#azola

From what she could tell, Azola was also moving at a fast pace, which meant Tira had to increase her own. Even with her much heavier weapon, Tira was lighter on her feet, and was able to do just that, weaving through the trees while Azola stuck to the established road to the castle. Sure enough, Tira could see Azola in her bold scarlet and bronze yellow armor, running as fast she could, but Tira was faster. With her efforts being put towards speed more than stealth, it was readily apparent that Tira had been noticed, a suspicion that was confirmed when Azola's reddish-brown eyes met Tira's magenta ones, and Tira flashed a grin. "Hope you're ready to die!" she taunted cheerily, and then leapt from the brush at an angle to catch Azola with her ring blade. There was a loud clang as Azola brought up her red shield to block the attack, and although Azola was knocked to the ground, she was otherwise unhurt. She was on her feet in half a breath, and drew her cinnabar sword as she stood, the Fire Blade.

Circling warily, Tira snorted a laugh as she looked at Azola's sword. According to legend, the Fire Blade grew hotter in proportion to its wielder's levels of agitation, and sometimes even burst into flame when they were especially stressed. Looking at how rapidly the weapon had begun to glow cherry red, the legends rung true, and Azola was distressed indeed. Good, distress led to stupidity, and stupid opponents were so much easier to kill. As much as she enjoyed a good fight, Tira wanted bouts with Covenant Shield members to be over as fast as possible, because there was no telling what could go wrong when trying to take one of Nightmare's powerful lieutenants down.

"You are worthless," Azola spat. "Begone, traitor! There is no way you can win!"

Tira giggled out, "That's not what your sword says," nodding at the Fire Blade that continued to intensify its glow. "Little coward, hiding behind her shield, you already know that I'm spilling your guts in the dirt tonight, don't you?"

Making sure to keep her bravado in her expression, Azola snarled angrily. She ducked forward, making a thrust as she shouted, "Die, filth!" but Tira easily sidestepped the attack, and landed a blow on Azola's shield arm, cutting into the meat of her shoulder and drawing a scream of pain from her. Tira kicked her in the side, knocking her over again. "Oops, looks like you're halfway to helpless in just one hit!" the assassin said mockingly. "I would tell you to work on your shield skills, but..."

Tira shrugged, smirking. "Well. You know."

Azola got to her feet again, ignoring the blood running down her left arm. The metal of her sword had achieved an incandescent orange. "This fight is yet to be over," she warned, closing the distance between her and Tira again. This time, she was ready for Tira's attack, and parried it away with her sword, after which she swung upwards, aiming to split Tira from brain to belly. Tira jumped back fast enough to avoid the blade touching her, but it sliced through the ragged excuse for a top that Tira wore, exposing her chest.

"Wow, what a libertine!" Tira jeered. "You're supposed to try to kill me, not unclothe me, you sick tribade!" She cackled at Azola's outrage at such an accusation being leveled against her, which would have probably been more flustering than angering if they weren't in the middle of fighting. Not that Tira wasn't attracted to women herself, but that didn't change how much she relished the look in her opponent's eyes at an insult that attacked her on such a personal level. Tira could care less about her own hypocrisy.

Responding with a series of strikes of her own, Tira kept up the pressure against Azola, steadily wearing her down with how much energy Azola had to expend on fending off blows with her sword instead of getting to use the damned thing to strike back with.

Finally, Tira took hold of Eiserne Drossel with both hands and swung it, knocking the Fire Blade from Azola's hand. "You lose," she sneered, and made a cut across Azola's belly. It wasn't deep enough to be lethal on its own, but between that and the injury to her sword arm, the pain she was in combined with her disarming had her staggering away. Winding up to make a finishing blow, Tira froze when she heard a loud voice recite some kind of rhyming chant a short distance away.

"Flash of flame, scorching land, howling inferno at my command... manifest, and come to my aid! Conflagration!"

A gout of flame erupted from the ground between Tira and Azola, burning with white-hot licks of fire. Looking over to her left, there stood a pale Korean man in lavishly colored silk robes and bold poppy red hair. 'Ugh, that wretched sorcerer-monk is here,' Tira mentally grumbled to herself, her face switching to the glower of her Gloomy persona. "Sword of Cursed Flames," she growled. "Just had to appear right on time to save Sword of Corruption's sorry hide, didn't you?"

"I'd much rather you call me Won Gabok, little crow!" he replied jauntily. "Turncoats have no business with my official title being on their filthy tongues."

Stepping from the shadows on Tira's side opposite of Won Gabok was the other remaining fighter in Covenant Shield, the Sword of Inquisition. "And what a betrayer you are indeed," he muttered, drawing his dual-bladed sword. "Under normal circumstances, I would kill you where you stand, but our king has other, more fitting plans in mind."

Tira considered her chances. Cursed Flames may have been a powerful magician, but his fighting skills were lackluster without some kind of bolstering power. Inquisition, on the other hand, was a truly wicked fighter with that dual-sword-thing he wielded. She couldn't get through the fire spell without taking serious damage, so running past Azola wasn't an option. Behind her was a slope that was far too steep for her to run down it and not risk hurting herself. It looked like her decision was made.

Making a truly impressive leap into the air towards her left, Tira managed to take this Won Gabok jackass by surprise, the point of her heeled boot colliding with his chest and knocking him over painfully. Her opening right in front of her, she ran as fast as she could down the path, hoping to get away from her assailants before they could catch her.

There was a flash of motion, and the Sword of the Inquisitor was right in front of Tira, his weapon pointed right at her. She barely managed to bat the blade away with her own, not slowing down at all as she bolted past him. Running straight down the path would no longer be an option if it meant she could be intercepted so easily, and so she turned to go back into the trees, using them to break line of sight between her and her pursuer.

"Roaring skies, trembling soil, wailing souls on this mortal coil! Manifest, and come to my aid!"

'Ah, dammitall.'

Tira fell to the ground immediately as her arms and legs were gripped by specters, and they pinned her to the dirt, laying on her back. She hadn't even made it past the trees and into the forest. Sword of the Inquisitor was the first to reach her, with Won Gabok and Azola not far behind. "That really hurt, you know!" Won Gabok complained, a palm over his chest. "Though not nearly as much as our friend Azola hurts from her cuts, I imagine."

Something about being a malfested let them begin to heal faster than normal, because Azola's wounds had already begun to pucker and staunched the bleeding. Tira could at least take satisfaction in how much it still visibly stung in Azola's gaze. "I will be battle-ready again in short order," she spat.

Just when Tira thought that her night couldn't get any worse, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful aura of evil and malice, well before she heard the clank of heavy plate armor casually stepping on the hard dirt of the road. Definitely the last sound she wanted to hear tonight, and considering her rotten luck this night, it may well have been the last sound she would ever hear again.

"Angel of Death," rumbled the Azure Knight, his voice distorted both by his helmet and the thrumming power of Soul Edge, "it has been too long."

As loyal and devoted as Covenant Shield may have been, even they gave Nightmare a wide berth, more out of fear than respect, though most surely a healthy mix of both. "I hope you have come to swear fealty to me again, instead of killing another of my most devoted servants; Greatblade will be dearly missed."

"Her Highness would want me to live," Tira replied, Gloomy's growl shining through, "but I would rather die than join you again. We're in love with her, and death would be preferable to betraying her."

Nightmare guffawed loudly. "Ah, love," he ridiculed. "A poor man's substitute for ambition. As powerful a motivator as any, but one that invariably breeds stupidity and only brings about heartbreak in the end."

He then cocked his head, looking thoughtful. Uh-oh.

"...But mayhap we find a use for your idiotic affection yet," he teased, and then planted Soul Edge into the ground before striding up to her. His armored hand wrapped around Tira's neck, and Won Gabok dismissed the spirits who held her to the ground with a simple gesture. In Nightmare's monstrous hand, there appeared a sharp piece of metal that glowed a bold crimson. Picking Tira up off the ground, he shoved his mutated palm into her middle, and the crease where his hand met her skin began to smoke. Tira thrashed helplessly in his grip, screeching in agony the entire time.

When Nightmare finally drew his hand back, his palm still smoked, but there was a mess of twisted, sick-looking flesh and scar tissue over where Tira's navel used to be. Black and purple veins stretched over her lower torso like gruesome cracks in a mirror that was made of meat. Tira still whined in pain. "You will die in three days," Nightmare explained, "the shard corrupting your body into lifelessness with its concentrated power unless you find someone to share the taint of Soul Edge with. The human body is not meant to bear such a burden as a shard of Soul Edge saturated with power, not without spreading it." He glanced around to the others. "How should she do so? With what method will she infect the world with my mark?"

Won Gabok stroked his chin, doing so in a sarcastic, overacting manner to emphasize the humor of his idea. "How's about a kiss?" he suggested. "If your little Angel of Death is so in love with Princess Hildegard, wouldn't it be just the most poetic thing for her to be polluted by a gesture of fondness? The irony of being damned by the one you love would be cosmic in scale!"

"Hahaha! A genius idea, Sword of Cursed Flames!" Nightmare congratulated. He looked back at Tira. "If you have not kissed your beloved princess by the end of the third day, you will perish in a slow and torturous death you would not wish upon your greatest enemies. Not only that, if she is not a malfested by then, I will storm Wolfkrone Castle personally, cutting down all who stand in my way, and relish the feeling of her entrails squishing between my fingers as I crush her.

"Now is the time to choose! Die painfully and be the reason for your lover's own grisly death, or live forever with the torment of knowing her curse will be all your fault!" he roared. He then set her back down on her feet. "For further encouragement, I will even extend a hand in forgiveness if the princess is under my influence. Your betrayal will be forgotten, and you may rejoin my ranks as part of Covenant Shield! What say you to that?"

Even Gloomy's comparative stoicism wasn't enough to keep her face from twisting in sadness at her dilemma. Either she dies and lets Hilde perish with her, or she intentionally corrupts Hilde out of cowardice. Sure, they would both get to stay alive—Tira would even get to join Covenant Shield again, and considering Hilde's sheer skill and strength she already possessed, that being multiplied by Soul Edge's power could very well earn Hilde a place amongst the Azure Knight's most trusted servants—but... she would be turning Hilde into everything that her country hated. Tira wasn't sure she could live with that. She certainly didn't believe she would deserve to.

"I... I don't wanna die," she admitted, "so... I'll do it. Can you promise that if she keeps her mind, you'll allow Princess Hildegard into Covenant Shield too?"

Nightmare's eyes flashed angrily. "You are in no position to make demands!" he shouted, making Tira recoil and cringe. "...But you have a point in that the princess would make a fine addition to my entourage, if she does not lose herself entirely to the bloodlust Soul Edge will surely fill her with. On my father's name, should she retain her personhood instead of becoming a beast, your precious warrior-princess will be granted the privilege of joining Covenant Shield."

He stepped back, and gestured for the others to also do the same, giving Tira plenty of space to escape. "Now fly, little bird, lest I change my mind."

There was naught but a moment's hesitation before Tira snatched up her ring blade and dashed away into the night, heading back to Wolfkrone.

Feeling a presence up above, Tira looked up, to find that several Watchers were roosting above her in the trees that lined the path home.

~\\⚔//~

Princess Hildegard sat in the throne room while discussing the goings-on of the kingdom, particularly their dire economic straits, in the morning. "Imposing a tax on the common folk would be unwise at this point," Garibrand advised. "They can already hardly afford to feed themselves; they would starve to death and we would only get unimpactful, ever-diminishing returns. An impost on merchants would bring better results, but the taxation should only be towards those who bring in shipments in bulk; small caravans and traveling merchants should remain exempt, so that at least some things remain affordable for the peasantry."

"What if we were to further restrict these taxes to only apply to large shipments of black powder and related weapons?" Hilde asked, and Garibrand answered, "That would impact the general public even less, but would also reduce the amount of funds we receive significantly. Perhaps too significantly. But, I will still trust your judgment on this, Your Highness."

"Very well."

Through the door to the throne room marched Gerhilde, who wore a distinctly uncomfortable look, and was accompanied by a small squadron of armed guards. Surrounded by the guards, with her hands held in rigid manacles, was Tira, who looked positively miserable. The strangest thing of the situation was that Tira's eyes looked to be glowing with a fuchsia light behind them, rather than her original, curiously purple irises. Tira moved like she was going to run up to Hilde, but stopped when Gerhilde's hand gripped her shoulder firmly.

Looking concernedly at the mess before her, Hilde demanded, "What is the meaning of this? Why is Frau Tira held in binds?"

Gerhilde looked reluctant to answer, but eventually mustered the courage to respond quietly, "...She has a shard of Soul Edge embedded in her stomach, Your Highness. She is... malfested."

Tears began to spill down Tira's face, trailing the heavy eyeliner of grease and soot along with them. "I, I'm sorry, I wasn't able to kill Sword of Corruption fast enough, I didn't know the other two Swords were there until it was too late, and then Nightmare was there, and I–!"

She buckled over in both pain and shame, her tears becoming full-blown sobs. "I'm so sorry, Hilde!" she bawled, and began choking on her breaths as her abdomen started glowing red.

Hilde shot up from her seat, rushing forward to meet Tira, but Tira threw herself onto her back, screaming out, "No, stay back! Don't touch me!" as she hit the floor. Only reluctantly did Hilde concede, her face creased with worry and her hands still refusing to fall to her sides. "Why not? The malfested do not spread their taint through mere touch, do they?"

"The shard that is inside Frau Tira is steeped in so much of Soul Edge's malevolence that she fears it will spread like disease to anyone whose skin touches hers," Gerhilde explained. "Judging by her condition's severity, I would hazard that she may well be right."

Garibrand stepped forward, giving a low hum of thought. "I take no pleasure in saying this," he apologized, "but I feel that, for everyone's safety, you should be placed in one of the dungeon cells, Frau Tira. If Soul Edge's influence is as contagious as you say, then you should be kept where there is as little traffic as possible while still having you in the security of the castle walls. Efforts will be made to make your space more comfortable, but we cannot take risks that you spread the poison of the cursed sword to anyone else."

He reached down, then hefted Tira to her feet by gripping the thick band of stiff metal between Tira's hands. He may have been old and no longer fit for the battlefield, but Garibrand was by no means a weak man. Tira looked into his warm, yet tired eyes, and he returned her gaze as well. "Do you find this agreeable?" he asked; Tira nodded. "Then you will be led to the dungeon, extra blankets and bedrolls will be laid out for you, and you will be given a pillow as well. We can even remove your manacles when your cell is ready, if you wish."

"That... that would be nice," Tira hoarsely replied.

~\\⚔//~

That Tira understood why she was in a cell beneath the castle, and that it wasn't even her own fault, didn't change how miserable it felt to be there. Garibrand had kept to his word; there were two bedrolls stacked on top of each other, as well as a pillow made of thick, soft quilts. Certainly far more comfortable than what she usually slept on before siding with Wolfkrone, and while that wasn't the reason she changed sides, it was an appreciable perk to the deal. Sitting on the bedrolls, Tira spied something in the far corner: the rock that she had been about to stab Hilde with when they fought. Not the best thing to leave lying around, to be sure. She walked over, picked it up, and went back to her seat. 'So sharp,' Jolly mused, 'it makes you wonder how things would have gone if Hilde wasn't such a good wrestler, doesn't it?'

Tira thumbed the edge of it, and Gloomy thought back, 'We'd still be in the Azure Knight's service, killing whoever and whatever we were told to, and anything else that crosses our path.'

She looked at the ceiling, and asked herself, "And how much different is that from what we do now?" The stones and mortar only offered silence, and so Gloomy returned, 'We didn't have Nightmare telling us what we can and can't kill,' but Jolly argued back, 'Yeah, but that doesn't change that in Hilde's service, we still get to kill things. And on top of that, we still matter! She cares about us, silly!'

"How can you be so sure?"

'If she didn't care, she would have had us executed after being malfested, wouldn't she?' Jolly answered, and Gloomy confirmed, 'That she's trying to figure out what to do instead of just killing us on the spot is a good sign, true.'

Tira, looking at the stone in her hand, gripped it tightly. She still had her gloves and gauntlets on, noting that if it was just her skin, it would have left a deep cut in her fingers and palm. Her other hand went over the bruised, deformed part of her navel where the shard of Soul Edge was stuck in her, and thought about how it was just skin and some meat over where the source of her current troubles was.

Two pairs of metallic footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs, and Tira was soon greeted by the sight of not just the princess, but also of Gerhilde. Both of them looked beside themselves with worry. "Tira," Hilde offered, "you have my sincerest apologies for doing this to you, but..."

She turned to Gerhilde. "How long would it take to contact one of the Aval leaders for help?"

Gerhilde paused thoughtfully. "I should estimate ten days, perhaps a week if they were to hurry."

Hearing this, Tira shook her head. "That's too slow for us," she explained. "We have three days before the curse kills us if we don't pass it on."

Hilde stomped her foot in frustration. "If only Sir Grøh were here with us, I am sure he would know what to do..."

"Grøh?" Tira repeated. "We've heard that name before. Sword of Inquisition sometimes whispers it to himself in his sleep."

Both Hilde and Gerhilde looked at Tira quizzically. "...What does the Sword of Inquisition look like?"

"Sharp, handsome features, blond hair he keeps parted on one side, a voice that would be real friendly if he wasn't malfested," Tira described, and Hilde looked even more worried. Asked the princess, "Gerhilde, do you think it could be Sir Curtis?" and Gerhilde looked dejected. "I can only hope not."

Hilde put a hand on her hip and sighed through her nose, growing more and more troubled by the second. "So, you said that you have to touch someone in three days to share enough of Soul Edge's power to prevent it from killing you?" she queried, and Tira looked away, unable to make eye contact with Hilde. "Well... not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

Tira's face was riddled with shame and sadness at the irony of it all. "The Azure Knight made it so that I can only pass on the curse and spare myself if I kiss someone," she explained. "He knows that I love Her Highness, and thought that it would be funny if I cursed her too like that."

Gerhilde snarled in disgust. "What perversity!" she snapped loudly. "Does his cruelty know no bounds?"

Pulling a key ring from her belt, Hilde unlocked the cell door and swiftly moved inside, then put a hand on Tira's cheek. "Then may I at least touch you, mein Schatz?" she gently asked, hoping for Tira's wet eyes to meet hers, but to no avail, for Tira backed away, putting space between her and Hilde.

"I... we can't, we can't let you risk it, please don't!" she pleaded as she started to cry. "This shard in us, it... it... it has to go!" She raised her hand with the sharp rock, and made to plunge it into her stomach.

A loud "Nein!" echoed through the dungeon, as did the clatter of Gerhilde's armor hitting Tira and scraping on the floor as she tackled her, pinning Tira's hands over her head. Gerhilde's look was intense. "I cannot bear the thought of Her Highness' despair if you died," she harshly whispered. "So if it is a kiss that Soul Edge requires for your life..."

Tira's eyes widened in shock as Gerhilde's lips forced themselves onto Tira's. She tried to fight Gerhilde off, but by the time she could have freed her hands, the shard in her middle grew hot and emitted red light and purple vapors, causing her to spasm painfully. Gerhilde was able to hold Tira down while Hilde stared, staying there for around fifteen seconds before she finally threw herself off, groaning as she sat up on the dungeon floor. Wiping hers and Tira's spit from her mouth with the back of her gauntleted hand, she made a loud, hacking cough, and exhaled what looked like a puff of dull mauve smoke and ash. "I can only hope that solved it," Gerhilde wheezed before leaning over to help Tira to sit up as well. "Will Her Highness yet have to suffer Soul Edge's malignancy as well?"

Tira put her arms over her stomach, still aching from the shard's power having flared up. "It's... the power is weaker, but if I don't kiss Hilde, it's going to come back," she admitted. "It might be even worse this time; Nightmare isn't the sort who lets someone dodge his plans." She looked at Hilde, her already wet eyes beginning to drip with tears again. "I'm so sorry, Hilde! It–"

She hiccuped before beginning to weep again. "It's all my fault! It's my fault for not killing her fast enough, for not being good enough–"

"The Azure Knight being such an böses Arschloch is not your fault, Tira," Hilde countered. "At what point would you have expected him and his entire entourage to ambush you at the same time, especially while outside of Ostrheinsburg?" She knelt in front of Tira, looking her in the eyes. "I cannot lose you, mein Engel; in no world will I let Soul Edge rob me of that. Even a dark angel like you will always have my loving embrace."

Not allowing Tira to protest again, Hilde leaned forward and pressed her lips to Tira's. One arm went over Tira's shoulders while Hilde's other hand ran her fingers through Tira's hair as her tongue pushed its way into Tira's mouth. She held Tira there for several moments, and as she did, both Hilde and Tira began to glow. The reaction was far less violent than with Gerhilde, who watched it all happen with despair and a hint of jealousy that Her Highness loved Tira so much that she would be willing to take on Soul Edge's curse for her sake. That was just the kind of person Princess Hildegard was though, wasn't it? Willing to personally endanger herself out of love and compassion for others. Just one of the many reasons Gerhilde harbored so much affection for her queen-in-the-making.

When Hilde finally pulled back, she opened her eyes, revealing that she had a faint glow that shifted between red and amber depending on what angle one saw them from. "Will I still lose you, mein Engel?" she asked gently, her thumb and forefinger on Tira's chin. "Or has Soul Edge succumbed to the power of our love?"

Tira looked at Hilde with hope and remorse wrapped in a storm of love. "The shard's gone quiet," she answered. "It can't grow anymore." Looking down at her belly, the darkened, twisted flesh had already begun to recede, although Tira suspected that it would still scar. Soul Edge was not the kind of artifact that would ever miss the chance to leave a mark.

A smirk decorating her face, Hilde made a huff of a laugh. "Ha. Then it is proven, our love is stronger than Soul Edge could ever hope to be." She stood up, taking both Gerhilde and Tira by the hand and lifting them off the dungeon floor. She gave each of them a peck on the cheek. "Come, let us show the world that Soul Edge is not the unbeatable blade it thinks it is." She looked wistfully at one of the walls, in the direction of one of the deeper parts of the dungeon, where Gerhilde and Tira knew George von Krone was held. "There is hope for you yet, Vater..."

~\\⚔//~

Garibrand was very good at keeping secrets, a trait that Hilde, Gerhilde, and Tira were all thankful for. Rumors spread that the Princess-Regent and two of her closest servants had a new certain fire behind their eyes, but not only did Garibrand quash such rumors when brought up in the royal court, he even planted the seed of another rumor that Her Highness had been given a holy blessing, meant to strike fear into any malfested who had the misfortune of meeting her. Such conflicting stories did well to keep the populace in check.