Discordant Note | TBATE

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Arthur Leywin

My footsteps didn't echo as I walked toward the flying castle's teleportation gates. My body felt strangely light as I ran through the conversations not half an hour ago.

But right now, I had more pressing duties. I would meet with Cylrit soon–in secret and in silence. The potential for Virion's healing was too great to pass up.

And Seris knows something more of the Legacy, I thought, grinding my teeth as I walked through the halls. Servants bowed and curtsied as I passed, maintaining my air of casual regality as I strode. Agrona plans to use Tess somehow, but I don't understand how.

Maybe I could wrangle that information from Cylrit as part of our negotiations, but I didn't become king by thinking optimistically.

My march stopped, however, as I felt a familiar presence approaching. One that I'd been on the lookout for what felt like an age.

I didn't acknowledge it, continuing in my slow stride as I gave an air of disinterest. This continued for a time as that presence followed me weakly, struggling to keep up with my steady march.

Before finally, it scoffed in annoyance. "You can stop in your kingly antics of making me wait, Arthur," Elder Rinia croaked, "neither of us has time in this world for such immaturity."

I stopped in the hallway, forcing the mage following me to do so as well. Then I slowly turned, noting the empty passageway as I did so. Devoid entirely of listening ears or watching eyes. That had to be intentional on her part.

"You're dressed spiffily today," Rinia said, looking me up and down. "Makes me wonder what's got you marching as if you're going to battle."

Indeed, I was. Silver gauntlets and greaves protected my extremities, the golden runes etched over them glowing protectively. A light layer of inscribed chainmail protected my torso and upper legs while still allowing me freedom of movement. And atop it all, a fur mantle completed the regal look.

I looked down at her with a cool expression, measuring my words. "A king must always be ready for threats to his person," I responded sternly. My eyes flicked to Rinia's empty shoulder. "Avier is usually with you whenever you corner me in dark, secluded hallways and give me dire information, but I don't see him right now."

The elf groaned slightly as she shifted, appearing as if a stiff breeze could knock her over. Her scraggly gray hair clung to her skin. "He's off doing something for me," she said, her old bones creaking. "He'll be back eventually."

The old elf seer had an uncanny ability to slip through nearly every encirclement around her. When I'd first been elevated to king, she had hovered by my side, whispering words of advice and counsel into my ear. But then she vanished just as quickly, appearing within and without the castle like a phantom. Even Taci—who had been strangely focused on the decrepit elf—hadn't been able to keep track of her.

I hadn't yet resorted to outright detainment of the seer because I knew that such attempts would only fail and further strain relationships. But as the weight of this continent's future settled onto my shoulders, I'd recognized that Elder Rinia functioned as a dangerous variable.

"What grave and important piece of misinformation do you have for me today, Rinia?" I asked, staring down at her with my hands locked behind my back. "I have a meeting to get to."

"Ahh, yes," Rinia said, taking my obvious brusqueness in stride. "The talk with the Retainer. That is important. But I don't have information for you today; just advice."

"Information would serve this continent better," I argued back, narrowing my eyes as I looked down at the elf. "Though I'm grateful for your help in freeing Sylvie from her father's control, that doesn't change the fact that you knew that spell was there. Nor the fact that you guided me into an unneeded conflict with Spellsong."

"But it was needed," Rinia said with a world-weary sigh. "Maybe you don't see it now, Arthur, but that fight of yours with Toren Daen was necessary if you want this war to end in any way suitable for the people of Dicathen."

"And yet you do not tell me why, Rinia," I countered. "War is won and lost on information. You speak of the futures you are trying to bring about, but my responsibility is to the people of Dicathen. I cannot risk all those lives on riddles and hearsay from someone who won't tell me the full story."

Rinia tilted her head, leaning on her cane as she smiled up at me. "Keep that motivation close to your heart, King Arthur, and Dicathen will have a future."

I scoffed, feeling increasingly annoyed. "And I suppose I'll think of this exact moment when I need a sudden emotional epiphany to win against my enemies?"

Rinia chortled slightly, unaffected. "No, nothing so grand this time, King Arthur. I'm not quite the Merlin you think I am, manipulating the board like a politician or warmonger. That was simply an old woman's advice. Maybe you'll stop seeing that ghost one day, too."

My mind flashed back to my conversation earlier in the day, where the phantom of my past had sizzled away as I'd spoken with Ellie.

I turned, feeling more than ready to leave this conversation behind. "Then tell me what you came here to say."

Rinia tapped her cane on the floor. "Very well then, impatient boy. Many years ago, I told you that the most dangerous enemy isn't the one on the throne leading the forces, but the soldier with nothing to lose."

The diviner—withered and shrunken like a tree root that had been deprived of water—shuddered slightly. "The futures I've seen have changed since I last said those words to you, but they're still true. Keep that in mind."

Despite myself, I found myself contemplating her words from as many angles as I could.

I'd studied symbology in my previous life, and prophecies were a large part of that. The characters involved almost always honed in on one interpretation, losing sight of every other hint that led to another outcome.

Some gut instinct in me told me that this was similar. There was a twist to this that I didn't quite understand.

Who is the enemy on the throne?

"Is this a warning for Dicathen," I finally asked, "or Alacrya?"

Rinia simply smiled.

—

I had improved even further on Mirage Walk since the manifestation of my acclorite. The technique involved drawing the ambient mana in at the same time you expelled some as well, creating an effect in the world around you that masked your mana usage. It was an expert skill, worthy of the pantheon's designation of a secret technique. With the correct usage, an enemy would never even sense my mana signature as I approached. I was a wraith on the wind.

But with my constant vision of all four elements in the air, I'd been able to detect inefficiencies in my utilization of it. There were patterns that fire, water, earth, and wind played in the atmosphere. The way orange fire mana drifted high as the sunlight beckoned it. How water mana rippled around with moisture and clouds in a slow churn. How earth mana rolled across the stones like boulders down a hill, and wind mana danced in little eddies.

If I wanted to be truly invisible to even the greatest of mana senses, I couldn't just press my mana into the atmosphere after absorbing it. I needed to smooth out my presence in the aftermath, ensuring that nobody would ever catch a fleeting trace of me before I was already gone.

And as I slowly flew through the light forest many miles south of Blackbend, I focused on keeping myself as less than a ghost. Pull the mana in with mana rotation, expel it and weave it in its natural state.

It was easier to do than I'd expected. By spending so much time in my manaborne forms, the diffused insight into how each aspect of mana affected the world had become almost a part of my body.

I reached the agreed-upon meeting ground easily enough. Beyond the edge of the treeline, I could make out the gap in the forest.

A serene, peaceful lake glimmered with reflected sunlight not far away. There was a boulder at the center of the lake that thrust upward like a fist, denying the water perfection. A simple dock with a sunken canoe stretched out into the water, but the wood was clearly rotten and stale from disrepair. There was a slight hill at the far edge with overgrown grass that led to an overgrown, decrepit cabin.

I slowly walked around the edge of the forest, inching my way toward the cabin. I kept Mirage Walk active as my boots pressed into the soft grass.

But even as I walked toward that overgrown cabin, I found my attention drifting to the scenic nature of the chosen meeting ground. The way the birds chirped and animals rustled through the underbrush had an almost supernatural calming effect on me despite my mission.

A cabin in the woods, I thought, letting myself imagine it for a moment. We could have a small little home like this. Just me and my family, whenever this war is done. And… maybe Tess, too. And whoever else happens to join us along the way.

It was a nice dream. It was the dream that soothed the aches of my nightmares when I slept, reminding me that there would be an aftermath to this. That I had a future worth fighting for.

Maybe, when all this was done and the war was over, I could put down the crown on my head. Maybe Virion could take it up. Maybe the Council could run on its own again. Or something.

But the idea of something nice and simple with those I loved…

That dream receded as I finally reached the fishing cabin's porch. I walked up the rickety steps, feeling them creak beneath my weight as the decrepit wood strained.

I walked forward quietly, seeing my target. Cylrit was staring out at the lake, a strange expression on his face. His dark hair shifted slightly in the breeze as I moved to stand beside him, turning my azure eyes back to the ever-still water.

The Retainer didn't say anything to acknowledge my presence. I might have thought it some sort of powerplay, as I had done with Rinia. It would force me to speak up first and initiate the conversation, granting Cylrit the power in each back and forth.

But there was something about the way the Retainer held himself in his silence that told me there was more to whatever introspection plagued his thoughts.

A sparrow alighted upon that central rock, flapping its dark wings as it held a wriggling worm in its beak. Belatedly, I realized that there was a nest nestled in the crooks of that rock. Two chicks stretched their mouths up toward the mother bird.

"My master expected the Dicathian resistance to fail in the aftermath of Virion Eralith's fall," he finally said, his deep baritone surprisingly quiet as he kept an indoor voice. "She commends you on your ascension, and on your plays in this war."

"You might not believe me, Cylrit," I replied dryly, "but this isn't my first war. Seris has made things exceedingly difficult, despite her well wishes."

A smile ghosted across the Retainer's features before it vanished in a blink. He turned away from the scene of the mother bird, looking at me with calculating blood-red eyes. "Tales of your exploits in that other world are known, King Arthur," he finally said. "But that isn't the topic of today's meeting. I do not see Retainer Mawar with you."

I snorted lightly. "I wouldn't bring our prisoner preemptively, Cylrit. That would be foolish. We've got to work out another deal first. I need assurances. And on that end, I wonder if Seris is treating this meeting with its due severity."

I let my eyes travel around us, emphasizing how alone we were. "I am the Commander of the Triunion forces, while you are Retainer. Meeting with a representative tells me she doesn't understand the position I carry."

Seris Vritra had met with Virion Eralith in our previous exchange of prisoners. Though I doubted she truly thought me lesser in station than Virion, it was still common courtesy to show respect to those of fellow rank and station.

"She is Scythe Seris Vritra, King Leywin," Cylrit replied with an unheated huff. "Her titles are as core as her name. Do not disrespect her by saying her name so flippantly."

"If she has an issue with my words, she can bring them to me herself."

Cylrit narrowed his eyes as he stared down at me. "My master has many, many eyes on her," he said, a bit of fire rising in undertones. "Eyes that should not be drawn to this conversation."

I nodded slowly, catching his meaning. Virion had told me of his interpretation of Seris Vritra's message to him at their meeting, where he suspected she had made allusions to her position as one akin to the Lances bound by their monarchs.

"My master is generous," Cylrit said, withdrawing a letter from his cloak. "She has a preliminary offer already prepared, one that befits your current stance in this war."

He held the letter out impassively, the white page contrasted by his dark armor. I raised my gauntleted hand, grasping the letter. Preemptively, I swept over it with my mana senses, checking for some sort of trap.

When I found none, I broke the red wax seal, before withdrawing the contents.

My eyes flicked over the neatly inked lines, feeling slightly disconcerted. They were written in earthen script.

I shook my head as I reached the end, looking up at Cylrit with iron in my gaze. "The last condition of this agreement is unacceptable," I said simply, folding the letter again and not showing any emotion. "If this is all Seris can offer with her earlier suggestions, then I'm disappointed. If you want to keep a cup from being filled, you don't send it to the one who dispenses drinks in the first place."

Indeed, the proposed offer was simple. Virion Eralith would be healed by Spellsong at the same time that Mawar would be released to Seris Vritra. The offer proposed these two things happen at the same time, but there was one clause that was unacceptable.

Tessia Eralith would be presented to Seris Vritra as hostage. Prisoner.

Seris knows I can't accept the last clause, I thought, offering the letter back to the Retainer. So what is her motive for stating it? Just to draw out negotiations?

Cylrit snorted. "We see that the elf princess is close to you, Arthur Leywin. It isn't surprising that you push aside the rational for the emotional."

It was my turn to chuckle at his barbed words. "Rational for the emotional? If I'm to understand, then Agrona himself wants Lance Silverthorn. That means that we cannot—under any circumstances—allow her to fall into his hands. Letting Tessia Eralith into your grip is a foolish decision under any mindset."

Cylrit was quiet for a time, and I sensed that he was about to give me the real offer. "If you are so insistent, then perhaps leeway can be given. There are hidden sanctuaries all across your continent that can hide things from even the most powerful of eyes. Deep in the Beast Glades… Beneath the deserts of Darv… Even on the outskirts of Elshire."

The Retainer's eyes flashed. "Spellsong can guide your lover to one of these sanctuaries in the aftermath of healing your Commander. She must be removed from the board, King Leywin. That is the rational choice."

I fell deep into thought at the Retainer's offer. I wouldn't accept it—at least not without purposefully extending the negotiations even further. Tessia also couldn't just be locked away from combat. She had as much right as everyone else to fight in this war.

But the secondary implications of the Retainer's words sat in my stomach. Sanctuaries that can hide all from the most powerful of eyes…

It was easy to guess why Spellsong was elected as an escort. Toren Daen had healed Tess during her most dire straits, even after his countrymen had attacked her. He had healed me after our pitched battle. And he knew me somehow in some way I still could not fathom.

And from what Sylvie had told me, Spellsong was earnest in his desires. I found myself wishing again that my bond wasn't currently tracking leads along the north of Sapin.

The implication was that Spellsong could be trusted to keep Tess' best interests at heart. I almost believed it, too.

But I couldn't accept this offer, either. "Your conditions all revolve around removing Lance Silverthorn from the war," I said. "But that will not happen. If you wish to convince me to take these offers, you're doing a poor job."

"Your new Lance must be taken from the battlefield," Cylrit said insistently. "The only other option is to remove her from your flying castle." He tilted his head. "Or death."

The way Cylrit made his ultimatum raised my ire, my gauntleted hands clenching. But it wasn't said with malice. It wasn't even said as a threat. The Retainer spoke as if it were mere fact that the only option was death or removal.

I held my anger in check as I turned to the side, reconsidering. Is this the line Seris demands for Virion Eralith's health? I thought, resisting the urge to pace. I could understand the Legacy being powerful. I knew it deep in my bones.

I thought this through for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons. I could not afford to remove Tess from the battlefield. She would never forgive me if I did so. But also, she was powerful and strong. To negotiate a Lance away from the field was no simple matter.

I'll have to talk to her, I thought. I already wanted this negotiation to draw out as long as possible so I could give our troops time to train in their new manalock weapons and reorganize along Darv's southern border. This gives me the perfect excuse to do so.

"It seems we are at an impasse for now, Cylrit," I finally said. "I will not make decisions regarding Lance Silverthorn's removal without her express input. That is not the kind of king I am."

Cylrit narrowed his eyes as he looked down at me. "Your elf princess' thoughts on this should not matter," he countered. "We parlay for the safety and sanctity of this continent, not for one individual's desires."

I felt a quirk in my lips as I stared up at the Retainer. "And you would certainly bargain away Seris' freedom for the greater good, wouldn't you?"

The man opened his mouth, seemingly genuinely surprised by my rebuttal. Then he closed it with a sharp clack. "My master would gladly sacrifice herself for the good of all."

But you wouldn't, I thought in return. Cylrit didn't say so, but my point had been made. "We will meet here again in a week's time," I said, turning on my heel. "I will bring Lance Silverthorn's–"

And then I felt it. It was like a scorching summer sun that scoured away any impurity with its blistering breath. The aura that suddenly took hold of the ambient mana made every single mote of fire about me dance and swarm as if pulled by a star.

I swiveled on my heel, my breath coming up short as I summoned Dawn's Ballad. I stared upward, my eyes wide as that presence approached like a comet.

Already, Cylrit had summoned a massive black greatsword. He looked just about ready to move or cry out, but that presence approached too quickly.

Strong, I thought through gritted teeth as time seemed to run in slow motion. Sweat beaded down my skin. Even stronger than Taci.

I called on my bond with Sylvie, about to prepare a Warp Step. My bond was startled from whatever she'd been doing as a wave of confusion washed over us, but I didn't have time to explain.

The very wood of the cabin began to smolder and spark as that heatwave approached, the light around us warping in the haze.

And then they arrived, hovering in the sky above the lake. The water steamed from their pulsing presence, one that was almost familiar.

Spellsong? I wondered, squinting my eyes as I stared up at the newcomer.

Except it wasn't Toren Daen. No, this being was leagues above anything I'd sensed from Spellsong, but I could not deny the resemblance. His martial robes fluttered in the wind as he looked down at us, his burning red brows cast in a furious scowl. His short hair blew in a slight breeze, but it was his eyes that caught my attention.

One was as pure a blue as the lake he hovered above. The other, as deep an orange as the sun.

The nest on that central island sparked, then caught fire as the newcomer levered a burning, pulsing mace that looked like it could crush mountains down at Cylrit.

"My name is Chul of the Asclepius Clan, foul Vritra," he seethed. "And I have come to end your lies."