“Sir Grimhawk was old,” whispered Shaw. “He was no longer suited for combat. His heart was simply not strong enough for him to face combat. The only one to blame for his death is Paladin Buttonweed.”
Sybil looked up at him. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from all the crying she had done. How dare Shaw tell her that Buttonweed was the one to blame? He wasn’t the one who had fought Grimhawk. He wasn’t the one who had slept peacefully next to a dying man.
The tears were suddenly fresh in Sybil’s eyes. She collapsed against Shaw’s chest, bawling loudly in the process. Hot tears soaked through his clothes, but Shaw didn’t care. He hugged onto Sybil tightly and waited patiently for her to finish.
Chickadee and Zaniyah had used their letters to figure out where Alton and Sybil were. They were currently resting at the inn while they figured out what they needed to do next. Either they waited for Beat and Veximarl to finish their work, or they left for the barracks without them.
The room’s door opened and Alton entered. He tapped into his letter, glaring at Shaw the entire time he did so. After he was done, he held it up for both of them to read.
“I’m sorry.” It said. “He had already passed by the time we stopped. I had to get help for the baby first.”
“Baby?” Sybil took the handkerchief that Shaw offered her and dabbed at her eyes. “Miss Lilium’s child?”
Alton nodded his head and typed into his letter again. “We don’t know what to do with him, but we were told that we can’t leave him here.”
“One of the kitchen workers recently gave birth,” replied Shaw. “She likely wouldn’t mind serving as a wetnurse until we find a better arrangement.”
At least Claire’s child would be safe. “And what do we do with Sir Grimhawk?” Sybil asked.
Shaw firmly gripped onto Sybil’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “We guide him home.”
Alton hung his head off to the side. They actually had to wait for the cleric to finish preserving Grimhawk’s body first and somehow make Zaniyah stop crying long enough for them to travel in peace. He put a hand to the side of his head. They couldn’t rush moving a newborn either. His only comfort was that it wasn’t just him and Sybil making this journey.
They waited to be called downstairs. Sybil rode a horse so that Zaniyah could ride in the wagon with Chickadee. At least the horse kept her feeling distracted. She didn’t have time to worry about how many people had found out that Veximarl was a necromancer, or if he was going to die next, or the fact that all of this was her fault in the first place.
Another one feeling the brunt of guilt was Alton. He had always known he was the weakest fighter in the squad, but he wanted to be there for Sybil. His hand graced the collar about his neck, still in place until Chickadee could get tools to remove it. Deep down, he knew he was fortunate. For whatever reason, Buttonweed wanted him too. If not for that, he would already be dead.
Luck could only carry him so far. What could he do going forward? Become a better fighter? He had realized something when Stonetoe had attempted to teach him how to use a rapier. Alton had hit his physical limit. There was no being better than this.
And it made him feel like screaming at the world. That it wasn’t fair that Sybil was being hunted, or that Veximarl had to bear all that grief of being a necromancer. Nor was it fair that Chickadee had to remain at the barracks, or that Zaniyah was late due to someone messing with their messages.
Yet all he could do was remain silent. To keep watch over the others and dry their tears for them. That was the only weight he was allowed to carry. It made him angry. It made him worry. Most of all, it made him feel useless.
Within the wagon, Zaniyah was hiccuping. She couldn’t stop. The long hours she spent crying made her eyes and throat sore. Within her arms, a baby was struggling to cry. His voice was weak as well. Born too soon to this world and without a parent to watch out over him.
Zaniyah put her pinky near his mouth and let him suckle it... He was so weak. She hardly felt anything at all. Her own lips parted to say something, but then she looked up at Chickadee. His eyes were locked on the bed, where Grimhawk had been covered by a blanket. The corner of his eyes were red and he had been more silent than he had ever been in his life.
“... Mom was my age when she had Zynn,” muttered Zaniyah. Chickadee looked up at her. “I think if I work hard, maybe I can graduate before winter. Then I can try to find some work in Carapace and find a way to raise this kid right.”
Chickadee’s eyes struggled to focus. He gave her the most confused expression she had ever seen him make.
“My back isn’t much better,” whispered Zaniyah. “I don’t know, maybe it’ll get better over time? I was in bed for… Well, it felt like a long time… But, I don’t know how much further I can go. I can play it safe and stay in the acolyte program for a little bit longer. Carapace doesn’t have a lot of paladins and nobles like having them around as decorations. Maybe I can make enough money that way?”
Chickadee’s gaze flitted between the baby and Zaniyah.
“Because it’s our fault, alright? Someone has to take care of him.”
“The Den,” replied Chickadee.
It was what the elementalists had started to call their newfound town. More and more were showing up to their encampment north of Braytons. There was a solid chance that they were going to attempt to start a city there.
This child was the son of an elementalist. The Den would be more than willing to take him in… But Zaniyah knew differently. She knew that this was Maurice’s son, and the thought of this kid having to go through the same problems as his parents scared the absolute shit out of her.
“I just want to make sure Simon is raised right,” she whispered.
“... Simon.”
Zaniyah puffed out her cheeks. “That’s his name.” She looked down at Simon. He was so tiny that it was bizarre to think that he was human. Maybe that meant he would be an elementalist. After all, Chickadee was a tiny mage and all the strongest mages were tiny.
Chickadee looked down at the floor of the wagon. He knew she was trying to distract them. Neither of them wanted to talk about Grimhawk.
“But I don’t know if I can handle him when he starts flinging magic all about,” muttered Zaniyah. “Maybe you and Emery can help me out?”
“I’m breaking up with Emery,” replied Chickadee.
He liked Emery just fine, but that’s all it was. Just fine. There weren’t any issues with their relationship, but Chickadee was suddenly feeling weak. By proclaiming himself strong enough to protect everyone, he had failed to save Grimhawk.
And he knew that they shouldn’t have gone off by themselves. Chickadee knew that from the beginning, but he wanted to trust his friends. He wanted to trust his knight and believe that everything would work out just fine without him… Maybe they were at fault for what happened, but it was also his fault for not saying anything.
There was a curse on their squad. How many deaths would they cause before they find a solution? Was the next going to be Emery? He was away on mission, but what about Macestar Squad? No doubt that Zaniyah was only there to lure in Sybil. Aside from Buttonweed, was there anyone else that could move them about like pawns and endanger their friends? As long as that was a possibility, Chickadee didn’t want to risk it.
He was done with death.
His hands fumbled together. “... After we find them,” he whispered.
“Find who?” Zaniyah looked up and tilted her head.
“People who are hurting Sybil,” replied Chickadee. “We will kill them.” His eyes met hers for a moment. They burned with determination, then he looked down again. “Then we’ll raise Simon.”
Zaniyah briefly smiled. “Thanks, Chi.”
The two fell silent when they realized that Simon had fallen asleep. There were only the rough sounds of the wagon to keep them company until they pulled into the barracks. The night had been out for a while now. Alton peeked his head into the wagon and gestured for them to come out.
Chickadee went off to the forge to find something to help Alton. The rest of them were stopped by Irving. A long silence hung in the air as Alton and Irving tapped at their letters. Alton was usually the one who did the talking, but he was left mute at the moment.
Irving held up his letter for them to see. “I’ll wake Lady Till.”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Wait until after we have spoken to Doctor Blu,” replied Shaw. “We are to see to the child’s care first and discover which of these rings may have been used to control Sybil.”
“My! It took the lot of you long enough to show up!” Duxton called out from the other side of the courtyard. He left Flatongue in charge of the barony so he could return with Mila and Irving, and was confused to learn that neither Shaw or Zaniyah had arrived yet. “I see that you bothered to pick up my dear gloom girl while you were out and- … Is that a baby?”
“Sir Grimhawk and Paladin Buttonweed are dead,” replied Shaw in a cold and callous tone.
The news gave Duxton pause. “... Eh?”
“Follow.” Shaw gestured to the infirmary window.
As a group, they went up to the infirmary. Mostly so that Simon could be cared for, but also so that Sybil could see if there were any lasting effects from the ring. Thinking about the events made her feel hesitant. Mentioning the fact that she had healed her wounds or used a shield… Sybil felt that it would scare the others, not reassure them.
“Other than the obvious, you are quite alright,” said Blu as she lowered her hand. She then squeezed Sybil tightly. “Oh, if only Dalkirk were here,” she whispered. “None of this would have happened.”
Sybil hugged her in return, but she felt hollow on the inside. “What’s going to happen to Sir Grimhawk?”
Blu shook her head. “It’s the tradition to honor our longstanding knights with a burial at Braytons. I will speak with Henry about his family wishes but we will likely cremate him and bury his ashes here. His weapon will be returned to Volo Refuge.”
“Returned?” Sybil eased out of Blu’s hug.
“Yes. Ah, well… It’s not a very interesting story, and he’s had to tell it so many times,” answered Blu. “It doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t tell you.” Blu sat down on the edge of an infirmary bed. “Sir Grimhawk was allowed to attend here because of a weapon he pulled from Volo Refuge.
Supposedly, it has a long history going back to Brayton’s day. It’s customary for the weapon masters to wield that weapon, but they must pull it from the Refuge first.” She then gestured to Shaw, who was holding up a gold ring. “What do you intend to do with it?”
Duxton folded his arms. “The only man I trust with it is Professor Rosethorn.” He held out his hand and waited for Shaw to pass him the ring. “I will send it to him through safe channels. He will be able to come up with either a treatment or a way to ensure other rings will not work on her.”
“Thank you,” whispered Sybil. Though she hated the idea of waiting. Who knew how long it could take for a ring to travel that far, or if Rosethorn had the tools he needed to help her.
Alton also bowed his head in gratitude. He then gestured to the door.
“Of course,” replied Blu. “I’ll take care of the baby for now.”
Zaniyah was still holding onto Simon. When Blu held out her arms to take him, Zaniyah clutched him closer to her chest. “... His name’s Simon.”
“Don’t go naming children that aren’t yours,” hissed Shaw under his breath.
Zaniyah ignored his harsh tone. She hesitated for a moment before handing Simon over to Blu. “Is it okay if I stay with him? At least until we get him some clothes and a proper diaper and some food… Oh, and I want to make sure he falls asleep after that, because he’s pretty new to this whole being alive thing and doing all of that at once is, like, putting him through a lot.”
“Of course,” replied Blu with a weak smile.
Sybil thanked Blu again and left the infirmary with Alton, Duxton, and Shaw. She held onto Alton’s hand as she walked. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. Her trembling only worsened when she saw Till and Henry standing next to the wagon with Irving and Mila. Irving was kneeled next to a stretcher and was securing Grimhawk’s body to it.
“Go to the forge and see to Alton’s neck,” muttered Duxton. “Shaw and I will report to Lady Till.”
Sybil dipped her head. “Thank you,” she whispered. It felt wrong to thank Duxton twice within an hour, but she honestly needed a break from the situation.
Once again did Alton nod, and the two of them headed to the forge. Chickadee had found something thin enough that could be slipped between the collar and Alton’s neck. A wide, flat bit of metal that he placed his hand on. One hand cooled the curved plate, sparing Alton’s neck from the heat Chickadee was using to melt the collar.
A snap, and Chickadee carefully adjusted the plate so he could cut away at a second part. The collar thudded to the ground. Alton took a deep breath. He hummed a few bars to make certain that his voice still worked.
“... Thanks,” he finally said. He began to rub his throat. The choking sensation that the collar left behind was slow to fade away.
Sybil gave Chickadee a brief but tight hug. “Will you go see how Zaniyah is doing? I’ll join you after, but I need to talk to Alton first.”
Chickadee hesitated. He gave Sybil’s shoulder a squeeze, then repeated the motion to Alton before running off to the infirmary. If that child was an elementalist, he would no doubt have to make some preparations to make sure that the infirmary wouldn’t spontaneously combust.
Alton watched him run off before he turned to Sybil. “... Sir Grimhawk’s death isn’t your fault,” he whispered. “We all knew that there were risks, but we underestimated the control that ring had over you and-”
“I need to call in the favor,” blurted out Sybil.
“... Favor?” Alton tilted his head. “If there’s something you need, then-”
“Not any favor, Alton, that favor.”
It was barely a year ago, but Alton had nearly forgotten about it. Sybil agreed to marry Alton after they graduated as long as he promised to fulfill one favor. One request. No questions asked. He had assumed that she already had something in mind, due to how quick she was to agree. And certainly, it must have been a serious request, because not once had she mentioned it since. At any point, she could have used it to free herself, yet she had kept it in her pocket.
“... What is it?” He asked in a whisper.
Sybil also lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “You can’t tell anyone about the true nature of Vex’s magic. I seal your lips against it.”
Alton took a step away from her. He didn’t react for the longest time, and when he did, all he had the strength to do was to fold his arms and stare back. The look he was giving was frightening Sybil. It was as though he was scrutinizing a complete stranger.
“... Please say something, Alton,” she whispered.
“... I need a moment to process this,” he replied.
“He’ll die if you tell anyone about it.” Sybil reached for Alton’s arm, but her fingers clutched at the air as he took another step back. “Please, Alton. Vex isn’t a bad guy… He just wants a normal life, and-”
“I already knew,” interrupted Alton. “I’ve known about it for a while.”
“... Then why are you looking at me like that?”
Because he didn’t know who she was anymore. There was guilt inside Alton. He hated what he had done to Sybil in the past, and he had always worried that she would never truly forgive him for it. What was happening at this very moment was transcending Alton’s worst fears. Sybil had sold her body, lied and manipulated him, all so that she could have this one moment where she could seal his lips for Veximarl’s safety.
He wanted to yell at her. Alton wanted to cry out about how stupid she was. How careless she had been, and how time and time again, she didn’t give a damn about what happened to her. Every trial they faced always had to hold a reason to sacrifice herself and that careless, “I’ll just give myself up,” nature is what landed them in this mess.
Rather than tell her friends she failed the exam, she would head into the swamplands with a practical stranger. She’d toss herself in a miasma ridden cave to get a chance to talk to Tyrtain again. Or she’d dive into the core to activate an army of golems without proper backup. Barcus murdered her, but she didn’t want to sacrifice his life to get hers back. There was a chance that the slavers wouldn’t have harmed Baron Rockender’s territory, but she gave herself up rather than face that risk.
Sybil used to hold all the cards. She had her friends, she had her knights, but one by one, she had chosen to burn those cards rather than place them on the table. Alton had sworn before that he would always be there for her… But that single request? It had torn a hole in the bottom of Alton’s heart and drained it dry.
“... How can I love a woman who doesn’t even love herself?”
Sybil shook her head. “What does that-”
“Vex would never ask you to do that for him,” replied Alton, once again interrupting her.
“He didn’t have to.” Sybil shook her head again. Veximarl was her friend. None of her friends ever had to ask her help.
“He never had to,” spat back Alton. “I will never betray any one of my fellow squires, especially my captain. But instead of trying to figure out what sort of person I am? You didn’t hesitate to sell yourself to me.” He put a hand to his throat. The weight of his words made him feel like he was choking. “Is that what being a hero means to you? To end up dead in a ditch after one blaze of glory?
Because that’s not what the rest of us were doing. That’s not what our knights taught us to do and Grimhawk’s blood is on our hands because of it... I lied earlier. It’s completely our fault that he’s dead, but he still fought to save you. Vex fought to save both of us and one of his pets is dead because of it… Yet what was the point of it? What’s the point in saving someone who is desperate to throw it all away?
You don’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything unless your alone and miserable… Is that it? At the end of the day, is it only pain that makes you understand that you’ve done something that’s carried weight in this world? Is agony all you desire?”
Sybil let him rant. There wasn’t a point in interrupting him when he was on one of his monologues. He’d end up storming off before she could get a word in… Yet now that he was waiting for her response, she didn’t know what to say.
Being miserable? Or feeling alone in this world? That isn’t anything that she wanted, but it’s what she had to do… It’s always what she had to do. She didn’t understand. What was bad about anything Alton was accusing her of? Why was it wrong?
Alton tensed up. He wasn’t comfortable with her silence. “There are a lot of people in this world who never get the chance to experience happiness… And then there’s you, Sybil. You don’t even bother to reach for the sun. You’re happier being buried in the dark.”
She didn’t reply again, still struggling to understand why he was so angry. What did this have to do with Vex? Or with Grimhawk? There was so much they had to deal with at this very moment, but Alton did nothing but throw strange accusations in her face.
All Alton could do was scoff at her silence. “... We’re done, Sybil. I refuse to be your source of pathetic heroism. Whether you try to be happy now or be miserable somewhere else…” He scoffed again, looking away from her this time. “I don’t have the energy to care about you anymore. I’m staying in the dorm’s attic until I can arrange for a squad transfer… But that has to wait until later. I have to deal with Grimhawk’s funeral first.”
He left her standing alone by the forge. Sybil leaned against the side of an anvil. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? Alton wouldn’t be there to make her choices for her and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Veximarl. That was good… That was actually great. Everything seemed to be working out.
No more marriage. No more overbearing partner. She was free. Sybil Twist was free to make her own decisions… But at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel troubled… Why did it still feel like there was a cage around her? One that was ever tightening about her chest?