Odyssey of the Guardian Emperor

Alaric woke up to an empty feeling in his chest as though his very heart had been hollowed out, torched of all emotions. He'd slept exceedingly well, but his motivation was at an all-time low. He was even more irritated this morning than before and it irked him. His guardian's words echoed through his mind like daggers to his heart.

It was the kind of pain he didn't know how to cure, and that irked him even more.

Taking a deep breath, he thought to himself, 'What would Alia normally have me do at times like this?'

Much as he hated to admit it, the guardian, the very source of his pain, had taught him a lot. He knew that somewhere in all those lessons lay an answer to this predicament. It was a while before the answer came to him and a while longer before he begrudgingly accepted it.

Meditation.

The thought of it alone made him cringe, and yet he had no choice but to meditate. Sitting upright in the criminally plush bed, Alaric crossed his legs and calmed his breathing, allowing his thoughts to flow freely so he could sort them out and be done with all that ailed him.

'You don't know pain, Little Prince…' he mocked her words.

'Don't know pain… Pfft! I know pain. I'm an orphan… I don't know pain? Pain knows me… I… I was killed in my past life. If anyone knows pain, it should be… Hmm… Well, I don't remember dying, but… but, I know pain… Ugh, to hell with this… Pain shmain… Ugh…'

Two hours later…

Yes, it was a whole two hours before the grumbling young Guardian Emperor managed to shake off the irritation and regain a sense of stability. During his meditation, after much of his grumbling, he'd pictured a great many things.

Among them was punishing his guardian for all the pain she was causing him— and for leaving him alone. Sadly, such thoughts, no matter how cruel, vivid or dark, were a part of the process. They were necessary. By the time his eyes opened again, silence reigned supreme in his mind, and his heart beat steadily, calm at last.

'Tranquillity at last,' he sighed.

He got up and drew a bath. While he freshened up, he marvelled at the smallest things he could find—something he hadn't been able to do the night prior. The scented soaps that made the bath water smell drinkable, like he was bathing in a tub of fruit punch; the rune at the bottom of the tub that activated every so often to add heat to the water; the craftsmanship of the water faucets, built with the care and skill of a skilled smith.

He dried himself off and left the bathroom a few minutes later.

His closet, which was a word he only learnt after consulting Sabre, was filled with clothes of all sorts, all made from the material used to make the bag that the High Sentinel stored their storm orbs in. Only that this quality was far richer.

Soft to the touch yet light, no matter how much fabric he held. A faint hum of aether rippled off the clothes, keeping the clothes warm and comfortable, like a hug from Sister Marla. Alaric felt inadequate for even thinking of trying on the high-end clothes.

Giving in to the fact that he had nothing to wear but his white armour and dirty clothes from the day before, he chose a casual-looking tunic, perhaps the worst of everything grandiose in this closet, and exited the room.

It was a simple outfit. A brilliant shade of navy blue that didn't stand out as much as the rest. It shrank to fit his frame, staying somewhat loose at his torso and thighs with tight forearms and shins. He liked the brilliant embroidery at the hems and chest. Much effort had gone into making this outfit.

Combing his hair, he stared at himself in the mirror and frowned, 'This still looks very good. Is there anything average in that closet?'

Then again, he could still remember the smirk on the High Sentinel's face when he saw how out of place and uncomfortable Alaric felt in the room. 'I bet he'll be happy to find that I failed to find something casual,' he chucked.

Alaric secured his copper-coloured Storage Bracelet over the sleeve and left the room.

On the floor below, he found LionHeart standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in far more opulent attire. The outfit had Alaric gaping at the big man. While most of the garments in the demiplane took on gold and white colours, Alaric had found one in navy blue and was more than happy to wear something less flashy, but his protector had clearly done nothing of the sort.

LionHeart turned to him, his movements transcending grace, and gave the boy a smug smile, "Looking good, Lord of Sleep!"

"I'm looking good? Have you looked in the mirror?" Alaric gasped, "Wow."

"I know, right. I've never been one for clothes, but I can get used to this," Lionheart stretched his sleeveless shirt awkwardly and watched it snap back into place without as much as a crease. "This could go for an easy hundred gold marks in Emerlin."

"I have no doubt," Alaric answered. His friend looked really good. "How long have you been standing here?"

"Longer than I would have liked. The High Sentinel said it's forbidden for anyone other than you and him to go up there. Then, he refused to go up himself." The protector shrugged, "How does it feel to be a favourite of Delphi?"

Alaric let out a nervous chuckle, "Me? A Constellation's favourite? I think you've got the wrong guy."

"That's what I said," LionHeart responded, "But he is convinced. Scratch that. He is positive you're the guy. It must have something to do with Soren. He probably had a run-in with the Constellation of Knowledge."

A door not far from them opened and Lucy stepped out, wearing a short golden skirt that almost reached her knees, a loose white top tucked into her skirt with an embroidered pelerine that hid the top half of her arms and cute slippers.

Having listened to their conversation, though, she didn't give them a chance to take in her outfit. She jumped right in, "I think the High Sentinel is right, though. Alaric might be blessed by the the Constellation of Revelation. He's immune to my Inborn Ability ability which hides me from everyone I choose… except for Saints, though it seems."

LionHeart's eyes lit up, "Oh yeah! You have a point. Good morning, Lucy."

"Good morning."

Another door opened to reveal Scarlett dressed in similarly white and golden attire. However, where Lucy wore a skirt, she put on loose-fitting pants that seemed to balloon closer to her ankles. Her shirt was less modest, showing her navel, which wasn't hidden at all by the furry jacket she had on.

Scarlett pitched in as she approached them, "Let's not forget that Shroud spell that he learnt in less than a day."

LionHeart paled this time and turned to Alaric, "It's not looking good, Holy Prince."

Alaric's hand flew to the back of the big man's head before he could stop himself, but the big man flinched just in time to dodge the hand, mischievous laughter trailing as he descended the stairs with Alaric hot on his tail.

Lucy stared down with a sigh, "Boys!"

"Tell me about it!" Scarlett responded, "Nice outfit!"

"Thank you," Lucy beamed, "You look good, too. A little bolder than anything I could pull off, though."

Scarlett's expression turned a little sombre, her tone heavy, "It makes no difference. Alaric doesn't even realise I was mad at him yesterday. I almost challenged him to a Duel of Wind."

Lucy absentmindedly pulled Scarlett into a side hug and started the walk to the stairs, "Speaking of Alaric, do you maybe, probably, have feelings for…"

"Not in a million years," Scarlett shut her down.

"Oh, relax, girl. I was just messing with you," the silver-haired girl laughed out loud as she led her friend down the stairs.

Scarlett stopped her halfway to look back up, "Isn't Troy coming?"

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"Troy left early in the morning. He somehow managed to convince the High Sentinel to pick him up early so he could get started on the Alchemy," Lucy responded.

"With all those nerves?" Scarlett raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, I was surprised, too. He asked me to escort him, but let him do the talking. I thought he'd bite his tongue, and I'm sure he almost did. He was shaking the whole time and wouldn't look the old man in the eyes, not that I can either. It proved his dedication, though, and the High Sentinel was, no doubt, impressed," Lucy responded.

"Wow! Even I'm impressed," Scarlett mused.

"Yeah, yeah. Now, about your situation, I think you're approaching this all a bit wrong. Have you thought of maybe running away with the guy? He seems quite free-spirited, and if you ask me, I doubt he'd say no to a date," Lucy spoke in a quiet tone and made sure they were far behind the boys.

It took Scarlett a little longer than she would have liked to catch up with what Lucy was talking about, and it turned her face red like a tomato, "Since when are you so forward?"

"I'm forward with all my friends," she answered with a high-pitched laugh. She had Scarlett right where she wanted her.

***

Alaric heard about Troy's situation from LionHeart as they descended the stairs, the girls not far behind them. Oblivious to the girl-talk happening above, the boy hopped into conversation with his protector, "You think they'll give us a tour before we go to find the alchemists?"

"I would hate to leave this place without getting a tour," LionHeart responded, "How many people do you think ever get the chance to visit a demiplane?"

"I thought you'd been to a demiplane before," Alaric wondered. "Don't protectors get to travel the continent with Seekers?"

"Oh, I was only recently promoted to a rank that allows me to do that. The Protectors go through a lot of training while they protect the Tower, and there are requirements they should meet before they even allow them to go out on missions with Seekers," the man explained.

"That makes me your first mission away from the Tower," Alaric noted, his eyes going wide.

"Close, but there was one before. That time we escorted you back to Five Hills. The only reason they let me and Gunther go as your bodyguards that time was because we had Garin with us. Garin's a Lieutenant, so he gets more freedom," LionHeart answered.

"Is he the one who gave you the promotion?" Alaric asked.

"Oh no. That was Elder Gregory. Garin recommended me for the promotion, though, as I'd already begged him to. If it wasn't for Elder Gregory, though, this promotion was never going to happen. Elder Casper had around three other Protectors lined up already. Of course, we all know those Protectors would report directly to him. He might have a lot of influence within the Tower, but no one goes against the will of a Keeper except another Keeper," LionHeart answered.

Alaric's eyes went wide with shock. "I thought the Tower was united. The contract I signed was strict on conflict."

"Oh? So you read the Contract?" LionHeart asked with a raised brow.

"Almost everything."

"I'm impressed. I barely read a thing when I was signing mine. The Tower is, and has always been, united. However, the definition of unity, for an organisation as knowledgeable as the Tower of Seekers, tends to bend. Just because I'm your ally doesn't mean I have to be your friend," the man responded, "The Seekers of the Tower will remain loyal to the Tower but fight amongst themselves on the smallest, trivial matters. They even go as far as to sabotage each other for the sake of those conflicts."

Alaric gasped, and his eyes went even wider, "Sabotage? Is that even allowed?"

"For as long as they don't take it too far, Elder Gregory allows it. He will put his foot down when they step out of line, but everyone knows he doesn't want to create a Tower ruled by fear, so he lets them have their fun. That's what Gunther told me in my first weeks at the Tower. Before that, I was a raging mess about to make mistakes I'd come to regret," LionHeart laughed.

Alaric's curiosity grew. If he'd had no interest in knowing the inner workings of the Tower of Seekers before, he did now. What else was there to know about the Tower of Seekers? He wanted to know. It hadn't even occurred to him that he could ask for all the juicy gossip on Elder Casper. Before they could continue their conversation, a cough interrupted them, drawing their attention to a trio waiting by the bottom of the stairs to the courtyard.

Alaric stopped and so did LionHeart, recognising Grun'am and Kair'ak among the three, but something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut that it was. The third individual with them was a peculiar demihuman dressed in a leather sleeveless vest and rugged trousers tucked into leather boots.

Knives could be seen sticking out of sheaths tied along his legs and waist as he addressed them with a stiff posture. His face was the furthest thing from the smiles and warm expressions on the twins' faces.

"Good morning, Alaric," Kair'ak greeted with the subtle edge of anxiety in her voice, "We are the three chosen to show you around. This is Par'al. We grew up together, but…"

"But, I don't like you," Par'al interrupted. He broke away from the other Heaven-Crested eagles and climbed the steps to the Pantheon to stand on the same ground as Alaric, easily towering over him. He was tall even for a demihuman, but that's not what caught Alaric's attention. Instead, it was the raw negative energy rolling off the man.

LionHeart sensed it, too. Before he could move, Alaric put his hand out to stop him from lunging at the threatening man looming over him. Par'al ignored the silent exchange, "I'll be blunt. I don't believe for one second that you're the Guardian Emperor. You might have the others fooled, but I'm not as desperate for hope and naive as they are. I believe in what I see, and when I look out there, I see the rotten mess the Guardian Emperor left the world in one thousand years ago."

Alaric nodded, keeping his heartbeat steady. The girls had just made it down the stairs when they found Alaric staring at the man. "Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"Just one more thing, you will find many others sharing the same opinion down there. Some of our people are like these hopeless twits here who believe you're some sort of saviour. Then, there are realists… like me. We don't need some outsider to break the world any more than it already is." Par'al hissed and turned away, returning to the twins.

Alaric watched his back leave and let out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding. Grun'am gave him an apologetic wince, which was saying a lot for the rough male and with that, the tour began. Or at least, it tried to begin.

They hadn't left the courtyard when Alaric's attention was drawn to a group of children playing with a feather-woven ball in the large courtyard of the Pantheon, right in front of the giant gold statue. The ball whistled through the air like a mass of feathers possessed by wind spirits—spinning, twisting and turning without warning.

"LionHeart," he grasped his protector's collar enthusiastically, "They are using wind magic! And they're only children!"

LionHeart had seen that spark in his eye before, "Oh no. You're not joining them."

"But look at them go," Alaric cried.

The children darted after the ball with incredible bursts of speed, taunting the authority of gravity as their little game sometimes took them high into the air. Using wind and wings that occasionally sprouted from their backs, they chased after the ball, intending to possess it for the longest time. At first glance, it was a simple game, but it soon became clear that controlling the ball while running from the others was insanely harder than getting it. It was an interesting game to watch, and if it wasn't for LionHeart holding him back, Alaric would have joined them.

After much fighting, he gave up and fell in with the others, childish laughter still rolling out of his mouth, "Those kids are so skilled. Wind magic took me so long to get comfortable with. It's elusive, but those children control the ball's trajectory like it's second-nature."

"They would make a fool out of you in that game," Grun'am laughed, "You don't even have wings."

"I think I can grow wings. I haven't had enough practice with them, though, and I doubt I can put them back as fast as those children can. How are there children here anyway? I thought all demihumans start as Aether Beasts." Alaric mused.

"You claim to be the Guardian Emperor and yet you know so little about our kind?" Par'al growled. Grun'am was by his side in an instant, pushing him further away from Alaric.

"Back off, Par'al. It was an innocent question. He's a human, remember. These things don't even occur to them," the demihuman tried, "Just like some things about them don't occur to us."

"What's his problem?" Scarlett asked, feeling the need to draw her knives.

Kair'ak stood between the two males and the group and smiled, "Ignore him. We tried to get the High Sentinel to reconsider, but he insisted. Let's get started with the tour. We can stop for a meal on the way. How does that sound?"

"Lovely," LionHeart piped up.

"Right this way then."

Kair'ak secretly glared daggers at Par'al before leading the group out of the courtyard and into a section of the city Alaric had only barely glimpsed upon their arrival. All around them, Alaric observed several odd contraptions all designed for spinning, weaving and other form of manipulating thread. Naturally, he was entranced by what he saw.

Magic hummed through the air as women lay out golden threads and went about weaving beautiful patterns, sometimes creating unique white and golden fabrics while other times embroidering cloth of the two colours—white and gold. It was rather peculiar to find out how common those two colours were in the demiplane.

Alaric saw more than his brain could keep up with, but he was interested all the same. If it hadn't been for the urgency in Kair'ak's voice, he would have gotten lost in the beauty of the textile section of the city.

"Children of the Higher Ones are born as Higher Ones. It's an evolution that gets passed down through generations. They instead have to learn how to shift back into their animal selves. The demiplane was built to hide the Higher Ones from humans and offer safe haven to any Heaven-Crested Eagles that do manage to evolve into one of us," Kair'ak explained the answer to Alaric's question.

"Ah! So, that's what that Three-Cut Bone Tiger meant," he thought to himself, "Although he also mentioned that the Higher Ones advised him to wait for the Great Protector to return."

Par'al snapped at Alaric, "That is old wisdom, and it's misguided. It's an old belief passed down from the old Higher Ones. Their faith is sickening. It's absurd to wait a thousand years for a single person while the world rots."

Alaric merely shrugged, "I think you and the younger version of that tiger would agree. Have you ever asked why the older Higher Ones chose that long? Perhaps they didn't tell you because it's something you wouldn't understand. Perhaps they told you to protect you from a fate you weren't ready to face. The tiger seemed to understand this after he passed away."

"And how would you know when he was dead?"

"I spoke to him."

"No one can speak to the dead, human. The Constellation of Death would never allow it," Par'al hissed.

"That's enough out of both of you," Kair'ak commanded. "Alaric, did you have to wear something so jarring?"

'Wait, what…' Alaric looked down at his navy blue attire.

It was nice to the touch and quite fashionable in his opinion, but nothing nearly as opulent as the white and gold everyone was sporting. Alaric looked himself over, "What! Is there something wrong with it?"

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, "Never mind! Let's proceed with the tour… and Par'al, just… Just shut up, okay."

Par'al's eyes went wide before he raised his hands and backed off, "I'll try, but I can't make any promises."