Paladin of the Seraph, page 23
“Go.” Darren jerked his head back behind him.
Callum let out a low whistle. “Damn. Well, I’m glad the dead passed without much suffering.”
“We need to keep moving. I will entrust you with cleaning up this town. Purify the corpses so that no undead arise.” Darren left Callum with a few dozen men and a few holy adepts before continuing on to the next town. Now that Darren had a better grasp of the situation, he didn’t expect to encounter any trouble until they got to the capital.
They took care of the next few towns swiftly. Now that they knew what to expect, his people were quick and efficient. By the time the sun set, they’d reached the remains of one of Whiteguard’s larger cities.
There were more survivors here, and a few groups had already banded together to fight the undead roaming the streets. There were even a few imps darting between structures and opening doors for the shambling zombies making their way through the city.
They were slowly losing ground to the undead and the demons, but when Darren’s forces arrived, they made short work of both the demons and the undead.
“Hey, looks like the festival-goers left the food out! Not bad. The buns are a bit cold, but this pie is great!” A paladin grinned as he helped himself to a plate, swatting a nearby undead aside with the back of one gauntleted hand as he made his way to the food.
"Just remember not to drink the ale!" someone called out, followed by a laugh from the rest of the group.
They had a grand feast, and the camp cooks hardly even needed to prepare anything. Darren scooped up all the poisoned ale barrels and moved them into his Inventory, replacing them with fresh stuff adulterated with a little bit of water from his Fountain of Youth instead.
The following morning they left the city behind, put to order after their visit. The few survivors would have a tough time rebuilding the city, but the farming villages were in much better shape, and Darren directed the city-dwellers to them. They’d have to earn a living as farmhands until he could put this kingdom back together again.
Darren and his forces swept over the land from three directions. He kept his force intact since he planned to hit all the largest cities. But Cassandra, Asuriel, and Sasha split their armies into four parts each so they could cover more ground. That turned an expedition that would have taken months into something that would only take a few weeks, assuming they continued to meet no appreciable resistance.
But as Darren and his army swept through the first of Whiteguard’s Citadel, he soon realized there would be little resistance at all.
“How odd...” Priestess Blossom said. She’d come with Darren’s forces. Originally, she’d been with Sasha, but a healer of her caliber was better suited to going wherever the fighting was thickest. Also, like Sasha, she was from Whiteguard, so she was a great deal of help with directions. Morgana trailed behind her, poking over the abandoned Citadel of Granitebreak. It was in far better shape than Neverhorn, as this one looked like it had been manned and tended to until mere days prior. But it was empty all the same.
“What?” Darren asked.
“There aren’t any paladin, priestess, or cleric corpses anywhere. The citadel must have been completely empty during the festival.” Priestess Blossom scrunched her brows in confusion.
“Or Kalaziel had a different plan in mind for them...” Darren’s mind turned back to the rumors he’d heard. He’d heard a few whispers of the Order of the Rod possessing some pathway leading directly to the heavens. Perhaps Kalaziel wasn’t quite as quick to spend the souls of his most valuable servants.
Granitebreak held no answers for them, so after leaving behind a skeleton crew to convert the abandoned citadel into a fortress under their own control, Darren moved onward, trailing along Whiteguard’s northern coast.
There were no answers to be found in that citadel, nor the next one over. The craftsmen and women for the old citadels scattered around the Sacred Seas had mostly come from Whiteguard years ago, so they had more such fortresses than any other land.
But if any still lived after what had transpired in this kingdom, they weren’t in their citadels now. The undead and the demons put up more resistance than the locals as they swept over the land. There were a few incidents where local landed lords still held half a garrison of troops, but most hid in their towers and estates the moment they saw Darren was a paladin, let alone the scale of the forces behind him.
Only one of them stood out at all.
“You there! Sir paladin!” A fair-haired lord on a towering steed rode toward Darren with all haste. A dozen horsemen trailed behind him. Ordinarily, a dozen fighting men might be intimidating, but not to Darren. With an entire army at his back marching hard, the intimidation probably went the other way around.
“Speak,” Darren called out in reply.
“What has the Order of the Rod done with all my men?” the man asked, worry in his voice. Even on his horse, he was only at eye level with Darren.
“I do not know, but if they went to the neighboring town, they are likely dead,” Darren replied.
The man cursed. “Heavens damn them. I knew I never should have let my silly little girl take up a sigil. Oh, Sasha, I hope you’re safe...”
Darren’s eyebrows rose at that. “Sasha?”
He thought the name was a coincidence, but after a bit of inquiry to the man before him and through Cassandra’s Psychic Bond, Darren soon realized he was standing before Sasha’s father. The man was overjoyed to hear his daughter was alright, although a bit concerned to learn she was at the head of an enemy army invading Whiteguard.
“You’re not riding out to fight her, are you?” the nobleman asked nervously. “My darling Sasha has always been a bit of a silly girl. I’m sure some heinous villain tricked her into leading this army! There’s no way she’d turn against her countrymen...”
“No, she works for me,” Darren replied. “I’m invading Whiteguard, too. It’s my army.”
The nobleman was stunned, and his hand went for his sword by reflex. He eyed Darren up and down, as well as the vast army trailing behind him. Despite the fear in his eyes, he drew his sword anyway. “A-and who might you be, to lead such an army into our lands?” He looked like he was asking for the name of his killer.
“Darren Heavengrace.”
Sasha’s father froze. “Heavengrace, you say. You have the right look about you. I remember our last king. Tell me, since you’re here with an army at your back. Do you intend to conquer Whiteguard?”
Darren shook his head. “No. I come to save it.”
Sasha’s father sheathed his sword. “Then my men and I will follow you to the capital, few as we may be.”
22
Under Sasha’s father’s guidance, they journeyed toward Whiteguard City, the namesake of the kingdom. He knew the best paths for an army to take, and even a few secret entrances into the city, should they need them when they arrive.
As the city came into view, Darren understood why other sprawling settlements were merely considered towns. Even Limedeep seemed diminutive in comparison.
The walls of Whiteguard City were fashioned from lustrous white granite, polished and smoothed to perfection. Such cuts would be impossible for traditional stone masons. Only a paladin with an enchanted blade could achieve such precision, and thousands must have contributed to the city's impregnable fortifications.
Seven concentric walls encircled the city, each one taller and grander than the last. The presence of the seaside on the city's northern shore did not disrupt the neat and even spacing of the circular rings. The city's artisans sought to emulate the heavens themselves, refusing to let any mortal force stand in their way. Great walls towered out of the water, shrugging off the waves as effortlessly as natural cliffs.
Each guard tower lining the walls was substantial enough to be considered a castle elsewhere. The streets were paved with cobblestones, worn smooth over the centuries.
In contrast to the stout and sturdy fortifications, the buildings within the city soared toward the sky as if attempting to pierce the heavens. They towered higher than any mortal material should allow, giving the city an ambitious and lofty atmosphere. Every other city in the Sacred Seas seemed primitive in comparison. It was no wonder Whiteguard was considered the wealthiest kingdom in the region.
Morgana let out a low whistle. "Why did I never think to come here before?"
"I've never seen these streets empty. Tragic..." Priestess Blossom sighed.
This was the homeland of Darren's ancestors. His mother's family had lived and ruled over this city for generations. He tried to recall memories of this place, but found nothing. It was as if his past before that fateful day in the cave had happened to someone else.
He'd put those thoughts aside when he met Cassandra, Callum, and Morgana. Having made new friends and built a life worth living, there was no point in dwelling on what could have been.
But as he looked at this city, he could imagine himself strolling the streets as a pampered prince. What would he be like, if he’d had such a fate? Would he still be the person he was today? Or would he be unrecognizable to his current self?
"Wait, the streets are empty." Morgana furrowed her brow. "Shouldn't they be covered in bodies like all the others we've been to?"
"It's midmorning, so if they were still alive they'd be up and about by now..." Blossom mused.
"Which means someone moved them," Darren concluded. It seemed his forces might face a proper battle after all.
"Look there." Sasha’s father pointed his sword at the palace’s walls. "The royal guard's watchtower still burns brightly. They value their duty more than even the call of the heavens, and they must always be prepared for a fight. They never drink and never abandon their posts while on duty, even during festivals."
"That probably saved their lives," Priestess Blossom said. "We should speak to them."
They waved to catch the attention of the guards, but received no response. Darren could see figures scurrying about the city, keeping watch. It appeared a fight was inevitable.
"Stay sharp," Sasha’s father warned, exhaling sharply. "I suspect they will be hitting us with arrows soon."
He reached behind him for his helmet, which was tied to his saddlebag,
"If they’d wanted to talk, they would have sent a runner out to us. I'd wager they spotted our approach hours ago." He turned to Darren and his companions. "I have a spare helmet and shield here, but only one."
"Give them to Blossom." Darren nodded toward their priestess. He suspected she was the most vulnerable to arrow fire. The arrows would bounce off his skin, and getting a few arrows stuck in her would only make Morgana's attacks hit harder, considering her new Masochistic Fervor skill.
Darren took up a position in front. He pulled Melancholy from his Inventory and propped it up on his shoulder. The long shaft of metal was big enough to be a shield for normal-sized people, and sticking it in the air would make it that much harder to hit those behind him.
Over his other shoulder, he propped up his Hell-Sundering Sword of Annihilation. It was a bit smaller than Melancholy, and he felt a bit silly carrying two enormous swords. Still, he certainly had the strength for it, and they would block twice as many arrows.
As soon as he equipped the second sword, arrows started flying. One or two at first, followed by dozens more as the others caught on that it was time to attack. Darren didn't move to block or stop them in any way since doing so could expose his comrades following close behind him.
"Bodkin points!" Sasha's father cursed as he held his shield over his head. "They’ll go right through armor. Behind me, fair ladies! I will shield you!"
Bodkin points or not, the arrows bounced off Darren's skin, bent and broken no matter where they struck. Bare chest and shoulders, neck, face, even his eyes were immune to projectiles of this humble caliber, and not one of them slowed his pace in the least as he approached the palace.
As they drew closer, the volleys grew increasingly desperate, solidifying Sasha's father's claim that they were fighting the city's royal guard. Deeper in the city, Darren started seeing a few bodies piled into carts and awaiting burial. Some of them had arrows in their skulls that matched the ones bouncing off him now. With its dense population, this city could have given rise to a new demon lord from nothing more than the dense quantity of Demonic Aura that so much human death could generate.
For preventing that, these royal guards had earned a little mercy from him.
Once they realized their arrows would not do anything to Darren, they stopped wasting ammunition. Instead, stronger projectiles hurtled toward him, some in the form of enchanted arrows and others purely magical. Some of these were strong enough that Darren swatted them out of the air with the flat of one of his blades. He even caught one when he saw a powerful arrow flying toward him.
He soon discovered he could weave a web of Divine Aura over himself and his companions. The web itself did nothing other than extend his sense of touch, but that was all it took to activate his Inventory. After that, all the arrows flung at their group went straight into his pocket, undamaged by blunting themselves on his skin.
"I'm jealous!" Morgana grinned. "You're stealing their arrows right out of the air!"
"It's not stealing. I'm just keeping them safe," Darren replied.
Sasha's father lowered his shield, looking a little chagrined as he realized he was simply trailing behind Darren like the others. But he laughed it off with a chuckle. "That is some defensive ability you have, Your Majesty! I have seen paladins shield themselves from arrow fire, but rarely others as well, and never as casually as you do!"
Eventually, they made it to the sixth ring of walls leading deeper into the city.
"The door to the next ring is locked." Blossom frowned. "Those of us who can't fly will have a tough time heading deeper."
"Morgana, carry Blossom," Darren said.
"I'm a decent climber. I could probably make it up the wall..." Sasha's father muttered. "Let me just find a good place to tie off my horse and—"
He was interrupted by Darren reaching under his horse's belly and taking flight with both Sasha's father and the horse over his shoulder.
"—And I suppose that works..." Sasha's father had a white-knuckle grip on his reins, and his horse wasn't in much better shape. The steed would have bucked and kicked if Darren hadn't wrapped it up in Divine Energy Constructs to hold it tight and prevent it from moving.
Breaking through to the fifth ring went much the same, and the fourth after that. Simply flying straight to the palace probably would have been quicker, but he wanted to keep all the attention on him. His allies were only now roaming the city's outer ring, and the royal guard could truly cause some casualties if they clashed with his army. The best way to keep bloodshed to a minimum was to have them completely focused on him.
So he kept up his slow and steady walk through the fourth ring, and the third and second. The royal guards from everything he passed followed him, correctly identifying his party as the greatest threat, despite the army pouring into the city. His slow and steady march gave them time to retreat and gather at the palace.
"They've activated the shield over the inner ring," Sasha's father said. "It's an ancient family artifact of the Heavengrace Family. I didn't think it was possible to activate it without someone of the Heavengrace bloodline! It doesn't quite look like it's at full power. They must have gone into the catacombs and gotten a little tricky with healing magic to coax it into activating."
"An artifact of the Heavengrace family, you say?" Morgana turned to Darren. "You know, that means it's technically your artifact. Do you think we could swipe it?"
Darren shook his head. They already had a magic city-protecting shield in Limedeep. There was no need for a second one. "It belongs to this city, so here it will stay."
But just because he wasn't going to take the magic shield didn't mean he wouldn't seize control of it. He brushed his fingers across the glowing bubble. Then, with one finger pointed like a needle, he popped it.
He expected it to put up more of a struggle. He'd been prepared to use his mastery of Divine Aura to weave a hole in the bubble large enough to walk through. But this Divine Aura leaped to obey when he made his will known. It was like a loyal puppy finally sighting its master after a long absence.
The bubble collapsed, and all that stood between Darren and the palace were the locked iron gates. One kick shattered the metal gates, and Darren and his companions walked straight through.
As Darren and his companions approached the palace, they were met by an array of weapons aimed at them. Darren held up his hand, signaling for his companions to stay behind him. He leaned casually against Melancholy's hilt, appearing nonchalant despite the tense situation.
[I could blow them all up?] Ashe suggested, eyeing the densely packed group of guards. [They're certainly close enough.]
Darren shook his head. [Not yet.]
"Halt, intruder!" a silver-haired woman bellowed. Her wings, glimmering like freshly minted coins, extended impressively behind her. Judging by her ornate armor and her prominent position among the crowd, she was likely the captain of the Royal Guard and a formidable Fourth-Order paladin. "You have trespassed into the royal palace of Whiteguard! The ancestral home of the Heavengrace Royal Family and the current residence of our royal stewards. How you managed to penetrate so deep into our lands and choose such an unfortunate time to strike is beyond me, but know this. You will go no further!"
"Sheathe your weapons. They are no use to you," Darren calmly advised.
The men and women surrounding the silver-haired captain tightened their grips on their weapons, determination etched on their faces. Darren could see hands straining to maintain their bows at full draw, and those wielding swords and shields were slick with sweat.
The group of guards appeared to have experienced relentless combat since Whiteguard's fall. Once adorned with the shining gilding of ceremonial armor, their equipment now bore the scars of battle: holes and dents the size of fists marred its once-pristine surface. Many of the guards also wore bandages over their hands, faces, or beneath their helmets, hinting at the injuries they had sustained.
