Note: The extra chapter I promised you all will be released tomorrow. XD
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Blades in the Dark
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“It’s been barely two months since the Herald of Bloody Murders was glaring at me,” whispered the weary young man who gazed up at a sky bathed in bright silver hues. “So, now it’s your turn, o’ Mistress of Curious Mysteries…?”
Only the blue moon was visible of the twin moons that usually lit up the night. It was full and glowing fiercely like the bright eye of a goddess observing the ground with a gaze filled with mystery and promise…the promise that a great change would come tonight.
“You’re too late. Change has already come…”
Others who saw this portent of possible fortunes were eager to leave their homes so they might bask in the blue moon’s pale light. Whether commoner or noble, they stepped outdoors in search of revelries and adventures that could only arrive on such a night as this. The young man who stood watching from behind the parapet of his bastion’s southern wall was no different, except his mood was considerably sour compared to the people below who were dancing and drinking in the streets as if a festival had come unbidden to the city—which it had.
Certainly, the knighting ceremony of a high noble was something to celebrate, but the rumors of what occurred inside the Oaken Hall had quickly spread across Bastille so that its people couldn’t help but celebrate the new star shining brightly on their fair city.
“They cheer for Rowan like they never have for me…”
Bram recalled the moment when the ‘change’ happened for him; the redheaded maiden he’d knighted surrounded by his peers who’d cheered Rowan for her show of strength, the handsome young knight standing at her side, the high nobles who gazed at her with admiration and desire…
“There was no place for me to step in…”
With all eyes turned away from him, Bram had managed to slip away from the Oaken Hall without anyone noticing. He escaped to the quiet of the walkway along the parapet leading to the bastion’s southern tower where he now held court in grim solitude.
One or two guards passed him by, but apart from a salute, none of them had stopped to talk with their governor whose brooding look brooked no trespassers.
“No one even noticed that I’d left…”
This thought stung him most. For he’d secretly hoped that she at least would have noticed and chased after him. Of course, Bram didn’t know that his uncle had challenged his champion because he’d left the hall before Vicomte Conrad spoke up. He only learned of Rowan’s duel with an actual swordmaster after he’d overheard two passing guards whispering about it earlier.
“This many sa thoughts could inspire a song…if only I was in the mood for a tune.”
Speaking of guards, Bram just realized that it had been a while since one of them passed, and that shouldn’t be the case.
He tore his gaze away from the city below—the people celebrating Rowan’s victory over Vicomte Conrad—and turned to the left side of the parapet.
The walkway was empty except for him.
His gaze drifted right.
“Where have the guards gone…?”
The light of the watchtower to his right was unlit, and that only occurred when there was no sorcerer present to fuel its flame, which was never supposed to happen.
That’s when he noticed the quiet.
Bram’s gaze drifted back to the parapet’s edge and the city below. The revelries continued, but he could no longer hear clinking glass or boisterous laughter. He could still hear his breath though, suggesting that external sound had been blocked out for a malicious purpose.
“Curious.”
WARNING! [Cone of Silence] has been cast around you!
WARNING! [Veiled Scenery] has been cast around you!
As he read the notification floating in the air, an eerie chill climbed up Bram’s spine. It heralded the billowing wind pressing against his back. It was such a familiar feeling that he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder and seeing the four hooded figures who’d just landed on the parapet to his right as if they’d floated down from the top of the tower behind them.
“Ah, I see…”
Their hoods were wide and deep to keep their faces veiled, but the pristine white armor worn by the one standing at their head was unmistakable. He was a knight of the White Rose, the order of assassins who’d tried to assassinate Bram twice but failed to do so both times.
“This is a familiar scene…” Bram spoke with a confident tone. “But I see only one member of the White Rose among you… Not enough of you left in Lotharin, I take it?”
It wasn’t simple bravado egging him on. Though anxiety was growing inside his chest, Bram couldn’t help feeling a little excited too. At the very least, these would-be assassins provided a distraction from the awkward feelings that fueled his melancholy. More importantly, Bram recognized that he was different from the man he was back when he’d first face the White Rose outside the Cursed Cave.
HEALTH POINTS (HP): 320 MAGIC POINTS (MP): 15 STAMINA POINTS (SP): 450
Bram stared down the hooded figures who’d come to kill him while also reviewing his status to ensure he was ready for his version of a ‘Showing of Mettle.’
STRENGTH: 45 DEXTERITY: 20 CONSTITUTION: 32 INTELLIGENCE: 17 WISDOM: 13 WILLPOWER: 15
Certainly, he could have summoned the trickster to his side. Even with this sorcery keeping anyone from noticing what was about to happen, she could surely find her way to him if he called. Only, Bram didn’t call for Rowan, not just because he imagined—though unproven—that there was a possibility she might not leave the Oaken Hall where the nobles were fawning over her, but because he didn’t want her help.
She’s had her Showing of Mettle… It’s my turn.
Bram’s attributes had nearly doubled since his fight with Baer and his cohorts. It was a true sign of his growth, though he wasn’t sure this much growth would be enough to battle a knight of the White Rose…one whom he recognized.
“You should have brought more people”—Bram unclipped Dusk from his belt with his right hand—“Vicomte Henry.”
The hooded figure in the white armor stiffened while one of his three companions stepped back in surprise.
“Yes,” Bram grinned impishly at his would-be murderers, “I can see you…”
The knight’s stout form wasn’t enough to reveal who he was, but unfortunately for the Vicomte, a hood was not enough to fool the Loom.
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Vicomte Henry Kleist
The tag that appeared briefly over his hood was orange. For Bram, that meant dueling Vicomte Henry wasn’t an impossible task. It wouldn’t have mattered even if his tag was red, for the prince had every intention of testing himself against these foes who’d arrived exactly when he needed to hit something. Besides, he’d once challenged a nymph with a red tag before and survived the encounter. Assassins were child’s play compared to that.
Thoughts of his battle against Loveless fueled Bram as he felt pain blossom in his hand, and then a blade of violet and orange hues shot out of the top of Dusk’s handle. It was long and broad, a weapon meant to reap souls with the strength of its wielder. Twin spikes of the same dusk-light glow expanded from the star-shaped crossguard to form its two missing quillons.
[HP: 320/320] has dropped to [270/320]
Now that he was attuned to Dusk, Bram noticed that the sacrifice required was half the price he used to pay.
BOONS: +1 to all Attributes, 2.5% increase to health and magic regeneration speed, 2.5% increased attack speed, 5% increased damage to dragon-type foes, tier-three spell [Sundering] is usable once per long rest.
More importantly, the epic-rated boons he’d been denied before were his to use now. They would prove useful to Bram as he launched himself forward with the intent not to give his opponents time to prepare.
In response to the prince’s charge, the telltale sparks of sorcery spread out of the soles of the leader’s boots. A gust of wind exploded underneath him, propelling the stout-looking man forward at great speed, bringing him close enough to brandish his sword against the charging Bram, who, to everyone’s surprise, slid underneath the blade that was swung at his neck to slip past the Vicomte. When the momentum of his charge slowed, the knight of the White Rose looked over his shoulder to discover that the prince had already reached his three companions.
Two of them managed to unsheathe their swords to counter the prince’s attack, but Bram had learned much from watching Rowan’s earlier duels. Though it seemed like he meant to clash blades against them, the opposite was true. Bram’s feint was meant to draw them closer so he might use the tier-three spell contained within Dusk against their numbers.
“The advantage of numbers means little”—As Bram raised Dusk high, he pointed the tip of its blade downward—“when I take away the one thing that’ll allow you to form up against me!”
He sent Dusk’s blade down to pierce the ground at his feet.
“Sundering!”
As the tip of the violet-orange blade struck the stone, the magic that gave it life exploded, shattering Dusk’s blade into hundreds of tiny pieces that fueled the bands of sparks spreading across the ground, turning into bolts of violet lightning that shot upward to strike the two hooded figures who were swinging their sword at Bram while blinding the third who’d kept their distance with a brilliant flash of light.
‘Rumble~~e!’
The ground shook, and Bram, who knew what ‘Sundering’ could do, jumped out of the way just as the stone beneath him cracked and fell apart. Soon, he was running away from the portion of the parapet that was crumbling inward—taking with it at least one of the hooded figures who’d been shocked by the bolt of lightning that struck them—and dashing forward, toward the third hooded figure who’d been momentarily blinded.
Dusk vibrated in his hand, pain blossomed in his palm, and then a new violet-orange blade shot out of the handle just in time for Bram to pierce the chest of his target.
There was a confused cry, a gasp, and then blood spurted out of the mouth that was hidden behind his hood.
“H-How…?” came the weakened voice of a woman Bram had never heard before.
“Honestly, I didn’t think this fight would be this easy,” he reasoned to no one in particular, “but perhaps I’ve grown more than expected…”
He glanced up at the yellow tag above her head.
Bernadette von Galen
“Or perhaps you were too weak to challenge me,” Bram couldn’t help sighing as he realized who she was. “You should have focused your efforts on rescuing your son rather than trying to seek revenge, Baroness…”
It was true that Bram kept Alaric von Galen and the other survivors of the Red Forest incident prisoners, though, officially, the heir of House von Galen was a guest of Lotharin’s governor and enjoyed the luxuries of the prince’s bastion in a suite that was under lock and key.
“My…son…” she began.
To which Bram replied, “You’ve damned him with your choice tonight…”
There was no helping it. By trying to assassinate him, Baroness Bernadette had just proven her house a traitor to the crown. There was only one punishment for such a crime, one that would be visited upon their whole house.
“You Ill-Fated—”
With the last of her strength, Baroness Bernadette attempted to pierce Bram’s eye with the dagger in her hand, but the prince was a step ahead of her. In one swift motion, he slid the violet-orange blade embedded in the baroness’ body across her chest to come out one side of her and sever the arm and the hand that held the dagger.
“Not so ill-fated anymore, I think…”
ALERT! With its caster defeated, the [Cone of Silence] is broken!
ALERT! With its caster defeated, the [Veiled Scenery] is broken!
So, this was why she’d stayed at the rear. Baroness Bernadette had been responsible for the sorcery that kept others from seeing or hearing Bram’s plight.
He watched her crumple to the ground dead at his feet and felt a twinge of regret. It was certain now. Atlan’s seventh prince would be responsible for the fall of a noble house which wasn’t necessarily a good thing since Lotharin needed all its nobles to come together to help make the kingdom great again.
“If you just paid the ransom instead of following in your husband’s footsteps…I might have let Alaric go.”
Bram felt the wind press against his back—and he raised Dusk in time to avoid the would-be deathblow aimed at his neck.
‘Clang!’
“You were a step too late, Vicomte.” Bram saw the familiar brown eyes seething from behind Vicomte Henry’s white hood and used it to clear his mind of guilt-ridden thoughts. “You have no one left to help you…”
This wasn’t exactly true. There was at least one remaining member of his group still around, though they were now hidden among the rubble and smoke billowing out of the section of the parapet Bram had destroyed.
“And I’ve made enough noise to stir the entire bastion into waking,” Bram pointed out. “You don’t have much time left to kill me and escape — if you even can.”
Right on cue, screams rose from the street below while alarms blared within the bastion’s walls. Neither combatant disengaged from the fight though. With their blades locked, they could neither step forward nor back. Instead, they bared their teeth at each other.
“You think I’m surprised that you can use sorcery now?” The mocking tone of his voice was more confirmation of who he was. “Our spies have told us of the meager strength you managed to scrounge up inside the goddess’ lost temple — and we are not impressed!”
Vicomte Henry was wrong on two counts. Though Bram had gained power inside the Red Ruin, it was not the source of his newfound strength. Also, the power the prince possessed now was far from meager. Not by the vicomte’s standards. This failure of the North’s spies to discover the truth about the Loom would be fatal for Vicomte Henry.
Bram proved this now as he overpowered the vicomte with only the strength of his arms and the anger igniting inside him. He shoved his enemy back, sending Vicomte Henry stumbling toward the body of the dead Baroness.
“Meager Strength…”
Bram switched Dusk’s blade to his left hand right before he aimed its tip forward.
“See it for yourself…”
ALERT! You’ve activated [Ability Replication Lv.1
“If the strength I’ve borrowed”—the violet-orange blade began to shake—“the strength I’ve gained…”
Before Vicomte Henry’s widening eyes, veins of pulsing blood spread across Dusk’s shaking blade, enveloping it in a dark crimson aura.
“…is anything but meager!”
As Bram swung Dusk upward, the blood pooling underneath Baroness Bernadette’s corpse began to stir.
“Sword of Life…”
There was a sound akin to the blaring of a war horn, and then the blood surged upward all at once, a crimson blade rising to envelop Vicomte Henry’s whole body.
“…Sanguine Blade!”
Since Bram couldn’t learn the third form of the Sword of Life, Rowan had taken the time one quiet night a few days ago to teach him its first form. Sadly, Bram couldn’t learn ‘Sanguine Blade’ either. At least not normally. Fortunately, with ‘Ability Replication’ helping him, he could at least use the spell once…and to devastating effect.
Vicomte Henry opened his mouth to scream but no voice could penetrate the crimson aura momentarily wrapped around him.
The Vicomte fell to his knees in pain just as the red aura left his body, rising to form a glowing red ball floating above his head.
“Gaah!”
Vicomte Henry’s breathing was ragged, and his armor was cracked, he was wounded all over, but he was alive…for now. In the same breath, the glowing ball of red aura floating above the vicomte unraveled into crimson ribbons that were sucked into Bram.
ALERT! You absorbed some of the life force of [Vicomte Henry Kleist], bringing you back to full health!
Regaining all the health he’d sacrificed for his blitz against his attackers was a huge boon to Bram, though he couldn’t bring himself to smile. For he could see something was happening to Vicomte Henry’s body…something otherworldly and all too familiar.
“Bloody hell…not you too.”
As Vicomte Henry rose back to his feet—his bloodied face fixed in an expression of unholy fury—his now-stained white armor broke apart from within because it couldn’t contain the body that was expanding, stretching past the limits of nature’s intention, growing to a grotesque mass of skin and tissue, which, to Bram’s surprise, didn’t look like it was about to burst.
“I told you…” The hoodless Vicomte Henry’s face was far from one Bram recognized. Indeed, it was no longer human but belonged to that of a demon of the seven hells. “…We are not impressed!”
And then all hell broke loose…