Insolentia
insolentia -ae f. (1) [inexperience]. (2) [unusual character , novelty, extravagance, excess; pride, arrogance].
Insolentia is an early chapter showing Isadiel at the prime of arrogance. He does not care about anything or anyone but simply himself. It begins with a vivid arrogant display and follows his typical day. This makes Isadiel appear immediately a character to hate, a villain for the main storyline.
Dissensio
dissensio -onis f. [difference in feeling or opinion; disagreement , variance, conflict, opposition].
Dissensio is the war between the nation Isadiel lives under and other weaker powers. In simple terms, Isadiel fights for the dictator who is in the wrong and is trying to conquer the world. This chapter covers much of the history and about battles. Isadiel does not participate in any of the battles, he is stuck on guard duty with prisoners, officers and others, and never experiences the pain of war, until they begin to win, where clades begins.
Clades
clades -is f. [destruction]; in gen. , [disaster, injury, defeat].
A final battle occurs. History leading up to that battle and Isadiel�s duties before it. The battle is described by the dead men. �Dead men tell no tales�. Isadiel falls unconscious during the battle and awakes to a new world. Leads into Astrum.
The silent night faded into obscurity and the beating moon died away. Darkness ruled the land and shadows infested the air, playing over land, sea and nature with their tempting games. Their reign was short. An enormous ball of fire, slowly rising over the horizon, revealing clouds beckoned shadows back to their home. The sky was the colour of blood; smoke rose from two sites and a great fire burned to the south. It was dawn.
The grass blew in the early morning breeze. It soothed and healed the wounds of fire and night. Small dark insects crawled and supped from the sweet products of nature. Flies buzzed joyfully in their daily game of feeding. The mice and small animals that roamed the fields chirped in joyous harmony and even let the birds join in their songs. Black and blue feathers flew through the fields and whistled through the sky. Worms dug into the soft, comforting ground and found pleasure in their purpose.
The hills of the south stood silent witness to the invasion of the fields from the west and the east. The hill had already been ravaged, its land poisoned, its children slain and even those who dwelled upon this hill had suffered that cruel fate. The invaders had left there and formed to the east, watching the defenders slowly muster in the light of the west.
The western camp was brutally efficient. Rows of tents faced the enemy. The warriors were emerging from them, the generals inside stifling yawns from their overnight plans. The warriors slowly crawled out of their tents, carefully packing away their tents and leaving their belongings behind. A few shouts later and a bugle call, they were in strict, ordered regiments. They stared at the enemy, stood defiant in its path but dared not attack it.
To the east, they lounged around, having a dreamless sleep, in the wooden and stone houses of the barns and farms. They did not need to fret and fear for they knew their rivals believed in honour. They would not die in sleep. They could have a hearty meal and relax. Those they had abducted from the city were being guarded by honourable, kind men and not savages. The women sobbed and the men were allowed to console and wipe away their tears. The jailer was kind and even let the captives go for a walk outside, knowing they could not flee for the only place they could flee to, was the great fire they were kidnapped and saved from.
* * * * * *
Isadiel paced back and forth here, silently berating himself for choosing this post yet also comforting himself by the comfort he could give to the captives. No harm was done to them whilst he stood by. He was the defender of justice. No shadow could escape his sight and no rats could hide from his burning glare. He was going insane.
Finally, his task was finished as the next unfortunate jailor came to supervise these prisoners. Isadiel grinned and handed the keys over, before walking off. As he left the barn and closed the door, he heard a slight tearing noise and felt that his successor had chosen the post as he was hungry with lust. Isadiel did not turn back for he doubted the expression he had seen on the man and could not hear the dress being ripped and the frequent sobs of the young women.
Isadiel returned to their small barracks and discarded his soldier�s uniform for a leather vest and trousers beneath his noble�s outfit. When he charged the line he would appear a target yet his leather would protect him. Doubt slowly grew in his mind about what his comrades would say about his outfit, but as his doubt grew, he reassured himself with soothing words and the promises of glory of victory in his first battle. He would ride to the front, slaying arrows and standing triumphant on top of the bodies that bowed down before him.
He marched forth to join his regiment. The eager and the favourers had begun to line up. His formal dress made many soldiers snigger. When even an officer questioned him about his state of mind when he thought up his plan, he flushed. After he had managed to explain that he intended to appear an easy target whilst as he wore armour beneath his formal wear, he would not die from an attack, he sighed. Soon the regiments had been checked off and the soldiers lounged around in the grass. The people of the burning city saw the small ants gather and sit before their leader. The master ant addressed the soldiers:
�We came here to save a nation from tyranny. We have succeeded!
We are just, we are strong; we do not fail in our divine task!
We have experience, tactics and honour!
Yet our final battle has led them to crawl back, to reclaim a tyranny.
Brothers and sisters, let us stand together for one final duel!
The face of tyranny shall be removed from this world!
Peace and love shall persist! We shall enforce the light!
�Come, those with horses, mount and form in the front. First Company have the simple task of running into them head on. Second Company, my great horsemen, you will ride through rocks and trees and debris to flank their camp from behind. Third Company, merchants, women and injured, you are out of this battle today. You get to go to the market in that burning town we set fire too. All you have to do is make sure they don�t get a foothold there and fortify it.
�The companies are assigned as follows. Arc Regiment you are assigned to Second Company�� Isadiel felt apprehension and excitement as he heard that Shadow Regiment was to be part of First Company. His heart beat faster and dreams of glory surfaced once more. He finally retained himself at the close of the long speech, after the tactics had been discussed.
�Good luck. Don�t play the hero, if each of you kills one of them we will win. We attack at the sound of the horn. Have fun!� He departed, leaving them, preparing for the final stand, the epitome of conflict. And so the armies gathered.
Two great armies stood opposite each other. The light slowly rose from its hiding place and watched from far away the great clash. The men stood watching each other intently. Rows of armour and shields coldly watched midnight black horses and riders. To those watching the clash, it appeared that they had all become petrified. Neither force dared make the first move. The clouds slowly passed overhead and kingdoms of the sky rose and fell whilst these two forces stood on guard. The sun had risen to its full height in the sky, arrogantly mocking those who saw it, yet not daring to come and challenge those ones face to face. Yet even eternity does not last forever. The horn sounded and nightmares rode into iron gods. Darkness consumed Isadiel.
* * * * * *
The sky was cloudy with blood. The great fire diminished and the clouds grew heavy with fear and unleashed a torrent of sorrow onto the still, lifeless bodies, freeing them from mortal worries and pain. Rain streaked across their faces, honouring all equally with the blessings of dignity. The fire bled away its last light, coating the world once more in red. Shadows crowded eagerly and awaited the return. The world was plunged into ignorant night. It was dusk.
Sorrow penetrated the cold and Isadiel woke. The stench of death lay around him. He looked to get his bearings and retched. Feathered demons plucked eyes from corpses and men moaned with the breeze. And those that still could walk, looked like corpses themselves, armour crusted in blood, yet still struggling for a lost cause.
Isadiel saw his poor horse, lying dead nearby, never wanting to take part in battle yet forced to die, to prove the master�s power. It had fallen; its broad chest penetrated by a single spear. Isadiel slowly tried to extricate himself from the ruin he was trapped with. After many attempts, the body of Isadiel was cleansed of war, though weak and barely able to stand. Yet his mind could not stop remembering.
He remembered the battle. The noises were horrifying. Men were no more than savage beasts. Blood gushed from wounds and stained blades with the dripping venom of life. Stacks of armour shielded scores of blades, dripping with the venom of life. Stacks of armour shielded scores of blades and shattered hooves scattered around by simple spears of armoured monsters.
He recalled what had happened to himself. He had stood with them, immobile on his horse, gaping open mouthed at those around him, watching veteran mouths call and beckon him to fight or flee. He did neither and was alone, undisturbed until demons noticed him. They fell upon his weakness like a pack of wolves. First, he felt his horse stumble as a leg crumbled. Isadiel saw in blinding clarity, the iron club slowly swing toward him. He saw the face of death, and the eyes of fear in that god which attacked him and he felt no more.
He awoke once more, realising he had relapsed into unconsciousness by the unholy concoction that tried to strangle him into oblivion. This time, he heard no cries and saw no sun. He saw no living warriors wandering around, and noticed that nobody had tried to loot his body. He was shocked by the cruelty of battle and wanted to get away from it all. What else could he do, he ran. He ran until he could run no more and then he stumbled and crawled along to the dim spires of the academy in the waning light. In the darkness of night, he continued, motivated by fear of demons he never collapsed nor slept but crawled along. As shadows returned to their hiding places, the sun rose. The spires were small and fragile when he was close and he could no longer see the magnificence that bound him there. On the plains, they found him, entranced by the fragility of the citadel, half-dead, with blurring vision, they led him into the citadel, welcoming him and celebrating on the return of a single warrior, making him a hero of the time, a great warrior who rose from the dead to return to save his people. Isadiel�s bitterness grew.
Astrum
astrum -i n. [a star , or constellation]. Transf., esp. plur., [the heights, glory, immortality].
The return of Isadiel. He sees them celebrating and sees pillaging and is disgusted. He eventually manages to take control of himself and doesn�t go psycho but he does slowly become more paranoid.
Proditio
proditio -onis f. [betrayal , treason].
Following Astrum, Isadiel is losing his naivety and is being to notice sins. When he notices a common sin against him that has been done countless times, Isadiel believes he has been betrayed. Isadiel�s paranoia causes one of them to betray him. He knows that he should stop being paranoid but can�t and has to leave them to stop himself doing rash deeds.
Exordium
Exordium lit. exordium -i n. [the warp of a web]; in gen., [a beginning]; esp. [the beginning of a speech].
This chapter is about how he realises he is falling for the deceits and how he is changing himself and that he is becoming as deceitful as them. He is trying to escape the darkness
Angor
angor -oris m. [compression of the throat , suffocation]; of the mind, [distress, anguish, trouble].
Isadiel watches suffering. He sees so much happening and does not help anyone. He vows to help the next person he sees suffering but he can�t manage to break the trance he is under. He is tormented by his inability to act.
Flagitium
flagitium -i n. [a disgraceful action , shameful crime; shame, disgrace]; meton., [scoundrel, rascal].
This is the disgrace. It causes him to abandon them. The disgrace is the final stand. He loses the duel. They are silent. Their silence enrages him and he runs out mad, afraid of staying and attacking them.
Aurora
aurora -ae f. [dawn , break of day]; personified, [Aurora, goddess of morning]. meton., [the east].
The dawn of a new Isadiel. He has lost all that he holds dear and clings onto life and sanity with an oily grip.
Isadiel needed to keep him warm now was his anger and hatred of them and their lies. His naked feet trod on cold stone and jagged ice and even the cold, piercing pain he felt fuelled his anger. He would not be deterred this time. Isadiel needed time alone, he needed to see the truth and find what he had done so wrong.
Yet he needed to confront them once more, he desired to slay them all for insulting him so gravely and his judgement was clouded. He who had once been just, became clouded and unjust. The frost and shadows called him away from them into the forgiving, calm blizzard. He could end it all now. He could give up and forget his life. He could chance all on oblivion and afterlife and make the ultimate gamble with his life. He continued on through the snow, his feet stepping upon needles. His face was pale and cold, yet his anger made him feel the power to melt the snow that landed upon his face. He could control his destiny and leave his wretched existence. He could live and become almighty and conquer those who hated him.
The daggers of ice shattered upon his burning resolve. His body pleaded with his mind to find warmth yet the mind was already too warm and he stood alone, standing in the cold blizzard, listening to the sound of the howling wind and watching the blurred figures chasing after him in the snowstorm. He hated them and at the same time, he felt sorry for what he had done. The cold penetrated his anger and he fell down, shivering.
Deep within the dark, the chains of honour and duty that had bound him were faltering. Angels begged him to reforge his chains whilst the shadows whispered power to him if he freed himself. The discord grew louder and Isadiel fell to his knees, clutching his ears and screaming at his torment. He looked at himself and saw what he had to do. He touched the feeble chains and they were gone. He was free.
Distortio
distortio -onis f. [distortion].
Alone in the dark, many things can seem different from what they truly are. Isadiel is consumed by insanity. A week from society and he is insane. He has to find a new home that will accept him. He does not believe that home is on the world.
Exodus
The departure of one man, Isadiel. The arrogance is his barrier. It makes him strong again and his mind and all his ideas are leaving them forever, thus exodus = departure of many being used for only one man relocating. It is the confrontations between heart and mind that cause him to do this.
�And what do you mean by that?� he replied.
�You are neither the first nor the last that has been deceived this way, young sir knight. You are but the icing on a cake. She will never remember you. You are useless to her.� He smirked at him, seeing his rage grow and his tears flow. He slowly stood there, frozen as if petrified from a medusa that lay within him. His eyes showed the eternal, internal discord that he struggled to control. He had never been wanted. It had all been a lie. What they said to him now was a lie. His heart stopped and his sword came into his hand, gleaming in a fury as great as his.
They laughed at him, and did not even draw their sword, but simply smirked even more and walked closer. �So you think you can stop me? Why bother, she never loved you. You gain nothing from killing me. However, think of the pain she has inflicted upon you and upon others. Now that is not befitting for a man of your calibre is it? Young knights shouldn�t have to suffer such humiliation, and at the hands of a noble lady, what a tragedy!�
�You lie! She could never be so cruel!�
�And do you believe what you say? What have you always felt deep in your heart about her? You always doubted her. Yet you never follow your instincts.�
�That is because I am better than that. I am not a primitive devil such as yourself.� He began to feel the rage of flesh overwhelm him as the pain ran through him and the guilt grew greater. He could not contain his fear and so he let it out. The primitive devil grabbed him as he charged and kicked him in the leg. He stumbled and felt a heavy weight explode upon his head. He gazed upward and was horrified.
He saw them all. He saw their spirits moaning above him, mocking him for falling prey to her deceits. He saw the primitive devil laughing above him and knew that the other knights would know the deceit that had fallen upon him. They would not understand. He was damned. His fury exploded as he stood back up and faced the primitive devil again. This time, they fell down before him, the guards died first and then the knights until he reached the throne room. Only the king was there. He was damned and his consequences no longer mattered. He intended to stop all knowing his pain and moved in for the first strike against his love.
* * * * * *
The iron fist clenched into a ball, as the mind woke to the new callings. The cold, forgotten eyes stared at the iron gauntlet and watched it unfurl. The last rose petals fell from the hand, like a snake casting off its old scales. The calling beckoned him stronger now, for the old paths were closed to him. The haunting memories chased him like the sound of his metal greaves cascading upon the stone tiles.
His greaves were stained red with the blood he had shed in past deeds. The emblems of a former life washed away by the viciousness of his new self. He faltered for a second, before he continued, as if he was in control of himself, across the ancient drawbridge into the brilliant light of the day. Before him lay a new chance at life, a dream that could not be true yet could not be false when it seemed so real to him. His appearance produced many strange looks at his armour, an image which he did not want to remember, yet knew that it would be etched in his memory even if he were to do darker deeds.
And so, he was forced to allow himself to be enveloped by a swirling brown robe, as if he were a common monk, visiting town for his daily sermons. He felt the eyes of a hundred villagers stare at him and burn into his mind as they gazed innocently upon the guilty man. He hoped they would not recognise him, knew that if he was stopped, his resolve would falter and he would be his former self again. His mind screamed at his betrayal of his past, his life and of his future that were all his to own, but were not his to enjoy.
He pushed open a rotted wooden door and stepped across the foul smelling floor to the horses. He swiftly mounted it and departed to the shouts of an angry horse breeder. He did not look back on the life he had left behind.
Veritas
veritas -atis f. [the truth , reality; truthfulness, telling of truth]; in gen. [honesty].
Following Exodus, Isadiel slowly begins to accept himself and his hatred of her grew. Once he knows the truth, he wants to find an end as he has caused all of this pain to everyone.
Blandus
blandus -a -um [flattering , caressing, alluring, tempting]. Adv. blande and blanditer, [flatteringly].
Isadiel�s attempts to stop himself falling. His failure and his ideas of what he has to do on his new path. The temptations are great for him and as he falls for one temptation, so does he see that he will never be free from his conflict whilst he remains alive.
Insanio
insanio -ire [to be mad , rage, rave; to be inspired].
The chaos that the storm brings. A great storm occurs and many are stranded and the world�s order falls apart. The collapse of society and nature. The people trapped in it. Isadiel trying to help people with the storm, trying to right the wrongs he has caused. It turns into Isadiel imagining he is the storm and having the power until he is brought to reality by his failure to save, his inability to help others and this causes a change in him.
Exsecratus
exsecratus -a -um, [cursed, accursed].
Isadiel is mad. He believes he is cursed and so he does many evil deeds. He no longer cares about good and serves evil whole heartedly. Yet when he kills somebody, uses repetition from previous chapters, it reminds him of what he really was and makes him feel once more. Yet he has done so much wrong and the only way he believes he can save and repent is death.
Dark thoughts filled Isadiel�s mind as he stood triumphant on the craggy rocks overlooking the sleeping city. The storm was no more than a slight breeze to him, causing his black cloak to sway in the breeze. Isadiel had gotten his honourable evil image and felt the power flow through him. Though bitter, he knew he could do whatever he wanted. He was the only power in the world. He could slay dragons, shatter empires, and do dark deeds that he had always kept bottled inside him.
Exitium
exitium -i n. [going out or away]; hence [destruction , ruin]; also [a cause of destruction].
The end. More storm. Leads onto Isadiel. Isadiel�s fear. Isadiel�s doubt. Isadiel�s death.
Thunder. The storm deepened in its dark cacophony of destruction. The everlasting monsoon had descended upon the world in its darkest hour. Homely, safe stone crumpled before the onslaught and wood dwellings broke free from humanity�s tyranny, Even the trees bowed before their master.
Wagons lay abandoned, broken toys discarded by their masters, no longer useful to save civilisation. Yet feathered demons feasted upon the trapped, their eyes gleaming with the joy of having sated their long hunger. Their feathers, bloody from the infernal luncheon and cleansed by soothing rain gleamed most unholy. Any sane master had fled, yet still the unfortunate tried to salvage their prestige and remained there, to suffer the barrage of chaos.
Lightning. A lone rider hurried away from the stone keep. The hooves created a pleasant harmony with the howling wind and constant rain. The rider clung to his left arm and swayed in his saddle. His face was pale and a pair of eyes were locked onto the malevolent cliff face glaring at fleeing ships, and where once fanatics had worshipped great lords and now begged for meek forgiveness.
As he neared he could make out their cries; they cried to their gods and even to their devils. They could no longer bribe their way to a safe afterlife. He gazed down upon them, despising their weakness and barely restraining himself from doing rash deeds. He dismounted, not tying his horse to the cold, firm altar for he did not need a horse where he was heading. He greeted the fanatics with a casual grunt before walking to the imposing nose of the cliff. He stood in awe, no longer aware of the rain, yet mesmerised by the beauty of the world he lived in. As his final decision was being attended to, his doubts grew.
The memory he had kept secret to everyone surfaced in his final hour. He sadly remembered the unmatched beauty and joy of their time together as one joyful whole. The thunder sounded, the fanatics wailed louder for redemption and he grew cold. Blood covered his hands and he could not remove it nor hide it. He did not want to show her his darkness but somehow she saw it. Her look petrified his heart. He became a monster, a creature from the night, preying on the innocent and letting none survive. The blood flowed as tears and he could not stem the tide. He was beyond redemption now. He could never love again.
And so, his dark metamorphosis began, he could no longer accept his role and ran away a coward. Soon, his mind changed. His beloved became monstrous and she wailed like a banshee for her love. The next instant he was back in her arms, welcomed by her and caressing her smooth hair and they lived as though naught had changed for many years until death came�
He shivered violently; he had come here to end his suffering. The agony of a thousand victims was guiding him onwards and the pride of a great murderer fled to the darkest recesses of his soul. As he left the world, he called out to his love, begging forgiveness for his sins against her.
The fanatics watched his fall with morbid fascination. They watched the skull splinter and the helmet roll away. Blood oozed from his delicate head and saw it trickle between sand, sea and foam and so his body became lost to all as the tide rose and submerged the instrument of destruction. As if the gods had been appeased, the storm lessened. The next day, neither body nor storm was left.
