(From the point of view of Violet Belladonna)

***

Izrecael.

An empire towering over all, the greatest civilization the world has ever seen. A sovereign power trampling over hundreds of other foolish groups of men who dared call themselves kingdoms, their defeat thus proving only that the beauty and power of Izrecael is neither a myth nor a legend. The songs in the lyrics of the minstrels and the tales spoken by wise old men may perhaps be exaggerated, but they are not far from the truth.

The world bows in fear, adoration, and humility towards the imperial palace of Izrecael, the royal family, in return, thus gives their generosity to its neighbors. They ask only one thing in return: their ceaseless friendship, a never-ending pact of camaraderie to ensure that war must never graze our soil.

Thus, every town, city, kingdoms, and countries all over Luxael, including Izrecael itself, of course, agreed to a pact of everlasting peace. Ports must never see battleships intended to sail towards war. Blacksmiths are allowed to create weapons to kill, but they must not engage in dealings involving warfare. Siege weapons are forbidden to be created as long as the pact exists. Leaders must never encourage their people to spread hatred towards their neighboring lands. These are a few points the treaty raises among others to promote peace.

It was called The Pact of Caelum, a name based on where the leaders decided to agree upon the treaty: the Holy Temple of Caelum.

All of this because they fear an attack from Izrecael.

They cannot defeat Izrecael. They cannot risk their lands ransacked and destroyed by Izrecael. They cannot attack Izrecael, for they will not live to tell the tale of its might.

The creation of this pact signaled the beginning of a united friendship among the empires existing in the vast continent of Luxael. The entirety of the continent shares an ever-lasting peace as one, together in one Luxael: The United Empires of Luxael. 

We are all friends! 

At least on paper.

It is legally stated in the Pact of Caelum that unity between the scattered empires in Luxael is an act of "friendship." However, its sole purpose is to gather all who breathes above the soil of Luxael to bow before the might of Izrecael. It is a pact of loyalty that the empires had agreed upon to acknowledge Izrecael as the sovereign power of Luxael.

Thus creating the United Empires of Luxael—under the supervision of Izrecael.

Historians wrote only one word to describe those foolish ruffians who had the backbone to dare break the agreement stated in the pact…

Dead.

None of them remain.

It's no surprise, of course. A simple glance at the kingdom itself is enough for prospective rebels to question if they really wish to disturb the peace of the empire. A wise merchant could easily see how attacking Izrecael would not only ruin the economy, it could also ruin a good business with a rich and powerful empire.

Why would anyone wish to attack this empire? I mean, just look at the damn thing!

The entirety of Izrecael is tinted with the shades of black, darker than a man's shadow, blacker than a tyrant's heart. This is because of a nearly indestructible mud used as the primary material to make every home, establishments, buildings, walls, towers, roads, and everything else within the empire's territory. The mud may not look promising, nor does it look at all terrifying, but once it hardens, it turns pitch black. The darker it is, the higher its quality.

And Izrecael is the darkest empire in the world.

Catapults, magic, alchemy, prayers, and beasts; all are not enough to bring the walls of Izrecael down. Propaganda, wealth, politics, and infiltration, those might be threats to smaller, less impressive empires but not Izrecael. Our walls protect us, our walls symbolize us, our walls will never fail us, our walls make them fear us, but our walls also maintain the stability and peace of our empire. They may spite us, and they may fear us, but they cannot deny the fact that without 'us,' there will be no 'them.'

Not only are the walls of Izrecael a defensive wonder, but they also packed a strong offensive countermeasure against marauders who may attempt to disturb the stillness of the empire. The walls have enormous guard towers used to scout from far beyond the horizon and mostly to keep beasts and entities of unknown origin from within the lush jungle surrounding the empire.

The towers' most important uses though lie on top of it. Above these gigantic towers are huge crystals that could send a powerful bane of pure mystical energy far beyond the reaches of human sorcery. These crystals can exhume unstoppable forces that can put the devil himself to shame.

The academe fears the crystals. Of course, they do, they cannot explain its power let alone its origin, so they give it wretched names to brandish its reputation as a mere armament of warfare, names such as the death's abominations, god's mistakes on Luxael, and, my personal favorite, the devil's shit. I like to call it that way, but officially, sorcerers call these powerful stones as razheema. The name derived from the witch who first discovered it in the ancient days of yore.

I am fond of the devil's shit. I, myself, own a less potent version of it, and as a razheemist, I know exactly what the crystal's weakness is.

Its own fragility.

One swing of a wooden sword could easily break these razheemas. Competent mages like me would often use our own magical abilities to cloak our crystals with powerful barriers of mystical arts, of course. However, the razheema on top of the watchtowers of Izrecael are too plenty and too gigantic that mere humans like us couldn't possibly cloak it with barriers every single passing day. Not even the most powerful sorcerer on Luxael could survive such intense mental stress.

Thus, the grand architects of the palace used the same mystical dark mud to protect the crystals, the same one we use in our walls and buildings, of course. Under the supervision of the world's leading architects, engineers, and an artist, they came up with a design that the empire could use to protect the devil's shit without breaking it. After all, they have a lot of extrinsic factors to weigh in this project, such as the possibility of a sword hitting its surface, a storm, or a flawed design that would make the crystal destroy itself. Thus, they unveiled their creation to the world!

A gargoyle.

Grandiose statues of malefic-looking gargoyles stood above the watchtowers of Izrecael. Their scales carved brilliantly onto the mudstones, and their body squatting over the towers with their giant veiny hands resting between their legs, clawing the watchtower's roofs with the length of their sharp nails.

The gargoyle statues' countenance is that of a maddened beast. Its eyes are bloodshot in anger as it gazes upon the grounds of Izrecael with all its moral indignation and an utter vexation towards life itself. Its forehead creased as if it's trying to converge its brows together in the wake of its exasperation. Its expression is that of a brainless barbarian seeking nothing but bloodlust. Most incredible of all, its giant mouth reveals its long tongue, sticking it out for the world to bask in its glory. Meanwhile, its fangs are so disgustingly fearsome that I fear it would chomp my head off my body as the gargoyle statue itself relishes on the taste of my flesh. These are all just plain fears of mine for letting my fear run through my veins, but it's still frightening, to say the least. 

Through its giant gaping mouth, the devil's shit inside of the gargoyle statues could unleash its might towards the empire's enemies. 

For decades, the walls of Izrecael remain impregnable to the world's most potent siege weapons and war mages.

That's why my shock is immeasurable when I saw that same darkened wall crumble into million specks of dust in the distance.

"W-who are they?" I whispered loud enough for my companions to hear.

"I don't know," The knight named Sir Damian answered with a similarly weak mumble, "but they are not anything like us."

"Madame Violet, we must go!" Another soldier donning a brass-colored armor shouted. If my memory serves me right, only the king's personal knights can wear a set of armor that has that light orange tint. 

"Wait!" I shouted back, "We must head towards my quarters first."

"We don't have time for that, Madame Belladonna." A different soldier wearing the same brass-colored armor screamed at me with evident haste in his tone.

"I need to get my razheemas first." I pleaded with all the strength I can conjure in my voice, "I will not allow myself to be useless while you poor men protect me as if I can't do so myself!"

My words shocked the men, and although what I said did not surprise Sir Damian, I can at least see that he was impressed with what I said.

"Let's go! Why are you still looking at me!?" I embraced the princes tighter, and though I want to shed my tears at the moment, I fear both my sadness and my fear need to wait. "The king is expecting a lot from us."

We ran towards my room as fast as we could. Servants are running about while soldiers are screaming and sprinting with them in different directions. Meanwhile, mages are chanting spells as they run all over the place. The entire hall of the king is in complete and utter chaos as if the world itself has finally plunged beneath the deep bowels of darkness.

When we finally reached my room, the other servants and noblewomen, who slept in the same halls as I, are all gone, but my room was still left untouched, though unclean.

I opened a secret passage lying deep within my room as the soldiers walked behind me with their blades pointed before them, ready for combat.

"Madame Belladonna, what are we seeking for again?" Sir Damian whispered to me as he leaned his back on mine to use himself as a human shield to protect me, a common practice in the barracks of Izrecael.

Sensing the soldier's curiosity, I knew right away that he had no idea what those devil shit are, and I didn't have time to explain the schematics of it.

"We're looking for my weapons," I said as a clear answer while I look for my keys inside of the shelves beside my bed.

"I didn't know you're a warrior, Madame."

"Of course, I'm not a warrior," I scoffed as I grabbed the key that I was looking for with an "Aha!"

"Forgive my rudeness then, Madame."

"It's fine, Sir Damian," I said as I unlocked the door in the corner of the room. "But my answer has layers on it. I am not a warrior because warriors are men of pride and honor, like you, of course. Unlike you, I do not fight with those virtues in mind."

"…I see."

I opened the wooden door, and what welcomed us is a dark, damp, and empty room. Nothing is inside, aside from a circular table that stood ominously along with the shadows. I have already opened the door, but the lights, which came from outside of the room, are not enough to reveal what lies above that said table.

"Come, my children," I whispered as I entered the darkened room.

Five spheres gleamed from within the room and floated towards my direction. This is how I arm my razheema. I use my magic, not only to protect them with a powerful barrier but also to let them hover in the air through the use of basic psychic magic and have them orbit around me like small planets. Of course, I make sure I gleamed stronger than them so that I may be their sun.

Sorcerers like me are not supposed to be subtle and walk about the shadows in complete silence. That's a job for the rogues and assassins. I made sure my enemies knew who killed them. I want them to remember this face when they die, for I would love to do the same all over again in the afterlife.

I am Violet Belladonna, the close confidant of my queen among many other jobs that I do behind the scene. 

"Men," I shouted with a deep voice. Meanwhile, the princes are now covered with the strongest barriers that I could conjure as they sleep peacefully on my arms, "I hope I can entrust my life to you."

"I'll give you my life if it means you and the princes get to live." Sir Damian, now with his grave wounds healed, proclaimed with utmost determination.

I love my empire.

I do not wish to see it fall.

Not now, not ever.

I will do everything in my power to ensure that this empire stands the test of time and endure to gaze upon the world with its unforgiving eyes for thousands of years.

However, at this very moment, that is not something I can do. No matter how powerful a sorceress is, she cannot defeat million deranged devils on her own. A mere sorceress such as I cannot save the empire, but if I have to offer my life to finish the mission the king bestowed upon me, then I will happily do so with pleasure.

I would love to meet my best friend, Lara, my queen, the woman I pledged to serve for the entirety of my life and have her look at me in the afterlife with pride and pleasure at my efforts to save her sons. I'd rather serve her well till the very end instead of asking for her forgiveness as I knelt beneath her feet in the halls of the God of Dead.

"Where must we head now, Madame Belladonna?" The soldier standing nearest to me asked, still battle-ready with his sword pointed forward.

"To Ur," I said as I strolled through the hall, the silence all around made the men's armors ring from all around, "the catacombs await."

As chaos engulfs the entirety of the empire while our enemies ransack our people's home, my most important mission yet in the twenty-eight years that I've spent being alive in this world commenced.