Ah crap. This is a question I’ve been asking myself! How did Green ever earn his loyalty? Arlet’s father served under Baron Green’s father, that has to be part of it… But is that the whole story? No… Arlet left to train in the capital when he achieved level three champion status and showed everyone his skill at the ripe old age of six years old. Ah! I need time to think!

“Why fight against me now? Greenwood Barony needs us, if either of us fall today many more civilians will die.” Prodded Liam.

“I do not fear death.” Answered Arlet.

That doesn’t answer the question at all! Wait, that phrase… It sounds so familiar when it comes from Arlet’s lips. As if he had heard it somewhere important. At the royal academy of war maybe? Why can’t I remember? Cmon Green, give me your memories you stodgy old man-whore!

Liam rubbed his temples with one hand, realizing that some shred of Green kept certain memories hidden.

A memory so important that Green kept it from me. Cmon Green, open up, if Arlet kills us you die too! If you’re in here, Arlet is pointing a sword at us and he looks completely convinced that I am not Green.

No new memories entered his mind, spurring Liam to probe Arlet for information.

“Your father was a faithful retainer, so our bond of trust started there. Or rather, Green’s bond with you. I am not the William Ethan Green you once knew.” He said, hoping to goad Arlet into revealing something —anything— he could use.

“You aren’t him at all!” Snapped Arlet.

“If you really believed that, I would be lying in a pool of blood by now.” Answered Liam automatically.

He clasped a hand over his mouth. Shocked at uncanny confidence in these circumstances.

“Damn skinwalker! I’ll never forgive you. Now answer me!” Snarled Arlet, his muscles bulging with lethal intent.

Yet, he hesitated, staying his blade from the killing blow. Liam had heard enough, raising one hand to his throat he flicked away Arlet’s blade. The champion wanted answers, not blood.

“Skinwalker? Don’t lump me in with these monsters!” Snapped Liam.

“You had no right to pilfer-”

“YOUR GOD HAD NO RIGHT!” Screamed Liam.

“Therun Precum Tummyache or whatever his pissing name is, killed my wife. Oh, but that wasn’t enough for him. Oh no no nooo. He made sure I knew she was dead. Then he killed me too. Robbed me of my whole bloody life! Then the cut-rate electrician dumped me into this worthless body!” Shouted Liam,pounding on his chest.

“I stole nothing. I ask no forgiveness because I have done nothing wrong! You are acting like I chose this life! I was twenty three! Medical school was in front of me! My whole life was ahead of me!” Shouted Liam.

Confusion and shock crossed the captain’s face as Liam shouted at him. Tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

“Do you even know the blasphemy you speak? The church would exile you, they would send knights to crucify the entire barony if they heard you.” Pleaded Arlet.

That brought a laugh to Liam’s throat, a grim humorless chuckle.

“As if they could. I am one of your oh sooo special Lightning Lords. Let the church send their knights, we could use the men.” Sneered Liam.

“You cannot go before the king with that attitude! He will kill you! Nyota will be vivisected for her magic and I will die fighting at your side! How can you say you care when you lead us all to our deaths?” Demanded Arlet.

Liam met Arlet’s glare, understanding his wrath, this angst had been building since the lightning strike, lying dormant until it fermented into a poison. One that tainted Arlet’s noble spirit.

This is going nowhere, if I can’t remember I may have to kill Arlet… My lightning will do it… But… Can I live with the consequences?

Gears and cogs spun in Liam’s borrowed mind. Memories long since sealed away were suddenly available, sweeping him away from the command post and deep into his thoughts. Green finally surrendered the last bastion of his body, a secret so well hidden Liam never knew it was there. Green sacrificed the last vestige of his soul to save the only man he ever called a friend.

—

Green strode with a young lady on each arm. Their faces were blurry— lost to the ravages of time and alcohol. White marble corridors surrounded the trio, interspersed with extravagant pillars and suits of armour. The royal coat of arms hung at the end of the hall, wreathed in gold, marking this as the academy of war. A college for young nobles and aspiring champions.

Green let the women guide him through the halls, listening to their vapid tales of court drama. Not caring who the future Duke Hamilton snubbed, intentionally or not. But the women cared, so he spent their time feeding them just enough attention to keep them hooked. Both were second daughters of knights —starving for attention— and neither would willingly reject his company. Conclusively taking the chase out of Green’s sails, since these two women were easy lays. Ultimately boring him.

Soon he would vanish from their lives, leaving them just as he left the others. He did not fear reprisals from their families, his impotence guaranteed there would be no bastards to prove their indiscretion.

As the trio rounded a corner the corridor opened on one side, revealing one of the many courtyards that served as training grounds for martial combat. Four men in plate armour surrounded a single unarmored opponent. His young body already bearing a dozen nicks and bruises. Four against one was a common enough training method for aspiring champions, but drawing blood was not. Immediately souring Green’s mood.

“Eugh. Violence is so distasteful, not to mention four on one seems unsightly. What do you think ladies? Shall I intervene and save this poor man?” Said Green with a magnanimous air.

“Those five? Oh lord Green, they are just training, let these boys play with their swords.” Said the woman on his right, clutching his arm as if she wanted to play with his sword instead.

“See there, an instructor is watching.” Said the other girl, pulling on Green’s arm like a petulant child.

Across the courtyard stood a gaggle of students and a uniformed knights that served as an instructor. He wore a look of disgust, but held his ground. Restrained from intervening by some force invisible to Green.

The girls pulled him two steps forward, bringing another figure into view. In the courtyard stood a round teen, wearing clothes that must have been especially tailored to fit his large girth. While holding a crystal identical to the one that had nearly killed Nyota.

Is this a duel of honour…? No… Those are fully grown knights, four against one is difficult, but four champions vs a single man? That’s nigh impossible. That instructor should be stopping them, but he isn’t…

Wait, I recognize that boy… Thought Green.

Arlet, the level 8 champion, was surrounded by —lower level— knights. Green’s intuition warned that some sordid affair was playing before his eyes. Yet he saw an opportunity he could not miss, dragging the ladies to a stop he stared across the courtyard.

If it were anyone other than Arlet I could’ve ignored this… But his old man died for mine… ugh…

“He has a slave crystal in his hand and that sneer on his face tells me he is enjoying that man’s pain. No my fair ladies, I beg your forgiveness but I cannot allow this malevolence to continue.” Said Green, shaking free of the two women.

Striding across the courtyard, he confidently advanced on the young noble. Green appreciated the man’s clothes, noting with a hint of jealousy that fine silver wire had been woven into his cuirass. An embellishment that was the height of modern fashion in the capital. The thin silver wire sparkled in the morning light and complimented the absurd golden hilt of a sword on his hip. He bore no insignia, but the four armored men hinted that he was a noble of high standing, or an upstart.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Gentlemen, that is quite enough.” He said, stopping in front of the noble.

“Piss off you backwater blowhard. Can’t you see I am a Viscount! Begone with you.” Sneered the boy.

His face reminded Liam of someone. Round and pudgy, with baby-fat in his cheeks. A uniquely punchable face. Hey, that gives me a thought.

Baron Green took two awkward steps forward, pulling his arm back on the first step before he brought it rocketing forward with the second. His fist connected squarely with the young Viscount’s nose. It broke with an audible spray of blood and snot, making the armored knights spin in shock and earning a chuckle from Arlet.

The boy staggered backwards. Falling onto his arse. Liquid pain rolled down his cheeks, a deliciously undignified grimace for a teen who had been overtly cocky only a moment ago.

“I’m a Viscount” Parroted Green, mocking the man openly. “Obviously! We are all nobles here numbskull. I have issued my challenge, name your champion, unless you wish to wield gilded spoons against me, in which case I must surrender to your greater experience.” Demanded Green, poking the ‘viscount’ in his belly-fat.

Green’s finger nearly disappeared, making Green feel a twinge of guilt for having sucker punched ‘Viscount Marshmallow’.

“My lord!” Said one of the knights, rushing to his master’s aid.

“Bah, you pissants! fools! Why do I even pay you if you can’t keep me safe? Get him! All of you!” He shrieked.

The largest of the four armored knights stepped forward, slowly menacing Green. Who saw the hesitation in the knight’s eyes, despite his bullish muscles and seven feet of manhood.

Looks more like a werewolf than a human. Thought Green.

“An excellent choice of a champion.” Barked Green, hoping he hadn’t just made a critical error. “Arlet! Yes you with the bloody shirt. Your father served mine, do not dishonor his memory by losing to this curr.” Said Green, waving his hand dismissively, as if Arlet’s acceptance and his victory were predestined.

Young Arlet glared at him, looking like he was about to tear out Green’s throat.

“I do not fear death, your help is unnecessary.” Spat Arlet.

“As if I would participate! Ha, champions fight for nobles, not alongside us, now hop to it, you’ll have to fight for both of us.” Laughed Green.

“Hey, you can’t use him! That’s cheating!” Whined the Viscount.

“Instructor! Yes you!” Shouted Liam, calling out the man across the courtyard.

“Will you nullify my challenge?”

The instructor balled his hands into fists, knowing he had no avenue to escape his responsibilities now.

“That’s instructor Gaius Borgia to you, Baron Green. The viscount in waiting has named a champion, I cannot interfere in a matter of honour this late. Though it seems in poor taste to appoint a champion without armor.” Said instructor Borgia.

Murmurs from the two women behind Green caught the instructor’s notice, making the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as he saw the looks on their faces. Green was just as trapped by honour as the Viscount. The viscount used his handkerchief to clean his face, smearing blood and snot across his tender nose.

“Arlet is no mere knight playing champion, he possesses the divine class! Taloc himself granted that blessing. To deny him a challenge would be to deny God’s will. Give us a sign to begin.” Said Green, smiling as he saw the hope in the instructor’s eyes vanish.

Gaius Borgia’s face turned red, his jaw worked as he realized he had been outmaneuvered.

“Champions, this duel of honor will proceed until one of you yields, now, BEGIN!” He shouted.

Green did not see the combatants move, nor did he care. His attention shifted to the faceless ladies. That punch had gotten his blood pumping, reinvigorating his interest in the carnal pleasures they offered. Without a care, Green turned his back on the duel, restarting his conversation with the two women. They were defeated with a flurry of compliments and a final —indecent— proposal.

“Oh my! Baron Green, your Champion…” Blurted a girl, covering her mouth with a pale hand.

Green looked over his shoulder and saw Arlet’s bloody face. One knee planted in the ground, with droplets of blood running down his face. His forehead had been slashed open and the wound dribbled blood over his face. Arlet raised one hand to staunch the bleeding against his forearm, staining the academy’s uniform beyond repair. Baron Green turned to behold the other champion, finding that he fared no better. His head lay in the grass, separated from the rest of his body.

“Ah, good work. Since you lost I’ll be taking that crystal as my prize.” Said Green, heading for Viscount Marshmallow.

“I’ll kill you myself.” He whispered, reaching for his sword.

Green froze, a spark of terror kindling into a flame at the thought of having to fight for his life.

“Shut up Blackwood, Arlet has achieved a decisive victory, a slave or two is a light purse for such a duel.” Ordered instructor Borgia. “You ought not have killed his retainer Arlet, if you kill any students the academy will have to levy sanctions against your house or expel you.”

Viscount Marshmallow stared daggers at Borgia, grinding his teeth in defiance. One of his three remaining knights knelt and whispered something to the viscount. A flash of primal terror crossed his face and he dropped the crystal, pivoting and retreating from the arena.

Arlet snatched the crystal, retreating behind Baron Green with his prize.

“Slavery is for those who cannot earn the loyalty of the people they serve. Thus I have no use for this.” Said Green, mocking Marshmallow and making the ladies flush.

“Arlet, dispose of that crystal, sell the slaves or set them free, your choice.” Said Green, feigning magnanimity as he slid a hand around each woman’s waist.

“How generous.” Said one.

“Viscount who can’t count on his loyal retainers.” Jeered the other.

—

The memory faded from his mind. Bringing Liam to the present where a much stronger captain Arlet was watching him. Sword point swaying restlessly inside the empty command post.

“That slave crystal, all those years ago. Who was it for?” he asked.

“What? You don’t remember… How could you remember the crystal and not the slaves?” Gasped Arlet.

“It was yours to do with as you pleased. You earned it. I, well, Green just gave you the opportunity for a fair fight.” Shrugged Liam.

Arlet dropped his sword, falling to his knees as this revelation flew across decades to stab him in the heart.

“My father died defending yours! Mom did everything but the pension wasn’t enough. She sold herself into slavery to pay tuition, but Blackwood tricked her. Once she put on the collar he demanded my sister as well. Wouldn’t pay for the tuition until he got her too.” Tears were streaming down the champion’s face.

“They never told me!” He howled.

Kinda obvious why not, Thought Liam. They knew you would challenge Blackwood to a duel and get at least one member of your family tortured. Be it you or them…

“They hid their collars and lied when I came home. Handed me the money and said you had invested in my future! A loan- until Blackwood found me at the academy and…”

“Told you what she had done, Blackwood is a mean-spirited cretin, I have no doubt he lorded their safety over you.” Finished Liam.

Arlet clawed at Liam’s pants, a sniveling mess unfit to be called a man, let alone a knight.

“Give him back to me! Baron Green, come back to us. Come back to me! Please!”

He struggled to his feet, grasping Liam around the shoulders and furiously shaking him in some misplaced hope that he could shock Green out of Liam.

“That hurts, stop.” Said Liam, unable to hold any malice in his heart.

“Never! Not until you give me back my lord!” Cried Arlet.

Liam could see the hopelessness in his captain’s eyes, glistening with the desire to repay a debt long overdue. With a long sigh Liam channeled his mana, exerting every ounce of control to form the smallest bolt ever to exist. He caught Arlet’s arms, holding the stronger man immobile for a brief instant as he closed his eyes, picturing the bolt diffusing across Arlet’s skin.

Arlet jerked in surprise, yelping as the electricity pulsed through his body. Muscles spasmed as he collapsed onto the floor under Liam’s impromptu taser.

“Green is gone, I have his memories but none of his urges or impulses. If you cannot accept his death then you are relieved. Take whatever compensation you desire and leave Greenwood, take your family as well, I hear Duke Hamilton or King Aldric hire champions.” Said Liam.

“What will you do after…” Asked Arlet, voice fading mid sentence.

“Die, most likely… Indeed, losing you will cripple us. Rhendal will have to portal us to the capital tomorrow.”

“You cannot take an uncollared cat before the king!” Warned Arlet.

“Lady Nyota is my wife, I will not allow her to be collared for any reason, be it man, King, or God.”

“What will you do when the king insults her?”

“King Aldric is a wealthy man, the wealthiest king in centuries, if he denies us aid, then he will reveal himself as the portal master. Should that circumstance arise I’ll appeal to the court, if the king forbids them, then I will slay him.” Said Liam.

“The royal guard would never allow that to stand!”

“As if they could stop a Lightning Lord! They might strike me down, but dying in his throne room would be a merciful end for Nyota and I. Our deaths would only mean my land was free for the claiming. Greedy nobles would send soldiers to claim our towns.”

“You are a damned fool! You would die for our people?” Sobbed Arlet.

“We’re already starving, dying here or dying there, what difference does it make Arlet?” Asked Liam.

The champion covered his face, knowing any further debate was futile.

“Quetzalcoatl, the divine serpent of lightning granted me a vision of my death, and of my rebirth in a distant land of white sands.” Said Liam.

“You’ve gone mad! That’s pure insanity!” Cried Arlet.

“Follow me on the path of sorrows and woe, be my champion until the end, and then follow Nyota. You will not be disappointed, let me earn your trust once more.” Asked Liam, extending his hand to Arlet.

Arlet looked at it for a moment. Then slowly, he shook his head, rising on his own strength to vacate the command post.

Well shitte... I really hoped that would have gone better.