Odyssey of the Guardian Emperor

The tears wouldn't stop, and Alaric gave up on holding them back. He needed that moment of weakness, and he was glad that it happened within the In-Between. It did not get more private than this.

And while this situation made his guardian the slightest bit uncomfortable, she tolerated it for his sake, a stark contrast to the cold shoulder she'd been giving him days ago.

"Do you feel that justice was served?" she asked rhetorically.

"No," Alaric sighed, "Rail'ak didn't acknowledge his mistakes or even apologise to Troy. I think I pushed him closer to that conclusion, though."

"Or you could have pushed him even further away from it," the guardian corrected, pulling away from the boy, "He could just decide to hate you for the rest of his life… and even plot his revenge."

"That would make him a fool not fit to rule the demiplane," a black puma interrupted them, "It would be a shame for a place like this to fall into the hands of someone like that."

"Sabre!" Alaric's eyes lit up, though he seemed to notice a look of irritation on his guardian's face as he beamed at the winged guardian. The puma walked into Alaric's waiting arms, allowing the human to scratch behind her ears while she licked his face gently.

"Your rage shook this realm, Little One. I feared that you would do something we'd all regret," the puma informed.

"I know I'm powerful for my age, but I don't think I can break anything just by being angry," Alaric responded with a chuckle.

"You underestimate yourself," the puma noted, "That's good. It will protect you."

"Master clobbered the untrained Steel Rank really well. WorldHammer approves," a gruff voice filtered in from the meadow, drawing a chuckle from Alaric. The stone knight stood a fair distance away from Alia, still scared of taking another beating from the black knight.

"I would have done a better job," a white clone pitched in from around the large tree, joining them, "You know… because I'm better at magic than you are. Not even at the Glass Temper rank, and I can bring down the wrath of the elements."

"Oh? What else would you do?" Alaric cooed, just a little curious to find out what was in the clone's head.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I don't grow tired, unlike you. That endurance thing would have gone a long way if you'd used me like you did back in Melbourne, but hey, I'm not judging your poor planning skills," the clone answered flippantly.

Alaric could only laugh as the white nuisance continued spilling the alternatives he had. WorldHammer added commentary, too, though his additions always involved using a hammer or some other manner of object to clobber his victim. The group spent time talking to Alaric until he eventually fell asleep in the meadow, a smile on his face.

The breeze was cool and the atmosphere warm, like a gentle hug, reflecting Alaric's mood. As they watched him rest, Sabre asked, "Did he at least stop thinking of the fact that he had to resort to violence to resolve this?"

"Yes… for a moment, he did," Alia answered, "Necessary as it was, that course of action is going to hang over his head for a while. He's never been the type to take pride in bringing others down. The Guardian Emperor is a nurturer, not a destroyer."

"Did he really speak to Constellation?" the puma asked.

"Yes, he did," the girl groaned, "Now that he's spoken to one, the others are going to start watching him closely for opportunities. For now, though, let's focus on his recovery and rise to the Stone Rank."

……………………

It had happened fifteen years ago. The tragedy that had shaken the Heaven-Crested Eagle's demiplane the most in centuries. Fifteen years was not a long time when cast upon the life of one who'd already lived centuries, and yet, during that time, Rail'ak had allowed himself to forget a lot of things.

No, that wasn't right. He had forced those memories down, failing to face the folly behind his own actions. A tragedy had turned into a blur in his mind. A face long forgotten. A name buried over the past few years, never to be spoken near him. It echoed in his mind, as his mind struggled against memories he'd worked so hard to scarf down.

On that fateful day, there had been death, and there had been lots of tears. It was the day he came to loathe demons as much as he did, and in turn, it was the day he came to loathe humans for their negligence in their duty to purge the world of them.

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He came to loathe his father, too, for deciding to wait a thousand years for a fable that would probably never show, while the world outside was infested by the demon scourge—a scourge that had now brought tragedy upon their beloved demiplane.

How much longer could he wait? He wasn't alone in this sentiment, and as many rallied beside him, he grew into his role as the leader who would liberate his people from the confines of the demiplane and purge the world of both humans and demons.

Ah! What a vision it had been!

He'd been angry… so angry, and yet everything had been overturned in a single night, and by a measly Wood Rank. He was the Guardian Emperor, so his rank meant little. But for the man to so expertly dismantle everything Rail'ak spent fifteen years building in just a single night proved beyond doubt that he was indeed the Guardian Emperor.

His rage shook the demiplane, threatening to throw down the Storm Pagoda. And yet even through that rage, he carefully orchestrated a punishment beyond Rail'ak's incapacitation. The human's vengeance hurt more than his broken spine.

His eyes darted beneath his eyelids while he roused from sleep. He couldn't tell how long he'd been out cold. From the pain that ravaged his body, it wasn't long… He could barely close his eyes without the nightmares of his past berating him, so he decided to keep them open a while longer, awaiting a sleep that would probably never come.

………

Inside a building painted white, a beaten prince rested in a bloodied bed, wrapped in bandages enchanted to numb pain while Healing elixirs did their work. A broken spine, even in the category of broken bones, was a difficult part of the body to heal. Pain flared through his body every once in a while, and he struggled to breathe naturally.

Curtains surrounding his body allowed him privacy even though they did nothing to dull the murmurs coming from the nurses and demihumans milling through the facility.

'How is the prince doing?' 'Who cares? When will he leave the demiplane?' 'I swear I always knew something was off about him.' 'To think he forgot the biggest tragedy in our history.' 'Conquest! Pfft! Mother has been trying to warn me for a long time now. I just never thought it would take an outsider for us to realise how delusional he was.'

A set of footsteps cut through the voices, silencing them all at once.

"Your Majesty!" the voices all exclaimed, "We didn't hear you coming."

"Hiding my presence isn't unheard of. Would you mind keeping the noise around my son to a minimum? I think the spinal injury and impending exile are painful enough as it is," the High Sentinel's deep voice reverberated through the medical ward.

"Yes, Your Highness," came several hushed replies.

The silence that came after brought Rail'ak some semblance of comfort. It was not a harsh rebuke from the High Sentinel. Instead, the man had made a plain, genuine request, and it was a request they would honour, as it came from their protector.

The curtains opened a moment later, admitting a bearded old man dressed in gold and white robes. He walked with the grace of a saint, gliding across the ground effortlessly to a table next to his son's bed. There, he poured himself a glass of water and drank. The prince, unable to move his neck properly, strained his eyes to keep track of the man's movements.

"Want some?" the High Sentinel asked.

"I don't know which is better. The murmurs you just silenced or your patronising gestures," Rail'ak answered painfully, his breath a hoarse, scraping sound. He held back his tears. Seeing his father make such a blatant joke wasn't at all what he expected. He was supposed to yell and tell him everything he'd done wrong. "What do you want, old man?"

"Can't a father check up on his son?" the High Sentinel answered.

"Not if that old man quietly watched his son take a beating from an Outsider," Rail'ak answered darkly.

"You know the rules of the Duel of Wind, and I warned you. I actually hoped you'd see it early enough and yield before it got to that point," the man answered with a chuckle. "So, how are you doing?"

Rail'ak adjusted himself only to freeze up and grit his teeth as a wave of crushing pain shot through his spine. The bandages over his body shone, pushing the enchantments to their limits. The numbing enchantments took effect a few seconds later. By then, a sheen of sweat covered the prince's forehead, "Remember when I dropped your greatsword on my toe three hundred years ago? I thought my bones had turned to powder."

Ungv'ak's eyes widened in shock, "You remember that?"

"That… among other things," Rail'ak answered with a melancholic sigh, "Fifty-four of our comrades died in the demon attack fifteen years ago. The results of my rash decision to attack without your consent. My best friends before that day were Kair'ak, Grun'am… and Meril'ak. Triplets. I was betrothed to Meril'ak, and her death broke me. I haven't said her name in so long. I wanted to forget a lot after that, and I succeeded. I've always wondered why Kair'ak and her brother hate me so much. I even went on to blame the humans for not ending the demon scourge that threatens all of us. All to cover up my error in judgment, and this is where it's gotten me."

Ungv'ak's expression softened as his son spoke. The memories in his mind went beyond a few moments. They went beyond the events of the tragedy fifteen years ago, to centuries before he wanted to succeed his father. To times when they were happier, and life was much simpler. Times when father and son used to do all things silly, serious and every shade in between.

Rail'ak remembered it all, and he told his father the best of those memories. Ungv'ak wasn't just stunned to find his son in this state. This was far beyond anything he'd expected. Had Alaric's 'game' at the end of the duel triggered something in his son? Even with exile, the High Sentinel had doubted it would have this kind of effect on his son, and yet a single duel seemed to have accomplished a full reset. The prince was introspective, and regret shook his body.

He would take his exile gracefully and appreciate his father's leniency. The High Sentinel listened to his son patiently, hiding his trembling hands.

'Thank you again, Soren.'

……………