A few days already passed since the duel concluded. Byronard and the rest of the Great Houses were huddled in the council chamber. The meeting was nearing its end, with important information and agreements being shared and settled to secure the kingdom's future.
"As agreed, I will dispatch a squadron of royal guards led north to investigate Lord Rykard's absence. Being the Northlands' warden, we needed his presence in this council." Byronard said as the other heads agreed. "I say this not by his status alone, but even his proficiency in the art of alchemy and sciences would have proved beneficial over the past few days."
"What has the madman been doing up there, anyways? Apart from locking himself up from the rest of the world?" Lord Coppermouth asked as he scratched his orange beard. "Nothing good, Marius--that I can promise you." Lord Silverkind responded. "Even when we were young, I remembered him always shying away from the crowd; focused in his imaginary world." He continued.
"Really? You never told us you were acquainted with one another, Hans." Lady Alderth said.
"Well, none of you ever bothered to ask. And I think being acquainted is a bit of a stretch, my lady Charlotte. Our fathers were friends, so I was subject to frequent diplomatic visits to the North. I remember them quite vividly too, albeit not too fondly. The freezing temperatures leave a lasting impression, I tell you." Lord Hans suddenly shivered, almost as if his body remembered the chilling winds of the north.
Byronard stood up from his seat to catch everyone's attention. "He may be an...interesting individual to say the least, but his knowledge is uncontested. We need his expertise regarding the unknown substance lingering in Rosetown and his thoughts on why the frost drakes are getting more agitated, which is why I'll also task Uriel to lead the squadron up north. House Wintertomb will be their priority, and then we'll ask them to head to the dwarven capital of Ghor Nheram to observe the situation." He looked to the dwarven emissary. "I trust you can send word to Lords Sindras and Vargas?" Byronard asked to which the emissary responded by beating his chest twice.
"Rest assured, laddie. Once we're in the north, I'll head straight to Ghor Nheram to deliver the news." Khandem said. "To save you the trouble, there'd be no need to bring any of your guards with me for security. We dwarves know our motherland better than anyone here. Bringing anyone else unblessed by the winter's breath would only slow me down." He said while slamming the pommel of his axe onto the concrete floor.
Byronard chuckled at the emissary's response. "And I do not doubt that for a second, friend. But as a formality, I insist we send at least one of our own." The emissary hummed and thought long and hard at the idea, but gave in. "If you insist, then fine. But be sure to send someone who can handle some snow." The regent tilted his head downward as a sign of respect. "Of course. I already have someone in mind." Byronard looked and stared at the mural depicting the Civil War. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.
"If you don't mind, I also have a favor to ask. I feel you'll be interested in what I have to say." This caught the emissary's attention. "What is it, lad? I'm all ears." Khandem said, leaning in closer.
----------------------------------------
It was late afternoon, and footsteps echoed throughout the keep's infirmary. A squire carried an aromatic, freshly cooked meal toward a small area in the middle of the room where Lord Dunwick sat watch over Flint, who was in a deep sleep, still recovering from the battle a few days ago. The warden's face was filled with deep concern, with a slight hint of regret being reflected.
"Your meal, milord. Sir Byronard mentioned that you liked veal, so this was a special request." The squire said. "He isn't wrong," Dunwick said. "Put it on the table over there. Thank you, and kindly leave us be." The squire obliged and did what the warden requested, bowed, and left the infirmary, leaving Dunwick and Flint alone with only a royal guard standing watch and the keep's doctor. He put his hand on Flint's bandaged arm, sighing.
"It shouldn't have come to this. I taught you to stay away from trouble but here you are years later, defying everything I ever asked or wanted." Dunwick chuckled. "You're as hard-headed as your grandfather. I'll tell you that much. Both of you never made it easy for me." He began to rotate his seat and eat the freshly cooked meal, which was still piping hot.
The sound of footsteps and a metal object hitting the ground echoed throughout the infirmary minutes later. Dunwick turned to see Raphael standing over him, who then bowed out of respect. "Good evening, Lord Browgan. Did I interrupt anything?" Raphael asked. "No. Please, sit down. Do you like veal?" Dunwick offered the royal guard a portion of his meal, which Raphael politely declined as he sat on a vacant chair. "I'll have dinner with my brothers later. Respectfully, you should be the one to eat up, my lord. I've noticed a decline in your mood these past few days." Raphael said as Dunwick stopped eating and gulped down a jug of water.
"It's that obvious, eh?" Dunwick asked as Raphael nodded. "The health of the capital's citizens and guests falls under my duty as my title of the Doctor. The moment your demeanor changed when our friend here accepted the duel and you started to prefer water instead of your favored crimson cherry wine, I immediately knew things were wrong. Despite Flint winning the duel, you still have not recovered." Raphael explained. "If I were being honest, my lord, you seem to be in a worse condition than he is." The two of them looked at Flint, who still slept soundly.
"You're quite perceptive. I'll give you that. I forgot that you were a soldier before being the capital doctor." Dunwick said. "Have you ever experienced real combat before, Raphael of the Seven?"
"I've had my fair share of battles, and I was more a murderer rather than a soldier. My first victim was when I was nine, and death followed me wherever I went as the years passed. When I was to be finally executed for my crimes, Sir Byronard took me in, seeing my potential. He was yet regent at the time, so he risked his reputation on the line for me for going against the laws of the Codex. This act of compassion moved me. It was only then that I was enlightened. This led me to dedicate myself to preserving life instead of taking it. Have the others told you that I was the first to show my disdain after hearing that the vow of Combat and Victory was invoked?" Raphael said.
"No, they haven't," Dunwick replied. "So, even The Doctor of The Seven has his share of demons after all."
"Don't we all? Mine never really went away. I just...got better at hiding them from the world." Raphael said as he replaced a candle whose light was flickering out. He then looked at the warden with a blank expression.
"Listen, Lord Browgan; as I tended to Flint, I discovered something I couldn't understand, so I reported it immediately to Sir Byronard. He is now expecting you in the Ivory Tower as we speak, my lord." Dunwick stared at the royal guard.
"What is this, Raphael?" Dunwick asked.
"I bear no ill will, Warden. I swear it. I only shared what I found with Sir Byronard, and he ordered me to speak none of what I discovered to anyone except you and him. I barely even understand what is going on. You can rest assured that I will remain silent about this. Now please go, I'll watch over him for now." Raphael pulled his chair closer to Flint's bed and checked his temperature as he crafted a medicinal rune that steadied Flint's breathing. Dunwick stood silently and headed for the door, eager, but defyingly nervous about what Byronard had known.
----------------------------------------
Dunwick walked on the path that led to the Ivory Tower, a part of the keep where members of the Seven and Sir Byronard conducted their meetings. The path leading up to the tower was eerily quiet. The last people Dunwick spoke to were the other members of the Seven; Chamuel and Jophiel, who greeted him as they did their normal rounds. After stepping outside the courtyard, he saw the tower in all its glory. The moon shone down on the obsidian-tinted windows, as the sigil of House Ilyn swayed against the wind. Dunwick entered the doorway and climbed up the spiraling staircase. Moments passed and he found himself behind the doors of the office. He knocked hard on the door twice, and a voice responded in return.
"Come in," Byronard responded. "I wanted to discuss something with you, Dunwick."
"How'd you know it was me?" Dunwick asked as he opened the door and entered the room.
"Who else could it be? This tower is my sanctuary of sorts, where I go and plan everything I need to ensure things go smoothly. It is quite rare that someone visits me at this hour. Even the Seven only come up here when I call them for a meeting. They keep telling me that this part of the keep too eerie for their liking."
"Well, they're right about that one, that's for sure," Dunwick replied as he closed the door behind him and sat down. "Let's get on with it then. Raphael said he found something while tending to Flint, and that you wanted to keep it a secret between us three. What did he find?"
Byronard finished drinking his tea and sat on the chair fronting Dunwick. "It has something to do with his mana's constitution," He said, perplexed. "Raphael is one of the only few humans who possesses healing magic. He explained that, unlike the elves, he must understand his patient's body anatomy and mana's constitution before he can treat someone. After multiple, complicated investigations, he noticed something peculiar. Raphael said that Flint's mana felt alive somehow--he described it as an anomaly. This is based on pure assumption, of course. But I believe Raphael's onto something bigger than all of us--one that when discovered, would shake the foundations of Primera itself. We considered those eyes of his as evidence."
"Evidence of what?" Dunwick asked, his tone getting increasingly defensive. "You already understand where I'm going with this, Dunwick," Byronard replied. "Why keep him hidden from us--from me of all people?" The warden stood up, agitated. "I promised to keep him hidden. I have only done what I thought was necessary--for him, and for the person I swore a promise to."
"I see," Byronard looked at him, conflicted. "Based on the look on your face, it appears that you had no choice on the matter. Very well then, keep his secret to yourself. I won't ask any more questions. However, he is to stay in these walls until he can travel. At least give me that." The regent requested which Dunwick agreed to, calming down. "I can agree with that." He then turned toward the door, prepared to end the conversation early.
"The truth will eventually reveal itself. You know that do you, old friend?" Byronard called out, stopping Dunwick in his tracks.
"I know," Dunwick replied, seemingly lost in thought.
The warden opened the door and closed it shut, climbing down the tower steps as the silence greeted him with open arms. Somehow, the air seemed colder than it already was, and the world was slowly turning upside down. He sat on an empty bench alone and broke down as the howling winds drowned out his sorrows.
----------------------------------------
Morning came, and the warden rose from his sleep. He was barely able to get any rest as his thoughts raced each time his eyes closed. The guests of Wolfsbane Keep were being gathered for breakfast, and Dunwick groggily walked toward the mess hall.
Lord Augustus was the first person he met, who he found yawning and stretching as he ruffled his hair. "Oh, good morning to you, Warden!" Augustus greeted him. "Oh, what happened? You look like you barely got enough sleep last night."
"Somehow, the bed last night was a bit too uncomfortable for me," Dunwick replied, lying through his teeth. "I see. Come on, then. It's our last breakfast here in the capital, best make it count, eh?" Augustus went ahead and hummed a tune. A few moments later, Dunwick encountered Wyatt, accompanied by Xhiamas, Cassian, Coraline, and Godric, who were all in good spirits.
"Ah! Lord Dunwick! It's nice to see you!" Cassian said. "Good morning, my lord," Coraline said as she bowed, followed by Godric and Xhiamas. Wyatt approached the head of House Browgan and greeted him as well.
"How is Flint?" Wyatt asked. "Doing better. He's still asleep, but Raphael is keeping an eye on him. Hopefully, he'll wake up soon." This made the group each breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank the Divines," Wyatt said, grateful for the news. "What about Caine? Where is he now?"
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
"Under the crown's authority and the Order of Monarchs, Lord Dewblossom has been confined to his quarters. Once Flint recovers, he'll be the one to decide his fate. There's no need to worry about any trickery as the Seven themselves and Byronard will stand as witnesses." Dunwick explained.
"That's good to hear," Wyatt said. "Hopefully he gets what he deserves. After all the shit he put us through, even the seventh circle of hell won't be good enough of a punishment." He said as he smirked.
"Mind your words, lad. They have more power to them than you think." Dunwick replied. "Change how you carry yourself. I've seen many people who've gone down the same path you're going right now. Heed my word and do your best to avoid it as best you can. Your father would be saying the same thing." Wyatt remained quiet, but Dunwick felt that his hate for the noble was still apparent.
"Off you go, I'll catch up with you all soon," Dunwick said as they all took their leave. He sighed and stared out the window, which held a view of the marbled city below. Young ones these days...they'll be the death of me, Dunwick thought to himself.
"You seemed troubled, Talonborne." A voice suddenly spoke beside him. He turned to see the elven king, emerging from an unknown plane as his body shimmered into existence, unveiling himself as if an invisible cloak had covered his being. Dunwick initially stepped back but breathed easy after realizing it was the kind monarch of the elves.
"Oh, King Ithilien. Good morning to you. That's quite an amazing trick you have there up your sleeve." Dunwick said.
"Quite early for flattery, I think, Lord Dunwick," Ithilien said. "Something is bothering you greatly. Your thoughts are chaotic, and your emotions are in disarray. I trust Raphael has looked into this already?" He asked.
"He did. Not to worry, great king--all of this is just an old man's troubles catching up with him." Dunwick said as he let out a weak smile.
Ithilien studied his expression. "I see. I know there is more to that, Warden of the West. It is difficult to hide things from us empaths. But be at peace for I will not delve further into this matter. I respect you too much for me to do that." He said as he walked in the direction where the mess hall was.
"Join us for breakfast?" Ithilien asked. "Of course, King Ithilien. I'll be right there." Dunwick said as he caught up with the elven king. Afterwards, they made their way inside the mess hall where everyone was already assembled and eating.
"It seems they've already started." King Ithilien said. "I'll take my leave then. Enjoy your morning, warden." He said as he sat beside Khandem, who was voraciously devouring boiled eggs and ham like there was no tomorrow. Dunwick sat down beside Marius and Augustus, both of whom were enjoying their meals.
"You're quite mellow today, Browgan." Lord Marius said as he took a bite of freshly baked bread. "An unusual sight."
"That's what I noticed as well, Lord Marius." Augustus stepped in. "Are you not feeling well, Lord Augustus?" He asked, concerned for the grey-haired warden's well-being.
"I'll live. I didn't get enough sleep, that's all. Now, where's the meat, and can someone fetch me my wine?" Dunwick said, who tried his best to change the topic and hopefully erase any unwanted suspicion or concern. "Now that's the Talonborne I know! Bahahaha!" Marius laughed as he called out to a servant. "Get this man something to drink, if you would be so kind, lass!?" The servant gladly followed the order and disappeared to fetch the warden's favorite. The rest of the breakfast continued without any problem as everyone enjoyed each other's company, unaware of Dunwick's hesitance to indulge in his freshly poured wine, merely swishing the liquid in its goblet. He turned to the far left to find the elven king looking at him, concerned. No words were spoken, but Ithilien kept his word by merely nodding and raising his goblet in silence to Dunwick, who appreciated the gesture.
The joyful mood in the mess hall was abruptly interrupted as Michael, Gabriel, and Azrael entered the room. "My lords and ladies, I bring news," Michael said as he looked at Dunwick. "Flint is finally awake. Raphael's helping him now as we speak."
Dunwick immediately dashed toward the exit, dropping the goblet as wine spilled onto the floor. He passed the three members of the Seven who moved out of the way. The warden raced through the halls of the keep and only mere minutes passed before he found himself at the doors of the infirmary, where he saw Raphael in the middle of the room helping Flint up to his feet.
"I admire your fortitude, sir, but I insist you stay in bed! Your mana is still unstable--you'll find it hard to maintain balance," Raphael explained as Flint willed himself to get up while being assisted. "Rest first and eat, you've yet to have any sustenance except water." Dunwick immediately positioned himself to where he could help Flint up.
"Easy lad--best to follow Raphael's advice. He's been restlessly looking after you since you passed out after the fight." Dunwick said. "How...how long was I...out for?" Flint asked. "Three days and a half," Raphael responded as they helped him onto the bed. "I thought you'd be asleep for longer, you know. That fight you had was something else." He continued.
Flint was finally settled properly onto the infirmary bed. He breathed easy as Raphael drew the same medicinal rune onto his arm. "I'll head to the kitchen right now and ask the cook to make you a meal. If you'll excuse me." The sound of his staff hitting the ground was in sync with his footsteps as he left the infirmary, leaving the two to themselves.
"Told you...not to worry...old man," Flint said in a weak voice, still exhausted. His breathing was steadier now, but he was in no condition to make any unnecessary movements. "Shut up and rest. These past few days gave me more problems than the recent decade did boy." Dunwick replied.
"C-Caine? Where..is he?" Flint asked. "Locked up in his quarters. He recovered two days earlier than you did, but he was still injured. Guards are stationed outside his room, and Raphael checks up on him as you sprained his arm."
"Did I now?" Flint said, smirking. "That'll teach him some manners. Imagine...a commoner beating up a noble..what a tale."
"Stop lying to yourself, Alexander." Dunwick pleaded as he buried his head deep into his hands, unsure what might happen next.
A group of footsteps echoed outside the infirmary. "Flint!" A voice cried out. It came from Cassian, who ran into the room followed by Godric, Wyatt, Coraline, and Xhiamas. They rushed in front of the bed, ecstatic. "Thank the Divines you're okay! We knew you could do it!" He said. "You fought well, Flint. If I had been in your situation I would have lost. Sir Caine was that good. That speaks multitudes of how better you are than him." Godric said. "I'd say the same thing," Wyatt agreed. "You have no idea how grateful we are to you."
"Only...did..necessary-" Flint stopped mid-sentence as he began to cough up blood. Coraline immediately fetched a clean cloth and tended to him. Dunwick held his arm and saw the rune glow radiantly.
"He still needs to rest." They all turned to see Raphael and Uriel walking toward them.
"Raphael's magic works differently from the elves. Unlike King Ithilien's prowess in healing magic which is near-instantaneous, Raphael devised alternative methods to obtain efficiency while at the same time not risking his life in the process." Uriel explained to the group. "By leaving a lasting rune full of healing properties onto one's body, Raphael can conserve energy and treat multiple people in one sitting. In this case, Flint's body is trying to catch up with his mana's restoration. However, the imbalance between his physical condition and overall mana is causing the healing to decelerate and is now causing side effects. At least, that's my theory." Uriel continued.
"You never cease to amaze me, Uriel." Raphael complimented his brother-in-arms. "What you see now are just side effects of the restoration rune I made. I could amplify its effects, but in the state that he's in, it would only backfire. He needs food and water. Afterward, I can amplify the rune. Give or take, recovery would only take two days." Raphael tilted his head, calculating when Flint could be entirely nursed back to full health.
"Well, what's important is that he's finally awake," Dunwick said, relieved after hearing what the two royal guards had said. "I'm sorry for ever doubting you, Raphael."
"No need to apologize, warden. I was only doing my duty." Raphael replied as he nudged Uriel on the shoulder. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh! Thank you for reminding me, brother." Uriel said as he turned to Godric and company. "Sir Byronard requests your presence in the council room. It would be best not to keep him waiting." He signaled the group to follow him as he left the room.
"Of course!" Godric said. "Let's go, everyone." Soon after, the infirmary was empty except for Dunwick, and Raphael. Flint, lay asleep but it was evident that he was in pain.
Raphael sat down and slowly breathed in and out while pouring hot tea into an empty cup. "Uriel's theory is correct: the rune I made is less effective than normal. Lord Dunwick, Flint's mana constitution amazes me so much. I've never seen such complexity in structure and form." He snapped his fingers and a glowing rune hovered over his open hand, flickering in and out. "This is the eighth modification of my healing rune. Even the standard royal guard only requires an average of three or four modifications before I can craft an effective healing ward. Michael took me five attempts, and just now, Flint broke Gabby's previous record of seven." Raphael continued, highly intrigued.
Dunwick looked at Flint, who groaned and clutched the wood frames of the bed. "You know well enough that the recovery time was a lie, Lord Dunwick. He is on borrowed time. I promised to look after this man, and I cannot do so if I cannot understand who he is. A sliver of information on this man's history would suffice. I'll use the Capital Library and modify the rune based on his foundation of mana. Only then, can Flint's recovery be hastened and successful." Raphael explained grimly. Dunwick looked at him and saw genuine concern and interest in the Doctor's face to save Flint's life.
He stood and slowly paced the room. The walls of the large infirmary seemed to be closing in around him. Phantom voices began to whisper words into his ears. The warden was cornered. Raphael called out to him, asking if he was okay, but the Talonborne was distracted by a distant memory. In a brief moment of weakness, he looked at the man who lay in the bed, and everything went quiet.
"Lord Dunwick?" Raphael asked the warden of the west, who stood still and aloof. "Are you okay, my lord?"
Dunwick steeled himself and looked outside the window. I'm sorry, Belarius. Dunwick thought to himself. I hope you can forgive me, old friend. The warden then turned to Raphael.
"You mentioned you had access to the library, correct?" Dunwick asked the royal guard. "Yes, my lord. Every member of the Royal Guard has access to the Capital Library, but only members of The Seven and Sir Byronard himself have access to the Royal Archives." Raphael replied.
"Good. I'll watch over Flint for now. However, I must ask one thing from you. Byronard already knows it would lead to this, so do not fear any punishment whatsoever." Raphael looked at him, confused. "Of course, my lord."
"Byronard has only scratched the surface of the truth, but I have carried its weight most of my life. Before we continue, I invoke the Vow of Silence." Dunwick unsheathed his knife strapped on his thigh and cut his open palm. He then handed the bloody knife over to Raphael, prompting him to do the same. "I'm sorry to have pulled you into this, lad," Dunwick said with regret. Raphael took hold of the knife and cut his palm as well. They then shook hands. Despite no indication of rain or storm, thunder boomed in the distance, indicating that the vow had been made.
"What would you have me do?" Raphael asked.
"Access the Royal Archives and pull out every book regarding House Ilyn. This next act might cause suspicion, so I invoked the Vow of Silence." Dunwick looked around to ensure no one was in the room with them. He then leaned in closer and whispered in Raphael's ears.
"I want you to take out the book holding information on Byronard. Do this, and I will tell you everything you need to know to save Flint's life."