Realm of Monsters

Authors Note:

I posted this on ROM's discord last night, but I just wanted to let you all know here as well. I tested positive for covid yesterday. Today I woke up feeling a little better and kept trying to write. I'll try to keep a consistent schedule these next few days, but I can't make any promises.

Thank you for understanding,

~Frostbird

Gilgard glanced around the spacious infirmary room and its polished floors and pristine white walls. Countless gifts lay at the foot of Veronica’s large silk-covered bed and an abundance of flowers sat on the table next to her. The luxury of it all was strange to him.

Gilgard had grown up under the watchful eye of the most powerful woman in the eastern lands, his grandmother. She was the previous head of the family, and through strict training, she had raised and molded her son into the powerful and feared Warlord of the East. Time and old age had not changed her mindset whatsoever. She raised Gilgard and his siblings in the same way.

Even now, a few years after his grandmother’s death, Gilgard felt at odds as he looked around Veronica’s infirmary room. Being surrounded by flowers and silk made him feel… uncomfortable.

Veronica sighed loudly and crossed her arms, “What are you doing here now?”

Gilgard returned to his senses at the sound of her voice. He glanced at the bouquet of water hyacinths in his hands and looked up at Veronica with a half-hearted smile, “I thought I might bring you some flowers.”

Veronica looked pointedly at the pale purple flowers sitting in a vase next to her, “You brought me hyacinths yesterday and the day before and the one before that too.”

He blinked, “You remembered their name?”

“Turns out Plum knows a lot about flowers. She was rattling on about them before you came.”

“Plum? The friend you’re always talking about? Was that the drow who just left? She seems nice.”

“She’s a lot of things. Composed, smart, not very funny though, and she’s super strict at the most inconvenient times… but she always has my back, so yeah, I guess she’s nice.”

Gilgard listened to her speak and busied himself putting the new water hyacinths in a vase amongst the rest of the menagerie of flowers. He worked quietly and with deft hands. He finished in a mere moment and smiled at his own work, “There, perfect.”

“I liked yesterday’s flower more.”

“Really?”

“No, I can’t tell the difference between them,” she said flatly.

“Ah, well, there’s always a first for everything.”

“Yeah, like getting stabbed in the stomach,” she lifted her shirt and revealed the white bandages wrapped around her abdomen.

Gilgard winced, “I really am sorry about that. I did my best to avoid any vital organs.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he sat down next to her bed in comfortable silence. Veronica’s white hair was woven in a single large braid that rested over her shoulder. Her grey skin seemed warm, not like the pale pallid look she had the first few days after their duel.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“Preferably the truth.”

“...Even if it hurts?”

“Especially if it hurts.”

Veronica looked at him thoughtfully, her blue eyes studied his face as if it were some sort of canvas on display. “...Your next match is today, isn’t it?”

“In a few hours, yes.”

“Against the drow from Frost Rim? Nalla?”

“So it seems.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Gilgard leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window, “Conflicted.”

“Because you’re scared? You don’t want to fight her? No one would blame you. I don’t think anyone wants to fight that girl and her mysterious giant sword.”

“No, that’s not it,” he shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d be a fool if I didn't have a healthy amount of fear and caution towards that black sword of hers, especially if it really is made of orichalcum. But fear is a good thing, it keeps you alive. That is, so long as you do not let the fear hold you back.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I’m a Morrigan. Fighting is in my blood, cowardice is not.”

“And yet you feel conflicted.”

Gilgard sighed, “...I’ve never seen anything like Nalla’s sword before. The way it commanded the wind was…”

“Terrifying,” Veronica recalled quietly.

Gilgard clasped his hands tight, “...It was absolute. She had complete and utter control of the situation. Your friend Heather couldn’t do anything but stand still in defeat. My magic… can’t defeat that all-encompassing power.”

“So you’re gonna lose, is that it?” Veronica frowned, “Don’t tell me you’re going to give up before the fight begins. I fought you knowing full well what the outcome would be.”

“I have no intention of losing,” he said adamantly.

“But…?”

“There is a way… A way I can hold my own against Nalla and her sword.”

“You mean Feather?”

Gilgard closed his eyes tight, “...Yes.”

Veronica nodded in understanding, “The Bone Claymore, the Fang of Fraxinus, the ancestral weapon of the Great House of Morrigan, the legendary Feather itself.”

“You know the stories well,” he whispered.

“I know the only sword to match Feather in power was said to be the blood sword Krikolm and House Veres lost their scarlet blade long ago. With Feather in hand, I don’t see you losing against any swordsman.”

“But the stories never mentioned a black blade that could stop the winds themselves, did they? For all I know, Feather’s power could fall short against Nalla’s weapon.”

“Maybe. But if there’s any sword that can defeat Nalla, it’s Feather.”

“Still…”

Veronica narrowed her eyes, “You don’t want to use Feather, do you?”

“...It’s my father’s weapon and it was my grandmother’s before him. I’m in this tournament to show the people of Murkton that I am different from the previous lords of my House, that House Morrigan can change. But if I take Feather then am I really any different?”

Veronica clicked her tongue, “Sometimes I really want to slap that stupid handsome face of yours.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Not the point, idiot. Now listen up, because I’ll only say this once. You are a Morrigan. No one has nor will ever think otherwise. You can’t run away from that.”

Gilgard sighed deeply, “...Is that so…?”

“But! I’ve never met a Morrigan who spared their enemy. In fact, no one has. Don’t you see? You already are different. Using Feather won’t change that.”

“But–”

“You asked me how I felt? You want to know the truth?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Gilgard nodded earnestly.

Veronica smiled wryly, “...When I first came to after our duel, my parents were there waiting for me, right here in this room. And you know what they said? They said they were sorry for making me fight. All I felt when I heard those words… was anger.”

“What?” Gilgard looked at her in surprise.

She chuckled bitterly, “Even now, being stuck in this silly room, I feel tired, bored, but most of all I feel angry. I’m angry at myself! Because I chose to care more about what my parents wanted from me than my own survival. I put my own life at risk to please them and a society that expected me to fight for something as stupid as honor! Don’t you get it!? Who cares what anyone else thinks!? You’re Gilgard Morrigan and you, only you, get to choose who Gilgard Morrigan is. So fuck anyone else who says otherwise.”

Gilgard felt the sudden urge to kiss her, but he knew that was the wrong thing to say, so he simply said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I know,” she smirked.

~~~

Plum waited in the hallway outside Veronica’s room. It had been a few minutes since Gilgard had gone inside and though Plum couldn’t hear their voices she couldn’t hear any screams for help either, so she supposed things were going well.

“Good luck,” Plum whispered with a smile. She left and walked down the hall with a spring in her step. As she turned the corner she came face to face with a heavily armored orc. 

“Watch it,” he growled and placed his hand over the hilt of his blade.

Plum stopped abruptly and backpedaled a few steps,  “S-sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly. Now turn around and leave.”

“Um, okay,” Plum nodded, confused. 

Judging from the orc’s high-quality armor, he was clearly an elite guard stationed here to protect Gilgard. So why was he telling her to go back towards the room where Gilgard was inside?

“What’s going on, soldier?” a feminine voice called out.

“Just some drow who lost her way. Sorry for the commotion, Miss Gale,” the guard answered politely before he turned around. The orc suddenly stood at attention, “I’m sorry, my Aspirant, I didn’t notice your presence!”

Aspirant?

Plum leaned her head past the guard and spotted an elegant vampiress standing in the middle of the hallway. She had pale skin, high cheekbones, and a pair of white fangs that slightly protruded from her half-open thin red lips. She had lustrous golden hair that reached down to her waist, where her longsword rested on her black leather belt. The vampiress’ bright scarlet eyes spotted Plum in an instant.

“You there, come forward. Who are you?” Gale snapped with the voice of a commander.

Plum nodded hesitantly and stepped out from behind the guard’s shadow. Plum gasped softly. She had heard the title, she had suspected, and yet she was still surprised to see a short young man with striking lilac eyes standing next to the graceful vampiress.

“What’s your name, girl?” Gale demanded.

“Her name is Plumela,” Stryg said calmly.