Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Arthur Leywin
Tessia didn't explain anything more, despite my pushes and protests. She simply turned, telling me that the Council was being gathered. What members could be gathered.
The next few minutes were a whirl of activity and slowly rising panic as questions churned in the back of my mind.
We were silent as Sylvie, Tess, and I marched toward the council room like convicts approaching the guillotine. The fact that the Alacryans had somehow attacked Tess and Gramps in the heart of the elven forest wasn't lost on me. The implications of it all–not just of the fact that Virion was somehow comatose, for reasons that hadn't been explained to me yet–swam through my head as I gritted my teeth.
Sylvie held Tessia's hand as we walked, taking on the role of an older sister as she gave my childhood friend something to use to anchor herself. Tessia didn't squeeze her hand back, but neither did she take it away.
The large, embellished doors of the council room stood like beckoning gates to a doomed trial. Though the golden filigree and ornate symbols on the doors usually evoked a sense of grandeur and impossible size, now they only seemed to mock our antlike forms for daring to approach.
Yet Tessia didn't hesitate as she reached the doors. She gently pulled her hand from Sylvie's, then pushed open the door.
And as the council room revealed itself to me, my earlier statement only became more certain.
An aura of death pervaded every person in sight, clinging to their skin and making their cheeks hollow. The former king and queen Glayder both sat limply in their seats, looking as if they were already corpses. Across from them, Alduin Eralith's cheeks were stained wet with tears.
His wife was not by his side.
The only councilmember who didn't appear to have the life drained from them in some sort of vivum spell was Elder Buhndemog Lonuid. He alone stood, his overly muscled form tense and agitated. He glared down at the table, though, unwilling to voice a word.
It was deadly silent as Tessia led me inside. Aya Grephin refused to look in our direction from where she stood behind Alduin, and Varay's eyes were even icier than usual. Even Bairon Wykes appeared unsettled, his expression darkened by indecipherable emotion.
Aya is here, I immediately noted, and Merial Eralith is not.
The attention of all present slowly shifted to my childhood friend as she marched into the room. Solemn and tear-red eyes honed in on her, each whispering quiet despair and condemnation.
Normally, I would sit by the council table whenever I took part in the meetings. But right now, with the stares of the most powerful people in the continent quietly demanding some sort of divine message from my childhood friend, I felt I couldn't leave.
Sensing my quiet decision, Sylvie moved to Tessia's left, hoping to bolster the elven princess with her presence. In turn, I stood on her right, hoping that I was welcome. Even if I had… lied with my silence, I knew the elven princess well enough to understand what must be going through her mind right now.
I was already starting to put together the pieces, Grey's analytical mind churning like clockwork in the back of my head. Lance Aya's uniform was battered and worn–not as truly decimated as Tessia's was. But her mana signature still showed signs of quiet exhaustion like Tess'. The shame in her normally glassy eyes was haunting as she refused to look down at the elven princess.
And Merial wasn't here, while Alduin wept.
Somehow, Zestier had been attacked. Merial, Virion, and Tess had fought, and only one emerged whole.
"Well, lass," Elder Buhnd said gruffly, resting his tree-trunk thick arms on the table as he leaned forward, "I heard ya've got some bad news for us. We've all heard a little of it, but better to show the broken pickaxe than keep usin' it."
Tess raised a hand, brushing her hair to the side to retain a modicum of order. She shifted her stance as she stared up at the council, slowly beginning to look more like the regal princess I knew once more.
"Three hours ago, three Alacryan infiltrators managed to pierce the veil of Elshire mist protecting our capital, Zestier," she said sharply, turning up her chin in solemn resolve. Her gemstone eyes passed over the entire council. "Two Retainers and another Vritra."
The council listened with rapt attention and rising horror as Tess recounted the attack with the precision of a soldier delivering an after-battle report. My mood darkened into smoldering pitch the longer the tale went on, but the councilmembers were growing more and more agitated by the second. Alduin in particular no longer sat in his chair. He paced back and forth as his daughter told him of her battle with the tree-melding Vritra.
"Councilwoman Merial was wounded in an effort to protect the teleportation gates," Tess said succinctly. "She is receiving care from the best emitters in Zestier, but it is because of her actions that the entire teleportation network in Elenoir remains uncompromised."
There was no wavering in Tess' voice. No tremble in her lips—something I found astonishing.
She had grown strong.
"But you killed the one who did this," Alduin whispered, though it somehow felt like a scream. From the slump of the former monarch's shoulders, I felt that he wanted to yell. That he wanted to shout. But he didn't have the strength. "They can't pierce our veils anymore, can they?"
"I slew Bivran in battle," Tess said with an aura of stone, so unlike the young girl I used to know. "But despite my victory, there were still wounded."
Tess continued her story, elucidating how she brought her wounded mother to the Healers' Guild. I ground my teeth as she spoke of the Retainer Mawar's return, their tense standoff, and then…
Tess fell quiet, for the first time seeming to shrink inward as the weight of whatever came next swelled up within and around her, compressing her slim shoulders inward with the force of a hundred gravities.
"But Commander Virion was bested in his fight," Tess said at last. "The enemy injected his core with a toxin—a corruption. One meant to darken and twist their insides. It did not kill our Commander, but none of the emitters in Zestier have managed to wake him. It spreads like an infection across his mana veins and channels, leaving only shadow in its wake." Her eyes drifted to the side, staring at me knowingly even as the council fell into mute shock again.
I felt a chill slowly work through my nerves as we stared at each other for an unending infinity, an unspoken message passing between us. Because we both knew who that toxin was meant for.
Spellsong had removed a taint from Tessia's Beast Will, afterward claiming that it had allowed Agrona to track her. That the High Sovereign could detonate it at any time. And if what Tess said was correct, then this toxin that struck Gramps wasn't meant for him.
My teeth clenched as I considered this. The Council, too, seemed to be in grim shock, even as Tess continued to explain how the Retainer Mawar had surrendered after the death of Bilal.
The death of a Retainer and the capture of another, however, was inconsequential to the news of Virion's defeat.
"They tried to heal him," Alduin said slowly. "But… they failed, you said? And my father, he's corrupted. Like the mana beasts are," he continued weakly, his shoulders slumping as he sank into his chair. It seemed to swallow him like a grave.
Nobody spoke into the silence. Because, if Virion–the Commander of this war–were removed–
"We need more troops in Elenoir," Alduin said suddenly, a shifting nervousness overcoming him as he stood abruptly. His voice rose sharply as he puffed out his chest, his body trembling slightly. "The Alacryans are focusing their attacks on Elshire, now! We need to divert troops there to prevent this from happening again!"
"And what good would more troops do, Alduin?" Blaine sneered, but it was a weak imitation of his usual haughtiness, of the arrogance he wore like a cloak. "The Vritra that allowed the Retainers to infiltrate is dead, killed by your very daughter. You won't have another attack because of that." I thought I saw a measure of approval in the old human king's eyes as he referenced Tess, but it was gone too fast. "And even if the Alacryans staged one attack on Elenoir, there are still dozens of attacks happening all over Sapin every day! You lost, what? A score of elven lives today? While there are thousands lost from the massacres in my kingdom!"
Alduin whirled on Blaine, his fists clenched at his sides. "So you would be content to just let the people of Elenoir be slaughtered, then? All while reserving elven lives in your armies to fight human battles?" the former elven king accused, his eyes dancing with suppressed rage. "So like your father, Blaine."
If before the council room had felt dead, now it felt like a powder keg ready to blow. I didn't have all the context for why, but I knew instinctively that Alduin had crossed a line. Tess raised a hand to her mouth, staring at her father in shock. Priscilla's eyes hardened as she forced herself to remain calm, but the worst part…
Bairon's mana crackled slightly, and I could sense Varay's ice slowly choking the room. Aya's expression was blank as her mana radiated outward as well, sensing the volcano that was about to erupt.
And finally, like a spark in gasoline, it blew. Blaine pushed himself to his feet, seeming to heave his body as if it weighed a dozen tons as he glared spitefully at Alduin. His face was as crimson as his hair, but when he spoke, it was with forced, vindictive calm. "Don't forget that it is human healers that even allow your wife to live at all right now," he snapped, his hair flaring. "You want to take back your soldiers, Alduin? You want to keep elves in Elshire? Then I'll take back all the humans, too."
Alduin threw a punch laden with grief and frustration at the former human king. The Lances prepared their spells. Tessia began to cry out in alarm, and Elder Buhnd was trying to move across the table to intervene.
I stepped forward, the space around me warping.
And I appeared between the two monarchs. I caught Alduin's punch with ease, my eyes hard as I held him fast. Blaine, who had clearly been bracing for the blow, stumbled back in surprise at my sudden teleportation.
I turned hard eyes to the Lances all around me as their mana revved, silent warning threading into the air. "This isn't a barroom. This isn't a pit of mud or arena for combat," I said gravely. "If you cannot communicate with words, then you shouldn't speak at all," I made the ultimatum with all the cold familiarity of Grey.
My intent suppressed those of the white core mages around me, pressing around and in on them as they were forced to recognize the power I wielded. I stood between the two theoretical sides, a foot in both worlds as I became a living barrier.
"And who's to say we can communicate at all?" Blaine said, an undercurrent of vitriol still in his voice. "I know you see it, boy Lance. Alduin would happily withdraw all the elves from Sapin's front just because his family was threatened. Any time harm comes to them, he forsakes the duty of his people for the very few." The former human king's eyes darkened. "He doesn't care about the sanctity of this Council. Not compared to his family."
"And what man wouldn't?!" Alduin bellowed, fresh tears streaming down his face as his arms shook weakly. "Tell me you have never put the lives of your loved ones beyond your people, Blaine! Look me in the eyes and lie!"
Blaine gritted his teeth, but he did not respond.
For the first time, it was Priscilla who spoke up. "Watch your tone, Councilman," she said in a strained voice. "We are monarchs. That means we must do what others cannot. What they are too weak to do! And sometimes that means making sacrifices! Even if it means our families are at stake!"
Alduin thrust a finger toward Tessia down below, who was clutching Sylvie's shoulders for support. "Hypocrite!" he snapped with accusation. "You are a hypocrite, Priscilla Glayder! You voted with us to send my daughter to our home to protect her!"
As the men around me snapped their jaws at each other in growing frustration, I felt it building. Clawing and worming its way through my gut. The outside world seemed to lose its color as life bled from my perception. The echoes of my past life as Grey became resounding drumbeats across my skull while councilors struggled to tear each other apart. Etharia, Dicathen… It was all the same. I stood stock-still, feeling it grow, compounding within.
But before it could burst, someone else interrupted.
"Enough!" Elder Buhndemog roared, finally placing himself between the bickering humans and elves. "Look at yourselves, bickerin' and squabblin' like fuckin' children!"
His voice carried through the entire council chamber, swallowing the words of everyone else. It stunned the two deteriorating sides into silence like a punch to the gut. Buhnd slammed his fist into the council table, making it shudder and crack. "Now we are going to talk this out like reasonable people and not snivellin' babes," he snapped, fire punctuating his words. "Without Virion, there is still a war to be won. Every day, my people are subverted and tricked by the monstrous Vritra. And what do I do? I work with ya! Even when all of your attention is elsewhere! So pull up your fuckin' bootstraps and pull your heads out of your arses!" he boomed, slamming another fist into the table.
I didn't realize it, but my fists had been clenched as my mana churned inside of my core. The councilors–while still angry–looked momentarily ashamed.
Virion had only been gone for a few hours, and already the greatest people on this continent were itching to tear out each other's throats. Even as they averted their eyes, quietly chastised by Buhnd's rebuke, I found myself wondering. Questioning, deep inside. Without Gramps to keep it all together, how long could it last? If Dicathen wanted to win this war, we needed unity. A collected front to battle the Vritra and their bloody schemes.
Divided, we would fall–and we were already so, so divided. How long until the Council reached the edge?
Fate, it seemed, was a cruel, cruel mistress. Because I got my answer.
A horrendous, blaring noise echoed from Elder Buhnd's pockets. He cursed, grappling with his jacket for a moment before he finally pulled a communication scroll from the inner folds. "What now, you pricks?" he snapped, clearly agitated as his massive fingers struggled to turn off the alarm gem at the top as it flashed red and pulsed with sound mana. "Do they have no sense of what they're interrupt–"
Elder Buhnd's features paled, his rough skin becoming whiter than a sheet as he read whatever was on the communication scroll. His hands didn't tremble, but they didn't need to for us all to see the damned words on the scroll.
Because in big, choppy letters, a message had been scrawled as if it were the last thing the person had ever done.
Vildorial under attack. Falling back. City lost. Overrun.
The Council was silent once more, stunned. Already exhausted from the charged conversations before, they didn't even have the wherewithal to come up with a plan of response, to even order some sort of counterattack or order troops to reinforce Vildorial, the largest bastion of Council presence in Darv.
And if Darv fell, then Sapin would be fighting a battle on all fronts. My military mind could imagine it—the human kingdom was already ravaged within its borders and facing harrying attacks along the Wall. If another front were suddenly opened in earnest along their southern border, they'd have no way to truly resist.
My eyes drifted to Sylvie as she stood ramrod straight on the floor not far away, her arm around Tess' shoulders. I remembered how Agrona had promised this war would be bloody and brutal through her lips—and as I thought about it more in the horrified silence, I realized that I could see it. The marks of intention and a well-crafted beatdown to everything that held the union of Dicathen together. Take away the Commander, efficiently breaking elven resolve and enforcing a desire to reinforce their borders. And then break Darv, leading the Council to choose. The biased councilors would have to choose between Elenoir and Sapin, all without the level head and steadying hand that was Virion Eralith.
Agrona is a genius, I thought distantly. A mastermind. This… This is a masterstroke: Two swift cuts sever the arteries, leaving us to bleed out onto the cold, hard earth.
"You can't give up, Arthur," Sylvie thought, marching over to me with Tess in tow. The elven princess—who had looked so regal and poised earlier—appeared hollow as she trailed behind my bond. "That's what he wants! That's how he wins. We can fight this somehow. There must be a way."
I felt strangely loose as her words washed through my thoughts. If there is a way, I don't see it, I thought absently as I watched the councilors descend into another fit of arguing and back-and-forth bickering. Now, however, it was like I was watching it all play out from afar. I was staring down at the slow collapse of the Triunion from above, not within.
Grey made it easier to watch. Easier to understand.
"Papa, there is always a way," Sylv started, sensing as I dipped deeper into that murky pit. She marched right up to me, clasping my shoulder and holding it tight. By her side, Tessia stared at me with eyes of empty emerald. "We just need to–"
"It is clear that this council of lessers, which we left in the hopes of being able to support itself, has failed," a familiar, even voice cut through the air like the tip of a sword. Elder Buhnd's resounding chastisement from earlier had made the room tremble and shake, but these words? They seemed to make the mana itself tremble with unseen force.
I turned robotically as the familiar aura radiated outward, feeling something in my gut clench. I could sense that aura better now. In a way I hadn't before.
Aldir Thyestes, arrayed in black battle armor with only his third eye open, stood just past the council doors. The pantheon asura radiated a carefully controlled aura–like a swirling thunderstorm, a rockslide, wildfire, and torrential flood all packed into one impossibly tranquil singularity. His long gray hair was tied into a simple ponytail as he observed the suddenly silent council, nothing different about him since the last time I'd seen him.
Except for one thing: he'd brought someone else with him. Someone I vaguely recognized.
The other figure wore minimalist martial robes trimmed with squarish-gold patterns. Dark undertones made his pale, shaved head stand out even more. His olive-green eyes flickered with masked contempt as he stared out at us all, focusing on me in particular as his lips twitched.
Taci Thyestes looked older than the last time I'd sparred him: nearly as old as I was. And from the power he kept contained, I knew he had grown as well. A spear red as blood seemed to cut the atmosphere itself as it stayed glued to the young pantheon asura's hand.
I should have felt relieved at their appearance. Should have felt reassured by asuran presence. Ever since I'd returned from my battle against Jagrette, we'd been lacking asuran direction. Agrona himself had told me the warriors of Epheotus had led a failed assault against Taegrin Caelum, thus succeeding in negotiating a pact of noninterference. But something in Taci's expression made me hesitate.
Instead, it was my bond that stepped forward, radiating power as she tried–and failed–to match Aldir's. She put herself between the Council and the two asura, her chin upturned as she embraced the strength of her bloodline.
"Aldir and Taci Thyestes," she said, sheltering the rest of the humans here from their auras, "It has been a long time since this Council has been graced by the warriors of Epheotus."
Over our mental link, I could tell that my bond was just as unnerved and worried—no, even more so—than I was at the appearance of these asura. Yet she refused to communicate why.
Aldir bowed slightly in respect, his hands clasped behind his back. "Lady Sylvie Indrath," he said. "You have grown in power and prowess as a young asura. Indeed… your grandfather would be proud. I am glad to see you have pushed past the seal your mother placed on you, at least in part."
At his side, Taci bowed even deeper than his master.
Sylvie looked between them, waiting. Finally, Aldir acquiesced. "It is clear that, without the leadership of the lesser being, Virion Eralith, the Dicathian resistance as a united front will inevitably crumble," he said succinctly, casually uttering the words that all were afraid to put a voice to.
I took a few steps forward, standing a ways behind my bond. Behind me, the Council shuddered in shame and uncertainty as Aldir's proclamation, like the mandate of a god, struck true to their hearts.
"And you have a solution to this?" Sylvie said, doubt deep in her voice.
"Indeed, Lady Sylvie," Aldir said, resting a gauntleted hand on Taci's back. "He is here, with the full confidence of Lord Indrath himself."
Taci stepped forward, his eyes sweeping over the council as if they were interesting pieces on a gameboard. He spared me no attention at all. "My name is Taci Thyestes," he said, his voice somewhere between stern and angry despite the impassive expression on his war-tattooed face. "I have been tasked with proving myself to Lord Indrath through leading your armies to victory in this war with the lessuran scum of Alacrya. I will take the place of your Commander and ensure that every single one of your encounters emerges as a victory for Lord Indrath," he said succinctly, his chin upturned.
"And we bring other gifts from the Lord of Epheotus as well," Aldir continued nonchalantly. When he withdrew his hands from behind his back, there was a simple, ornate box settled there. Within was a scepter that positively radiated aether and mana in a way that made my teeth clench. "Lord Indrath has seen your plight, lessers of Dicathen. Despite his earlier reservations, he will invest more in this continent. In my hands are the means to push your Lances beyond their current limitations, giving your people a true fighting chance against the Vritra's legions."
I could sense it: the change in the air around us as hope began to swell in the Lances and councilors behind me. They felt it—the resurgence of possibility. With Epheotus on their side, they could win this war. Even without Virion's assistance, we could push our mages beyond their limits. Yet I stared into Taci's olive-yellow eyes.
And I saw disdain.
I took a few steps forward, moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my bond. Taci's brow furrowed in anger for a reason I couldn't discern, his mouth opening to speak.
"What does this mean for the treaty?" I ground out instead as I stared at Aldir, shifting my stance into something solid. Not the same one as Aldir, but the turn of my jaw and squaring of my shoulders told him that I wouldn't take a half-answer. "Agrona delivered the news to me himself of why you and Windsom withdrew from our Council in the first place. He negotiated you out of this war. Is returning here not a breach?" I pressed, my eyes darkening.
Taci's intent began to leak out as I spoke. "You question my master, lesser?" he said, his fists clenched around his spear. The power that radiated from him was absurd, and I was sure that if I had not grown in strength so rapidly, it would have seen me gasping for air. "These are the words of Lord Indrath himself. What place do you have to challenge them?"
I pressed outward with my mana, silently calling on the aether as well. Around me, I rebuffed Taci's sweltering intent, feeling my limbs creak from the effort. Yet he was not the leader here. Not yet.
"Calm, Taci," Aldir said with the chiding note of a mentor to their student. "Arthur Leywin raises an important question, one that cannot be dismissed."
The three-eyed asura focused on me, and not for the first time, I felt as if his third eye were peeling me apart. Seeing deeper and further than it should.
It reminded me disturbingly of the effect of Spellsong's eyes, how he peered deep into my soul.
"Agrona has breached the noninterference treaty first," Aldir finally said, seeming to measure his words. "Within the ranks of the Alacryan army, a shade of an asura watches over a lesser being. You know of them."
My fists clenched. "Toren Daen," I muttered, sure of my guess.
Aldir nodded gravely. "Indeed. Aurora Asclepius, an eminent phoenix of the Aslcepius Clan, haunts his steps like a ghost. It is unknown how much influence she has, or how much of Toren Daen is asura or man. We shall know soon enough, but that is another matter."
"But this will only serve to escalate the conflict," Sylvie said at my side, resolute as we shared our thoughts and worries. "If an asura is introduced into the war, then what is stopping Agrona from introducing his own? We face Scythes now. Two of them. But with this, we could face Wraiths. How can my grandfather risk something so dangerous?"
Aldir shifted slightly, acknowledging my bond with muted understanding. "A valid question, Lady Sylvie. It has been decreed that Taci Thyestes will only be allowed on the battlefield when rumors of Toren Daen abound. Though great in power and skill, especially for his age, Taci Thyestes does not yet bear the mantle of warrior asura. His strength will not elicit the retribution you fear."
"I will not need to enter the battlefield to win this war," Taci said, his eyes narrowing as he finally glared at me. "I have been trained in the art of war by the greatest masters of battle within the aether orb. I have studied and practiced and bled for years-within-months. You lesser beings will win this war through the blood you shed and the front you present. Any failure that occurs will not be because of me, but because of your petty weakness."
"And how is that any way to lead troops?" I shot back. "What methods do you have that are so much better than the ones used before?"
Taci's nostrils flared. "It's clear the Lord of the Lessurans wants your people to bleed, Arthur Leywin. So I say we let him do it. Let him spend his forces in your countryside while the true powers of this war strike a mighty blow at the heart of our foes. I can see it all from above with a tactician's mind. Your council has darted about like headless raptor squirrels, unable to form cohesive responses to the Vritra's assaults, cowed by a little blood. But I am above that. Beyond that. I will make you strike like the asura, or as close as a lesser can be to one."
Taci's words echoed out, full of pride and conviction. Yet as I stared into his hard, unrelenting eyes, I saw it. I saw Agrona's victory.
Because if this boy-asura took the helm of Dicathen, it wouldn't matter if we "won." Because the Lord of Alacrya demanded the blood of lessers to flow. He wished for men and women and children and babies to die in the tumultuous landslide of war. He was indiscriminate. Cold. Apathetic.
But Taci? Taci was vindictive. And he would only serve to send more men into the meatgrinder of battle. The numbers didn't matter to him. I'd seen it so many times. The commander who thought themselves better than their troops, who thought the blood of those beneath them to be worth less than their own.
I could see it: see Taci leading thousands into battle, all for the grim sake of victory. Because that was what he would fight for. Not for the lives of Dicathen, not for the betterment of all beneath his banner. No, this child wanted victory above all else. At any cost.
And he'd happily pay Agrona's price—just as Grey would've.
Nowhere would be safe. Already, Agrona tore at the safest places in this world, turning them into places of massacre and bloodshed. Zestier, the plains of Sapin, the Beast Glades… My family was never out of his reach. And if Taci took this crown… what few places they might have had a mote of safety would evaporate. Mom, Dad, the Twin Horns, everyone I had ever known at Xyrus…
They'd be meat. Everyone I loved would be another dot on the board fit for a cruel master to send to die.
I turned around, feeling numb as I swept my gaze across the council. The Arthur deep within compelled me to look at them, to see them for the people they were.
Elder Buhnd looked pensive, his fists clenched and his jaw working. But there was desire there. The desire to crush his enemies, if only this offered rope would be enough. He couldn't see that it would hang him.
Alduin stared at Aldir as if he were a true god bringing salvation in the midst of the rapture, tears blurring the edges of his eyes. He didn't see the trap. Didn't see the danger of it all. The hand he sought to hold would squeeze his neck until there was no air left, before breaking it when there was no more use.
Priscilla? She shifted in her seat, visibly uncomfortable. But she couldn't hide the questions in her eyes. Maybe this little deity would bring salvation to Dicathen. Maybe he'd lead us all to victory.
There were only two who saw what I did. Only two paled with growing fear.
Blaine Glayder stared at Taci as if he were a reaper coming to take his soul. And as the former human king sensed my attention, he looked at me.
And I could see it, too. His expression begged; it pleaded. So different from the worshipping, awe-filled gazes of my previous life, but so similar. Just like Alduin and Elder Buhnd, he wanted salvation. He needed salvation. His eyes pleaded for some way to escape this horrible future.
And Tess? Tess simply looked away, her shoulders slumping as she resigned herself. All the others sought some sort of hope. They wanted some sort of life preserver that would pull them from the approaching tide of war and indiscriminate death.
But as I watched the slump of her shoulders and the emptiness in her eyes, I realized she had already given up. She'd given up when her grandfather was injured and had only presented a front so far.
That was what finally cemented my resolve. Seeing my ever-hopeful, ever-soulful childhood friend… Greying. The Arthur inside—different from that distant King—wouldn't let her eyes be so empty.
I came to a decision.
From the depths of Tess' shadow, a figure grew as if molded from null light. They took on familiar features: sandy blonde hair. Grey eyes. Solid armor. And a crown. A crown so gold it made everything else seem lifeless in comparison.
King Grey stared at me, looming like a demon behind Tess' husk. His eyes asked those questions, that expressionless face still carrying the hard lines of logic.
There is another way, that crown seemed to taunt. There is a path to victory. One that will save these people.
"No," I said, still staring at the defeated scarecrow of the elven princess. "Taci will not lead this council."
"No?" Taci snapped behind me, his aura flaring once more. I might have struggled to rebuff it as I had earlier, but the encroaching mask of Grey banished it. The color drained from the room as I slowly turned, tuning out Sylvie's horror in my mind. Her hands clenched on my arm, and I sensed her distraught gaze on me as she focused solely on my loosening posture.
"Papa, no," she thought weakly, forgetting all about the asura nearby. "Don't go there. I can't… I can't follow."
I ignored her.
"No," I reasserted once more, staring at the pantheons across from me. "What is the purpose of Taci's appointment here, Aldir Thyestes?"
Aldir studied me: really studied me. Before, I'd felt unnerved by the piercing lance of his sight. But as that same figure of King Grey stepped out from Aldir's shadow, somehow always on the edge of my vision, I realized I didn't have anything to hide. "Taci is to gain experience in warfare as a commander, as a soldier, and as a warrior," the general said.
I tilted my head, seeing through the overlaying pretenses. The dull eyes of the figure behind Aldir watched me intently. "That isn't everything. There's more to why. And as the people of this continent—the ones dying and bleeding and suffering—we have a right to know."
Taci opened his mouth to retort, his face clenching, but Aldir's hand on his shoulder quieted him. "He has yet to learn what it means to truly be force," the three-eyed asura said, that single pupil of his darting about as it roved over me. "To be anything more than brutality and pure destruction. A battlefield where the targets and enemies are more abstract is the greatest teacher of such tactics. But you must tell me in turn, Arthur Leywin. Why do you think yourself fit to defy a command from Lord Indrath?"
I stepped forward, ignoring the gaze of the living ghost behind Aldir. Because Grey—King Grey—had manifested from the very pits of hell to watch me. His cold, empty eyes asked me if I'd continue. Asked me if I'd make the same mistakes.
And I remembered Elder Rinia's words, the seer no doubt predicting the future. No doubt seeing precisely to this moment.
Sometimes, the only way out was through.
I took a deep breath, settling my resolve. "I will lead this continent," I declared, my voice iron and my will steel. "I will take them to victory."
Sylvie closed her eyes in sorrow, a tear streaking down her pristine jaw as her lips quivered. I heard the surprised mutters of the councilmembers and Lances behind me, no doubt thinking me insane.
King Grey began to circle around the council chamber, his ghostly eyes focused on me as he stalked like a predator. Distantly, I wondered if part of my mind had finally broken, if this manifestation of my inner psyche proved me truly mad. Why else would I be seeing ghosts?
Taci swelled with anger. "And what claim do you have, lesser being, to lead in place of me?" he hissed, his aura swelling again. "First, you presume to share the same training grounds as I. Then you impose yourself in a talk between pure-blooded asura, unaware of your station. And now–"
"Quiet, Taci," Aldir interrupted sharply, his voice rising with true ire for the first time. "You must know patience. You must know restraint. If you cannot let those you deem beneath you even open their mouths, then a failure of a leader you will make. Perhaps I was too swift in your recommendation here if you are so quick to anger." The three-eyed asura looked at me consideringly, his ire simmering away. "And though the man before you is no asura, he was once royalty."
The council chamber grew silent as Aldir's power drifted about on eddies of shimmering force. The only sound that reached my ears was the nigh undetectable sound of Sylvie's tears as they shattered against the stones.
"This… This I did not expect, Arthur Leywin," the pantheon general mused. "Why should I grant you this privilege? Are you so desperate to lead men into battle again? Is this what it has all led to?"
Taci was seething. His face looked fit to break from how hard the muscles within clenched. But I didn't care. "I do not want this," I said evenly. Not far from me, the phantom ghost of King Grey stared at me. Always judging me. Always weighing me. "But I know what this continent stands to lose: but unlike Taci, I live on this continent. Every loss that occurs is a blow to my home. And because of that, I will fight that much harder than Taci ever will. I will fight that much smarter than Taci ever will. My tactical experience eclipses even his. You know I am what is needed."
For the first time ever, Aldir opened his normal eyes. They were the same piercing violet as his third. His aura finally rose, so much more than Taci. It was like Kordri's King's Force, except truly primordial. And for the first time, I felt even the mantle of Grey creak from the pressure bearing down on me from all sides.
"I did not ask why you were greater than Taci, King Grey," Aldir countered, every syllable a hammer on a reverberating drum. "I asked what made you worthy of this station. You profess that you are what is needed, heedless of your status as a mortal man. You speak of knowing, so I shall tell you what I know.
"I know the blood that trailed in your wake," he said, each syllable growing louder and louder. His tone was soft, but the reverberating volume made my bones ache. Each word echoed and rebounded across the council chamber. The stones of the castle shook as dust rained from the ceiling, the asura's aura making the very floating bastion we stood in tremble. "You claim that you care for others, yet that blood taints your very soul and haunts your footsteps. Your very intent is soaked red with the lives of those you've slaughtered. Through the press of your King's Force, I can taste their tears. There are countless more dead in your wake than Agrona has ever laid claim to in this war, and even now, your mind is more pantheon than man. Tell me. You have a warrior's intent, but not a king's. I did not ask if you were greater than Taci. I asked if you were greater than yourself."
Greater than myself… What made me better than King Grey? What made Arthur the only choice for this?
Aldir's King's Force was every flavor of power rolled into a devastating gale. Knives, hammers, swords, spears, axes… It cleaved, cut, thrust, and crushed the mana itself around me, threatening to tear my balance out from under me. An unending storm of humanity's art of war flowed through the mana itself, trying to tear me down. I was a man lost in a storm, the waves reaching their fingers along the bow of my sinking ship and trying to pull me under. I trembled slightly.
Despite the pressure, I turned, staring back at the Council once more. Most struggled to breathe and stand beneath Aldir's intent, suppressed as it was. The Lances stared wide-eyed in disbelief and incomprehension at the interplay. But I saw Tess' eyes—and for once, I thought there was hope in there once more. Wherever I looked, that phantom figure of Grey was always at the edges—except for when I stared at her.
I was Grey now. But deep in my mind, there was a kindling of Arthur, a spark that would keep me on my path. Arthur was not just a machine, seeking a goal under the grinding of apathetic gears. He was the lighthouse amidst the hurricane.
He was what made me better. He was what made this possible.
"If you cannot trust my selflessness, Lord Aldir, then trust my selfishness," I said, feeling my mana swell. It was paltry in comparison to the pantheon's, but the weight behind it was just as impactful. Fire and water and wind and earth rose, pressing against axe and spear and mace and sword. They wove together in a dance known only to the General and I, the sound of clashing blades ringing in the depths of our minds. The sound of war. "I made a promise to Sylvia Indrath before she died, that I would craft a life for myself in this world different from my last with people to love. But Agrona will never give them a place to live their lives in peace. I will fight and I will bleed and I will win."
The lighthouse shone.
The faces of a dozen friends and comrades flashed through my mind as I reasserted my will. I thought of Mom, working so hard to heal every person she could for her continent. I thought of Dad, his gauntlets roaring as he sought to make good on the death of Adam. Ellie's shy expression as she asked to train with me, hoping to show me every new technique she learned from Helen Shard. Tess' beautiful face as she slowly grew from a young child to a mature woman, and Sylvie at my side as she wept tears of sorrowful understanding.
"Every battle I fight, I fight for them," I said with the command of a King. "Every beast I slay and town I protect, I do so in the hope that they will have a future, that they will have a life to live and hope to endure. That is what will give this continent a chance. That is my claim to royalty."
I summoned Dawn's Ballad, the asura-forged blade appearing in a flash of purple particles. I slammed its violet blade into the crust of the castle floor, the splintering of earth heralding my declaration in a flare of brilliant aether. All four of the elements in the air shifted and swirled around me, the aether of this mortal plane cementing my candidacy. Another sword joined the storm.
"I will be King again," I declared solemnly. "So long as it is necessary. As long as Agrona harries our shores with war and I am needed, I will serve that end."
After all, hadn't Dad said something about this? Sometimes, all we did was what we could, even if it hurt those we cared for.
My aura of desaturation warped around the crushing grip of Aldir's King's Force. He watched me. Measured me, my resolve, and everything that I was. Through it all, I stayed strong, letting the scrutinizing gaze peel at my layers of steel. The storm of swords ripped me apart, rending metal and looking for weakness within. War raged as sweat seeped from my iron shell.
Let him know the truth. Let him know that I will do all I can to see this continent safe. Let him know that Agrona will not win.
And finally, Aldir's intent simmered away, banished by my declaration as it sank in and through the stones. The castle ceased its tumultuous rumbling. He watched me for a time, his eyes peeling back the meaning behind every wordl. The very world held its breath, every bit of air stolen by my affirmation.
"It is as you say," he said slowly. "Very well then, King Grey. No… King Arthur. By the authority of Epheotus, you will lead this council in our stead. Some part of me was turned aside when I first came here, but now… I think I am beginning to see."
King Arthur.
Sylvie shook, tears streaming down her face. Tears I could not shed. For a moment, she glared hatefully at Aldir, a young girl's hatred condensing on the one who stole something she couldn't understand. You took him from me, those glistening topaz eyes accused. You took him from me.
But my bond did not speak. Aldir barely spared the granddaughter of Kezess Indrath a glance, merely tilting his eyes at her grief. It was only then that he turned to the other asura in the room.
"And Taci…"
The young asura—who was gaping at me with an expression that couldn't even afford true comprehension—turned to acknowledge Aldir mutely. "Master…"
"You will stay your course in this castle. You will watch Arthur Leywin, and you will learn under his guidance. Of all the lessers, he is one you must take care to emulate. Yet if you find taking orders from Arthur Leywin to be unacceptable, then turn to Sylvie Indrath. She is of her mother's blood; of her grandfather's blood. Trust that she will not lead you astray, my pupil," he said, laying a solid hand on the teenage-looking asura's shoulder.
Taci stared up at Aldir, equally uncertain and angry. "But master, I—what does this do to serve my growth? How does it… How does it prove me worthy?"
Aldir was quiet for a moment. "Three eyes, and sometimes I am still blind," he muttered, shaking his head. "Arthur Leywin has knowledge that you would be wise to emulate. His mind is a weapon sharp as any pantheon blade, honed through battles more numerous than you would believe."
The asuran general strode toward me, sparing a solemn glance toward Sylvie as she quietly wept. She could no longer stare him in the eye, and her anger had given way to sorrow. I wondered if Aldir understood why.
King Grey watched silently as the pantheon proffered the box containing the scepter to me. "This will bind the Lances to you, King Arthur. They will be yours, no longer belonging to the monarchs of this land. They will be unshackled from the limitations on their power." His eye narrowed slightly, and I thought I saw a hint of fondness in the depths. "The greatest path of a warrior is not conquering their enemies. It is conquering themselves; rising above what they once were in a constant struggle to overcome the self of yesterday. I look forward to seeing what you will do in this war, and I wish you strength on your inner battles."
And then he left, swiftly as he had come. Aldir did not spare us any more words of wisdom. He didn't give the rest of us any tips or hints toward success. The wind seemed to carry him as he strode out the Council doors.
Taci stood still, seeming dumbfounded by the entire interaction. His knuckles were white on the shaft of his red spear, his eyes wide.
I would have to watch him and ensure he did not overstep.
I pulled the scepter into my dimension ring. I inhaled, feeling the oxygen fill my lungs. Then I exhaled slowly. The sensation of air across my skin and my slow heartbeat in my ears told me I was alive. That while I was a sword, I was also flesh and bone. The analytical mindset I'd always adopted as Grey was at the forefront of my mind, but there was also something else there. A solemn resolve lingered on the corners that wasn't Grey. That was Arthur, and all he cared for.
I grasped the hilt of Dawn's Ballad, then drew it from the stone. I inspected its edge, already imagining the weight of the metaphorical crown on my head.
I'd made a promise to Sylvia that I would live a fulfilling life. And for me, that meant my loved ones. That meant I wished for my family to live and grow and prosper. But they needed a home that they could prosper in. A world where they could live without fear of bloodshed and war.
I wondered then, what Sylvia would think of this. When I was a young boy, she knew me to once have been a king. Did she know I would be in the future, too?
I turned, staring back at the council. In their fearful, confused, and horrified eyes, I saw the Council of Etharia. I saw men and women who didn't know war: not fully.
Alduin fell back into his seat like a sack of dead flesh, staring at me as if I were a stranger who'd come to haunt the shell of something he'd once known. He would question all he knew of my childhood, but he would bend. He'd been broken before, and that made him easy to mold. Priscilla Glayder's eyes shook, sweat making her illustrious black hair cling to her neck, her eyes darting between me and the place the pantheon general had left. For her part, I suspected she'd follow her husband's lead in my rule. Elder Buhnd was paler than ivory as he trembled visibly, the dwarf's mouth agape. Blaine's expression was hollow, nearly as empty as my soul as he limply stared at me.
What are you, Arthur Leywin? those eyes asked. Who are you? What have you done?
Bairon seemed to have forgotten what it was to wield the storms, his body shaking—with rage or fear, I would have to determine at a later date—as his wild green eyes darted about me. Varay alone stared into the distance, impassive and empty as she traced the path the pantheon general had walked. Aya? Aya was silent as a grave.
With the scepter, I'd take control of their tethers. That was the simplest start in centralizing power.
Tess was there, too, staring at me with an indecipherable expression. Though the councilors and Lances alike stood starstruck in silence, unable to process the shift in power that had just taken place, I thought that my childhood friend was the only one of them who fully fathomed what had just happened.
Her eyes were still so hollow.
I acknowledged it all, even as Sylvie slowly sank to her knees, trying not to sob at the choice I had needed to make. She buried her face in her hands, the young dragon crumbling as she recognized that this was the only way forward. Some part of me could understand her horror as I dove headfirst into the cloying pit. Her fear that I would never find my way out again burned like a dying star.
"Papa," she thought weakly, each of her tears shattering like droplets of glass as they met the floor, "Papa, I don't want to lose you. I don't know how to make you better."
She couldn't say the words to Aldir, but that was the dream she felt slipping away. The dream that I would be better. Some part of me, hammered away and reforged into what I needed to be, saw it fading too. I had the lighthouse there, flickering in the dark. But I couldn't follow that light. I could not embrace the gold.
I didn't respond to my bond, still enmeshed in the hardened shell of Grey. I did not have encouragement to give her: only steel.
Only steel.
I surveyed the members of this new council with a steady gaze, recalling every trial and misstep I had encountered in Etharia as I centered absolute power.
These people were weak. They'd squandered resources, men, and the future of this continent. So much inefficiency. So many limbs jutted from this monstrosity that could be cut away, severed at their root and replaced with iron.
I had work to do.
"It has been many decades since I stood at the head of a war council," I finally said into the silence, my voice carrying unnaturally, "but I have not forgotten how to break an enemy."
"I will ensure that Dicathen survives this war. And when that is done…" My hands clenched around the hilt of Dawn's Ballad. "We'll see if Agrona's blood is as black as his soul."