Sion is brought into the throne room, following behind a rushing Geard. King Rihtwis sits on his throne, Eva standing to his side. On one side of the hall is General Shard, accompanied by Scima, who stands slightly behind him. Geard takes a position on the opposite side, and Sion, confused by the current situation, simply follows after him. King Rihtwis remarks on their presence.
“Geard, Young Sion, it is good to see you. Have the exams gone well?” Across the hall General Shard and Scima wave at Sion. Ignoring them, Geard answers.
“Ah, yes, I have no objection to Sion attending Sagax Academy as a part of our national delegation,” the general and Scima give a quick shout in celebration. “However, I have a much more pressing matter to bring to your attention, Your Majesty.” King Rihtwis looks to General Shard, who has no objection.
“Very well, Geard. What has happened?”
“There was an attack set in the servant’s building. It toppled a pillar and nearly crushed two maids, if not for Sion.” King Rihtwis’ face hardens as General Shard responds to the report.
“May be connected to our discussion. What do you think, Your Majesty?”
“It seems so, Heleo. My darling Evangelina, can you apprise Geard and young Sion of the current situation?” Eva looks caught off guard by her father, but collects her thoughts quickly.
“For the past day or so, attacks on carriages leaving the city have increased greatly. This morning, a notice was hung up around the city. It reads: ‘We are the ones attacking everyone leaving the city. We will not stop until we have the head of Princess Evangelina or 10 kilograms of gold or something as valuable. You cannot escape.’ We thought they may just be powerful brigands, but it appears they may not be the case.” Geard looks pensive.
“General Shard, has an investigation already begun?”
“It has, but it’s turned up nothing. We could track the fliers to the guy’s who put them up, but they were all dead in some alley. We’ve shored up defenses near the gates too, but the attacks haven’t stopped.”
“Do we have any estimate on these brigands’ strength?”
“Not at all. Any well defended caravan hasn’t been attacked. They’ve only been hitting the ones they could beat without any losses, so we can’t tell anything.”
“How should we handle this situation?”
“I was going to say brute force until you showed up. We can’t be taking hasty actions if we have a rat in the castle.”
“Should we move forward under the assumption that this traitor is a member of these brigands or just a pawn to be used and thrown away?”
“It’s hard to say. Sion boy, you were the only one here that witnessed the attack. Do you have any thoughts?” Sion thinks back to the exploding pillar, searching for any hints that may have been in that attack.
“The way the spell works makes me think they weren’t trying to cause any mass destruction. The spell sucked up all the magic in the room to activate, so even if the same spell was rigged into the other pillars, only one could go off.” The general processes the new insight.
“Then this rat of ours may be a red herring instead. They might be trying to divert our attention to finding the traitor while they get time to prepare. And if this rat made sure to minimize the damage, they might just be a sacrificial lamb for the real enemy.” Scima interjects.
“Then it would be in our best interests to pursue the actual organization behind all these attacks. However, I have one worry. It’s possible that the goblins who attacked us a week ago were another attack from this organization. It’s clear from their notice that they’re thinking about our departure in their attacks. They want to make sure Lady Eva cannot escape them. So is it not also possible that they were the ones behind the first attack as well? And if they were, then this organization may be more dangerous than we think.” Sion is slightly off-put when he sees Scima so collected and proper. General Shard visibly turns over Scima’s theory in his head.
“We certainly can’t rule the idea out. It may be in our best interest to move forward considering them one and the same. I further believe that even if the traitor is only a pawn, we should keep the circle of people involved as small as possible. Your Majesty, what are your orders?” He looks to King Rihtwis. King Rihtwis has clearly been deliberating each point as it arose.
“First, the soldiers guarding the gates will expand the perimeter and be more ready to engage with enemies beyond that range in a timely manner. Second, the number of patrolling soldiers will be increased throughout the city, especially at night. Third, the castle security will be tightened, let no one in nor out.” General Shard bows to King Rihtwis.
“Very well, Your Majesty, I will make it so.” As the general leaves, King Rihtwis now turns to Geard.
“Geard, return to your duties as normal. Young Sion, young Scima, stay behind for a moment.” Geard bows and takes his leave.
Sion and Scima draw closer to King Rihtwis and Eva. King Rihtwis loses a part of his regal bearing as he speaks to the three of them.
“My darling Evangelina, young Sion, young Scima, I apologize, but in light of the attacks, your departure to Sagax must be postponed.” Irritation flashes across Scima’s face, but he dispenses it quickly before he speaks.
“Your Majesty, I alone would be able to protect Lady Eva. With Sion here, there should be no issue at all.”
“We do not know the full extent of these brigands’ strength. And even then, we know not of their goal. We have no idea what they shall do if their target escapes them. My decision is final.” Scima says nothing. He bows to King Rihtwis, then turns to leave the hall.
Later that night, Sion is preparing to sleep. He hears a tapping at the window. Sion pulls open the curtains to see what it is. Behind the window is Scima, his blond hair dark under the veil of the night sky. Scima gestures upwards with his arms vaguely. Whatever he is trying to communicate is lost on Sion.
Sion pushes open the large windows. He leans on the windowsill so his face is closer to Scima’s. Scima smiles at him.
“I’m solving our thug problem.” Scima says it simply, as though he were just going out to do a normal errand. Before Sion can try and dissuade him, Scima grabs his arm on the windowsill. Scima pulls the off guard Sion down from the window as he continues. “And I need your help to do it.” Sion, not expecting anything even remotely like this, falls onto the ground in front of Scima. He questions Scima as he stands.
“Why do you need my help? And why are you doing it in the middle of the night?” Scima keeps smiling as he answers joyfully.
“You heard King Rihtwis, we won’t be let out starting tomorrow. If we want to handle the problem we’ll need to do it now and we need nobody to know. So we have to do it tonight. And I just want your help.”
“So why do we need to handle it ourselves? Can’t we leave it to General Shard?”
“That’ll take time. And I don’t want to let them run free or keep us waiting any longer than we have to.” Beneath his smile and his facade of justice, Sion senses a hint of something deep inside of Scima. Just the tiniest hint of frustration. A tinge of sadness and fear. And deeper still a desperation. Sion senses it so faintly inside of Scima that he can’t even be sure it really exists, but he doesn’t want to wait around to find out. Sion is gripped by a fear that something terrible will befall Scima if he is left alone tonight.
“I’ll help you, but just to make sure you stay out of trouble.” For a moment as the words pass his lips, Sion considers knocking Scima out and saving them both the hassle. But as Scima smiles at him, he stops that sort of thinking entirely. Even disregarding whether he’d even be able to knock out Scima, Sion realizes that he’d rather disobey orders than betray his friend. Scima begins to walk towards the castle wall and Sion follows behind him.
The stone walls are even more imposing at night than they are in morning. The dark stones feel like they melt into the night sky and expand beyond Sion and Scima’s reach. Sion and Scima look up the wall. Scima begins talking.
“As the one who thought up this plan, I’m the leader. Follow my orders, Sion.” Scima draws his blade. “What I need you to do—” Sion interrupts him.
“Wouldn’t driving your sword into the stone be really bad?” Scima answers him lazily.
“They’re just rocks. Who’ll care?”
“Not the rocks, the formulae. Won’t the whole castle notice right away?” Scima is shocked at Sion’s question, and his attitude changes dramatically. As he starts his own line of inquiry he is intense and almost panicked.
“How do you know about the formula? Did somebody let it slip? Were you told by somebody outside the castle?” There were two things that Sion hadn’t realized. The first was obvious, he had not realized that the magic formula engraved in the walls were a state secret. The second was that he should not be able to see it at all. Sion had not realized that the pure form of magic was not something humanity was meant to see. He doesn’t know how to explain himself to Scima without giving away the secret of his power. Even though he wants to trust him, Sion doesn’t want to take that risk even more.
“I… figured it out?” Sion keeps his answer vague, as though he himself doesn’t know why he knows it. And it’s not entirely untrue, he had only realized the wall’s true form just now, now that he had seen it without the light. Each stone glows softly to Sion, each engraved with a magic formula. The stones together form another formula repeated across the wall. The wall is not just a wall, but a massive circuit for constructing a magical barrier around the castle. And if a single formula stopped working, the entire system might shut off.
Scima looks skeptical of Sion, knowing that he’s hiding something. However, he chooses not to press further and focus on the task at hand.
“Using my magic, I can make the formula visible on the stone. All I need to do is not hit the formula and it’ll be fine.” Sion never expected that light magic would have such a niche power, and only then realized that he could have made up some strange power of a magic as esoteric as his own. “Sion, boost me. However high you’ll be able to reach on your own.” Sion nods.
Sion creates a small hold with his hands and crouches down. Scima places one leg on the hold. Sion begins to raise his body back up and swing his arms. As Scima’s leg raises, he kicks off of Sion’s hands and flies upwards. As Scima crosses slightly past the halfway point of the wall, it begins to glow. He doesn’t miss a beat as he confidently thrusts his sword towards the stone. The blade sinks into the rock, the metal illuminated by the light of the formula to its side.
“Well, Sion!? Is the formula still up and running!?” It was as Scima said, the formula remained unchanged. “Now jump up to me and I’ll throw you to the top!” Sion takes a step away from the wall.
Sion begins to run at the wall. He bends his knees just as he reaches the wall once more. He leaps into the air. As he enters Scima’s range, Scima grabs Sion by the collar and begins to drag him up with great effort. Scima is able to toss Sion slightly higher. As Sion reaches up with his long arms, his fingers just barely don’t graze the ledge they were aiming for. Another spectral extension emerges from Sion’s body. The light blue arm passes over the ledge. The hand forms gripping at the top of the wall. Sion dangles at the ledge as he tries to control his still nascent power. He solidifies the soul around his real arm until his hand is fully enveloped in the blue mist. Once it is, he can properly visualize the apparition as a limb connected to his body. He begins to pull himself up. Once Sion reaches the top of the wall, he takes a deep breath in. Scima calls to him from below.
“Ok! Now just pull me up!” Sion drops his body onto the wall, one palm firmly on the surface. He moves over to the ledge and dangles one arm towards Scima. Scima reaches up towards Sion’s hand, but can’t reach it. “Hold on, I can’t reach. Give me a second to figure this out.” Without giving him a moment to think, Sion shifts more of his body off the ledge. Scima looks surprised when Sion brings himself closer, but quickly grasps his hand. Scima pulls his sword cleanly from the stone as Sion hefts the two of them up the wall. When the ledge is in Scima’s reach, he begins to pull himself up, relieving Sion of the burden.
Scima is able to get to his feet before Sion does. He extends his hand down towards Sion. Sion takes Scima’s hand and pulls himself up. The two of them look down the other side of the wall at the grass covered in shadow. Scima looks at Sion.
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“Let’s just jump down.” Sion nods, but looks a little antsy as he begins to talk.
“How I knew about the formula, soul magic makes me more sensitive to those sorts of things.” Scima looks unimpressed, then responds with a smile.
“Lying really doesn’t suit you.” Scima joyously leaps from the wall, landing on the grass beyond it. Sion follows shortly after, slightly dejected from his failure.
They run through the large fields that exist between the two walls. Sion begins talking as they dash without worry.
“Do we need to do that again for the other wall?” Scima doesn’t turn as he runs.
“No, there are guard stations on the wall, so we can just walk through that.”
Pretty soon, they reach the edge of the plain. Scima looks down both sides of the wall, pondering something. After several still seconds, Scima points in one direction.
“This way’ll go faster.” The two of them jog along the wall.
Soon they reach a wooden door set in the wall. Scima pulls the door open, but moves back to the side of the wall. Nobody emerges from the now open door, and so Scima walks inside, Sion trailing behind him. Again Scima pulls open the door, then he hugs against the wall. Sion quickly presses himself into the wall as well. A soldier walks into the small stone room, a joyful tilt to him.
“Hey, hey, which one of youse opened up the door? Don’t bother unless you’re taking over for me.” The soldier looks confused as he scans the room and sees nobody in front of him. He was caught off guard when there was nobody to rib him. As he collects himself, Scima and Sion sidle out the open door. Once out the door, past the walls, Scima and Sion break out into a full dash to make distance. They needed to ensure they wouldn’t get caught.
As they slow down, they enter the city proper. The city is entirely changed at night. The bustling roads are empty. The bright appeals removed or dull in the darkness. Sion can barely believe that this city and Clea are one and the same. Scima is hardly bothered by it.
Scima struts through the empty streets with confidence. He puffs out his chest as he walks, as though to make him look even larger than he already is, an effect lost by comparison to the slack giant behind him. Scima says nothing, simply walking one-mindedly forward. Sion is comfortable with silence, so he lets him be without question.
Soon they come across muted lights and boisterous men. Scima ignores them. Sion throws passing glances their way, but otherwise follows Scima dutifully. However, they make no efforts to hide themselves, they have no reason to. Soon a curious drunk approaches. He’s loud and raucous and causes them delay, but as he looks at Scima, he says something much more coherent than before.
“Ms. Sunna? That you? I thought you died…” Scima glares at him, ignoring the look of unknowing on Sion’s face.
“You’ve had too much to drink. Leave.” The harshness of Sion’s command sobers the man up. He looks a little embarrassed, but still drunk enough to be shameless.
“Oh… Of course not… You her son then? That boy…” there’s a look of wistful reminiscence that crosses the man’s red face. Caught in the moment, he continues. “If I had known what would happen to your mother, I would have se—” Scima drives his fist into the man’s stomach. As the man curls over and falls to his knees, Scima leaves without a word. Sion follows after him in shock. Sion still says nothing, sure that Scima would rather not talk.
They roam the dark streets wordlessly, walking through the center of the streets until they near the edge of the city, far from the castle and near the city walls. Scima looks around until he finds something. Sion follows Scima’s eyes to find a sleeping vagrant on the street. Sion remembers the strange wanderer Rebello Faegen, yet with this scene before him remembers him far better than he would have thought. Rebello, even in his lackadaisical state, held a strength and a joy in his body. The same cannot be said for this vagrant. This old vagrant is like a husk of a person. If not for the soft movement of his body as he draws breath, Sion would have thought him a corpse.
Scima approaches the old beggar and crouches down to him. He begins to roughly shake the man to stir him. The old man’s eyes shoot open. One eye looks towards nothing, no light left in it, the other darts around wildly, possessed by great fear. When he sets his eye on Scima, he freezes entirely, like a deer in headlights. He begins to blabber loose strands of thought.
“Please don’t hurt me— Gold, my brother has gold— The soldiers, the soldiers— My brother, he’s a soldier?— I swear I’ll give the gold— My daughter, she just— Two months ago, I came into a great fortune, a great fortune— My father congratulated me for my success— My wife, she’s waiting for me— He gave me a great fortune?— Spare me!” Scima slaps the man.
“I’m not some thug, old man. Wherever those thugs you’re so scared of are, tell me.” The old man cannot hold his own words straight, likely the malinfluence of some magic meant to shatter the mind. Whenever he stammers, it’s clear that he knows the answer, clear he wants to tell it, but he cannot. Whenever he gets close, he stops and restarts or diverts entirely.
Sion has a pained expression on his face as he watches the old man speak. Sion wants to help, but he cannot help. Desperately, desperately, he wants to help this man even to the slightest degree. But the curse is too deeply ingrained in the old man’s mind and body. Sion watches the man with a pained expression on his face, and his eyes glow softly.
“Those thugs… they hang around those abandoned brothels…” The old man blurts out, with a sudden burst of clarity. Scima takes his hands off the old man and stands.
“Thanks, that’s just what we needed.” He turns back to Sion, the glitter in Sion’s blue eyes now receding, and smiles at him. “Let’s go.”
And the two of them are off. They jog quickly through the streets, careful to conserve their energy without wasting a second. The moon still hanging high in the sky, they come across a tired looking man. When they approach, the man shoots up, back straight, and begins talking at them.
“This is our territory, get out!” Scima is unfazed and asks a question of the watchman.
“Are you the guys behind those fliers around the city?” The man scoffs.
“Of course we are! No one else in this damn city has enough guts for that!” Scima nods.
“Good, good, just what I wanted to hear.” Scima smiles wide as he draws his sword.
Scima strikes like a flash of light, cutting through the man. The shocked man screams in pain as he falls to the ground. Scima smiles over the screaming man at Sion.
“Okay, let’s go find the boss.”
Scima and Sion storm through the abandoned streets. Scima slashes through any approaching thugs without mercy. Each of the unsuspecting men brought down before they even realize the fight has started. Sion follows behind, slamming his body against each thug. Combined, the two of them run unimpeded, no average man able to stop them alone, much less together. They cut through the horde of criminals. Soon, they find a much better lit building. The glow of the light invites them in. Scima cuts through the door.
“Boss must be through here.” Scima steps through the scraps of the door. Inside are several wooden tables, none matching the others, organized messily around one large room. Several men, better armed than the ones outside, turn to look at the two of them as they enter. The men rise as one and charge them.
A burly man rushes ahead and throws a punch at Sion. There’s a great weight behind the blow, surely enough to shatter the wooden floor they stand on. Sion dodges the strike and grabs the man’s wrist. He comes in close and places his forearm on the man’s chest. Gripping the man’s wrist tightly, Sion pushes into the man’s chest, forcing him back. He gasps in pain as his shoulder is pulled strongly. Sion then sweeps his leg and drops him on the ground.
A stringy man in a cloak rushes past Sion towards Scima. The man thrusts a dagger out from within his cloak. Scima flicks his arm strongly, knocking the dagger off course. The man recovers himself and stabs once more. Scima again parries the blow, now with enough force to disarm him. As the dagger flies, the man’s eyes follow. Scima thrusts with his blade, stabbing into the man’s side, then drags it away, cutting the wound open. The man grabs the bleeding gash with both his hands, pressing into it hard to staunch the bleeding. As blood gushes out past his hands, Scima strikes the man’s head with his pommel. The man crumples to the ground.
The easy defeat of their two comrades gives the other charging men pause. They slow down and hesitate, unsure of how to approach the coming battle. Before they can make their choice, however, a strong, gruff voice resounds throughout the room.
“Stop. I’ll handle this.” A large man walks down a set of stairs in the back of the room. The charging men stop completely as they turn to face him. One of the men responds to him.
“Boss! Don’t put yourself out for them, we can handle this!” There is a powerful air about the boss. Without saying a word, just with his aura, he refutes the man who answered him.
As the boss steps past the remaining men, Sion and Scima charge him as one. As quick as they can, so quick they can’t even use magic, they attack. Sion swings his leg at the boss’ head. Scima slashes at his torso. The boss crosses his arms over his chest. With one, he catches Sion at the ankle. With the other, he pinches Sion’s blade. The boss pulls his arms back in place, slamming Sion and Scima into each other. Sion tries to get in close as Scima pulls back. The boss effortlessly blocks each of Sion’s blows. As he tosses Sion to the ground once more, Scima’s sword pulses with light. As Scima swings his blade, the boss takes a step back. The sharpened light grazes him, drawing blood from a small, shallow cut. Sion jumps to his feet and throws a quick jab. The boss moves to grab Sion’s arm once more, but feels the impact before he can. As the wispy blue light dissipates, the boss laughs.
“You two, surrender to me. Become my lieutenants.” Scima mocks him.
“Subordinate? To a two-bit thug like you?” The boss becomes incensed.
“Why are all you weak little peons incapable of understanding us?! We are not ‘thugs,’ we are liberators! The sole people fighting for truth and justice! Even promising youngsters like you can only understand if I break you and build you back up again!” Behind his rage is a genuine sorrow, as though he pities the two of them, as though he truly doesn’t want to hurt them further.
Before the man can take another step forward, before Sion and Scima can move to meet him, the windows near the door shatter. From them, bright silver wolves flood into the building. As Scima sees them, he grows panicked.
“Sion, we’re running.” Scima turns to run, leaving Sion entirely off-guard.
As Scima tries to escape, a hand curls around his head. Carrying Scima by his head, a large man with tired eyes and long, jagged silver hair walks in. The wolves quickly dispatch each of the men on standby. The man drops Scima and another wolf leaps on top of him, pinning him to the ground. The remaining wolves begin to hound the boss. When the man sees Sion, he smiles gently. He speaks to him in a deep yet soft voice.
“You’re Sion? Regn’s a well-behaved pup. My boys have enjoyed playing with him too.” The boss is incensed again by this man’s lack of care.
“You! Who do you think you are! Barging in here just as I was about to teach these boys the truth of this world!” The man bows his head slightly to the boss.
“I am Lieutenant General Adalwolf. I suppose I’m these boys’ guardian for the night.” The boss scoffs at him.
The boss shakes his body vigorously, throwing all the wolves off him. He picks up one wolf and throws it into the pack, breaking them up. He cuts through the pack then. Adalwolf drops his body. The boss laughs at him. As he laughs, Adalwolf pounces. Adalwolf turns his hand to a claw and swings it. With his hand he draws a large gash across the boss’ chest. Adalwolf then pushes the boss to the ground and pins him. He speaks, his voice still soft.
“Who are you? Who’s backing you? Tell me and I might just spare you.” The man alternates between laughing and coughing up blood.
“Spare me? Hah! I’m an honorable major of the True Dracabanan Army! I don’t need mercy from you peons!” Suddenly Adalwolf jerks back. He orders his wolves to scatter. Sion jerks forward towards Adalwolf and reaches towards him.
The boss’ body explodes. Fire engulfs the surrounding area. Sion just barely grabs onto Adalwolf’s collar and pulls him back. As the fire subsides and everyone recollects himself, Adalwolf begins to shake his body around. His front is blackened by soot, the ends of his hair are singed. Sion looks at him, a worried look on his face. Adalwolf turns to him as he wipes soot from his face.
“Well, Sion? Was that explosion the same kind as in the pillar?” Sion is shocked by how little he cares about what happened to him. He’s stunned for a moment before he answers.
“Yes, it was the exact same. As far as I can tell.” Adalwolf returns to Scima near the door. He hoists Scima over his shoulder.
“Good job tracking them down then, Scima. Here’s hoping the general will just let you off with a light beating with that.” Scima begins bartering.
“Hey, since we did such a great job, why don’t you just not tell the general? How about it, Adalwolf?”
“Scima, why do you think I’m even here to bail you out. General Shard already knows. He sent me out to bring you back. Dealing with those thugs was just a detour, really. Actually, he already decided on your punishments. He wanted to string you up and leave you hanging somewhere.” He turns his head towards Sion. “Oh, don’t worry, Sion, he just wanted to make you sit still and listen to a long lecture. Well, let’s go home then.” Still carrying Scima, now flailing his body around to escape, Adalwolf whistles, and his wolves rush towards him and sink into his shadow. Adalwolf leaves and Sion follows after him.
Adalwolf leads Sion and Scima to General Shard. The general’s face is stern, sterner than normal. He looks quite upset with the two of them. He begins to scold them.
“Why did you two fools decide to handle this on your own? And in secrecy?” Scima answers, still held in place by Adalwolf.
“We could handle it, but a scared old man like you would never let us do it. And the sooner we take care of this the better.” The general looks to Adalwolf.
“Ah, general, they… definitely couldn’t handle it. If it weren’t for me, they likely would have been captured or even killed.” Adalwolf suddenly switches to defending the two of them. “But they got pretty far, and their hearts are in the right place, so can you give them a break? Just cut them a little slack?” The general’s face doesn’t soften a bit.
“Adalwolf, stop encouraging them.”
“But they tried their best.”
“They acted like fools and nearly died for it. We need to punish them so they won’t act like this again.”
“Can you at least lighten their punishment in light of their achievements?”
“Fine, fine. The carrot and the stick, I suppose. Very well, your punishment is running one hundred laps.” Sion resigns himself silently, and Scima follows after when he’s let free. Adalwolf looks a little more serious.
“Now, general, I have something important to report.” General Shard looks uninterested.
“Hm? Adalwolf? You’re still here? Get to running those laps, boy.”
“Huh?! I’m getting punished too?”
“Of course not. You’re setting a good example for those boys. As a leader.” Adalwolf sighs.
“I’ll get right to it. But I really do need to report this to you first.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“Those thugs said they were a part of the True Dracabanan Army.” General Shard looks angered once more.
“Those damn pests are back again already? I was hoping I’d never have to see those fools again.” He sighs deeply. “I’ll tell the king about those nuisances. Now get to running.” The general smacks Adalwolf on the back. Adalwolf quickly joins Sion and Scima in running beneath the night sky.