30th of Moon’s Twilight, first month of the year 984:
“It is a pleasure to meet you, esteemed Lord of the Ashen Household, Regent Noct of the Ashen. I feel only the purest joy….”
“Cut the pleasantries, High Mage. I do not require from you words but actions.” Looking at Albestus from head to toe, he continued, “I expect you to live up to your reputation.”
‘Another arrogant Noble, just my luck….’ Bowing, Albestus followed with, “I will do my utmost to carry out your will.”
“Aren’t you skilled at saying what others want to hear….. No matter, here’s your job, if you choose to take it.”
….
“By Eclair, it worked!!” Albestus roared with glee. “Magic Binders are the true way forward, Lord Noct!”
“Do not be so hasty, we still have to iron out some details about the spell.”
“And iron them we will. We must do as swiftly as we are able to.” Returning to look at their new fire spell for forging, he could but let out, “Simply revolutionary!”
“A shame it will be only used for warfare.”
“....” That sentence alone brought back Albestus to land. While it was true it would be best used to melt broken or sub quality tools, it was true as well that it would do the same to a soldier. It only excited metal to fusion temperatures, yes, but soldiers were clad on it.
Sensing his growing unease, Noct sighed and accepted, “Keep it under wraps if you want. Modify it to be as inconspicuous as you can and only sell to craftsmen. Your guild may be able to simply sell it as a forging tool.”
Albestus, stunned, asked, “And the profits?”
Shrugging, Noct answered, “They were yours to begin with. Pick the quantity that lets you sleep at night.”
Albestus nodded, seeing his new contractor under a new light.
…..
“Be gone!” Screamed Noct towards the Woodcutter Guild. “You are hereby disbanded and branded as traitors. Time and time again have I warned you to not harm the forest, yet you keep overcutting and selling the extra supplies for personal profit. No more shall I endure your excesses.”
Albestus felt pity and disgust in equal parts as he overlooked the retreating criminals. Knowing Noct would have already prepared the guards to face the new influx in the dungeons, he asked,
“Our new route of action?”
“Negotiating with the Forest.” Rubbing his temples, he say, more to himself than to Albestus, “Is being something different than a human a crime deserving of death?”
“Dryads have, for the longest time, been considered monsters, my Lord. They gained their reputation…..”
“Defending their homes! For Gods’ sake, Albestus, would you not do the same?”
Realising the fallacy he had fallen in, he tried to defend its thoughts. “Will you let our countrymen die of cold when winter comes, once they have no wood to burn?”
“I will not genocide my Family’s Forest just to be able to cut it down! We had an agreement, we could remake it.”
“Let’s make it so if you are so sure. These conflicts are better resolved before they cool down.” Finally, Albestus agreed.
Nodding, Noct rose before, in a low voice, saying, “Thanks, High Mage Albestus. There’s no need to add sap to my rule’s river of blood. Enough men will die today.”
……
Albestus had fought nails and teeth to not believe the lies of Sorak and Andras. He refused to even cater to the possibility of Noct being an heretic, of being a necromancer. But ideals could not win against facts, and reality was not a forgiving foe.
Noct lied, eyes bloodied and arm burned, after his crimes had been proved.
“What did I do, you ask? I needed power, as simple as that. You both know that I was a regent in name only. I changed that thanks to power, I saved my mother’s legacy thanks to that. I threw away dozens of things, curses be casted upon you both, I never wanted this accursed throne, this, this empty title which it’s only worth was a pedigree I do not care about!!....Not like this anyway.” His brown eyes, slowly turning green, pierced Albestus once they locked bazes. A bit of nausea assaulting Albestus, Noct continued, “If you feel so smart, High Mage, tell me. When have I used my powers for personal gains? When or where have you heard rumours of a necromancer in my lands?”
Gaining furor, Noct continued, “If nothing else, I have cleaned my lands of that scum! I scoured my sister’s birthright, hand to hand with the paladins of Elenia, until not one of them remained here! Tell me, if you are so bra…”
Before he could add more words to his diatribe, Albestus muzzled him in the same way as he had done with Sorak. Those eyes were rattling him to the core, now that he knew what they reflected. He did not want to hear anything more, as he was only hearing it partially and blurred.
“So it is true.” Sadness was palpable in his words. He had not tried to deny it once, shattering Albestus’ false hopes of it being a fluke, an ill intended joke. Turning to Sorak, he dispelled the spell that was stopping her from talking.
“The heretic has talked, High Mage Albestus. Free me. It is an order.” The words of Sorak make the outside look as warm as a tropical summer.
Her words crashed against his fragile emotional state and made him snap. Maybe he was already regretting getting involved.
“Could you, good for nothing zealot, cease your endless fluttering!! He saved your life, for the Golden Lands’ sake!”
Sorak was now the one who snapped.
“And I tried to believe in him! I spent the last weeks holed up in your unholy Guild waiting for him to show up. Do you have an idea of how many divination rituals I casted to try and locate the second undead in the castle!? How much I wanted to believe in the bit of good that I imagined he had left?!” Her chains rattled, “Yet nothing showed up. Every divination aimed at him, time and time again. Yet I believed, I trusted!” I fooled myself into thinking it was some kind of plot of whoever to cause his downfall, maybe simple poisoning!” Calming down, she breathed in and resumed, “He betrayed all of my efforts and expectations, High Mage. He has my trust no more nor was my life, the life of a holy warrior, important enough to pardon an heretic.”
Not knowing how to proceed, he decided to distance himself from the situation. Going back to his desk, he sat on his chair, grabbed a cup, filled it to the brim, and dispelled the spells he had casted on both of them before taking a sip and turning his chair to the other side, not willing to confront who he had started to think of as a friend. Guilt for his betrayal and fury for being lied time and time again clouded his judgement.
Sorak ignited her short sword and rose to her feet, rushing to her foe. A voice interrupted her before she could gain momentum.
“You want my head? So be it. But I have got conditions you are going to adhere to.” Noct didn’t raise his head from his crouched position, nor did he make any moves.
“I do not have to….”
The very air quieting down, Noct interrupted in a low growl, chains lightly rattling, “They are not optional. You can either achieve your mission or die here.”
Sorak took a step back from the sheer pressure, letting Noct think he had her tacit acceptance.
“You will be the one who will accuse me in front of my sister on the day of her coming of age. I will prove my powers to all of Alpin. You will judge me and deal with me as an heretic, with the full approval of the new baroness.”
“What…Do you think I will….” She tried to resume her murderous walk before being stopped again by his words.
“I have been repeating the same thing over and over, paladin. I expected you to remember my vow. I cannot break it and, even if I could, you have no options left.”
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Sorak gripped her short sword with enough force that his right arm started to tremble. “It doesn’t have anything to do with….”
“You are still in denial? Fine.” His hands arising, he started to cast Sacrament again, not looking up. “I swear to not run away, to not act against Sorak without a Surname, High Paladin of Elenia, and to stay in Bonfire until the Coming of Age of my Sister, Soral of the Ashen Household. Once that day comes, I will await the judgement of Sorak without a Surname, High Paladin of Elenia.” Raising his head to look at her, his eyes overflowing with hate, he finished her simple declaration with, “We are done here.”
He got up and headed to the door while healing his burned arm, the holy magic resisting the healing at every step of the process, flaring more pain that his burnt flesh was crying out.
“Wait, I have not given you….”
“Not a word gets out of here. Not even to High Commander Andras and not to Lady Soral of the Ashen.” Those last words and the closing of the door were the only answer she got. After a few seconds she fastened her shield and tried to rush to the door before being interrupted yet again.
“If you do not bend you are going to bathe the city on fire.” Tiredly warned Albestus. The high of the surprise was already over and only guilt remained. ‘What did it matter his particular secret? We all gave one. It was particularly dark, but I never detected anything wrong with this place. I, curses.’ “You got what you want, didn’t you? It is only a matter of time before that heretic, who can now do nothing, meets your justice. Sacrament is, after all, the invention of your church.”
“Are you going to keep shielding….”
“I am shielding you and your Lady!” Albestus got up and slammed his hands on his desk, looking down at her, “If you try to arrest him, how many paladins is going to take? How many will have to die? Let it rest.”
Sorak, calming down, nodded after realising that what Albestus was saying was the truth.
“Now that you have calmed down, get out of my office.”
Surprised at the unusual curtness of Albestus, she jumped a bit. She had never seen him so angry.
“Now!”
Not wanting to make two enemies today, she rapidly walked out of the room.
After a few minutes, he fell onto his chair again and grabbed the cup before violently throwing it to nowhere in particular. It crashed and broke against a wall, spilling liquor and shards everywhere.
‘I, I have betrayed my Lord. Nether take me, everything he said was right. Does being a necromancer negate all I know about his personality? Does it undoes all he has worked to achieve and achieved? Today’s Noct was the same as yesterday’s. Is a secret the only thing my loyalty could withstand?...Shameful.’
He wanted to scream, but he had already dispelled the silence buried he had casted when Noct had entered. Looking at his hands, he grabbed the badger he had proudly pinned in his tunic.
‘...My most sincere congratulations….’.
Albestus clenched it in his fist, ‘....It’s true that old saying that you learn a new thing everyday, for I have learned a thing about myself tonight. I am as snake and traitorous as the central nobles.’ It had surprised him severely, yes, but he had started to pride himself in his newfound loyalty, only to throw it aside when the ship started to rock.
Shaking his head, he reminisced about the things that he could have done better before deciding something drastic. He would jump back onto the ship again, no matter what it took. Broken trust is difficult to repair, and he would walk back the path all over again.
Regretting his new determination had arrived half an hour late, he, nonetheless, bowed.
In the room next door, Jil started to write a missive. He took no pride in his work, and he had come to like his discussions with Albestus. ‘Money is money, and it will buy me a palace!’ Tried to convince himself. The work had arrived almost when they had returned from the Duchess, an angry nobleman he guessed. Still, he expected to get a few more coins’ bags from this bombshell. Lord Noct of the Ashen, a necromancer! He was already salivating at his new riches.
…………….
‘She dared to attack me in broad light, in the office of my own vassal. I bet the plot of the light spell was hers as well. I should tear her limb from limb, I still can turn back, I should turn back.’ Fighting against himself, Noct limped towards the castle. The little fight had done little to cure him of his exhaustion. Remembering the look of fear his alchemist friend had given him days before, he controlled his wandering gaze towards the new farming spots outside the city, fearing the notion of rumours that could be running amok around the barony.
Crossing the gates, paranoia made him side-eye all of the new guards, loyalists of the plot of Sorak he could have sworn. ‘I have an army, I can just drench this place in blood. Recruit my nation of skeletons, run to the north. Survive.’ Changing his route to not pass near the alchemist shop, he arrived at the castle and, crossing the outer gates, he found two of the people he wanted to see less.
“Lord Noct?” Asked a startled Andras, who rushed to aid the Lord who looked as if he would fall anytime. Mulia followed closely behind.
“I’m fine, High Commander Andras.” ‘He is in, I would bet both of my hands. The maid should be in too. That’s why she started to work in the castle. I was right all along!’ Not daring to stay near them in fear of his inner monologue getting the better of him, he tried to act as usual. “Did you require something?”
Mulia, who had finally had enough after weeks of continuous worry, exploded, “I require you to rest for a day, is that so much to ask, Lord Noct?!”
As she got close to him to support him, he acted up and distanced himself from her after knocking her arms away. “Do not rule over me, High Maid. That is my job.”
“She is just worried, my Lord. Pardon her for the offence at my expense if you need to.” Tried to defuse Andras, after catching a surprised, and hurt, Mulia.
“No need. I will humour her and rest in my chambers.” Looking at her, he ordered, “Everything else can wait, right? Do not let me be disturbed.”
“Eh, yes!”
…………..
“How’s my brother?” Asked Soral. After having a week to calm down after their fight from last week, she had started to heavily miss their evenings together, even if she hated herself for that. The guilt had remained too, and the last missive from the Duchess had only added wood to the fire.
This week she had seldom seen her brother. If he was not training outside he was hiding in his room, a thing that was starting to concern her. She had been trying to remember her hate for her brother, not that the last image of his haggard figure evoked anything more than pity. Every time she tried to convince herself, new memories from this half a year keep surfacing, making her job harder than it had to be.
“Do not worry, lady Soral. He is fine, better than before, if I can reassure you.” Answered a relaxed Mulia. They had grown closer now that Soral was willing to put work behind their relationship, and now could be considered almost friends.
“Thank the Gods.” Tentatively said Soral, knowing she shouldn't be feeling relieved with the news.
A new arrival dispelled the slightly grim atmosphere, as Samil trotted over to them and called out to Soral, “Lady Soral, da- High Commander Andras is waiting for us!”
Her face brightening up, she answered, “Lead the way. Goodsbye Mulia.”
Meanwhile, at Soral’s room, Eve was searching the room for evidence for the third time that week. This time it was bothering to check for illusion magic, a thing it had deemed far beyond Soral’s capabilities.
And, as if the Gods were laughing at its earlier hubris, it found what it had been looking for almost as soon as it started. Grabbing a dozen missives, it started to whistle as it turned into gas and returned to its room with the proof.
After arriving at it, Eve could not contain its glee after seeing the phylactery it had coerced out of Thumb 7. The fool had negotiated this invaluable gem just to save face from his boss, the pinnacle of foolishness. Starting to sing a lullaby Noct used to sing at them in their early years, Eve felt invincible after securing a plan Z in case everything went very wrong.
He would get angry after discovering it had started to act on its own and tried to help him in fighting its underground war. Nonetheless, it knew it would be forgiven, it always was.
………………
That night Sorak was sitting on a bench in a park. Wearing a heavy coat of fur, she did not mind the bit of the cold of a winter night. Against all of her expectations, she had come to like the bastard, if only a bit. Half a year was not a long amount of time by any means but it had been enough.
‘Elenia forgive me, but I will miss the heretic. We may have had our many, many misgivings but he had been a passable lord, if nothing else he was competent. At least the future of the barony is safe, her sister hasn’t been twisted by power and will rule as fairly as anyone would be able to.’.
Looking at her broken sword, she could but remember the several sparring sessions they had had after the first one. ‘How could a warrior turn to necromancy?’ She asked towards the night sky. It didn’t answer, nor would it.
Resting her hand in the pommel of her now broken sword, desiring its backing, she got up and returned to her quarters. She still didn’t know why she hadn’t leaked the secret yet.
………………
Soral knocked again on his brother’s room door. Clutching the documents and papers she had accumulated, she wanted to revise them with a seasoned lord. It was an excuse, but one she believed. She knew her brother wouldn’t, couldn’t, get away now after the Duchess had convinced her to poison him. She had gathered enough evidence about his plans to run away on the day of the ceremony, with the help of a team of undeads he had birthed, and help the Hands’ plot to escalate the revolt to a full out civil war with the Empire’s support.
And Soral had mentally prepared herself too much to turn back now. At least she could make his last days inconspicuous. For, even if he had betrayed her again, she had come to appreciate the time she spent with him, and there was little of it left. Trying to forget about it all at least for tonight, she knocked again.
“Enter.”
Arming herself of valour, she faked her usual endemanour and opened the door.
“You look horrible. Not even a vacation can help, huh?” Cringed Soral. If that was better she worried about what meaning had worse in Mulia’s vocabulary. He looked like he had aged fifteen years, and his hair had started to grey out.
“What did you require?” Noct, as usual, didn’t raise his graze from the book he had been writing on.
“What else, to remind you of your word of helping me rule this realm.” Boldly claimed Soral, gulping down her new found worry.
Now Noct rose his head to meet her. For a few seconds, they did not say a word. ‘Am I still going to help my killer?’
Closing the book, Noct softened and said, “Fine. After all, it would be a shame to not groom you into a great ruler. What did you have doubts about?”
As if a shadow had lifted from her, she hurried to present him with her questions. She did not realise the sigh of relief that had escaped her lips.
……………….