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Heller: New World
Chapter 42: A brilliant light

Chapter 42: A brilliant light

We were escorted through the thick tunnel leading to the enclosed column-supported courtyard, past the area containing the reinforced shelter rooms (which I had stayed in twice now) with their tall shelves stocked full of supplies, and then down a long hallway into a section of North Stone Fort that I had never seen before. Several sturdy iron-banded doors stood between this section and the 'common' area, and the difference between the two was so great that I couldn't help but let out a small gasp. Thick rugs lined the stone hallway, and intricate wall hangings decorated the entire space alongside a plethora of assorted carvings, paintings, and statues that ranged from gaudy to exquisite.

It was like entering a different world entirely, and the luxury on display contrasted starkly with the much more utilitarian aesthetic I had grown used to as a resident of North Stone Village. It was my first time even seeing floor coverings and objet d'art since my rebirth, and to have them so casually laid out in a cluttered display like that was a stunning reminder of the world I had left behind - it felt exactly like walking into an antique store stuffed with more 'treasures' than they had space to properly display. I made a mental note to ask Wolfram if his place was decked out like this. Maybe it was a 'frontier' thing...

The display of wealth near the entryway lessened as we entered the area where visiting nobility stayed when they left the City to visit our village. There were audience chambers and various other rooms on the lower floors, and stairwells leading to personal suites and other lodgings on the upper levels, but there was only one noble who had permanent accommodations in the fort: Lord Runax of the Great House Flameward. I had never seen him before, however, and from what I understood neither he nor his personal soldiers had been present during either of the previous beast attacks... yet there were quite a few soldiers of House Flameward present now (we had already seen a half dozen soldiers sparring in the courtyard on our short walk through the fort, as well as a number of guards attending to less glamorous tasks such as guarding doors or carrying supplies).

We were instructed to wait in a sitting room with four guards in attendance to keep an eye on us. They had already attempted to separate me from my parents, but both Mother and Jaws had refused in their own predictable ways (with yelling and threats of physical harm from Mom, and a simple "No" from Dad as he shook his massive head back and forth). I had a sense that while nobles might be able to order us 'commoners' around, the guards themselves were of the same social class as my parents, and therefore weren't willing to push things past a certain point. (Or maybe they were just worried their gear wouldn't get repaired properly if they crossed us).

Before long a door set into the far wall opened, revealing a figure I had never seen before who was flanked by two fully armored soldiers. He had large eyes with huge oddly shaped pupils, a wide mouth that almost seemed to split his face in half, an incredibly small chin, and thick leathery green skin covered in small protruding lumps… in short, he looked like a humanoid frog. I had long grown accustomed to various mutations and everyone looking so distinct, yet there were a few individuals scattered throughout the village who had gotten what I considered to be a 'bad draw'; and this man was their king...

“Isa Firehand,” said the frog-faced man, drawing out the last name, “her Blacksmith,” he didn’t even look at Father, sweeping his eyes from Mother directly to me, “and her boy.” His tone was neither mocking nor polite, just... uninterested, as if this entire affair was beneath him, and he had a faint accent that felt somehow familiar. His clothes, a burgundy robe trimmed with silver and gold thread, were also far more colorful, detailed, and expensive looking than I had seen before.

He sauntered forward until he stood in the center of the room, and then stood and examined the three of us as a few more guards and soldiers entered the room. It was then that I realized one of the armored figures flanking him was missing an arm, and my eyes widened as I recognized him as one of the shadow wolf attack survivors.

“I will now question the boy," frog-dude said, "you shall either leave the room, or you will remain silent.” He wasn't addressing anyone in particular, more just making blanket proclamations to the air in front of him.

This must be Lord Runax, right? He certainly acted as I imagined someone with the word 'Lord' in their title might... yet while I was both confused by the situation and mildly offended by his dismissive tone, I had a sense that, unlike the guards, this was someone we were supposed to obey. Mother quickly declared that she would be silent (in a strangely subdued tone), followed by Father doing the same. My suspicions were confirmed; this was an important person - and then his introduction removed all doubts.

“I am Lord Runax Flameward, Marshal of North Stone Village. Now then, boy, you are supposedly quite clever, for a child. I do hope you understand that your answers here today will be carefully scrutinized, and therefore lying is simply impossible.” He abruptly looked straight into my eyes for the first time and I was struck by the heat and intensity in his gaze, like a wounded antelope in front of a hungry lion. He glanced at one of the soldiers, freeing me from his scrutiny, and I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding in.

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“I have collected several reports detailing odd activities here in North Stone Village,” he said, pinning me with his gaze again, “And I have put the clues together.” He glanced at my mother, “Are you aware that Firehand is the appellation given to those who betray the Great House Flameward?” he asked, again addressing the room in general.

It took me a moment to realize that I was supposed to answer. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I simply shook my head.

“Well, boy, Isa Firehand," he said, emphasizing the final word, "was born in one of the lesser branch families of House Flameward… she was one of my cousins, in fact.” He looked at Jaws, “But she was cast out.”

Lord Runax paused there and let the silence linger as he turned slowly to inspect the room. There were now even more guards present, including a familiar man with a bandaged hand standing by the doorway.

The frog-faced noble continued after studying my mother (who was flushed red and shaking with anger as she stared down at the floor) for a moment, “Boy, did you know that it is against the law for commoners to learn, or possess, Cultivation Techniques?” He suddenly turned and looked at me again, and I took a reflexive step back. What? Cultivation Techniques… wait, did he somehow know that I was learning how to read and write alongside Wolfram? But no, that should be impossible, right? Yet the only 'Cultivation Technique' I was aware of was the one on the secret family scroll that Wolfram's father had shown him, and we hadn’t even seen the damn thing yet! (Although we were getting really close.)

I scrambled to think, having no idea what I should say to these strange accusations that made no sense. It was just so beasting difficult to focus with him locking my eyes to his, and I couldn't look away even though it felt like staring at thousand-watt stadium lights.

“W... what?” I managed to say.

He looked away again and I quickly shut my eyes, not wanting to be drawn into whatever he was doing (plus my eyes were getting seriously dry). Maybe if I had been a regular six-and-a-half-year-old kid I would have thought "Oh no, my guilt makes it hard to look at him!", or some other crap, but no... it was clearly some kind of mental superpower. Maybe part of his own Cultivation Technique, assuming he had one (which seemed a pretty safe assumption to make).

I felt a hand close painfully tight around my upper arm (but luckily not nearly hard enough to activate [Reflexive Aurashield]) as a new voice hissed near my ear, "Eyes open!"

It was the one-armed soldier, who was looming over me with his gauntleted fist squeezing my bicep. I glanced at my parents and saw them both staring at him intently... and the scowl on my father's face gave me chills. Uhho... I'd never seen him mad before... I tried to give them both a reassuring smile - the last thing we needed was for this to devolve into violence. Mom could get hurt!

The armored brute let go of my arm as Lord Froggy captured my gaze again. Arrrgg! Eyedrops! My kingdom for some flippin' eyedrops!

"Tell me, boy, when did your mother, Isa Firehand, begin teaching you her family's Cultivation Technique."

What the beast... was that what this whole stupid thing was about!? These dumb beast-brained... "Are you crazy? She never even told me she had something like that, let alone teach me!" I started to let out a nervous chuckle, but it was difficult with my eyes dry and stinging - which only got worse when he frowned at me.

The one-armed jackass was squeezing my arm again. I knew that calling a noble 'crazy' probably hadn't been the best move, but they had just caught me so off guard. Why would they even think Mom would do something like that? She hadn't even told me she was born a noble! At least now I had some idea why.

"Do you know anything about the Cultivation Techniques belonging to the Great House Flameward?"

It was so hard to think. Coming up with a complex lie under the power of his stare was difficult, but luckily my lie was simple: I just had to pretend that I hadn't overheard those soldiers speaking about rising flames all those months ago, and the rest was the truth.

"No... except that 'flame' might be involved, since the name of the Great House is Fameward, I guess?"

Lord Runax snorted, reaching into the pocket of his richly decorated robe to draw out a bundle of cloth wrapped around a small shard of yellow crystal. He unwrapped the crystal slowly, being careful not to touch it, and then moved as if to hand it to me. “Take this stone,” he said. It wasn’t a request. "If it glows red you are a liar. White or gold, you are a spy. And if it glows blue... you are a snake."

I looked over at my parents again; Mother was pale but visibly relieved, as if certain this yellow crystal would help clear everything up; Father was still glaring at the soldier gripping my arm, his frown even deeper than before. I took a deep breath and reached out to take the crystal, activating my [Ion Shield] momentarily just in case it was a trap and it tried to burn me…

…Which turned out to be a good idea, as the crystal flashed with a blinding light and shattered with a sharp *CRACK* not even a second after it touched my hand! I was completely unhurt (of course), but Lord Runax (who had been right in front of me) stumbled back a few steps in surprise, beads of blood forming on his neck and hands. “Bloody beast!” he exclaimed, ignoring his wounds as he looked at the tattered remains of the cloth in his hand.

The soldier next to me had it even worse, staggering backward while clutching his face with his one good hand and hissing in pain. There was blood running down his cheek, which couldn't have been a good sign.

Nobody else was injured, including my parents, and they were all either staring at me, at the cloth in Lord Runax's hand, or they were too busy blinking rapidly (trying to clear the brilliant afterimage of the exploding crystal from their eyes) to be staring at anything at all.

Well... crap. Now, how the beast do I salvage this mess... "See? I wasn't lying, and it didn't glow red, white, gold, or blue!"

Lord Runax's eyes snapped to mine as he grimaced. Was it something I said?