The man showed surprise for a moment, before a sardonic smile appeared on his face.
“So Father Gennadi told you about me did he?” Damir smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. But it does infuriate me, when trash like you, trash that looks down on people, says my name like that. I think adding one more dead noble to my kill count won’t be too hard.”
Craeft moved closer to his cousin as he tried to warn him. He could see the lightning built up along the edges of Damir’s feet, and though he may have hated his cousin, he didn’t want him dead.
It was clear what Damir was about to do.
“Just try me you-“ Cenric let out a cry of surprise as Craeft pushed him out of the way. He looked enraged for a moment, but Craeft couldn’t see much more as he once again felt the bite of the man’s sword, a slash across his chest causing his blood to spill.
He collapsed to the ground, unable to stand as the he went numb and the world began to go black around him, darkness taking him.
The last thing he saw was Sir Finguine with a furious expression on his face before he fell into oblivion.
Chapter Ten
Looking down at his blood relative, Cenric felt a niggle of guilt swell in his chest. Craeft’s form was so still as he lay on the bed, only the rise and fall of his chest indicating that he was still alive, a bright red scar plastered across it like a statement against Cenric. He laid in a hospital bed, the triage having been dismantled with less and less people coming in, and the bright white light from the enchanted flames above them made Craeft look all the paler.
‘Not a real Proudhill are you?’
The memory was like a cut into him like the blade did to Craeft, the guilt bleeding out of him just like his cousin had bled out onto the ground. It hurt to remember it, and hurt his pride to admit it, but he had been wrong when he had judged his relative back then. His actions, protecting a member of his family, one that had treated him like garbage back at the academy, had proved him worthy of being a real member of the Proudhill family.
Yet as he thought that, all the memories of the time he had tormented his relative filled his mind.
All the little incidences at the academy added up, and it pained him to remember them. All the times he had derided his relative, whether it be for his family or his heritage. All the times he had scorned him, spreading his reputation as a penniless bastard child around. All the ways he had degraded him for the six months he knew him, without even getting the chance to really know him.
It burned him like the element he controlled. A bit of smoke left his mouth as he sighed, running a hand through his hair as the frustration left him, if only slightly.
“A-are you okay?” His teammate Demora asked, the girl standing in the doorway, peering at him behind those glasses of hers with those bright blue eyes. Cenric wanted to say that he was, say that she should just leave him alone, but he didn’t want to be alone, not when he felt like a piece of trash. “I-if you need, I can go grab one of the nurses and we can get you something. I’m sure with the state your cousin is in, they’ll be able to-“
“Demora, come here.” The girl did so, seeming to be used to being commanded. He couldn’t tell whether it was due to the commanding officers having knocked any sense of resistance out of her or since he was the team leader, she followed him, or the way he spoke. She said his yelling reminded her of her mother one time, before her brother had brought her out of that situation. At the time, he had seen fit to ignore that and yell anyway, but now…after what Craeft did, it gave him time to reflect and realize a few things. “Would you say I’m a bad person?”
“I-I wouldn’t say that.” She started to stumble with her words, Cenric’s patience wearing as thin as her confidence was. “I-it’s just that you-“
“Just…please just spit it out.” Cenric said. “I’m not some child that needs to be coddled, despite what Tsarsko says about me.” A sardonic tone coated the last part, a bit of a joke played between the two squires about Sir Tsarsko’s attitude.
“Well…” She looked down at the floor, not daring to look at Cenric’s eyes. “You are very…brash. When we first started, and when Sir Tsarsko gave us time to talk to each other and get to know each other, you practically blew us off.” She clenched her fists, the tiny things scrunching up against her armor. “I just wanted to get some money for my brother. He spent his life taking care of me, and taking me away from my mother when she…” She hung her head. “And I thought, that by joining the knighthood, I’d be able to take care of him when he drew ill. I wasn’t an illegitimate child, my parents were married, and I wasn’t very poor. Not very wealthy, and we had a few hard calls, but my brother always made sure I had everything I needed to succeed. And you…you didn’t care.”
The last words were said with more force than Cenric had ever heard coming from the girl, the closest thing to yelling he thought she could achieve. “I was lesser because I wasn’t a noble, despite having made it to becoming a squire, just like you did. I may have not have been as powerful, but it gave you no right to treat me like you did, telling me who I couldn’t talk to. You reminded me of my mother and I hated her.”
Those words hit Cenric like a brick wall, the boy slouching slightly as he looked at her. The girl still had her eyes downcast on the floor, clearly angry, yet afraid to look at him. Afraid to look at her leader, her teammate, someone she was supposed to rely on.
And if this was how she felt about him, someone he cared a little about, then how badly must his relative feel about what he did to him?
The feeling of being punched in the gut didn’t leave him, and Cenric felt worse when he saw Fedor leaning in the door. The teen was slick, and the Proudhill had always hated him for trying to reign control of the team away from him, but seeing and hearing how Demora felt about him…it made him seem like Fedor had been in the right, as much as he hated to admit it.
“She’s right y’know.” The brunette said, his arms crossed against his chest. “When I told you of my family’s military history, you blew me off. The Victorovich family has served in the empire’s military since the very beginning, when Ascea was just the name of another city-state. And since then, we have served as hunters, knights, and soldiers in the Ascean Empire, fighting off its enemies with blood, sweat, and tears. But because you had the privilege of being born a noble, you felt you were better than me.”
Cenric clenched his fists as Fedor laid into him. He couldn’t refute those claims, he couldn’t refute any of them because he knew them to be true. And that made them all the more painful to hear coming out of his teammate’s mouth.
“And if that wasn’t enough, you walked around like you were Miion’s gift to the world.” Fedor shook his head. “Y’know, your cousin paid the price for that.” It felt like the air rushed out of his lung’s as Cenric heard that. It was a low blow, but that blow rung true and it made it all the more painful to hear those words from his teammate. “You sauntered up to that criminal scum like you could take him, without knowing any of his abilities, and look what happened.” He pointed at Craeft, his form simply breathing as he laid there on the bed, completely silent. “If the situation had been different that would have been us.”
To hear what his teammate’s thought of him left him reeling. He had known that Fedor didn’t like him, but he had thought it was because he wasn’t the one leading. Surely, that should have been the case since he came from a military family.
He would of course, wish to be in charge.
But that hadn’t been the case.
It had been his attitude that had gotten them into this mess, with his teammates hating his guts. Sure, they had stood up to protect him back at camp when he fought Craeft, but looking back on it, it seemed less like because they thought of him as a friend, and more like just backing up their squad mate.
Like it was their duty to help him, and not something they wanted to actually do.
“Both of you, I’m only going to say this
one time, and only one time,” The words tasted like ash in his mouth as he struggled to push them out. They caught in his throat, his body trying to hold it back but he forced it out. “I’m sorry.”
The room was silent for a moment before Fedor raised an eyebrow at him.
“Really?” Fedor asked. “You’re not just saying this because we told you how we really felt about you? This isn’t some plan of yours to use against us or anything?”
“No,” Cenric said through gritted teeth. Did they seriously think that low of him? Oh, who was he kidding, of course they did. “It isn’t some plan. I said that I am sorry and I meant it.” By Miion that word hurt. “I should have been a better team leader and you,” He fell silent for a moment as he looked at his cousin. “you were right Fedor. My arrogance is why we’re in this situation, and it’s why I need to apologize to my…relative, for it.”
Fedor nodded, his posture slightly more relaxed around him. He had never noticed how stiff he was, as if he was expecting to be attacked.
Considering how Fedor saw him, perhaps that wasn’t too far of a stretch, and didn’t that make it all the more painful?
“It’s good that you recognize it, y’know.” Fedor tilted his head slightly, seeming to consider something about the situation. “Problem is, I don’t think he’s going to take it too well. I mean, you were pretty cruel to him back at the academy, and you weren’t exactly the kindest guy to him when you saw him again. If I remember correctly, you said some things about his mother that I would have stabbed you for if you said those things to me.”
“Don’t you think I know that?!” Cenric growled out, fire bursting into his hands as his magic flared for a moment, his anger causing it to burn bright. He looked down at his hands for a moment, shame filling him at his loss of control before he put his hands on the rails of Craeft’s bed, watching his relative’s chest slowly rise and fall with each breath.
“I know it’s going to be hard, but I am not some punk. I don’t care how hard it is, I’ll do it regardless.” Cenric admitted. “I just…I just don’t know how to handle all of…” He spread his arms wide. “All of this.”
“We’re your teammates, y’know.” Fedor laid a hand on Cenric’s shoulder. “I know you like to act like you can take on the whole world by yourself, but we’ll be there behind you, every step of the way. Even though you may have acted like an ass, a really big one-“
“I get it.” Cenric ground out.
“Even then, I still would have stood with you. You’re my comrade Cenric and, well, I would say we are friends, even if you let your temper get the best of you sometimes. Besides, you saved me during the Lusus invasion, and I kept those creatures from flanking us with my transfiguration magic and my swerdan.” Fedor summoned his swerdan. It was an alabaster war hammer, with a pitch-black head and a white jewel sticking out of the bottom of the grip. It cratered skulls quite easily during the fight with those freaks of nature, and he was sure it could do so again. “We risked our lives together, and I know that, even as much of a jerk as you usually are, you’d have done the same.”
“B-besides, even if he doesn’t forgive you, we’ll always be by your side. Together to the end, no matter what.” She smiled, holding up the bright blue pendant she had made for all of them. It was a small circular thing, made of some type of seashells with a blue rock in the middle. He had thought about ditching the thing when she had first given it to him, when they had joined up in a squad. Instead, he had put it into his pocket and forgot about it. He pulled his matching pendant out, as did Fedor. “As long as we have these, we’ll always have that l-little bit of each other with us…or at least that was what my brother said when he taught me how to make these.”
“Neat little things, y’know.” Fedor looked down at his own pendant. “I’ll keep it on me when I become a knight, and even when I become a knight master, just like my grandfather. I’m going to make them all proud.”
He ran his thumb over the small piece of jewelry. Cheaply made, put together with nothing but a piece of string, some shells, and a rock. He was used to seeing jewelry that was worth enough to buy a small home, but he felt nothing for those when he compared it to this little thing. Being connected forever to his friends…the thought of that felt nice. It made his heart warm up, and he felt a small smile crawl onto his face as he pocketed the piece of jewelry.
“Thanks Demora.” Cenric said. “Honestly, I’m glad the both of you are on my team. If it wasn’t for the either of you, I would’ve died in the first Lusus invasion. And even if Fedor is a bit of a dick sometimes,” The aforementioned squire rolled his eyes at the insult, “I don’t think I’d rather have anyone else by my side then you guys.”
He looked towards Craeft. “Can you both leave me alone for a bit. I just…I just need time to think.” Cenric said with a sense of finality.
“If you need us, you’ll know where to find us.” Fedor said before he departed, his footfalls clanging down the hallway of the hospital as his armored boots met the floor. Demora took a moment to look at Cenric before she nodded and departed as well.
Demora took one last look back at Cenric, the teen muttering a quick “thank you” to her under his breath as he heard their footsteps depart. He was left alone with his cousin, and more importantly, alone with his thoughts.
He would have to bear the brunt of his past actions once his relative woke up.
Cenric was not looking forward to it but he would not shy away from it.
He was a Proudhill, one of noble blood, and Proudhill’s did not run away from such things.
Chapter Eleven
Craeft opened his eyes, wincing as the bright white lanterns that illuminated the room beamed down on him, causing his eyes to close shut for a brief moment as they adapted. He felt the cushions underneath the bed, the soft texture being a welcome respite from the uncomfortable sleeping bags he had slept in in the triage, and made to push himself up before a sharp pain resonated from his chest. He looked down, seeing the bright red scar stretching across his torso.
A reminder of the sword that had carved deeply into him, leaving him bleeding out onto the ground.
“So you’re finally awake.” He turned towards the source of the voice, standing next to his bed. His face still had that annoying cockiness and swagger to it, but his eyes told a different story, one Craeft couldn’t quite decipher. “Took you long enough.”
“Have you come to gloat?” Craeft forced himself up, gritting his teeth as he felt a brief spurt of agony in his chest. “Because I’m not really in the mood to hear it.”
Cenric was quiet for a moment, the slight grin on his face slowly falling off it and shifting into a frown, his eyes looking downward at the floor. He seemed frustrated, but Craeft found it odd that the frustration didn’t seemed to be aimed at him for one. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” Craeft asked, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.
“I said I’m sorry.” Cenric said, his hands on the rails of Craeft’s bed, his knuckles turning white from the intense grip. “After all the times I treated you like trash, and all the times I told you that you were worthless, a nobody, a…a fake Proudhill.” The words looked like they were painful for Cenric, his gaze becoming more and more angry, not at Craeft, but at himself. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry.”
“You’re…you’re sorry?” Craeft asked. “Cenric, after all the crap you put me through, after what you said about my mother and all the times you belittled me in the academy, you think a simple sorry is going to fix everything between us?” Incredulity colored his tone. “No, an apology won’t fix anything you did, because you aren’t sorry. You knew what you were saying and what you were doing to me, but you didn’t care because I wasn’t a Proudhill to you. I wasn’t your cousin, your aunt’s son. No, I was your bastard relative, the cast out that the family didn’t want.”
“I-“ Cenric started to say, before Craeft interrupted him. The teen was used to being silenced or criticized back in the A
cademy, and now, with it just being him and his cousin, he refused to hold back. Not that he believed he could stop himself when he could finally vent how he felt about him.
“I always saw you as my cousin. I always wanted to be a part of your life, to get to know the part of the family that I never had. Do you think I want to be a worthless bastard? To have to know that my birth father was some scumbag who ditched my mom before the engagement could be finished? To have my grandfather reject me like I was nothing?” Craeft’s eyes were getting watery, and he wiped them on his arm. He refused to cry in front of Cenric, not since the first time back at the academy.
“I hate it. I’ve despised it for years. I get to see the nobles with their money and fortune and fancy houses, and know that it could’ve been me but it wasn’t. Instead, I’m looked down on as a failure for something I couldn’t even choose.” Craeft said. “My future was stolen from me before I was even born, just because my mother had the audacity to conceive the child of the man she was supposed to marry in the first place.”
“It doesn’t work that way idiot.” Cenric growled out. He clearly did not like being talked to that way, but Craeft didn’t really care at the moment. “When she agreed to marry Grimwold Cantrell she was supposed to-“
“I know all about that arranged marriage. My mother may try to leave me out of the things that happened in her past, but she still slips up. They were supposed to be wed when the moon was at its highest and consummate it then, but Grimwold laid with her two weeks before they were supposed to be wed, then disappeared.” Craeft snapped his fingers for emphasis. “Gone, like no one had ever seen him. And so my mother ended up in disgrace since the Cantrell’s had the king’s ear, and I was declared a bastard once the pregnancy was confirmed, with my mother being kicked out of the family once she refused to…get rid of me.”
Squire Page 11
