The Sworn Defender

by The Ranger

  Richard blinked, and the ravaged throne room fell silent as he looked upwards across the chamber. Before him now stood the spectral echo of his greatest friend.

  Lucian stood between him and the sorcerer, his somber eyes trained on Richard. He carried a sour and saddened expression on his face but said nothing, for he could not speak. Instead, the Prince lowered his head and shut his eyes, and when he blinked again, his friend was gone, leaving nothing behind except his gleaming, green jewel.

  "Lucian… did you… did you stop…"

  The sorcerer groaned as he lifted himself off the floor and raised his hand to gather flames around it. He hesitated, though, when his eyes fell upon the gem. He approached it, kneeling beside the small, rounded thing. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment.

  "What is this?" he asked, quietly at first. "Wh-what is this!"

  Richard wiped the dust and blood from his face and slowly shifted to sit up.

  "It's… you already know what that is," he murmured, using Levi's blade to help him rise to his feet.

  "H-how?"

  "He made a deal with an Ancient. His life in exchange for… this."

  Denial crawled through the wizard's eyes, and he clenched Lucian's life tightly between his fingers.

  "No… no… that can't… why would my…" he whispered. "I— I never meant to-"

  The man collapsed back onto the ground and could do nothing other than stare at the gem he held. With the wizard's back to him, Richard quietly began to make his way across the chamber towards him.

  "He was to be… to be my ward," Lucan muttered, his head held low. "The Queen… Ursula was my greatest friend, and the day I could call her my sister was the happiest of my life. She… she named her son in my honor, and I promised… I promised to…"

  There was a pause as the sorcerer's words fell, and Richard froze in place. He was halfway across the chamber and only a few steps away from reaching the distraught man. He remained still as the mage sat there silently, only moving again when he heard the man take a deep breath.

  "Meliodar," the sorcerer murmured quietly as he began to weep. "That is the name given to this extraordinary world of ours by the elves. It is a word, I believe, that sounds quite similar to 'melody.' Enough so, that I wonder if that is at all coincidental… because that is precisely what this world should be: harmonious and beautiful. But that is not what it is, because of what we are. Because we pervert and corrupt, we take and we twist— we who created this world in which my nephew would die in are not worthy of it!"

  The empty air moved aside as Richard raised his sword and leveled it with Lucan's neck. It hovered inches away from his flesh and needed little more than a sturdy push to cut deep.

  "So, go ahead," the wizard said, meeting the young man's eyes for the first time since gripping the gem. "Do not let my nephew's sacrifice be wasted…"

  He turned his head forward once more, held it still. Richard took a deep breath as he pulled back his arm and the blade with it. One swing and it would all be over. One swing.

  The two pulsating circles on Lucan's forearm caught his attention before he could strike him. The markings of his Blessings, the same foul things that had radiated darkness and viciousness throughout their battle. However, the shadows that graced their surface faded while he watched them. They grew bright, one taking on an orange sheen and the other reverting to the brilliant gold Richard had come to know well. The corruption that had enveloped them dissipated, leaving only their original forms.

  "Your Bless-"

  "What are you waiting for?" the sorcerer questioned. "Why prolong my disgrace?"

  He steadied his blade once more but paused as he looked at the cold steel one more time, then to the green gem that laid in the wizard's palm. It seemed to flicker for a moment, but the mage did not notice the change. It was not meant for him to see.

  "You…" the young man whispered. "You did intervene…"

  The mage turned to look at him oddly, his brow furrowed in confusion as Richard stood there silently.

  "I… I can't kill you, Sorcerer," he told him, drawing back his sword. "As… as much as you deserve it… I won't be your executioner."

  "W-why?" Lucan asked him with pleading eyes. "Why not?"

  "The fighting… is over. There has been enough death here."

  "Y-you would leave me alive? Alive to know what I caused!" the wizard cried out. "I'd rather leap from the top of Azra's cursed temple than wander the earth alone with my shame!"

  Richard looked at him carefully, turning his eyes to the gleaming gem that sat between them as he slid his blade into its scabbard.

  "But, you won't be alone. You've traveled the world, you've learned things I could only dream of knowing… and you'll do it again."

  "What?"

  "You will leave this place in peace, as you promised before," he continued. "And you will take that gem with you. My friend… your nephew… his soul cannot remain trapped in that… thing, that prison."

  Lucan's gaze darted back to the jewel in his hand, and he closed his eyes, clutching it tightly in his palm.

  "M-my power is not… I know of no method to-"

  "Then you will find one. Even if… even if you have to scour the earth to do it. There is no place for you in this world anymore. Reversing one of the… the many tragedies you caused is all that's left to do."

  The sorcerer watched him intently before nodding and cradling the gem in his hands as if it were a living, breathing child.

  Richard moved away from him and trudged across the chamber towards the throne. It was broken and scattered across the floor, and he could tell that the rest of the city was in no better shape. However, he found some small degree of solace as he looked out into the night sky. It was brightened by brilliant, shining lights that drifted through the air— the souls that drove the Seekers had been freed, and a part of him knew they were journeying to the next realm. Watching all the lives lost glide across the horizon made him wonder if he had made the right choice. It was a question that he would have to live with for the rest of his life, but he knew, at least, that his closest friend — that his Prince — might finally be at peace.

  Epilogue

  Khora

  The corner of Azra where Siggfer and Alva's home resided was usually a quiet one. However, two weeks had passed since darkness dwelled across the city and the Temple of Azra had been destroyed. Reconstruction, repairs, and salvage work had begun and was nowhere near completion. Khora could see men and women and children mill around as they did their best to aid the effort to rebuild their home, but she watched only from the window. She had been confined to Siggfer's home and Alva's care since she was pulled from the rubble. Even if her guardians had not made an effort to keep her here, there was nowhere she could go. Not on her own.

  She looked towards her leg, a frail, damaged echo of what it once was, bearing no less pain than it had when pinned beneath debris. She moved it slightly and winced when pain coursed through what little muscle there was left within it.

  Her pain did not go unnoticed, though, as a warm and familiar mass of fur sauntered over to her and nestled his snout near her ankle. She gave Ranger a short pat on his head and turned her attention to Alva as she entered the room carrying a bowl of stew. She set it in front of her along with a small biscuit.

  "Eat," the older woman commanded, watching her sternly. "Please, you need to eat."

  Khora picked up the wooden spoon by the bowl and stirred it through the stew lazily. She let it slip beneath the surface and picked a thin piece of chicken with her finger, only to lower it towards the dog, who lapped it up greedily.

  "That isn't for him; it's for you. If— if you'd rather have something else, then please let me know. Otherwise, have some. A little, at least."

  "I will, Alva," she finally said. "I… I will, just not right now."

  The older woman nodded at her and sighed as she turned to leave. She had nearly left the room when a firm tap tap tap sounded from the front d
oor. She shuffled towards that direction, and Khora shifted in her seat in an attempt to see who had come to the house. She could hear the older woman speaking with someone, but it was impossible to discern what was being said between the two.

  Eventually, she heard the door slam, followed by Alva crying out, "I said no visitors!" and stomping away. That statement may have confused Khora had it not been immediately followed by. "Tell her it's Eren! She'll want to see me!" and a pounding at the door.

  "He's a friend, Alva!" she yelled out, tilting her head in time to hear the woman stomp back.

  "Are you sure?" she asked, poking her head into the room. "He seems… rather… ill-tempered."

  Khora nodded, and her hostess marched away to let him in. A moment later, he appeared, wearing a warm smile accompanied by dreary eyes. He held something behind his back, but it was impossible to tell what it was from where he stood.

  "Good morning," he greeted, nodding his head slightly. "How is your — um — how are you today?"

  "I am fine. As is my leg. The pain has not… faded, but I can stand on it now."

  Khora had the fortune of being healed by Eilon, who had sensed the Soul Seekers' defeat. He and Andros immediately rode to Azra to help where they could. Had it not been for his intervention, she was unsure that her leg would have been saved— at least as much as it was.

  "How many more… sessions do you have with our favorite healer?" he asked her, fidgeting in place.

  "T-two…" she answered, moving in her seat to see what he hid behind his back. "One tomorrow, and another the following week… what are you holding?"

  He wavered slightly at the question, like a child might when their mother caught them misbehaving, but he steadied himself. He brought what he carried into open view: it was a long bundle, wrapped carefully and cautiously in thin linen. He passed it into her hands and took a step back.

  She looked it over carefully, feeling for whatever was hidden beneath the fabric. After a moment of quiet, Khora pulled at the tiny string that had tied the bundle together and brushed aside the linens. Within, laid her spear— broken. Its shaft was singed, and its head had snapped and now rested alongside the rest of it. She pressed her fingers into what was left of the once intricate carvings: lion, bear, bull.

  "That was pulled from… from the temple today," he explained. "I don't know if it was like that before, or if someone was careless enough to break it… if they did, I-I'll find out!"

  Khora looked at him before returning her attention to what she so tenderly held. She brought her hand to the head of the spear and to the cold metal that brought all the years of her life back to her mind. Times that were long behind her.

  "It is fine, Eren," she whispered. "There are… greater things to be lost."

  He turned his eyes to the dog that sat near her feet and then brought his gaze back to her.

  "Are you… are you coming today?" he asked. "I mean, I understand if you didn't — really, I do — I just… wanted to know."

  "What is happening today?"

  "Didn't he— well, it's… Richard's leaving today. I had thought… I would have assumed he told you, but I suppose… maybe he didn't want to disturb you?"

  "Maybe," she whispered, remembering the argument that broke forth the last time they spoke. "Still… I would… I want to see him before he goes."

  She pushed her hands against the chair she sat in, attempting to rise, but her leg buckled as soon weight was put on it. It gave out beneath her, and she quickly began to slip forward. Eren jumped ahead, catching her before she could fall.

  "I've got you," he reassured her. "Let me put you back in the chair…"

  She pushed him away as she straightened herself and leaned against the wall.

  "I can do this on my own! I just need… I need—"

  A groan escaped her lips as she scanned the room, and her eyes fell on her broken spear. She gripped it, pulling it closer and using it to steady herself. There would be pain, Khora knew, but she would be able to walk on her own without aid.

  "—this. I will be fine. Come, let's go meet him."

  Eren watched her, a pained look crossing over his face, but he said nothing to discourage her. He simply nodded and furrowed his brow as he kept his face from cracking, then he led her out of the house.

  The walk was much more uncomfortable than she had expected it to be. She had not anticipated that the day would be as painfully bright as it was, nor had she thought of asking how far they would have to go. Ranger walked alongside her, though, making her feel slightly more confident than she might have otherwise.

  While pain and discomfort raged across her body, it mattered little, as her mind was elsewhere throughout their short journey. It was on what she might say to Richard when she did meet him. They had last seen each other during the funeral rites given to the fallen. She had accosted him then — well, as much as she could have while confined to her chair — for allowing Lucan to escape. She reminded him of the blood that had been spilled and the debts owed to all those who had spilled it. However, he gave her nothing more than a meek apology then and promised her that fate would bring them peace, that the realm would find its own justice. She wanted to stand and slam her fist across his lips then, but she could not. As angry as Khora had felt, she knew her feelings were clouded by grief, and she knew that she could not afford to turn away from those she still had left.

  She had hoped that, in the time since, her feelings would have faded, and seeing him again would give rise to a renewed friendship. Yet, when she saw him from afar, standing next to his horse and conversing with Brandon, she knew her thoughts on the matter had not changed.

  He and Azra's steward had been so immersed in their conversation, they failed to notice her approach until the sound of her dragging foot stirred them.

  "Khora!" Richard called out as he rushed to help her, only to be held back by Eren. "I-I'm surprised you're here…"

  "Because of when we last-" she tried to question.

  "Because of your injury," he finished. "I had gone to see you, but… I could sense… I knew you weren't feeling well, and I thought it would be best if I let you rest."

  She shuffled on her feet, attempting to find a comfortable balance, but she kept her eyes on his. She saw in them the same kindness and worry she had seen countless times before. Even in bitter disagreement, he was still her friend.

  "Yes, well, you should have still come in. Even with Alva and Ranger, the solitude… it gnaws at me."

  A small smile broke across her face, but there was little warmth within it.

  "So," Eren chimed in, glancing away from her. "What were you two talking about just now?"

  "The archives," Brandon told them. "About everything we're finding in there."

  The steward looked at her with the same kind eyes he had possessed before, but unlike the others, there was no pity within them— no thoughts concerning her frailty.

  "The archives?" she repeated. "What survived the fire?"

  "All of it. I don't know how to explain it, but not a single ember touched what was held within. It's all been left for us to find," Richard answered, shaking his head in disbelief. "It seems like, for the first time, everything has been laid bare— the truth of all that's come to pass to bring us here. Laycen, Lacerne… even Levi. This kingdom was founded because he and his followers fled a disaster in their homeland. All the kings since him chose to isolate Azra to keep it… safe, away from the eyes of their original enemies. There's… there's so much for us to learn of the past and the world around us."

  "When you first told us about Lucan," Eren started, looking at his friend. "I found it hard to believe. Not just that he was Lacerne's brother, but that what happened then could lead to all this. And now… well, I don't know. I… this is our home, and we knew what amounted to nothing about it."

  "My Pap-Pap Bart used to always say that the biggest mistake anyone could ever make is trying to know their enemies better than their friends," Brandon revealed.

/>   "A wise man," Khora complimented, nodding her head in the young man's direction.

  "So, friends," Eren sighed. "What now?"

  She turned her attention to Richard and watched as he patted the horse that waited patiently beside him.

  "I have much I want to learn—" he murmured. "—and not all of it can be done within our archives. I want to journey across these lands and uncover the past. Understand more about my abilities and my potential… and maybe… maybe even Lyla can help me with that…"

  "You could definitely use some time away from all this," Eren smiled. "Me… I thought I'd want the same, but… I feel like I haven't done enough with the time I've been given, especially when others… have had fewer opportunities."

  Richard set his hand on their friend's shoulder and squeezed it lightly, to which he released a slight sigh.

  "Anyway, I think that starts with repairing this place," he continued. "And helping Azra's next leader sort through this entire mess."

  "Who will be the next king?" Khora asked them. "I heard… I heard whispers that it would be you, Richard, but…"

  "You do have the sword," their friend pointed out, tapping its hilt lightly.

  RHe laughed slightly before shaking his head at the notion.

  "No… I might carry this blade, but I'm not fit to lead anyone."

  "They did want him, though," Brandon revealed. "Most of them, at least. Without a real heir to the throne, the barons came together to decide on one themselves. Some of them were… less than happy with how you dealt with the wizard, but Captain Finnegan did nothing but praise you. His reputation, and yours, convinced them. Really, I think they just wanted someone like you for the throne, rather than upset the balance by giving more power to just one of their own."

  "Were you there during the entire meeting?" she asked him.

  "I've been there for all of them," the young man returned. "I'm still the Steward of Azra, so I've had to keep up with all of the kingdom's needs."