The Fall

  **Artefact №**: GR-20

  **Artefact Class**: Red Dragon

  **Artefact Description: A golden ring with a smooth surface engraved with symbols that mean REDACTED. The artefact is called the "Norn Ring" after the coven of witches who originally owned it. The ring allows the user to unite and control the minds of those who possess the will. It can also REDACTED.

  **Current location of the artefact: DELETED

  - "Artefact Catalogue #8”

  ~ ~ ~

  "I need to get married soon before all the women are taken," Thorn said, taking the steaming mug from Quote. "I had such an interesting dream last night, definitely because of all the new women piling into the clan."

  "Just don't measure them in piles while they're around, or you won't have much luck," Waterman sipped his hot water, making a vague sound of satisfaction from drinking.

  A group of Worldedge men sat on the rocks that had been prepared for their future homes, warming themselves by the fire and drinking hot water. Quote, red-haired and young, a former tavern owner from Capital, was handing out mugs of boiled snow to maintain his skills. Wolves had promised him the largest building in the centre of the settlement once the innkeeper showed him the seeds of plants that could be used to make alcohol. But really, Wolves is not the leader, and was he ever a leader before? But every group of people has its own quirks, and the the leader's position hanging in an incomprehensible pose is not the worst of them.

  "Funnily enough, I had an interesting dream too, if I understand you correctly, I'm telling you," Storyteller said thoughtfully.

  "Me too," Beard supported him.

  "The same," said Holiday, a former slave.

  "And so have I," deciding that the critical mass of confessors had been reached and it was time to unite with them, Quagmire. "And I lived in Capital, the city of women, and there was nothing like it. Maybe it's the lack of outer walls that bothers my blood."

  "Friends, it's just that spring has begun in our souls," suggested Quote, brushing the snow from his flat-top cap with its rolled-up brim. "We are full of hope as we begin our lives on blank parchment. After all, all can be well with our new home."

  "You're one of those 'mug half full' people," Thorn said without approval.

  "I sell filled mugs," Quote said with a smile. "And half full ones sell better than half empty ones. Oh, I'd like to tell you a story, but I'd rather save it for a more appropriate time."

  "What are you talking about, boys?" Merchant, who had approached them unnoticed, brushed the snow from the pile of stones they had occupied and sat down in the vacant seat.

  They decided to make the first house they built a communal one. Dwarf held the stones together with some kind of viscous mixture that Merchant didn't want to think about because (coincidentally or not) some of the giant slugs (bred in Capital for some unknown purpose and now in Worldedge) had noticeably decreased in volume. She left her charges in the house on Crushy, the daughter of her friend Moose, and went to relax. And the first thing she saw that looked like relaxing was men sitting and drinking.

  The reference to 'boys' was not entirely a joke, as it turned out, for most of them began to look away, and some even decided it was time to learn to whistle (out of any tune). These were older boys, self-educated at best.

  "About... Ahem. About dreams, Merchant. I'm telling you," said the oldest boy, Storyteller.

  "And you, dear Merchant, have no interesting dreams?" Quote (ignoring the stares that were fixed on him, as if they wanted to tell him something wordlessly) handed the woman a half-full mug of steaming water.

  She took it, but decided not to drink it, but to warm her hands:

  "Dreams are supposed to be interesting. What's good about boring dreams?" Merchant grinned. "But I haven't had a dream for a long time. I get so tired during the day and part of the night that I fall straight into the morning."

  "What do you think of our old-new ruler Rexana?" Quote again ignored the stares that were even more sharply fixed on him (and someone even gave a strangled hush).

  "She still hasn't taken a characterizing name. That is against the principles of our clan," the woman grimaced and decided to take a sip, after which she coughed. "Boiling water? A group of men gossiping among themselves, picking women to pieces, and drinking plain water? What is the world coming to? Oh, right..."

  Quote spread his hands guiltily:

  "I only have alcohol in the form of seeds, which must first germinate, give fruit, ferment and finally provide blood for my tavern. Which, by the way, is not yet built. And now it's still winter, and planting in the snow is something new in gardening, but I'm afraid there's a reason for it.”

  "I know. I just like to complain. Don't you?" Merchant put the mug down on her seat and began smoothing her skirt and tugging at her braids (she had such a bad habit of keeping her hands busy like that).

  Everyone hummed in agreement. The warmth inside finally made up for the cold outside. The company was almost at the penultimate confirmation of Rexana's characterizing name when they heard a crowd approaching - the hunters had returned!

  The warriors of Worldedge, former slaves of the Humanists and former guards of Capital, carried a pile of dead furry alms on their backs and a large tattered cloth behind them.

  "Divider!" Merchant jumped from her seat. "How good of you to come back. My children need warm clothing."

  "Don't worry, Merchant. We'll make the children happy with the corpses. Undercut and Northman have already taken your share to Sewer," Divider replied. He was mustachioed and cheerful. "And in the evening - a tiny-feasty affair. Moose still has some taste crystals left, doesn't she?" In anticipation, Divider tossed his weapon from hand to hand behind him - a wooden spike with a hilt that had a hole in it so the hunter could use it as a short spear as well as a spear thrower.

  The townspeople began to gather, and the hunters began to divide their spoils. Merchant's company did not stay away either. Winter has its advantages: you don't have to worry too much about the meat spoiling. Everyone could take care of its storage on their own.

  "Did you find anything interesting, dear Divider?" Quote brought a steaming mug to dear Divider.

  He took the treat, drank a sip, and then began to splash the water with his gestures:

  "Winter has come, but you already know that. We met this girlie. She wanted to visit us, but it's hard to tell what she really wants. She's mute. Hey, where are you? You wanted to visit Worldedge, so here she is!”

  A girl of Gloomy's age, with shoulder-length wavy black hair, stepped out of the crowd. She wore a circlet on her head, an iron breastplate with leather straps and a sword behind it, and leather trousers and boots on her feet. She waved a hand in greeting, then frowned, placed an invisible stone in an invisible sling, and began to spin it, a gloomy expression on her face.

  "You see that? That's the only way he communicates. What is she showing? Who knows..." Divider pointed a thumb at the girl.

  "She's showing Gloomy. Do you want to see him?" Merchant asked warily. "He's not here, he's on an adventure."

  This was not quite what Merchant had expected. It wasn't every day that a girl his age fell upon her son. So far it turns out to be once a season, but the sample consists of only two cases.

  Then Gloomeye's knower made a silly face and started throwing invisible daggers at Merchant.

  "Wolves? How do you know him?" Merchant asked even more warily.

  The mysterious girl became more and more mysterious. But Merchant was not interested in mysteries now.

  "It's Quiet, I telling you," Storyteller was distracted from his inspection of the alms. "She was in our clan before you, Merchant. Then she left."

  "Quiet?" Divider looked at the girl in surprise. "But you haven't changed at all. No, you are even younger. Don't you...?"

  "THEN LET HER TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO HER THIS EVENING," Storyteller suggested loudly, looking expressively at the chief hunter.

  "But she didn't..." Divider casually changed the subject (just pretending that he meant to say 'but she didn't and we also saw...'): "And we also saw a group of people following a woman dressed like Rexana."

  "Lady Rexana," she threw it herself, striding resolutely into the conversation." All who can fight, and all who can pretend to fight, follow me!"

  Lady Rexana stepped out of the conversation just as resolutely, and walked towards the future gate of the city. Behind her, a dressed up Stump waddled along. Since he was always following her around, she should make the best of it, the new chief decided, and gave him the job of her personal secretary. But because he could neither read nor write, Stump had to remember everything. He did it badly, always in a dreamy state. But better such a secretary than no secretary at all. Probably.

  "I don't get it, who put her in charge?" Divider asked Merchant as the people began to gather and follow Rexana.

  Merchant sighed:

  "Wolves. I hope he has a plan and is in the process of implementing it."

  Wolves played with a young boarler, tossing him in the air and telling that he would soon have access to the common stash.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The reason, or rather two reasons, for Rexana's gathering of people stood at the entrance to the village. They were men, clad in bulky suits of armour. One had a weathered, wrinkled face and the other was a young brunet with blue eyes. At their sides hung mighty hammers that resembled the anvil of Smithy, Worldedge's new blacksmith. It took a peg and two strong men to carry the thing into the village at the same time.

  "I recognise this armour," Rexana said as she approached them.

  Behind her came half of Worldedge, only vaguely aware of why they were here. The people shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, silent. The sky was frowning, the clouds had gone completely over to the winter side. A few snowflakes swirled in the air, heralding a new storm.

  "Of course. This..." the wrinkled man began.

  "My jester wears one. Thought it made him a knight. A rare coward," the chieftainess continued with a wry smile (which was very easy to do with her permanently scarred lip).

  "My lady, I sense a certain hostility in your words," the young man said, stepping forward.

  "Because it's there, Romao. Grow up already," the old guest scolded him. "Judging by your clothes and your insolence, you're the leader of these people, aren't you?"

  "Yes, I am," Rexana agreed proudly.

  "Greetings, my lady," Romao bowed his head slightly.

  "A trainee?" the chieftainess said sympathetically.

  "Yes," the man and Rexana had a heart-to-heart connection for a second, and he broke into a smile. "There's no one else to teach the newcomer, you see, everyone's went..." he pulled himself together and broke the connection. "It doesn't matter where. We are paladins of Veritas, looking for the demon that has headed in your direction."

  "Thanks for the warning. Stump, remember that," Rexana threw over her shoulder. "You may go now. Your good armour embarrasses my beggar people."

  "We'll stay and have a look, though. This demon needs a group of people to parasitise them. It is a very cunning and secretive creature," the elder paladin explained.

  "A high succubus," Romao clarified kindly.

  "Why don't you tell them all our secrets?" his mentor waved his hand irritably at the crowd in front of him.

  "Well..." the young paladin touched his chin thoughtfully, then brightened. "We've teamed up with the northern army, they'll give us skyships to replace the griffins, and we'll be able to make the Iron Rain again."

  "Well done, Romao," the weathered paladin praised him sarcastically. Then he said to the world, "Justice, this trainee will be the cause of my demise. It seems he can also call a succubus a lady and try to re-educate a demon."

  "The main thing is not to let problems get out of hand," Rexana sympathised with the paladin again. "Lazy and stupid unsupervised subordinates will only get lazier and stupider."

  The heart-to-heart bond between them was rekindled for a moment.

  "I'd love to get rid of him, but the boy is very strong. Romao, demonstrate what we talked about on the way here."

  The young paladin held out his open palm, concentrated, and shouted, "Unveiling!” A flash of light blinded everyone present, and as they came to their senses, they realised that there were more people present. Standing at a distance from everyone was a sharp and pale woman, rubbing her eyes with her fists and was steaming. With a shake of her head, she glared at Romao angrily and dashed off to run deep into the village.

  "This is it. Kill this abomination, Romao. And stop shouting the names of the techniques!" ordered the paladin, whose name was never revealed, and his ward went after the demon.

  "Is that all?" Rexana asked grimly.

  "Don't thank us so much for getting rid of the high demon. Come on, what money, jewellery, women, really. We're just doing our job," the paladin of Veritas bowed sarcastically. His armour was surprisingly flexible.

  "Our gratitude will be that we will all pretend that he didn't just cast a spell," the chieftainess said, still grimly.

  "It's not a spell! It's..." the paladin began.

  Rexana raised her stump:

  "Really? And here's a real hand that doesn't show you an obscene gesture. It's all about semantics, isn't it?"

  "I'll wait here in case the demon tricks the boy and runs back. And then we'll leave," the man decided to end the argument and turned to walk away.

  Wil, who had been waiting for the conversation to end, jumped out of the crowd with a pile of parchment in his hand:

  "These... these... kind people give out alms without accountability! How am I supposed to balance my debit and credit under these circumstances, Lady Rexana?"

  The paladin froze at the name.

  "Lady Rexana?" he asked. "Are you Rexana?"

  Rexanne tensed. Judging by the man's face, any heart-to-heart connection had been irretrievably lost, its foundations shattered, burnt and salted.

  "Rexana, head of the Sisters of Regina, the Pride Cult?" the light movements in the armour now looked menacing instead of funny. The darkened paladin began to take steps towards the chieftainess (exactly taking steps, not just walking).

  Wil gritted his teeth, shrank, and tried to look in any direction other than the unfolding scene as he began to back away into the crowd, but he didn't reach the crowd as it began to back away as well. Only Rexana, Quiet, Northman, and Stump (who was simply consciously outside of this situation) remained standing still.

  "Do you know for what I love men?" the chieftainess asked, as if the conversation hadn't jumped to a new stage.

  The paladin loomed ominously over the woman:

  "As far as I know, for nothing, demon worshipper."

  "For predictability. You think that if you show your muscles, stomp your feet, raise your voice, everyone at once will rush to kiss your feet," Rexana pulled out the thin dagger that bound her fur cloak and dress together through a round brooch, and struck the approaching face. The cloak fell away immediately.

  The paladin shook his head, receiving a thin wound from his upper lip to his cheek.

  "With that little knife..." he began to smile, but his smile quickly slid down. Along with the skin. He fell lifeless to the ground, leaking out through the neck of his armour.

  "His frisky mate needs to be dealt with as well, if the succubus hasn't already done so. And remove the body," Rexana ordered, picking up the cloak and trying to put it on with one hand.

  Everyone stared at her in silence, even Stump. It was starting to snow.

  "Well, what are you waiting for? It's an order. You know how the hierarchy works, don't you?" the chieftainess stopped her aimless attempts to dress herself and turned to Worldedge.

  Silence was her answer.

  "I am your leader! I am! Wolves himself gave me the title. He doesn't want to be your leader!" Rexana became angry and threw her cloak into the snow.

  "That's why he's the best leader!" Beard stepped forward.

  "He saved our clan from the betrayal of the last chief, I telling you," Storyteller followed him.

  "I am loyal to Gloomeye and his family. I will await his return," said Undercut, the half-shaven former slave Gloomeye had freed.

  "I am sorry, my lady, but we have lost almost all of our sisters in Capital. I don't want that to happen again," said Hilt, the former guard, ashamed. "All we have to do is support Wolves in his game of no-chief. A very small price to pay, it seems to me, compared to the others."

  "He's a man afraid of responsibility, that's what he is. Although I could just say a man. Even his honour has to be defended by others," Rexana pointed her poisoned dagger at the source of her annoyance - the crowd. The front rows recoiled, even though they were well out of range of the dangerous weapon (unless she threw it).

  At that moment, Wolves, who was playing with the boarlers, imagined something, but he waved his head and went back to the alms.

  "You have started a war against a group with such armour! My husband, firstly, would not be in such a situation, as he is not the head of a demonic cult, and secondly, he would try to solve everything by talking. Brutal violence is only his second plan," it was Merchant's turn to enter the conversation.

  "It's not a group, but an entire order that owns a city stronger than Capital. And, as far as I know, led by the false god who has retained his powers. So this is no time for internal squabbles. They've destroyed more kingdoms than all the conquerors put together," Rexana decided it was time for a speech. "So we must prepare for heavy fighting. The priority now is inner walls instead of houses. Practice fighting more. And your favourite Gloomeye spoke of the mind-reading arch. It would be a good idea to bring it here and put it in the gate. Now, unless you want to whine about how a man who doesn't want to be a leader should be a leader, let's get to work," Rexana said, and strode off determinedly.

  The people began to disperse, distracted.

  "The mug is only slightly full. At the very bottom," Thorn thought, peering nervously at the snowfall, the dark silhouettes of the megashrooms, and the new powerful enemies that had appeared.

  ooo

  Kzarina ran through the snow among piles of rocks, pits, and frightened people. Paladins (how coincidental that 'paladins' was the demons' main swear word)! She looked back at the Veritas paladin following her. Despite his armour, he was keeping up. There was also an unpleasant bright light emanating from his chest. Who wears symbols of faith in times like these?

  "Stop, demon!" the lightbringer shouted.

  "I am a demoness!" the succubus corrected him over her shoulder.

  "Stop, demoness!" the stalker corrected himself. So young, and already he has taken the straight path of light. Paladins! Paladins! PALADINS!

  They ran out of the settlement, and Kzarina was able to speed up. The paladin sped up as well. How much stamina does he have?

  After a while, even the succubus began to tire. All the bits of Metamorphosis she had gathered overnight were spent. Now she wouldn't be able to renew her tired insides with new ones. And illusions wouldn't work on such a strong unveiler. Besides, his disgusting light was hitting her back.

  She even began to sweat through the pores of her skin. So this is what it's like for mere mortals who can't change their flesh? Poor humans...

  The demoness tried to shake the sweat from her eyes with a shake of her head. Even without it, the snowfall was almost hiding the nearest snowdrifts.

  "STOP! FREEZE!" the mortal shouted in a kind of desperate voice. Was the paladinling beginning to tire?

  Kzarina turned to hurl a taunt at him, but the ground beneath her feet ran out of solidity and emptiness began. The demoness flew into the dark void with a shameful (almost mortal) scream. Still facing backward, her head managed to see how the paladin tried to stop at the edge of the chasm, but couldn't and flew after her, grabbing heaps of snow, and then even passed her in the fall. What an impudent fellow.

  With every second of the fall, she became more and more terrified. She didn't even have Metamorphosis to change her eyes to see through the darkness. There was no thought of wings, or even leather membranes. After some distance and time (which in this case was the same for Kzarina), she realised that she was doomed.

  A demon falling into a dark abyss. Most mortals would call this poetic justice. But it is not from the Abyss that we come...

  Suddenly, the ground slammed aggressively into the succubus. The true darkness had come.

  The first thing Kzarina saw when she awoke was darkness again. It was starting to get boring. She moved her arm and realised that her body was now (roughly) 90% pain and 10% agony. Through the pain, she reached around and found mud, snow, water and some sort of lump of cloth. With a couple more exertions, she tried to wrap this cloth around her arm (as mortals do to heal), but it didn't work. She did, however, fumble for a ring there. Mentally listing all the possible options (there were only two left: to wear the ring or not to wear the ring), Kzarina pushed her finger into the ring.

  An arc of light emerged from the ring and burst into the demoness' forehead, illuminating everything around her, but it immediately broke in the middle like a simple thread and faded away.

  But Kzarina stopped thinking about the stupid ring, because in the flash of light she saw the paladin, curled up in a metal ball. After a few seconds, light came from the man's chest again, indicating that he had regained consciousness. And then the lines on his hammer also flashed pure white light, illuminating the area around him.

  A glowing paladin with a hammer in his hand. Not the most pleasant sight for a demon, especially in this state (90% pain and 10% agony. Oh no, it was already 89% pain and 11% agony). The hammer light cast shadows on the young man's face, making him look very un-paladin-like. How had he survived? Paladin armour! No, it's an Armour of Strength! Paladin armour! Of Strength!

  Staggering, he walked towards the lying Kzarina. She tried to twitch, but it was as if her body had gone to this man's side - it pinned her mistress to the bottom of the abyss with such pain that even a groan was trapped in her lungs. He's going to kill me? Just like that? In the mud, in a huge hole? His light blinded her eyes. I just got my freedom! And survived such a fall!

  The paladin came very close and raised his hammer. I don't want to! I don't want to die! AND WHY DON'T DEMONS HAVE SOULS!?

  But the paladin was in no hurry to lower the hammer and end the demon's life. Now the light of the hammer did not fall on the man's face, and it was a solid shadow. What was there? A triumphant smirk? Disgust? Boredom? Does he want to torture me one last time? A warrior of light...

  The paladin brought the hammer down, not on Kzarina, but to his side (revealing for a moment a face wrinkled with inner torment), turned and ran.

  He... didn't kill me? Why? Did he take pity on me? Spared the demon? How do I look then?

  Overcoming the pain, Kzarina lifted her head. Her vision immediately split in two. The man carried the light away, but there was still enough of it to see that half of her vision remained in place, and the other half had risen with her head. And at the same time there was a sharp pain (where do without it?) in her eyes, her head and some new organ in between. The demoness looked down and saw, between the fragments of bone that had unplanned poked through the meat, her eye on a stalk that went to her head. The paladin took the light of the hammer far away and the sight sank into darkness along with the demoness's mind.

  Unfortunately, I have not been able to translate the Unveiling spell adequately. In the original, it has the meaning of removing a visage, and is also associated with a judicial accusation, with an inquisitorial vibes.

  I apologise to those who have flashbacks of skirts being smoothed and braids being tugged. This was a one-off reference event.

  If you want to check out Rexana's inspiration - Rugga from The Banner Saga 2.

  Another detail from the first part (Norn Ring) plays a role. That's probably not a good thing. After all, I have to do things for the lore of the world, unsolved mystical riddles, etc. I will have to beat my hands if I want to reveal Great Fool in more detail.

  I came up with Kzarina’s arc before Maginarium and Tavernoriade, but I didn't want to write a romance novel. But as one of the epic fantasy storylines, why not?

  Kzarina, who admires humanity and longs for an immortal soul, is somewhat reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid.