"Oh, Par'tryont. What do you want, hmm?" I ask Waionr's lion as he comes strutting up to me. His head goes down, his bush of a mane coming up with a well-trimmed edge. I move my hand over, aiming to pet the big cat. However, he bashes against me, growling forcefully with repeated headbutts.
I shake and step about, trying to avoid while still getting corralled by the animal. I twist about, getting my stride in time with the lion's demands. He keeps shoving at me, knocking me about even now. I keep on making complaints but he doesn't listen, he just keeps knocking me about.
"Ah, it seems he overheard us." Sister Pymonsia giggles from above and she joins me. Par'tryont's head bashing at me again.
"Enough!" I snap at the lion, and he seems to chuckle away, his natural roar making it more like a series of hisses. He goes off, perching on a nearby statue set before a larger one of his true owner.
"Come, come!" Sister Pymonsia urges me, taking over the job of dragging me about.
"What now!?" I demand to know, finding myself once again under the control of someone's bullying. Sister Pymonsia cosies up to me, wrapping her arm around my free one.
"We need to discuss something important." she says, my brow rising at her words.
"We as in, me and you? Or we as in more?" I ask, knowing full well she said 'overheard us' earlier. I've not been kept up to date on anything and no one has reached for me. It's all been the same as usual since the Traitor Cycle. Help out wherever you can and work yourself tired trying to clean up and make something of the temple grounds.
Particularly down near the quarry and elsewhere, my hands got near the Arch-Traitor... Much as it was needed to at least defeat the traitors. No one is thanking me for the mess I made. I've been picking up so much of it lately and they need to keep borrowing Cenotaph just to work replacement bricks.
I can't even bless regular masonry tools, either. They need Cenotaph specifically! Only a divine metal can break the divine rock. And my fingers are just not up to it when it comes to precision breaking.
"You'll see," Sister Pymonsia giggles, letting go and flying off into the air. I chase after her, soaring above the temple grounds with her as all manner crosses the skyline with us. Many Valkinvar stop and stare, my presence quite polarising. They find it safe, enduring and mystical. I find it embarrassing to have so many eyes on me...
Especially when these eyes were quite different in mood so recently.
Sister Pymonsia picks up speed, drawing my attention back to her. We aimlessly zoom through and between the towers and libraries. Going over balconies and then diving down the immense redstone structures. Shooting off elsewhere as statues come into view, their invulnerable, unyielding visage a warning as much as it is an electric tease.
We come to a stop, and I follow her turning head, "Here we are!"
I huff at her chirping voice, looking towards the damaged Chamber of War, "This is useful."
We fly in through the hole I made with the Arch-Traitor and we gently come down to the ground floor. I look around, up the chairs and around the many gates out of here. The three remaining Points of the Compass are here, and their honour guards. Everyone who survived the massacre that happened in here, is here, too. They even shifted in the wounded officers so they could take part.
Everything that remains of the high command of the Valkinvar is here. Plus, well, me. But that is the problem, really. Why am I here? The medallion Sister Pymonsia gave me is a bit worthless now. I don't even have it, anymore. A member of the Ordoar Wiswipide came to retrieve it.
"Join us, Valkinvar Vapooliar." Sister Aimaboryim requests, urging me on with a prideful, smuggish smile. One she just can't help but shove at the other two. Pymonsia pouts back and mimics an awful tone. Baalaeun snorts, his armour struggling to hold back even a breath from the strongest man.
"So, what is this about? I'm still working on writing everything down with the Crown of Conceptual War." I point out, not too sure why they want me here for the moment. I wasn't busy, I admit, but there are still many things to do. However, I'm not sure whatever this is was one of those tasks.
"We will come to that in due time. We just felt it necessary to get this out of the way, Valkinvar Vapooliar." Sister Aimaboryim explains, her tone returning to its more natural, distant way of speaking. Though, she can hardly contain the fact it's a Valkinvar-Imdvarce who has directly spoken to Waionr and lived.
"Mmmm... It's Valkinvar-Imdvarce. Points of the Compass." I correct, noting how this strange thing keeps ongoing on. I understand my circumstances make my title a bit of an issue right now, but this is something else entirely.
"We know, we just... Feel it's inappropriate now. You are something more than a Valkinvar but we also know it's not quite right of us to call you anything but," Sister Aimaboryim explains and the other two nod alongside her. The rest of the chamber lights up with gossip and they urge for silence. Though the noise defies them either way.
"You've brought everyone here to come up with a new title for me...?" I ask, not quite sure if something like this really calls for my place here.
"No." Brother Baalaeun is quick to answer. Sister Pymonsia walks up to me, a medallion in her hand. She gifts it to me in quite the ceremonious manner, and that only locks my eyes to it. A medallion, like the one she gave me before the Traitor Cycle. Only, this one bears the mark of the True Emerald Wind... The Zaphadren-Valkinvar's symbol.
"We wanted you here so everyone could bear witness to the new Zaphadren-Valkinvar." Sister Pymonsia explains, smiling as her eyes close up, her lips widening and widening. Her hands come together, clapping slightly. I hold my hand up, stopping it from going any further.
"I... I can't accept this." I say, and most certainly not because we're skipping so much of the ceremony that comes with being a Point of the Compass.
"We've deliberated about it already. Much as it brings me pride, Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar. You simply are not one of us anymore. You are something more." Sister Aimaboryim explains, her pride so blatant either way. She can say what she wants. She clearly still holds me as one of her many Valkinvar-Imdvarce. One of many daughters she loves dearly, but can't be too open about it.
Jealousy, like wind magic, is green, after all.
"No... No. I don't mean it like that. Two Ordoar Imdvarce Points of the Compass aside... I can't accept this. Without these artefacts, I'm nowhere of the right to hold the title. You all saw what the Arch-Traitor was doing as she battled me. Look outside! LOOK!" I say, struggling to keep my emotions in check as I fly up, my arms throwing themselves at the horizon. The completely destroyed horizon.
"It doesn't matter!" Brother Baalaeun insists, his hand cupping his mouth as I calm myself back to the ground.
"But it does. It does! She was a witch who understood four different ways of magic. She was a prodigy, and, traitor as she is, she was someone who understood leadership. Even more so when we include the whole traitor thing! She orchestrated it all! I'm not on her level in any regard. I don't deserve the title." I point out to them and they all sigh.
Sister Pymonsia comes close, holding my hands as her lips linger open...
"Vapooliar... We also think it's best for you to take the title to wash it clean of the Arch-Traitor's deeds. We can't have the title of 'Zaphadren-Valkinvar' stay associated with a traitor. We want to try and scrub her associations away. Give something else for the Valkinvar to cling to." she explains, and I continue to shake my head.
"It's not right. A Point of the Compass needs to be someone from each Ordoar. That's always how it has been." I say.
"We've also never had a champion chosen by Waionr himself!" someone calls from the floor above, leading to an unending assault of yes' and all of its equivalents.
"SILENCE!" Brother Baalaeun barks, his words echoing quite specifically around his banging about Valkinvar-Ammimpaurst.
"Then I will be just that. Waionr's Champion, as he named me." I say, shrugging at the idea of taking anything else.
"Vapooliar..." Sister Pymonsia goes, her eyes flickering over to Sister Aimaboryim.
"I'm sorry, everyone. But, if we as Valkinvar are to move on with this. Then we need to rebuild the Ordoar Staguiffmani. They need to reclaim their places among us and in this room and throughout the temple. While the history escapes me, and you can correct me all you want if I am wrong. But... It's the Grand Temple of the FOUR-WINDED Valkinvar. We cannot be lacking a fourth wind at a time like this, a fourth Ordoar." I explain, knowing full well the circumstances we're dealing with.
"You have a plan?" Sister Aimaboryim asks, her eyes lingering on the divine artefacts.
"No. But, I will consult with the Crown of Conceptual War. It can probably tell me the best way to rebuild our lost Ordoar. As well as truly unravel all of the changes put in by the Arch-Traitor over the grand-cycles she and the others have been interfering." I say, and the three of them nod in agreement.
"Then it is settled, we shall rearrange our titles as is needed. Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia, congratulations of the promotion to either Noustoster-Valkinvar or Bordeaon-Valkinvar." Brother Baalaeun sighs and shrugs over. The emerald bearded man's brow furrowing with all new stress lines.
"Oh, I'm not too sure about that!" Sister Pymonsia giggles to alleviate the awkwardness the three now face. The usual traditions will not be enough, so Brother Baalaeun and Sister Aimaboryim need to come to a conclusion soon. The war does not favour us lingering in pomp and ceremony. It demands we act.
Or... Perhaps only me, seeing as I wield such overwhelming power right now.
"Still, an appropriate title is needed, Valkinvar Vapooliar!" Sister Aimaboryim calls out to me, catching my attention and pulling it back to her.
"Yes... Yes. In moments like this, I believe we should simply put our trust in Waionr's word. Champion of War Vapooliar. Or something to that effect." I say.
"Waionr's Chosen Champion?" Sister Pymonsia throws out there.
"I like it. Matches the empire's proper name." Brother Baalaeun goes, his sense of humour making a rare appearance.
"I agree. Waionr's Chosen Champion Vapooliar, his beloved agent of war within Waionr's Chosen Theocracy!" Sister Aimaboryim says and all the Valkinvar-Imdvarce rise up to the silent order. Chanting away at a quickly forming rhyme, all centred on one thing. One person.
Me.
"... I accept." I meekly answer, my face all red from the growing noise of the chants and cheers. The Points of the Compass gather around, putting their hands on me where they can. They knock me about a bit, encouraging me onwards as the noise refuses to die down.
"I'm pretty sure that's the agenda, then?" Sister Aimaboryim asks and the other two shrug.
"Honestly... I'm surprised by how agreeable everyone is right now." Sister Pymonsia huffs, the loss of the biggest burden in the war effort certainly easing the mood right now.
"I'm certainly interested in breaking that." Brother Baalaeun teases, his eyes on his competition for the title of Zaphadren-Valkinvar. Sister Aimaboryim squares up to him, her lack of comparative strength not enough to keep her away.
"I guess we should go somewhere quieter." I say to Sister Pymonsia, and she smiles and nods. We go up into the air and find a place to hover. The ruined Valkinvar Gate and Parade Ground right in front of us.
"So, what does Waionr's Chosen Champion wish of the Ordoar Wiswipide?" she asks me and I look towards my good friend, smiling somewhat.
"I want them to go through the city, rally the people with their charity. Keep their hearts strong. Though we have much fighting to do. Much land to reclaim and more. I can grant us so much more in the current circumstances. There will be no more worrying about counter attacks and so on. I have the strength to do what an army can't." I say, breathing in some relief even as I look upon endless rows of fallen Valkinvar.
Perhaps, this one battle we just survived has seen more fallen sisters and brothers than any other moment in our history. All the grim battles on display in the vaults, destroyed or otherwise. They cannot amount to this. Nothing can. The temple will wear its scars for perhaps centuries to come.
But, there is hope in what I am now. I can give us that breathing room that would've been paralysing terror all the time before. We have a chance to win this war and I will make it come out the way we want it to. I will do what needs to be done, and I will enforce the will of War himself to do it.
"Now... I best get back to work. We both should. I've got a lot of tablets to write down on... And trust me. Artefacts or no-"
"Tabletwork is still miserable!" Sister Pymonsia interrupts, her giggles latching onto me and making me do much the same. We break out into full laughter and though we are surrounded by a grim circumstance. We manage to find the light in our war-torn lives. War himself is on our side, and we are prepared to fight on in his glorious name!