by TurtleMe
I tried to turn around, but I couldn’t move. I watched as the three nobleman shrank back, mouths hanging open stupidly. I saw an expression on Trodius’s face that I had never seen from him before… an expression of fear—of abject, overwhelming terror.
Though he attempted to appear calm and collected, he failed. Sweat rolled down his face and the barrier of fire that he had instinctively conjured fizzled away.
In a high, breathless voice, as if a large fist were currently wrapped around his throat, Trodius spoke.
“General… Arthur.”
228
Punishable Actions
ARTHUR LEYWIN
Applause and cheers erupted as soon as I entered through the fortress gate. Soldiers, smiths, and laborers all stopped what they were doing. Some bowed, others clapped, but they all looked at me with wonder and appreciation.
I couldn’t take it. Not the people, not the appreciation, not the expressions of relief. I couldn’t be here.
Sylvie, get my sister and take her to my mother. She’s going to need someone to be there for her, I conveyed as I strode past the cluster of tents that made up the field hospital.
My bond tugged the sleeve of my shirt. “I’ll go get your sister, but Arthur… your mother will need you as much as she needs your sister.”
I’m the last person she’d want to see. She no longer sees me as a son, and any semblance of affection she might’ve had for me after I told her the truth… that will be gone now that I failed to keep my promise to keep everyone alive—everyone safe.
Sylvie shook her head, and I could feel her doubt and disagreement. I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her, not now, so I simply walked away.
“General… Arthur,” Trodius wheezed, his body involuntarily shrinking back in his seat.
I took another step toward the senior captain, eliciting panicked responses from the nobles beside him.
“M-my spell! How…?” the lanky one sputtered, pointing his wand at me, though he seemed to be having trouble keeping it steady.
The portly man to Trodius’s left was a bit more courageous. “Stay back! You are in the presence of nobility! How dare you intrude upon our confidential meeting,” he threatened.
The third noble, a small-framed man sporting a thick mustache, was overwhelmed by the pressure I was exerting and slid to the ground, lying in an unconscious heap behind Trodius.
I took another step into the tent. The lanky one squealed and the fat one flinched. Trodius glistened in the lamplight as sweat poured down his face, but otherwise he appeared unfazed.
The sea of rage and grief that churned inside me had been drained, leaving a hollow void that allowed me to think clearly. No longer were the screams of panic and worry in my head clouding my judgment. Now, there was only silence within me—a ghostly lull.
It was comforting, in a sense.
If I had reached the tent just ten minutes earlier, I would’ve done to Trodius what I had done to Lucas—or worse.
Except I realized, in this numb and emotionless state of mind, that Trodius wasn’t as simple as Lucas. I would gain nothing by killing Trodius, and he would be able to take any pain I dealt him with that same constipated expression he always had.
I couldn’t just hurt him; I knew that now. I couldn’t treat Trodius the same way I did Lucas.
I took another step forward, and Trodius finally spoke. Straightening his posture and clearing his throat, he looked me in the eyes and asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure of a Lance gracing me with his presence?”
His scrutinizing gaze and the ever-so-slight sneer that tugged on the edge of his lips told me what I already knew. He wasn’t afraid of the pain that I could cause him or even the death that he might face. With his resourcefulness, he was confident in being able to escape, and he would relish the chance to be “the one that withstood the fury of a mad Lance.”
“D-don’t come any closer!” the portly man said, drawing his own toy-like wand.
“Settle down,” I said dismissively, causing both the conscious nobles to flinch.
“Even a general should show respect to those of noble blood,” Trodius admonished, shaking his head.
Another bait. He wanted me to do something so that he could retaliate.
I walked leisurely around the table, keeping my expression and posture passive. Arriving in front of the fat noble, I gestured with a finger. “Move.”
“M-move?” he echoed, flabbergasted, the wand trembling in his hands.
Anger must’ve triumphed over his fear, or maybe the cornered mouse tried to bite out of pure instinct, but it was over before it even began.
I sensed the mana manifesting along the length of the wand, but before the portly noble could finish the spell, a current of wind hammered down on top of him, slamming his face down into the hard dirt floor.
I used his wide girth as a footstool as I took a seat on the meeting table just inches away from Trodius. The senior captain’s mask of indifference faltered, traces of anger flaring up then disappearing just as quickly.
“General Arthur,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “The noble beneath your feet is Sir Lionel Beynir of the esteemed Beynir House. You will show him and Sir Kyle—”
Trodius was interrupted as Sir Kyle bolted toward the exit, slamming his hip into the table and disrupting the piles of paperwork stacked neatly in front of the senior captain. Howling in pain, the nobleman threw himself to the ground, both hands pressed to his side as if he’d been stabbed.
Trodius glared at the papers strewn about the desk, a look of mild disdain on his pinched face.
“Oh, be quiet,” I grumbled, waving my hand in Sir Kyle’s direction. A thin bolt of lightning mana leapt from my fingers and struck him at the base of his skull, knocking him out instantly and quieting his howls.
Turning back to Trodius, I leaned forward, grinding my heels into the unconscious Sir Lionel Beynir. “You see, Trodius, I care little for people who fail to meet the minimum threshold of decency, regardless of wealth, fame, or prestige.”
Trodius’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? I don’t know exactly how much you heard from outside, but your actions will not be tolerated, no matter what sort of position you hold in the military. To blatantly sully a noble—”
“You keep referring to yourself and these fools as nobles, but all I see are four weasels trying to capitalize on their own country’s loss, stepping on the corpses of their soldiers to lift themselves up.” I looked down at the noble beneath my feet to emphasize my point.
Trodius’s eyes flared with indignation. “Revoking the plan that you suggested is no sin, General Arthur. The loss of life is regrettable, but for the sake of preserving this fortress, their deaths are not in vain.”
“Except that your goal for keeping the Wall intact was purely to try and build yourself your own little society where you and your minions will have free reign.”
“Nonsense! My goal was to create a safe haven, so the citizens of Dicathen have a place to sleep without fear. For you to twist my words—”
My hand snapped out and I grabbed his tongue, holding it firmly between my forefinger and thumb. “Twisting words is what this thing seems to do best.”
A flicker of blue flames danced on the tip of the senior captain’s tongue as I pressed firmly down. Trodius’s eyes widened in pain and he tried to shield himself with his own fire-affinity mana, but he wasn’t powerful enough.
The smell of burning flesh filled the tent as I branded his tongue with my ignited fingers. Trodius endured, unable to let go of his pride long enough to even let out a sound.
I pulled the senior captain close, my fingers still sizzling on top of his burning tongue. I let the malice drip from my voice as I hissed into his ear, “You see, Trodius, one of the soldiers that died out there because of your selfish plans was my father.”
He stiffened and the color drained from his face. His eyes searched my own, perhaps trying to decide if I was about to kill him. Perhaps
he was hoping I would.
“Your decision was informed not by military strategy but by self-gratification. You bartered with your own men’s blood—you traded my father’s future to enrich your own, and don’t you think for a fucking second that I’m going to let that go.” I released my grip on his blackened tongue. The tip had completely burnt away, leaving only a blackened stub.
Trodius immediately snapped his jaw shut, clamping his hands over his mouth as if hoping to protect his mutilated tongue from further damage.
“Don’t think that my relationship with your sister and estranged daughter have anything to do with why I’m keeping you alive,” I muttered, scooping up the parchments in front of him as I stood. “Killing you here would be a mercy. Instead, I’m going to let you stew in the consequences of your actions by taking what you value most.”
I turned to Albanth, who had been fearfully observing from his seat on the other side of the table. “Seeing as you’ve witnessed everything here today, send a message to the Council stating that, for betraying his kingdom and perjury against the Triunion, Trodius Flamesworth and the rest of Flamesworth House will be stripped of their titles of nobility.”
“No! You hab no wight!” Trodius screamed thickly, his charred tongue struggling to form words.
“I believe I have every right, and the Council will surely agree once they find out you were planning on lying to them in order to keep soldiers here for yourself,” I replied coldly, waving the papers in my hand.
Trodius scrambled towards me, tripping over his unconscious investor before desperately launching a ball of fire at the papers in my hand. I waved the spell away before it could fully form.
“Add attempted assault on a representative of the Council,” I said to Albanth.
“Y-you ca’t do dis!” he yelled, rushing to me and clinging to my feet. “The Fwameswoth house—”
“Will be nothing, Trodius. Just another commoner’s surname,” I finished. “The legacy on which you prided yourself, that you tried so hard to raise, going as far as to abandon your own daughter, will crumble to dust, and you will have been the cause of the Flamesworth family’s downfall.”
I turned my attention back to Albanth. “I believe you have a message to send? Unless you’re still considering Trodius’s proposal?”
“Of c-course not!” Albanth jumped up and took the parchments out of my hand. “I’ll get these to the Council, along with your message, with my fastest and most trustworthy messenger.”
“Also, get Captain Jesmiya and a few of her men in here to round these gentlemen up,” I added, waving the captain off.
Behind me, Trodius lay on the ground, glaring daggers up at me. The patriarch of the Flamesworth house, who had been the pinnacle of nobility and pride, had been reduced to a trembling sack of bones.
“Like I said, killing you here would be a mercy.” I stepped out of the tent, taking one last glance back. “I hope you live a long life, and are reminded of me every time your deformed tongue slurs out a broken word.”
Sylvie and I stood atop the familiar cliff overlooking the Wall. From this high up, the remnants of the battle could barely be seen under the blanket of night, and the fortress seemed to be peaceful.
I knew all too well that the Wall was in a flurry of activity: mending the broken, feeding the weak, burning the dead—but I pushed down the emotions that threatened to overflow again.
It was so much easier to embrace the comforting emptiness that numbed my emotions—both good and bad.
“Ellie is with your mother right now. They’re going to cremate him,” my bond said, her quiet voice almost lost amidst the howling winds.
Her words reopened a thousand small wounds through which leaked thoughts and emotions I had desperately tried to avoid. I saw my weeping sister, my mother kneeling, bloody fingers clawing at the ground… I felt the pain my bond had felt as my mother’s narrowed eyes burned with accusation and resentment. Would she have looked at me like that as well, had I been there?
“It’s best that I give them some privacy,” I said, placing a gentle hand on Sylvie’s head.
Sylvie turned to me, her large yellow eyes wrinkled in concern. “Arthur…”
“I’m fine, really,” I said in a level, emotionless voice. “It’s better this way.”
My bond’s expression dimmed and I could tell she could feel the void within me, siphoning away her own frustrations and concerns.
This was what I did in the past, as Grey. I knew that suppressing my emotions and locking them away wasn’t healthy, but I had no choice.
I had no confidence in being able to handle what I was trying so hard not to feel. I knew that doing this was burying a wasting disease deep inside me, but I just needed it to hold myself together until I finished this war. After this was all over, I would be able to face my mother, but for now, I couldn’t bear looking at her or my sister’s faces.
Rinia’s words came suddenly to mind: ‘Do not fall back to your old ways. You know best that the deeper you go into that pit, the harder it will be to climb back out.’ I shook away the thoughts. The old woman had left me with many omens, but what good had they done?
Looking at my worried bond, I shielded my thoughts. I didn’t want her to know—I didn’t want anyone to know—that I was beginning to sincerely consider Agrona’s deal.
“Let’s go, Sylv.”
229
Above Limitations
“Hey. It’s me, Grey. Just thought I’d try this phone again. Anyway, the King’s Crown Competition is starting in our city and Lady Vera already got me a spot to compete. Finally participating in the official competition really makes it feel… well, it feels real now, I guess.
“Did you know that Jimmy Low—you know, that cocky overweight guy in our class with the lisp—that Jimmy Low is a contestant too? When Lady Vera told me that, I thought of the time when you sold him that fake contraption that was supposed to help him lose weight while he sleeps. I bet he’s still mad about that.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I told Lady Vera to save a spot for you in her private viewing room. It’d be great if you could come by and watch me kick everyone’s asses… I—um—I miss you, Nico. I don’t know what’s happening with you, but just know that you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you.
“You know where to reach me. Hope to hear from you soon, man.” I ended the call after hearing the monotonous confirmation that my message had been sent and let out a defeated sigh.
“Damn it, Nico. What the hell are you up to?” I leaned my head back against the reading chair and massaged my temples, trying to subdue the growing ache in my head.
The last time I had seen my friend, we had fought. It had been a few weeks after Cecilia was taken and my training was becoming more intense as the competition dates drew near.
I would train from dawn until sundown and then sneak out of Lady Vera’s manor in order to help Nico put up fliers or ask around local police departments for any information. This almost always resulted in us getting scolded or kicked out of their offices.
Tired and fed up with the lack of progress, I had suggested we call it a night. That’s when Nico blew up on me. He accused me of being callous and uncaring, insisting that I was prioritizing my training with Lady Vera over finding Cecilia.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore either. I had tried to reason with him before, pointing out that if the enforcers were really the ones who took her, then we were way out of our league. But Nico, stubborn as ever, couldn’t sit still knowing that his girlfriend was somewhere out there.
I didn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean I agreed with him. Needlessly insisting that two kids barely out of high school—military or not—could make a difference in an investigation that no one was investigating, was optimistic to the point of foolishness.
Nico had pushed for me to request the assistance of Lady Vera’s investigators, but I knew she’d be upset to find out I’d been out searching the streets with Nico night
after night. She’d cautioned me against taking risks; it wasn’t unheard of for competitors in the King’s Crown to be kidnapped and ransomed back to their families, or even to disappear. Lady Vera would be unlikely to help if she knew I was putting myself in danger.
That was the last straw for Nico, apparently, and he had stormed away. That was also the last time I had heard from him.
I did the right thing, I assured myself, sinking back further into the chair. Right now, winning the competition is most important. The city tournament shouldn’t pose much trouble and I’m fairly confident even for the district tournament.
Even if I wouldn’t become king immediately after I won the entire King’s Crown competition, I’d still have influence. My two biggest goals were to get to the bottom of Headmaster Wilbeck’s murder and to find and protect Cecilia so she and Nico could go live a happy, simple life together. Despite Nico’s urgency, I knew that, if the enforcers had taken her, Cecilia wouldn’t be harmed—she was too valuable an asset to kill.
That’s why I have to win. Just a few months… Once I become king, I can make everything right.
“Cadet Grey…” a soft voice said nearby. My eyes flickered open, my vision still blurry with sleep. It was only when I felt someone touch my shoulder that I snapped awake. My instincts and training kicked in, and by the time I was fully aware of my surroundings, the maid was sitting in the seat that I had fallen asleep in and I was leaning over her, my right hand pressed against her throat.
“I’m sorry!” I quickly let the maid go, helping her back to her feet.
“No… my apologies, Cadet Grey,” the maid said, her face flushed as she dipped into a low bow. “Lady Vera had informed me not to touch you when you were sleeping. I… I forgot.”
She then gestured to the training uniform that she had laid out neatly on my unused bed. “Lady Vera has instructed me to inform you that today’s lessons are cancelled due to the upcoming tournament. Instead, you will be sparring with the other candidates sponsored by Lady Vera’s family.”
