Chapter 24
Changes
Sylas spent a few weeks unwinding, resetting the loop on the day of Baron's arrival, and then spending days leading up to it doing… nothing. He needed time to process what he had seen, to measure his worth—or lack thereof—against it, and to regain the confidence to walk up to random strangers and, without knowing whether they're capable of leveling a whole castle, try and manipulate and goad them into doing what he wanted them to do.
It was a tall task, and though he wasn’t a terribly short man, he wasn’t tall either. Spending days in such a way, however, wasn’t bad—ever so often. He’d continued practicing reading and writing, and had gotten fairly good at it, actually. He could almost go through a whole chapter of a book without scratching his head over what a word meant.
As such, he read a lot—mostly on the history of things. It was a good reminder, though, as to why he never took to history back on Earth—it was painfully dry, stale, and boring. Pages upon pages of things that were no doubt amazing to live out, but were also impossible to read thoroughly. There was, in fact, an entire chapter dedicated to just listing out the early types of architecture. And the chapter was around two hundred pages long, covering roughly eighty years of material.
All the same, he became a slightly learned man—finally understanding that Ethernia and the surrounding Kingdoms didn't subscribe to the absolute monarchy, but were more theological in their make where the Kings and Queens were usually either the spiritual or physical leaders of nature—the most learned or the strongest. In fact, there was a law in place that enabled everyone—even commoners—to challenge the King directly to a duel for the crown.
Nobody having done it in hundreds of years notwithstanding, the fact that it was still there meant something. Just not for him.
On occasion, he would brush up on his swordsmanship, but couldn’t really push it forward due to his body. Realizing that he had pretty much tapped out the current loop for all its worth, having done it over at least fifty times by now, Sylas decided it was time to move on—and the only way forward was to try and convince the Baron a few times and, if he still fails, he’ll just go with the original timeline in which he told Valen everything.
He sat and waited patiently inside the chambers for the Baron to arrive—but something was different, right off the bat. The Baron was nearly ten minutes late and he didn’t send his family away. They all entered, with the woman still chirping on and on about the lukewarm welcome. Cyrs countenance was dispirited, his eyes void of anything but perceived agony. He was like a husk of a dying man, his soul already ripped from his chest, leaving behind the expiring carcass.
“AAAH!!” the woman screamed in panic as she was the first one to spot Sylas. The latter ignored her entirely and focused on the Baron who, seemingly against his wishes, stood up and took out a sword, pointing it at him. “W-who are you?!! How dare a mere guard come here?! I shall have you beheaded for this!”
“Send them out,” Sylas spoke to Baron directly, ignoring the others. “So we can chat about the walls.”
“W-what… what is he talking about? Are you ignoring me, peasant?! How dare you—”
“Leave.” Crys said, his eyes having widened for a moment in shock.
“Y—huh? You… you want me to leave?”
“Yes. Leave us alone.”
“But—”
“Leave us!” Ah, there it was! The classic Cyrs roar, one that had immediately sewn the woman's lips shut. Without tarrying, everyone except Sylas and the Baron left, leaving the two to stare at each other in silence for a long while before the Baron broke it. "You were the reason the invasion failed?" Something is way off… Sylas frowned inwardly. This wasn’t the Baron he met before—rather than defensive, he seemed entirely relieved when he said that.
“Many men who fought and died are the reason,” Sylas said. “I just afforded them a chance.”
“… thank you, then. For the chance,” Cyrs said, sitting down and putting the sword away. “If you’ve come for my head, at the very least afford me the courtesy to write out my will. I know I don’t deserve it, but all I can do is ask.”
“I haven’t come for your head, Baron Cyrs,” Sylas said. “I’ve come to offer you a path to salvation.”
“A path to salvation?” the Baron crackled strangely for a moment, shaking his head as he looked at Sylas. “There is no salvation for me, boy. What I had done… men, great men, men far better than me, have been beheaded for far less.”
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“Nobody else knows,” Sylas said. “Except for me.”
“I know,” the Baron interrupted immediately. “That’s more than enough.”
“… was your evil so great that it cannot be wiped by anything? No,” Sylas’ hopes grew. This version of Baron, however he came to be the way he was, could be worked with, he realized. “You were wronged, and in a single, misjudged call… you made a mistake.”
“A mistake? You call what I did a mistake?”
“What else was it?” Sylas pressured, sitting down opposite of the man and smiling lightly. “You want to see the way I look at this? It’s simple—they took advantage of you. But whether you agreed to it or not, they would have found a way. Evil always does, Baron. Perchance, if it was someone else and not you, it might have ended up being even worse. That guilt gnawing away at your heart… do not use it as means of armoring up in your self-pity. You see, I have a goal—a grand, foolish goal that the world would laugh at me for. But if I can gather by my side men like you, I am certain we could change the world.
“Would your sin still, in that distant future, when you have saved countless more lives, still weigh as much as a mountain? Perhaps. But, at least, you’d have the arms of heavens above lifting that mountain for you, singing the hymns.”
“… you are no guard,” the Baron chuckled suddenly, pouring the two of them a cup of wine each. “Who are you, truly? Your eloquence… stirred my heart, I must say.”
“You’re likely yet to learn,” Sylas said, realizing this was the moment—that he had to play all his cards and latch onto the opportunity. “But the man who saved the castle… is the Sixth Prince, Valen.”
“The… Sixth Prince? But isn’t he…” the Baron appeared shocked at the news, his eyes widening.
“No,” Sylas said. “He breathes. And he will continue to breathe, I will make sure of that. Valen is a good man—you likely know him as your librarian.”
“Boy!! That’s right! The resemblance… I… I just never thought too much about it…”
“But good men on their own aren’t enough, Baron,” Sylas said. “In the world commandeered by darkness, light can only shine so brightly before it’s extinguished. Every shining star like the Prince needs to cast countless shadows to guard him.”
“So, you are asking me now to sin in the name of the Prince instead?” Cyrs scoffed.
“No,” Sylas once again shook his head. “I only ask you to be by his side and to advise him. You are far more learned in the muddy waters than he is.”
“And that is my path to salvation?”
“I can only show you the path, Cyrs,” Sylas said. “Not sketch it out for you. By the Prince’s side, you will have countless opportunities to make changes, most for the better. It’s up to you to take them.”
"… men promise stars," the Baron said, taking a sip of the wine. "And never deliver. My King promised me a just trial. My friends—or people who I thought were my friends—promised to stand by my side, to even rebel if they were unheard. So, oh so many promises, young one. Yours… yours is an echo. A grand one, yes, but an echo. If the Prince is truly here, I shall turn myself in and accept my fate."
“I can’t figure whether you’re a man of honor or just simply a coward,” Sylas sighed, taking a sip himself.
“A little bit of both, I suppose,” Cyrs chuckled. “But mostly just a coward. I took the deal that sounded like it would change my life once. And look at where it brought me.”
“To me,” Sylas said. “It brought you to me.”
“It brought me to my knees and—”
“Life never hands us something we cannot handle," Sylas said. "It was in your cards to be wrung by the fate, left and right, before meeting me. To see, touch, and experience the darkest of the human heart. Because you now understand, Cyrs. You understand what breaks a man… and what a broken man will resort to on just the promise that he will be whole again. And that is where you begin. Where you begin your new journey, the journey of finding the pieces of yourself that you've left alongside the road and putting yourself whole again. I can give you that—and I can give it to you without needing you to kill. I swear on my name, today, that I shall never ask of you to take another’s life.”
“And if you do?”
"I won't," Sylas repeated. "I know my word rings hollow to the ears that have bled, but… it is all I have. A life taken is a life wasted. I could have just as easily turned you in, but why waste the life of a man with so much potential?"
“…” Cyrs looked deeply into the strange man’s eyes. He was… swayed. He didn’t think it possible, but he was swayed.
When he saw the castle walls standing upon his return… he cried. Cried out of joy. He didn’t know how, or why, and he didn’t care—he was beyond joyous that they stood. That everyone he knew didn’t die. He swore upon the sight that he would go to the capital and confess his sins before the Throne and the Crown and accept whatever would come his way. And yet… he was swayed.
The man’s words were like a perfect symphony, and even though he wanted to walk away… it kept reeling him back in. Over and over and over, until he could only stand rooted in place, listening. It wasn’t just the words, it was the conviction and the look in the man’s eyes—as someone who’s seen most of what’s there to see, Cyrs still was taken aback by the gaze of purity. The man wasn’t lying. He truly believed in everything he was saying.
“The Prince won’t forgive me,” hearing that, Sylas sighed in relief inwardly. Caught you, bitch. Hell yeah!
“It’s a good thing, then, that he won’t need to.”
“You won’t tell him? What if he finds out?”
“We’ll cross that bridge once we get to it,” Sylas shrugged, not caring for anything else now that he had reeled the Baron in. “For now, you should go and visit him. Don’t tell him about our meeting.”
“… very well,” Cyrs paused for a moment before putting the cup down and standing up. “I pray your words weren’t empty. I truly do.”
“…” Sylas merely smiled as he watched the man leave. As soon as the doors closed, he slumped in the chair and practically melted as the sweat began pouring out. He felt like he had been walking on needles throughout the entire conversation, and that just one misspoken word could have led him elsewhere entirely. Just as he was about to go wash himself up, a window popped up in front of him.
New save point, ‘New Friends’ has been initialized
Would you like to overwrite your previous save location, ‘New Dawn’?
YES / NO