[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQXUPoA.png[/img]
[sub][@HereComesTheSnow][@VitaVitaAR][@PigeonOfAstora][/sub][/center]
The fortress was not overcome. The past remained, unshakeable, unperturbed.

From the moment the necromancer's barrier shattered, nay, from the moment the numbers shifted further into the favor of the Iron Rose knights, the conclusion had been decided and the fate of the villain had been sealed. All that mattered then, was to seize that fragment of an opportunity to test one's self, [i]sharpen[/i] one's self, against the monument of human might. And yet, worn down by the passing of millennia, bereft of half the capabilities that made him legend, Erich remained flawless.

A fortress that moved.

Serenity rose from the pile of inanimate bones, the undead warriors that had lost their movement once their master had been slain. Fragments of ancient steel slid off her chainmail as her ears roared still with the ferocity of an end that came too soon. Gerard, mace head covered in gore. Fanilly, blade slick with foul ichor. The necromancer slain, the child saved, the witch broken, and the champion lifeless once more. She drew in a breath, a breath befouled by her own blood, and reached to pick up the weapons she had dropped. Hatchet and mace, used so frequently, and yet used so pointlessly. The shield she had lent, warped without having truly served its purpose. Opportunities, squandered.

Stilled, the corpse of Erich Cazt was not so much taller than herself. She placed her hand upon his chest, felt the tension in her muscles, the urge to push. To test how immovable he was, even in his second death. Her flesh, pulsating beneath her gloves. Her eyes, smouldering like the embers of a forge.

Time had passed him, but humanity had not.

Serenity dropped her hand and marched past instead, boots crushing the corpses in her path until she could finally reached the necromancer's corpse. One hand grasped his hair, pulling his head off the ground. The other hand hooked beneath the shattered ribs, pulling it up and rolling the body over her shoulder. Light as a feather. Stank like the rotting dead. He deserved not to lie another second longer upon the Demonbreaker's tomb. And as for the witch...

It didn't matter whether she was a pawn or not. It didn't matter whether she had changed sides or not. It didn't matter whether she let go of her desire to revenge the axeman up above. It didn't matter, because so long as she breathed, she could change her mind. Sir Steffen and Sir Fleuri were forgiving, but would they still be forgiving if any of her lightning bolts had slain one of them? Would they be so forgiving if Sir Vier had been cleaved in two by the Baruksteadian's axe? Would Lein see her as ally instead of enemy if the extent of her sins grew just a little more? In the end, she was a witch. Inscribed with sorcerous tattoos that allowed her to call forth spells of great power without uttering a single word.

Leniency could be had [i]after[/i] they bound her wrists and kept a dagger steady to her throat, after the mages of the College have peeled away whatever gave her the freedom of the storm itself. Leniency could be had [i]after[/i] they knocked her unconsciousness. Serenity's hands were full, but she still had her feet. All it would take was one good kick, and the witch wasn't in a state to be aware of her surroundings anyways.

But she was a knight.

[b]"We are shield and sword,"[/b] Serenity spoke from behind the kneeling Hundi. [b]"Not gavel and block. Rise up, Lein. The body's not here and the soul doesn't desire the prayers of a [i]foreign[/i] church either."[/b] A pause. What smidgen of warmth laid beneath that chastisement faded away in full. [b]"As for you, witch. We will see to it that the axeman's body will be embalmed for whatever funeral you desire for him, but your trial will come first. For the benefit of the law and yourself, be truthful and compliant, lest you waste the last words of your partner."[/b]

If she stayed any longer, she was going to [i]act[/i], so Serenity left it at that, walking away. Away from Erich, away from the witch, away from her fellow knights.

A trail of blood staining stone and bone, a worthless head swinging to and fro.