37th of Frost, 120
They made it to the second floor under the cover of the alliance he'd formed; they'd not have been able to make it that far if not for the diversion of the raid. Beyond the front wall of the manor he crept through, nameless, Savant, and Lustrians did battle with hollows and knights alike. In the clash with the wall of hollows alone, many of the infantry were injured and killed. But With Asmodei's aid, they inevitably broke through the line, then returned fire on the Argent.
The knights raised their heavy shields for protection from the bullet spray while they made their advance; steadily approaching the attackers. Round after round, the bullets produced and fired by Lorien's citizens and nameless alike bounced off the surface of the shields and missed entirely. Something had to change or the knights would close the gap and slaughter the remaining rioters.
So, Arkash and his small group of selected infiltrators took positions in the windows of the upper floor, aimed from above, and fired on his mark. Two of the three gunshots landed as the marksman intended while the native rien missed entirely. Arkash's bullet struck the back of the middle-knights helm while the Koltoskan's buckled the knee of the leftmost shield wielder. All of a sudden, the knight's defense was broken, and the next spray of gunfire broke through their line and knocked another three to the floor, wounded.
Confusion set among the knights as some turned to catch a glimpse of Arkash and his selected team in the windows while others produced their own firearms and opened fire on the gathered citizens and nameless alike. Another spray of bullets landed its mark as the second row of riflemen blasted the remaining Argent. Likewise, Arkash's team's rifles had finished their cool down. They took aim and fired on the remaining bastion; striking them in the head, knee, and shoulder with impacts enough to dent and halt their movement. The shield-bearer dropped, and the remaining Argent were left exposed to the prior row's gunfire.
Before their rifles could cool down, the knights broke into a charge for the line of riflemen, and the sight alone was enough to break morale. Arkash's riflemen split like the red sea in an effort to evade the Argent's blades, and the rest of their line broke in an effort to close around the remaining knights. Again, Arkash took aim, but firing through the crowd was difficult. He couldn't shoot those that had thrown their swords in with him.
With a furrowed brow, he breathed out and gently squeezed the trigger as the knights began to cleave through the crowd. The moment the Argent cut down their only line of defense; one of Ark's fellow nameless, he fired the rifle to launch his round directly into the square of their helm's forehead. The impact echoed the boom of a hammer on an anvil and knocked the knight clean off their feet. Two remained. The riflemen broke away and ran to the house while Asmodei clashed with the knights to divert their attention. In the end, the gunners had taken the courtyard, and the knights were left on the gate's side of the estate, separated from their lord by a wall of rifles.
Asmodei leaped hard then and caught himself on black wings to climb high above the line of fire. As the men took aim at the velsign, another spray of gunfire bombed them and pierced their plate as rifle rounds sprayed the cobbled streets behind them with bursts of snow and dust. In the end, the remaining Argent were left kneeling, bloody and broken in several patches of their armor. The ability to fight was stolen from them with numerous debilitating injuries and buckled plates that inhibited movement. The night was theirs.
Arkash's ears rang in wake of all the gunshots, but he smiled while he steadied his breath, and lifted his eyes from the sight of his rifle. They'd pulled through; they'd actually taken a lord's Manor with sheer numbers and firepower. Fayeth's tactics were invaluable, of course. Arkash could have never thought to enforce their assault with three lines of infantry.
It all wasn't without its price though, as so many had been killed in the exchange. Arkash ultimately didn't care for their loss, and it showed in his sampling of their victory. He felt nothing but joy at the sight of the broken knights. What he saw was justice, the chaos he craved, and the restoration and rebalancing of power. His claws shook, his whole body trembled as something within him pulsed in the realization of what had occurred that night, but it wasn't over. he approached a precipice and had yet to fall into the abyss of what came next.
"Arkash," Fayeth's voice spoke over the ambient ringing in his ears. The sounds of cheering and weeping began to fill the background. Arkash continued to stare at the sight before him; an abolished order, the restoration of chaos. "Arkash!" She called again, but he didn't listen. Below, they celebrated and grieved the fallen. It was soon over, and they'd done their part in the fight. "ARKASH!" She called again and took him by the shoulder.
Finally, the rathor snapped from his trance with a start, and looked to Fayeth with widened misty eyes. "What-!?" he called in surprise.
"We're not done. Cailan still has his head."
Right. Yes, Fayeth was correct. "Alrite, le'ss finish 'im," Arkasha affirmed.
"I'll see you in his chambers," the cardinal assured, then opened a portal with a resounding boom and stepped through before quickly shutting it.
Arkash continued to breathe while his heart raced in his chest. It was all coming to a close; his goals were being realized, and it felt as though the whole universe recognized so. Despite all the death and loss, everything felt right. Everything was as it should have been. He looked to the Rien and the Koltoskan in his company, then motioned for them to follow him. The wild look in his eyes evidently set them on edge, as they looked at one another with uncertainty, but ultimately buckled to the will of the stronger of the three.
They all knew where the lord's chambers were, as they'd scouted the building from the outside before the attack. With ease, he trailed through the halls that were littered with broken glass and wove around the staircase that led to the second level before he arrived at the door of the estate's master chambers. Something heavy dropped from beyond the door, and Arkash startled. The revolutionaries flooded the floor below and began to climb the stairs of the estate as Arkash produced his pistol and shot through the lock of the door before he booted the barrier ajar.
In the room, Fayeth stood over three defeated golems with both her shortswords bared... They'd won the battle, but the war was lost. Cailan Florent was not there. Arkash stared in disbelief at their oversight; the lord's chambers were empty, save for Fayeth and another woman. She was pale, blonde of hair, and muted in expression. Her eyes set squarely on the rath and his building gathering while he inspected the room.
"Where is 'e," Arkash spoke with a hiss as he pushed past the threshold of the door, and a number of the revolutionaries followed him in.
"Where is who?" Returned the fair-skinned woman.
"Cailan," Arkash clarified with a curl of his nose.
The woman laughed a breath, then walked to the edge of the room. Again, Arkash pulled the lever of his pistol to eject the shell and fed another into the barrel. When it clicked shut, he lifted the weapon to aim at her. A number of his following did the same. "...I mean no disrespect," she clarified. "I just think it's funny that you speak of my husband as though you know him."
When the lady sat, it dawned on him. The woman was Catherine Florent. "Well," he continued, then shook the weapon in his claws. "Where's 'e? Where's Cailan?"
"Not here," she offered with a faint smile, and her tired eyes looked over the crowd. "You didn't come here for me, did you?"
Arkash hesitated while he aimed, then shook his head as he lowered the gun. The girl was just about his age, it appeared. Perhaps even younger. It was hard to tell with how much makeup and fanciful clothes she wore, but her words rang true. Cailan wasn't there in the estate; they'd failed.
"KILL 'ER ANYWAY!" Roared a voice from the crowd, native Rien; a nameless?
Arkash looked as another called "OFF WITH 'ER 'EAD!"
He'd brought them all there with the promise of vengeance. He offered Celebrant blood, to make house Florent grieve as the surviving nameless had. The nameless had lost more than anything because of Annalise Florent.
"THIS SCUM TOOK ME WIFE! ME 'OLE FAM'LY!" Not true. It wasn't her fault; Catherine was the tamest of the Florent, he believed by word of mouth. But, she was a Celebrant. She belonged to the house that Arkash swore revenge on. To a lot of the bereaved, her lopped head was justice enough - But they hadn't the strength to kill her themselves. Anger and rage broke out behind him as voices raised, and bloodlust permeated the air. Those ambivalent on her death eventually joined the crowd like the sheep they were, and before long, all those he rallied screamed for her death.
What could he do? He'd promised them blue blood. Arkash's eyes locked on Catherine's as her feared expression darted between them, then settled on the rath. It dawned on her that her death was due that night, and her fate was left in the claws of society's most downtrodden. "Please," she mouthed as her hands shook.
Arkash looked to Fayeth briefly, and he saw nothing but hate and scorn. For who, he couldn't be sure. She offered him no advice on what came next; the decision was his. Again, his eyes fell on the noble as his ears rang. Then, quick as a flash, he whipped his pistol and shot her with a squeeze of the trigger. The boom silenced the roaring crowd, and the thud of her body hitting the floor took its place as the force of the strike knocked her from her chair. Red pooled in her clothes around her heart, which she clutched as she laid twitching on the floor, and coughed streaks of red, which ran from the corners of her mouth.
That moment, the exact same moment that he watched the life recede from her eyes, the stars aligned and his purpose became known. He lived for that event, a taste of his overarching goal. He'd destroyed a facet of society, undone order by killing a liege. That was his purpose, to undo society. To abolish order and restore chaos, to overthrow those born with power.
While he maintained his long stare, Fayeth approached the fallen Celebrant and swiftly severed her head with a flick of her shortsword, took her by her hair, and lifted the dripping meat high for those gathered to see. "LOOK UPON THE FRUITS OF YOUR SACRIFICE!!" She called in a tone that Arkash knew to be scolding. The gathered didn't know so, however, and they cheered and roared in celebration. Arkash watched her with uncertainty, then looked to the celebrating revolutionaries.
Fayeth believed he'd made a mistake, the people cheered for her death. Had he done wrong? No, his whole being believed himself right. What did Fayeth see that he hadn't? He would know in the coming days.
