Master of the Loop

Chapter 166

All the Pieces Come Together

The hardy footsteps could be heard well away from the doors, stomping like the hooves of a warhorse. Both the woman and Sylas turned toward the doors, the latter far more relaxed than the former. Even if she was confident in her abilities, it appeared as though she still held that much respect toward the Commander of what Sylas came to learn was a tiny fortress-town mixture. He, however, was mostly curious—who could elicit such a reaction from what, by all accounts, was a beyond headstrong woman?

The door opened some ten seconds later and through came a bull of a man—six-seven, eight feet at least, having to bend a good deal just to squeeze into the room. He wore lax clothes, just having tossed on a simple shirt and a pair of leather pants. In fact, he didn’t look much different than Sylas himself, all things considered. The main difference stemmed from the height, as the man had some good three-four inches on Sylas, but Sylas’ frame was a bit broader and better-defined.

The man sported one of those chiseled, squared jaws that made it seem as though he could cut glass with the thing, paired up with a two-days old beard and facial structure capable of eliciting quite a few 'woos' within the right audiences. Vanessa yelped quietly and retreated into the corner, bowing toward the man fully.

"Greetings, Commander," the man, however, ignored her, his gaze falling on Sylas. The pair of eerily silver eyes were clear, void of all emotions, making it impossible for Sylas to be able to read him.

“Leave us,” he commanded in a deep, booming voice. The woman didn’t even protest with her gait, instead speeding out of the room and closing the doors behind her. “How did you kill him?”

“Kill who?” Sylas asked.

“It’s too late in the night to be talking like women,” the man said, sitting down. “Man to man, face to face. Nobody was coming from the deep north, not with him as the gatekeeper anyway. If you have the ability to kill him, you have the ability to kill us. So, why pretend?”

“… it’s funny?” Sylas grinned. “Mighty strange, for everyone to know there’s someone like him there, what with the dearest Prince inhabiting the far north.”

“It really was like that, huh?” the man mumbled, reclining back in the chair and sighing. “There were rumors and whispers, saying that the Prince still lives. Seemed convenient, however, that he was homed in the northernmost castle, just beyond that thing. You still haven't answered me—how did you kill him?“

„You seem mighty strong yourself,“ Sylas said. “Why didn’t you give it a shot?”

“You are still chattering. Haah. Fine, I suppose. We can forgo honesty. At least tell me what you’re doing here.”

“… reconnaissance,” Sylas replied. “Soon enough, the north will march south, toward the capital,” the man’s brows shot up in shock as his eyes widened. “And I am simply seeing what will await us.”

“…” the man fell silent, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “The civil war is inevitable?”

“If not civil, another would happen, and another,” Sylas said. “You can’t have been that blind to the realities of this Kingdom. If it were a horse-driven carriage, by now, the horses are dead, the carriage is moving uncontrollably, and it will soon careen off a cliff. The Prince merely wants to stand in front of the carriage and stop it, before the whole thing goes up in flames. Then again, chances are… the Prince will go down with it, and the true war for the Kingdom will break out anyway.”

“The Prince will need support,” the man said. “Might can only take him so far.”

“And the Prince will get that support,” Sylas said. “You needn’t worry. Question is, who will be deserving of providing that support? You asked me how I killed Abe,” he added, smiling faintly. “But that’s the wrong question. How do you kill someone, anyway? You simply do. The correct question is: why? Why kill him?”

“... why kill him?” the man asked, leaning further in, his eyes finally giving in to the sliver of emotion.

“Because he was a fuckin’ psycho,” Sylas shrugged indifferently. “And because men like that... cannot be controlled. They are too strong--either they succeed on their own, or they kill everyone trying. Tell me your story, however. Honestly, in my current state, if we went all out, you would be able to kill me. And though that sounds boastful, it’s kind of a miracle. Save for Abe and the king, you’re the strongest person I met.”

“You met the King?” the man arched his brows. “Face to face?”

“Aye.”

“A mighty honor. He rarely meets a soul these days.”

“Why would he?” Sylas shrugged. “He has no allies, everyone wants the piece of his land, and he had to banish the one he wanted to mantle the King because the Kingdom was boiling. Would you meet people if you were in his shoes?”

“... the King wanted Prince Valen to inherit the throne?”

“Your story,” Sylas smiled.

“... there isn’t much to it,” the man began after a moment’s silence. “I was born into the Order of the Royal Knights and finished my service seven years ago. As a ‘reward’ and because I didn’t wish to extend my service, I was given a ‘villa’ here and told to oversee the place.”

“And I spent most of my life just fiddling about in the shadows, training,” Sylas said. “Until one day I got tired and was ‘rewarded’ with being sent north with the Prince. See? I can bullshit too.”

“My story really is that simple, though," the man smiled bitterly. "The reason I was 'rewarded' this place was simply because I was the most decorated Knight of the Order. I have won the most duels, fought in the most battles, and was considered the potential Inheritor of the Chalice--which would have made me the Supreme Head of the Royal Army. I had no such ambitions, however, and instead retired."

“And you just so happen to retire in a place that would be the Prince’s first, true stop?” Sylas asked, wanting to scream. “That cunt’s really laid out the entire story, hasn’t he?”

“What do you mean?” the man asked, frowning.

“The last time I talked with the king, he told me that the only way the whole truth would be revealed... was if there was an army upon the capital, headed by Prince Valen himself. He, however, said it with such indifference that it begged the question: why was he acting as though it was a foregone conclusion? I’m strong--but I’m not undo-the-army strong. Well, not yet, anyway. And Valen is a charming young lad, but he’s no King.”

“You think... the King planted me here purposefully?” the man mumbled. “Impossible. Not only was this place ‘gifted’ to me by the Queen, but I retired seven years ago. Prince Valen, back then, was relatively well-liked, and there were no inclinations to what would transpire.”

“There never are unless you know where to look,” Sylas said. “Or unless you know the entire story. The more I hear about the Queen, the more I realize that she’s likely acting in the King’s place. The whole Kingdom, it seems, believes they hate each other, and she’s trying to carve out as much influence for herself to secure the throne for her son and further propel her family, but the whole thing... stinks. The pieces all fit just too nicely with one another. I thought this for a while, and now there is you.”

“...”

“For starters, you’re strong,” Sylas said. “But beyond that... you are reasonable. Do you have the faintest idea how fuckin’ rare that shit is?”

“Pff...”

“You walked into this room, looked me in the eyes, and asked me a straightforward question. There was no pretense, no empty flattery, no million tangents to hide the intentions. It’s quite literally unprecedented. Someone like you... never, ever, under no circumstances, ought to be found here. And neither should someone like Vanessa. I’m guessing she’s either got a huge lady boner for you and she followed you here, or she swore some kind of an oath and you spared her life.”

“... a bit of both, I suppose,” the man grinned faintly.

“The Prince is not alone,” Sylas said. “And it’s not just me. Though, to understand it, you’ll have to see it. Come with me north.”

“And abandon my post?” the man arched his brows. “I don’t even know your name, yet.”

“It’s Sylas.”

“I don’t know your intentions, Sylas.”

“To make Prince Valen a King no matter what the personal or the cosmic cost.”

“I don’t know your fears.”

“To be stuck in this world for all eternity.”

“... we ride at dawn,” the man said, extending his arm over the table. “My name is Avaneau. Friends call me Av.”

“Av,” Sylas nodded. “I’m surprised you have horses can that withstand you.”

“...”

“...”

“You’re a bit of a jester, aren’t you?”

“A bit? You’re underselling me.”

“Maybe I should just off your head and bring it to the Queen. I have a feeling she would reward me handsomely.”

“She would literally ask you ‘who the fuck is that and how dare you kill such a handsome man? Off with your head!’.”

“...”

“...”

“Pfft...”

“I got you.”

“Dammit. We ride at dawn.”

“Bring Vanessa with you.”

“You haven’t started fancying her, have you?” Av asked before leaving.

“I’m a man taken, I’m afraid. What I fancy is her potential.”

“... see you, Sylas.”

“Sleep well, Av.”