A Priori

“Why do you even try ?”

Words not thrown as a venomous accusation, nor as half-hearted mocking of a fallen hero; as such words usually were spoken as. Instead they were questioning- a simple, honest query directed towards the Seraphic commander who, contrary to first glance, wasn’t fully conscious.

Laken was startled out of his sleep-deprived reverie and instantly, instinctively snapped to his feet, turning to face the visitor to his quarters. A gloved hand was around his dagger in an instant. Shadowed eyes were wide for a moment, then narrowed considerably as Laken sighed- there wasn’t any danger; he wasn’t usually so cautious, but after the debacle with Adventus, he was wary of every corner even in the Seraph’s own fortress. Random voices from behind him weren’t exactly… comforting. Pausing a moment more, the man stared (and Avatars, did he stare) at his guest.

The she-beast, or whatever the hell the odd group of Seraphic recruits called her, was standing in his doorway. Over six feet tall and perched atop ungainly digitigrade legs, balancing with the aid of a slowly flicking but muscular tail, the draconian woman loomed in front of him with a unnatural silhouette. Calling her unnerving would be a gross understatement. Not to mention the tattered purple robes she was garbed in (like those of a corpse) that fluttered softly in some unfelt breeze- a similar breeze that made the dark hair on the back of his neck rise. “ What. ” He uttered simply, voice gruff like his appearance, gazing down- up - at the woman and her uncalled-for question.

Unfazed by the harsh atmosphere that practically screamed how much the exhausted Laken really didn’t want her to be there, or anywhere close to his fortress, Vehafor (the name suddenly sparked in his memory) simply blinked owlishly and repeated herself- “Why do you try, commander?”

Met with a deafening silence, the being mentally stumbled and tried to rephrase. “Fighting. all this violence and death and sadness… and yet you still do not hesitate to raise your blade against the- Legion, they are called? And their leader, Dage .” She shook her head; almost sadly, but seemingly out of pity as well.

“Why wouldn’t I try ?” Laken had to restrain himself from grating his teeth together as an accurate reflection of his current attitude- instead he resorted glaring even harder, and rounding the chair he was seated in before to face Vehafor fully. “Are you suggesting I let Dage and his lackeys turn the rest of Lore into mindless undead, corrupting it with lifeless filth?” He spat, voice rising with his passion, bubbling like Shurpu lava. “I know not of your intentions or morals, creature, but if you came here to advise me to just simply give up, then I’ll have to ask you to kindly get the hell out .”

The tension crackled like thunder in the room, and Vehafor was, for the moment, stunned. “No- That is not-” Her apathetic fa ç ade flickered out and her brow furrowed. “I meant…” She sighed. After a moment she (apparently, considering she had no pupils) met Laken’s gaze steadily, confusion still clouding her face, however, as she sought how to shape the words in her head. Ah, how language had changed in the centuries she had been catatonic…”In all due respect, Commander-”

Laken audibly scoffed, but Vehafor ignored it and continued as her voice dipped.

“You are grossly outnumbered, outgunned... and, judging by what I’ve heard of your most recent escapade, out-planned as well, by the Legion. You are but one small order, facing an unmoving force. In my experience-”

“Which is outdated .”

“ Ahem . Underdogs never often survived- there was no heroic overtake, no triumph from below. You Seraphs have already lost so much. Men, women… friends .” A look of pity that Laken ignored, jaw set like iron. “It would be so much easier to just let someone else take on Lord Dage’s army.”

A black brow quirked at the formal title for his greatest enemy, but he wisely kept silent.

“Some other army, some other hero from lands beyond. Perhaps, then, it would save you some grief. By the time you come to face the Legion in glorious battle, you shall be alone, with nothing but corpses of lost soldiers to keep you company.”

“ Ah , are your kind always this… optimistic?”

Vehafor laughed dryly. “I speak nothing but the truth, or at least, what I see as the truth. I ask once more, facing all of these hurdles, why do you try with such fervor as you do?”

There was a long pause. Not awkward or empty, but thoughtful… yet still as heavy as fog.

“Because…” Laken started, exhaling his prior frustration out deeply, before looking down at the ground and back up into those empty white voids for eyes that seemed to judge his very soul in this one quick moment in time, seeing everything he was and everything he had ever done, every sin he had committed in the name of Dage and every virtue in the name of the Seraphic Order. He instinctively shuddered, meeting the lonely god’s scrying gaze.

“If we don’t, if I don’t stand up to Dage... Then what reason is there for believing anyone else will ?”

The man swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to keep his face straight, the passion rising up once again, along with all the feelings of hatred towards the undead lord and all he had ruined... innocent and damned alike.

Vehafor, after a brief instant of contemplation, nodded solemnly, as if understanding something within that the man barely understood himself. “Odds are against you... but they're just numbers after the two-to-one, are they not?” A smile graced her smooth features, exposing glistening canines. “You are playing the hand you've been dealt… I can respect that.”

“But you do realise, Commander, you are making an awfully large gamble, held up by the backs of mortals against those undead who cannot, will not die.” Veha wrinkled her nose, leaning back against the mortar wall behind her as she crossed her arms. As a force of habit her feet lifted off the floor once more and she settled into a hovering crossed-legs position, her posture seemingly judgemental but expression curious.

“Everyone and everything perishes at some time… Or, least, everyone should .” Laken stressed the last word, and the goddess had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about the undead. “If we were to die in honorable battle against the Legion, then I think the Seraphs would be fine with such a fate. As long as it furthers our cause of defeating Dage and his army.”

Laken watched warily as his companion’s face went blank, then darkened as her thin lips turned downwards into a deep frown.

“So I take it you are not upset, then, by- what was his name again?- Darkon’s death?”

Vehafor saw his swift reaction- his posture stiffened, jaw clenched, and hands clasped so tightly around the corner of the chair that one might think he’d be prepping to throw it through the stained-glass window, or potentially at her . She realized too late that perhaps that was an insensitive question (as rhetorical as it was).

“My friend…” Laken stared at the chair, avoiding any possible eye contact as he grit his teeth, “ Died . For what he believed in.” He froze once more, but as Vehafor attempted to respond, he continued, cutting her off with a shake of his head.

“And you come in here and ask me, after all the suffering I’ve been through, why I still give a damn?” Laken bit by bit relaxed his stiffened posture as his gaze rose to meet Vehafor’s. “Why any of us do?”

She nodded, just once.

The Seraphic Grandmaster chuckled.

“Honestly? I’m not sure... not anymore.”