A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid:

Morning arrived in Aldermere with a somber quiet. The usual cheerful greetings and casual conversations that marked the start of a village day were replaced by hushed whispers and wary glances toward the inn where Inquisitor Valerius had taken residence. Word had spread quickly that formal interviews would begin today, and anxiety hung in the air like the mist that clung to the valley floor.

He watched from his window as villagers moved through their morning routines with unusual haste, as if hoping to complete their tasks before being summoned by the Inquisitor. His mother had left for the weaving shed earlier than usual, her face drawn with worry. Doran had said little at breakfast, but his eyes had lingered on him with an unspoken question.

"Be careful today," was all his uncle had said before departing.

Now, as he made his way to Elder Myra's garden where he had agreed to meet Rannek and Marta, he felt exposed. The core shard in his chest seemed heavier somehow, a secret too dangerous to carry in the open. He kept his head down, avoiding the gazes of neighbors who might wonder why he wasn't helping at the smithy as usual.

"There you are," she said without looking up. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd been summoned already."

"Has it started?" he asked, settling on a stone bench beside Rannek.

Elder Myra nodded grimly. "The innkeeper's wife was first. Then old Tomas. The Inquisitor has set up in the inn's private dining room, calling people in one by one."

"What's he asking them?" Marta leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Everything," Elder Myra replied, finally looking up from her plants. "Where they've been, what they've seen, who they suspect might be... different." She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "Widow Maren came to me in tears after her interview. Said he pressed her about lights she'd seen in the eastern forest months ago, and wouldn't accept her explanation about glowing fungi."

He and Rannek exchanged worried glances. The eastern forest was where they often trained, where they had first encountered Curio.

"What should we do?" Rannek asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

Elder Myra studied them for a long moment. "You must be very careful. This Inquisitor is not a fool. He's methodical, observant. He'll be watching for inconsistencies, for signs of nervousness beyond the ordinary."

"Should we run?" he asked, the question that had been haunting him since the Inquisitor's arrival.

"And go where?" Elder Myra shook her head. "Running would only confirm his suspicions. No, you must face this challenge here, among those who would protect you."

"But what if he discovers what we can do?" Rannek pressed. "The journal told us what happens to unregistered... practitioners."

Elder Myra's expression softened slightly. "I've spoken with Brannic and Kerethin. We will do everything in our power to shield you. But you must help us by being cautious. No use of your abilities, no matter how small. And if questioned, stick as close to the truth as possible without revealing your secrets."

"The truth?" Marta frowned. "But the truth is exactly what we're trying to hide."

"Partial truths," Elder Myra clarified. "They're easier to maintain than outright lies. Especially under pressure."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Kerethin, her usual composed demeanor strained. "The Inquisitor is working his way through the village systematically," she reported. "He's already interviewed most of the eastern quarter. It won't be long before he reaches the children."

"Has he discovered anything?" Elder Myra asked.

Kerethin shook her head. "Not yet, but he's persistent. And..." she hesitated, glancing at the boys. "He's not gentle in his questioning. Several women have left in tears, and Jorin the baker nearly came to blows with him after being accused of harboring sympathies for unregistered magic users."

"Why would he think that?" Marta asked, alarmed for her father.

"Because your father defended Widow Maren when the Inquisitor suggested she was lying about the lights," Kerethin explained. "Valerius seems to interpret any defense of others as potential complicity."

The implications settled heavily over the group. If defending someone was seen as suspicious, how could they protect each other without drawing the Inquisitor's attention?

"There's more," Kerethin continued reluctantly. "Hewitt was interviewed this morning. He apparently took the opportunity to speak against Kaelid and Rannek."

"What?" he felt a surge of anger. "What did he say?"

"That you two are often absent from the village, that you keep secrets, that you've changed since your journey to Highpass." Kerethin's expression was grim. "The Inquisitor dismissed most of it as petty jealousy, but it was enough to put you on his list for questioning."

"When?" Rannek asked, his face pale.

"Soon," Kerethin replied. "Perhaps today. He's moving quickly."

Elder Myra rose, her decision made. "Then we have little time. Kaelid, Rannek, come with me. We need to prepare you for what's to come."

---

Inquisitor Valerius sat with perfect posture, his blue and silver uniform immaculate, as he was escorted in by the innkeeper. A small silver device rested on the table before him, its purpose unknown but its presence intimidating.

"Sit," Valerius commanded, not looking up from the notes he was reviewing.

He obeyed, trying to control his racing heart. Elder Myra's advice echoed in his mind: Remain calm. Stick to partial truths. Reveal nothing about the core shard or your abilities.

"State your name and age," Valerius said, finally looking up. His eyes were a pale, unsettling blue that seemed to pierce through pretense.

"Kaelid. I'm nine years old."

"You recently traveled to Highpass, did you not?"

He nodded, then realized a verbal response was expected. "Yes, sir. With Rannek and Marta. Training on escorting a caravan."

"And what was the purpose of this journey?" Valerius made a note on the parchment before him.

"To act as a trainee guard for the caravan under Marta, in the junior militia." he replied, the partial truth coming easily.

"I see." Valerius's tone suggested he found this mundane and uninteresting. "And during your time in Highpass, did you encounter anything unusual? Anything that might be considered... arcane in nature?"

He hesitated, thinking of the living library, of the journal hidden beneath his floorboards. "No, sir. It was just a trading journey. We looked around the market and I went to the library"

Valerius's eyes narrowed slightly. "Several villagers have mentioned that you and your friend Rannek spend considerable time in the eastern forest. What do you do there?"

"Explore, mostly," he said, grateful that this, at least, was not a lie. "Rannek and I like to practice tracking, identifying plants. Teacher Kerethin gives lessons in it at school. Sometimes we help Elder Myra gather herbs."

"Elder Myra," Valerius repeated, making another note. "The village healer. She has taken a particular interest in you boys, has she not?"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"She teaches many of the village children about plants and their uses," e replied, careful to keep his voice steady.

"But you and Rannek receive special attention, I'm told." Valerius leaned forward slightly. "Private lessons. Why is that?"

Kaelid felt a trickle of sweat down his back. "I don't know that it's special. We're just interested in learning."

"Hmm." Valerius reached for the silver device on the table, turning it slowly in his hands. It resembled a compass, but instead of cardinal directions, strange symbols marked its face. "Do you know what this is, Kaelid?"

"No, sir."

"It's an arcane detection instrument. Quite sensitive. It reacts to the presence of magical energies." Valerius held it closer to him. "Curious that it shows no reaction to you, despite the rumors."

He said nothing, unsure if a response was expected or if this was another tactic to unsettle him.

"Tell me about the lights seen in the eastern forest," Valerius continued, setting the device down. "Several villagers have reported strange lights at night. What do you know of these?"

"There are fungi and some insects that glow in the dark, other than that I haven't seen anything."

"Natural explanations for natural phenomena," Valerius said, echoing Brannic's words from the previous day. "How convenient that everyone in this village has the same response."

The questioning continued for what felt like hours, though the shadows on the floor suggested less time had passed. Valerius circled back to the same topics repeatedly, asking about the forest, about Elder Myra's teachings, about his friendship with Rannek. Each time, the questions were phrased slightly differently, probing for inconsistencies.

He maintained his composure, though fatigue began to wear at his resolve. The core shard in his chest remained quiet, as if sensing the danger of discovery.

Finally, Valerius set down his quill and fixed him with a penetrating stare. "One last question, boy. If you were to witness magic in this village, unregistered and therefore illegal magic, would you report it as is your duty to the Duke?"

The question was a trap, he realized. To say yes would be to betray himself and Rannek if they were discovered. To say no would mark him as sympathetic to unregistered practitioners.

"I would want to understand it first," he said carefully. "To be sure of what I was seeing before making such a serious accusation."

Valerius's expression remained unreadable. "You may go. Send in your friend Rannek next."

Kaelid rose on shaky legs, relief washing through him as he was dismissed. In the inn's common room, Rannek waited with the smith, both looking up anxiously as he emerged.

"Your turn, be careful. He tries to trick you into contradicting yourself."

Rannek nodded grimly and entered the dining room, the door closing behind him with ominous finality.

Brannic placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Come. Let's wait outside."

The fresh air was a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere of the interrogation room. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Did you reveal anything?" Brannic asked in a low voice once they were alone.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. But he's very persistent. And he has some kind of device he claims can detect magic, though it didn't seem to react to me."

Brannic nodded thoughtfully. "The Praxis have many such instruments, though their effectiveness varies. You were wise to maintain control of your abilities."

They waited in tense silence for Rannek to emerge. When he finally did, his face was pale but composed.

"He asked the same questions," Rannek reported as they walked away from the inn. "About the forest, about our training with Elder Myra. He seemed especially interested in why we spend so much time together."

"What did you tell him?"

"That we've been friends since we were small. That we share interests." Rannek shrugged. "He didn't seem satisfied, but he let me go."

"For now," Brannic said grimly. "This Inquisitor is not easily dissuaded. He will continue watching, waiting for a mistake."

The warning hung in the air as they made their way to the training yard where the militia would be gathering soon. Normally, he looked forward to these sessions, where Brannic taught them not just combat but awareness, how to read an opponent's intentions before they acted. Today, however, the prospect filled him with dread.

"Perhaps we should skip training today," Rannek suggested, clearly thinking along the same lines.

Brannic shook his head. "That would only draw more attention. The Inquisitor knows your routines by now. Any deviation would be suspicious."

"But what if we accidentally use our abilities?" he asked, voicing the fear that had been growing since their interviews.

"You won't," Brannic said firmly. "You've learned control. Use it."

The training yard was already filling with villagers when they arrived. The militia training was open to all, though mostly attended by the men and older boys of Aldermere. Today, however, Kaelid noticed several women present as well, including Kerethin and, surprisingly, Marta.

"What's she doing here?" Rannek whispered, spotting Marta as well.

"Keeping up appearances," Brannic replied quietly. "The more normal everything seems, the less suspicious the Inquisitor will be."

Speaking of the Inquisitor, he realized with a jolt that Valerius himself stood at the edge of the training yard, observing the gathering with his cold, calculating gaze. Their eyes met briefly, and he quickly looked away, focusing instead on the practice weapons being distributed.

Brannic moved to the center of the yard, his scaled form commanding immediate attention. "Today we continue our work on anticipation," he announced. "Reading your opponent's intent before they act can mean the difference between victory and defeat, between life and death."

The training began with basic exercises, partners facing each other with wooden practice swords, taking turns attacking and defending. He was paired with an older boy named Tarn, who had been part of the militia training for several years. Under normal circumstances, he would have welcomed the challenge. Today, with the Inquisitor watching, it felt like walking a knife's edge.

"Remember," Brannic called as he moved among the pairs, correcting stances and offering guidance, "watch your opponent's eyes, their weight distribution, the tension in their shoulders. The body reveals what the mind intends."

He focused intently on Tarn, deliberately suppressing the enhanced awareness that had become second nature over months of training with the core shard. It was harder than he expected, like trying not to hear or see. The shard's influence had become so integrated with his perceptions that dampening it felt like fighting with one arm tied behind his back.

Tarn lunged, his practice sword aimed at his midsection. Without the enhanced awareness, his parry was late, the wooden blade striking his ribs with a painful thwack.

"Too slow," Tarn grinned, clearly pleased to have landed a solid hit on the younger boy who had recently become frustratingly difficult to touch during practice.

Kaelid nodded, rubbing his side. "Good strike."

They reset their positions, and he tried again to focus purely on the physical cues Brannic had taught them, without the additional layer of perception the shard provided. It was working, after a fashion. He was fighting as he had before the shard, relying solely on trained observation and reflexes.

Until Tarn changed tactics.

Instead of the direct attacks he had been using, Tarn suddenly shifted to a feint, beginning a strike toward his left side before abruptly changing direction to target his right. It was a advanced move, one that required quick recognition to counter.

In that split second of surprise, his careful suppression of his enhanced awareness slipped. The core shard flared to life, sending a wave of warmth through his chest. Suddenly, he could sense not just Tarn's physical movements but the intention behind them, the subtle shift in energy that preceded the change in direction.

Without conscious thought, he moved to lightly block the feint, put force into blocking the true attack and the follow-up afterwards rather than the feint, his practice sword meeting Tarn's with a solid tap-crack-crack that sent vibrations up both their arms.

Tarn's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you, "

But he was already aware of his mistake. Across the training yard, the Inquisitor had straightened, his attention fixed on their exchange with newfound interest.

Brannic had seen it too. He quickly moved to their position, ostensibly to correct their form but in truth to intervene.

"Well countered, Kaelid," he said loudly enough for others to hear. "You're learning to read the subtle cues I've been teaching. Tarn, your feint was good, but your eyes gave away your true target."

It was a plausible explanation, one that attributed his unnaturally perfect counter to good training rather than enhanced perception. But as Brannic moved away, his expression conveyed a clear warning: Be more careful.

For the remainder of the session, he fought with deliberate mediocrity, allowing Tarn to land several more hits while making his own attacks predictable and easily defended. It went against everything he had learned, this intentional suppression of skill, but the alternative was too dangerous with the Inquisitor watching.

When Brannic finally called an end to the training, he was sore from the hits he had allowed and mentally exhausted from the constant vigilance. He avoided looking in the Inquisitor's direction as he returned his practice sword to the rack.

"He was watching you," Rannek murmured as they gathered their belongings. "The whole time."

"I know," Kaelid replied quietly. "I slipped once. With Tarn's feint."

"I saw." Rannek's expression was grim. "Do you think he noticed?"

Before he could respond, a shadow fell across them. They looked up to find Inquisitor Valerius standing before them, his pale eyes moving between the two boys with calculated interest.

"Impressive training session," Valerius said, his voice carrying the same cold authority it had during the interrogation. "You show unusual... awareness for a boy your age, your friend as well."

"Thank you, sir," Rannek replied when he remained silent. "Brannic is a good teacher."

"Indeed." Valerius's gaze lingered on Kaelid. "Particularly interesting was your response to that feint, young Kaelid. Most boys your age would have been thoroughly deceived by such a maneuver."

He forced himself to meet the Inquisitor's eyes. "I got lucky. And like Rannek said, Brannic teaches us well."

"Luck," Valerius repeated, the word dripping with skepticism. "A curious explanation for what I observed."

With that, he turned and walked away, his blue cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud on the horizon.

"He knows," he whispered once the Inquisitor was out of earshot. "Or at least, he suspects."

Rannek nodded, his face pale. "What do we do now?"

He had no answer. The net was tightening around them, and for the first time, he truly understood the danger they faced. The core shard in his chest, once a source of wonder and excitement, now felt like a death sentence.

As they left the training yard, he caught sight of Elder Myra watching from the shade of a nearby tree. Her expression was solemn, her eyes following the Inquisitor's retreating form with a mixture of defiance and concern.