Arthur Leywin
I drifted on eddies of thought, allowing time to myself in the aftermath of my battle with Uto. I lounged against Sylvie’s body, thinking happy thoughts for the barest moments. My bond’s rhythmic breathing added a therapeutic cast to my deepest subconscious.
I let myself think of what might be after the war. When all the violence and killing and grim darkness was gone.
Unbidden, an image of Tess popped into my mind. Older, perhaps, but still just as beautiful. And as I found my dream self staring into her shy, turquoise eyes, I found myself wanting to pull away. I couldn’t afford such thoughts. Couldn’t afford to let myself… To let myself want happiness.
But after the hellish battle I’d just gone through and the heart-stopping arrival of Scythe Seris, I felt that I had earned something like this. To remind myself exactly what I fought for.
The phantom image of Tess laughed at something I’d just said, her smile bright enough to light up the world. She glanced up at me shyly, her pale cheeks dusted with just a hint of red. She stepped closer to me, and suddenly, we were chest-to-chest. I felt my own heartbeat rise, and even within this dream, I could feel the heat of her own heart just near mine.
She stood on her toes, closing her eyes as she tilted her head upward. Her long lashes quivered as her blush deepened.
Can I have this? I thought as I felt my consciousness slipping away further, growing more and more immersed in the dream. Can I ever have this without becoming too selfish, willing to throw it all away for a simple kiss?
Just before our lips brushed, Tess was ripped away from me. I felt the sudden lack of warmth deep within my soul, feeling as if I had been thrust unclothed into a winter storm.
I faced a mirror image of myself. The former me stared back, an unnerving void within his eyes. King Grey’s emotions were banished, disposed of when they held him back.
What makes you think you can have this happiness–that you deserve this happiness? King Grey asked, iron in his voice honed over a hundred battles.
After what you did to them, do you think you can just forget and move on? Nico and Cecilia died because of your choices. Your selfishness tore your world apart once. What do you think will happen if you allow yourself such luxuries again?
Whether you’re King Grey or Arthur Leywin, you can only exist alone.
I spun aimlessly through the void as names bounced against my head.
Grey, or Arthur. Grey, or Arthur.
A dream of the future quickly devolved into a spiraling nightmare as images of my past life flashed before my eyes. Cecilia’s blood as it stained my hands, her dying body sliding down my sword. Her empty eyes as they quietly thanked me for a deed I’d never wanted to perform. And Nico’s own expression, wrought with deepest despair as I slew his fiance before his eyes.
“Arthur!”
I jolted awake with a gasp, clutching my chest as beads of sweat dripped down my face. I blinked a few times, Cecilia’s bloodstained face still popping up in my vision.
I looked up as I centered myself, banishing thoughts of my past life. Aya stood before me, but she looked like she’d been thrust through hell. Her white uniform was tattered and burned, and a deep laceration nearly seared through the bone on her shoulder. Her nose was clearly broken, a smattering of dark purple splotching around it. She was clutching her chest with one hand, and from her wheezing breath, I suspected she’d broken a few ribs.
My eyes widened as I took in my fellow Lance’s sorry state.
Her expression relaxed as I stared up at her, flickering to one of relief. “You wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard I shook you,” she said, her voice slightly nasal, “I was beginning to worry something had happened during the fight.”
“I’m just a bit tired,” I said, trying to reassure the elf. “But what about you, Aya? You look like you fought a volcano!”
Aya hesitated visibly, her body shuddering in a distinctly un-Aya way. My worries deepened as I saw something indecipherably foreign cross her face.
Fear.
“I encountered resistance on the cusp of executing the traitor,” she said after a minute. “I fought. And I lost.”
“The Asclepius Retainer,” I said lowly, suddenly certain of my words. “He was here, wasn’t he?”
Aya nodded slowly, her eyes darkening into misty pits.
During my fight with Uto, Dawn’s Balad–normally a translucent teal–had begun to shift toward orange-purple. It did that sometimes at random now, indicating some sort of presence of the phoenix Wren had fancied. But unlike the usual times, it had vibrated in my hand, nearly ripping me from my focus of combat.
At the time, I didn’t have the wherewithal to process this. I’d been fighting for my life and barely holding on against Uto’s inky black spike magic.
And Seris Vritra was here, I thought, feeling as my mood darkened. Why wouldn’t her subordinate, the one I saw coming through the portal with her?
I’d informed Aldir of what I’d witnessed in that cave. And for the first time ever, the three-eyed-asura had opened his normal eyes, focusing on me with utmost clarity as he demanded the full story. In the aftermath, the pantheon had told me to be exceptionally cautious around this Asclepius hybrid. While he was always serious, there was something distinctly stern about his warning this time.
“Then Olfred escaped,” I said emptily, cursing in my head. Likely alongside Seris Vritra. This new information complicated already muddy waters. If Seris was opposed to this war, then why did she have her subordinate rescue Olfred?
I looked with narrowed eyes at the quiet elven Lance in front of me. She was uncharacteristically silent, seeming lost in her own thoughts as she stared at Uto’s frozen body. I was barely past backlash myself, but I could tell that Aya wasn’t in a much better state than me. In fact, she seemed to be worse.
Did she lose her fight? I wondered. Was she spared in turn?
“We probably don’t have to worry about Mica being a traitor,” Aya said in a small voice. “But… but we need to go to the council. Immediately. You can’t afford to rest right now, Arthur, no matter how much you need it.”
There was an urgency in Aya’s words that made me pause. Of course, we needed to go to the council. If Olfred was still alive, that added huge implications for the dwarven participation in the war. But even now, I struggled to remain conscious. “Aya, I’m not sure I can even stand right now,” I said lamely. “Is it so urgent that it can’t wait a day?”
The elven Lance looked at me, her eyes shadowed by disheveled black hair. “Yes, Arthur,” she said weakly, “Because every single Lance might be compromised except for you.”
—
Aya refused to explain any further. I had been forced to leave Sylvie’s body behind as Triunion forces carted her to a nearby city, moving her through a teleportation gate to the flying castle’s medical ward. The elven Lance had insisted on going ahead with me, forcing her way through the flying castle to the Council room. Rahdeas and Uto had both been interned in the dungeons far below.
I stumbled after the Lance, barely able to move as my body protested from abuse. I’d conjured splints of ice along my legs to push me onward, bolstering my shaky legs against their protests. I wanted–no, I needed my rest desperately. But there was an undercurrent of deepening tension and raw, primal fear to Aya’s movements and words that added weight to her plea for a meeting.
Her seductive facade had long since evaporated. She’d set her nose, and it had indeed begun to heal, but not fast enough. Neither of us had even gotten the chance to get changed out of our battle-torn clothes.
Aya pushed open the Council doors. I blinked blearily as I stared inside, noticing the absence of Aldir and the dwarven representatives and Lances. The room had always felt overcrowded before, each voice and aura struggling to be heard.
Now, however, it was coated in a layer of dread. Lances Bairon and Varay stood behind King and Queen Glayder, and I saw Bairon’s expression of mute surprise as he saw Aya’s battered form. Varay’s ice-cold eyes only narrowed as she inspected the state of her fellow Lance. Compared to Phantasm, my aches seemed barely noteworthy.
I locked eyes with Virion as I stumbled into the room, giving him a tired nod. I allowed myself to slump into an offered chair, feeling as my core trembled from near backlash.
“Well, Lance Aya?” King Glayder snapped, unleashing his anger. “You’ve demanded this meeting on such short notice, not even giving yourself or Lance Arthur time to rest. Hell, we don’t even know the results of your mission to end the traitors!”
“This isn’t the time to be berating our greatest mages,” Alduin snapped back at the human king. “I have every faith in my Lances that they’d return with important news.”
Merial, Alduin’s wife, gave me a sympathetic look as I melted into the chair. “We’ve heard a bare few reports–it seems Lance Godspell has managed to incapacitate a Retainer for questioning.” She turned to Aya. Though Lances Bairon and Varay stood behind their respective artifact holders, Aya, for some reason, stood near me. “Is that why this meeting has been called? I expect that your mission to eliminate the traitor, Lance Balrog, was successful.”
I winced, and I saw as Aya wilted at my side. I felt a pang of pity for the Lance, but I didn’t even have the strength to pat her on the back.
“There were complications,” Aya said, her voice surprisingly even as she spoke. “The traitor is still active, but–”
“So you’re saying,” Blaine interrupted, needing an outlet for his anger, “That you failed in your sole mission?”
“Blaine,” Virion snapped, the old man’s temper rising sharply in a way I rarely saw, “Compose yourself. Let her tell her story first before we make rash judgments.”
All eyes turned between the two before Gramps looked at Aya. “And I’m guessing these complications are why we are here in the council today?”
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Aya looked down at me nervously for some reason I couldn’t understand, before looking back up at Virion. “Yes, Elder Virion,” she said, struggling to bow slightly due to her wounds. “I was close to executing the traitor before interference from another party allowed his escape.”
“And who was this other party?” Priscilla asked, the dark-haired former queen of Sapin leaning forward with a crease of worry on her brow.
“The Asclepius Retainer,” Aya said slowly. “He stepped in before I could finish my mission. He appeared exactly as Lance Arthur explained, but his abilities were nothing to dismiss, either.”
I listened with rapt attention as Aya explained her fight with the Asclepius hybrid in detail. I hadn’t heard the true details of her fight until now, and I found myself deeply uncertain from what I heard.
Apparently, this Retainer was able to move just as fast as the elven Lance, and his senses were mostly unimpeded by her mist. It appeared that this Alacryan was practically the perfect counter for Aya in every way, and her state showed it.
The other Lances watched Aya with differing expressions. Bairon’s face held quiet contempt in the face of her explanation, while Varay seemed more reserved. The rest of the council hung on Aya’s every word, just as I did.
“But still, I had nearly won the battle,” Aya said with a rasp, her lungs fighting against her broken ribs. “Even after he left me in that crater, I was poised to drive my arm into his neck. His back was turned. His guard was down. But…”
She petered off, closing her eyes. The woman shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as if she were cold. There was a tense, awkward silence as the woman broke down slightly, some horrid memory replaying in her mind.
What did he do, I thought with growing horror, to cause such fear in the Lance?
“Until?” Virion prodded, his own sharp, weathered features cast from stone.
“He held out his hand,” Aya said, “And I felt the squeeze of my Lance artifact around my heart. Like the jaws of a predator, I felt the restrictions–that should only activate when I threaten the life of my artifact holder–I felt them begin to activate.” She paused, swallowing slightly. “The Retainer said that the artifacts were crafted by an Asclepius, and… and a weakness.”
The room was silent as a grave as the elven woman’s words sifted through the air. For a second, I thought I must have misheard. I looked around at the similarly shocked members of the council.
“There’s no way,” Blaine said, his voice a rasp. “It was a trick of some kind. An illusion that assaulted your mind! You must be mistaken, Lance Aya!”
Surprisingly, it was Merial who spoke up next, in slow, deliberate words. “Aya, you might not be in your best state of mind right now. You’re clearly not well. Are you absolutely sure–”
Alduin Eralith’s hand lethargically clasped his wife’s shoulder, stilling her into silence. She looked at him, unsure.
Councilman Alduin’s face was white as a sheet, his wide eyes focused on his Lance.
Even in my exhausted haze, I recognized what that look meant. “She’s not mistaken, is she?” I intoned somberly, feeling myself sink further into my seat.
“I... I felt something a few hours ago,” Alduin said, his hand clutching his chest. “I thought it might have been an oncoming heart attack, so I submitted myself to the emitters on standby just in case. But they found nothing wrong. I thought it was just a fluke, but now–”
The room erupted into chaos as half a dozen different conversations began, talking over each other as they struggled to be heard. Blaine cursed fiery words that even made my head swim. Priscilla glared at the table, as if she could set it ablaze with just a look.
Merial’s hand covered her mouth in an expression of mute shock, muttering something to herself.
Through it all, I cursed internally. I gritted my teeth as this final bit of information came to life, threatening to derail my thoughts further.
“Where is Aldir?” I asked aloud desperately, fighting to be heard. “He has the dwarven artifacts, and he knows about their origin!” The three-eyed asura knew more about the Lance artifacts than we did. If there was something wrong with them, or a way to fix this, then he was the person to talk to.
“He hasn’t been answering the communication artifact he left me,” Virion said in reply as the people around us quieted down. “But if there’s something to be done about these artifacts, then I don’t know who else to talk to.”
Lance Bairon looked at Alduin incredulously. “You can’t be serious,” he spat. “If this Asclepius Retainer can mess with the Lance artifacts, then you’re telling me every one of us is useless against him?” His head whipped to Aya, a strange sort of anger there. “You’re lying to us. You have to be. There’s no way we could be so compromised–”
“Not all of us,” a voice, cold as ice said. Varay spoke for the first time, her dark eyes locking onto mine. “One of us isn’t bound to an artifact. That’s why you brought him here, isn’t it, Aya? Even though he can barely stay awake?”
Bairon looked at Varay with disbelief, while Virion was the first to catch on. “Arthur hasn’t used a Lance artifact!” he said, snapping a fist into his open palm. “It doesn’t seem everything is all doom and gloom today. Even if most of our Lances are susceptible to this Asclepius, Arthur isn’t!” the commander of the Triunion said, looking at me.
I felt the weight of the entire Council’s stares like an iron blanket crushing my lungs. I was so, so tired. I needed to rest, and my traitorous eyelids fought me at every turn. I gnashed my teeth, seeing the only outcome possible.
“Maybe what Lance Aya experienced was some sort of fluke,” I said, my voice sounding tired and worn, “But we can’t afford to risk that, can we?”
“No, we can’t,” Gramps agreed gravely. “If this part-phoenix has the ability to activate the Lance artifacts’ countermeasures against the artifact holder’s will, then we risk sending our greatest warriors on suicide missions any time they face this Retainer. Except for you, Arthur.”
“Hold on,” King Glayder interrupted, his eyes narrowing. His deep red mane of hair almost looked like true fire when it coincided with his burning gaze. “If this Retainer was able to toy with the Lance artifact’s tether, then why is Aya still alive? He could have killed her on the spot.”
Aya shifted to look at the former king, and for a moment her stern aura returned as she faced him down. “All throughout the fight, Councilman Glayder,” she said with restrained respect, “The Retainer continued to urge me to leave.” She paused. “And he was holding back, all throughout our battle,” she reluctantly admitted. “He spared me at the end. He told me that this war was asura versus asura, and that we ‘lessers’ were afterthoughts. That was all he told me, even as he left me alive in a crater.”
For all their political expertise, it seemed this response was not what the Council members were expecting. Blaine sat back in his chair, a deep scowl on his face. Priscilla massaged her husband’s arm absently, seeming lost in thought herself. Alduin and Merial weren’t in a much better state.
But my thoughts immediately went to Seris Vritra as she snapped Uto’s horns.
“Get stronger,” the pearl-haired Scythe had said. “For both of our sakes.”
Seris and the Asclepius Retainer were certainly direct master and subordinate. And it seemed that Seris’ Retainer shared her goals, at least in some regard.
But if Seris is on our side, I thought, Then why go out of her way to save Olfred? What game is she playing?
But no matter how much I thought, I knew I wouldn’t be able to figure out this puzzle. I only had a few pieces of the puzzle.
“Well,” Virion said with a huff, his war-aged face seeming to droop more. “There is some bright news in this entire debacle. Arthur defeated another Retainer, didn’t he? Arthur, why don’t you tell us your story? I’ve heard a few reports, but nothing detailed.”
I forced myself to sit straight at Gramps’ reassuring tone and the attention of the Council. Through tired lips, I explained my fight against Uto–though I left out Seris’ intervention. At Blaine’s skepticism, I concocted a story of shattering his horns, using Lance Alea’s death as the necessary hint to discover such a weakness.
I didn’t tell anyone about Seris, not even Virion. The mood in the Council chamber was already extremely low after Aya’s reveal about the Asclepius Retainer and the reveal that the dwarves–or at least a faction of them–were in direct concert with the Alacryans. And I also wasn’t even certain of Seris’ true goals.
Though perhaps I should tell Virion after this, I thought. There was a consistency to the Scythe’s actions. Allowing me to leave the cavern in Darv, shattering Uto’s mana core, and then this subordinate of hers leaving Aya alive when he had her dead to rights.
In a span of time that felt far too long, the meeting was finally adjourned, set to meet once more in a few hours to discuss countermeasures against the Asclepius Retainer.
I hobbled from the room, my thoughts running slow as tar. I wanted nothing more than to find a bed, lay down, and sleep for an age. My mana core didn’t ache quite as bad as it had directly in the aftermath of my fight, but there was still an angry twinge whenever I moved in a certain way.
Great job, Arthur, I chided myself internally. Great and powerful Lance you are, unable to catch a wink of beauty sleep.
Amidst all the recurring dreams of my past life, I found myself embracing another memory–one of another Council, far, far away–as I limped down the halls. I saw the Council of Etharia as they bickered about what to do regarding Trayden’s breach of our treaty by Lady Vera.
The horrid ambassador–who had once been my tutor and master–was detained in our deepest cells. She’d used her position in the King’s Crown Tournament to try and abduct the Legacy, but had failed and found herself quickly captured. I had barely become King then, and I’d been reeling from the death of Cecilia and the broken gaze of my best friend, Nico. My quest for vengeance against those who dared to hurt Headmaster Wilbeck had never had a clearer lead, but… but it was my master. The one who had trained me to fight.
And I remembered Marlorn, the conniving old bat, sensing the emotional distress I found myself in. He saw a broken, impressionable young man, a King who was more of a Pawn. And it had been his suggestion that led to what happened next.
I felt an arm wrap itself under my shoulder, propping me up. Thoughts of my previous life vanished as I turned in surprise, noticing Virion there as he helped support my exhausted body. “You’ve got to stop finding yourself so tired, brat,” he said with a smirk, momentarily reminding me of his bright demeanor during my childhood in Elenoir. “I was able to sneak up on you with ease. I know I trained you better than that.”
I snorted as Gramps helped me along the hallway toward my room. “I’ll have you know it’s only your training that got me so tired, old man,” I quipped with a smirk. “Maybe if I unlearned every bit of mana manipulation tutoring you gave me, I’d be the most powerful Lance already.”
“Well, it seems you don’t need my help getting to your rooms,” Virion said nonchalantly, playfully threatening to leave. “I’m sure you can learn some sort of masterful technique to allow yourself to crawl there.”
I cinched my hand around the former elven king’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, Gramps,” I said loftily. “I am a delicate man. I need tending to constantly for my great services to the continent.”
My joking tone seemed to miss its mark as Virion’s expression fell. “In this next Council meeting, it's likely going to be decided to keep you constantly on standby to respond to any appearance of this Asclepius Retainer,” he said seriously. “Were the results of our trap against Rahdeas and Olfred more successful, perhaps I could have afforded to offer you a reward publicly. But it seems you’ll only be assigned more work.”
I ground my teeth, feeling the weight on my shoulders redouble. My new life was so different from my old one. I had people I cared for again; people I needed to protect. But I constantly found myself facing enemies stronger than I could manage. It seemed that every step forward I took, my foes took three. How could I protect Mom? Dad? Or Ellie, if I couldn’t even beat a Retainer?
I felt a phantom resurgence of King Grey in the back of my mind, whispering dark thoughts. You can only have the strength you need, he said, devoid of any emotion, If you set yourself alone. That is the true path to strength. The way to seize all you need.
My jaw creaked audibly as I shoved King Grey back into the depths of my mind. I feared becoming him once more. Feared it so, so much. But there was one thing he was right about.
“I’m not strong enough,” I said angrily. I took a deep breath, then looked meaningfully at my childhood mentor. “I didn’t defeat Retainer Uto,” I admitted, then started to tell the truth.
Virion was silent as I quietly explained my interaction with Scythe Seris and the true result of our battle. I didn’t want to burden the old man, but in concert with the Asclepius Retainer’s words to the defeated Aya, I felt it was necessary to do so. Too many wars and battles were lost due to a lack of information, and this felt crucial.
We reached my rooms before long, and Virion stooped in silence as he supported me. Admitting my lack of power and failure to even damage Uto made something deep in my gut clench, like scratching at an open wound. But Gramps didn’t judge.
“There might be something I can do soon,” Virion said slowly. “To help you improve in your magic. But you’ve given me a lot to think about, brat,” he said, clapping me on the back.
“I still don’t know what this ‘Seris Vritra’s’ goals are,” I said tiredly, feeling my eyelids droop. “But I’m absolutely certain both she and the Asclepius Retainer spotted me at the cavern in Darv, yet I was allowed to go free anyways.”
Virion rubbed at his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “We don’t have enough information,” he cursed. “Brat, keep this knowledge to yourself until we’re more sure of things. Hopefully, with Retainer Uto captured we can get some more information out of this.”
I nodded somberly. “Don’t worry about it, Gramps,” I said, my words drifting off. “You’ll figure it out.”
Virion chuckled as he ushered me into my room. I barely registered that my bed was in front of me before I collapsed face-first onto the sheets, and I was out like a light.