For The Republic, Part 4

**"GREETINGS"**, said Lt. Apollo, hand outstretched. Before him was a boarded up building, a bout seven stories tall. The door itself was destroyed, covered in bricks that had been knocked down from the walls around it. But beneath it and to the side, the door to a large cellar was open. Meeting Lt. Apollo was a blond man with a thick moustache and sideburns, dressed in the priestly raiment that showed his faith in the Night-Keeper.

"Well met to you, and to your... Friends?" Tovis said, looking at the strange lot before him. Apollo, tall and broad, he had met once before; in many ways the splitting image of his Formis-Brother Factus. Behind him was an ordinary looking elven man, though one who carried himself well, and seemed so familiar. But past him, stood two figures, unmoving save for the golden-faced ones incessant clicking of his fingers together, and the constant swaying of the others head, gazing towards the perimeter of the building, but occasionally locking eyes on him. Mavis stepped forward.

"You'll have to forgive them, er, Tovis, isnt it? Tovis Blacktree. My name is Mavis Lofthaven, it is a pleasure. We've come to protect you and the rest of the council." Mavis said with a confidence that reassured both Tovis, and those behind him in the cellar. Looking down at those who remained, Apollo cocked his head to the side.

**"WHERE IS CHIEF MAGISTER THORNE? IS HE SAFE?"** he asked. Tovis looked to the side, dismayed.

"I don't know. He told us to wait here; said something about his sins. I asked him if he wanted to pray, but he told me I didnt have the right god. He did give me this, though."

Apollo watched as Tovis pulled out an envelope, simply addressed to "The Archon". He took it, handing it to Mavis for safekeeping. He was the only one among them with pockets.

**"UNDERSTOOD. THIS POSITION IS NOT SECURE; THIS BUILDING IS ALMOST IN RUINS, AND COULD COLLAPSE AT ANY MOMENT. WE SHOULD FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO-"**

The Formis was interrupted by a screaming, wild charge from across the street. Nearly two hundred soldiers raced towards the Lieutenant and his cohorts.

"Wait! I am getting a message! It is Lieutenant Apollo!" rasped a Dragonborn, scales the color of red-earth. "He needs our aid! He is under attack!"

Le'Kel and his companions scrambled together quickly, with one among them, Thrawne, opening a gateway. This was dangerous, especially after his last excursion within, but the Divine Sanctuary was the fastest way to travel. Racing through the ever-changing pathways, and quickly exiting another portal mere moments after entering, the four of them were shocked at what they saw. Mavis lay battered and bruised, barely breathing, and only kept alive thanks to Tovis, whose hands were placed on his chest, glowing with a healing light. Around him were over dozens of bodies, some charred, others pierced with magical force, or consumed by stone. Across the street, Lieutenant Apollo was kneeled on the ground, orange electricity crackling off his body, an arm completely ruined and destroyed, only silvery wires draping from his shoulder. Beneath him lay Erebus, covered in dozens of cuts, body broken by mace, axe, and sword. Apollo rested his hand on the other Formis' chest, the armor separating quickly. From him, Apollo pulled out a small metal sphere, still aglow with light. Never before had he seen a brother fall in battle. He hoped he never would again.

Beatrice looked on in horror, as the third and final Formis, Deimos, dagger in hand, approached the bodies of soldiers strewn across the street. Marred they were, bloody and broken, pierced with blade, pulverized with the might of Devotion, or battered with metal fist. And one by one, Beatrice saw the golden-masked Formis kneel down to each of them, shoving his dagger in each of their throats. He muttered under his breath, if he had such a thing.

"One for two-hundred, one for two-hundred... Not enough! Not enough! A brother! A brother! A brother! You! Killed! A! Brother!", his voice picked up with anger as he spoke, eventually shouting, stabbing another man with each word. Some of the soldiers, injured but still alive, tried to crawl away, but he grabbed them by their necks and forced them to look him in the eye as he took their lives, one after another. Beatrice called out to him.

"Stop this, Formis! Stop this right now!" she pleaded. Some of those men were soldiers of the Republic, only following their orders, however misguided.

Deimos ignored her cries, still chanting. "A Brother! A Brother! Not enough! Not enough!"

"I SAID STOP!" Beatrice roared, the ground shaking beneath her. Her eyes flared up with white light as she walked towards him, ascending into the air. Deimos sheathed his dagger, and looked up to her.

"You do not order me, woman! No man or woman on this plane can give me orders! I do not care whose 'wife' you are, you wench! And I care not for the lives of these pitiful excuses for 'men'! They killed my brother, and I will kill as many as needed to make up for that death! His life was worth at least five hundred of theirs!"

Apollo stood, clutching Erebus' Eidolon Core in his hand. He held it to his head for a moment, before handing it to Le'Kel, who fastidiously placed it into his satchel. The bronze-clad Formis approached Deimos, quickly grabbing him by the throat, and slamming him to the ground. Deimos chuckled, something none here had ever seen a Formis do.

"You dare strike me, fool? The Emperor will kill you for such a crime!" he cackled, smug and confident in his words.

**"HE MAY TRY."** Apollo answered, stomping his fist onto Deimos' chest, leaning forward, and pummeling him with his one remaining arm, one strike after another, and with each blow, Apollo counted, until he reached two hundred. Precisely at two hundred, he raised himself up, stepping away from Deimos. **"IF I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN... 'BROTHER'. WE WILL TRULY SEE JUST HOW MUCH *YOUR* LIFE IS WORTH. BE GONE."**

The black-clad Formis affixed his golden mask back into place, scrambling to get onto his feet. Quickly, he ran off, muttering and cursing all the way. Apollo turned to Le'Kel and his Strike Team. Thrawne had moved to help attend Mavis and some of the injured government officials inside the ruined building, and now only the earthen-skinned Dragonborn, his kinsman, clad in white armor and with black spikes on his head, and Beatrice, whose skin seemed to bear a platinum sheen to it, eyes still glowing like a great beast, stood before him. The other Dragonborn shook his head.

"I am sorry. We were not quick enough."

"**YOU CAME AS FAST AS YOU COULD. I THANK YOU. ALL OF YOU. I... REGRET THAT YOU HAD TO SEE WHAT JUST HAPPENED."**

"Your brother. Were you close?" Beatrice asked, looking down to the Formis' body with sorrowful eyes.

**"NO. WE WERE NOT CLOSE. BUT HE WAS STILL A BROTHER. AND I WILL MISS HIM. BUT THE LIVES OF THESE WARRIORS WERE WORTH JUST AS MUCH AS HIS."** Apollo uttered, before turning to Le'Kel.

**"LE'KEL. IN TIMES LONG PASSED, OUR PEOPLE WAGED WAR ON EACHOTHER, ALL FOR THE SAKE OF PEOPLE LIKE THE ONES THAT KILLED MY BROTHER. BUT YOU AND YOUR KIND HAVE COME TO AID ME IN M TIME OF NEED. THANK YOU. I UNDERSTAND NOW THAT IT DOES NOT MATTER WHO YOU ARE FIGHTING: BUT WHAT YOU ARE FIGHTING FOR. OR RATHER, WHO YOU ARE FIGHTING FOR."**

Apollo extended his remaining hand, and Le'Kel took it, shaking it with vigor.

"Come, friend! We must get you fixed up, quickly! You would not want to miss the rest of the battle because of a missing arm, would you?" the Dragonborn hissed, half joking. Apollo nodded.

**"AFFIRMATIVE."**