Chapter Text
In lands far north out of sight, the Vers Empire sent their strongest foot soldiers, the Terran Knights, and equivalent in caliber, the Orbital Magi, the empire's most skilled sorcerers and sorceresses, in order to discourage any acts of conquest by its Northern neighbors, the Kvef – the Ice Giants.
Part I: Dragon Knight
=I=
-Slaine-
Cerulean robes emblazoned with fine silver and gold accented ends, wrinkled and crumpled as its wearer desperately tried to climb the walls of ice. Cackling above, a man declared, “Worry not, Slaine Troyard. I'll make sure to deliver your eulogy. Your legend of how you froze in fear before the enemy, cowering in terror as you were struck down for the low born scoundrel that you are!”
Slaine sighed, letting his numbed, chapped and bleeding fingers slide down the wall without resistance and back to his sides. Similarly the hood had fallen as he peered up to see the scarce outline of his bully.
“Maryclian...” he whispered before looking forward. It was futile to try climbing and any magic he could use here would only rebound, spelling outright doom for him and anyone in the vicinity. He was very aware that fellow sorcerers and sorceresses were on top of the ice chasm. They were not involved... surely.
They too were needed for the cause, to impede if not entirely prevent the forthcoming invasion from the North. Reducing this entire chasm to water and steam for him to alone escape was ridiculous. It would compromise the entire operation. He was the fool to be so easily tricked by a noble; no, he was a fool for obediently following the whims of a conceited noble. They were on the battlefield, noble or not did not matter.
It did not matter. He was finished.
Slaine shuddered as a growing, ominous feeling took hold. The wind howled and hissed. The ice began to cackle and crack. New tendrils and icicles formed; the temperature near him, the very air seemed to crystallize.
As he turned, a shadow crept over him and he met the gaze of azure orbs. It was perhaps his first and last encounter with a resident of the Northern lands. An ice giant had somehow fit through the narrow crack in the ice chasm Slaine had been trapped in, or perhaps the ice did the ice giant's bidding. Slaine was in the giant's domain after all; the Orbital Magi had been sent on a daring, ambitious operation. Emperor Gilzeria had commanded them forward to the frontlines, ordaining that they should strike first and display their country's superiority, silencing any possible resistance to Vers' attempts on expansion.
They were all fools.
Slaine clenched his fist and went to punch the ice giant, only to open his palm, releasing an arc of lightning. Upon contact it became fire, and made the ice giant stumble. Slaine rushed forward, diving and sliding between the ice giant’s legs, but came to an abrupt stop.
“ARGH!” Slaine cried and his eyes immediately watered.
He had been slammed face forward onto the ground and where he was touched, he felt his body burn as if seared by the hottest thing on the world – no, it was surely cold.
The confusion of his senses bewildered him, and only amplified as he was forced to flip over and stare face to face with the ice giant... ice giants, more like. His eyes widened, as more had appeared from the entrance and were peering down at him.
The ice giant he had hit no longer matched the others; his dark bark-like skin seemed seared and gray in comparison. It was the very one that pinned him to the ground and surely was slowly freezing him.
A low voice spoke, an ancient tongue Slaine discerned yet found beyond his comprehension, or perhaps his wits had long abandoned him. Looking down to where the ice giant touched his sternum, he noticed black runes start to spread.
“That-that structure-- a curse?!” Slaine slowly, desperately determined.
It dawned on him what exactly the curse was. His eyes emptied. His hopes extinguished. Even if he was to somehow make it out of this alive, he was no use to Her Highness anymore.
At this point perhaps...
Slaine hurried to grasp the ground and rested his head. He was out of options. This was all that was left for him to do.
As he recited the spell, he could hear the ice giants panic. The scorched one tried to silence him by freezing his throat, the very vocal cords. However it was a wasted effort. The vocal component was superfluous for Slaine as long as he could think; speaking the spell only helped him concentrate.
The ice walls cracked and gave way, and Slaine found himself being drowned in an ever increasing pool of the coldest waters. The very foundation of where he lay had also melted away.
***
“There are no miracles.” He was now convinced as he sank.
Deeper and deeper.
Submerging.
Darker and darker until there was nothing but blackness all around. Everything had become distant...
Eerily everything.
His fears
His worries
The urgency
The care...
All of it seemed so meaningless. Even she too was becoming part of that everything.
He had clung onto the life she so saved, doing everything he could in her name. He foolishly continued to believe in miracles for her. Yet with this final turn of events as glyphs and runes of forbidden magic loomed and weaved around him, illuminating in the darkness…
He was certain. There were no miracles. Only assimilation or destruction.
“Will...”
Slaine awoke to the blurry view of a candle light. His eyes watered and it burned. He shivered, joints trembling as he tried to turn away from the candle light and retreat into the blanket. The very action was laborsome and the new sight of his arms brought him to a standstill. Runes alabaster simmered in the darkness. They were restraints, restraints for –
His eyes widened and peered to the source of the voice. He could recognize that voice from anywhere. It belonged to her.
“Will he live?” Asseylum asked once again of the troubled medic.
“Y-yes Princess Asseylum, but like those cursed by the Kvef. Either he becomes one of them or he suffers a frozen heart, slowly dying due to a severe case of hypothermia. And those are only the physical ailments, if we were to consider--”
“Are you telling me there is nothing that can be done but grant him a swift d-” Princess Asseylum interjected before falling silent. She dare not speak the last word.
Slaine relaxed into his bed and stared at the ever blank ceiling. He had been taken back to the Vers Empire and somehow, surely by Princess Asseylum's influence, been taken to the Palace's Medical Ward.
To think that he had been found, and survived the encounter...
He really shouldn't have, since as he had foreseen... he was once more troubling Her Highness.
Days passed... or at least he assumed. The very rays of the sun caused burns upon his flesh and now the curtains were forever drawn. Food had only recently been made to sit around for hours on end and it wouldn’t be long before even at room temperature it would not be able to go down.
The nurses and medics shared the same sentiment as Maryclian, the last noble he had seen. Slaine could just imagine their thoughts. If he could, he would do the honors. He would gladly get out of their hair, yet he couldn’t. She would be even further troubled.
Perhaps someone else would...
“Slaine Troyard. Will you continue to lie there? What became of the valiant young man eager to learn the most beautiful blessings of magic?” Count Saazbaum queried, while standing at the foot of the bed, arms behind his back.
For a moment Slaine could have sworn he was back in the lecture hall, but one look at his far pale wrist and its shimmering enchantments, he knew that was all long ago.
“Not even a word, or has the curse spread that far?” Saazbaum continued to inquire.
“What...” Slaine tried. His voice sounded a ghost of what it once was. When was the last time he dared speak... it mattered not.
“What can... I do... for you... M'lord?”
“There was nothing of goodwill in this visit. There is no goodwill,” Slaine reasoned, and knew that at one point he would have talked himself out of that mindset, but did it matter? No.
Nothing did anymore.
Count Saazbaum had begun pacing, and for a time became quiet, before he pulled back the curtains to reveal it was night. The full moon was out and more than days had long passed. Wreaths and poinsettias filled the town square below. It was that time of the year again. Long ago Slaine felt he had once helped put such decorations up, maybe even accelerated the growth of such plants in the hospital wards to cheer bedridden patients.
To think he would remember it now...
“The emperor passed in the latest battle and we are reaching the point that our very survival may be at stake.”
“The emperor..? Then--”
The count turned and nodded grimly. “Yes, Princess Asseylum has taken the throne, and with it comes the decision of whether or not to use Aldnoah to conclude the war she has inherited.”
“But Aldnoah...”
“Yes... According to the scriptures, Aldnoah will--”
“... Please. Let me.” Slaine interrupted, and dared try to sit up for the first time in forever. He could feel his joints crack after months of disuse. “You... You can't let her.”
“In your current state Troyard, you most likely will never return to even that form.”
“That's fine. I don't care. This life...” Slaine grasped the one piece of his uniform that remained – a silver amulet. “If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be alive today, so if it can be of use to save hers...”
Count Saazbaum nodded and knelt, “For the Empress.”
“For the Empress,” Slaine matched.
-Inaho-
Amidst a battlefield, a blade pierced to the ground and its wielder fell to his knees, clutching its hilt for a moment of repose. The swordsman panted, huffing white clouds in the freezing air, and looked to the land below where lay the damned. He grit his teeth and clutched his left eye, which was heavily covered by a bandage wrap; it was still a fresh wound. Wherever his remaining crimson eye looked, he saw nothing but red, red where there should be nothing but whiteness.
"We're losing ground," Inaho assessed as he stumbled to his feet. His vision blurred momentarily yet he mustered every ounce of willpower he could to maintain focus. Bodies -- both allies and enemies -- surrounded him. Was he the last to stand in this area?
The bushes began to shake all around and once more Inaho wielded his sword for the incoming enemies. He was certain they were not allies, for their footsteps were louder, heavier and sluggish – understandable considering they were giants; they were from the kingdom across the wastelands to the north.
"I've already been found; escape is a futile effort at this point..." Inaho considered his options.
His logic was flawed; however, in the deep parts of his mind he knew that as the only one standing of his brigade, he could perchance hide and by a slim chance, survive. But he could no longer leave this land; his reasons to remain in this world were here. At the corner of his eye he glanced at some of his fallen allies -- particularly one with long brown hair that had shielded a pair of cadets much like himself. They had been his sister and childhood friends.
Revealing themselves under the moonlight, numerous ice giants surfaced from the forest and circled Inaho. Inaho renewed his grip on his sword, preparing himself for the end but caught sight of something glimmering overhead. He initially paid no heed until he saw his enemies start to scurry and flee. What he had seen shimmering was a mass of silver light. The longer he stared in awe, the more clearly he could see its shape as a dragon, which headed to the horizon; within moments, unnaturally the North Lights amassed. The Aurora Borealis danced, piercing and bleeding through the curtain of night. The ground had momentarily shuddered before a strong gust of wind passed by -- surely an aftershock.
Inaho grimaced, once more cementing his feet onto the ground, and cast a grounding spell by reciting a chant in his mind; an orange glyph appeared and pulsated underneath him. Another shockwave passed through but this time accompanied by a saddened cry. The aftershock that followed came with a cyan glow.
"An ice spell?" Inaho pondered.
Looking forward, the knight came face to face with a frozen ice giant; a spell of absolute zero must have been used to even render the giant dead from cold. All enemies had been turned into statues of ice and the land all around had become a spectacle of ice. The land that once was a field of bloody corpses had returned to its seemingly pure white; as if the snow could serve as the blanket for those who had fallen.
Inaho slowly relaxed and sheathed his sword before looking to his palms.
He had survived what became known as Heaven's Fall.