"Up we go!" Brother Lavauroas hoots, his hands securing the final bits of supplies on the lift. Me and the others stand aside, keeping to the spacious rear edges of the lift. We could just fly up the tunnel and get back to the surface that way, but, it's a casual experience. Lingering here. We even get to enjoy the music of the chains in all their eye-watering gilded glory.
"I sure hope your investigation gets somewhere, Sister Vapooliar..." mutters Sister Bsess, her hands spreading across the stone railings. I join her, lingering on a decorative bauble. My attention tries to scratch away some of the dust, though there's not much I can get to. Armoured fingers or not.
"It will, that much is for certain." I say, hoping to quell some of her fears. Spoken for her, unspoken for the other two, perhaps more. Though, one has to wonder if I am even certain about any of this. Seems like every point of the cycle is giving me new information to work with. New things to worry about.
It all seems so odd that this all escaped me while I was a Wing-Head, still. Though, I suppose that is because I was focused on trying to actually fight this war. I didn't want to stay in the city or pay attention. I wanted to try and advance the front-lines. Then I did what I did, and I was cooped up in the city like all my other sisters and brothers. The finest collection of rare birds for the finest cage in the world.
"You know... With how many problems are going about these cycles? I do have to wonder quite a bit what the stick-holders are exactly getting punished with." Brother Lavauroas gruffs. His heavy muscle and armour weight banging on the stone, almost making it sound like it's creaking under the strain. Sister Cetrepe shuffles away, her lighter Imdvarce-patterned armour practically tinkling in comparison. Brother Lavauroas notices this, snatching our sister up and snickering away as she silently flails.
A curious irony, with how noisy she tends to be.
Though, I can certainly appreciate some silence, "Well, if Sister Osses' prior guess meant anything. Maybe they're being expected to put magic into the city's dome shield?"
"Doubt it." Brother Lavauroas huffs, letting Sister Cetrepe free with an awfully cruel looking spin. Like he's just broke her neck and left her spinning out of control. Though the deed is thankfully not done.
"Either way, they can certainly take some of us off of our ridiculous shifts. Maybe we'll even take their punishments. Surely them going out in those rescue parties is at all the same?" Sister Bsess goes, throwing her arms up into the air as the surface light starts to come into view.
"Do you guys hear that...?" Sister Cetrepe asks, her voice borderline whispering.
"I would if you'd-!" Sister Osses snaps on instinct, her face flushing up for a moment as another noise clearly comes to our ears. An argument. Quite the large one, too.
"WHAT NOW!?" echoes a furious voice, a handful of mirages zipping on by at the tunnel's topside maw. I share a look between my friends and our wants to remain on the lift vanish. We head up ahead of it, flying under our own power as more and more temple guards fly on by.
"There's a lot of them..." Brother Lavauroas mutters, his armour creaking so clearly with force around the handle of his war-hammer. I look at the other three and nod my head, speeding off on foot. More temple guards fly by, the sky even sounding off with repeated sonic booms as the mess of noise only grows more intense. A flash of magic bursts out, freezing us all with fear as much as it does curiosity.
"MOVE!" Sister Bsess snaps, her prior joy nowhere to be found as the hall echoes with our footfalls. We might not be able to fight as we normally do right now, Valkinvar or not. But we are all still what we are, warrior-priestess and brother guardians.
"What in All-That-Remains...?" Sister Cetrepe squeaks, her head poking out of the first, literal window of opportunity.
I skid to a halt, scraping up some of the art on the floor, "What do you see!?"
"Armies!?" she answers, her head too full of thoughts.
"Great..." I mutter, nodding my head again so we can catch up with the other three. The halolight graces us with its warmth and shine and we launch into the air, heading to the rims of the massive crowds. The armies she spoke of. One of Valkinvar-Staguiffmani. The other of Valkinvar-Wiswipide.
Temple guards flick around at our arrival, drawing their weapons and barking all to stay back. I keep ongoing, flashing the medallion Sister Pymonsia gave me and I'm allowed on through. I circumvent the crowd, flying over the Redstone Canyon until an opening comes into view. A sonic boom erupts and I fling myself forward.
Rolling and sliding across the width of the Great Bridge until I am right in the middle of two juggernauts. One side our strongest witches when it comes to the art of external-magic flow. The other our most skilled killers. Both of them are at each other, standing by their majority sisters and few brothers. Barking away at the other side with all the anger inside of them.
Smirks of opportunity are on some and almost all. Glares and more. Clenched fists and drawn weapons. Provocative words and barbed spells designed to prick at their patience... I can barely manage to stand in such dense power!
I draw my sword, swinging it wide into the open and then leaning onto it. My magic flows through it, offering me strength when I need it most. The crowds start to simmer, though only as word of the medallion I have spreads through them. I'm no Point of a Compass, but, so long as Sister Pymonsia has her faith in me, I am their barest equal.
Two sisters approach me, one a high-ranking Valkinvar-Staguiffmani, the other her opponent's faction. I look between the pair, not too bothered about their names or looks, just what they represent. Their Ordoars are them for the moment. They are their Ordoars, as they are them...
"Wh-What is going on!?" I demand to know, stepping back a bit so the medallion remains even in their periphery vision. We all share a moment of looking around, the density of temple guards increasing.
"The Zaphadren-Valkinvar has ordered all Valkinvar remain within the confines of Thurnmourer-Jherikra!" the Valkinvar-Staguiffmani snaps, her staff leaning ahead with daring boldness. A razor wind edge the colour of Dragon's Emerald. My eyes follow the magic, my face practically shaded viridian. They land on the badge of honour, holding together the centrepiece of her armour and robes. Like the name the magic is, this sister Valkinvar has earned her right to its name by being a dragon-slayer.
Dragon ivory hair decorations...
"The Zaphadren-Valkinvar cannot order an Ordoar to just remain within the city! It is neither her place nor any of the other Points of the Compass. Only Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia can make such decrees-" the Valkinvar-Wiswipide barks away, her hair flowing with sparks of Dragon Coast Emerald. A slayer of dragons, not just one. Clippings and more than a dozen fallen beasts of such power.
The Valkinvar-Staguiffmani sends her finger forward, a needlessly potent spell flicking out, "The Zaphadren-Valkinvar is our leader."
"YOURS!" the other Ordoar can't help but snap.
"OURS!" what might as well be the Ordoar Staguiffmani shouts back, their voices hollering through magic amplification. My head recoils, blood no doubt warming my ears either side.
"ENOUGH!" I roar with all I have, threatening to smash my sword on the invincible Great Bridge if that is what it takes.
"Step aside, return to your barracks. All of you..." the Valkinvar-Staguiffmani hisses, her body coming dangerously close to her more armoured sister. The Valkinvar-Wiswipide responds in kind, battering her chest ahead with the full force afforded to it by steel plate rich with magic.
"The people of Thurnmourer-Thunlanann depend on us. We shall not be caged for the sake of your tablet keeping!" she hisses, the teachings of Sister Pymonsia quite clear throughout the Ordoar of swordswomen.
"It's about respect for *our* leader!" the Valkinvar-Staguiffmani bites back and our sister Valkinvar scoffs.
"Yes, I know... Yours..." she growls, and the pair gets at it again.
"DO YOU HAVE PROOF OF THIS ORDER!?" I demand to know, making sure the Valkinvar-Staguiffmani can see the medallion clearly, even if my Whisper Beryl coloured power is the weakest within all of the Valkinvar. So long as I have this medallion, my heart will be as stout as it needs to be.
"She. Told. Us!" the Valkinvar-Staguiffmani growls, her authority not enough on its own to carry such weight.
"Well..." a new voice interjects, a gale of power rolling over the entire city half of Thurnmourer-Thunlanann. The Valkinvar-Staguiffmani part, their faces wide with shock and their motions suddenly jittery. Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia walks towards us, her steps seeming so gentle, but each one shakes the entire Great Bridge. Every bird throughout the city either side of the canyon panics, flying away and escaping through the dome.
"Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia!" the Ordoar Wiswipide cheers, their voices delighted while the Ordoar Staguiffmani continues to retreat.
"... I guess I will need to speak with her, then." Sister Pymonsia finishes, her voice brimming with such unnatural wrath as her power continues to throb away into the sky, blinding so many of us. She makes her point and focuses it. Freeing so many of us but continuing to spite the Valkinvar-Staguiffmani. Many of them cry in pain at such force, their own power of flight failing.
Screams fill either side of the Great Bridge and Sister Pymonsia flicks a single wrist. Her magic bursts out, netting the abyss below and catching all who have and are falling. Her eyes narrow at those still in the air or now standing. In a moment of reprieve for the tense moment, a silent order passes through the temple guards and they sheath their weapons.
"Sister Pymonsia..." I utter, not sure if I am even being appropriate with the situation by speaking to her so casually.
"Yes, Sister Vapooliar?" she asks me, her voice becoming strained, skin-thin apparition of what I am used to hearing.
"From what I have learned. The Valkinvar-Staguiffmani have been trying to stop the members of your Ordoar Wiswipide from going over to the other side of the city." I say and the representative of said Ordoar steps forward, her mouth already open in anticipation.
"It is true, Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia. Several of our sisters were heading over when these... Valkinvar..." she tries to answer, her voice straining with contempt at the mere effort of calling our sisters what they are. I step back, uncomfortable before such fury.
"Oh, my dear, do not worry..." Sister Pymonsia coos, stepping forward to hold the centuries old veteran like any mother might do with her son or daughter.
"It's not right..." the Valkinvar-Wiswipide hisses against her superior's arm as she urges her to shush.
"I know. I will speak to *her,* do not worry. There will be answers for this outrage. *She* is fully aware of what being the Zaphadren-Valkinvar means and entails. A first among equals she might be, but she is no leader of the Valkinvar!" Sister Pymonsia goes on, her anger growing as the Valkinvar-Staguiffmani continues to catch her attention. She nods her head, and many of the Ordoar Wiswipide forsake the judgement of everyone else. They make a break for it, flying off with as much speed as they can across the Great Bridge.
An act of solidarity as much as having the back of the initial victims was.
"Accompany me." Sister Pymonsia orders and I cling to her side, my back stiff in the presence of such fine-tuned power. She keeps on walking, her posture and stride still so simplistically graceful despite the overwhelming effort. It eases away, leaving many surprised sounds squealing out around us.
"Where... Where to?" I dare to ask my friend and superior and she looks my way, her eyes burning hot with emotions not meant for me.
"To wherever I am most likely to find the Sister Gemorli." she answers, her words chilly as ice even under such warm halolight, fleeting as it is.