The Color of Trust - Chapter 1

The din of the battle raging outside was reduced to a murmur in the twisted corridors and echoless halls of the obsidian castle. Its sparsely illuminated hallways resembled the bowels of an unholy beast that could come to life and attempt to begin its digestion cycle at any time, and the darkness broken up by flickering torches appeared to perform a feverish dance in the corners of one's vision.

A man in his early twenties, with short dark brown hair and a pair of attentive green eyes ran ran through this maze-like structure. Coveing his silver armor was a dark green tabard and a heavy cape of the same color, woven from elvish wool, was draped over his shoulders. At his side rested a brown leather scabbard holding a sword with a golden hilt and white grip. The pommel was made from gold as well, featuring an intricately carved half-open rose bud, from which a clear diamond peeked out.

He was a human called Galeran, and he looked completely out of place in these dark corridors. His acute senses trained on his surroundings to pick up on any potential ambushes lurking in the shadows of alcoves, around corners or from the rooms he passed by, he made his way through the castle quickly and silently. He did not encounter anybody along the way, the sound of his seemingly muffled footsteps his only company in this foreign place.

Blackdown Castle, the lair of the Overlord - the king of the demons - was deserted save for a few servants that tried to hide behind locked doors rather than escape through the many hidden passageways leading outside the city. Their presence was clear to him due to the fear each one of them exuded, telltale signs that they were non-combatants. All the guards had already been drawn outside in a futile attempt to defend the gates and battlements from the siege of the overwhelmingly large forces of the Free Alliance.

Using the commotion outside, Galeran had infiltrated the castle all on his own. His aim was to kill the Overlord, so that there may finally be peace. And to that end, he would personally see to it that the enemy's supreme leader would not be able to escape. Yet, there was unease in his heart.

He felt more like an assassin than a hero.

Lauded as the greatest warrior any race within the Alliance had ever seen. Surpassing prophecies and legends alike, Galeran had transcended all expectations. When the Oracle of Moonspire first met him, she had nearly fainted at the potential she had glimpsed in him. And the man who had widely been considered the most powerful member of the Alliance before his emergence, Knight Commander Fulchard, had immediately understood the difference in their strength with a single exchange of blows.

Galeran was not just an unparalleled warrior, but also possessed incredible mental fortitude. His unwavering determination and righteous heart that stood up against any and all injustice had changed the Empire of Asparion for the better. Abuse of noble power and corruption was at an all-time low, and people of all social standings had become more cordial and kind to their fellow citizens due to his growing legend.

Such was the influence of a seemingly absolute existence that the hero Galeran represented. Therefore, nobody would question that he employed a tactic otherwise considered dishonorable, to prevent the loss of more lives. If he brought the Overlord down here today, the war would finally come to an end.

From the large foyer ahead Galeran finally saw an emotion other than fear for the first time since entering the castle through a hidden passageway. Bloodlust and killing intent spilled across his vision in crimson and dark red streaks like mist, alerting him to the presence of two living beings that were ready for battle. Peeking around the corner of the corridor and into the foyer, he could see the figures of two ironclad demons wielding large halberds, standing watch at a large, richly ornamented steel gate. That was most likely the entrance to the throne room.

Emanating from them was the colored mist that played around all living things within Galeran's perception. It was an ability he kept secret from all, including his allies and those he would call his friends; it was the reason for his invincibility in battle. His sense of righteousness and conviction to do good came from this gift, which allowed him to see feelings and emotions as something tangible rather than abstract concepts.

"Why're we damned to stand guard here? I wanna join the battle outside." The one on the right grumbled.

"I hear ya." The other replied and sighed.

"Let's abandon this post. Not like anyone's coming here anyway." The first suggested in a hushed voice.

"Nah, if we're found out, we'll get punished." The second one shook his head and shrugged in response.

"Damn..."

With this exchange, the two guard demons went quiet again, but their bloodlust increased in intensity. They were eager for battle and disappointed at being confined here instead of joining the defense of the castle. It was clear that they did not know about their imminent loss even without the help of the human hero fighting at the front lines.

Galeran determined that there were no redeeming qualities to their bloodthirsty nature; they wanted to fight, not for an ideological cause or to protect someone, but simply for their own twisted sense of pleasure. He had met many different kinds of demons, including those that had shown love and self-sacrifice, but these two were not of that type.

Drawing his sword Eversong, the most powerful among the four treasured weapons of the empire, he ran out of cover to face these fiends. They would find redemption in death.

"What? A human here?" The one on the right was the first to react, and his companion turned his head towards Galeran at his words. The foyer was long and wide enough for them to swing their large weapons, which possessed a longer range than a sword. Still, the hero charged forward fearlessly and bridged the distance faster than the eyes could follow.

With flowing motions, Eversong struck the closest guard's halberd aside, cut off the exposed thumb on his forward right hand holding the shaft of the weapon, sliced the pit of the left elbow through the gambeson under the plate armor, and finally pierced into the eye slit on the full helm. Throughout, the weapon seemed to hum in an angelic voice that would echo in the heads of those who saw it - or were on the receiving end of its razor-sharp edge.

"H-how?!" The second demon let out a fearful howl and swung his weapon, but Galeran already entered into close range. With a body check, he pushed the guard into the wall beside the gate and thrust his sword into the opening between his body armor and his full helm. The tip reemerged from the top of his head and sent the helmet flying off.

Just as the first guard finally collapsed to the floor slowly and almost soundlessly, Eversong was pulled out of the second's throat. Then the flying helmet dropped to the ground with a loud crash. Yet, there was no sound emerging from the other side of the steel gate. Maybe the throne room had a hidden passageway outside the castle, and these guards had been left behind to slow any pursuers.

Placing his hand on the gate's surface, he checked for any magical traps or curses, but found none. The defenses of this castle's interior were almost as weak as those of the Imperial Palace of Asparion, although the latter even lacked the permanent detection barrier he had to break through to enter this one. It just meant that his objective was easier to fulfill, so he would not complain; at the same time, he braced himself for traps or an ambush on the other side. Even if he was confident in his abilities, negligence was the primary cause for failure and death.

Galeran kicked open the two wings of the steel gate with a single foot and immediately entered a defensive stance. But no attacks came.

The large throne room was largely undecorated save for life-sized obsidian statues of previous Overlords standing in alcoves on both sides of the gallery. Behind them hung the customized flags they used during their lives, each featuring black and red as their primary color schemes. The black tiles covering the ground appeared to absorb the light given off by the large fire stands, which barely illuminated the dark interior.

At the very end of the room, on an elevated platform where one would have expected the Overlord to be seated, a little girl who had yet to reach her teens sat uncomfortably on the oversized and ornate throne, hugging a stuffed doll to her chest. She had a petite body with dim gray skin in a fine dark purple dress and was shivering in the cold and lonely hall. Her large violet eyes glowing in the twilight were opened wide in fear, and a sharp fang was biting down on her pale pink lower lip so hard that it almost drew blood. Quivering pointy ears peeking out on both sides of her head full of long silvery-white hair, and two small underdeveloped horns protruding from the corners of her forehead and parting her bangs indicated that she was a demon child.

And above those horns rested a black tiara with an inlaid green gem. The least but also most likely explanation was that she was the Overlord; after all, nobody had ever seen him or her before. But the emotions radiating from her took the hero by surprise. The dark purple of fear was interspersed with the whiteness of innocence, and beneath it all were dark blue streaks of loneliness. Not a hint of evil could be seen in her being, and something about her appearance tugged at his heartstrings.

"Are you the Overlord?" Galeran asked with a firm voice, which caused the girl to cower and hug her stuffed doll as strongly as she could, as if fearing that he would take it away from her. He could tell from her reaction and the colors wafting around her tiny frame like mist that she was not hiding anything.

Suddenly, the voices of thousands of soldiers cheering outside washed through the castle's interior. If the gate had fallen or the battlements had been stormed, the sounds of battle would have continued. The fact that it was now growing quieter meant that the battle must have been over, and from the tone of the voices, the Alliance were the ones that had achieved victory.

The demon girl looked around with a haunted expression moments after the cheers stopped, as if something invisible danced around her. Then her eyes went wide in realization and large tears began to form in their corners. They rolled down her flushed cheeks as the gray color of sadness began to overshadow all her other emotions. It was so strong that Galeran felt affected by it, but he clenched his fist over his chest and stepped forward with determination.

Apparently her sadness was so profound that she did not even have the presence of mind to realize that he was approaching her. Walking up the steps to the throne, the human so out of place in this hall of demons trained his senses on his surroundings. He could tell that there were no soldiers waiting in ambush, and there were no hidden passages leading out of the hall. This young girl had been seated here with only two guards outside the door and no attendants to look after her.

In essence, she had been abandoned.

Such a little girl filled with innocence and fear at the sight of a single human could not be the Overlord. He was responsible for giving the orders for the ravaging and slaughter of innocent frontier villagers, the pillaging and burning of peaceful cities, and the raiding and sinking of neutral trading ships. His total mobilization had singlehandedly escalated the cold war between the Alliance and the demon tribes over the course of a single year, even though the two had been able to coexist in relative peace for the past two decades.

"Who are you?" Coming to a stop in front of the girl, Eversong loosely in his hand, Galeran inquired flatly. He had never been good at speaking with people in an amicable way. It was the biggest weakness his otherwise seemingly perfect self displayed, but it stemmed from the fact that he had lost his trust in others. With the ability to tell emotions and differentiate truth from lies, he learned that there was just too much falsehood in spoken promises; only actions showed a person's real character.

Realizing that the human had approached within range to strike with his sword, the girl tried to ball herself up and pressed her eyes shut in terror. Galeran blinked at the reaction and was dumbfounded at the wave of dark purple fear she gave off once more. There was not a shred of the possibility that she was the Overlord. The more likely explanation would be that she was a puppet put in place for the convenience of someone ruling from the shadows, who used the name of the Overlord to unite the demon tribes and start a war.

The sound of many footsteps rushing towards their location could be heard echoing through the foyer outside and entering into the throne room. Galeran turned his back towards the girl to look in the direction; it was the final test to see whether she was merely in perfect control of her emotions or genuinely innocent. The moment he could smell her intentions change, he would spin around on the spot and cut her head off.

But nothing of the sort happened. All he could hear was her quiet sobbing as she repeatedly wiped away her freely flowing tears, and smell her wish for safety and warmth.

Before he could turn around again to take a closer look at the little girl, a nauseating wave of crimson bloodlust and bright orange joy washed across the foyer and wafted in through the open steel gate, long before anyone came into view. This was the main reason for why Galeran had not wanted to participate in the battle outside; for him, keeping an overview of a tumultuous battlefield with his ability was an impossibility. He would most likely have accidentally attacked an ally due to their overwhelming emotions obscuring their appearances. Unless he knew them personally, he could not easily distinguish an individual from another when life and death situations caused their feelings to run rampant.

Finally, the first people appeared, bloodied weapons drawn and frenzied expressions on their faces. They were ecstatic and it became clear to Galeran that there was more at work than just the successful storming of the castle. The joy that almost outweighed their thirst for a massacre could not stem from anything less than what they believed to be a victory.

At the front of the more than a dozen soldiers was the female elven warrior that had been assigned by the Kingdom of Valeyar to join him on his campaign against the demon tribes. Her name was Elspet, rumored to be second only to Fulchard in martial prowess at the tender age of seventeen; many said she was a rising star and would soon surpass him. Due to her race's long-lived nature, she had many centuries to further improve herself and some believed that she had the potential to become even more powerful than the hero himself one day.

Soon into their travels, Galeran had noticed that a color he had never seen before developed around her whenever she spoke to him. He had taken it as a sign that she could not be trusted and had since tried to distance himself from her. Even now, the sickeningly bright pink was quickly replacing the crimson that covered her like it did all the others in her wake, when she spotted him.

"Galeran, we brought down General Barranok!" The wafting pink was interspersed with orange joy, when she said those words and waved at him with her free hand. The magic sword Severance was unsheathed and gripped loosely in her right, its normally beautiful faint blue glow drowned out by the emotions of those that followed behind her. They were the Elite Knight Corps of the Alliance, comprised of the most experienced and well-trained soldiers of all member states.

General Barranok had been the last line of defense for demonkind. Since it became clear over the course of the war that the Overlord was either a statesman without combat abilities or simply a coward who only sat on his throne in the security of his castle, the various generals had proven to be the leading forces behind the demon war machine. Galeran and his party had been responsible for taking them down one after another, quickly weakening the chain of command in the process. It had ultimately led to this final showdown at the demon capital of Malrond with Barranok being the last remaining general to lead its army. His death was tantamount to a total victory, unless the Overlord rose up to the occasion.

"... where is the Overlord?" Elspet came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the throne. Since Galeran was standing before the little girl in his heavy green robe, she was hidden from view. He could see the tendrils of her dark purple fear wafting around him and clinging onto his clothes like desperate plea for help.

"He wasn't here." He responded plainly and looked across the faces of the gathered knights. Many had removed their helmets or lifted their visors, but he viewed it as deadly carelessness. If there had been hidden enemies along the way, that act could have caused them to get killed in an ambush.

"Who's that?" Lifting an eyebrow questioningly, Elspet suddenly inquired. Trying to peek around Galeran, the dark violet of unease mixed into the bright pink mist surrounding her.

"I found her here instead of the Overlord." Stepping aside, the hero found no way to justify hiding anything behind him from view, especially since they were inside the demon castle. But the moment he had done so, he regretted it immediately.

Although the crimson bloodlust had faded from the knights and had largely been replaced by orange joy due to the victory over Barranok, it took them less than a second to recognize the girl as a demon, and a crimson flower blossomed around each and every one of them once more. The resulting smell of their intentions caused Galeran to flare his nostrils and disbelief filled his mind.

They wanted to kill this little girl solely due to the fact that she was a demon. Even though he had declared that this was not an extermination war, since he had come to understand that demons were just another race of people that tried their hardest to live in this world, there were many who did not see it the same way. Having lost their families to raids and skirmishes, their hatred could not be appeased by just achieving peace, and all they cared for was revenge. Among these elite knights, most were just like that.

"It's a demon! Why did you let it live?" One of those knights, whose name Galeran could not bother to remember, asked in a reproachful tone. There was not a hint of doubt in his demeanor regarding the slaughter of a defenseless child, and all the hero could feel was disgust at the former's unshakable conviction that it was only right to do so because she was a demon.

"She is innocent." Declaring so, he stood up for her. His determination to defend the weak did not stop at the members of the Alliance, but extended to all races in this world. Those who sowed unjustified violence were those in the wrong, whether they were humans, elves or demons. And he could never justify the killing of a young child, regardless of its race or heritage.

"What are you saying, Galeran? If she's sitting on that throne, she must be the child of the Overlord." Another knight stepped forward and the wave of nauseating crimson he emitted was the final drop that caused the bucket to spill over.

With a glare Galeran silenced the voices of agreement that had begun to rise from the other knights. They were taken aback by the anger in his eyes and some even took a step back in shock. Turning around and extending a hand to the girl in the most gentle gesture he could muster, the human hero expressed his wish to keep the young demon safe.

Blinking her glowing violet eyes, the girl shifted her gaze between the presented hand and the face of the man before her. It was impossible to tell his thoughts from that neutral but determined gaze, and even though she did not understand the meaning of the words they exchanged, she could feel that he offered his hand in a promise of protection. And the group of knights led by the female elf wore expressions on their faces that only spelled pain.

Reluctantly lifting her small quivering hand, she inched closer to the man's open palm, shying away one last time before finally placing herself in his care. His fingers closed around her tiny hand and the grasp was warm and gentle. Even though his face remained firm and his eyes cold, the reassurance of that warmth was undeniable.

"She is innocent." Galeran stated one more time, in a dangerously low and quiet voice. It sent shivers down the gathered humans' backs and Elspet's eyes widened in surprise. The dark purple of fear mixed into her unknown bright pink emotion.

"A-are you siding with a demon? That's treason!" The first knight gathered his courage and spoke up with a weak stutter. Other voices in favor of this notion grew louder and the tension in the room became more and more tangible.

"Wait, are you serious about this?" Elspet turned to her followers, and then to Galeran, disbelief written in her features. She did not understand how the situation could come to this, but it was already too late.

"I will protect her." Lifting the demon girl up so that she rested against his chest, he pointed his sword down towards the gathered knights standing at the bottom of the stairs. This quiet and simple statement, coupled with his actions, was enough confirmation for them. They took their stances and pointed their weapons at their hero, who seemed to have gone mad.

"Apprehend him!" A voice shouted, and everyone sprung into action at the same time. But to Galeran, they may as well have been standing still.

"Hold on tight." With these words, he descended the stairs like a fleeting mirage. Eversong's hum entered the knights' heads and terror washed over them at its furious tone; it was as if the sword was reprimanding them for raising their weapons against the man they had pledged their loyalty to and chosen to follow through all future hardships.

But at the same time, duty demanded of them to hold him back from committing treason, even if they had to cross swords with him. Not one of them wished to hurt him, but they understood that they could not fight him with a weak heart. After all, he was a man who surpassed even Fulchard, who seemed like an unstoppable force on the battlefield. Yet, knowing and applying that knowledge were two separate tasks.

As intermingling doubt and determination created a conflict in the elite knights' minds, their senses were dulled and their movements a step too slow. Weaving his way through them, Galeran effortlessly avoided every single slash and thrust, swinging Eversong like an extension of his own arm and cutting through the leather straps holding the pieces of their armors together. Deploying the broad side of the sword, he slapped the wrists of their sword hands at a mind-numbing speed. Then he was clear of them, emerging at their rear with his sword pointing downwards.

Stabbing it into the ground next to him, he walked away from the Elite Knight Corps without looking back. Leaving behind more than a dozen stunned veteran warriors who had dropped their swords and lost every single piece of armor on their bodies without sustaining a single wound, the hero departed with the demon girl in his arms. Eversong's tune faded away and turned into silent rebuke, while its faint white glow disappeared, as if in response to the departure of her beloved wielder.