Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Arthur Leywin
Blackbend City was bustling with life as I stepped from the teleportation gate platform, the summer air pulling at my cloak. I put a hand over my head, making sure my signature auburn locks were hidden, alongside my mana signature.
"This place is different than what I expected," Sylvie said, her little fox form stuffed in my coat. Her ears peeked out a little as her slitted gold eyes peered over the milling crowds. "That man could have been nicer, too."
Sylv, of course, was referring to the gruff guard who had demanded to see my lower back upon leaving the teleportation gate. I'd complied, but the massive brute of a man could have done without the death glare or the killing intent.
Things are tense now, Sylv, I responded with a mental sigh, my eyes tracking over the city. Everywhere I looked, people bustled about with their chores as they sought to add to the war effort. Nobody can afford a slip.
Blackbend City was one of the core, integral parts of Dicathen's supply chains. Located at the headwaters of one of the Sehz River's mighty tributaries, it served as the go-between to the Wall–and by extension, the Beast Glades beyond–and the rest of Sapin.
Furthermore, control of the river that coursed along Sapin's southern border was sourced in the iron-walled city. Needless to say, it was a critical military and strategic outpost, and it showed in every action of the townsfolk around me.
Burly men hauled metal plates and scaffolding to the edges of the ringed walls, then were waved on by soldiers. Armed mages and contingents of the Triunion marched through the cobbled streets, reassuring the women as they worked to chisel arrowheads along the main thoroughfare.
They're carrying resources for the construction of the underground train to the Wall, I thought, weaving through the crowds.
My eyes lingered on a group of three adventurers as they hauled the corpse of a mana beast to a designated station for processing. Nothing would go to waste in that body, I knew. The tendons would be used to string bows and tie fletchings. The meat would feed a few families easily, and the fur would make resistant armor. The bones could be whittled and sculpted into arrowheads, or ground up for use in mana-conductive artificing.
The haunted expressions of the adventurer party and the blood staining their clothes told me that they were far from content with their victory. No, an aura of misery clung to them like a gravity spell that weighed down only their hearts.
Immediately, I knew why such dread ensorcelled the three. I could read it in how the conjurer nearly stumbled into a tall, lanky augmenter. She'd been expecting someone else to be there to stop her, but they hadn't. Another close-combat fighter belatedly turned, opening his mouth to scold the conjurer, but his maroon brows fell as he looked at them with defeat, unable to muster the strength. I could see the lines of loss carved into his brows like a meticulous sculpture, the emotion unwilling to escape. The final augmenter just looked away, ashamed.
They'd lost someone in their party.
I paused for a moment in the middle of the street, flashbacks of Jona as he mourned over Cedry sparking in my head. I watched as the three remaining mages tried to pretend that the gaping hole in their hearts didn't exist for a short time.
"It won't work, Arthur," Sylv thought to me, her emotions muted. "The reason you're here… It won't help. You know that."
I ignored the dragon stuffed into my tunic, instead inhaling the scent of industry all around. It was different from the bloodied corpses of the massacres I'd been to barely a few hours ago. Oil, freshly cut wood, metal, sweat, and grime from workers' bodies… It all meshed together in a tangle of wartime society.
There was tension in the air as every citizen performed their duties, like the haunting lull at the eye of a storm. Every adventurer I passed kept their shoulders tensed, like they were still in the depths of the Beast Glades. The soldiers that marched through the streets slammed the butts of their spears against the ground in a rhythm of war. A subtle haste propelled a group of washerwomen onward like wind nipping at their heels.
They couldn't know yet about the terror attacks ripping their country apart, but some part of this city knew that the lightning had already begun to strike.
They were just waiting for the thunder.
I kept my hood raised as I wove toward my predetermined destination near the outskirts of the city. Adventurers and lone mercenaries became more and more common as I roamed eastward.
I hopped up onto a nearby crate as I reached a specific section of the city, craning my neck as I searched with my eyes as much as my mana senses. The eastern gate of Blackbend—outlined in dark steel and standing as a stalwart barrier against all that would dare try and break into the powerful city—cast a shadow in tune with the walls as they stretched far into either distance.
I sensed them almost too late.
The doors were closing behind them, the wrought steel groaning shut like the lid of a chest as six mana signatures slowly left alongside a larger caravan.
I forwent all my caution as the six mages exited the city. I rose into the air, earning a few surprised shouts from the people around me. A few guards hastily called for me to cease and desist, but as my cowl fell back and my distinctive features were made visible to the air, they fell back into astonished muttering.
I flew upward, gritting my teeth as I suppressed my nausea and worry. I forced my hands not to clench at my sides as the ambient mana propelled me toward my targets.
Within my coat, Sylv shuffled nervously, radiating anxiety and discomfort over our bond. "Arthur, it's not going to go how you think it will," she thought to me as I crested the wall. "This is only going to result in pain."
This time, my hands did clench as I peered at the rolling hills past Blackbend's walls.
And how would you know? I asked bitterly, snapping mentally at my bond as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. You've never had to do something like this, Sylv.
A wave of hurt radiated over my nerves like singed ashes. "I have been doing something like this, Arthur," she thought back angrily. "I'm trying to convince my papa now to not do this. And do you think talking to your father is going to go any better? Your stubbornness is as much his as it is from your previous life."
I winced as my draconic bond scoffed. "Maybe you need to see for yourself. I thought I could convince you, but I can't. I see that now. But you don't see it yet."
This is different, I thought, trying to convince myself of that. Dad—Reynolds—he needs to pull himself from this war. Even from a logical position, it's the best thing to do. It's too risky in every way, especially with the massacres that are appearing now.
The wind whipped past my auburn hair as I hung in the sky, taking in the sight beyond Blackbend's walls with a nervous heart.
Only a little ways north of the deserts of Darv, the land was surprisingly fertile. One of the tributaries of the Sehz River Basin bordered the city on the eastern side, blocking most from an easy pathway to the Grand Mountains. Before the war, the fields on either side of the great thoroughfare of water were splashed with golden wheat and lifegiving crops, but now those had been replaced with military tents.
I could understand why. Blackbend City was a crucial part of the war effort. It allowed the Triunion militaries to project power along the Sehz River where it split Darv and Sapin in two. If it fell to the Alacryans, then the human kingdom would lose one of their greatest breadbaskets and transportation routes.
That was why the Wall was built so close by in the Grand Mountains. The Alacryans absolutely understood this crucial cornerstone of the Dicathian resistance, and if they could punch through from the Beast Glades to Blackbend, they'd effectively neuter any potential resistance from the southern borders of Sapin in one fell swoop, while also opening up an easy front for the dwarves of Darv.
My eyes drifted down to the street below, where a caravan pulled by a few skitters hauled goods north. I knew immediately they were on the path to the Wall, delivering supplies for an attack that might never come.
And six mages guarded them. People I'd known all my life.
Angela Rose laughed at something one of the caravan guards said, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Durden Walker stuck to his name: the burly earth conjurer strode demurely near the rear of the carriage train, easily in place for magical support if it was ever needed. Jasmine Flamesworth lounged atop one of the cloth roofs of the carriages, my childhood mentor looking supremely bored as she twirled her daggers through her hands. Helen Shard was at the head of the convoy, the half-elf's bow held in one hand and ready to fire at any time. Though she appeared relaxed, I knew from experience that she was ready for a fight even now in the city's supposed safety.
My mother sat on one of the benches of the lead carriage, smiling softly as she knitted something. Her auburn hair—my hair color—reflected the sunlight in a way that made my heart beat painfully in my chest. And walking beside her, a jaunty smile on his face and an unfamiliar beard grasping at his face, was my father.
I froze in the sky for a long moment, just staring down at the Twin Horns and my parents as they leisurely continued on their way. Memories of a time long gone drifted through my mind like cool springwater.
Back when everything was still simple: before the war, before the Vritra, before magic and power and despair, I'd ridden with those mages in a caravan just like that. I'd been bright-eyed and hopeful for the new life I'd found myself in. Mana was still this foreign, mystical energy that crafted wonders and wasn't a tool of utter war. My family was my family. My previous life could be discussed eventually. It was a problem for future Arthur.
Back in the days of my youth in this world, I could still feel hope. A kindling certainty that this time, I would be better and nothing could stand in my way. I hadn't been reforged and rehardened by battle and bloodshed. I hadn't yet fallen down that cliff to save my new parents and into the comforting grasp of Grandma Sylvia.
And even after her death—even after that dark Vritra soldier appeared to take her away—I'd still bore that naive hope for my future. With that last promise I'd made to Sylvie's mother, I'd believed that I could make lasting, unbreakable relationships to lighten the shade of Grey.
But back in those days, Adam had still been a part of the Twin Horns. His absence had always been a wound, but I hadn't known him as well as many of the others. I hadn't mourned for him in the same way the Twin Horns and my parents did.
Yet right now, I felt that death squeeze my heart in a way it never had before. Because without Adam, never again could I fool myself into believing things could go back to the idyllic way they were.
"Arthur," Sylv whispered from within my coat. "There is still hope."
I wiped away a single, traitorous tear that had started to escape my eye. "There must be," I replied quietly. "There must be hope, Sylvie."
I started lowering in the sky toward the earth, descending like a leaf on the wind. Jasmine, predictably, was the first to notice me. Her red eyes widened slightly as she shifted into a combat stance atop the carriage roof, calling on her wind magic and revving her mana core. But when she recognized who I was, her conjured spells fell away as she stared in utter surprise.
I spared her a playful wink as I floated down, allowing myself to be seen by the other caravan guards and travelers so as to not startle them too badly.
I wasn't entirely successful. The cries of "General!" and "Lance Godspell!" and all the subsequent bowing and reverence kind of took this in the opposite direction from what I wanted, but I felt that slight resignation ease as I locked eyes with the Twin Horns. Helen had strode confidently back toward me as I settled onto the dirt path, her eyes welcoming and inquisitive both. "Arthur!" she said, patting me on the shoulder familiarly. "Fancy seeing you here!"
Jasmine bounded off the carriage, striding forward ahead of the lumbering Durden as he smiled softly. She looked me up and down with worried red eyes as I thought over what I was going to say. "Hello, Arthur," she said quietly. "You're able to fly now, huh?"
"Yeah, I ascended to the white core not long ago," I said sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck. "It's a nice perk of being a Lance, I suppose."
My heartbeat rose painfully in my chest as a familiar mana signature approached. And as the muttering and uncertain guards watched the interaction between me and the Twin Horns with muted fascination and awe, I had to force my stomach not to do a somersault as they drifted closer.
"We were just on a routine visit to the Wall for a resupply," Helen said amiably. If she sensed my discomfort, she didn't show it. "Were you on the way there, too? There were rumors that a Lance was going to be stationed there pretty soon, after all."
Plans for that will probably change, I thought darkly, forcing myself to smile in spite of my thoughts. If small beast hordes are appearing across the continent, the deployment of a Lance to the Wall will probably be delayed.
"Not exactly," I said, trying not to think of the massacres that were occurring all across Sapin right now. Immediately after this, I'd have to return to patrolling and sweeping the countryside for more attacks with Sylv. "I have some news that I needed to deliver to my family."
Jasmine's dark brows furrowed as they caught on my words. She knew me better than the rest of the Twin Horns, and she no doubt sensed some of the tension I was restraining.
The muttering caravan guards parted at last as that familiar mana signature approached, and I turned to face them.
My father stood, his gauntlets already affixed to his hands. His broad shoulders blocked out the sun, taking up far more space than I remembered. He looked more tired than I last remembered, too, in his battle-scored leather armor and sporting a haircut and beard that had not seen tending-to in at least a week.
There was a somber sort of air about him, but when he saw me, he smiled brightly, that gloom seeming to slip off of him like a coat that didn't fit. He strode forward, throwing his arms wide and enveloping me in a massive hug. "Arthur, you've grown so much already!"
I froze at the action, thoughts of my last conversation with my parents tumbling like stones down the track of my thoughts. We'd fought about Adam again, as I'd demanded he and Mom refrain from entering the war.
Hesitantly, I hugged him back, careful to restrain my strength. "Hey, Dad," I said, smiling slightly as he squeezed. "While I appreciate the gesture, you're kind of suffocating Sylvie."
My dad blinked his eyes, the same light blue as mine, and hastily separated from me. He raised a brow in surprise as Sylvie's white fox form clawed out of my jacket, hacking and coughing.
"Oh, son," he said quickly, suddenly seeming very sheepish, "Or… Lady Sylvie. I did not intend to–"
Sylvie's angry thoughts smothered anything my father could've said. "The indignity!" she thought to me, glaring upward. "I am an asura, not some pet to be smothered in a coat!"
I laughed aloud at that, my tension easing as my shoulders shook. Suddenly, it didn't seem such a daunting task, what I was about to do. "That you are, Sylv. That you are."
I carefully took her from my coat, before orienting on an amused Jasmine. The wind augmenter was significantly less enthused once I dropped the ball of fur into her arms.
"Arthur, what is the meaning of this?" she said snippily, which was nearly more words than she'd ever said during our training. "Do you want me to look after–"
"Just for a time, Jasmine," I said, hoping the seriousness of my words carried in my voice. "I'll be back soon."
Dad's smile had progressively fallen as I spoke to the wind augmenter, that gloom shrouding him like a blanket once again as his eyes became more serious. I stared back at him, matching azure with azure. He slowly crossed his arms, no doubt sensing on some level why I was here.
"Arthur," Sylvie tried, peeking from where Jasmine was nervously holding the foxified dragon, "Just…"
I know, I replied after a moment, feeling resignation deep in my bones as I absorbed the rising resolve of my father as he stared me down. I know.
—
Reynolds and I strolled a ways ahead of the caravan, both of us mute as we put one foot in front of the other. I kept my hands shoved in my pockets, working my jaw as I tried to formulate the right words to say that would convey exactly what I needed.
The news of the massacres would likely spread like wildfire across the entire continent in the next few days, but right now I had a rare chance to speak to my family. To really convince them that what I wanted was right.
And Reynolds? He wasn't a fool. He knew immediately that a Lance dropping in out of nowhere on a departing caravan could only be because I wanted to talk to him.
"Your mother's going to be worried if we stray too far," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "We shouldn't outpace them too much."
"Yeah," I said lamely, keeping my gaze forward. "Yeah, you're right about that."
The quiet tinkle of birdsong rose from nearby copses of trees like an orchestra of nature. This close to Darv the landscape was mildly hilly, but mostly flat and plains-like. Not far away, a tributary of the Sehz River burbled like my thoughts.
Reynolds let me think as I gathered myself. Just like the time that felt like an age ago when I'd revealed the truth of my past life to him and Alice, he didn't interrupt or cut me off. Some part of him understood that I couldn't be rushed.
It was strange. I'd been a monster on the battlefield in my previous life. I'd seen the deaths of countless enemies from battle to battle. My name inspired fear in the hearts of all the enemies of Etharia as my armies methodically and efficiently broke my enemies.
Every time my forces lost a battle, we resurged, learning from our mistakes and winning the next time. I had made an art of learning from my mistakes in both swordsmanship and military tactics. There was a wrong way, and there was a right way. Often, it was as simple as that.
But conversations like these always snuck up on me. I failed at them again and again no matter how many times I had them. It felt sometimes that I was destined to repeat the same cycles instead of learning from them.
I took a deep breath, then braced. I just needed to say it. "You and Mom need to withdraw from the war," I said sharply. "Things have changed, Dad. I can't do this if I know you're out in the field."
Reynolds didn't respond for a while. Just like me, he kept his gaze forward, but I could see the clench in his jaw as he struggled to maintain calm. He kicked a rock in his path, and it went soaring fast enough to kill any unfortunate bird that might intercept it.
"How many times do we need to have this fight, Arthur?" he finally replied, his voice laced with irritation. "How many times do we need to tell you that we have a right to fight for our country, too?"
"That's not what this is about," I said back, restraining my own anger. "I just got back from a mission that has shifted the Council's entire perspective of this war. I needed to talk to you before it became widespread news."
"Why? Have the Alacryans suddenly retreated back to their continent?"
"No," I replied, smelling phantom blood and feeling the wraith-like traces of Grey across my mind. "We don't know how yet, but the Beast Horde didn't hit the Wall. They've been indiscriminately attacking towns and killing thousands."
Reynolds froze in his tracks, nearly tripping as my words reached him. He turned to look at me, his eyes wide as I continued.
"That's why you can't stay in the war," I argued, turning to look at my father as the momentum of my words carried me on. "It's not just about soldiers fighting soldiers now, like you thought it was. Now it's indiscriminate death and destruction. The rules of this war have changed. I know you want to make a difference, but you can't. Not like this."
My father's azure eyes traced over me as I stared at him resolutely. He had to understand. I'd been in far more wars than he had. More wars than anybody on this continent. I was best suited to comprehend exactly what was happening and how little a single soldier meant.
To my benefit, he appeared to have calmed slightly as my words finished. His shoulders had loosened, and the angry creases in his face had vanished.
He gets it, I thought with a small note of triumph. I clenched and unclenched my fists, waiting for his response. He'll–
"How does this change anything?" he finally asked, his words crashing through my carefully composed mental state like a battering ram through a castle gate. "Arthur, this only cements what we need to do more."
More? More?!
The anger I'd tried to keep in check boiled over. "More?!" I snapped, my mana pulsing outward, "More?! Dad, don't you get it? If you fight in this war, then everyone you know—everyone—is going to die. Just like Adam! You'll die pointlessly and emptily! You'll leave everything behind!"
I marched forward, struggling to keep my aura contained as I stared Reynolds in the eyes. Mine raged like the most tempestuous sea. I'd grown these past few months. I was as tall as he was, nearly taller. But he still couldn't see from my point of view.
Agrona's mocking words from barely a month ago burned in the back of my skull. He'd warned me that this war would be more deadly than any I'd experienced in my past life. And I was terrified that he might be right.
That fear had been building for so long. It had peaked when I'd witnessed the massacres, and now it had finally found eruption.
"Do you have any idea what this war will do?" I snapped, barely a foot away from my father. "You don't! You've never been in war. You've never fought a true battlefield, so of course you don't get it. But that's all there is, Reynolds. And every. Single. Time. Every single time we talk, you don't understand what it means."
The fist that smashed into my jaw didn't make me budge an inch, but it was my mind that reeled. Something in Reynolds' hand broke as it crashed against my chin. He didn't seem to feel it as he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, staining it with his blood.
"I knew what war meant the moment Adam died!" he yelled, his temper erupting in turn as his face took on a demonic cast. "You think that I haven't asked myself what the point was? You think I haven't talked with shadows on the wall?"
He pushed me away, and this time I stumbled. Reynolds' face was as red as the blood I'd seen in the catastrophe. The yellow earth mana swirling around his fists seemed wrong in that moment. It should have been red fire.
"You don't even get how selfish you're being, Arthur. Just because you got a second chance, you think this world should bend to your whims?" he yelled, throwing out his hands wide.
"No!" I yelled back, finding my footing on the uneven ground. "But if you truly understood war, you wouldn't be out here, ready to die for nothing!"
Reynolds took a long, deep breath. He inhaled, then let it out in a manner reminiscent of meditation. "We only die for nothing if nobody picks up the torch after we've dropped it," he said, stomping out the embers of his anger. "You're right. Adam's death was pointless. It was empty. He didn't kill a Retainer or beat back the Alacryans or anything. The only people who will remember and mourn him are us. You were a King, yet somehow you don't understand it."
I wanted my dad to still be angry. Somehow, the act of his cooling rage only made me more furious. Anger was easier to fight, to beat against like an enemy. But I didn't have a target now. "Then what don't I understand?" I barked back mockingly, raising my arms. "You just admitted I was right. And if I'm right, then–"
"There are things bigger than us," Reynolds said, his voice quiet as his ashen hair shadowed his eyes. "The deaths of everyone around us are only meaningless if we let their drive die with them. The Alacryans want to take everything we've ever known. Our tiny desires for happiness are unimportant in the face of that. Our individual wants are a worthy sacrifice for those we love."
He raised his head, looking at me in a way that made my mana core clench and goosebumps trail along my skin. "That's something you don't understand, Arthur. You think you're the only one allowed to sacrifice yourself, because then it will be all okay. But what happens when you get yourself killed, and you're just another meaningless 'Adam?' " Reynolds said, halfway between a lament and a sneer.
I couldn't maintain it anymore. That burning funeral pyre wavered at my father's words, the genuine question in his eyes making the acclorite in my blood freeze. "If that happens, then there won't be a war after. It will be enough to win."
"Is that what your experience as King Grey tells you?" my father asked instead, his shoulders slumping. "You've been through war. What are the chances of that?"
I didn't answer, feeling shame crawl with tiny legs through every crevice of my thoughts. I turned away from my father, instead inspecting the long path ahead.
"This war is bigger than you or me, son," Reynolds said, his voice soft. He approached slowly, something weary in his soul. "I want nothing more than for things to be like they were in Xyrus so many years ago, with your mother, your sister, and you all together. But no family will be able to have that life if we don't fight for this."
"I don't know if I can do this if you all die," I said quietly, feeling like a child crying in the rain. "You're all I have. You. Mom. Ellie. Tess. Sylv. You're everything."
A strong arm wrapped around my shoulder for a time in a comforting way. I was stronger than any mage in this war, but I felt so weak. My father shouldn't need to lift me back up.
"There are thousands of mothers and fathers and sisters and lovers and bonds out there, not just yours or mine," Reynolds said with grave exhaustion. "You got a second chance in this world, son. But how many others will? We need to make the world they can live in safely. We can't trust some illusory deities to give those we love another try."
"But I… I don't care about them," I admitted with a raw voice. "Not like I do you all. I'm… I'm selfish. I want everything to go my way this time."
Dad was quiet for a few seconds as he processed my words. "I don't know what it's like to be a king," he said after a moment. "But I know what it means to be a soldier. And sometimes, all we can do is what we can, even if it means that it hurts those around us."