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“You are clearly not a coward,” Inga shouted at Dietrich, “so I don’t know why you are so keen on doing nothing!” She’d had to be held back from entering the rubble. Even now, the energy images of Ositha, Asi, and Snorri were fading into the distance. Above, however, was another energy, far larger and simpler than those of people. It was licking at the timbers of the Kongesalan, hungrily licking, and soon it would feast. Inga turned on her heel, twin braids whipping about like ropes, and darted off in another direction. “The tree!” she cried, boosting herself with force magic unusually advanced for a twelve-year-old. “We must get there!”

A heavy sigh filled the catacombs, from a man who’d had enough today. A small wound dripped blood ever so slightly from his right arm, and it stung, but it did not sting as much as knowing that he had lost the second son of Hrothgar the Black to the Parrench. And now, this impetuous child was determined to do the same, to throw herself into the fire and emerge a hero like some facetious fairy tail protagonist. He went to sigh again, but he realized that would not stop the teens running, nor would it quench the fires that threatened to burn the sacred tree.

[color=gold]“THINK, GIRL! WHAT CAN YOU DO?! THE MIGHTIEST WARRIORS OF YOUR EMPIRE ARE GATHERED HERE, AND YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN UP THERE AND SOLVE THE PROBLEM WITH BRUTE FORCE?! WITH HEROICS?! USE YOUR HEAD!”[/color] roared Dietrich, his accent slipping and his voice echoing through the tunnels. He took a second to breathe, and calm himself, before speaking again. [color=gold]“What is something only we can do here, Inga? What advantage do we have?”[/color] he spoke, calmer and far more grounded. He prayed that this girl had half the potential that Snorri did. 

Inga whirled on him as he caught up. “I am not so stupid as you think, Kressian.” She all-but spat the last word. “I am two and ten years old and have had my first blood. In our family it is the eldest son who inherits the throne, and it will be that fool Ulf, but the eldest [i]daughter[/i] inherits the tree.” Having slowed up a bit, she began moving again. “That is my aunt, Frida, but it shall be [i]me[/i] when I come of age. I will not have the guardian of our people burn before she is mine to care for and, besides,” she added cryptically, “she has ways of caring for [i]us[/i].” Her gaze took on a royal sort of reproach as she met his eyes, somehow looking down at him from below. “You are either assisting me or you are in my way.” 

Dietrich let the girl speak. She spoke of birthright, and inheritance, but did not speak of a plan. Truth be told, he was all about ready to give up on the girl before she met his gaze. He witnessed it. The arrogance, nay, pride required to be a ruler. Perhaps she wasn’t as bright as Snorri, but she had such a strong presence, at such a young age. And even as his blood still dripped down his arm, he felt compelled to help. He opened his mouth once more.[color=gold]“I will help you, Inga. But, we must be cunning. These tunnels surely lead to a point we can ambush those Parrench fucks, and send them to shovel coal. Let’s not fight like northerners.”[/color]

“It is others who will make them pay. My mother will,” Inga assured him. “Perhaps [i]you[/i] will. [i]I[/i] must go to the tree. The Livetstræ will save the city and, if not, I will save its seeds so that it might be born anew.” She swallowed. “I know the route there. These tunnels have been my plaything since I was old enough to walk.” She started running once more. “Follow or be lost. If you can be my sword and shield, I will be in your debt.”

Dietrich wanted to sigh, but then he realized. He’d beaten an incredibly proficient assassin today, what was a bunch of fire. The Aeresvaktr were surely there by now, and there shouldn’t be that many strong combatants. The Parrench couldn’t spare them. He could do this. He would do this. Perhaps this was his mission, not just to save the royals from abduction, but to save the tree of life. He smiled a cocky grin, for the first time tonight, not just because he was confident in himself, but because the girl was finally using her head. [color=gold]“Then let us go, Princess. I will fight for you.”[/color]

It was a veritable labyrinth of tunnels and they moved through it at a dizzying pace, Inga’s and Dietrich’s arcane magic lighting the way. It could not have been more than another minute before they arrived. The girl clambered up a rickety wooden staircase and burst into a small supply closet. “Out there,” she whispered,” there are men. If we have sensed them, they will sense us.” Beyond, was the Livetstræ. Its colossal energy image was unmistakable, but the palace was now on fire in earnest and the flames were very close to reaching it. “Can you cover me?” Inga prodded urgently. “We have to reach it!”

 Dietrich wasted no time. They were outnumbered, but they had the element of surprise and certainty that they were stronger in the gift than their numerous opponents. DIetrich began to draw from the roaring fires in the palace, both to try and mitigate them, and to prepare for his assault, before he would emerge from the small room they were in.

[color=gold]“Stay close, and use your range. The Visitor would not forgive you dying a pointless death here, Inga.”[/color] he spoke, before he began his assault. “I would not dream of it,” she assured him. A vast conversion from the arcane to thunder was internalized, and he unleashed his wrath first upon the unknown foes before him, strange in appearance and mana. He did not know what they were capable of, but he could not hesitate if he wanted to win here. A fierce bolt of lightning emerged from the scepter, leaping from target to target, as he directed it to a new foe every time it struck true, all the while moving forward and trying to make space for the young royal.

Inga was merciless, drawing from the flames and the radiative heat of Dietrich’s thunderbolts. With a look of grim determination, the girl drew, converted, and pounded human and Sea person alike into the ground with invisible fists of force and fury. She did not cover the range that Dietrich did, and the bloody attacks were less refined and elegant in their deadly nature, but no less effective. Raiders were smashed to a blood pulp or lay broken and wailing on the ground. Through it all, she rushed unerringly for the tree. The sheer scale of it was impressive no matter how many times Dietrich had set eyes on it over the past few days. The stained glass windows surrounding the hole in the ceiling where it emerged had largely shattered and still more were breaking, hot sharp pieces of them falling the twenty yards or so to the floor. It was history, heritage, and culture and it was dying in such a was as to make it murderous. 

Then, with starling swiftness, a group of six sea raiders converged in a semicircle and a colossal wave of Force lifted the hundreds of pieces of glass from the ground and sent them arching, slithering, [i]screaming[/i] towards Dietrich but, most especially, Inga.

There was a choice to make. A split second decision. He’d only drawn enough to fully cover one person, and for a moment, he panicked. But his mind ran clear with purpose. Should the child fall, this venture would be lost. Should she live, he would have a debt from all of Eskand. He would not die from a few measly glass shards. He pointed his scepter at the glass headed towards Inga, and tossed them aside, before attempting to hastily piece together a binded barrier to protect himself, but it would not do him much good. His binding was always lacking, and barely had any mana to use, so much got through, and he was cut for the second time tonight, far worse than the assassin had given him, but still a ways from anything lethal. Adrenaline pumped through his system, and he felt strange as he felt that same cocky grin form on his face.[color=gold] [i]So this is what it means to risk your life, huh?[/i][/color] 

Inga had twisted and was facing him. He could feel her magics, still fading. They had assisted in his shield. She gave him a grateful nod, eyes turning concerned for a moment, before running off for the tree. “Mother Inga!” one of the cowering priestesses called, the age difference between them making her address ironic, “You should not be here! It is too dangerous!”

“It is my duty, Sister Gertrude. You will assist me or get out of my way.” For all the efforts of Dietrich and Inga, for all of the fire that they had siphoned off, there was still more. It had blown in on a rising wind and now it threatened the Livetstræ directly. “The rest of you,” Inga demanded, some sort of bloody angel or dove in her brilliant white dress, “Join us. I command it, for this is our purpose.” The preteen sank to her knees before the tree as flames neared, closing her eyes and stretching her hands out in prayer. Sister Gertrude took one of them, and then another sister took hers, then a third, fourth, and fifth. Inga, golden hair catching the highlights of the flames, stifled a cough and placed a hand against the great tree’s bark. 

A couple of the raiders made a charge for them, but Dietrich dealt with these easily. Most had vacated the area, so intense had grown both the fire and the counterattack. They made off with their trinkets. A prayer rose from the six women and a deep, vast thunder shook the heavens, as if the wrath of Father and mercy of Mother themselves had been stirred. 

Then, a lick of flame appeared on the Livetstræ and the clouds opened. A colossal bolt of lightning, far beyond what any mortal man could muster, split the sky, and then a second, a third, and a fourth. All present could feel the power in their chests. Rain hit them in sheets, pounding the broken glass and the ancient stone floors. Throughout Meldheim and the surrounding regions, a downpour took hold. Where the city had been burning there now was water enough to quench it. Inga continued praying, not once opening her eyes, her small voice squeaky compared to the grown women around her, but she was smiling. 

Although the city was impossibly loud, all Dietrich heard was silence. The sea people lay as dust on the ground, and the rain felt cold on his skin, a relief from the inferno that he had found himself in prior. He looked to the women giving prayer, and to the smiling inga, as he witnessed bolts of lightning streak through the sky. There was no doubt in his mind, the gods were real. There were no clouds in the sky, they were supposed to die here, yet the rain had came after they had joined themselves in prayer. Sound returned to his ears, and they were filled with the sounds of thunder. A sound of two homes, both of his own, and of his ancestors. Prayers followed, the voices eerie and haunting yet there had never been something sweeter to his ears. He joined Inga in smiling, and spread his arms out to the heavens, more blood dripping from his wounds. They stung, but the pain was nothing compared to the strength he now felt.

[color=gold]“You were there all along, and I never truly saw. I will serve you to the end, Femværger” [/color]he spoke, joy filling his voice. They had come in an hour of need. This war was righteous, their cause was just, their will be done. He let the rain wash his face for just a moment longer, before standing up and staggering to the door, to witness the city. From the height, he could see the fires extinguish, like stars retreating at the sight of the morning sun. The world would hear of this event, the proof of their existence, the Wunderregen.