By now, all the knights had wised up to Ailn’s penchant for nonsense, but this was the first time he’d actually said something completely nonsensical.

Won what? He’d been left bloody, lacerated, and so beaten down even the physician mistook him for dead.

Frankly, the idea was laughable—certainly, it at least evoked the knights’ pity. Whether he’d been attacked by Renea, Aldous, or even a single shadow beast, any of those three would have been so far beyond Ailn’s reckoning that he’d simply have to accept his fate.

Aldous’s face remained impassive.

“An odd conclusion, Your Grace,” Aldous said. "Though I shan't fault a man for clinging to a moral victory—however imagined. Perhaps you take pride in how skillfully you play a corpse?”

Ailn’s grin turned a little bitter.

“Moral victory… isn’t wrong,” Ailn said. “That’s just what it means to live in a world where some guys get God-given holy power. Though I’d be willing to bet, you caught me by surprise—who would’ve thought Aldous the stoic and heroic would pervert the divine blessing?”

That little bit of rhyme put a scowl on Aldous’s face.

“There were always a few weird things about the courtyard,” Ailn mused. “They were small, but… they built up. The sheds were wrecked by holy aura. I’d clearly taken a direct hit myself.”

Ailn paused.

“But where was the third point of impact? Sir Tristan didn’t hear two concussive blasts… he heard three.”

There was a hiccup from the audience, but Ailn ignored it.

“The orichalcum-dense sword kept bothering me. It just wasn’t my style. And as much as I kept trying to justify it, that sword was always out of place,” Ailn said.

Aldous’s jaw was beginning to set.

And Renea, who’d been listening with rapt attention, seemed to recoil. Something she’d just heard had shocked her.

“Orichalcum-dense…?” Renea whispered. “What?”

“And, another small thing. It wouldn’t have meant much by itself. The sword was missing material,” Ailn said, his eyes narrowing as he considered the anomaly. “In retrospect, it’s obvious why. More importantly, it’s obvious… how.”

Ailn gestured like he was holding up a sword, pointing where the hilt would be.

“It had been hit with holy aura. Our third impact point. How else would a sword shatter so violently?” Ailn asked. “My first thought was that it had been used to block an attack. Which made some sense, but… that wouldn't explain the missing material.”

Still pointing to the imaginary hilt, Ailn traced his hand upwards and horizontally, as if he were outlining the width of the blade.

“Right here. Right where a knight would inscribe his or her name. Swords are expensive after all,” Ailn said. “No knight wants theirs to get stolen. But the name left on this particular sword caused a problem. See, everything would have been fine if the sword just spelled out ‘AILN.’”

Ailn spelled out the letters in the air with his finger and paused for emphasis.

“But it didn’t. Because the shattered sword didn’t belong to me,” Ailn said. He took his time with it, spelling an entirely different name in the air, knowing the person in question could only wrathfully watch. “I’ll bet you anything that inscribed right above that hilt was ‘ALDOUS.’ Or, ‘ALDO,’ perhaps. ‘BIG AL,’ maybe?”

Ailn shrugged exaggeratedly.

“And what reason would I have to shatter my own sword, Your Grace?” Aldous asked. His jaw was really clenching. This wasn’t just anger. This was strain and tension. “When I could simply take it with me?”

“Because your sword was already broken,” Ailn said. His voice was a note quieter as he said it. “...I cut it.”

For some reason, the not-so-subtle gloating that had made his speech so aggravating started to leave his voice. If anything, this should have been his most triumphant moment. But Ailn looked rather melancholy.

Making it eminently clear for all the knights in the chapel, without a hint of flippancy left in his expression, the detective said it again.

“Ailn eum-Creid defeated Sir Aldous Ferme in sword combat,” he said. “...And you were utterly humiliated by it.”

Renea was visibly moved.

Her eyes were glistening, but they were wide and bright. Clasping one arm across her chest, she lightly touched her collar just above her heart, and seemed to stand slightly taller.

“You weren’t just hiding your culpability. You were protecting your pride. You didn’t want anyone to know that the beaten down noble kid—the weakling and coward who never got his due respect—beat you in a sword fight,” Ailn said. “So, you committed the ultimate heresy. You attacked me with the divine blessing, fully intending to kill.”

“This is absurd,” Aldous said, his voice growling.

“First, you missed,” Ailn threw up a finger. “That was the sheds. The second time you were right on the mark. That’s what hit me and caused the blunt force trauma and lesions. And when I was down for the count… you took your already broken sword, and shattered the hilt. You gathered the pieces that would’ve spelled out your name.”

As Ailn held up three fingers to indicate the three uses of holy aura, Aldous, instead of coming to his own defense, continued to simmer with rage. “...Then you did something cheeky.”

“You left me by the shattered sword, so everyone would think it was mine—the perfect way to accentuate the humiliation my death was meant to be,” Ailn said, his voice grave and his eyes sharp. “...And when you had to head to the bestowal ceremony, there was a simple solution to your problem of being the only knight in the castle without a sword.”

Ailn pointed nonchalantly to the sheath at Aldous’s waist. He let the moment hang in the air, as his piercing gaze locked onto Aldous’s furious eyes.

“What I’m saying, Aldous… is that I’d like my sword back.”

He said it like he lent a cup of sugar.

Murmurs moved through the pews. The knights, observing quietly, had been moved to pity instead of anger. Pity for the young noble who was grasping for dignity so desperately that he succumbed to delusions of grandeur.

‘Have any of the knights ever bested Aldous’s blade?’

‘It is a symptom of his change in temperament. A subtle illness of the mind.’

‘Perhaps it is better to let the boy dream… What harm is it?’

But the young noble and the old knight paid the crowd no attention. The rabble had no place in their icy standoff. Liberated from whims and now bound solely to facts, the case was drawing to its conclusion—and Ailn stared down the cornered wolf.

"Show us the sword, Aldous,” Ailn said quietly.

“Seize it from me, if you believe yourself so mighty,” Aldous snarled.

“If you’ve got nothing to hide, then show us the sword Aldous!” Ailn shouted.

The slightest unease began to spread among the knights. Sir Dartune, sensing this and acting on their behalf, rose from the pews and genially approached the high marshal.

“Sir Aldous,” he raised his arms placatingly, “indulge the boy’s delusions and end this farce, would you?”

The heavyset master-at-arms had no way of knowing that Aldous’s aura would lash fiercely at him—but his reflexes were quicker than his fitness would imply, and he shielded his face with his own aura.

He only gawked for a moment before he rushed at Aldous with a tackle, followed by Ailn and Kylian, then a number of other knights who rushed in to suppress him.

“Aldous!” Dartune yelled. The effort was clear on his face as he worked to hinder Aldous’s violent stir. “What the hell is the matter with you?!”

“Restrain his arms!” Kylian shouted at the other knights.

The majestic dragon that was Aldous’s aura—the once proud manifestation of his divine blessing—writhed at his subduers, wind swirling in the abbey. The subduing knights were forced to use their aura in concert to impede his, and Aldous’s physical strength alone was nearly enough to throw them off.

But it was not the knights who ultimately overwhelmed him. It was Sophie, whose holy aura smashed against the frenzying dragon, dissipating it at once—and also inadvertently knocked the knights plus Ailn off of him.

It was no matter. The burst of white light quickly coalesced, first arcing into a ribbon, then tapering to a sharp point, like a rapier poised at his neck.

“Brandish the sword, or I’ll kill you,” Sophie said coldly.

Aldous was breathing heavily from the exertion of his resistance. But, he seemed to recognize the futility of his situation, as he suddenly looked very calm. The smallest glimmer of fight had returned to Aldous’s eyes. And that worried Ailn.

“Just so I may be certain, Your Grace,” Aldous said, sweat beading on his brow, “your assertion is that your name should be inscribed upon this blade.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“...Something like that,” Ailn said, alarms going off in his head. What else would the original Ailn inscribe?

“Shall we inspect it then?” Aldous asked, his hand reaching to draw the sword.

His fingers set upon the hilt.

“Eveliscia!” Renea called out. “The inscription on Ailn’s sword is eveliscia!”

Her voice rang out in the abbey. She said a single word. One that no one else in attendance knew, because it was of the ancient language.

“To think you’d even… lie about this,” Renea said, sadly.

The abbey was quiet once again, save for the hum of Sophie’s aura. Still shaking from her fear of the man, Renea walked toward the subdued high marshal with stiff steps.

“I’m the one who bought that sword for Ailn,” Renea said. There were tears in her eyes, but finally, there was also righteous anger. “I bought him a sword of steel, with no orichalcum, because I knew he was a great swordsman.”

Aldous, watching her approach, stayed silent.

“Please… return Ailn’s sword,” Renea said.

For the very last time, Renea and Aldous met eyes.

At this point his defeat was obvious. The glimmer searching for victory had disappeared, but Aldous’s eyes weren’t lifeless. He watched quietly, looking into Renea’s blue eyes which brimmed with pride.

And wordlessly, his eyes never leaving Renea’s, Aldous unsheathed the sword—the blade flickering in the light of Sophie’s aura. There, on the ricasso just above the guard, glinted the word eveliscia.

“The word eveliscia,” Renea said, her voice strained, “means ‘true and forever.’ To show that he was my brother no matter what. No matter his— his holy aura, or… the differences between us. It’s written on the inside of the pendant Ailn gave me.”

Her throat was tightening up, and her voice took on a brittle quality.

“True and forever,” Renea choked out, trying to blink away her tears. “My brother loved me for who I was. And he was a far greater man than you.”

This was their goodbye. And she didn’t hide the hurt in her eyes from him. Nor did Aldous shy away from the pain he’d caused.

He just watched. His guilt obvious, and the vote that would bring the noose at hand, it seemed Aldous saw fit to stare into the eyes of the miracle child one more time.

What he felt at that moment was anyone’s guess. And it was Renea who first turned away.

“Then… let us take a vote,” Kylian said.

The abbey was quiet, as Aldous made no more moves to defend himself. It had been forever since any of the knights had even seen him with a sword in hand.

It was an old, familiar sight. One that should have been comforting.

But the word eveliscia, glinting in the white, holy light of Sophie’s aura, changed the meaning of the sight entirely. Now ill-fitting, and stolen, it was no longer a warm reminder of bygone days. It was a lament, for the precious things that had been lost to even the future.

Even Aldous stared at it, the rest of his vision taken up by Renea’s retreating back.

----------------------------------------

Aldous had been voted guilty by a reluctant yet resounding ‘aye’ from every knight in attendance.

The day had been more tiring than one spent defending the northern wall. And every knight in the abbey wanted nothing more than to return to the barracks to get whatever fitful rest they could, considering its somber events.

Their emotions were complicated. Anguished by Aldous’s betrayal, and disappointed by Renea’s lies, many of them also felt a terrible guilt over how they’d behaved during the inquisition.

Truthfully, they wished that Kylian would read the air and skip the closing formalities, but the man was too earnest.

Now, there was just one formality left.

“Sir Aldous Ferme,” Kylian said. “You’ve been found guilty by the inquisition for the attempted murder of Ailn eum-Creid, and for treason against Varant. By the nature of your crimes, you will be granted no chance for appeal. Do you understand your circumstances?”

Aldous said nothing in response.

“You will be granted a final chance to speak. Say your final piece before the Order of the Azure Knights,” Kylian said.

But again, Aldous said nothing. Judging by the look on his face, it didn’t seem as if he were holding back.

“Do you not… at least have words for your daughter, Aldous?” Kylian asked. His question was sincere, less for Aldous’s sake than Sophie’s.

A glimmer returned to Aldous’s eyes, as if he found this an interesting question. Then, turning to the girl in the maid outfit, who’d been doing her best to keep her contemptible father out of her eyes, he called out.

“Become a fine Saintess like your mother.”

And that was all he said, not even looking in Sophie’s direction as he was detained and led out of the abbey.

Kylian regretted his meddling, seeing Sophie's absolutely stricken look.

Perhaps more than anyone else, it was her whose mask had been most forcibly pulled off during the inquisition.

He’d never say it to her, but her almost feral anger toward her father, and the stoicism with which she tried to mask it—both these things made clear the father and daughter’s resemblance.

Her mother’s piercing gaze. Plus her father’s measured ferocity.

And a stronger command of the divine blessing than the two of them combined.

Kylian was certain of it: the only thing keeping the knights from losing all hope today was the sight of Sophie’s holy aura, no longer hindered by the act she and Renea had heretofore maintained. It was so radiant, its hum almost heavenly, that even Kylian found himself moved by it.

This girl might truly be the one who finally dispels the darkness.

But the bitterness that remained on her face when she tried to restrain all her rage and sorrow made him wonder if she, like her father, might not yield to it herself.

It was only the sight of Renea and Ennieux comforting her that gave him relief. Perhaps that was all Sophie needed—he could see her stoic mask give way to simple unfettered sadness.

----------------------------------------

Ailn didn’t really feel like he fit anywhere, after the proceedings.

It was almost worse now that he’d made those promises to the original Ailn. If he hadn’t, he really would’ve just skulked off by now, as the detective who solved the case and had nothing else to do with it.

He was in a no man’s land of familial ties: not really sure if he should just go away, or go say kind words to them. There were definitely a lot of dark feelings still floating around. He got the sense a handshake and seeya weren’t going to cut it if he did pop in.

So, he caught Renea’s eyes and gave her a thumbs up. That would be good enough for now. She made a confused face. No, actually, she looked a little irritated by it. But her expression softened, and she reluctantly returned it.

Neither of them really had the energy right now.

Ailn was in a good enough mood to celebrate though. He went looking for Kylian, so far his only real bond in this world.

“Your Grace,” Kylian said, sounding tired and a little surprised. “Shouldn’t you be talking to Lady Renea?”

“We had our… communication,” Ailn said, tiptoeing around the topic. “Let’s go grab a drink.”

Kylian made a face.

“I’m exhausted, Your Grace,” Kylian said.

“Just call me Ailn, already. Seriously.”

“I’m exhausted, Ailn.”

Ailn made his usual pose of wincing reflection trying to figure out how to rope Kylian in. Really, he didn’t care that much for drinking. But it gave him something to do while he smoked.

And he liked the bit of revelry after a case, where he relived his best moments and appreciated just how damn smart he was.

“Ailn, you should go spend time with your family,” Kylian said, morosely tired.

“Kylian, I’ve just had enough of my family for a damn lifetime. Let’s go drink.”

----------------------------------------

Her new brother was a kind person. That’s what mattered most to Renea; he’d cared enough to protect her, and she owed her life to him.

But she didn’t really want to talk to him right now. The ties binding them were complicated, and not something Renea wanted to navigate at the moment. Just wondering what she’d call him made both her head and heart ache.

No one seemed to pay her any mind as they left the abbey. No, it would be truer to say they were avoiding her.

The throng of knights seemed to push each other out, they were so eager to leave; Cairn jostled among their ranks; her new brother followed close behind and looked rather self-satisfied as he conversed with Sir Kylian.

Even Ennieux and Sophie had gone on ahead.

The abbey that had been so raucous earlier, its silence so pregnant with tension, was now completely empty. Renea, sitting quietly in its pews, struggled with a deep sense of emptiness herself.

She didn’t have any tears left. Just that hollow feeling.

“This will be the last time I wear this, then…” She ran her fingers along the silver embroidered into her robe, and brushed them against its soft fur. “This, too…” Renea lightly touched the circlet atop her head.

The act was over.

For a few minutes, Renea simply took in the feeling of solitude. She let her gaze wander the abbey, absentmindedly thwapping her sandals against the slate floor just to hear it echo. She liked to do that here when no one was around.

After idling a bit, Renea kneeled down to pray.

Her whole life, everything about her had been fake. But her prayers never were. It was the only thing she could do honestly, and so she always did it with all her heart.

She thanked God for a lot of things. For helping her through this painful day. For giving her more time in this world.

For letting her hear Ailn’s voice one more time, and for the repose of his soul.

Then she asked for guidance. To understand why her already strange family had increased by one, and why he’d been given Ailn’s body. As always, she asked God to help her continue the legacy of the true Renea—the infant who’d passed away, and whose place she’d taken.

She sought from God those same virtues she always had: wisdom, courage, serenity. The onus was on her to cultivate them, of course. But sometimes she felt so weak. So, she asked for one more thing today.

That God would give her hope.

Because kneeling there in the silence of the abbey, Renea found herself crushed by a feeling of desolation.

When she finished her prayers, she felt someone’s presence behind her, and turned her head to glance. It was Sir Fontaine. He must have stayed behind after the inquisition, quietly watching over her while she prayed.

Besides Sir Kylian, he’d been the only knight to defend her. Renea truly felt grateful to him.

“Sir Fontaine,” Renea greeted him with a semblance of a smile. “I didn’t realize you were there. I didn’t mean to be so rude…”

“I was merely watching you pray, Lady Renea,” Fontaine said, shaking his head. “Do not mind me. I stayed because I was moved by the sight.”

“Moved, you say?” Renea’s faint smile took on a note of chagrin, as her gaze drifted sideways to the floor. “I’m… just a normal girl, Sir Fontaine. And a liar. There’s no need for such reverence.”

“Why should that make it less moving?” Fontaine asked. He waited a moment before speaking again, giving Renea the time to meet his gaze. “Your devotion has inspired me since you were born.”

“Mine?” Renea blinked fast. “E-even though, I… I don’t have…I’m a fake…”

“Lady Renea, I have always believed your birth was a miracle,” Fontaine said. “And indeed, now I am surer than ever. You were brought here to do great things.”

“I don’t understand… why you’d believe that,” Renea said.

“Always, you’ve stood tall in the face of sorrow, My Lady,” Fontaine said, smiling a little sadly. “Faith is a quiet thing. And courage needs no divine blessing. Won’t you see yourself once, through this old man’s eyes?”

When Renea saw the sincerity in Fontaine’s eyes, she felt her own vision blur.

“I’ll—I’ll try…” Renea said.

She really thought she had no tears left. But through them, in exchange for the little bit of hope she received, Renea gave Sir Fontaine a big smile.

----------------------------------------

End of These Reincarnators Are Sus Vol. 1: Sinner in the Holy City

Renea ad [https://i.imgur.com/afYnFOB.png]