Edelgard
Unease and pain permeated the sleep of the once-general, once-idealist woman. It was a restless, dull sleep, needed only by her bodily limits, and inescapable because of it. But it did its job, and as her wounds hastened to knit themselves, and bones to realign, her consciousness began to stir.
She felt herself... floating. Moving? Her limbs twitched in an involuntary movement, but shortly, something shifted, and her weight stopped drifting. Cold stone carved by powerful hands rested beneath her body, and the sensation of the surrounding air expanded, as if she had been drawn into a great and windy pit. There was the silent edge of something reverent in this atmosphere, and... a presence hanging over her.
Her eyes snapped open.
Shamefully, she swung the weapon still held tightly in her hand on murderous instinct, disregarding decades of nurtured control. Were anything there, it would have been split in two and torn into strands from force that made the air scream with its passage. Instead, she struck at nothing and grew stilled with alarm.
Edelgard's eyes darted around in search of a target, uncertain of the scenery around her. She leaped from the stone to her feet and scanned the area, fury fresh at the monster who mocked her and its cadre of abominations. Where were they? Where had they brought her?
Edelgard was motivated the instant she woke, yet even for her, the space was difficult to grasp.
The object she had found herself sleeping on (and waking from) was a throne. A crudely simple chair, but one built in a manner unmistakeable to her, who once sought a lord. It stood atop a circular podium of short steps, a small way from the floor. All of the ground she stood upon, she noticed, was limestone, as well as the icons that ringed the small hall. Each of them an engraved epitaph and the statue of a great figure, some bearing weapons, some tall in their splendor... all of them heroes. And behind these monuments, pillars joined by walls rose. And rose. And rose, til she could not see a ceiling past the clouds.
What manner of construction was this? Her boot stomped on the pale stone, as a bellow erupted from her throat. "Bastards. Where is this? Show yourself!"
