Chapter 16: Chapter 15: The Commanders

“Amelia, you’re okay!” Birgitta called as Amelia stood before them. Guards and nurses crowded around, trying to see the Queen’s condition—but she was fast asleep, her long, beautiful hair draped over her body like a blanket.

“Mom…” Elvira whispered as Amelia approached. She reached for her mother’s hand. “She’s okay… thank the goddess.”

“You were supposed to wait in Breshire.” Amelia said with a blank expression, as if she’d seen a ghost. Though the only person she seemed interested in talking to was Elvira.

“W-well, I—” Elvira stammered.

“Amelia, what happened to the dragon?” Deimos asked. “Did you defeat it?”

She gave no answer, walking past Elvira, Birgitta, and Deimos in silence.

“...Amelia?” Deimos called.

Did she not hear me?

The three followed her, along with nearly everyone in the hall except the nurses tending the wounded. Confusion drove them after her, all wishing to see the Queen.

Amelia ascended the stairs to an altar. She stared at it before preparing to lay the Queen down. The crowd watched.

Something feels wrong… Deimos thought, clenching his fist as he moved to confront her—until a voice cut through the air.

“Oh dear… this is worse than I thought.” The feminine voice drew every eye. Amelia’s head snapped toward it.

A woman stood there, weary blue eyes, hazel hair, a rapier at her side. Black light armor trimmed with gold bore the same moon crest as the other guards.

“It seems we were too late,” a deep, masculine voice said beside her.

The speaker’s blonde hair framed eyes with black pupils. His heavier armor was layered beneath a cloak like cape, a long, ornate longsword at his hilt.

The guards turned and, upon seeing them, dropped to their knees. Amelia’s gaze sharpened.

“Who are those two?” Deimos muttered as Elvira ran to them, smiling in relief.

“T-those are the other two leading commanders of Dol Marne,” Birgitta breathed.

“Other leading commanders?” Deimos asked. “I thought Amelia was the only one.”

“Fatima!” Elvira cried, hugging the woman.

“Princess, there you are!” Fatima returned the embrace, pulling back to study her. “My, my, you’ve grown so much.”

“Of course not,” Birgitta said. “Amelia only commands the northern region of Dol Marne’s army.” She pointed to the woman Elvira clung to.

“That there is Commander Fatima Castellane—the fourth in rank. She commands the western region of Dol Marne's army.” She explained.

“She’s the only commander among them born from poverty, and she’s isn’t an Avatar either. Even so, her battlefield intuition is so precise it borders on the supernatural. So much so that some even suspect she’s lying about her not being an Avatar.”

“I’ve gotten really good at using my Signature now, too!” Elvira smiled, like a child showing off to their parent.

“That’s wonderful,” Fatima said warmly, scanning the room. “But… where is Prince Remus?”

Elvira hesitated, then pointed toward the corner where nurses worked over the unconscious prince, his body a patchwork of stitches and bandages.

“No…” Fatima hurried to him.

“When the commanders still lived in the royal castle, she was the one who protected Prince Remus,” Birgitta said quietly.

“I see…” Deimos muttered.

Jeez, she must really be strong to have watched over that guy, he thought, running his fingers over the bandages covering his own claw marks.

His gaze shifted to the blonde man, whose eyes were fixed entirely on Amelia. A tension hung in the air between them.

“What about him?” Deimos asked. “His Soul Core feels… calm. Like a steady stream.”

Birgitta’s expression hardened. “That’s rank two—Commander Eamon Bairre Fearadaigh. He commands the southern region of Dol Marne and is the last of the Fearadaigh bloodline, a well known lineage due to Undine’s having a natural affinity towards them.”

“An Undine? Well that explains why the Arkhaic energy around his Core flows like water. He must have made a contract with one,” Deimos said. Birgitta nodded.

“Exactly. And because of that, many consider him the strongest commander out of them. He and Amelia have fought for the number one rank spot for as long as I can remember, each match ending with a different victor.”

Birgitta scratched her head, trying to recall, “If I remember correctly, I believe he was the sworn sword of Queen Selene herself.”

“Amelia,” Eamon called out, voice low and steady, “Is the dragon finally dead?”

Silence stretched thick between them. “No,” Amelia answered flatly.

“I weakened the dragon enough for her to free the Queen from her grasp, but when I moved to take the Queen, the dragon fled at that moment.”

“I see,” Eamon said.

The silence lingered.

“So not only did you let the dragon escape—again—but the Queen’s life was in jeopardy, and the entire Royal Castle was invaded,” he said, voice edged with accusation.

“What do you mean, ‘again’?” Amelia’s brow furrowed sharply.

I’ve never seen Amelia this tense, Deimos thought.

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“When it invaded Calveth,” Eamon continued, “you ‘weakened’ it there too. Yet it still got away.” His irises flickered faint blue.

“All at the cost of Lancelot’s life.”

“Lancelot?” Deimos asked quietly. “Who’s that?”

Birgitta’s face went pale. “Commander Lancelot du Valcourte, Knight of Roses,” she said, voice trembling. “He was the third-ranked commander—before he...” Her eyes closed in grief.

“What are you trying to say?” Amelia demanded, her eyes blazing red as she locked with Eamon’s gaze.

“Okay, okay...” Fatima returned, hands raised. “Break it up, both of you.” The guards glanced between the commanders, confused by the tension.

“It’s good to see you again, Amelia,” Fatima said softly. Amelia said nothing. “What are you two doing here?”

“We were notified the castle was under attack and came immediately,” Eamon said, scanning the destruction and wounded.

“You obviously couldn’t handle it on your own.”

“Don’t bash her,” Deimos said sharply. Amelia’s expression softened briefly, surprised by his defense.

“The dragon wasn’t the only threat. Multiple factors led to this chaos. This was a planned assault,” Deimos said, brushing past the crowd and fixing Eamon with a hard stare.

Eamon’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?”

Deimos faltered under the weight of the voice.

“Wait—that’s him, isn’t it?” Fatima said, eyes wide. “The Sun Tarot!”

Deimos nodded. “That’s right. I am Deimos, the Tarot of the Sun.”

Eamon sighed. “Of course. Your freakishly white hair should have given it away.”

He stepped closer, looming over Deimos.

“Though I can barely sense any Arkhaic energy in your Soul’s Core—less than any Tarot.”

“W-well, that’s because...” Deimos muttered, glancing toward Remus.

“It was nearly depleted during my fight with...” Before he could finish, Amelia stepped between them. Queen Selene lay on the altar behind.

“Frankly, Eamon, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit,” Amelia said firmly.

“People died today. Instead of focusing on that, you insult us for how we handled an invasion we weren’t even aware of.”

They held each other’s gaze. Eamon sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Amelia. I guess I just overestimated the capabilities of Dol Marnes’ Scarlet Knight.” He glanced at Amelia, then Deimos.

“And the Sun Tarot.”

He brushed past them, heading toward the altar where Selene lay.

“Sorry about that,” Fatima said, offering a worried smile. “He’s still shaken from what happened in Calveth.”

“It’s fine,” Deimos replied.

Eamon lifted the Queen carefully, turning back to face the gathered crowd.

“The commanders of Dol Marne have united once more, driven by a common enemy,” he declared, casting a sharp glance at Amelia, who returned it with equal intensity.

“For nearly two decades, this dragon has ravaged our lands, leaving destruction wherever it flew. But it made its greatest mistake attacking the heart of the kingdom.” His voice seemed to echo through the room as he spoke.

“That mistake will be its last. Starting tomorrow, training will be enforced twice daily—morning and evening. Preparations will be made, and allies will come to our aid. It’s time for the people of Dol Marne to rise and fight back against this relentless scourge. Our families will no longer live in fear and ruin. We will fight to reclaim our lives.”

"A hand formed entirely of water emerged from his body, reached for his longsword, unsheathed it, and raised it high above Eamon's head as if to reinforce his vigor."

“By the end of this month, that dragon will be dead—that I promise you!” His voice thundered, and the guards raised their weapons in cheer.

Deimos and Birgitta exchanged a glance as Eamon carried the Queen through the crowd, past Amelia, the water hand sheathing his blade back, before fading.

“Where are you going?” Fatima asked.

“I’m taking the Queen to her chambers and will stand guard until she wakes,” he said, reaching the grand hall doors.

“When she awakes, she will share her wisdom—and perhaps give us the orders we need to finally slay this beast.”

He said before phasing through the door without opening it, water swirling around his form as he vanished behind the threshold.

“Amelia, are you alright?” Deimos asked, observing Amelia’s clenched fists.

“Why wouldn’t I be? My comrades have finally returned.” She forced a smile, then walked toward Princess Elvira, who was speaking with Fatima.

Thats odd… Deimos noticed.

“Deimos,” Birgitta called from behind.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“If this is an appropriate time, I’d like to reevaluate your Soul Core before I leave,” she said.

“Before you leave? Where are you headed?”

“I’m returning to Breshire to await Elizabeth’s return. I’m uneasy about how erratic she’s been. I’m used to the more laid back, bitchy version of her,” Birgitta admitted.

“Lately, she’s grown anxious. I wonder if it’s because of whatever she left in Hawthorn.”

“Then we should hurry,” Deimos said, smiling. She nodded, and they moved to a secluded corner where a small table stood.

Without a word, Deimos sat. Birgitta reached into her pocket for the diagnostic emitter.

“Let me know if this hurts,” she said. Deimos shrugged. “Sure thing, doctor.” He chuckled; Birgitta blushed.

Her eyes glowed turquoise as tendrils extended from her fingertips, connecting to the device.

“I designed this update specifically for you. Let’s hope it works,” she muttered. Before Deimos could respond, she placed a hand on his chest and laid him down.

The tendrils phased through his body instantly, scanning his soul.

Birgitta immediately began examining his Soul Core, searching for the fissure she had seen before.

The tendrils twisted around the core as the device printed Deimos’s diagnostic report.

She located a small pink fissure near the core’s base.

“There you are,” she said, moving a tendril closer. It opened to reveal a glowing blue syringe.

Without hesitation, Birgitta applied the gel-like substance onto the crack. It solidified almost immediately.

The emitter beeped softly as the diagnostic completed.

“Yes!” Birgitta cheered, retracting her tendrils.

Deimos looked at her. “You don’t look panicked this time. Good sign?”

“Good is an understatement. I was terrified it wouldn’t work,” she said, checking the diagnostic sheet.

“Well, what did you do?” Deimos asked.

“I applied a metaphysical stabilizing agent to the periphery of your Soul Core matrix to inhibit recurrent curse activation.”

Deimos blinked. “What?”

“In simpler terms, I put glue on your Soul Core,” she said, scratching her head with a smile.

“It should stop the curse from spreading or evolving.”

“Wow,” Deimos murmured. “And you made this in one night? You’re incredible, Birgitta.”

Her face flushed.

“It’s nothing really... just try not to overexert yourself. This solution is only temporary; I’ll need to reapply it in a few days before it wears off, while I work on a better version.”

“Understood.” Deimos glanced at the sheet. “May I see it?”

“Of course.” She handed it to him. The diagnostic read:

[Soul Core Diagnostic v0.7 – ALPHA]

Core Type: Divine!Core

Core Stability: [91%]

Soul Polarity: Preservation

Path Alignment: Concord

Depth Rating: [V/V]

Friction: Negligible

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“Your core’s stability is a bit low, probably from overexertion in battle,” Birgitta explained. “Nothing to worry about though; it should improve with time.”

Deimos returned the paper. She pocketed the device as he stood.

“Well, I should go,” Birgitta said. They walked toward the grand hall’s entrance. “My carriage’s probably been waiting for thirty minutes.” She laughed.

Deimos smiled. “See you later, Birgitta.”

She waved without turning. “Be seeing you, Tarot of the Sun.”