Aurion Ch. 04

"I don't really care what you believe. If you took the time to debrief the small group that came in yesterday, you wouldn't look like a jealous fool now for they witnessed the event. Now sit down, shut up and let your betters speak BOY!"

Morae glared hate at Michael while several others looked silently outraged. "I dont know why you are all behaving this way but you should be ashamed. The wise and noble Elves showing poor hospitality and bickering like children! Not sure what gives you the idea that you are entitled to human defense but many men and women are going to die to ensure you retain your pampered comfort. So SHOW SOME RESPECT!" Michael roared.

The Princess, suitably chastised, said, "he's right. We stand here arguing as our enemies spend every minute hastening our demise," turning to Michael, "what can we get you?"

"I would have your generals, lead armorers and smiths meet me after dinner at Amila's house. We have much to discuss and there is some information I will need to send to my men. I have a force already moving this direction so we will also need to work out a way to sneak them past the enemy and into the forest so that we may coordinate a single battle line. I will know more of what we need when I have a plan. For now, have your people start gathering any extra food, metal and wood. That'll be all", Michael said.

"Actually, there is one more matter if like to discuss, your highness." Amila said.

"Of course, Amila. What is it?" Princess Frey replied.

"I would like to motion for a dismissal of the nuptial engagement between myself and Morae of house Owain."

The crowd was again frozen silent. "On what grounds?" Frey asked, looking truly interested for the first time all night.

"Pregnancy", Amila all but whispered.

The bystanders looked around at each other, clearly puzzled, while all of the Morae looked troubled and Owain looked furious. "Care to explain what you mean by that?" Frey asked.

"The child growing in my womb, and my heart, belong to the man I love. That man is not Owain. That is all that's relevant."

"Who is it?! I'll kill them for this dishonor!" Owain screamed.

Michael, meanwhile, turned to look at Amila as his eyes began to softly glow blue as he used his 'real' eyes to examine her body and energy. Sure enough, there was another soul tethered to hers. One of immense power. Because of the seating arrangements, only a few Elves were able to see his eyes change-and they were still too shocked to point it out in the middle of proceedings.

Amila turned and looked up at Michael with a worried but hopeful look on her little face, her large silvery eyes fixed on his expression. Waiting.

Catching the look, Owain exclaimed, "him! This human! You would pollute your House's bloodline by mating with a human? How where you even fertile? Had you already been whoring yourself out before you left? Answer me!"

"Careful, child. You know not of what you speak. There is more on the line than your wounded pride," Michael menaced Owain.

"I exercise my right to challenge! And I declare that only blood will cleanse this insult to my house!"

"You have no legal..." Lady Frey began.

"It's quite alright, Princess. I accept any challenge directed towards my House Gwynnaed. If Amila would approve, I would act as Champion in her name,"Michael said. Realizing he had yet to answer Amila's uncertainty, he turned to her and whispered, "this is an infinitely happy day, my love. Please, do not worry about upsetting me. I'm honored to be the father to our child. I may have many women in my life, and I may love them but you are one of the few that I am in with love, truly."

With tears in her eyes, Amila smiled hugely and wrapped her arms around his bare torso. Looking at Owain, who had stepped over to the seldom-used ceremonial challenge circle, she said, "you are wrong. I didn't lay with Michael until very recently and I was true to our agreement until my true heart set me free of that obligation."

"Oh? How were you fertile then?" Owain sneered. Elves were only fertile after their bodies adapted to a male partner. Usually this took at least a year, the fact that Michael had impregnated her in a matter of weeks spoke immensely to his vitality and fertility.

"Because my Michael is more may and virile than you'll ever be"

"Have it your way. Our people will never accept a half human bastard!" Owain growled.

"They won't have to," said Michael, "for I am not human". With that, Michael's irises glowed fiercely with blue light and his large black wings unfurled from his back to spread widely in a proud display of his Angelic heritage.

"It can't be!"

"A celestial!"

"Impossible!"

Various responses softly issued from the stunned group and Owain began to show his fear. Michael stepped forward, entering the circle meant that he had formally accepted Owain's challenge. The angry Elf just continued to look at him with eyes wide and mouth gaping before stuttering, "I... I..."

"Don't bother. I've formally accepted your challenge, there's no backing down now. Besides, you insulted one of the women I love as well as my unborn child. If you survive long enough, you'll learn that nobody threatens my family. Now, choose your weapon, you insect".

Owain struggled to get ahold of himself and turned towards the weapons rack beside the sparring circle. He quickly decided on a dragon forged Rapier instead of the standard Elven battle sword, which was like a Knight's longsword with a thinner blade, as it was often the choice for single combat. With a sword in his hand, some of Owain's confidence resurfaced, and with it his rage. Michael declined to select a sword off the weapon's rack and simply walked to the center of the circle and turned to the dais that Princess Frey's throne was on, waiting expectantly.

"You have not selected a weapon," the princess observed.

"My opponent does not rate my use of a weapon. If I do end up needing a sword, he was kind enough to bring one with him. Why? Is there a rule that says I cannot decline a weapon?"

"No... I guess. It's just that nobody has ever done so," the princess replied. "Alright, fighters. Take your mark. The contest begins when my scarf hits the floor," she said, holding a green silken scarf in one hand. After a pregnant moment, she dropped it.

Michael knew that Owain was said to be the best swordsman, or at least duelist, among all the Elves. His dragon forged sword was of very high quality, the only thing better would've been a sword of dragon steel; a dragon forged blade made from the iron in dragon bones. Still, it wouldn't help him. Besides his poisonous attitude and terrible words, Michael had been waiting for the first person to step out of line so that he could make an example of them and hopefully not have to harm any others repeating the process.

Owain didn't charge forward madly in his rage, to his credit. Instead, he advanced fluidly with artful footwork as he kept the blade of his blade from telegraphing his movements as it cut lazy circles in the air. Any other man would've been skewered through the throat by his sudden lunge, yet Michael simply moved around behind him with such speed that he seemed to simply disappear to Owain's perception while to the spectators he seemed to teleport. His lazy open handed slap to the head sent Owsin stumbling forward as his ears rang.

The Elf spun around using his body to hide the movement of his sword but only found air as Michael reversed his prior move and ended up back at his starting spot. Owain was enraged at the way the angel seemed so unconcerned as he sat there examining his fingernails with obvious boredom, the tip of one great wing scratching the back of his leg.

The angry Elf tried to vary his next attack with an upward slash but Michael simply leaned to the side as the blade passed harmlessly less than an inch from the surface of his exposed skin. He evaded the Elf's backhanded reverse in the same manner, this time swatting the Elf across the face disdainfully, leaving a red handprint plainly visible. Despite the lack of success, the fact that Michael had not yet attempted to truly strike back emboldened the Elf. That was about to change.

The Elf's next attempt was a downward slash, however this time his sword clattered to the ground right as his blow was about to land. It took him a second to realize that his sword hand was still wrapped around it's hilt and his wrist was now a smoldering stump that had been immediately cauterized by the glowing tip of Michael's left wing, the great heat preventing blood loss. Owain fell to his knees screaming as the pain finally caught up with him.

Michael wasn't done yet. Walking up to the kneeling Elf, the fingertips on Michael's right hand began to glow brightly with golden light. Reaching out to the downed elf, Michael ran his slightly parted fingers down Owain's face like a beast raking it's claws, burning deep furrowed into the screaming elf's face and permanently disfiguring his extremely handsome features.

Turning toward the stunned crowd, he said calmly, "I am an Archangelis, slayer of gods and Champion of Heaven. My forces have already killed thousands of the invaders, led by my hereditary enemies. I have personally slaughtered multiple demons and am currently the only individual here powerful enough to destroy even one on my own. You have have all day here safely behind your magical barrier, uncaring of all the other people that fall outside your lands and unwilling to help. That's fine, as it is your way. But now the invader us at your door, your barrier of Light will not protect your forests much longer and you must fight. If you think you can do so without me and my men, speak up now and I will leave. No?"

As if nothing had happened, he turned to the other representatives of House Morae and said, "if you hurry, you should be able to get that hand reattached. But he has been marked for the dishonor of putting his own needs ahead of those of his people, if anyone heals his face, I'll just do it again and everyone one can watch him whimper and scream through it once more. Your entire existence is at risk from a threat more ominous than any of you have ever seen. We should not be fighting amongst each other, especially for something as trivial as pride. Now go. And know that I have shown you mercy, as I was tempted to simply slaughter your contemptuous heir,"

Every member of House Morae breathed a sign of relief when Michael's foot set down outside of the circle. The angel immediately walked over to Amila and proceeded to lead her out of the chamber with his arm around her. As he retreated, he called out over his shoulder, "I'll expect your military leaders and strategists at sunset. I trust there will be no more unpleasantness."

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