War's End
One hour.
Kristel had spent an entire hour watching a duel she thought would be done in less than a minute. Somewhere in between, Lor had opened his Spatiera to retrieve some seats for the three of them. He even distributed some refreshments.
Katherine was done healing the Forest Jaws and was going around healing Vyndivalians while assuring them she only meant peace.
Urzic’s face was a conundrum to paint. His clenched fists belied the passiveness he was trying to exude and his widened eyes couldn’t hide their amazement from what he was witnessing.
Barring any possibilities that they were hiding another Forged Weapon, Hal and Ral had tried everything in their arsenal. That much Kristel was sure.
Hal, at one point, fed his meiyal into his Forged scythe, increasing it in size much like how Kristel did with her Dai-Kaimera. Frein easily jumped over the wide arc, spun away from a sickle follow up, and blocked a red lightning blast with his Siffera-empowered arms before dealing a strong body blow on the silver knight.
Trails of smoke began to rise from the Visitor, but he wasn’t bothered by it, still Gathering and Milling at his leisure every time the two knights stopped to catch their breaths.
On the other hand, the siblings’ armors were falling apart. Forged Armors could be repaired, but it was like Milling—the normal kind; not the Frein kind—spending time in meditation to mend the cracks and piece them all together, same with Forged Weapons.
“If the Princess fought instead, this would’ve been over a lot quicker,” Lor commented, sipping from a cold fruit-infused tea.
That much was true. Judging strictly based on what the two knights displayed, she could’ve easily jumped them and killed one, rendering their coordination useless. The fight wouldn’t even take a minute.
She noticed Flimeth glare at Lor, and immediately she understood.
“He’s not trying to win,” the felintine retorted. “He’s forcing them to surrender by showing them their difference in skill. Those two already used everything they could, but the Visitor’s only used Siffera so far. Learn to appreciate a master’s art!”
“An hour ago, you were deciding whether you should kill him,” Lor retaliated.
“So were you! Are you jealous?” Flimeth teased.
“Getting killed by you? Well…a little.”
“I mate for life, Lor. I’d rather you live as long as I do.”
“Read the atmosphere, you lovebirds,” Kristel interjected, fed up with all the flirting as if they were far away from danger. “While both of you have a point, this is still obviously a master showing his work. There’s a lot to learn from this.”
“Is that why you’re recording, Princess?” Lor pointed at the M.O.B.I.L.E. hovering beside Kristel.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I want to know if he’s really only using Siffera.”
“I did teach the guy,” Katherine said, appearing behind them. Lor immediately offered her a new seat and a fresh glass of tea. She took them with a silent thank you. “I only taught him some basic Meiyal Arts, the Perpetual-Layered Milling Form, and Siffera. I’d love a copy later, Kristel, if you would.”
Flimeth almost got knocked off her chair. “That absurd Milling was that form?” Her formality with the Lady of the Void utterly dispersed due to shock.
Kristel couldn’t blame her. As someone who constantly practiced the form herself, she knew the difficulty of simply completing the cycle regardless of efficiency and quality of yield was like climbing a mountain upside-down while carrying the weight of a fully grown yuma. In her mind, the investment wasn’t worth the payoff, but the sight before her was rapidly convincing her otherwise.
“Can you do that, too?” she asked Katherine.
“A bit cheating, but yeah.” She pointed at her floating meiyal core. “I assume Frill will have an easier time with it as well, but she still needs to practice.”
“What about his Siffera?” Flimeth asked.
“That’s a little complicated to explain, but it is the same Art we all use.”
“Wait,” Lor interrupted this time. “Am I right to assume that the Visitor has the same meiyal system as us?”
“Schrodie implanted it, but it’s technically the same.”
“That means there must be something special about it!” Flimeth said with as much excitement as a kid getting her birthday present. “That should explain why he’s so strong!”
“Well, he can talk to meiyal-attuned creatures,” Katherine replied, turning to the Forest Jaws. “Supposedly he shouldn’t be able to talk to Nightmares, but that one’s an exception and we want to know why, so we’re trying to save it.” Then she turned to the felintine. “Other than that, everything’s completely the same. What you see there is something you can achieve if you’re as obsessively motivated as him.”
“What do you mean obsessively motivated?” Kristel asked, but before anyone could respond, it hit her. “Oh.”
“Yeah…”
“What? What does it mean?” Flimeth, ever the oblivious.
“He’s the Visitor, Flimeth,” Lor reminded her. “He’ll be gone in one year.”
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“Oh…”
An awkward silence loomed over them until another clash from the duel called their attention. Frein lifted a helpless and exhausted Ral by the neck. The black knight’s armor was completely gone and he didn’t even have the strength to retaliate. Hal, the silver knight, struggled and crawled on the sands, trying to reach his brother.
“Well,” Katherine started, “it can’t be helped.”
Kristel looked at Katherine and saw something different. The Seeker’s focus was nowhere near what seemed to be the ending of a duel. She was looking straight at Frein, her eyes full of admiration and pride despite the ominous threat that the Visitor might kill someone in front of her.
The Princess had seen that expression many times before. She’d seen it from her father when her mother died. She’d seen it from her attendants’ mother when their father died. She’d seen it from people who were left by their loved ones after they fulfilled their missions.
Kristel, she was sure from looking at Katherine’s face, those words meant more than what they implied.
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Frein’s impression of the siblings had changed. These two were definitely worthy of their titles. Despite their exhaustion and helplessness, they refused to surrender. That was something to be admired.
He immediately released his grip as soon as Ral lost consciousness. Hal’s eyes flared at the way his brother dropped lifelessly on the ground, but the Visitor immediately stopped the silver knight from wasting his breath on an unnecessary outburst.
“He’s alive,” Frein said, raising a hand. “Don’t worry. I just need someone to voice out a surrender.”
Hal’s eyes calmed down in contrast to Frein’s expectations. It was a pleasant surprise since he was preparing a number of arguments and submission techniques to calm the silver knight down. Still, those eyes didn’t deflate into relief, but surged with determination instead.
“It doesn’t work that way, Frein Nivan.” He struggled on his feet, leaning on his scythe for balance. “Either we surrender or you kill us both. That’s how it works here.”
“Despite all you’ve seen me do, you still think I’m here to follow your rules?” Frein focused on his Siffera. The Meiyal Art wasn’t as simple as a physical enhancement. As his mentor, Schrodie, once said: “It enhances everything of who you are.”
That included not only his thought processes, his imagination, his strategy formulation, it also enhanced his will, his atmosphere, his charisma. Everything and anything—be it physical or superficial—Frein deemed to be part of himself, part of who he was, were amplified exponentially into measures he couldn’t even fathom.
He sent out his own measure of strength and Siffera delivered to everyone around him, allowing them to experience a taste of his capabilities. He sent his frustration outward, dampening their desire to fight. He sent his disappointment, challenging anyone who still had their own will to fight. And lastly, he sent out his anger, an illogical fury brought upon by the mere fact that no one tried to stop this fight even now.
Bodies with a will too weak to handle his convictions and beliefs fell to their knees and out of breath. Kristel’s companions were in full defense mode, on guard against his indiscriminate animosity. The Princess herself was stunned in utter shock with Katherine trying to comfort her.
Urzic still stood there, boiling with his own anger.
But Hal, something changed in him. There was realization in his eyes. Something, somewhere inside of him, had broken or snapped. Frein couldn’t determine what it was, but all he could read was an expression of acceptance in defeat and a sudden, irritated desire to turn a new leaf.
“I yield,” the silver knight said as if to confirm Frein’s assessment. “This duel is over. You win.” His weapons and armor dispersed into meiyal, reducing themselves into some sort of jewelry or accessory on his person. The Visitor in return reversed his Siffera from a raging storm of emotions into a sea of calm.
“You know the rules of our tradition, Lord Knight!” Urzic yelled from his castle.
“I don’t care!” Hal limped over to his brother while yelling at the top of his lungs. “This is your own goddamned loss, Urzic. We defend your kingdom from monsters! Just because we’re sharp enough for one task doesn’t mean you can brandish us willy-nilly for everything else! Moron!”
On his way, Hal ripped off a badge from his worn vest and discarded them with every bit of strength his frustration could muster. Frein picked it up, a silver badge depicting a quarter moon, it was the reduced form of the silver knight’s Forged Armor.
“You mind if I keep this?”
“That has a signature lock. You can’t use it,” Hal replied dryly, picking up his brother who had begun to regain consciousness.
Frein raised him an eyebrow.
“Yeah, right. You don’t care about rules. Fuck, I don’t care either. Do whatever the hell you want. Here.” Hal threw Ral’s badge as well; it was a black version of the other one.
“What happens to you now?”
“Thanks to you, we’re now exiled. Vyndival pretty much lost two great defenders. Ah, I know that look. Don’t give me that.” Hal accused Frein of disbelief, but the Visitor cared little to hide it. “Look, we’re Nightmare specialists, trained under the Order of the Void so we can keep the Nightmare Lands away from our borders in case the Order’s too busy with other matters. I’m not going to bother you with our history, but we’re very good at our job.”
“And now that you’re exiled, what happens to Vyndival?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. That’s his problem.” Hal pointed at the King who was shouting orders to mobilize the retreat and free the dragon. At least he was a man of his word.
“Where will you go?” Frein asked Hal. The silver knight sat his brother back on the ground, Forged some kind of container from a trinket on his belt and retrieved a canister of water.
“I’m not exactly obliged to answer you, you know?” Hal said as he assisted his brother for a drink.
“I kept you alive.”
“That was your choice, don’t feel too guilty about it.”
“Yeah, maybe I should’ve just killed you,” Frein said with obvious sarcasm. Hal grunted a laugh. “Well, it was a good match. Best of luck wherever you’re going. Thanks for these.” He stored the badges in his Spatiera and headed back to Katherine.
“Hey, Visitor,” Ral said in a coarse voice.
Frein turned.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
There was genuine gratefulness from the two brothers. At this, Frein felt relief, though it wasn’t exactly how he wanted it to turn out, his efforts weren’t for naught.
“No problem,” he replied, returning to Katherine with a lighter step.
“Welcome back,” the love of his life greeted him with open arms. He took her embrace and her lips immediately found his. A surge of power calmed down his aching meiyal system, cooling away the fatigue.
The guarded hostility coming from both of Kristel’s companions immediately squirmed into dropped jaws of shock due to Katherine’s public display of affection. The Princess herself was scratching her head, messing up her azure hair.
“Guys, back to Brymeia please.” She clapped her hands for attention. Katherine let Frein go almost reluctantly. “Thank you.”
“Sorry about taking over the whole situation, Princess,” the Visitor started with as much eagerness to move on. “I wanted to make certain of a few things as quickly as possible.”
“It’s fine. But I’m owed an explanation.”
Before Frein could respond, the chains binding Elizzel, the Nightmare dragon detached themselves, and the horns of retreat echoed from the Vyndivalian castle. Corresponding horns resounded as a domino effect, passing the message. Steam propelled from the giant infrastructure, and the engines started driving away as if mocking the dragon that had pulled it.
“I am ever so grateful to you, young Visitor,” Elizzel whispered through Frein’s mind.
“I think it’s better if I explain on the way back,” Frein answered the Princess before turning to the dragon. “And you, you have a lot of questions to answer later, so don’t go running away from me yet.”
“Ha! Unlike you, I have all the time to spare.”
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