"I'm surprised we managed to recover from such losses." I remark, watching the Zaphadren-Valkinvar delight herself with the extensive display of shattered metals. Like a collection of precious gems, though so blatantly mined from a battlefield, rather than a gorge. No pretty underground rivers, only the churn of blood, mud and long gone boots marching in it. A grim reminder of all we have gained and lost.
"Such is the strength of the Valkinvar. To be so powerful as to leave our enemies reeling in time with us. No recovery on their part faster than anything we ourselves can achieve as well." she says, bringing herself to a stop before a torn up banner of our long-time enemy. A heavy sigh leaves her, one of her hands reaching out to touch the damaged thread. Only for her fingers to flinch back to her mouth, curling up and clutching tightly as uncertainty takes over.
"We could certainly use some of that history with us here in the present." I mutter, approaching the Zaphadren-Valkinvar as her eyes trail off elsewhere. She wanders away in much the same manner, leaving me behind once again. Bells toll throughout the temple and I look around, my original intent rekindled.
"And this is-"
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli, but the reason we are here is not to..." I say, uncertain how far I should go in reminding her of this.
"Ah, yes, of course. My apologies. Please, Sister Valkinvar-Imdvarce, follow me." she says, her sigh almost one of disappointment as we leave behind her continued tour of this particular treasure vault. Oddly, she's taken quite the interest in showing me our bloodiest battles and near defeats. Technically, even them with how she showed off that piece of airship material. Nothing all that intriguing, just a piece of its armour, but still a sign of a defeated one, nonetheless.
I'll have to make a note of this place, however. Make the most of the medallion Sister Pymonsia gifted to me. Depending on how busy a place like this is, it strikes me as a good place to think. Perhaps even find inspiration for solutions to the problems we face.
History is so often the same as the present, though I'm not sure the Valkinvar have ever faced a moment like this in their history. Our history has been one of victory and military innovation, religious sacrosanct and sacred rites. What we face in these dark modern times is nothing short of apocalyptical. A heretic empire is bearing down on us with technology impossibly beyond us as a people.
Still... I should try to find what solutions I can. Offer what advice I can and ask what questions I can. Too much abnormalities are occurring for me to simply shrug any of it off. It makes no sense at all to accept things as they are.
"Sister Valkinvar-Imdvarce." the Zaphadren-Valkinvar calls out, her magic flaring with attention-demanding force. I snap out of my thoughts, focusing on her look and the hand she offers to the open air. I follow its length and the outcurling of its fingers towards an archway of incomprehensible beauty. Most of the temple is ornate, yet this somehow makes it all feel like it is gold and marble next to dry soil.
"Wh-What is beyond here?" I ask, finding the lack of a doorway down the lengthy tunnel to be almost daunting. Somehow, as well, there's magic in the tunnel and the chamber at its end. Magic that prevents my magic from looking down it, keeping my eyes dim and shadowed. Only candles beyond my scope defy such unnatural but safe feeling darkness and even they struggle.
"Quiet." is all she has for my answer, her smile growing as a thought seems to catch on her tongue. I linger, not sure if she has something to tell me.
Moments pass and I step away, heading through the arch to find my place of peace to pray in-
"Valkinvar-Imdvarce. Remind me, what is your name?" the Zaphadren-Valkinvar asks and I look back her way. Were my awe not already occupied, how pitiful she now seems to be would take it fully. A woman of her power and she looks as dull as the most unattuned lowlander beyond the grace of any of the six Guardian Mountains. Let alone our native Wind-Mountain.
"Vapooliar...!?" I answer, spooking myself into a flinch with how much echo this tunnel surprisingly has. I glance around, childlike in my bafflement and much the same with my curiosity.
"Mm. I see." the Zaphadren-Valkinvar answers, vanishing out of view, the light of day being all that keeps her in view. A shadow that casts itself far across the entrance to the chamber. But a pale imitation of the darkness I find myself in, however.
"Now..." I let out, keeping my thoughts on the tunnel for the moment. A gulp fills out my throat and I carry on, looking around at all the holy scripture carved into the walls. Enlightened by painted in precious metals as much as the candlelight gives it depth. Though my voice was loud, my armoured feet could not be any quieter.
It's as if all the armour has been stripped from my body, yet I can still feel the plate. The candlelight shimmers off of its polished curvature as much as it does the gold, silver and more letters. There's a weight to the air and I cannot describe it. One that makes me feel weak in spirit, which in turn drags the body.
"Wow..." I let out, leaving the tunnel and arriving in a vast chamber of darkness. My body aches in pleasure, as if it just popped out a tight space. I keep on walking, still hearing so little despite my dress, and a light slams open. A mechanical device continues to echo and I frown thoughtfully as I carry on the trail.
I can see so little outside of my immediate presence. While my magic is the weakest among the Valkinvar, it is as I know and the Zaphadren-Valkinvar spoke of earlier. I am ironic, the weakest amongst some of the strongest. Whisper Beryl is a shade of magic beyond the scale of what most can achieve in their lifetimes. The final shade before one takes on a true shade of emerald.
Even my features are beginning to change colours, the sign of a great witch in the making. Yet, for all of this, my aura cannot light up more than a couple of halfmans in all directions. An arm's reach another, barely a sword-holding arm's reach if I try. However, such testing only ignites a greater curiosity.
"What the...?" I go, staring at the pale blue magic etched into the steel of my blade. From fuller to edge, it glows brightly with the strength of a torch in such a dark place. An unnatural but comforting darkness. The edge picks up in intensity, directing me towards an almost glowing pathway. One that defies the logic of what darkness should be.
Thoughtful noises catch in my mouth and I carry on, approaching the hole in the roof and the curtains of daylight it has let in. I keep ongoing, picking up the pace as I feel I am getting nowhere. The light isn't coming any closer, but I know I am moving. I know my legs are pushing with all they have.
I leap into the air, throwing myself forward with a burst of power. Yet, even my mighty sonic boom leaves no noise in this chamber. The Mach cone happened, and I saw it burst in the way I might shatter glass in a swift throw... But... I can't move ahead. I'm stationary.
"Odd." is all I can think to say as a hand travels down to my crotch. I cling to the armour over it, my skin sweating ice as I recall the circumstances of my life. I lost my sacred virginity. Is the magic in this place telling me that? It has to be... There's no way the Zaphadren-Valkinvar knew of my secret, so she wouldn't have sent me here to be embarrassed... That makes no-
Huh?
I blink once and hard, staring back the way I came. It's gone. Vanished. No indications or hints of it once being a thing, if at all.
"W-Where did she take me...?" I ask no one, my fears getting the better of me as I step back and wander. I am stuck in darkness that never seems to end. Bar that lone skylight shining down on something. A pedestal? That wasn't there before...
I look back at my sword and its glow, not certain what to make of it. The steel has led me nowhere thus far, and now I am concerned that I am doomed to being lost in the dark. Yet, my blade continues to throb with power, glowing and adjusting that glow as I move it. A guide?
Nonsense. No such things were ever taught to us at our initiations. Not mine, not anyone's. A Valkinvar's weapon is just that, a weapon. A powerful one at that, but it's all they are. Weapons.
Yet, here it seems to have another purpose beyond just that and I can't quite figure it...?
"Out..." I let out, finishing my thoughts in the open as the darkness starts to vanish without explanation. Fading away as simple daylight takes over. It carries on and on, revealing a surprisingly dull and simple chamber with a lone pedestal. A skylight that defies the general shade of the room, but not enough to seem so powerful compared to before.
I approach the pedestal, blinking away as an object incomprehensibly comes into view. A crown? A laurel wreath? A rack for scrolls?
"A laurel of plans and maps... The Crown of Conceptual War." I realise, my eyes widening as much as they also grow heavy with awe. This is one of Waionr's very pieces of gear. An artefact without compare and it's here. Right here. So close and so easily stolen away by lesser hands and yet...
Why am I even allowed to see such masterful bronze, cloth and laurel? This is a holy item belonging to Honourable War himself. I... I'm but a Valkinvar in deception alone. I lost the right almost a decade ago to the osibindah menace. My sacred virginity is gone and my matrimonial scar is just that now, a scar with no value or name.
"I do not understand," is all I can think of saying, the circumstances of my life up until this point getting the better of me. I was defeated in battle, left to bleed out in a most dishonourable manner. In my weakness, I was raped. Defiled of my holy vows and robbed of what made me a Valkinvar.
I hid away for grand-cycles... Years. Years I hid away from my duties as a Valkinvar, as Waionr's Chosen Theocracy burned out of view, but never out of mind. I came back as my home burned, the empire of the Valkinvar and the lands of War himself. They were burning when I came back and nothing has changed to stop that.
So why does such an artefact reveal itself to me? That is what all that stuff before was about, right? A rite of passage to see who is worthy? I should not be worthy in the slightest!
I am not a Valkinvar, anymore... I live among the others, wear their armour and wield their weapons. I even earned the rank of one and fought alongside them. But Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar died nearly a decade ago. I am not the woman that I once was.
But... Perhaps that is why the artefact sees me as worthy? Despite all I have failed with in this life, I am still trying. Still fighting with all I have and so much more. Does such behaviour make me worthy or am I thinking too much into this?
This chamber is vast, but empty. Deprived of most of what has existed up to this point, yet it does not matter. This one piece of treasure is so invaluable the world could break and it would still be there. This is a piece of gear used during the times of Thunder himself, long before even the Ancient Jhermonikra.
"Wait, a moment..." I mutter, my mind trailing back through the history of the Valkinvar, "Is this why we came to call Thurn's Forge our home to begin with? Why we moved away from the Ringed-City of Suhurlodst?"
A huff breaks my lips and a smile curves them up so nicely, like a finely made sabre blade. This is certainly a place to pray in solitude, alright. Out of view and so long as I have this medallion, no one will question my presence here. Though, I must wonder, if this is here, where are the other three main pieces of Lord Waionr's battle gear?