Chapter 46 - First and Second
Alaric’s home stood near the very center of Carran, though the slight gap between it and its neighboring buildings as well as the fact that it was constructed further back from the street allowed it to still maintain a remote feeling.
Lazar scanned the home. It was constructed out of sturdy wooden planks, though the design was, like most buildings in Carran, quite simple. It was small too, and so many of those winding black strings and bells crossed in front of it that they created an artificial barrier outside its door.
“Must be loud as fuck with all those things ringing,” Ciel noted with a snort, and Lazar had to agree. Given how dutiful the man seemed, though, perhaps Alaric didn’t mind it.
“I’m afraid it’s not much to look at,” Alaric said as he unlocked and swung the heavy door open. He gestured for them to enter. “You can take a seat anywhere at the table. I’ll be back once I gather my medical supplies.”
Lazar carefully made his way inside, Ciel following behind him. Alaric had insisted on helping him walk even though the seraph had assured the man that the wound wasn’t serious. In the end, Ciel had stepped up to end the disagreement, and the demon had mostly just grabbed his shoulder in the semblance of helping during their brief journey to the home. Lazar was grateful for it. It was distinctly uncomfortable to be treated so fragilely, especially over a wound that would have been less than a scratch before falling.
The interior of the building was as simple as the outside, though the maroon furniture and cream colored curtains helped add a bit of warmth to the otherwise bare walls. The table Alaric had spoken of was situated in the back right beside a large window, perfectly positioned for light to stream inside. The edges of the table seemed to glow where the light hit, and the surface was empty save for a small portrait sitting in one corner.
Ciel strode forward and tugged a chair out, the legs screeching against the wooden floor. She then very dramatically pulled out a second chair and helped Lazar over, not sitting herself until he was seated. The seraph raised an eyebrow.
“You’re having a lot of fun with this,” he observed. The flesh eater grinned and plopped unceremoniously down on the chair beside him.
“You get this funny look on your face whenever someone helps you do something.”
Lazar blinked, one hand moving self-consciously to his face. “I do?”
Ciel waved dismissively. “Relax, it’s pretty subtle.”
Before the seraph had the chance to respond, Alaric stepped into the living room, a messy basket filled with medical supplies in his hands. Some of the items inside, Lazar noted, looked quite old, and they were piled together into one chaotic heap.
The man set the basket down, obscuring the portrait from view. After glancing about the room, Alaric pulled over an extra chair for Lazar to prop his leg up on.
“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good as Matilda is with wounds,” Alaric said as he rummaged through the basket. “I only know the basics.” He pulled out a jar filled with long, thin yellow dried leaves, squinting at its label and then twisting it open. “We’ll need to apply this over the wound. A bite from those beasts is much more likely to grow infected.”
Lazar was about to say that the demon horse hadn’t actually pierced his skin, but if he did then he’d have to explain where the cut had actually come from. So instead, the seraph simply rolled up his pant leg as instructed.
“I should apologize for not warning you about Kane,” Alaric said as he began cleaning the wound with a frown. His movements were a bit uneven, hesitant and unsure in comparison to how efficient Matilda had been.
“You couldn’t have known he would be here,” Lazar reassured. He paused, considering, and continued. “Do the Ash Riders come here often?”
“Once a month officially for ‘tribute.’” Alaric’s eyes hardened briefly at the word, fingers tightening around the cloth. “But as you saw, the riders will pass through here whenever they wish.”
“Not very punctual, are they,” Ciel drawled. Lazar glanced down, noting that Alaric’s movements had slowed further the closer he got to the cut itself. Ciel must have followed his gaze, because she raised an eyebrow.
“He’s got a high pain tolerance, no worries.” She jabbed a thumb in the seraph’s direction. Lazar just stared at the demon.
“I believe,” he said, “that yours is quite a bit higher.”
“Eh, that’s different. Doesn’t count.”
Lazar suddenly wondered if Ciel’s flesh warping came with any sensation or if it was more akin to hair in its lack of feeling. Based on the easy, cavalier way the flesh eater had used it in the past, he’d always assumed it was painless, but he couldn’t be certain of that.
Alaric didn’t look particularly reassured, but he did start cleaning the wound faster again, even as his movements remained careful. Lazar studied him, allowing a few moments of silence to pass before speaking again.
“I didn’t realize the Ash Riders knew magic,” he said in a conversational tone. What he wanted to ask was why Kane hadn’t ascended if he evidently could, but he assumed that answer would be obvious to anyone who was truly from the first plane.
“Did the factions in the north not have many magic users?” Alaric shook his head, brows furrowed. “It’s not all of them, but a fair number are capable of primal spells. Kane is the most proficient, but I don’t believe he’s learned to use spells outside elemental ones quite yet.”
That came as a surprise. Based on the man’s easy control of the flame earlier, Lazar would’ve expected him to know a few more advanced spells as well, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Perhaps humans focused on perfecting single areas of magic before beginning to learn others.
“There weren’t many who could,” Lazar said simply. “Perhaps it’s because we were further from the realm gate. It’s even more difficult to learn magic without much essence available.”
The wrinkle between Alaric’s brows smoothed a little, and the man nodded in agreement. “That is true,” he remarked. “I suppose banished criminals and deserters are less likely to wander so far out as well. The two of you must have traveled quite the distance to get here.”
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That made Lazar pause, mind quickly filing the new information.
“Was Kane banished?”
Alaric pulled the cloth back and moved to grab the jar, pulling out a few of the long leaves. They were so dry that they easily crumbled in his hands, and the powdery pieces were spread across the wound. He nodded grimly.
“He tried to return to the second plane once.” Alaric’s lips pursed at the memory. “But, well, you know how the knights monitor their gate.” He shook his head. “He was furious when he got sent back,” he added bitterly. Lazar could only imagine how the Ash Rider would’ve taken that anger out on the village.
During Julius’s lessons, the first plane had only been briefly mentioned, and that was primarily in the context of fallen. From what Lazar knew, the first plane was ruled by the same government as the second plane, and as such the two had been folded together during lessons.
Based on the influence the various factions seemed to have over the realm and Alaric’s words on the second plane’s knights, however, Lazar suspected that the two realms weren’t as intertwined as Elysium believed.
“It’s a shame,” he said carefully, “that the knights don’t do anything.”
It was a bit of a gamble, but the seraph was fairly certain his assessment of the situation was close enough to accurate for the line to not draw suspicion. Sure enough, a dark look rose in Alaric’s eyes.
“They never will.” He turned and screwed the lid back onto the jar, then reached for a roll of bandages. “I’m not sure how far north they went, but for those of us near the gate, we only see the knights when they’re here to collect taxes.”
“Ah.” Lazar was quiet for a moment as he processed the information. Banished criminals prevented from returning by a presumably monitored gate. Second plane knights who did nothing to stop the growing control of various factions, many of which were composed of the very same people they had banished. It was becoming more and more clear to him how the first plane had reached its current state of affairs, how it had become the “lawless land” that so many knew it as.
It reminded him, he realized, a bit of the relationship between Elysium and the Abyss. Looking up, the seraph met eyes with Ciel across the table. The demon’s golden gaze seemed to gleam in the light. Unobscured by darkness or dim lighting, her eyes looked a shade paler than they had been in the Abyss.
“Sounds like you know that Kane guy pretty well,” Ciel remarked casually. Alaric’s movements stilled for a second, but after that brief pause, he resumed wrapping the bandages.
“The Ash Riders have controlled Carran for quite some time now.” His voice slowed, his next words careful. “And, while I didn’t know him personally, I witnessed his banishment trial.”
Lazar’s head snapped up. “You’re from the second plane?”
Alaric smiled ruefully at that. “I am,” he confirmed. “I believe I would be classified as a deserter, now.”
Being a former knight would certainly explain the man’s overall demeanor and the way he carried himself. The seraph’s eyes landed on his sheathed sword. If he’d been a knight, then he likely knew magic as well. To what extent of mastery, he didn’t know.
Ciel cocked her head. “What was the trial for, anyway?” She jerked her head in the direction of the street, where the Ash Riders had been.
Alaric coughed, looking a little embarrassed. “Admittedly I didn’t hear all of it, though it was a serious enough crime to warrant banishment. All I know for certain is that he continued claiming he was innocent to the very end, even when he was sent down the gate.”
The human finished tying off the bandage and tested it a few times. It was a bit crooked, but it held fast. He nodded in satisfaction. “There, I believe that should do it. You might want to ask Matilda to take another look at it later.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Lazar said, rolling his pant leg back down. “Thank you, Alaric. You’ve been very kind to us.”
“It’s the least I can do,” the man said simply. He turned and placed the jar and roll of bandages back into the basket. “Would either of you like a cup of tea before you leave? I should’ve asked you earlier.”
Lazar met eyes with Ciel, then turned back to Alaric and shook his head. He rose from the chair, bowing in gratitude.
“Thank you, but we should be going.”
Alaric nodded. “Of course. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” The man’s words sounded sincere, and the seraph found himself believing them.
Lazar smiled. “We’ll keep that in mind.”
—
Carran’s streets were more crowded than they’d been the day before. Villagers stood and strolled outside, doing chores and errands and talking amongst themselves. A number were clearly still a bit shaken by the Ash Riders’ appearance, eyes constantly darting in the direction of the field that they’d disappeared on, but others seemed to be taking the good weather in stride.
Lazar remembered Julius once asking him if the first plane was always overcast. He hadn’t known what to say back then.
Now, as he gazed up at the soft blue, cloudless sky, he knew the answer. The seraph closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the warmth of the sunlight against his skin. The wind that day was soft, but constant in its flow, and when he breathed, his lungs felt more full than they had in a long time.
Grey eyes opened again, and the seraph adjusted his grip on the halberd. A few villagers glanced their way as they walked, and Lazar recognized some faces from the crowd that morning.
“Well. That was enlightening.”
Lazar turned to Ciel, who was strolling casually with her arms crossed behind her head. “It was,” he agreed. “I didn’t expect us to learn so much.”
The demon hummed. “So? Now that you’ve got all that knowledge or whatever, what’re you gonna do with it?”
The seraph furrowed his brow, his steps slowing a little. “What do you mean?”
Ciel chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “I’m guessing you didn’t ask all that just to ask.”
“I was curious.” Lazar stared down the street. Three young children were playing a game involving symbols drawn into the dirt with a twig. Given how hard and dusty the street was, the lines were so faint they were barely visible, but that didn’t seem to deter the children at all. Shouts and laughter rang out from the trio as they jumped over the lines and chased after each other, smiles pure and carefree.
This was the sort of sight that Elysium liked to remind seraphs of. While humans were considered inferior to seraphs, they were simultaneously believed to have a certain innocence to them, perhaps in part stemming from their distance to the Light. They were weaker, but devoted, and thus deserving of protection. This was in contrast to demons, who were afforded a bit more caution in regards to their possible strength, but considered reprehensible overall. Neither were true equals.
It was a mindset Lazar hadn’t questioned back then. His own duties hadn’t revolved around interactions with other planes, so he hadn’t thought about it much. There was no time nor need. After falling, though, Lazar found the idea increasingly ill fitting, first with the Abyss and now with the first plane.
“Kane said he and the other Ash Riders would return to Carran in two weeks.” The seraph turned to Ciel again. “When that happens, this village will likely face quite a bit of conflict.”
The flesh eater was silent for a few moments, taking in the words. Then, she snorted.
“You know, you’re so obsessed with not having an opinion on things you don’t even realize what you’re doing.” The demon clicked her tongue and strode forward, stretching her neck to the side. “Well, you do you. I gotta go get my axe first.”
Ciel glanced back, an eyebrow raised. “Woods?” She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the treeline.
The seraph studied the demon for a long moment. Finally, he nodded.
“I’ll meet you there,” he said.