back propped up by pillows, was not the most dignified of positions, but Somerulf didn’t much care for such proprieties in his old age. The truth was, he was an old man, and a little comfort meant more to him than noble etiquette.

“May I stay?” Astra chirped, looking hopefully between him and Auber. “I would like to meet the Nephilim!”

“Not today,” Somerulf replied gently as he patted her on her shoulder. “This is a matter of nations, not a social visitation. Auber, please escort Astra to her rooms.”

While she pouted, his granddaughter was well behaved enough not to argue or complain. Instead, she obediently took Auber’s hand and was led out the door, where she would be delivered into the hands of the maids and nurses who tended to Hraustrekr and Lynn’s quarters in the palace. At the same time, several more servants hurried into his room and quickly straightened the bed covers and tidied his papers. Somerulf privately chuckled at their panic; his room was already spotless thanks to his habits and their dedicated efforts, but if some deficiency in the cleanliness of his private quarters was seen by an outsider, they would take the shame to their hearts with the same dishonor as a knight failing to defeat a rival in combat. That was simply their way, as it had always been their way even when he had been Astra’s age, so Somerulf did not argue.

In a short while, after the servants had fled the room, the door opened again. With a polite bow, Auber led Lady Jadis into the room.

Somerulf immediately noticed how damaged the Nephilim’s armor was. In their past meetings, the woman had not been allowed to wear her armor or bear her arms in his presence, but he still knew what her equipment looked like, or should look like. Her weapons had still been removed and would be held by the guards outside, but she had just flown from a battlefield and come straight to him and thus had not had time to change. Or fix what had been broken, it seemed.

There were dents, gouges, scratches, and cuts all over the black metal. There were no stains, as it was clear that Jadis had taken the time to clean her gear before coming, but there were holes with ragged, bent edges where her armor had been punctured and blood would have been drawn. Most disturbingly, one of Jadis’ bodies was missing all of the armor below the elbow of her right arm. Whatever had made it so that the armor there could not be worn had to have been a grievous wound, though there was no sign of harm on the Nephilim currently.

The three bodies of Lady Jadis bowed to him, helmets removed so that he could see her faces. The identical expressions on her beautiful faces were calm, perhaps even happy, though she was not grinning brightly as he had seen her do in the past. He was almost glad for the absence of the grin, as even he in his old age was not immune to the charm of the alluring Nephilim when she expressed her joy.

“Emperor Somerulf,” the one in the middle said, breaking protocol by speaking first. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“I’m also sorry I didn’t come to you right away,” the body on the left added. “I dropped Alex off at the compound first, so she could be with Hope for a little while before we continue south.”

He didn’t bother correcting Jadis on her lack of etiquette. There was little point to it, at least in private. Her words were of greater interest than her manners, anyway.

“Greetings, Lady Jadis. Tell me, what do you mean, continue south? If I recall correctly, you already traveled south to Weigrun a week ago, did you not? What prompts you to return again so quickly? Or is your destination elsewhere?”

She looked surprised that he knew about her journey to Weigrun. The letter from the Hero had told him of the event, and that the result had been some kind of ancient weapon retrieved from a dragon’s hoard. He was tempted to ask the guard to bring the weapon in, so that he could see the weapon for himself, but restrained the impulse.

“I guess you heard about that. Well, there was something I forgot to do down there, so I have to fly down there and go speak with the Dragon Vetregin again before I forget again and Villthyrial gets mad at me.”

Truly, Jadis had such a casual way of delivering utterly outrageous explanations.

“But that’s besides the point. I came here to deliver a message to you.”

“About Kastoria?” Somerulf asked, one eyebrow raised. “Does the battle go well? Or has it not started?”

“It’s basically over already,” the Jadis on the right admitted, once more announcing a significant event with an odd casualness. “We’re still cleaning up the lesser Demons, but we’ve destroyed all of the major defenses, killed or driven away the biggest threats, and taken the city.”

“Here, I have reports for you,” the Jadis on the left held up a thick bundle of papers that had been tied together. “Wilhelm, Severina, and Aila wrote a lot of those, but I think there’s a letter in there from General Salvius, too.”

“And also, a letter from Sabina, but that one isn’t about the battle,” the center Jadis further explained as the bundle was delivered into his hands. “She, uh, just wanted to let you know that she has an idea for better ships. Water ships, not airships, and she wants you to sponsor the making of one of those ships.”

“I see…”

“You don’t have to respond to her about that one right away,” Jadis stated, her tone somewhat embarrassed. “She’s pretty distracted right now with a lot of ideas.”

“I am certain,” Somerulf said mildly as he set the bundle down on top of the tray that straddled his lap.

So, it was good news that Lady Jadis had brought. Wonderful news. If Kastoria had been retaken, that meant that the only demonic stronghold on the northern shores of the central continent had been removed. The number of Demons flooding the land would drop significantly, thus bringing them all one step closer to defeating the Demon Lord and his forces. Entire armies could be repositioned from the Voltonian border to the border the empire shared with the Rubaline Dominion. In truth, with so many soldiers moved to the southwestern front, there would be no further excuse for not pushing into the Demon-infested lands.

Or would his son think of another reason to avoid open battle?

Somerulf brushed the unworthy thought aside. Hraustrekr was no coward. He was, at his heart, a good man. Perhaps a little too alike to his father in his youth at times, sharing a temper that had gotten them both into trouble a few times, but he was all the same a good man, a good son, and he would be a good ruler one day soon. He only needed more time. More experience. A better understanding of what it meant to be a Hero. An understanding that the Nephilim who stood before him shared with young Wilhelm.

If only Hraustrekr would open his eyes and ears to follow in their example.

“Anyway, that isn’t the reason why I came to see you.”

“It is not?” Somerulf asked, surprised yet again by the new admission.

“I mean, that’s all important news,” the center Jadis said, her happy grin causing an old heart to flutter. “But I actually have a different message that I promised to deliver to you.”

“I… can’t go into all of the details,” the left Jadis said, her expression turning somber. “But Jocelyn performed an oracle ritual for me, Alex, and Wilhelm. We visited Valtar’s Halls.”

“Again, sorry we took all three questions from you, but they were really important questions,” the rightmost Jadis cut in.

“I promise, we’ll explain all of that to you as well, later,” the center Jadis continued. “Willy and I have been working out how to approach that topic… Anyway, while we were in Valtar’s Halls, I spoke with someone there other than Valtar.”

“You spoke with someone other than Valtar?” Somerulf asked, his surprise only growing by the second. “Someone… who has passed on?”

“Yes.”

He had never heard of such a thing before. He had not known that it was even possible. Communing with those who had left the mortal world for the thereafter was not typical of an Oracle’s power. They were meant to commune with the Gods, not the souls of the dead. Somerulf supposed that there were examples in history of questions being asked by Oracles and High Priests that involved the dead, and answers coming from those who had passed on through the Gods, but from what Jadis had explained, it did not seem as though that was what had happened. This message had come from one who had entered Valtar’s Halls, without a question asked.

And the message was for him?

“So, it’s sort of blunt,” Jadis warned. “But considering the source, I think you’ll probably be okay with it.”

“Please, proceed,” Somerulf encouraged the young woman to continue. “What message do you bear, and from whom does it come?”

All three of Lady Jadis took a breath together, then spoke as one.

“Alfarr wanted me to tell you this. He said, ‘Tell that wolf pup that I fought by the side of a man of action, not petty words! I’m waiting for him, and Siri is, too. He better come to us with his head held high, knowing that he did the right thing.’”

The silence that fell between them was a long one. After a time, Jadis shifted uncomfortably, her armor plates clanking together.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Somerulf said, his voice rougher with emotion than he was used to. “Yes, I am. Thank you for passing on his message. I am in your debt.”

“It’s no problem,” Jadis smiled at him, her expression kind. “I’m glad I had the opportunity to do it.”

“Anyway, do you mind if we get out of your hair?” the Jadis on the right asked. “We’ve got a long way to go yet today, and then we have to fly all the way back to Volto tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course,” Somerulf nodded somewhat numbly. “I… please stop here in Eldingholt on your way back from Weigrun tomorrow. I will have letters for you to take with you to Volto.”

“Sure thing,” Jadis grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Farewell,” Somerulf dismissed her.

The quiet in the room was disturbed only once after Jadis left, when Auber ducked his head in to check on him. Somerulf waved him away, uninterested in any of his questions or offerings. It wasn’t until hours later, after the sun’s light had left the windows and his room had fallen to a state of gloomy darkness that he moved again.

Fingers brushed over the bundle of letters that Jadis had delivered, then firmly grasped them. With a push of his will, the enchanted sconces in the room brightened, giving him better light to see by. However, instead of opening the package right away, Somerulf shifted to the edge of the bed, forcing his aching back to straighten as he got to his feet. The pain threatened to buckle his spine, but he pushed through, wincing only once. With another exertion of his will, a spell carried his silver staff from its stand to his hand. Refusing to use it as a crutch, Somerulf strode over to his desk, where he set the bundle down. Using a knife to cut the string and break the seal on the topmost letter, he cast another small spell that caused the bell to ring, summoning his servants.

“Yes, your majesty?” Auber asked as he entered the room.

“Is general Jorvald still in the capital?”

“Yes, my lord,” the seneschal answered, too well trained to look confused by the question. “He arrived last week and will be returning to the western border in four days.”

“Send for him immediately,” Somerulf commanded, his tone more like it had been a hundred years ago. “As well as my sons, and any other generals who may be taking their leisure in the capital. Tell them I will meet with them in the Eagle’s Hall in one hour.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Auber bowed again, an edge of his fluster showing through his perfect mask.

“Oh, and Auber,” Somerulf said before his servant had fully turned away to do his bidding. “Make sure to fetch my old battle robes. I will need to grow used to their weight on my shoulders once again.”

“…Yes, your majesty.”

As Auber went on his way, Somerulf opened the first letter and saw Wilhelm’s familiar scrawl. He smiled, glad to see that the young Hero’s penmanship was improving with regular practice. His smile widened at the thought of the human’s face, at the expression that he might display when they saw each other next. Would he be as excited as Somerulf felt in that moment? He hoped so. Wilhelm wasn’t Alfarr, but he was a good man, a man of action, a Hero.

It would be good to fight side by side with a Hero one more time.