Arthur Leywin

My body ached as I sat myself down on my bed. My clothes stuck to my body in uncomfortable patches, the results of the day’s training making themselves known.

I took a few steadying breaths, allowing myself to settle back into my natural rhythm. Behind me, my window of the castle looked out on the sprawling expanse of the beast glades. A few rays of moonlight stretched through the opening, the touch of silver light on my back doing little to soothe my pains.

In the wake of my battle with Uto, Virion had assigned me a strict training regimen in the castle. As I was on call to respond to any sightings of the Asclepius Retainer, increasing my strength had become a paramount focus. Every day, I battled with Elders Camus, Buhnd, and Hester, with assistance from Kathyln Glayder. When they became exhausted, I was tasked to spar with whatever Lance was present, be that Varay or Bairon.

Perhaps the only thing I’d enjoyed this past week or so was the satisfying feeling of my fist grinding across Bairon’s face. But I’d been forced to do nothing but train for every waking moment of my day.

I shut my eyes tight. I’d wanted to spend more time with Ellie in the castle now that I’d basically been permanently stationed here, but I couldn’t afford to with my training. My current predicament reminded me painfully of my past life. Where I’d engrossed myself so much in training with Lady Vera that I neglected my friends.

By immersing myself in my quest for revenge, I’d forsaken the only two people in my life who truly mattered. Nico and Cecilia were swallowed by my selfishness, their emotions fuel for the fire of my vengeance.

“You can’t think like that,” Sylvie pushed, her white fox form hopping up onto the bed beside me. “This life isn’t like your past one. You’re not King Grey. You’re Arthur. My papa.”

I chuckled, tiredly scratching Sylvie’s head. The warmth she sent over our bond as I did so was reassuring, but I found myself questioning how true her words were.

Now, as in my life as King Grey, I found myself being forced to dedicate my mind and body to a cause bigger than I. The only difference now was that I had people I cared for. People I loved and would give anything to protect.

My heart clenched painfully as I thought of my mother and father, so determined to enter this war. I had to do my part to protect them, so they wouldn’t have to throw away their lives.

With an effort of will, I withdrew two select items from my dimension ring. Uto’s horns settled into my palms, the crisp inky objects settling solidly.

Sylvie’s ears immediately perked up as her eyes dilated, focusing on the horns. “Arthur,” she said excitedly, bouncing over like a cat that had been presented with a treat, “Are those what I think they are?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, staring at the ridges on each horn. “Seris said these would help me grow stronger. It’s about time we both used this avenue. I haven’t had time to absorb them with how rigid my training has been, but…”

I handed one of the horns off to my bond, who took it excitedly. We’d talked before about plans for these horns in passing, and my foxy little dragon knew she needed to get stronger just as I did.

“I’m going to start absorbing this horn,” I said seriously. “Our enemies always seem to be one step ahead of us, Sylv, but that will start to change with this.”

A serious look crossed my furry bond’s face. “We’ll face whatever comes, Arthur,” she said, putting a paw over the horn I’d given her. “And know I’ll be right beside you the entire way.”

I felt a soft smile split my face. “I can always count on you, Sylv,” I said. “Let’s get down to this, shall we?”

After Sylvie’s affirming nod, I settled myself more comfortably, allowing my shoulders to relax. With a deep breath, I began to probe the inside of the horn with my mana.

I expected something akin to an elixir: a bundle of condensed mana that was easily distributable across the mana veins, allowing the energy to reach my core. Except after a few minutes of probing about inside the horn, I found nothing.

Time trickled by, and I felt my brow furrow in confusion. Had the mana within dispersed after being severed from Uto’s head, or–

An indescribable force pulled at my mind, wrenching me from my reverie. Against my will, I felt as my consciousness was sucked into the horn. I felt a surge of panic as I began to black out–quite literally. Darkness tinged the edges of my vision, my sense of awareness shifting.

I’d never experienced anything quite like this in any world, and the sensation left me distinctly afraid for a moment. I had to forcefully remind myself that I was still sitting on my bed, my bond right beside me. Yet having the sanctity of my mind touched… rattled me in a way I didn’t expect.

I’d grown used to the unexpected, especially after being reincarnated into another world. I’d been granted a new physical body, new features, and new abilities to master. But through it all, one thing stayed the same: my mind.

But now I was at the mercy of whatever this force was, even as a shroud finally covered every inch of my vision. Shadows warped and shifted all around me like a pot of dark ink being stirred by an invisible ladle. My perception wavered strangely, my mind absorbing information in place of a physical body.

But after subjective hours of mindless drifting through the dark nothingspace, the shadows began to change: lifting and shifting as if a theater’s curtains were being drawn away from my eyes.

And found myself in an entirely unfamiliar space. Rows upon rows of paintings lined a darkly ornate hall, each depicting brutal scenes of warfare. Of individual battles. The low light made every shadow seem longer, but that wasn’t ‘my’ focus.

In front of me were two familiar mages, facing off with me in clearly combative stances. I recognized Cylrit on sight: he was wearing the same matte-black armor as when I’d met him off the coast of Sapin. His face was narrowed in an expression of unfamiliar anger, but I quickly found my focus narrowing on the other person.

Beneath the mask, the Asclepius Retainer was a handsome young man–maybe not that much older than myself. His eyes burned with the same orange glow as when he’d spotted me in the cavern in Darv, but I was able to see how his jaw clenched in restrained anger.

I felt a well of disdain rise up as I stared at the two. A quiet hatred and contempt sifted throughout my blood, urging me on.

I realized, logically, I should feel something else right now: maybe fear? Anger, or perhaps reservation? After all, Cylrit was my enemy. And the Asclepius Retainer had deeply complicated this war with their ability to influence the Lance artifacts.

But I realized very quickly that whatever emotions I was ‘feeling’ weren’t mine. Not exactly. They were–

“But you know what else? Good ol’ Cylrit here left all fun behind–but there was another who knew how to really live it up,” I said, my voice like the scratch of nails on a chalkboard. Except I didn’t consciously choose to say the words. ” I always wanted to meet that Mardeth fellow. His methods really spoke to me, you know? All those bodies he left made things so much more efficient.”

The Asclepius Retainer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. I was vaguely aware that ‘I’ wanted something more than that.

“Cylrit is right. Your taunts are easy to see through, Uto.”

As ‘I’ walked forward to stare down at the Asclepius Retainer, I tried to piece together what was happening. It appeared I was living through some sort of memory from Uto’s perspective. I–or Uto–felt a deep well of disdain for both mages in front of me, but particularly for Cylrit. But why, I didn’t know.

“You’re a shitty liar, you know. I can see how much you want to crater in my face. Like an unscratchable itch on your back that you just. Can’t. Reach,” ‘I’ said, trying to goad a reaction. “Tell me what Mardeth did, Spellsong. I wanted to know exactly what made you throw your temper tantrum.”

Who is Mardeth? I wondered, noting the name. A Retainer? A Scythe?

I felt a strange sense of deja vu as the strawberry-blonde mage stared up at Uto in quiet defiance, his jaw clenching and working as his eyes flashed. But I felt a deeper sense of satisfaction from just that sentence: finally, we had a name. A title we could put to the Retainer that had been haunting Aya’s nightmares.

Spellsong.

“Was it a brother? A friend? It’s always the loss of ones you lessers care about that drive you to such anger. So he took someone from you, I’m certain. But who, Spellsong?”

‘I’ stared into the burning orange eyes of the phoenix-blooded man, feeling disappointed as he withstood my goading. But apart from that, I felt my true mind whirl with the implications of this interaction. I felt myself thinking as I did back when I was King Grey, trying to dissect complex motives from simple interactions I witnessed.

It seemed that the upper echelons of Alacryan society weren’t nearly as united as they were made out to be. The hostility Uto was displaying toward both Cylrit and Spellsong spoke to a true, deeper division amidst the invaders.

It was strange, thinking amidst foreign feelings. I couldn’t exactly discern Uto’s thought process, but I was feeling his emotions as they came through. I hung on to every word and dip in his mood. As this conversation went by, I found more and more questions building.

“Leave us, Uto, or I will be forced to remove you myself,” Cylrit said impassively from the side. “Though we may be destined to work together in this war, you can be replaced if necessary.”

‘I’ turned to stare at Cylrit, and it was as if a lightbulb had gone off in my brain. Uto’s emotions practically jumped with joy as he made some sort of connection, piecing a dozen scattered splinters into one cohesive whole.

I felt a simultaneous mix of dread and anticipation as Uto seemed to realize exactly what he needed to say to trigger both the mages in front of me. ‘I’ straightened sharply, looming at my full height so I could look down on both Cylrit and Spellsong. The grin that stretched across ‘my’ face made me feel violated just from the sensation, sharpened teeth gnashing. My lips might as well have touched my ears.

“Ah, I understand now! It wasn’t any sort of loss, was it!” I snapped my fingers. “Spellsong here was always with pretty old Seris, wasn’t he? Executing her plans?”

And true to form, Cylrit raced to protect his master’s name like a loyal hound. I felt Uto’s contempt as his chin turned up, mana flaring in anger.

“Keep my master’s name from your–”

But ‘I’ wasn’t done. “It makes sense why she has two pretty men with her at all times now,” ‘I’ said against my own will. “She always seemed like the kind to take two at once. I understand, though. I wouldn’t mind tearing her dress off myself.”

I felt a wave of secondhand disgust as the words were uttered with ‘my’ tongue. Simultaneously, I got the distinct impression Uto was imagining the situation he spoke of from the ravenous, disgusting glee I felt from him.

Even without a body, I felt sick from the emotions he had. I found myself suddenly grateful I couldn’t perfectly discern Uto’s thoughts: just the bits and pieces horrified me deeply.

He is a monster, I thought, feeling tainted anger from the secondhand slime of his emotions. His threats against Tess and Alea suddenly resurfaced in my mind, adding a darker tinge of anger and disgust to it all.

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Cylrit stepped forward, his hand to the side as if to summon a weapon. His face was cast in thunder, but I knew he wasn’t Uto’s initial target this time. No, ‘I’ wanted to goad someone else.

And from what I saw, the bait was successful. Though Spellsong’s hand snapped to the side to hold back Cylrit from trying to punch ‘me,’ his mana flared with power, pulsing outward. I watched as runic feather stems appeared under the Asclepius Retainer’s eyes, a dark red chain glowing over his arm. His eyes seemed to glow even brighter as they locked with mine.

Is that… I thought, feeling a wave of anticipation entirely separate from Uto’s, A Beast Will?

I threw back my head, laughing as I held ‘my’ hands out to the side in invitation. “Well, it looks like Seris’ leashed pups rush to defend their master. Are you that desperate to defend the one you use to wet your–”

“I want you to think of this moment,” Spellsong said simply, his voice cool and tranquil as a summer lake. “I want you to remember it, Retainer Uto.”

I felt a chill run through me at the evenness of the man’s words. The way he said it sounded too much like King Grey: passionless and empty. But as each syllable seemed to morph the air around him, I realized something well before Uto.

No, I thought. If I could control my movements, I was sure I’d be in a combat stance by now. No, this isn’t like my mask of King Grey. This is something else.

“Speak up, brat,” Uto goaded, sauntering forward and locking eyes with Spellsong. “I can’t hear you.”

Spellsong’s lips settled into an easy smile. His combative stance relaxed. Where once he was poised like a hawk ready to strike at a snake, now he looked as leisurely as if he were on a morning stroll. And finally, Uto seemed to realize something was wrong.

The ambient mana shifted strangely. I recognized it as King’s Force–but it simultaneously wasn’t. Spellsong radiated a paradoxical peace. A presence-defying calm that made the hair on Uto’s arms stand on end. ‘I’ felt as Uto’s victorious inner chant was suddenly dislodged.

“Remember this. When you’re chained to a wall, alone in the rancid dark, I want you to feel an… itch.”

Those words, uttered softly and evenly as if he were talking to a child, caused Uto’s emotions to slip. I myself felt taken aback. I–alongside Uto–expected a punch to be thrown. Maybe a few spells to detonate. But these words…

“What nonsense are you speaking about, Spellsong?” ‘I’ said. Uto felt something was dreadfully wrong. The hallway we were in seemed to compress, leaving only Spellsong and I alone. The way that he brushed away ‘my’ accusation… it sent deep, deep shivers down my spine.

The Asclepius man smiled softly. It almost looked like the kind of smile a mother reserved for their child, or maybe a teacher for their student. “Remember the words you spoke to me when you’re lashed to a wall like the animal you are, rotting in your own filth. I want you to go mad. It’ll scrape against the inside of your mind in every single instant. Like an unscratchable itch on your back that you just. Can’t. Reach.”

Uto felt threatened. Like a wolf that was used to preying on beasts smaller than it, yet was suddenly faced with the insurmountable wall of another predator. He didn’t want to acknowledge it; didn’t want to think. But the quiet fear he suddenly felt at the surety of Spellsong’s words made him recoil backward.

“I have no idea what nonsense you’re talking about, lesser,” Uto snarled, my own lips uttering the words. “But I think I’ll take my time ripping you to–”

The doors to the room in front of me–made of the same sort of metal Uto was fond of conjuring–slammed open. At the forefront was Scythe Seri Vritra, her face a mask of quiet anger. Her clothing was similar to the last time I’d seen her, and her pearlescent hair shimmered with contained power as her aura slammed into ‘me.’ Behind her, five other figures stood in shadow, each radiating enough strength to make my knees feel like jelly.

I felt a rush of excitement at the same time the pit dropped out of Uto’s stomach. The other Scythes, I thought with determination. I’ll get to see them. If we know what they look like–

Yet in that bare instant that Uto met Seris Vritra’s eyes, I was torn from the vision. I found myself suddenly back on my bed, an umbral haze-like substance spilling out of the horn in my hand.

Except it wasn’t streaming through my mana veins. No, it was inching toward the acclorite Wren Kain had embedded in my palm.

I dropped the horn, doing a cursory inspection of my mana core. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any sort of noticeable change.

“Damn it,” I grumbled. I’d wanted the mana from Uto’s horn to be absorbed into my core. I was so, so close to the white core, and I felt that with the push from Uto’s mana, I’d make it far faster than otherwise.

I let out a resigned sigh as I turned to Sylvie. Unsurprisingly, she was still busy absorbing her own horn. Outside, the sun was already coming up. I blinked in surprise. How long had I spent in Uto’s memories?

I pulled myself off the bed, trying to remember exactly everything that had happened in the memory. I pulled my clothes off–each bit stinking of sweat–and made my way to the shower.

I wanted to wash myself clean of last night’s training, true, but what I really needed was to separate myself from Uto’s filthy taint on my mind. I couldn’t sense anything different, but there was something violating about experiencing the emotions from his disgusting fantasies secondhand.

When I was all clean, I quickly threw on a loose tunic and trousers. I’d spent the time getting ready categorizing everything I’d seen in my mind. The questions I now had were even more than before, but at least a few had answers.

It appeared that Spellsong and Cylrit were highly devoted to Seris Vritra. While I doubted they were what Uto accused them of, their reactions and closeness spoke to something more than just military assignments. Confidants of the Scythe, maybe?

And considering what Spellsong had said to Uto about being chained in the dark… he might very well have known of his Scythe’s plans in advance. But if I were to take that at face value, that implied Seris had long ago designed plans to allow us to capture Uto and interrogate him.

These thoughts and more swirled around in my mind as I plodded down the halls of Dicathen’s flying castle. Normally, I’d go straight to training with the elders, working on honing my aptitude in combat. But I’d promised Virion I’d keep him in the loop on anything regarding Scythe Seris and her strange actions in the future.

It wasn’t difficult to find Gramps. This early, the old man had taken to simply sitting by himself in one of the flying castle’s many gardens, meditating in the peaceful ambiance.

I understood why he did so. This war had visibly aged my old mentor, hardening and wearing him down simultaneously. We both needed our time to rest and recuperate.

It was unfortunate I’d have to interrupt Virion’s reverie.

“Hey, Gramps,” I said jovially, plopping myself down next to the old elf where he meditated. “Learning insight into the secrets of the universe? Achieving inner peace?”

Virion cracked a single eye open, looking at me skeptically. “Well, I was, brat,” he snarked. “But then I was reminded that I’ll have you to deal with as my eventual grandson. Then I realized it was pointless, considering all the trouble you cause me.”

I laughed slightly, rubbing the back of my neck, but it was a forced thing. The old elf–whom I’d known since my childhood in Elenoir–opened his other eye, looking at me seriously as he sensed the gravity of my arrival.

“As glad as I am to see you, Arthur,” he said, “We both know you wouldn’t take time out of your day to see your grandpa-to-be when we’re both so busy. What happened?”

I ran my tongue over my lips, thinking of what to say. I didn’t want to stress the old elf any more than he already was, but if there was anyone who might be able to pick this apart, it was this man.

And so I gradually told him the entire story of the vision I’d experienced. Virion listened quietly, his sharp brows pinching in a way that made every wrinkle seem as deep as a Darvish chasm. When I finally finished my recollection, there was silence in the small glade as he processed the words.

“I think we can safely assume that this ‘Seris Vritra’ had planned for Uto to come into our possession for a time before he whooped your ass in that field,” Virion eventually said, mirroring my thoughts on the matter. “And that she told the Asclepius, at the very least. I’ll say that Retainer Uto’s cell is very dark, very cold, and he is very much lashed to a wall.”

I snorted, the thought of Uto chained to a wall somewhat comforting.

“But this begs more questions,” Virion said again, shifting so he was facing me fully. “Does this mean Seris Vritra only spared you from Uto to remove an enemy without repercussions, while allowing a reasonable measure of doubt? From what the bastard said, I could understand why she would do so.”

I slowly shook my head. “I don’t think that’s exactly why. Maybe part of it, true, but she didn’t need to keep me alive, either. She could have simply finished off both Uto and me, then let whoever found the aftermath assume Uto and I had killed each other. No, her motives are more complex.”

“And this other mage–Spellsong, was it?” Virion rolled the name around on his tongue. “His actions align rather neatly with Seris in a way I can’t explain. Reports came in that he personally freed the captives from that slave market you uncovered. And if Seris really is on our side, it appears she’s playing a game neither of us truly knows.”

I gnashed my teeth, standing up as I ran a hand through my hair. I felt agitated: I hadn’t slept last night, and I was tired of my enemy constantly knowing more than I did. I kicked a rock, sending it flying into a tree with the force of a bullet.

“We just don’t know,” I sighed in agreement. We didn’t know what Seris wanted. What Spellsong wanted. Where Aldir was, or even if Lance Olfred was still alive. We were in the dark. “Nothing we know seems to help us in this war, and our asuran allies seem happy to leave us out to dry now, too.”

Virion’s face was carefully controlled. “We have a place to start from now, Arthur,” he said seriously. “It appears that our enemy isn’t nearly as cohesive as we once thought. That opens up strategies for us to exploit. Furthermore, that Scythe seems to be content to wait out in Darv with Spellsong rather than making any overt moves. I’d count that as a good thing.”

I plopped down heavily on the grass, groaning as the stress built. “Way to be optimistic, Gramps,” I said lamely.

Virion ruffled my hair. “That’s my job, brat,” he said, though there was a bitter edge to his voice. “Now, what do you say to getting a whole lot of our questions answered?”

I raised a brow as I looked at Virion. “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling confused.

The old elf stood, stretching out his back in an exaggerated way and sighing with relief as it cracked. “Remind me never to sit in one position too long,” he commented. “My legs fall asleep far faster than they used to. But anyways,” he said, looking at me seriously, “When I said that Uto’s cell was dark, cold, and he was very much lashed to a wall, I meant that seriously. This past week, we’ve had torturers in the castle trying to work on him, but all he’s done is scream and spit and thrash. We’ve gotten no useful information from him.”

I blinked in surprise, orienting more fully on my first teacher in this world.

“At first, we thought that you must have driven him mad by breaking his horns. Perhaps the mana feedback did something to his mind to leave him so unstable. But with your vision, it makes more sense, doesn’t it?”

I felt a sinister smirk stretch across my face as I realized what the old elf was thinking. “I think I see exactly what you’re planning,” I said, standing up once more as anticipation and deadly satisfaction thrummed across my veins. “And I’m more than happy to help.”

—

An hour or so later, I was walking through the shrouded layers of Dicathen’s dungeons. On this deepest level, I wasn’t restricted in my use of mana.

Uto’s cell door loomed not far away, a caustic, rabid aura radiating from it.

“The prisoner hasn’t been able to say a single coherent word to me,” the torturer, a weasely man named Gentry, said with a scoff. “He seems well and truly mad to me, Commander. With all due respect, I don’t know what could be done to get him to speak!”

Virion sniffed in distaste at the tools of torture arrayed around us. “Trust me on this one, Gentry,” he said, looking at me with a gleam in his eyes. “You’ll have what you need soon enough.”

With a nod toward Virion, I stepped toward the cell. I reached my hand out, opening the door wide.

Within the confines of my mind, Uto had left a deep, deadly impression. Throughout my entire battle with the Retainer, Sylvie and I together hadn’t managed to land a single, meaningful hit. I was used to feeling powerful, but that clash left me feeling markedly weak.

In my nightmares, Uto was a tall, lanky shadow that came straight from a demon’s twisted mind. His imposing figure, like a sickly tree that had been left to rot in the elements, had earned its place among the deadliest of my enemies.

But when I saw the Retainer in his cell, I found that mental image clashing with the broken thing in front of me. Uto’s wrists were raw from how they’d rubbed against his shackles, and his greasy hair stuck to his face. More than a few of his fingernails had been pulled.

When I entered his sight, the Retainer hissed like a rabid animal, showing a row of teeth sharpened into points.

“Hello, Uto,” I said casually, crossing my arms as I made a show of looking him up and down. “I’m sure you’ve felt better.”

The reaction was immediate. Uto’s nostrils flared, his pinprick eyes blowing wide.

“You’ve come to mock me!” he yelled scratchily, his voice pitiful and whining. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it, pup! To watch me beg and cower like you lessers!”

I felt a smile tug at the edges of my lips. Already he was beginning to speak. That was more than Gentry had ever managed, and just from my presence.

Uto began to spit profanities at me, vowing to all of his Vritra exactly what he was going to do to me when he got out. What he was going to do to my family, to Tess…

I felt my eyes narrow at that. “How’s that itch?” I asked. As I said it, I did my best to emulate Spellsong’s tone. I wanted that strange, peaceful inflection he’d managed to imbue into his words.

But while I didn’t achieve the magical equivalent, I had no doubt it was close enough. Uto’s mouth shut immediately as he cringed away.

“Spellsong knew all along what would happen to you,” I said with an unfamiliar coolness, walking forward with a leisurely gait. “I wonder why that is, huh? If you hadn’t said such interesting words about Scythe Seris, do you think you’d still be here, in this cell…” The next words I said were uttered with pinpoint precision. “Chained to a wall, alone in the rancid dark?”

Uto had gone stock still as I looked at him, gauging his reaction. His head bowed weakly toward his chest, seemingly in submission.

Then he slammed his head back against the stone walls. There was a crack as his skull hit the stones, and he laughed maniacally at the thudding sound. He lowered his head, then prepared to try again.

I blurred forward, unwilling to let the Retainer kill himself. I snatched his jaw in my hand, holding it tight. “You don’t get to kill yourself today, Uto,” I snarled, savoring the madness I saw in his eyes. “I have some questions for you, and you are going to answer them.”