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As soon as he got the chance, Nils scooted away from the woman and covered his ears to try and block out the scream. He breathed heavily, now not having a foot to the stomach, and trembled slightly.
So I was right! The boy thought, eyes focused on her.

Once she had appeared to calm down, he stood back up on his feet and slowly approached her. He looked at her with concern. "A-are you alright? What happened there?" Certainly, being trapped in a world with a morph who previously wanted to get rid of him and his friends was pretty high on the danger scale. And if the morph regained her memories, then, well... there could be a good amount of trouble.
And yet, he couldn't help but still feel concern.

(( I don't know... D: ))

The slap certainly startled Nils. He fell straight on his butt with an "oomph!". He cradled his now-hot cheek with one hand, wiping away a tear that had slipped with the other. He could only stare as she started to walk away.

Then, the soul started to follow her, and he didn't know what to do. Going to try to help would have been foolish, for he didn't know what the results would turn out to be. The soul could take him over, he could be sent off... all the bad things that could happen seemed to swarm Nils' mind.

... I'm done with taking huge risks. Nils thought sadly, staring at the red gash on his body. His only other option was simply to just wait and see what would happen. If something happened, he was a good enough distance to (hopefully) avoid anything that could happen. And if nothing happened... well, then nothing happened.
And so, he waited.

Soon, the Fire tome Akihi "borrowed" was down to a few uses. With a small frown, he tucked the book under his arm, pulling out his Heal staff. The sage began to wander the battlefield again, blocking the occasional attempt at his life with his staff and quickly muttering the spell for Fire. He was starting to feel cold, but he shook it off quickly, focusing on moving his feet forward, hopefully towards someone that needed his help.

And, well, it did. He noticed the figure, sword sticking out of his gut. In a normal situation, he would have winced. However, this is a battlefield. Akihi had to remind himself. He approached the figure, a boy with a green cloak, and on closer inspection, he appeared to be dead. Am I... too late?

Hesitantly, he dropped his tome and checked for a pulse. "Please... don't be dead..." The sage muttered.
He sighed lightly in relief, feeling the pulse under his fingertips. "Thank goodness..." He pulled out his Heal staff, focusing only on healing the boy in front of him. Wounds slowly started to close, but the sword still posed as an issue. He stopped, not wanting to completely heal him yet. ... If I'm going to do much more, I'm going to have to remove that sword, and quick.

Doubt and worry suddenly hit his mind. Wait! What if he's an enemy? As soon as he wakes up, he could try to kill me... He shook his head.
... If that happens, then it happens. I can't ignore this... Keeping a grip on his Heal staff, he wrapped one hand around the hilt of the sword.

... You've got one chance, Akihi. Better do this right. Carefully but quickly, he began to pull the weapon out, being as careful as possible to not cause any more damage to the body. Finally, the sword came out and was immediately discarded in the snow beside him. Blood began to run out of the wound, now that nothing was there to actually stop the flow. Quickly, he got a firm grip on his Heal staff and focused once more on the boy. Blue light focused at the stomach area, the wound slowly but surely beginning to close. He stayed in his position, eyes closed, kneeling besides the boy, peeking occasionally to see how the healing was going.

Finally, the blood stopped to flow, and he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness..." He shrugged off his robe, draping it over the unconscious boy, before standing back up and brushing off his knees. He picked up the discarded tome, looking around briefly before sighing yet again.
... I guess I should stick around. I mean, he’s not awake yet... Don’t want him getting stabbed after he just got healed.
And so, there he stayed.

A whisper. She heard a whisper coming from the soul that wrapped around her. She would find it annoying, but there was something familiar in that tone. A familiar that was lurking inside her mind.

She wasn't sure whether it was someone she knew or not. However, she could tell that this soul was familiar to her. But who or what was it?

"What was it you're saying?" She questioned monotone. Although it appeared to look like she was talking to herself, she could hear the whispering words from the soul. A soul that had no eyes, mouth, or any figure of a human being. However, the presence of the soul was starting to become familiar.

"Is that so?" She questioned again. Her expression and her tone didn't change, but she continued to listen. What the soul spoke to her was something interesting. Something that made her insides tingling with excitement.

"..... Heh." She smiled out a sinister smirk. "Well, that is truly interesting."

(( Sorry for the fail of a post. D: ))

Nils remained completely still, just watching the woman in silence. The direction of the conversation... didn't seem so good to him.
Then again, I could be paranoid. He thought to himself, trying to distract himself by fiddling with his scarf, rubbing the familiar yellow fabric between two fingers. It was a nervous habit he had, something he did when he felt completely alone and threatened. His sense of threat wasn't reacting, but then again... lately, the reaction has been a bit off.

Is something going to happen to me? He asked himself, fingers gripping the scarf. He didn't want to disappear, to die.
... Well, die again. He corrected himself mentally.

Nils flinched slightly as the woman placed her hands on him. The sudden change in demeanor scared him, if only a bit, but yet... it felt comforting in a way. The woman, who was previously rough and terrifying... was now talking sweetly to him, almost like a mother would to a child. It was... a nice change.

He placed a hand over his cheek as she stared up at the woman with curiousity. "A way out?" He asked hopefully. The boy then smiled and nodded, not waiting for a response to his question. "I'd love to hear what you remembered."

If he had seen the smirking from before, the fingers crossed out of his range of vision, or the hidden sadism behind the seemingly harmless smile, he would have been more guarded, more hesitant, more wary.
Instead, he continued to look at the woman with an innocent, and naive, smile.

Siegell turned to face Amelia, and the light of the setting sun turned his white mask into a glowing red-orange, as if reflecting the flames in the castle yard. It leant to his face a look that was simultaneously soft and sinister, which it was. "Of course I do, Amelia." He stepped close to her, taking her clenched hands in both of his. "I want this land to be great... and I know that I can make it so. You've been sheltered here at the castle, but bandits rule much of the country. I intend to fix that, Amelia. I promise." He lifted her hands and gently kissed her fingers, then closed his eyes as he released them.

"I promise," he repeated, slowly stepping back. "It's time for me to take the castle, once and for all. I will return for you, and then... it will be time to rebuild, and take Learania into an age of perfection..." He turned slowly; Shastah was already lying down so that Siegell could climb up. The Wyvern Lord swung himself into the saddle and squeezed with his boots lightly, and with a powerful whoosh! Shastah took to the sky, powering up toward the circling battalion of Wyvern Riders.

Doctor Vastka stepped up beside Amelia, his barren head ablaze in the setting sun, with light glinting off the darkened spectacles he wore when outside. "He is a brilliant fool, you know. One of those rare men with the cunning to bring their delusions to life." A snarly smile spread on Vastka's lips, exposing teeth that looked a bit too sharp for his face. He looked like something horrible but human-shaped had dragged ill-fitting human skin onto himself and wrapped up to hide his true nature. "Let us hope that he does not fly into winds he cannot control," he added softly, and then he turned to shuffle away, back toward his tent. "Now, come come, my dear, I must take your measurements. He will want your new armor made in short order, I expect."

The wyvern riders all turned their heads as their leader approached and flew above them, and every head swung up for a glimpse of him.

Many leaders would have made a speech to rally the troops at this point. It would have been dramatic. But that was typically for armies who didn't think they stood a chance.

This was an army built to conquer. They didn't lose. They didn't even win. They simply slaughtered all they met. No words were necessary. Siegell simply raised his glaive and let it catch the orange light of the sun.

Fifty wyverns tensed along with their riders, digging their claws into the sickly flesh of their terrible cargo.

The glaive swung, trailing a line like fire across the eyes of anyone who watched it. The shining tip pointed at the castle, and the battalion began their bloody mission.

They streamed in formations over the castle, roaring as they delivered their payloads. Squad by squad, they dropped corpses onto the castle grounds. It was not in itself a weapon, but rather terrible, deadly crowd control. The pneumonic plague had struck a town recently, and Siegell had taken it as a stroke of good luck. The corpses had been dead less than a day, and were still ripe with the bacteria. These diseased corpses fell, and it became very quickly clear what was happening down on the ground.

Mass hysteria followed as the remaining forces in the castle began to flee, struggling and trampling one another in the chaos caused by the lack of generals and fear of the gruesome death that awaited nearly anyone caught in the grip of the Black Death. Siegell's army cut a swath through the chaos and charged into the castle itself, pouring down the halls, making prisoners of the remaining servants and killing any guards they encountered.

The courtyard was empty in under an hour. Even the mighty Hawk King and the flying units he commanded had been forced to retreat, to fight again another day.

Siegell smiled as Shastah wheeled down to the base camp. The signal flares of victory were flying above the castle, the corpses were already being hauled away on carts, and the fires smothered with dirt and water.

The masked madman climbed down, laughing as he approached Amelia, his arms spread wide. "Haha, they should have known better, shouldn't they?" His arms slowly wrapped around her and he smiled, standing with her in the torchlight that illuminated the camp in the darkness. "You knew better... I only wish they had your wisdom. It was such a waste to kill them..." He shook his head. "But tonight, we drink!" He grinned and turned. "Pack up, men! Time to move into the city!" A chorus of hurrahs echoed throughout camp, and as Siegell and Amelia climbed onto Shastah's back and left for the castle, preparations were made to march on and take the city at last.