#ardus

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The Empress Part 5

Ardus put itself between her and The Empress. The Emperor was still in fine condition where he sat, not at all bothered by the turn of events. He wasn't her target after all. He seemed to be hardly aware of her existence at all and was only staring forward as if he would prefer to be asleep at the moment.

She cut through a few of the plants, making certain they wouldn't grow too tall and try to ensnare her as she stepped out of the water, it spilling down her back. "You don't have to fight me. You might be her knight, or whatever, but you can stand aside! Just let me take her out."

Ardus couldn't do that. The Empress was more than just its master, she was its everything. She was the only reason it had to exist. It settled into its fighting stance, its wide sword over its head as if it were a crane, beak ready to pluck at prey. It would break through her saber easily.

She rolled her eyes and dashed forward, jumping over one of the already rotten bodies to strike at it. A flesh. It knew how to avoid that type of attack but it wouldn't allow itself to. It stood in the way and brought its blade down, not hitting her with the edge but the blunt of it, smacking her over the head as the tip of the saber struck its breastplate and folded, her aim knocked awry by the pain.

Her plan hadn't been to hurt it but to frighten it, make it move out of the way, and then she would be able to get to The Empress without such a violent obstacle.

"Don't kill her!" The Empress called out from her hiding place behind her husband's throne, "Just knock her out. I have questions for her."

It nodded in its understanding.

The stranger was shaking her head, rubbing at the place where the blade had struck her. The pommel against her temple would be enough to steal her consciousness. She was a mortal, after all, not even a card. That was curious, It didn't know that normal people could enter this place. It didn't know of any. The attendants of The Empress's court were just constructs, after all.

"Please," she begged, holding her saber out, the long blade pointing directly at Ardus' chest once more. "Please, just let me be. She took everything from me. Let me stop her from taking anything from anyone else."

Ardus grabbed the blade and snapped it, dropping the metal to the floor. She watched how it clanked onto the gold. She slowly raised her head, looking at Ardus, pleading, "You don't know how long it took me to get to this point; how badly I need this."

She took a step backward as it approached her, but its steps were much longer than hers, much more confident. She was already weak and confused from the first strike. When it brought the sword down again, this time striking her with the pommel, she fell easy, almost to easy. It was as if she'd just given up on her goal, knowing that there was no way she would ever win.

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King of Swords Part 1

The manor was a sprawling arboretum, light hitting everything and beautiful spiraling vines climbing up the pillars and stairs, all of the marble buried beneath greenery. It was so different from the marble that Ardus was used to, was warm to the touch and cracked without care. The plants were what mattered and they did well flowers budding and bursting into fruition as it gazed on them. The air was filled with butterflies, dragonflies, and bees, safe and healthy in this space.

This space that Ardus was spoiling.

It was not made for beauty nor care, it was made for destruction. It could see that the space was beautiful but he felt nothing for it. When it stepped on thick moss it turned dark and flat under its footing. Its sword was heavy but a known weight and it slid through bone and armor as easily as it did meat and wing.

This place was habituated, by knights of their own caliber, their armor little more than chitinous scale, their wings the same as the insects that they were so careful not to harm. Indeed they did have an extra set of spindly limbs that they used for another sword, but they were no match for Ardus. They were fast but it was faster. They could fly but it could hear wear they were coming from. They were agile but it never tired. None of them had even dented its armor.

So it was free to explore the manor, making its way up the spiraling staircase and towards its prize.

The highest room in the highest tower, where trees had grown up and through the flooring, pushing it up and away from the stairs, making Ardus ascend up to it in a desire more for efficiency than anything else. Upon the floor there was red sand and the pits of a thousand fruits, all surrounding the white throne in the center, where the King of Swords sat and watched, his ever loyal angel hovering over his left shoulder. His blue tunic and purple cape were bleached by the many days under the sun as he'd watched his plants grow and his skin was a deep leathery tan.

Ardus stepped forward, hand over its heart as if to pledge some level of respect to the ancient king. But it was here to kill the man and take his withered heart back to its master and the King knew this.

"So, he doesn't bother to face me himself?" the King asked, tilting his head and looking Ardus over. "Sends one of his little toys to finish me off?"

Ardus got into position, holding the massive sword with its deep runes up at shoulder height, pointing at the King's head. It did not move forward, not yet, for it did not know which of the two would accept its challenge first. It should not have given them a choice, should not have given them a moment to think, but as much as it had been formed into its master's desires it still had a few quirks of its own, almost enough to be considered a personality.

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King of Swords Part 3

It was black, through and through, like a burned steak with only a sliver of red at the very center and it curled in and tried to hide that softness, that thing that still screamed within it, that still demanded to exist after all this time.

There were no sins to be seen, no evil to be judged. A sword on its own had no malice in it, regardless of how much blood it had gotten drunk on. A furnace had no appetite, regardless of how much it was fed. It was a tool, nothing more, and it did as its master bade.

A hint of fear surged through it as the pupils split and tendrils of vines came out to grab it, reaching around its limbs and pulling taught, making it straight. It writhed, tried to pull free. Nude before something so much stronger than it, that was nothing new, but it was something that tore at it still. It had the shame of a shovel and yet it still had a hint of humility within that fleshy pink thing.

"You poor thing," the angel said, the vines in its eyes caressing it, touching it so tenderly, sliding between muscle and tendon and bone, opening its chest and looking more closely. "What were you, once upon a time?"

It didn't know. Part of it did, of course, but there were years and walls and so much in between now and then, there was no way to recall if those memories were its own or someone else's. When it did remember it forced aside for memories only ever caused pain, either in the flesh or in the mind.

"Who did this to you?"

Even if it wished to it could not say its masters name, nor her title. The angel already knew who had sent it, who wanted them dead, they didn't need to ask. It was a simple continuation of thought.

One of the vines touched its heart and it writhed. It was white hot, pure clean energy striking it, trying to seep in, to pour through the black and change it into itself, to fix it. Ardus had no need nor desire to be fixed. It was better to be like this than to delude itself into enjoying the weakness it had before she'd raised it. The white hurt, ash in its mouth, and it struggled, clawed, tore itself free. It grabbed onto a few of the vines and tugged, pulling the eyed wings closer.

It reached out for its sword and called it into being, in this space, parallel to the world, it could summon its own strength, its own power, and it sliced through the wing, sawing it off in jagged motions.

The scream was delayed as the world around it shattered, hairline fractures before the real world poured in like molten honey. It pushed out, kicking against the wings with its pointed

Sabatons. clutching and tearing at the remaining sinews between the wing and the body.

The angel grabbed it in its pain and rage, with its hands instead of its wings, and threw it across the room. It clutched at its sword and, when it's back crashed against one of the remaining walls, it felt its spine would break.

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king of swords part 4

It fell, not to the floor for there was a massive hole there, but through to the stairs beneath. Its leg crumpled beneath it and there was a terrible cracking sound as its weight made the bone break. It stood up anyway. It had had worse and it would have worse if it failed. It couldn't feel the limb anyway.

A few quick leaps and it was back to the roof in again, the angel at the stairwell, ready for it, the king's sword in hand, at the ready.

"You are but a mortal," the angel hissed, "behave like one!"

But it was not so it did not. It pushed forward, pressing its sword up and against and when the angel brought its sword down, attempting to meet it, it allowed its broken leg to crumple beneath it, so that it would fall out of the angel's range. It swung upward, deflecting the blade and kicked off, getting further, getting closer.

There was no way to escape the angel's gaze. They knew it was coming from so many angles. It couldn't surprise it in movement, only in what it was. It drew close, slicing outward, cutting at each limb that tried to stop it, drawing blood a few times, removing a couple fingers, unleashing bellows. It was buffeted with wings, and scratched at by nails.

It knew how to take down men and all manner of beasts, knew to pull the hearts free of the nastiest of foes to keep them from healing and fighting again, but on an angel, it had no knowledge of where the heart would be. Its master had entrusted it to be able to deal with the foes assigned it though, so it had no reason to doubt its ability in destroying it.

It shoved its sword deep into the angel's chest as it shrieked, the sound deafening to most, and twisted before pulling the blade free. Its blood gushed out, far too thin, and settled into the grooves of Ardus' armor. They were still moving, still fighting against it, and when they grabbed its shoulder and started to squeeze, buckling the metal, it knew it had no time to reach in and search for their heart.

It dragged the sword up, meaning to cut through its wrist and free itself, but it went over, struck the angel's pyramid of faces, and pierced the shining, almost metal of it. The head gushed, the eyes on it all opening at once as the mouths turned into terrible scowls.

The angel struggled further, more violent than before, no longer trying to beat Ardus but to get away from it. They released its shoulder, wings either weak and unmoving on its back or flapping wildly. Its legs were peddling backwards, the space between head and body growing wider, stretching.

Ardus shoved up harder. They had touched its heart and only one was meant to know that space. The metallic skin cracked and, under pressure, broke, letting more blood spray out from beneath it. The angel grabbed at its head, tried to push Ardus away, but it dodged easily enough.

The king was screaming. So was the angel. Neither of their pains meant a thing to Ardus.

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The Empress Part 2

It stepped inside and the warmth of the sun, even through the canopy, fell away into a terrible icy cold. There was still life here, but the vines crawling down the walls were withered and white and limp, the plants in their pots were wilted and sagging. Where gems had been laid in the walls were empty sockets or dull, unimpressive things. No one who cared had walked down the halls in a long long time. What joy had been given was taken selfishly, and she had used it all for her own benefit. Just as she had used everything.

The throne room and the bed chamber were the only places still opulent within the temple, as they were the only places The Empress still spent her time within, aside from her visits to the womb. It was sure that she went other places, though it had never seen her do so. Never saw the emperor go anywhere either, but he was as able to do as he pleased as Ardus was.

Ardus entered the throne room, much to the delight of the plump young people splashing about in the two pools, one on either side of the pair of thrones. They were always happy to see Ardus and, many times, they had tried to seduce it into joining them in the warm waters. It was only three steps down, made fully of gold, and there were lily pads floating upon it. Those within were all of elegant dark skin, varying from tan to black, though their hair was all braided straw. It did not know if they came before or after it had but it seemed they were never changing.

"Ah, at last," The Empress smiled from her throne, a broad lounge chair of ruby velvet and cascading fabrics in other virtuous shades of red. "I was wondering if you were coming back to me."

It stepped past the pools and to her, kneeling at her feet, head bowed. It reached to the pouch at its side and drew The King of Swords from it, holding it up for her to see.

She practically squealed with excitement, snatching it from Ardus and looking it over. "Oh wonderful, how wonderful! You really are a master. I did well to form you into who you are today, Ardus!"

Ardus looked up at her, face hidden beneath its horned helmet.

It was not of an opinion on what made a person beautiful, nor a place, its understanding of such concepts coming from the tales of others. The Empress, however, it knew to be the most beautiful woman to ever exist. She was fat and dressed in sheer white fabrics, her pale skin like moonlight brushing against it. Even the cosmos favored her for a dozen stars morphed from constellation to constellation in the space above her own golden braids. Her eyes were round and green and her lips plump and easy to smile.

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The Empress Part 1

The forest was as lush as ever, as present and demanding. It stepped through with its chin raised, the pollen wafting off the nearby trees, always at the height of their productivity. The trees themselves were a tad too wide, a bit too narrow, everything perfectly placed so that nothing touched. It was the sort of place that was so green and plentiful that it felt like a dream.

Ardus did not have dreams.

The path to the black tower was grown over, as it always was when it returned, and it could not be seen through the deep canopy. It did not need a trail regardless, it had been here so many times, had come to be in the center of the forest, that it did not need directions. It was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other.

Its broken leg was bothering it. There was no pain to it but it was the fact that the leg didn't move the way that it wanted it to that was the issue. Walking on it was slow and it listed to the side a bit, wasn't as efficient as it was want to be. The sooner it made it to The Empress the sooner it would be fixed.

So it walked through the underbrush, upsetting the birds and other wild things that had stepped out to peer at it, and made it all the way to the pristine little lake in the middle. It was large enough to be a lake though it settled more like a pond, with the hand placed stones at its edge. There was a bridge, that was made up of branches, too weak to support it and too narrow for it to even think to try, that came from either side of the water and braided into a doorway. The water was smooth and perfect,  mirroring the sky and itself and the trees around it.

It did not look at itself, it's reflection did not match what it believed itself to be.

It set off a myriad of ripples as it stepped over the barricade, trudging forward, its armor weighing it down to nicely sink to the lake's floor. It was fairly shallow and it did not keep Ardus aloft at all, so it was free to move as it pleased. It made it to the doorway in the middle, and looked down into the reflection.

What wasn't in the forest was a beautifully ornate temple, the curved domes of it trellised glass that had roses growing over it. In the reflection it stood tall and proud, shining gold mixing with oxidized copper to make intricate designs in the few flat walls. It stepped through the doorway and into the reflection, walking out the same way that it had come, to the end of the lake and over the barrier, into the courtyard. Like the rest of the forest the courtyard was overgrown with such plenty, fruit trees hanging heavy, bees buzzing merrily about their work. This was, to those who had come before, a utopia, though it was only that to an unobservant newcomer. Someone who had been inside the temple would know that the feast and joy of this place was not for the masses, but had been taken in for the one.

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King of Sword Part 6

One more thrust and then it pulled back, pulling the plate the rest of the way off and its sword free. Beneath the plate was just loose meat, made soggy and pulsing from the pain. It reached up with its other hand and snapped the head the rest of the way off.

The angel stopped struggling. It went still, mostly.

"You have lost yourself, little one. There's still a shred of you, hold onto it, let it grow."

It crushed the head in its hand.

The body fell to the side soon after, decaying into a miniature garden of its own quickly enough. The sun was shining on it and it allowed lush green grass to sprout from its wings, the eyes into rose bushes, the blood into technicolor flowers. Butterflies and other insects immediately took to it, feeding off the decadence of angel essence.

Ardus stepped over it, stepped towards the king.

He was feeble and old but he was standing now, ivy growing through the hole in his chest where the sword had been resting, spilling down his front like an elaborate boutonniere. There were more vines, like threads, holding him to his throne, stretching and growing and blossoming. It was as if one fed off the other but it was impossible to tell which way it was going.

"You killed them," he said, as if he hadn't just seen it happen. "An angel, my only advisor and friend, and you killed them."

Ardus tilted its head. It did not matter that the king was sad, that there were tears streaming down his face, he would be dead soon enough and Ardus would be done with this mission. It flicked the massive sword, freeing it of some of the angel's blood.

The king picked up his own sword, tugging it free of the plants that had grown over it. He looked it over, then over at Ardus.

"You and I are meant to fight, are we not?" he asked, drawing closer. His sword was at his side though, in his shaking old hand, not at the ready. "That's what she wants. For you to overpower and kill me? Well, I won't have it."

It didn't matter what the king wanted. He would die here. Ardus would not fail.

It did not expect the king to drop to his knee in the space that the angel's head would have been , allowing poppies to sprout around him, clutching his sword before him and bowing his head like he was the knight and Ardus the king.

"I will not fight you. I will not give her that satisfaction. So be done with it, if you please."

Ardus lifted its sword and, with one strike, knocked the king's head from his old body. As with the others his body fragmented, turned to light and shimmer, and then faded away, leaving a long slender card where he'd been.

Ardus picked up its prize and breathed. It would need healing, both for its legs and for its mind. It had been too exposed, too obvious. It knew though, that The Empress would be pleased with its work. It turned from the manner and, without the king's power to keep the deck apart, stepped out to The Tower.

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The Empress Part 7

Ardus spent the next few days exploring the forest on both sides of the lake, making sure no one else was coming for The Empress. It found nothing, not even a scout, and decided that the woman had come on her own on some vendetta or other. It was impossible for it to know what she had come here for.

When it wasn't out in the forest it stayed in the throne room. If there was any sort of issue, it would be there to protect its master. The Empress was fine, her wounds having sprouted yarrow flowers as they healed. They weren't very deep and there was no worry of them infecting or scarring. There were new guests in the pools, the bodies of the old ones had been swept away, and there was nothing to show that there had ever been a threat.

Ardus hadn't even found the attacked. It hadn't really looked all that hard but it was strange that when The Empress went into the dungeons it was told to stay in the throne room. It had expected that it would accompany her, just to make sure that she was safe. The Empress had not taken any further harm so it assumed that she was alright on her own.

"Strange isn't it?" The Emperor grumbled one night, when the pair of them were alone in the throne room. He did not leave the room, not even for bed, his old wrinkled body unable to even carry him that far. It was not his fault that he was so weak, he had been bond with a bronze chain, the cuffs heavy and thick around his wrists long before Ardus had first seen him. He may have been powerful once, may have held power, but The Empress had put him beneath her. "That woman. She had a lot of nerve, coming in here. You'd think The Empress would take her to the womb, make her like you."

Ardus did not think. It did not question. The Empress knew what was right.

"You will do as I command, yes?" The Emperor asked, "As long as it does not interfere with her orders?"

Ardus nodded. It would never compromise her plans.

The Emperor coughed, rolling forward and hacking terribly. This was more than he'd ever said in Ardus' presence before. Ardus went to the pool and, from one of the women lounging in the water, collected a bottle of elderberry wine and a goblet. It brought both to The Emperor and poured him a glass to help settle his throat.

The Emperor drained the glass and coughed some of it out onto his beard, staining it pink. "She's ordered you not to accompany her down to the dungeons but I want you to go there on your own, once she goes to bed. That woman isn't the only one down there. I think it would benefit you."

Ardus stared at him, thinking it over. Usually it didn't need to think things over but it had to make sure that this would not go against The Empress.