This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

REMEDIAL MAGIC: STEP BY ACHING STEP

First edition. October 7, 2022.

Copyright © 2022 Nathan Gregg.

Written by Nathan Gregg.

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Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Afterword

Chapter 1

NADRINA COULDN’T TAKE the suspense anymore. “Um, are you going to tell us Professor Aldric’s story yet?” she asked eagerly.

Headmaster Elmaris was still sitting backwards in his chair and staring at the ceiling. The rest of Nadrina’s class had all been waiting impatiently, but the man still hadn’t said a single word.

“Goodness,” he finally murmured, mostly to himself. “Where do I even start such a story? There’s honestly so much to be said. Your professor has had quite the adventurous life, after all. I wouldn’t want to ruin it by telling it poorly.”

“The beginning is usually a good place,” Alek commented dryly. Next to him, Volmar attempted and failed to hide a snicker.

“Just start wherever,” Codrin interjected, looking annoyed. “We’re burning daylight!”

Cira smacked Codrin over the head. “Shut it! The more you distract him, the longer it takes.” Codrin was clearly annoyed, but he strangely did as she instructed and closed his mouth. He’d become much tamer around Cira for a while now, Nadrina had noticed.

“If you need more time to get your thoughts straight,” Lilianna added from next to Nadrina, “we can probably wait for you to be ready. Would you be free —?” Her question cut off when Nadrina gave her best friend a look of shocked betrayal.

“... never mind. Please continue,” Liliana finished, sounding exasperated but looking amused.

“I think Mr. Carlisle made a good point, if a bit rudely put,” Headmaster Elmaris eventually said. He straightened, looking at all of them again. Nadrina’s leg started rapidly bouncing up and down against her will as her excitement took hold of her once again.

“Your professor was a... well, he was not always the man he is now. But what he started as in large part defined who he became. I admit, I was not always in the picture, but I’ve heard all the perspectives from those that were. I’ll start in his early days, back when he was not much older than any of you, and still a student of the Redan Magic Academy. That was the first real turning point of his life, after all.”

A very fond but also somehow very sad smile parted the headmaster’s lips. It was as if he’d just recalled something especially bitter-sweet.

“It is also, of course, the first time he met her...”

~~~

ALDRIC BLEARILY STARED up at the afternoon sky as he lay on his back, his head throbbing. He was having a hard time remembering where he was and why. He was in an open courtyard, probably one of the many in the Radan Magic Academy, and the ground at his back and beneath his arms was wet with recent rain. Laughter and cheering came from every direction around him, but none of the words shouted out made any sense to him. The distinct coppery flavor of blood filled his mouth, and the itching sensation on his upper lip told him that more was dripping down his face from his nose. That was probably bad.

Groggily, Aldric turned his head back and forth and found himself surrounded by teenagers, most no older than himself. Despite his current state, none of them looked worried or shocked. In fact, they looked ecstatic, as if Aldric’s pain was something to celebrate. Aldric also found a rock the size of his head laying only a few feet away from himself. The blood splattered on the front of it told Aldric where his busted mouth and bloody nose had come from.

Then Aldric turned his attention to directly in front of him, where a boy about Aldric’s age stood. He was tall and stockily built, with dirty brown hair and coal-black eyes that radiated both smug confidence and open malice for Aldric. Three more rocks hovered around him, lazily spinning in circles as if waiting for a signal. The boy’s lightly scraped and bruised face brought Aldric’s addled brain painfully back to the present.

“Hit him again, Gabin!”

“C’mon, he’s not out yet. Finish it!”

“Make it hurt!”

Right. Gabin. That guy.

Aldric shakily got to his feet and stared down his opponent, who was thankfully too busy basking in the attention and didn’t immediately attack. Aldric hazily recalled the opening moments of this fight. Gabin had openly challenged him in front of a crowd, knowing that Aldric couldn’t refuse if he didn’t want to be shamed any more than he already was. Aldric had talked the other boy into agreeing to only a fistfight, but Aldric had only gotten a few good punches in before Gabin had panicked and clubbed him in the head with a magically conjured rock.

It would have been too much to expect the boy to fight at least somewhat fairly. He couldn’t beat Aldric in a straight up slugfest, so he would use conjuration. Typical. All these nobles were the same. That none of the other noble kids in their rabid audience objected to the slight wasn’t surprising. Excluding one person, no one was on Aldric’s side in this gods forsaken city.

“Had enough then?” Gabin asked Aldric. He was relishing the attention and clearly wanted to earn himself some more adoration. “I got places to be today, Dengarius. No time to waste on trash like you.” Aldric’s family name fell like a vile curse from the boy’s lips. Too bad Aldric had no family pride to speak of.

If you’re busy, then why’d you chase me down after classes again, asshat? Aldric thought bitterly, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he asked, “I suppose, if you don’t have any problem using magic, then I can use it too, right?” He wiped at his split lip and still bleeding nose, coating his fingers in the sticky blood. Hopefully, the gesture looked casual and not planned.

Gabin laughed like Aldric had just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Yeah! Sure, whatever. What are you going to do to me with that pathetic mana pool of yours? The most you can hope for is that you can somehow bore me to death!”

Aldric was making a show of checking himself over, hoping the action disguised his efforts to inscribe the back of his left arm with bloody symbols. Aldric had yet to perfect what he was about to try. If he was honest, he wasn’t even close, and the last time he’d tried had left him badly injured. But it would be immensely satisfying to smack that smug smile off Gabin’s face. He just needed the right opening.

“Bore you to death, huh?” Aldric answered flippantly. He was almost done with the last rune. “Boring people are often the most bored, right? Don’t worry, shouldn’t take too long. If you really die to me though, just imagine what they’ll say about your family! The Volus family, a bunch of oversized rock-chuckers with skulls as thick as the granite they toss around.”

Despite their unified distaste for Aldric, that was enough to elicit a wave of quiet chuckles from their audience. It was also enough to set off Gabin instantly, just as Aldric had known it would.

Knowing what would come next, Aldric abruptly weaved to the side to dodge the first floating rock that Gabin had hurled at him. He’d predictably aimed for Aldric’s head again, the simpleton, and now Aldric had closed the distance by a few meters already. In his panic, Gabin again did what Aldric predicted by aiming for Aldric’s torso, his center of mass. It was what everyone did when they panicked, and Aldric easily darted to the side and around the projectile.

This would be the hard part, however. Aldric wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge the third throw from only three meters away. Instead, when Gabin sent his third and final rock, Aldric simply put his arms up in front of himself and bulled through the attack. The rock cracked audibly against his arms with a painful force that teetered him for a moment, but Aldric gritted his teeth and kept running. He was most of the way through the imbuement of the runes on his left arm. He just needed to get in close and—

Aldric abruptly slipped and fell, his face landing hard on the muddy ground as he slid to a stop in front of Gabin.

The impact made his vision flash white briefly before stars filled it moments later. Complete, shocked silence blanketed the courtyard before uproarious laughter replaced it. It didn’t take long for Aldric to figure out what had just happened. Gabin was an earth conjurer, after all. Shifting the ground beneath an opponent wasn’t a very hard spell. He could even cast it silently. Aldric had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his opponent. Gabin was a spoiled prick, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.

“What an adorably earnest try, Dengarius,” Gabin taunted, “But even determined screw ups are still screw ups.” Gabin’s boot came down on top of Aldric’s head and dug painfully into his hair as the boy twisted it back and forth. “Maybe, if you beg me, I’ll let you go without stomping your head flat. But it’s not like anyone would miss you, anyway.”

The audience surrounding him cheered for the stomping, predictably. Normally Aldric would have just let Gabin work out his anger issues and leave once he was done, but he was having a hard time breathing with his face in the mud and he couldn’t turn it up with Gabin’s foot on his head. Panicking from a lack of air, Aldric reflexively grabbed at Gabin’s ankle, but the useless struggle only made the crowd laugh harder. Seeing his only chance, Aldric did his best to focus his mana through the pain and humiliation while he maintained his grip.

“Come on, Dengarius. Where’d all your usual spunk go, huh? Going to see if daddy can get you out of this problem too? You know that’s the only reason they even let trash like you in here, right? Maybe I should just leave you as broken as your noble house. How does it feel to be pitied by the entire—?”

Aldric’s imbuing finally finished, and whatever taunts Gabin had left were cut off by his shrill cry. The boy flew like a rag doll, sent hurtling through the air by Aldric’s sudden and surprisingly strong toss. It scattered the unfortunate audience members in his trajectory like matchsticks as Gabin’s body plowed through them, all of them yelling in surprise and pain. Aldric let out his own pained whine as agony shot up his left arm from the spell’s backlash, but the commotion and his face being in the mud masked it from the others.

The rest of the onlookers all gawked at Aldric, universally bewildered. A few looked like they wanted to rush him themselves, but they had no way of knowing what he could do to them.

“He cheated! He can’t use magic like that! He’s got an enchantment on him or something!”

“Stupid sorcerers! All tricks and no skill!”

Aldric internally rolled his eyes at the irony of these people calling him a cheater, but this was bad. Aldric’s left arm was injured and useless. If they got brave and ganged up on him, he would be beaten savagely. Again.

“What is going on here? Get away from him!”

A sharp voice cut through the courtyard and immediately earned everyone’s attention. A pretty girl with long, blonde hair pulled back in a tail and piercing green eyes stormed into the center of the ring of bodies. She glared a challenge at everyone present, Aldric included. He, of course, recognized her, but he suddenly wished he’d just been mobbed. At least that wouldn’t take as long as one of Zasia Glory’s lectures.

“This ends. Right now. Everyone go about your day. There’s nothing to see here!”

Even those that had been planning to rush Aldric abruptly had better things to do as they all turned and fled. Every one of them was familiar with just what a prodigious conjurer Zasia was, and how protective she could be of Aldric. A group of Gabin’s usual cronies hauled his unconscious form off. Aldric had a moment to feel smug satisfaction at the sight just before Zasia turned her glare on him. With most everyone gone and no one else to take her anger out on, he became a prime target for her tongue lashing.

“So what was it this time, hm? What brilliant excuse do you have for getting into another fight this week? Are you a masochist? Do you just need someone in your life to beat you senseless constantly?”

“Love you too, Zee,” Aldric grunted as he struggled to his feet, which was made difficult with only one good arm. Zasia saw the pain in his face and her anger immediately flipped into concern. She got right up in space and scanned him from head to toe.

“Are you hurt? Where? What happened? How bad is—”

Aldric held up a hand in front of her face to forestall her storm of questions. As much as he appreciated her looking out for him constantly, her nagging only made his agony worse. He turned his back on her and walked over to the nearest tree a few meters away. Zasia followed him, staying quiet but still looking anxious, like she was ready to catch him at any moment if he toppled over.

Committing before he could hesitate, Aldric angled his body to the tree’s trunk, took a deep breath, and slammed his shoulder into the tree. There was a popping sound accompanied by the nauseating sensation of his shoulder joint snapping back into place. Zasia let out a sharp gasp of alarm that was drowned out by Aldric’s string of colorful curses. As quickly as the pain had come, however, it was quickly gone.

“I’m fine now,” Aldric grunted, but then Zasia grabbed his left arm and studied it critically. Aldric rolled his eyes in exasperation and waited for the inevitable tirade.

“I knew it! You’ve been using those runes again, haven’t you? I thought you said they didn’t work!”

“No, I said they didn’t work well. Gabin going for a short flight proves it. I just need to... work out some kinks.” Aldric experimentally windmilled his arm in slow circles as he spoke, making sure he could still move it properly.

Zasia looked like she wanted to argue that more, but her worry seemed to win out. For now. “You should still go to the academy healer,” she insisted.

“All she’ll do is get cross with me for wasting her time and then talk my ear off about her genius nephew again,” Aldric said dismissively. “I really am fine, Zee. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wouldn’t need to if you stopped acting like this,” Zasia countered. “Why do you feel the need to fight with every person who looks at you crooked?”

“What? He started it!” Aldric shot back, not liking how much he sounded like a child saying that. “He and his goons hunted me down after school ended again. They even waited until we were at the edge of the campus to jump me. What was I supposed to do, let them beat on me until they got bored and left?”

“If you knew they would come for you, then you should have told someone! A professor, one of the staff, me! You walked into their attack, and you know it. You know you can’t—!”

Zasia cut herself off before she stated what they both knew, but Aldric still scowled reflexively. Aldric was likely the weakest mage at this academy. He would be stupid to think he had any chance at all against anyone here in a fight with magic. It was a lesson he had learned the painful way many times before, for years now. And it had gotten no better.

Zasia realized she’d said too much and looked at Aldric with obvious pity in her eyes. It didn’t help Aldric’s mood. He couldn’t afford to go running to Zasia anytime he had a problem, even knowing that she would readily help him anytime he asked for it. Or even when he didn’t. No professor would help him, either, if only to spite his family. Namely, his father.

Zasia knew that Aldric was bullied, but even she didn’t know the full scope of it. Even after classes had ended for the day, Aldric needed to keep his head on a swivel just walking down the street to get home. It was why he walked home with Zasia on most days, not just because they were childhood friends. If she had known what he was really putting up with, it would compel her to do something about it, which would only call more attention to him and make the harassment worse.

For all her brilliance, Zasia still didn’t fully fathom just how little this world cared about Aldric and his family. Maybe it resulted from when they’d first met, still only young children and ignorant of how far apart they were in station from each other. If Zasia were any less stubborn, they likely would have been torn apart by her family long ago. She truly was the one bright spot in his life that drowned out the darker bits, even if she wasn’t always realistic about how the world worked.

“What are you suddenly grinning for? Do you find this funny?” Zasia asked, her frown reappearing.

“N-Nothing,” Aldric said, turning his back to her as his face heated. “It’s fine, Zee. Just let it go.”

“No, it’s not!” Zasia argued back. “You’re going to get into serious trouble one of these days. What happens when you fight someone with an actual influence in the school? You’ll be expelled for certain!”

“Not as long as my grades are passing,” Aldric countered. He knew that normally wouldn’t have been enough, but he was also pretty sure that his father had some sort of desperate deal with the school’s headmaster. Aldric couldn’t see any other reason for a pitiful mage like him to be allowed into the empire’s leading school of magic.

“It’s fine, Zee,” Aldric repeated a third time. He didn’t really have anything better to say, but knew that she would give up, eventually. It was the same argument they’d had over and over. Zasia seemed to realize it too, because she just crossed her arms and harrumphed, apparently conceding for now, but clearly not happy about it. She would no doubt bring it up again the moment Aldric got into more trouble. As the silence continued to stretch out, Aldric sighed and finally broke it.

“Thanks for stepping in,” he muttered while scratching at the back of his neck. “That could have been a lot worse. And while I’m at it, thanks for all the other times, too. If I haven’t said that already.”

Zasia eyed him critically for a moment before she smirked, playfully kicking his shin. “You’re welcome. It’s my job to pull you out of your own messes, apparently, and I’ve had lots of practice. If you really want to thank me, you’ll stay out of trouble.” She prodded him between the eyes repeatedly as she emphasized each word to him.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going straight home,” Aldric groaned as he smacked her hand away. “You might want to come with. They’ll likely try something else now that I embarrassed them. I don’t need my dad yelling at me for getting beaten up in the front yard of our own house.” Aldric adopted a nasally and mocking voice. “What would the neighbors think, you stupid child? Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?”

Zasia didn’t laugh. Her smirk slowly died as she eyed him with concern again. “Will everything be alright? At home, I mean. Do you want to stay with—?”

“Dad won’t do anything over this. He’ll just get cross and then forget about me. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Aldric winced inwardly as he inadvertently said his catch phrase for a fourth time. It was never really true, and it never made Zasia feel better.

Zasia opened her mouth to say something, likely to call him out on his lie, but a girl’s voice interrupted them before she could say anything else.

“Excuse me. May I ask you a question?”

Aldric turned to address the new speaker, mildly annoyed that someone was bothering him yet again today. What the hell did they want from him now? Didn’t anybody know it was pointless to take something from someone who had nearly nothing?

Then he stopped and stared as he forgot how to breathe.

She was immaculate. It sounded stupid and cheesy in Aldric’s head, but “pretty” and “beautiful” fell far too short to describe her. Silver hair that hung in long, straight strands past her shoulders framed a perfectly lovely face, with two bright, almost iridescent violet eyes flanking a dainty nose that sat above naturally ruby lips. Her face seemed curiously blank of all emotion, not housing the usual disdain or mocking most nobles directed at Aldric. She was saying... something. Aldric wasn’t really sure what, as his ears also appeared to have stopped working along with his lungs. She was almost too pretty, to the point of being uncanny and intimidating.

Then, all at once, Aldric’s senses reasserted themselves. He took in her extravagant dress, lying underneath the school robes that marked her as a conjurer, and immediately remembered who he was dealing with. If she wasn’t a high-born noblewoman, then Aldric was the next emperor of Rhagia. And nobles were all the same.

“What?” Aldric asked briskly. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with more well-off noble brats. Even the really, really pretty ones. If the girl noticed his rudeness, she didn’t openly show it.

“May I inquire as to how you performed such a feat?” she asked in a polite yet oddly blank voice. She indicated the small patch of torn up grass where Aldric had tossed Gabin like a potato sack. “Your robes mark you as a sorcerer, correct? How is such a thing possible for you? Is it some sort of enchantment?”

Aldric just blinked at her. He half expected something more mocking or scathing to come out of her mouth, but she seemed genuinely curious. His usual witty snark abandoned him in the face of such sincerity as he struggled for a response.

“I, uh... it’s a secret,” Aldric answered lamely. It would take too long to explain. He really just wanted her to get to what she wanted so he could leave.

The girl tilted her head to the side at a forty-five-degree angle, looking like a puzzled animal. Aldric tried not to think about how cute it made her look.

“I see,” she said, though she clearly didn’t. She waited a few more beats, as if expecting Aldric to elaborate, but when he didn’t, she frowned in a way that immediately made Aldric feel bad. “That is quite vexing. I had hoped to learn this secret. I assure you I will not reveal such things easily. Is there no way I can convince you?”

Aldric was certain there were several things a pretty girl could say to him to make him do something stupid, so he decided to escape. Dealing with nobles was always a headache, particularly when they asked for favors. He began backing up slowly, like he was afraid the girl might jump him if he made any sudden movements. “Not really a secret if I just tell anyone who asks, right?” he babbled as he made to grab Zasia’s arm and retreat.

The girl’s frown lessened and eventually vanished as she considered his words. Then she nodded firmly. “This is a test of some sort, then? I suppose we must keep such secrets safe. Very well. Then I will endeavor to prove myself worthy of knowing. I am unaccustomed to sorcery or its practice, but I am confident I will master the concept. Please be patient with me.”

Aldric had no idea what she was talking about, but she at least didn’t seem mad at him, which was more progress than he usually made with nobles. The girl abruptly performed a textbook curtsy and dismissed herself, heading away from the courtyard and presumably to her home. She was gone as suddenly as she had arrived. It left Aldric gawking after her, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Zasia abruptly grabbed him by the collar and yanked him towards her, her face inches from his. Aldric would have felt embarrassed if she didn’t look so stricken with sudden terror. “How do you know her? How did someone like you even meet a girl like her? Please tell me you didn’t make her angry. I swear Aldric, if you insulted her in some way, your academy days really are over!”

“I don’t even know who the hell she is! Why do you always assume I did something wrong, huh?” Aldric shot back. “You think I’d forget someone as gorgeous as that? Not on your life.”

That somehow made Zasia even more upset. “T-That’s not the point, idiot!” she yelled as she shoved him backwards roughly. “I’m not kidding, Aldric. That girl really isn’t someone you should associate with. It could bring you a lot of trouble—”

Zasia quickly stopped talking and looked over Aldric’s shoulder with alarm. Aldric turned in confusion and found the same girl behind him a second time, holding out a piece of paper to him.

“Here you are,” the girl said simply, sticking the piece of paper to Aldric’s left shoulder. When the paper glowed as she imbued it with her mana, Aldric recognized it as spell paper, meant to hold a spell inscription to be activated later. Whatever spell was inscribed on this one immediately eased the persistent ache in his shoulder, flooding his body with a cooling wave of relief.

Written healing spells like that were extremely costly, but this girl had just foisted it upon him, like she was handing out her business card. It was shocking she would even have something like this on her person. Just how well off did she have to be to so casually carry around a fortune like that?

Before Aldric could even say anything, she curtsied again and abruptly left a second time, leaving Aldric to deal with the emotional whiplash caused by this bizarre girl. She was practically a force of nature, like frequent surprise spring showers. Never in his young life had Aldric ever met a noble quite like her. At least she was only weird and not a snob. That alone would have been unique enough to catch Aldric’s attention.

“So... who the hell was that?” Aldric asked Zasia. He was still staring after the girl as he asked, and Zasia pinched his side painfully to get his attention. She looked oddly grumpy as she glared at him, like he’d offended her somehow.

“That,” she answered crossly, “is Miraea Meltisse, of Great House Meltisse. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave her well enough alone.”

~~~

ZASIA’S MANOR WAS A few blocks away from Aldric’s, so she gave him one last stern warning to behave himself and a brief hug before she left him. Just as the sun was setting, Aldric trudged up the drive to his family’s estate, wishing once again that he lived anywhere but here.

“Estate” was probably being overly generous. “Shack” would have been closer. The entire place looked almost abandoned, despite still housing three people. It was appropriately gigantic, as all noble manors were, but that only made it harder to maintain. Wood paneling was chipped or coming off altogether. A few shingles were missing from the roof, and some sort of invasive species of vine was snaking its way across almost every inch of the property.

Aldric had to watch his step as he got closer to the house, making sure not to trip over loose cobblestones on the neglected pathway. The front garden looked like someone had tried to start a garden, gotten bored, and then quit halfway. What few shrubs there were had been cut back to proper size, but it only made the other bare half of the garden more obvious. This was clearly a place that should have been given up on ages ago, but some stubborn fool was still trying to clutch onto past glory. That described Aldric’s father perfectly.

Aldric didn’t bother to wait for any servants to open the front doors for him. He simply seized the rusted knocker and heaved on it himself, making sure to lift it slightly so it wouldn’t drag itself across the ground on loose, squealing hinges. What greeted him inside was a spartan entryway. They had sold off most of the furnishings in here to cover debts, and it made the sound of the front door shutting again uncomfortably loud as it echoed off the barren walls.

The only thing of note in here, or rather, the only person, was the maid. Nora was crouched down on the floor, a bucket of soapy water at her side and a rag in hand as she wiped away at the marble floor. That the estate was beyond saving was apparently lost on her. She might have been pretty at one point, but now she looked as tired and worn as the house itself, as if this depressing place had sapped her of any vitality or youth. She was likely in her mid-fifties, though Aldric had never bothered to ask her. It wasn’t like she cared about him, anyway. He was just another piece of furniture to her, except that he was one she couldn’t clean or fix.

“His lordship is in the dining hall,” she said to the floor in front of her, not bothering to acknowledge Aldric beyond that simple statement. Most servants in a noble household would have been severely punished for such rudeness, but Aldric was used to it. The only person this woman respected was his father. For some reason.

“Thanks,” Aldric said just as flippantly. He was unsurprised when she didn’t answer, instead continuing her endless crusade to pull this place out of the grave, one speck of dirt at a time. Leaving her to her delusions, Aldric walked down a side hall and stepped into the dining room.

This room was probably one of the most furnished in the estate, which wasn’t saying much. A massive mahogany table dominated the room. There was space enough for twelve to sit at it comfortably, but only three chairs remained, the others all repurposed elsewhere in the house. A large chandelier hung overhead, but the magical glycite crystals that had once adorned it had all been removed and sold off, leaving it strangely bare.

A marble fireplace sat at one end of the room, a fire already roaring within it. Displayed prominently above that was an enormous portrait of a man in his thirties, dressed resplendently in a luxurious tunic and waistcoat, with carefully coiffed brown hair and a thinly trimmed beard. Aldric snorted a chuckle when he saw it. The irony of such an image never stopped being funny to him.

The man meant to be represented in the painting sat in front of the fireplace at the head of the table. Lord Varon Dengarius had probably once looked like that, but the later years of his life had not been kind to his appearance. The carefully groomed hair from the picture was now a barely contained bed of grey chaos, full of grease to keep it slicked back and out of his face and eyes. More than a few wrinkles dominated his face, none of them laugh lines, and his beard now nearly touched his chest. He still wore the expensive clothing, but its threadbare appearance marked it as a desperate attempt to appear better off than they were.

The man’s steely grey eyes, the only thing Aldric had inherited from his father, snapped to his son as he entered the room. The look Aldric found in them was not warm or welcoming, as expected.

“Did you get into another fight, boy?” his father asked, clearly noting the scrapes and bruises marring Aldric’s features.

“It was after class,” Aldric answered dismissively. He walked past his father and into the kitchen, not bothering with a greeting. “None of the academy staff saw. I won, anyway.”

Aldric began digging through the food crates in the kitchen, all haphazardly stacked on top of each other and opened randomly. Some of it had clearly spoiled, but most were still in the realm of edible. Aldric grabbed a hunk of bread and some cheese, giving them an experimental squeeze to make sure they didn’t have any surprise critters for him inside.

“Fine,” Aldric’s father said from the other room. “But don’t do it again. Your incompetence will not hamper our return to fame, do you hear me? We have enough to worry about without you dragging our name through the mud every time you go outside. Don’t embarrass us any more than you already have.”

“Hard to lose what we never had, dad,” Aldric muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Where’s the wine?” Aldric answered, deliberately changing the subject.

His father growled in irritation but eventually answered, “Top shelf. It’s the last bottle for a while, so don’t guzzle it.”

Aldric grabbed a random glass he found, topped it nearly to the brim with the wine, then carried his bounty of bread and cheese back into the dining room. He made a point of grabbing the chair nearest his father and hauling it all the way to the other end of the table before seating himself on it. Aldric could see the anger seething behind the man’s eyes at his son’s disrespect, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Had this been several years ago, he could have, but Aldric was old enough now that his father couldn’t just hit him anymore. Not unless he wanted Aldric to hit him back.

Both father and son ate in silence for a long while, neither having any interest in the other. Aldric did his best to avoid the moldy bits in his bread. It wasn’t like it would kill him. Maybe he could go over to Zasia’s estate later and mooch off her. She always fed him when he visited, even when her parents looked at Aldric like he was a mutt their daughter had found in the streets.

“Go to your room and finish that.”

Aldric rolled his eyes. “I’m that hard to look at, huh?”

“I have a guest. Leave,” his father commanded.

Aldric blinked in confusion, then looked about the room. They were no longer alone, it seemed. A stranger stood near the entrance to the dining room, looking like they were waiting to be allowed inside. They were tall, extremely so, and wore a heavy brown cloak with the hood drawn down low over their face, hiding it in shadow. Aldric hadn’t even heard the figure enter the room, but the way the space under the cowl looked in Aldric’s direction made him distinctly uncomfortable.

“This again?” Aldric muttered, exasperated. Yet another shady character coming to talk to his father about gods knew what. This was the fourth time in as many days, too. Whatever machinations Aldric’s father had going on in the background to weasel his way back into society, Aldric wanted no part of it. He sighed and got up, taking his wine glass with him, and shouldered past the stranger.

“Try not to sell off the house or my inheritance in the name of ambition, pops,” Aldric called over his shoulder, just before the door was unceremoniously slammed shut behind him. He was half tempted to eavesdrop out of nothing but spite, but if Nora caught him at it, she’d no doubt rat on him to his father.

Aldric retreated upstairs to his room, avoiding the creakiest of the floorboards on his way by habit. On his way to his room, however, he passed by and then stopped in front of another room, one that was never used by anyone except him.

He hadn’t planned on it tonight, but he supposed it had been a while since he’d cleaned up in there. It was probably in a miserable state now, and it wasn’t like Nora or his father would do it. They avoided this room like the plague and hadn’t even cannibalized it to fund his father’s desperate schemes. Making sure Nora wasn’t around, Aldric quickly took out a small piece of metal that carried a rune script he’d prepared himself. He slipped it into the lock of the door, gave the metal a quick imbuing, and then smiled in satisfaction as the lock let out a soft click.

Wincing at the sound of the neglected metal hinges squealing loudly, Aldric slowly opened the door just enough to let himself in before closing it again. The room was pitch black, the night stars the only thing visible through a large window at the far end. Aldric felt around for the vanity he knew would be near the door and quickly located the lamp he’d left there the last time he’d visited. With another brief imbuing, the runes on the lamp lit up brightly and filled the room with light.

It was a large bedroom, clearly meant for a rich noblewoman to live in. The giant four-poster bed that lay just under the far window was decorated with a rose-colored blanket and more frilly pillows than Aldric thought was strictly necessary. Next to Aldric was a vanity with a mirror and a wardrobe. The other walls were a mix of neglected bookshelves and random nature paintings. In the center of the room was a small table with chairs, meant for entertaining close friends or relatives. Even the tea set on top of the table was made of elegant porcelain decorated with roses.

The entire room gave off the feel of a museum. Everything was oddly still and silent, like the room itself had slumbered for many years. A fine patina of dust coated just about everything, and Aldric sighed at the amount of work he would need to do. That’s what he got for slacking, he guessed.

Aldric turned back to the vanity, where a solitary picture frame sat. In it was a painting of a lovely young girl in her late teens. Aldric knew the artist had taken liberties when they’d made it, so it didn’t show the obvious signs of lingering weakness the girl had possessed from an early age. She had Aldric’s dark black hair and radiated a kind sort of warmth with her smile. Aldric thought the feeling might be his imagination, but he didn’t care. He’d take whatever warmth he could get. As far as Aldric knew, this was the only picture of her in the entire estate.

“Hey, Mom,” Aldric said simply to the empty room. “Sorry, I know I haven’t been around lately. Your fault for not sticking around long enough to teach me proper manners. Gods know your husband didn’t teach me.”

Aldric opened the wardrobe and removed the cleaning supplies he’d left there previously. Then, rolling up his sleeves, he got to work.

Ever since his mother had died during his childbirth, Aldric had taken the time to clean this room himself whenever he got the chance to. It was the only room in this house where Aldric felt at peace. Even his own room couldn’t hide him from his father, but no one ever thought to look for him here. It also gave Aldric a chance to think about something happy and loving when it came to his own family.

It sounded stupid, but it felt like he was keeping his mother’s memory alive by seeing to the cleaning of her living space like this. Perhaps the dilapidated estate was mostly a lost cause, but he could at least try to salvage the one good thing about it.

Aldric’s mind wandered as he set to his task. Not for the first time, he wondered just how different his life might be if his mother were alive. What would she think of him? Would she see him as a failure as well, a talentless mage with a miniscule mana pool that wasn’t worth the effort of birthing him? Aldric wasn’t sure, but he pretended she wouldn’t. It made him feel better, at least. He’d never asked his father or Nora anything about the woman specifically for that reason. His ignorance made it easier to imagine something happier than what he had now. It wasn’t like they’d tell him anything, anyway.

When his task was complete hours later, Aldric put all the supplies back into the wardrobe and observed his handiwork. The entire room was now spotless. Even the tea set was polished to a lustrous shine.

If only I could put forth this much effort at school, Aldric thought wryly. Even though he was done, however, he didn’t feel like leaving. After waffling back and forth over the decision, he sighed and gave in. He might as well. Maybe he’d have better dreams for it.

“Sorry, Mom,” Aldric said to the empty room. “I’m going to borrow this. I’ve had a rough day.”

After turning out the magic lamp on the vanity, Aldric trudged his way over to the bed and collapsed on it, not even bothering to remove his school robes or boots. The musky scent of the disused bed covers filled his nose, but it was still better than his own bed, alone in a house that hated him.

It wasn’t long before Aldric drifted off to sleep. No one would find him here, in his safe harbor from the constant storm that was his waking life.

Chapter 2

THE MOMENT ALDRIC AND Zasia had passed through the academy gates the next day, a staff member immediately spotted Aldric, hauled him off to the side by the collar of his robes and dragged him towards the administrative building. They didn’t even say a word as they did, and Aldric hadn’t expected them to. This was a near weekly occurrence, after all.

Aldric did his best to ignore the “I told you so” look on Zasia’s face as he was pulled along. Only five minutes later, after earning the stares and snickers of anyone who saw his involuntary escort, Aldric was seated in the headmaster’s office.

It was an appropriately ostentatious room for someone like the headmaster of the most prestigious magic academy in the empire, complete with an oversized desk, lavishly furnished seating area, and expensive wood paneling on every wall. A massive bookshelf filled with more volumes than Aldric could reliably count dominated the wall behind the desk. None of them sported any dust, so they must have been either well cleaned or well used. Pictures of old men and women lined every wall, likely former headmasters or alumni of note from the school. Every one of them gave Aldric stern and unyielding glares as he sat in an overstuffed chair, feet propped up on the headmaster’s desk, while wearing a scowl on his face.

The owner of the office chose that moment to step through the large double door entrance. The moment he laid eyes on Aldric, he let out a tired sigh. Aldric couldn’t remember the last time Headmaster Meltisse hadn’t looked worn out, even if he kept his thinning grey hair and beard trimmed and neat. Maybe it was just the look in his eyes that did it. The watery blue orbs drooped with obvious exhaustion, magnified by his oversized spectacles perched on a bulbous nose.

Or maybe that was just the effect seeing Aldric in his office yet again had on him.

He shuffled over to his desk and sat down heavily, giving Aldric a familiar look of disappointment. “Hello again, young master Dengarius. How novel to find you in my office. Again.”

Aldric didn’t answer, keeping his arms crossed and feet propped up in defiance. Headmaster Meltisse noticed but said nothing, apparently not in the mood to fight with him.

“If you think this is about Gabin Volus, then you’re wrong.”

Aldric did a double take in surprise. That was what these meetings usually were about. No way the headmaster didn’t already know about what had happened yesterday.

The old man let out yet another tired sigh as he saw Aldric’s confusion. “A reliable third party witness assured me that you were not the agressor. At least this time you did it at the far border of school property, so I could weasel out of any fallout from the Volus family, with some careful cajoling. I swear, I should create an ‘Aldric’ form and just have complaining parents fill it out in advance. It would save me from all these hysterical meetings you keep saddling me with.”

He removed his glasses to wipe his hand down his face in exasperation. “But I owe your father a favor still. I just wish you’d make it easier for me occasionally.”

Despite how he felt about a spoiled brat like Gabin and his family, Aldric felt a bit sorry for the old man. Headmaster Meltisse was often the one cleaning up behind the scenes for Aldric’s run-ins with nobility. Aldric still didn’t know why the old man hadn’t yet lost his patience with Aldric. Perhaps that favor owed to his father was worth more than he’d initially thought.

“With that said, it neatly leads into what I actually wanted to talk to you about,” the headmaster continued, replacing his glasses. He leaned forward and gave Aldric a hard look.

“Part of my agreement states that you may attend this academy for as long as you are passing all your classes. Which raises my next question: are you barely passing on purpose?”

Aldric just stared at him, feeling caught. He didn’t know how to answer that, or what the headmaster might do if he did.

“I’ll take your stunned silence as confirmation. If you’re curious, I only found out because of how you sporadically answer questions on monthly assessments.” Headmaster Meltisse reached into one of his desk drawers and pulled out a stack of papers that Aldric quickly identified as his own. “You finish them faster than anyone in your year, but your answers between assessments vary wildly. One month you get certain answers right, then the next you get the same answers wrong. Then you get them right again another month later. If you add up all the correct answers, you should be getting perfect scores on everything.”

Aldric clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had thought no one would look at his scores that closely. The headmaster fixed a stern gaze on Aldric as he continued to sit in silence.

“Your father asked me to see if there was any way to get your scores up, and yet you have purposely sabotaged yourself. Anything to say, young man?”

“What does it matter? I’m still passing, right? I just don’t care enough to put in all my effort,” Aldric answered quietly.

That was only partially true. It was also because he couldn’t afford to have every other student hate him more than they already did. They already believed him inferior to them in all ways. If he suddenly started scoring higher than them on everything, their pride would force them to do something even more unpleasant than normal.

The headmaster gave Aldric a look that said he didn’t believe him. “Your father was most displeased to hear of your testing shenanigans.” Aldric internally swore as he realized his father would give him an earful later. “I can’t fathom what you think you’re doing. You are already a pariah at this school. Are you determined to make things even worse for yourself? This is your chance to prove that you are worth something. Think of the future you could secure for yourself if you took advantage of your time here. Not everyone gets the opportunity to mingle with those who will probably be your future employers.”

Wow. Even the headmaster had no problems telling Aldric that he was a failure with no future right to his face. How delightfully honest.

“Who the hell would hire a Dengarius for anything?” Aldric asked quietly. “Much less a lowly sorcerer with a pitiful mana pool like me?”

The headmaster went quiet at that, a silence that infected the rest of the room for some time. Aldric was right. His family name was dirt in the capitol, and his pedigree would only get him laughed at. Aldric had learned long ago that it didn’t matter how hard he tried, or how much he railed against the injustice of the system he found himself in. People were going to measure him by their own standards, and those standards found Aldric lacking. Effort and good grades wouldn’t change that.

“That...” the headmaster started, then trailed off into silence. It seemed he couldn’t come up with a counterargument, so he just deflected instead. “It is surely better than whatever future you would have had otherwise. Succeeding here will at least give you some sort of chance. It may not be your first choice, but it will be something.”

Aldric just stared at the man. As much as he appreciated the headmaster had kept him enrolled despite his frequent troubles, he was no better than those that openly judged him. He didn’t owe this man an answer to such a bleak hope, acting like he was doing Aldric a favor by telling him to conform to society’s stupid expectations. If not for that favor he owed, the headmaster would have never allowed Aldric within a hundred miles of his academy.

A polite knock abruptly came from the double doors just before they opened. They were behind Aldric, so he didn’t see who it was while he was still staring at the headmaster and brooding.

“I apologize for interrupting,” came a bell-like voice from the entryway. Something about it tickled at Aldric’s memory. “The representative of the Leorda family has arrived, saying they were expecting to meet you today. Your secretary was out, so they asked if I could inform you. They’re being rather insistent...”

“Oh, damnation! They weren’t supposed to arrive until this afternoon!” Headmaster Meltisse quickly got up from his desk and rounded it, directing a look at Aldric. “Wait right there. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Aldric didn’t answer, glad to have a moment to himself and hoping the headmaster would take his time. He didn’t need to be repeatedly reminded of just how powerless he was.

“... your name is Aldric?”

Aldric flinched when he realized the original speaker hadn’t left yet. Annoyed at their question and preparing for another session of mockery and ridicule, Aldric turned around and was shocked to find the girl named Miraea there. She was still just as stunningly pretty as she had been yesterday, so all Aldric could really do was stare like a simpleton.

“... your name is Aldric?” Miraea asked again. She used the exact same tone of voice, like Aldric must have not heard her. Aldric had noticed it yesterday, but this girl had an oddly stilted way of talking, like she was reading a script someone else had written for her. She did her confused head-tilt thing again as she continued to stare blankly at him, clearly wondering why he was staying silent.

Right. Yesterday. Zasia had told him yesterday that this girl’s family name was Meltisse. Like the headmaster’s. Making this girl likely the headmaster’s daughter. Aldric felt like an idiot now for not putting two and two together. He was already in hot water from yesterday’s events, so he’d need to be extra careful with her and watch what he said.

“... your name is Aldric?” Miraea asked yet again, in a tone indistinguishable from the other two times. Aldric wasn’t sure her head could tilt any further to the side in confusion. Was she broken or something?

“Yeah, I am,” Aldric answered simply. Miraea’s head resumed its normal alignment again and nodded, accepting Aldric’s answer.

“Well met, Aldric Dengarius. My name is Miraea Meltisse. It is a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for not introducing myself the other day. That was quite rude of me.”

“It’s fine. My friend told me who you were.”

Miraea had been about to say something else, but paused with her mouth slightly parted. She looked caught flat-footed to Aldric, like she hadn’t expected that answer and didn’t know how to proceed.

Great, she was broken again. Deciding she needed a lifeline, Aldric floundered for something to say before he settled on, “So, uh, did you figure out that magic I did yet?” He immediately mentally kicked himself. Why was he bringing that up again?

For the first time since Aldric had met her, Miraea’s face dropped her blank expression and brightened into a full, genuine smile of excitement. Aldric could have sworn he felt his heartbeat trip over itself when she flashed perfectly white teeth at him.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, the sound of her voice echoing off the wooden walls. She seemed to notice her excessive volume and schooled herself again, resuming her practiced mask that most nobles carried. Zasia did it all the time. Aldric wished Miraea smiled more often. Then he shook his head hard to clear the random thought as she spoke again.

“May I explain?” she asked politely.

“Uh, sure?” Aldric answered awkwardly. He felt like he was a professor being asked to check his student’s work. Aldric almost laughed at the thought. Like he’d ever be allowed to be a professor of anything.

“You use your own blood as the base for the enchantment. That, in conjunction with only inscribing one of your arms, reduces the mana cost to yourself as well as the time it would take for you to imbue it properly.”

Miraea ticked off her points one by one on each of her fingers as she launched into her explanation. “That you could not do something similar to your legs, for example, is most likely due to the complexities of leg movements, something a smaller than average mana pool could not handle efficiently or effectively. Also, that you ended up seriously injuring yourself in the process of using it shows that your ability to control the enchantment is limited. That makes sense. Enforcers grow up their whole lives with bodies that are designed to withstand the use of their own mana. To think that you would be able to do the same as them in such a short time with the wrong type of body and without consequence is foolish.”

Aldric wondered if she’d just politely called him an idiot, but she continued before he could get even a single word in edge-wise.

“In conclusion, I believe you used an improvised sort of enforcement magic, despite you being a sorcerer. You used the runes you inscribed on your arm to act as a sort of replacement for the natural mana channels of a proper enforcer, allowing them to move your body for you. Your enormous increase in strength is likely due to the mana that infused your body beyond your normal physical capacity.”

Aldric just stared at her. Most of what she’d just said had been so rigidly formal and full of flowery speech that it sailed right over his head, but from the sound of it, she’d gotten the basics down. Miraea sat there expectantly, clearly waiting for his approval. Her face was still carefully blank, but she practically vibrated with pent up excitement.

“Um... yeah, I guess you got it,” Aldric finally said, floored. Even Zasia hadn’t immediately gotten it when he’d directly explained everything to her. Miraea laughed delightedly, a musical sound that made her actually sound her age for once.

“I knew it!” she cheered, beaming. “Oh, I can’t wait to learn more! Thank you!”

Aldric didn’t remember promising to teach her more, but the girl abruptly frowned while looking pensive. “I must admit that your methods of warping magic to your purposes are impressive, but that only makes it more perplexing as to why you are such a mediocre student.”

The blunt, flatly delivered insult was like a verbal slap to Aldric’s face. Miraea didn’t even seem to notice how incredibly rude that had sounded. Aldric felt his eye twitch with suppressed irritation as he tried to mellow out his tone. He couldn’t afford to get on this girl’s bad side, considering who her father was.

“Well, you know,” Aldric began, voice tight. “It’s not always about the grades. As long as the results are good, that’s all that matters, right?”

“Not really,” Miraea again answered with brutal directness. “Statistically speaking, those with higher grades are exponentially more likely to succeed than those with lower ones. I took the liberty of investigating your school record. You consistently get the absolute bare minimum grades in order to stay. When looking at it closely, it almost appears purposeful. Why you would be foolish enough to squander your future on purpose is beyond me, however.”

Nothing. Aldric was just going to say nothing, for fear of saying something he’d regret. He wasn’t even going to ask how the hell she’d gotten a hold of his school records. Aldric turned back around in his seat and resumed his previous study of the headmaster’s bookcase in front of him. Let the rich brat judge him all she liked. He wouldn’t be ruined even further just because of some snobby princess who wouldn’t know genuine talent if it bit her in the —

“That is to say nothing of your social and reputational problems,” Miraea continued to say, either oblivious or uncaring of the effect she was having on Aldric’s temper. “I believe you would be involved in far fewer confrontations if you could show yourself worthy of acceptance. If it is simply a matter of pride, I would caution you against such silly thoughts. It is your responsibility alone to ensure that you succeed. Pretending to be stupid achieves nothing —”

Aldric abruptly stood up as his temper broke free from his self-control. “Who the hell do you think are? You don’t get to come in here and judge someone you don’t even know!”

Miraea looked taken aback, like she couldn’t understand the cause of his anger. “I was merely speculating. Was anything I said wrong?”

The way she looked at Aldric as if he was the weird one for becoming upset was the last straw for him. Forgetting who exactly he was talking to, he marched up to the girl and shoved an accusing finger into her face. “Who I am or what I’m about is none of your business. How would you like me digging around in your life, huh?”

“You have not asked me anything about myself. Was there something specific you wanted to know?” Miraea asked, completely straight faced. If her attempt to appear innocent was meant to annoy him, it was working.

“I’m not interested in a spoiled little girl who’s had everything in her life handed to her. Come back and judge when you’ve actually worked for literally anything you have. Until then, your ignorant opinion means very little to me.”

For the first time, Aldric saw the blank faced girl’s brows pinch in the barest hint of anger. “Did you not just tell me not to make assumptions about others? I believe you should take your own advice before speaking to me in that manner.”

“I’ve got zero interest in you beyond you staying out of my business. I don’t care who your daddy is, Meltisse. Neither me nor anyone else owe you anything just because of whose nethers you popped out of!”

Miraea went wide eyed in scandalized shock. Aldric saw the doors open as the headmaster walked back in, but he didn’t care. He’d already dug his grave, so he might as well enjoy doing it.

“I’m not sure who you spoke to, dearest,” the old man began, “but I couldn’t find the Leorda fam —”

“How dare you?” Miraea yelled. It was the most honest expression of emotion he’d seen from her so far. “Perhaps I was wrong to think you were worth anything at all! Surely, such a brute isn’t worth all my time!”

“I don’t remember asking for your attention, princess!” Aldric shot back, yelling right along with her. “Leave me the hell alone!”

“Fine!”

“FINE!”

Both of them turned as one to the door and stormed out, right past the flabbergasted headmaster. “Miraea, what —” he tried to ask, but his daughter cut him off.

“Forget it!” she snapped, then turned on her heel and walked down the hall opposite Aldric with a final harrumph. She didn’t even pretend to try to look proper as she stormed away, her outer school robes and dress swishing angrily from her quick steps.

Aldric headed straight for his first class for the day, knowing that he was already late but ignoring the judgemental stares. It wasn’t until he’d gotten there and slammed his butt down into his chair that he had a moment to consider what he’d just done.

Aldric let his head collapse onto his desk and sighed as he came to terms with his actions. He’d just told off the heiress to one of the most influential families in the entire empire. In front of the headmaster. Who was also her father. All the anger slowly bled out of him, to be replaced with anxiety. Aldric had put his foot in his mouth more than once with nobles, but this was far worse. Zasia was going to kill him, if Headmaster Meltisse didn’t first.

The entire rest of Aldric’s day was spent in anxious waiting and paranoid imaginings. But as the end of the day got nearer and nearer, nothing overtly bad happened. By the end of his last class, Aldric was bewildered. No one dragged him out of the school, and no spells had fallen on his head to smite him for his insolence. He hadn’t even been summoned to the headmaster’s office again.

He wondered briefly if Miraea had forgiven him or something, but quickly dismissed that thought. Aldric had somehow taken the most placid girl he’d ever met and gotten her to scream in anger at him. There was no way he was getting away with that. Maybe they’d just tell his father about it? Or maybe they were just waiting to do something after school, where Aldric would be vulnerable and out in the open.

Sighing to relive himself of his pent-up nerves, Aldric decided to call in some backup and tell Zasia about what had happened. And accept the inevitable tongue lashing she would give him.

~~~

DESPITE HER UPBRINGING and against her better judgement, Miraea couldn’t help it. She was fascinated.

She shouldn’t have been. Aldric Dengarius was an uncouth and boorish societal reject. Even someone as socially oblivious as her could tell that he had a poor reputation bordering on universal hatred. Miraea, by contrast, was the heiress to one of the Four Great Houses of the Rhagian Empire. She had no reason to even know who he was, much less associate with him. Yet she had, even if in secret. She had gone out of her way to, in fact.

Even the first time she’d laid eyes on him had been enough to capture her attention. It had been the end of the school day at the beginning of their first year at the academy, just a bit before sunset. She’d been walking home as usual, passively taking in the sights and habitually ignoring the passerby who were ogling her. Out of nowhere, she heard the obvious sounds of a fight breaking out from down a nearby alley. Deciding that it was her civic duty to investigate and see if someone needed help, she had carefully gone down the tight alleyway and sneakily peaked in on what was going on, fully intending to fetch the guard as soon as she confirmed there was trouble.

It wasn’t like she had anything to fear if things got bad. She was, as others had described her, absurdly talented. She also possessed a rare form of conjuration magic that was likely to be immediately recognizable. It wasn’t suited to combat, but she could still do enough to reliably escape anyone foolish enough to attack someone of her station.

She needn’t have bothered considering it, however. None of the boys had eyes for the random girl that entered their alleyway, since they were all busy fighting desperately.

“What the hell is with this kid? He some kind of monster?”

“I thought he was just supposed to be some pitiful sorcerer!”

“Shut up! He’s just one guy! Circle him! Use spells if you have to, but don’t make it obvious!”

It looked like nothing more than a frantic mob of boys to Miraea at first, but the sea of bodies eventually parted and granted her first look of who she would later discover was Aldric.

The first thing she noticed was the blood that poured from his nose and mouth. He’d clearly been savagely beaten, but he propped himself up on shaky legs as he let loose a challenging shout at all those gathered around him.

“Fine! You want to fight, let’s fight! Who’s next? COME ON!”

Some of the crowd obliged him, dashing in to score cheap shots from behind, but he must have been expecting it. He immediately whipped around and slammed a fist into the face of one of the ambushers, flattening him to the pavement just in time to trip the other boy who’d charged as well. A third grabbed Aldric by the hair and delivered a knee to his stomach, but Aldric caught the leg and bowled both of them over onto the ground. Several more attackers all rushed in and dog-piled him. One boy that had held back from the scrum started chanting a spell. Spell craft was strictly prohibited within Redan except in emergencies, but no one would notice in this alleyway.

Without really knowing why, Miraea immediately cast a spell of her own, blinding the boy with a conjured ball of light right in front of his face. It didn’t seriously injure, but it captured the boy’s attention and interrupted his casting as he clutched at his eyes in pain.

An odd satisfaction bubbled up within Miraea at the sight, completely uncharacteristic for her. Honestly, she should have alerted the guards by now instead of gawking like a fool, but something kept her rooted to her hiding spot and watching the struggle. She spotted several more boys also trying to cast spells and gave them the same treatment, irritated at their unfairness.

No matter how many attacked him, Aldric didn’t give up. He fought tooth and nail, giving as good as he got to anyone foolish enough to get near him. Amazingly, the boys started retreating one by one, deciding the bruises they were getting weren’t worth whatever they’d attacked Aldric for. Within a few minutes, only Aldric, a smattering of unconscious bodies, and one cowering boy were left in the alley.

Aldric looked like death, but he shakily made his way over to the other boy who was frantically scrabbling backwards on his butt, like Aldric was some feral dog coming after him.

“Get away, Dengarius! You don’t want to mess with me!” the boy squealed pathetically. “My father will have your head if you so much as sneeze at me!”

Aldric stopped short, glaring daggers at the boy, but not advancing further. The boy realized his chance and scrambled to his feet, darting down the alley and out of sight.

“Your days are numbered, Dengarius!” the boy called back over his shoulder like a coward. “Trash doesn’t belong at the academy!”

Aldric didn’t answer or give chase. He simply watched the boy leave, his face a blank mask through all the blood. It was such a stark contrast to his earlier inner fire. He looked incredibly sad and frustrated in that moment, and the sight deeply bothered Miraea for some reason she couldn’t identify. It was everything she could do to not try to comfort him. That she’d been hiding this whole time would be hard to explain, after all.

After a few minutes of simply standing there, staring at the cobblestones with a downcast face, he eventually stooped down and began collecting papers that had been scattered across the ground. Then he stuffed them into a bag that looked to have been violently torn open. He had to hold the bag tight to his chest to avoid his belongings dropping out again.

Before Miraea could work up the nerve to stop hiding and help him, whistles rang out from down the alley and towards the street she’d come from, likely the city guard coming to investigate the commotion. Aldric heard them too and cursed, then hastily stuffed a few more papers into his bag and fled down a side path and out of sight. Miraea made to follow him, but she slipped on another piece of paper that Aldric had missed and stumbled. She looked down and picked it up, intending to return it to him, but he was already gone by the time she looked up again.

When the guard had shown up, they’d brought the boy that had been the last to retreat. He was telling them some sob story of how Aldric had mercilessly assaulted them for no reason, but Miraea had quickly stepped in and explained what she had seen. The guards had immediately recognized her and were quick to accept her side of the story and dismiss the charges against Aldric, already knowing the power her family name carried in the empire and not willing to call her a liar. The boy had scowled furiously before storming off in a huff.

The guards had offered to escort Miraea back to her estate, but she had declined. She had too many thoughts bouncing around inside her head and didn’t want any company distracting her. The image of Aldric fighting till the bitter end stuck with her for a long time after. He’d seemed indomitable, despite his disadvantage. Why hadn’t he run away? The last boy to flee had said something about the academy, so why hadn’t he used any magic? Surely he had better options than fighting in a back alley like a vagrant?

She’d been ready to just try to forget the whole thing. It wouldn’t do for her to get involved in a mess like this. Then she’d remembered that she still had the paper that Aldric hadn’t recovered from the alley. Taking it out and looking at it, Miraea gave it a brief once over. It looked like class notes, but they were very detailed in neat handwriting, covering topics Miraea didn’t remember hearing about in the academy.

She continued walking home while reading over them. At some point, however, she had stopped walking and simply stood in place, fascinated.

The ideas presented on this single piece of paper were incredible. It listed various ideas for improving cultivation methods for the flow of mana in a mage’s body, but they looked nothing like any theories Miraea had ever read on the subject. She could tell they might work, however, possibly even better than what her own tutors had taught her. There were no sources cited for any of this information, leading Miraea to believe that the boy himself had come up with these ideas on his own. How was that even possible?

Determined to know more about this mysterious boy that had arrested her attention, Miraea had returned home to ask her father about him. Surely he would know something as the headmaster of the academy. The answer she got was yet another surprise, however. He’d immediately panicked, asking why in the world she would want to know about someone like him. When she had explained the fight earlier that day, he’d sighed in exasperation before looking at her sternly.

“You are not to go anywhere near that boy, do you understand? He brings nothing but trouble to those around him.” Miraea still insisted to her father that Aldric had done nothing wrong, and while he eventually accepted her story, he still urged her to stay away from him.

Miraea had been raised since birth to be the future matriarch of her family. Such a strict upbringing ensured that Miraea was extremely loyal to her family and unflinchingly obedient. Normally, she would have followed such a command from her father to the letter. And yet, for the first time, Miraea deliberately disobeyed her father’s instructions. There was no way she was going to just forget about something so interesting just because it might be troublesome.

Miraea had only ever been taught formal etiquette for court, and she hadn’t even been allowed friends as a child unless they were associated with the family. Even then, the other Meltisse children were too terrified to become close to her or to treat her as anything other than their superior. Because of this, Miraea was painfully inept at casual conversation outside of formal gatherings, where the things she was expected to say were almost always the same.

Simply speaking with Aldric was out of the question if she wanted to avoid embarrassing herself and chasing him off. So, the most she could do was simply observe.

She had no classes with Aldric, but she had access to the academy’s administrative office, in a manner of speaking. No one there would ever have suspected her of anything dubious, and even if they had, they would be too terrified of the repercussions from the headmaster. It was almost too easy getting Aldric’s class schedule, and it allowed Miraea to keep a distant eye on him. This was likely extremely inappropriate behavior, but Miraea just couldn’t help herself.

And so she watched. Her findings were, again, fascinating.

Despite his poor attitude and general dislike of authority figures and propriety, he still went to class every day without fail. In contrast to his image as a troublemaker, he usually kept to himself. It was only when others accosted him, either verbally or physically, that he would defend himself. He also spent a great deal of time in the academy library, sometimes staying well into the late evening. So late, in fact, that Miraea would sometimes have to abandon her observation of him for fear of alerting her family to her tardiness.

Whenever he was there was also one of only two times while Miraea observed him that Aldric didn’t have a permanent scowl on his face, like he was spoiling for a fight. He would pour over every book he found there. Often the volumes would be stacked several levels high, and yet he would tear through every one of them with a bizarre fervor, writing things down in a massive binder of loose notes that he always carried with him.

Already knowing what brilliant insights those notes contained made her eager to find out more. She’d already been practicing the mana cultivating technique that she’d discovered in his previous notes, and with excellent results. It was indeed superior to what she’d been taught. Miraea wanted to ask more but couldn’t think of a way to do so without revealing she’d been essentially stalking him.

Miraea couldn’t think of a single other student at the academy who dedicated so much of their time to their studies. Not even Miraea herself. But looking at Aldric grades, it told a completely different story. He was barely passing, enough to make Miraea think she had somehow made a mistake or gotten the wrong test records. Outside of when he was at the library, Aldric rarely took part in lessons, even if he always showed up for them. None of the professors ever called on him, and he never joined in on group projects.

Miraea could relate. She’d learned most of what she currently knew about magic from her family’s tutors. The academy was just supplemental material to her. It was how she got away with skipping some of her classes to follow Aldric around like some sort of deviant.

The only other time he wasn’t bored or annoyed was with Zasia Glory, which would have been a friendship deserving of a study all on its own. The Glory house was not a Great House like Miraea’s, but it was a very wealthy and highly respected one, dating back almost to the founding of the empire hundreds of years ago. They were rumored to be quite favored by the empress and had even been offered the chance to become a Great House, though the others had pitched enough of a fit that it never ended up happening. Miraea didn’t know what the two young nobles could possibly have in common with each other, but from what she’d heard, Zasia Glory was not a girl to suffer fools. Perhaps she saw the same thing in him that Miraea did.

Miraea had thought her curiosity couldn’t climb any higher, but it turned out she was wrong. Only yesterday, Aldric had once again defied her expectations.

Miraea had been surprised at the anger and indignation that had surged within her when Gabin abandoned the agreed-upon rules and delivered a cheap shot. She, of course, had seen a few of Aldric’s brawls when other students came to pick on him, but even they hadn’t been so blatant in their cheating. She had nearly stepped forward and put a stop to everything herself before she noticed Aldric was struggling to his feet again, injured but still conscious.

Miraea was worried. She never liked that she always stayed on the sidelines while Aldric fought, but this was the moment that she always looked forward to the most, when Aldric would find some way to turn everything around and win the day. Even if she never knew what he’d do, or even how he did it, it was always immensely interesting.

Even Miraea’s high hopes couldn’t have been prepared for what happened next, however. Gabin Volus had been sent flying like he’d been tossed by a giant. Unlike in his other fights, however, Miraea immediately recognized what Aldric had done. She would bet everyone in the audience had as well. She just couldn’t explain it. How had a sorcerer used enforcement magic?

Clever enchantments were Aldric’s forte, but this was just too much. He was practically reinventing magic! It undid everything she’d ever been taught about how magic was supposed to work. Miraea’s fixation on Aldric transformed from an extreme curiosity into an obsessive need to understand. Even if she’d never fully get it, even if she’d never be able to perform such a feat herself, she needed to know how Aldric had done it.

“Excuse me. May I ask you a question?”

Miraea had abruptly talked to Aldric, unsure of when she’d even approached him. It was like her body had acted on her need to know without her brain’s permission. She’d opened with a standard polite inquest but didn’t know what she was supposed to say beyond that. What was standard protocol for asking for random information like this?

“What?” Aldric asked, and even Miraea could tell he sounded annoyed. It didn’t help that he and Zasia were now staring at her with dubious looks. Gods, had she already said something wrong? Barreling forward with the grace of a three-legged horse, Miraea continued.

“May I inquire as to how you performed such a feat? Your robes mark you as a sorcerer, correct? How is such a thing possible for you? Is it some sort of enchantment?”

Now Aldric looked somehow even more dubious. Oh no. Had she just asked for something obvious? Miraea was normally confident in her magical knowledge, but Aldric’s talent always made her feel like she knew absolutely nothing.

“I, uh... it’s a secret,” he finally answered.

Miraea felt like a moron. Of course, he wouldn’t reveal something so groundbreaking to a stranger just because she had asked! It was easy to forget since she’d learned everything she could about Aldric before today, but this boy had never actually met her before. What was she thinking, just waltzing up to him and asking like that? Her etiquette tutor would have lectured her for hours for such a gaffe.

Miraea had luckily remembered enough of her training to not make it obvious to the other two that she had just severely embarrassed herself. “I see,” was all she could voice into the awkward quiet.

The blank look Aldric gave her actually hurt a little. It made Miraea feel like a simpleton. This conversation had been going on for less than a minute, and she was already floundering.

“That is quite vexing. I had hoped to learn this secret. I assure you I will not reveal such things easily. Is there no way I can convince you?” she asked, desperate now.

“Not really a secret if I just tell anyone who asks, right?” he answered. He looked like he was moments from sprinting away in fright from the bizarre girl who had foolishly talked to him.

That made painful sense to Miraea, but she needed to know. To learn more about this strange boy that fascinated her so. He’d said it was a secret, and Miraea had no way of proving she was trustworthy enough to share in it. She needed to show she wasn’t a fool, asking for something she wouldn’t understand or appreciate.

Of course! She’d already mastered the mana cultivation technique from his notes, and that was without having seen it for herself. Now that she’d witnessed this new marvel in person, of course she could figure it out just based on context clues! Then he would have to acknowledge her and teach her even more!

“This is a test of some sort, then?” Miraea asked, certain of her correctness without him needing to answer. “I suppose such secrets must be kept safe. Very well. Then I will endeavor to prove myself worthy of knowing. I am unaccustomed to sorcery or its practice, but I am confident I will master the concept. Please be patient with me.”

Relieved that she had found a solution, Miraea curtsied politely and excused herself. She also briefly panicked when she realized she’d been rude, forcing her to go back to offer him a healing scroll, but that was only a minor setback. Miraea was quite confident she could figure out the secret. She had the highest academic scores in the academy, after all.

That night, she had poured over every book on enforcement magic she could find in the Meltisse family library, much to the confusion of her parents and servants. Miraea had never really been one to have long and intense study sessions, having been familiarized with most academic subjects from an early age. It was almost liberating, oddly, to be so engrossed in something. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this excited about anything.

Actually, it was during that study session that Miraea realized she rarely felt much of anything in her normal day-to-day life of school and family obligation. Her time watching Aldric was the only time she got emotional at all, whether that was excitement at his accomplishments, curiosity at his habits and discoveries, or anger and indignation at those that bullied him. Just one more thing that made him fascinating.

And so it was with great excitement that she had searched for Aldric the next day, eager to share her findings. Only to discover that her father had already called Aldric into his office.

Miraea had never been so frustrated. He was likely going to speak to Aldric about the fight yesterday, but Miraea had already informed him that Aldric wasn’t in the wrong. Many times, her father had considered expelling Aldric, but every time Miraea had asked to hear the entire story before convincing her father that Aldric couldn’t have been in the wrong. Perhaps she was taking advantage of how her father doted on her constantly, but he always ended up agreeing with her and forgoing Aldric’s punishments. She couldn’t do that if her father was hogging Aldric all to himself in his office, nor could she discover if her theory was correct.

Miraea’s desire to learn more warred with her upbringing, but in the end, she did something that surprised even herself.

“I apologize for interrupting, but the representative of the Leorda family has arrived, saying they were expecting to meet you today. Your secretary was out, so they asked if I could inform you. They’re being rather insistent...”

Miraea had lied to her own father. She was surprised she could even get the words out through her nerves. She’d never lied in her entire life, much less to her father. And she’d done it just to get a moment alone with Aldric. She might have wondered about that if she hadn’t already been so impatient.

“Well met, Aldric Dengarius. My name is Miraea Meltisse. It is a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for not introducing myself the other day. That was quite rude of me.”

Miraea had learned from her earlier blunder and made a show of learning Aldric’s name for the first time, just as she had planned. It also neatly covering up that she’d been following him around for months.

“It’s fine. My friend told me who you were.”

Miraea’s brain locked up as she realized her agonizing over this had been pointless. She’d spent an hour practicing her opening line, and it hadn’t even mattered! Aldric seemed to notice her distress and thankfully took pity on her, changing the subject.

“So, did you figure out that magic I did yet?” he asked.

“Yes!” she practically yelled, beaming. Then she saw the stunned look on Aldric’s face and berated herself internally, schooling her features again. She couldn’t let her nerves and excitement get the better of her and ruin her one chance! “May I explain?”

The moment Aldric acceded, Miraea launched into her findings. She quickly lost herself in the explanation and dropped her normally strict politeness without really meaning to. It felt so liberating to discuss magic theory so simply like this, with no pretext of politeness or manners. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had an honest and open discussion with someone who wasn’t one of her family members. Even then, it wasn’t often.

Silence filled the room as Miraea wrapped up her findings, anxiously awaiting a response. Aldric was just gaping at her, clearly at a loss for words. Miraea hoped that didn’t mean he was disappointed in her. Was her guess so off base that she’d stunned him into silence? She was tempted to tell him to hurry, but even she knew that would have been rude.

“Um... yeah, I guess you got it.”

That single sentence brought unquantifiable joy to Miraea. She had done it! He now knew that she was worthy to learn more.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed, once again forgetting herself in her excitement. “Oh, I can’t wait to learn more! Thank you!” High on the victory of having earned his approval, she voiced a question she had always had without thinking. “I must admit that your methods of warping magic to your purposes are impressive, but that only makes it more perplexing as to why you are such a mediocre student.”

Aldric’s face suddenly went rigid, like he was trying to suppress some sudden surge of emotion. Miraea could understand. She was just as excited as he was, if not more. They had so much to discuss!

“Well, you know,” Aldric said, voice tightly controlled. “It’s not always about the grades. As long as the results are good, that’s all that matters, right?”

“Not really,” Miraea countered. “Statistically speaking, those with higher grades are exponentially more likely to succeed than those with lower ones. I took the liberty of investigating your school record. You consistently get the absolute bare minimum grades in order to stay. When looking at it closely, it almost appears purposeful. Why you would be foolish enough to squander your future on purpose is beyond me, however.”

Strangely, Aldric turned back around in his seat and went silent, not acknowledging her point. How odd. Had what she said deserved such pensive thought? Miraea was flattered that she’d managed to render speechless someone who she thought of as brilliant. Perhaps he was impressed with her deduction skills? Or maybe he was waiting for her to provide more input?

“That is to say nothing of your social and reputational problems,” Miraea continued, deciding she could likely provide good advice to someone trying to deal with the treacherous pitfalls of noble life. “I believe you would be involved in far fewer confrontations if you could show yourself worthy of acceptance. If it is simply a matter of pride, I would caution you against such silly thoughts. It is your responsibility alone to ensure that you succeed. Pretending to be stupid achieves nothing —”

“Who the hell do you think are?” Aldric abruptly exploded. “You don’t get to come in here and judge someone you don’t even know!”

Miraea was shocked. Had he really interpreted it that way? She was admittedly unskilled at communicating her thoughts outside of formal settings, but still! That was a bit of an overreaction to honest advice.

“I was merely speculating. Was anything I said wrong?” Miraea asked, hoping to rectify whatever mistake she might have made. She’d hoped her reasonable tone would help calm him down, but he seemed to get even angrier as he shoved a finger rudely into her face.

“Who I am or what I’m about is none of your business. How would you like me digging around in your life, huh?”

That was a good point, she supposed. After all, she had violated his privacy in pursuit of learning all about him. It was only fair that he would ask the same of her. Eager to show she was cooperative, she simply answered, “You have not asked me anything about myself. Was there something specific you wanted to know?”

“I’m not interested in a spoiled little girl who’s had everything in her life handed to her,” he snarled. “Come back and judge me when you’ve actually worked for literally anything you have. Until then, your ignorant opinion means very little to me.”

All the sunny thoughts and rosy hope Miraea’s victory had instilled her with earlier abruptly vacated. To be told by someone she admired so much that her opinion was worth nothing... how could he say such a thing? And what did her heritage have to do with anything? He was a noble, too! Who was he to assume her spoiled?

“Did you not just tell me not to make assumptions about others?” Miraea asked, doing her best to ignore how hurtful his words had been as she spoke as calmly as possible. “I believe you should take your own advice before speaking to me in that manner.”

“I’ve got zero interest in you beyond you staying out of my business,” Aldric said, his voice rising. “I don’t care who your daddy is, Meltisse. Neither me nor anyone else owe you anything just because of whose nethers you popped out of!”

Miraea could scarcely believe such crass words had come out of this boy’s mouth, a boy that she had looked up to so much. How could she have been so utterly wrong about him? What had possessed him to be this way? No wonder the other students never left him alone if this was how he always was! What could Zasia Glory have possibly seen in him?

Miraea dimly registered the door opening, followed by her father’s voice, but she wasn’t listening.

“How dare you?” Miraea yelled, holding back tears. “Perhaps I was wrong to think you were worth anything at all! Surely, such a brute isn’t worth all my time!”

“I don’t remember asking for your attention, princess!” Aldric shot back, yelling right along with her. “Leave me the hell alone!”

“Fine!”

“FINE!”

Miraea turned and stormed out of the room, even yelling at her father when he tried to stop her. She needed to get away from this horrible boy before she acted out emotionally. Miraea had even left the school all together, determining that she was in no mood to attend classes she didn’t care for. She’d spent her carriage ride all the way home kicking the empty seat in front of her in frustration, imagining that it was Aldric’s annoying head. Gods, she’d never been this furious before! How could she have been so stupid as to find him fascinating on any level?

Thankfully, the carriage driver didn’t see fit to comment on the strange thumping sounds and angry grumblings that he’d no doubt heard coming from the cabin. His wide-eyed look of astonishment and trepidation when he’d opened the passenger door for her spoke volumes, however. Miraea rudely didn’t even acknowledge him, storming towards her estate and locking herself up in her room before diving onto her bed.

Stupid Aldric! Why did he have to say those things? Now Miraea couldn’t learn more interesting magic from him. The thought took her anger to new heights, realizing that the last few months of reconnaissance had been for nothing. And all because Aldric was being a big, stupid dummy!

Realizing she couldn’t just stay this angry, Miraea sat on the floor of her room and began cycling her mana, something she commonly practiced to hone her mana control abilities. She’d long ago mastered the technique she’d found in Aldric’s notes, but it at least helped her to calm down some. After about thirty minutes of nothing but cycling, she could get her thoughts in order again without flaring up in an indignant rage. Aldric may be pig-headed and rude, but Miraea still wanted to learn more. He might not just offer her the knowledge now, but Miraea wouldn’t give up, if only to spite him.

Miraea took in a deep breath, resolving herself. If Aldric wanted to be that way, that was just fine. She just wouldn’t be subtle about her “research” of him anymore.

Chapter 3

ALDRIC PRETENDED NOT to notice how much Miraea was staring at him from across the library table.

Normally, Aldric wouldn’t have minded capturing the attention of a pretty girl, but this kind was uncomfortable. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. Anytime he looked up at her, whether it was in the library today or on the school grounds, Miraea was looking at him with those intense violet eyes of hers. Even today, she’d plopped herself down at his table in the library like it was her gods given right to do so and simply stared at him.

Was this some sort of petty revenge for getting into an argument with her a month ago? She didn’t strike Aldric as the type to do that, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Oddly enough, he still hadn’t received the expected retribution for that incident. He hadn’t been expelled, reprimanded, or even so much as slapped on the wrist once this entire time. It was bizarre, but Aldric wasn’t complaining. If Miraea’s idea of punishing him was stalking him, then Aldric would take it. There were far worse things she could have done.

So far, the only bad thing to happen was that Zasia had yelled at him. Again. Aldric had told her what had happened, and after the prerequisite ten minutes of berating him up and down for getting involved with Miraea not even a day after she had instructed him not to, he’d asked her for advice. Maybe it was some sort of noble method of expressing displeasure that Aldric had never heard of or something. Zasia had been just as confused by Miraea’s behavior, however. So much so that she was currently sitting next to Aldric in the library, staring at Miraea as Miraea stared at Aldric.

The palpable tension itched at Aldric’s nerves, but he did his best to ignore it as he continued his own studies. So what if the strange girl wanted to hang out in the academy library after school hours just to stare at him? It wasn’t like there was a rule against it or something, and even if she did something, Zasia was here to help. Besides, Aldric had no desire to push his luck with Miraea any further than he already had. So Aldric continued reading his books and taking notes while ignoring everyone else around him.

“Why are you making notes inside your textbook margins?”

Both Aldric and Zasia visibly flinched at Miraea’s sudden question. She would occasionally ambush him with random comments on why he did something or what one of his notes meant. That she did it rarely only made it more startling when she finally did. Was she trying to study, too? Why did she need to hang around Aldric to do that?

“Because the book’s wrong,” Aldric eventually answered, not even bothering to look up. “It’s got the wrong answer to this question.”

“No, it’s not,” Miraea said in that infuriatingly blunt way of hers. “This book was written by Dravion Glory in the era of the third emperor of Rhagia. It would have been reviewed and studied by thousands of mages by now. Surely someone would have found an error before you.”

Aldric gritted his teeth as he wrangled with his frustration. He felt Zasia give him a subtle kick underneath their table from her seat next to him, clearly asking him not to make even more trouble. Aldric schooled himself and shoved down his instinctual sarcastic response.

“It’s not that the answer was written wrong. It’s that the problem itself is flawed,” Aldric answered simply before burying his nose in the book, hoping she’d drop it at that. She didn’t.

“I don’t understand. Explain,” Miraea practically commanded. Aldric looked up to glare at her, but she was doing her head-tilt of confusion again. It was still an unreasonably cute look to Aldric, and his anger fizzled out and died as he sighed. Well, if she was genuinely curious...

“This answer assumes that the passage it’s based on is correct,” he explained tiredly. “It’s not. Dravion made a bunch of assumptions, so it screws up the ultimate result. His math was wrong, basically.”

Miraea just fixed him with that unsettling, unblinking stare of hers that made Aldric think she was looking through him rather than at him. After a few seconds, she abruptly stood up and marched away, looking like a woman on a mission. Aldric wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or worried about that.

“Now look what you did!” Zasia hissed into his ear. “You’ve gone and made her angry!”

“How?” Aldric whispered back. “I answered her damn question. What did I do wrong now?”

“Just don’t engage her. You have no reason to —”

Both of them cut off their whispered argument when Miraea suddenly reappeared, carrying a clone of the textbook Aldric was reading from. She plopped back down at the table and leafed through it until she came upon the page Aldric was on, then started reading it diligently. When she didn’t immediately say anything, Aldric shrugged at Zasia before taking her advice and ignoring the girl, turning back to his own reading.

“It appears correct. Explain your reasoning,” Miraea demanded the moment Aldric had gotten back into his reading. Checking an impulse to growl, Aldric looked to Zasia, who was shaking her head minutely.

“... please, explain your reasoning. I don’t seem to understand it,” Miraea said, this time much more gently. Aldric looked back to find her normally impassive face looking a little embarrassed. Maybe she’d realized she’d been a bit too straightforward. Zasia still looked uncertain, but Aldric just sighed again. He’d never known a noble to admit when they were lost, after all. Maybe an example would even help with his own notes.

“Conjure up a spell really quick,” Aldric said before quickly adding, “And please make it something small and simple. This is the one room in the entire academy I actually like being in, and I’d rather you didn’t blow it up.”

Without even a moment of hesitation, Miraea immediately conjured up a spell in her palm, but it was unlike anything Aldric had ever seen before. It was a small orb of light, radiating bright and painful to look at directly. She placed her hand face up on the table in front of Aldric and Zasia, then looked at both of them expectantly. Despite how much it hurt his eyes, Aldric quickly peered at it closely, immediately fascinated. Zasia was right there with him, her earlier advice to not engage Miraea clearly forgotten.

“You really are a blood variant,” Zasia muttered in obvious awe. When Aldric gave her a confused look, she explained. “Blood variants are far more rare than typical variants, like summoners or illusionists. They inherit their skills from their family bloodline. The Meltisse family once specialized in a variant of conjuration that they called light magic.”

Aldric’s prior trepidation of dealing with Miraea fled, replaced by an all-consuming desire to learn more about a magic he’d never heard of or seen before. “How much mana did that cost you to cast?” he asked, his eagerness bleeding into his tone.

Miraea shook her head in uncertainty, likely confused by his sudden interest. “A fraction of a fraction.”

Aldric rolled his eyes. “Of course it did. These damn, overpowered —” Aldric forcefully halted his dark mutterings and continued. “Fine, fair enough. Now do it again, but this time, stuff as much mana as you can into it.”

Miraea looked at him blankly. “It would fill this entire room if I did that.”

“Pack it full of mana, but keep it the same size,” Aldric elaborated, motioning to her with a “hurry up” gesture.

It was actually comical watching Miraea’s face screw up in confusion at the request. She looked at her palm and studied it intently, clearly not sure what she was supposed to do. This was always the part where nobles would start questioning Aldric’s theories. Even Zasia had been skeptical when he’d shown her this. He was going to have to explain more.

The tiny ball of light in Miraea’s hands suddenly blazed, and Aldric immediately had to shut his eyes and turn away to stop himself from going blind. Based on the cry from Zasia, she’d been surprised by it too. Aldric could even feel a heat coming off the spell that prickled his skin like a sunburn.

“Okay, okay! Put it out!” Aldric shouted. The light and heat instantly vanished, and Aldric slowly opened his eyes and checked for any damages. Everything was as it had been. Not even the papers on the desk had been singed, and Miraea’s hand was unblemished. A woman wearing the academy’s staff robes came rushing around a line of bookcases, glaring death at the three of them.

“What in the name of all the gods do you think you are —?” Her outraged question died in her throat as she laid eyes on Miraea. She quickly schooled herself and resumed in a much more reasonable tone of voice. “Ahem... that is to say, please refrain from using magic within the library, Lady Meltisse. It disrupts the other students.”

“Apologies,” Miraea and Zasia both intoned, bowing their heads politely. The woman sniffed disdainfully but let the matter go, returning to wherever she had come from. Aldric wasn’t paying any attention to her, however. He was busy gawking at Miraea. Not because of her magic, which was already incredible, but because of her speed of mana circulation from a tiny light to a blazing sunbeam. That was an absurd level of mana control, something Aldric would only expect from Zasia. And that was what was suspicious.

Aldric suddenly grabbed the hand Miraea still held palm up on the table. The girl squeaked at the sudden contact, but Aldric ignored it.

“How the hell did you learn my mana cultivation technique?” he demanded. “And don’t lie to me. I’d recognize it anywhere.”

His mind spun with a flood of sudden, wild conspiracy theories. Aldric knew a girl this widely known would never take any sort of interest in the likes of him without reason. Was this some elaborate ploy to steal Aldric’s own techniques? Had the headmaster set all this up? To distract Aldric with a pretty face while he made off with the only thing Aldric could call his own?

Then his thoughts all crashed into each other and halted as he stared at Miraea. For the first time since he’d known her, she was blushing. Blushing tomato red, while staring wide-eyed at his hand holding hers. Her normally calm and controlled demeanor crumbled into an awkward, shy girl all at once. Aldric was struck with a sudden feeling of guilt and immediately released her hand, just in time for Zasia to cuff him over the back of the head.

“Don’t grab at the poor girl, idiot!” she reprimanded. She looked scared as she turned to Miraea. “I’m sorry, milady. He meant nothing by that. He just gets overexcited about magic sometimes and forgets himself. Please forgive him.”

Miraea was staring at her hand where Aldric had grabbed her, still wide-eyed and flushed. Zasia elbowed Aldric and forced him to mutter a reluctant apology.

“That... it is fine.” Miraea finally answered, though her cheeks were still pink. “I am simply unaccustomed to... to informal situations. I am not offended. And to answer your question, I... I have a confession to make.”

Miraea then told a story that sounded familiar to Aldric, one where she had watched him fighting off a group of boys in an alleyway. She’d apparently recovered one of his notes that had taught her his mana cultivation technique. Aldric was floored. How talented could one person be? She’d learned the entire technique from just one scrap of paper? It had taken Zasia months to figure it out, even with Aldric right there teaching it to her.

“Wait,” Zasia interrupted, her tone dangerous as she turned to Aldric. “They attacked you in the city?”

Aldric panicked and hastily waved away her concerns. “It’s fine, Zee. I whooped all of them. It was months ago, and they haven’t done it since,” he lied.

Zasia was obviously not convinced, but Aldric turned his attention back to Miraea before Zasia could interrogate him further. She was going to milk him for everything he knew about those boys later, he was sure of it. And likely make his situation worse.

“That really is remarkable, Miraea. I didn’t know you were that adept at magic. I’m impressed.” Then he scratched at his head awkwardly and said, “And it looks like I owe you a thank you for distracting some of the guys that jumped me that day. Thanks.”

Miraea quickly turned red again at his praise. Weird. Aldric would have thought that such a girl got compliments all the time.

“So, what were you trying to show me earlier?” Miraea asked shyly, deliberately changing the subject. “What was the point of that demonstration?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, nothing interesting. Just that Dravion assumed that a spell’s power and size linearly increased with the amount of mana used to fuel it. It doesn’t. Or at least, it doesn’t have to. As you just showed, pumping more mana into a spell while keeping its overall mass low exponentially increases its power output. It might not be as big and dramatic as some ego driven mages would like, but it’s much more potent.”

Miraea just stared at him like she’d been struck in the head with a hammer, but Aldric kept talking. “Whatever. None of that is important. Tell me everything you can about your light magic! Do you mind if we do some tests later? I need to nail down what it is exactly that your mana is manipulating. It wouldn’t be light directly. Most variants are based on at least one of the four elements. Maybe fire? Have you ever tried to conjure fire before? Eh, that sounds too simple. Someone would have figured it out by now if it was that easy, surely. I wonder how much the mana changes based on the caster’s intent...”

“You can ignore him, milady,” Zasia said apologetically to Miraea. “He gets like this sometimes when he finds something that can actually get him to sit still long enough to study it. Best to just let him work it out. He’ll eventually get stuck and be back in a moment.”

Miraea was looking at the textbook in front of her like she was seeing it for the first time. “Does he frequently upend commonly held beliefs like this?” she asked in a daze.

“Annoyingly, yes,” Zasia muttered. “Please don’t indulge him. He’ll get a big head if you’re too impressed.”

“But Dravion is your ancestor, yes?” Miraea asked. “You still agree with him?”

Zasia sniffed in irritation. “I was, of course, reluctant to believe him at first, but he’s right. He’s a stubborn brute sometimes, but he’s quite smart when he chooses to be. Honestly, it’s part of why his test scores are so poor. He’s too stubborn to write the answer the professors expect to see, but he won’t bother to explain his reasoning to them, either.”

“They wouldn’t listen,” Aldric interjected before returning to his ruminations. Zasia rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“I know you two got into an argument,” she began carefully. “But I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. Wasn’t it, Aldric?” She punctuated her question with a jab to Aldric’s ribs, and he nodded reluctantly. “And I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude when he grabbed you earlier. He can just be free spirited when he finds something that fascinates him.”

“That is alright,” Miraea answered while staring intently at Aldric. “I can... I can understand the impulse. What is fascinating must be studied.”

“See, Miri gets it,” Aldric said, pausing in his mutterings to throw a smirk at Zasia. “Maybe you’re the weird one, being so boring all the time.” He ducked the second slap to his head, so Zasia pinched his side instead, causing him to yelp for mercy.

“And when did you two get on a first name basis? Don’t give nicknames to people you just met.” she chided him angrily. “I only just got done apologizing for you. Be polite.”

“I don’t mind,” Miraea interjected. She didn’t look offended at all. In fact, she looked absurdly pleased, like Aldric had just rewarded her. “Both of you may call me whatever you like.” Then her smile faded, and she stared at the tabletop in front of her shyly. “So, um... are we... does that... um...”

“What?” Aldric asked, leaning in closer to hear her.

“Can we... be friends?” she asked, her face again going scarlet. Well, that was random. Aldric was about to say just that, but he stopped. She was looking up at Aldric with the most heart wrenching expression he’d ever seen on a person. She was scared, he could clearly tell. Aldric instinctively knew this girl would be devastated if he rejected her here.

“I’m sorry if that was too sudden,” Miraea hurriedly added when they didn’t immediately answer. “I just... you two are so interesting and nice... and, um... did... did I do this wrong? I’m sorry...”

In that moment, Aldric realized the truth. He could recognize the desperate need behind her watery violet eyes, to be accepted and seen by others for who she really was. Aldric now knew with certainty that this girl had never had a friend before. The entire month she’d been following him around, not once had he seen anyone recognize her or approach her in all that time. She went to school, went home and seemed to do nothing else. He could easily imagine, even with his limited experience, how alienating it must be to come from a house as prestigious as the Meltisse family. Even Aldric, the boy who had the least respect for noble propriety, had been immediately intimidated and wanted to avoid her.

Aldric looked to Zasia. She had a look on her face like she was staring at a wounded puppy that had just cuddled up to her and yipped for attention. He knew without asking that despite her earlier warnings to stay away, she’d never forgive him for turning Miraea down. She’d always had a soft spot for people who were struggling through life on their own with no place to truly belong.

People like Aldric.

“Yeah, we can be friends,” Aldric answered, giving Miraea a smile. Then he went blind as her smile of a million suns lit up the room.

“Truly?” Miraea asked in wonder, looking like she could hardly believe what she’d heard with her own ears. “I would be so honored!”

Aldric’s smile dimmed a bit. “Yeah, we’re friends. But we have to work on that formal speaking habit of yours. You talk like you learned to do it in a book or something.”

Aldric regretted it the moment he’d spoken the words aloud. Before he could try to extricate his foot from his mouth, Zasia already had a firm grip on his ear and was twisting it mercilessly.

“Ignore him. He’s just a jerk,” Zasia said as she ignored Aldric’s pleas for mercy. “We’re happy to be your friends, Miraea.” Then she paused and added with a smile. “Though, if you ever want to practice talking, I’m always available to help. Up to you.”

Miraea’s eyes were impossibly wide as she looked at Zasia, like she’d received two gifts after only expecting one.

“Thank you, both of you! I’m glad we’re friends,” she said in a voice of honest happiness. It still sounded like an awkward thing to say, but it was clearly heartfelt.

“Found you, Dengarius! Hiding out in your hole in the library again?”

The light and pleasant mood came crashing down as Aldric recognized the voice. Gabin Volus, with two hangers on at his back, came swaggering into view as if the entire library was theirs and Aldric and company were merely visiting. The look on Gabin’s face was enough to tell Aldric that he had come looking for trouble.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding, Dengarius. What’s the matter? Afraid I might come looking for you?”

“For one blissful moment, Volus, I actually forgot you existed,” Aldric answered. This idiot and his cronies had no reason to stick around after the school day. They were here specifically to find Aldric. They also didn’t seem worried that Zasia was there, which made Aldric doubly nervous. Usually, just the sight of her was enough to discourage harassment.

Aldric made a show of reading his book and ignoring the other boy. “This library doesn’t have any picture books, so there’s nothing for you here. You and the two leeches can go find trouble somewhere else.”

“You’re pretty brave when you’ve got your attack dog sitting next to you, huh?” Gabin said, indicating Zasia. She didn’t respond to the taunt, instead just glaring holes into Gabin’s skull. “You’d best learn your place, Glory. Wouldn’t want unseemly rumors spreading. Is the leash he keeps you on at least made of a nice leather? I doubt he could afford it, though.”

Zasia was about to finally retort back, but surprisingly, Miraea beat her to it.

“Please do not speak of her that way. She is my friend. I do not appreciate your implication, young Lord Volus.”

Her voice was suddenly sharp and clipped, with a dark tone that made Aldric very glad they were now friends. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Gabin and the gang looked to Miraea like they had just noticed her for the first time. After a brief double-take and a flash of confusion, Gabin’s arrogant confidence changed to guarded disdain.

“Young lady Meltisse. I did not realize you were there, my apologies,” he hurriedly answered in a much more polite tone. “I suppose it was beneath me to insult a lady in such a manner. Current company,” he growled with a look at Aldric, “made me forget my manners.”

“I do not need or want your apology,” Miraea answered brusquely. Aldric hadn’t seen her like this since they’d gotten into a fight in the headmaster’s office. “But I am sure my friends need one, and I am certain you will give it to them.”

Gabin laughed uneasily, like Miraea had just told a joke that he didn’t quite understand. “You’re... friends with Dengarius? My lady, if I may be so bold, he is not worth wasting the time of one such as yourself on. He’s a degenerate and a failure. Even his own family is ashamed of him, and they have enough to be ashamed of already. I would not put it past him to be using you. He is likely trying to hide behind your family name —”

“How we came to be friends is of no concern to you, Lord Volus,” Miraea interrupted. “And I believe I already made myself clear about how you should treat my friends. I would remind you that the man you are insulting is the same man who handily defeated you in your latest ‘duel’. It would be unfortunate if he gave you another reminder on your face simply because you could not control your words in front of two ladies of the peerage.”

Wow. Miraea got harsh when she was angry. Aldric liked this side of her as well.

Gabin’s face went red at the reminder. He unconsciously went to touch his bruised face before he realized the movement and schooled himself. “A fluke, nothing more. I should expect it of sorcerers to cheat their way to success. In any other scenario, I would have—”

“And yet you didn’t,” Miraea again cut him off. “Despite your attempts to circumvent the agreed-upon rules. Your attempt to accuse him of cheating is rather pathetic. Excuses are unbecoming, young Lord Volus. You embarrass yourself and your family.”

Gabin looked like he was considering risking the wrath of the Meltisse family, that goofy vein in his forehead pulsing again with anger. Gabin’s friends had noticed his mood and were slowly backing away, clearly not as gung-ho about pissing off a Great House heir as he was. Watching someone else on the other end of Miraea’s direct and brutally honest way of speaking, Aldric almost felt sorry for Gabin. Almost.

“You heard the lady,” Aldric said, thoroughly sick of Gabin’s face. “Scram.”

Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say. Or maybe it was just that Aldric had been the one to say it. Gabin rounded on Aldric and Zasia’s side of the table, his hand coming up and producing a thin rod of wood with intricate rune script glowing along its length. Aldric immediately recognized the spell wand, a leagues more powerful and expensive version of a spell scroll. That thing was likely filled to the brim with spells that, if not outright deadly, were certainly close to it. No wonder Gabin hadn’t cared if Zasia was present. He’d likely been trying to goad Aldric into attacking him and then “defending” himself. Zasia would just be collateral damage.

Aldric dove on top of Zasia as she stared in shock at the wand, tackling her to the floor and shielding her with his body. His mind raced for what to do. There wasn’t much to be done, really. He just needed to keep Gabin busy somehow before he could focus long enough to unleash the wand’s —

Aldric stopped thinking when the entire world abruptly lit up with a blinding white light. Both Gabin and Aldric screamed out loud as their eyes were nearly fried from the intensity of it. Even after the light faded away, Aldric still had a massive black spot in the center of his vision. Zasia had thankfully been under Aldric and spared from the worst of it, but even she was blinking rapidly through watery eyes.

“Apologies,” Miraea’s voice said from somewhere. “I may have overdone that.”

The sight that greeted Aldric once he got his eyes working again would have been funny if it hadn’t been so terrifying. Gabin had fallen onto his butt. His cronies had, perhaps wisely, bailed on him the moment things turned potentially violent and were nowhere to be seen. Gabin was staring at the floor between his legs with a look of sheer terror. When Aldric looked as well, he understood why.

A perfectly shaped circular hole had been drilled into the stone flooring, its edges slowly melting from some sort of intense heat. It looked almost like someone had shoved a white-hot metal rod through wax, and it was only a foot away from Gabin’s crotch.

Aldric could barely make out the charred remnants of Gabin’s spell wand near the hole, most of it now ash. Spell wands were not fragile things. The sheer volume of concentrated mana loaded into them usually protected them from most spells, but whatever Miraea had done had blasted right through this one. It had also given Gabin a significant contact burn on his right hand where he’d been holding the wand.

Aldric looked at Miraea and almost flinched. The look on her face was frightening. Her vibrant violet eyes were faceted on Gabin with unreal intensity, genuine anger flickering deep within them. Aldric was surprised Gabin wasn’t dead just from that look.

“Leave,” she said simply. The single word was not shouted or snarled, but it carried deadly intent. Aldric had no problem believing that Miraea fully intended to make her next spell hit Gabin in the head if he was brainless enough to try anything.

Gabin didn’t need to be told twice. He was scrambling to his feet and rushing for the exit the moment she finished talking. Aldric and Zasia said nothing, unable to voice their amazement.

“Aldric, it worked!” Miraea abruptly declared, looking at him and beaming. The terrifying noblewoman who’d been in her place was abruptly gone. “It wasn’t exactly fire, but I can make the spell hot. You were right! My element isn’t just light!”

“Uh-huh. Cool,” Aldric muttered hollowly. He was still staring blankly at the melted marble floor.

The librarian from earlier rounded the corner once more, obviously furious to hear them causing a ruckus again, but stopped dead with her mouth still open when she took in the smoldering floor. Miraea noticed the woman and looked at her.

“I apologize. That was dangerous of me. Someone could trip on that hole,” she said, completely straight faced.

Aldric didn’t know if she’d meant to be funny, but he started laughing hysterically, regardless. Seriously, what an odd girl.

~~~

“NO, NOT LIKE THAT!” Aldric chided. “Feel the intent. Don’t just brute force it. There you go, much better. Just keep that up.”

Miraea frowned but kept her spell going as Aldric told her to, minding how much mana she infused it with. The tiny ball of light in her hands slowly became smaller and dimmer as she tried to infuse her will into the spell. This was usually the part where the light would flicker and waver uncertainly, right on the cusp of going out entirely, and Miraea would panic and flood the spell with her mana to keep it going. She’d been using her overwhelming mana pool to supplement fine control for so long that it was now getting in her way.

Miraea had been eager to immediately learn as much as possible about how her magic worked, and Aldric had happily agreed. He was just as fascinated, if not more so. Incorporating heat into her light magic was already very impressive, but Aldric was certain there was more to Miraea’s magic than that. Maybe more than any living mage to date.

“It makes sense, though!” Aldric had protested when the girls had given him dubious looks. “Miri’s magic is too specific. If light really was a fundamental element of magic, it wouldn’t just be unique to her family alone. Magic just doesn’t work that way. Zasia isn’t the only quadra elemental in existence, even if that is a rare talent. As uniquely powerful as the empress is, she isn’t the only celestial summoner. There has to be something more to the way she uses magic.”

“So, what is it?” Zasia had asked, exasperated. “You wouldn’t bring this up if you didn’t already have an idea.”

Aldric’s answer had been to grin devilishly. “She doesn’t control light mana. She controls all mana.”

That had confused them even more, so Aldric had to elaborate. The popular consensus on spell casting was that mages burned mana to fuel spells, the way one might burn logs to fuel a fire. It was an understandable way of looking at it, but Aldric thought it was too limited. It made little sense that mana was finite. Where did mana come from? Why were mages always able to collect more of it over time, even unconsciously? If it was always permanently spent when a spell was cast, then why hadn’t the practice of magic died out ages ago?

Aldric theorized mana wasn’t destroyed or spent in its utilization. It was simply told to act in a certain way by the will of the mage casting the spell, then took the form of that will and left a mage’s body. Once the will had ‘expired’ and the mage’s spell ran its course, that mana faded and became latent mana once again.

“That’s all fascinating,” Miraea had said, looking like she was genuinely considering Aldric’s point, “but that doesn’t answer why you think I’m able to control all mana?”

Latent mana, on its own, didn’t really do much except exist. It needed a medium to act on. That medium, according to most magical scholars, was the energy of the world. That energy was often divided into the categories of fire, water, earth, wind, and life.

All humans were born with some amount of life mana, but only healers and enforcers could directly use it. Most stuck to the primary four. There were different offshoots and combinations, of course, and rare exceptions like Zasia, who were innately born with multiple affinities right from the start, but all mages boiled down to being proficient in at least one of those five elements. Both girls had impatiently waved Aldric on, already being familiar with lessons they would have been taught by their families as children.

Light was, in Aldric’s estimation, pure energy. If energy was there, you got light. If it wasn’t, you got darkness. But it wasn’t an element. It was just the simplest manifestation of energy. That would explain why Miraea’s ability to manipulate all forms of mana manifested as “light magic”. No one, not even the Meltisse family, could really coach Miraea on using such a unique form of magic. She’d mostly figured it out on her own through sheer talent and natural understanding, so her magic had defaulted to its purest form. She was unconsciously manipulating mana itself without realizing it. If that was true, then she should be able to manipulate other aspects of mana as well. Or, perhaps, even all of them. Perhaps even aspects that no one yet knew of.

Zasia had still been unconvinced, but Miraea had been ecstatic. That was why Zasia was currently on standby, water spells ready just in case Miraea accidentally immolated the overgrown garden on Aldric’s family estate.

None of them really knew what to expect from their testing of Aldric’s theory. They couldn’t do an experiment this potentially dangerous just anywhere, and Aldric knew his father and Nora didn’t give a damn about the condition of the garden. They might as well do it here.

Miraea had already more or less mastered combining heat with her light magic by now, much to the glee of her family and Headmaster Meltisse. According to them, no one in their family or elsewhere had ever altered their magical element so much before. The whole thing was written off as Miraea just possessing absurd levels of talent, which was true, but Aldric thought the claim unfair. It wasn’t like Miraea had just stumbled onto the discovery. She’d worked hard for it. Maybe too hard, even.

Aldric could tell by now, after several months of getting to know her, that Miraea was getting frustrated. She never verbally complained or acted out, but her mouth tended to flatten out ever so slightly anytime she was annoyed. Using Aldric’s mana cultivation method certainly helped, but he was still asking her to do something that literally no one else ever had. It didn’t help that she was far more stubborn than many people would expect, unwilling to stop practicing until she had it perfectly. It made Aldric feel like he was looking in a mirror.

He really had to give Miraea credit. She was entirely unlike any noble, excluding Zasia, that Aldric had ever met. Despite having everything in her life handed to her, she didn’t act like the world owed her anything and was more than willing to put in the effort to earn what she wanted. As far as Aldric was concerned, it was a miracle the girl hadn’t grown up into a spoiled brat when she easily could have.

“Miri, take a break,” Zasia said as Miraea’s light spell accidentally snuffed out for the hundredth time. “You don’t have to master it all in one day. The school year might be almost over, but we’ll still be here to work on it with you.”

Miraea looked like she wanted to protest, but she quickly gathered herself and assumed her usual placid expression once again. “I understand. Thank you, Zasia.” Zasia coughed pointedly, and Miraea blushed slightly. “Oh, right. Thank you, Zee,” she quietly corrected herself. As much as they’d gotten her to open up over the last few months, Miraea still wasn’t comfortable talking informally. She wanted to be, though.

Miraea plopped down next to Aldric in the grass, kicking her bare feet out in front of her from under her dress and causing it to hike up her legs. Any noble that happened to pass by would have keeled over from the trauma of such a casual display from a noble heir, but Aldric considered it progress.

“You’re still sure I can do this?” Miraea asked Aldric. She seemed to feel guilty that she hadn’t figured out the trick to her magic by now. Aldric just grinned at her, thumping his ever-present notebook in his lap.

“I have every faith. Believe me, I’ve got more things for us to try once you figure this out, so let that be your motivator. How does it feel, by the way? Has it gotten any easier?”

Miraea gave him a small smile, something he was glad she did more often now. “Much. It comes more easily and is easier to control. I never would have thought that simply studying one’s mana properties would make them a better mage, but I feel as if even my light magic has improved.” Proving her point, she summoned a ball of light without a word, as easily as breathing. It hovered around Aldric in a spiral pattern, even changing colors as it flew. Then the light went out as her smile faded. “Is it odd that I’m enjoying this? I was always taught that magic was something to always be taken seriously and wasn’t a toy. My family would be scandalized if they knew what I’d been up to.”

“Screw that,” Aldric answered flippantly. “I love magic more than anything in the world. Of course you can have fun with it!”

Miraea stared at him wide-eyed, like he’d just told her a universal truth about life that she’d never heard before. Aldric chuckled at her innocent amazement.

“My family is no different,” Zasia said, sitting down on Aldric’s other side. “They also believe whatever you’re born with is all you’ll amount to. And yet, after only our first year at this academy, I’m already more skilled than most of my family peers. They’re hard pressed to devise how that’s possible.”

A sudden throat clearing from Aldric made her roll her eyes. “Yes, you certainly helped. Good for you. You should try putting those powers of research and out of the box thinking to your schoolwork, for once. If any other nobles ever learned that you’re the reason I learned how to use my white fire, they’d drop dead from the shock.”

“One could only hope,” Aldric muttered darkly. “And why would I bother getting good grades? Not like graduating will mean much for me. I’m not going anywhere related to magic after this. Why would I?”

“What does that mean?” Miraea demanded, giving Aldric an intense stare. Yep, that was anger in her eyes.

“It’s because of my family,” Aldric hurried to answer. “No one would hire a Dengarius for anything, much less a Dengarius with a tiny mana pool like mine.” He hoped she would leave it at that and not ask for details. He’d already been nervous enough to invite her to his house in its current dilapidated state.

Miraea’s frown only grew deeper, her head cocked to the side in that adorably confused look of hers. “Why would your family name matter? Is something wrong with them?”

“Miri,” Zasia chided, “we talked about being too direct with people. That’s not a polite way of asking.”

Miraea blushed and made to apologize, but Aldric waved her off. “It’s fine. She’s just asking. Kind of surprising she doesn’t know already, but it’s no big deal.”

Aldric absently fiddled with the grass in front of him as he wondered how to tell her. Contrary to his flippant attitude, a part of him was worried about how Miraea would react. He knew by now that she was very unlike most nobles, but she still was one.

“A lot of it happened before my time, but I know most of it. The Dengarius house used to be rather trusted by the ruling emperors of old, hence why we’re allowed to have a residence within the capital.” Aldric frowned as he tried to dig up the history of his family. It wasn’t something he was ever interested in, so he didn’t know too much. “The problems started when, several generations in a row, the family kept producing non-mage heirs.”

“Nobles don’t have to be mages, though,” Miraea said. Aldric nodded, conceding the point.

“Sure, it’s normally fine. Not exactly a good thing, but it happens. But all of them? Several generations in a row? Now that’s a scandal. Rumors abounded that the Dengarius bloodline was drying up. And it seemed like they were right. My father was the only one of his twelve siblings who was born with magical talent, and he wasn’t anything special. Just an average earth conjurer.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you are so mistreated.” Miraea commented.

“I’m getting there. My father, in his infinite wisdom, took it upon himself to deliver the Dengarius family back to its former glory, by whatever means necessary. That included... um...” Aldric waffled on the best way he could put it. “Selective breeding, I guess you would call it.”

Miraea didn’t seem to understand, but Zasia looked uncomfortable. She’d already heard this story and likely hoped she wouldn’t have to again. Realizing he was going to have to spell it out, Aldric sighed and just came out with it.

“He married a female mage from the Rendala family. They’re a well-known noble house even if they don’t have residence here. They also have a reputation for rich mage bloodlines.” Aldric sighed again and scratched at his head in irritation. “My dumbass father made an all-or-nothing bet on marrying well and producing a mage heir. He basically beggared our family by throwing money at the Rendala family to curry enough favor for him to marry one of their daughters. They eventually let him, and everything seemed better. At first.”

Aldric didn’t enjoy talking about his mother. He went silent for a long time, almost several minutes, while the girls sat in silence with him. Zasia eventually picked up the story for him, watching Aldric’s face with concern.

“Her name was Merdia Rendala. The poor girl was hardly sixteen, but Lord Dengarius had already spent so much on the Rendala family that they were essentially obligated to fulfill his request. She wasn’t an heiress and was terminally ill for most of her life. She’d been written off as an afterthought and unhelpful to the family. If she hadn’t been a mage, she likely would have been abandoned. Lord Dengarius was desperate and would take anyone, and the Rendala family saw a chance to kill two birds with one stone. It seemed to be a convenient match up for both parties.”

“Funny thing is, it worked. Kind of,” Aldric interrupted, yanking up a bit of grass as he did and irritably tossing it away into the wind. “They got me. A lowly sorcerer with barely a mana pool to even speak of.” Decades of feelings carefully stuffed down into his subconscious threatened to burst forth as he spoke. “To say my father was disappointed would be a wild understatement.”

Silence blanketed the garden. What could one say to such a thing? It was a simultaneously horrible yet tragically common story. Aldric knew for certain that he wasn’t the first heir to a noble house to be at such a disadvantage from birth, but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.

“My mother died from childbirth. That sick bastard put a kid inside of a teenager that was chronically ill and somehow expected everything to be fine. Or he just didn’t care.” Aldric’s fists balled up on the ground, tearing up bits of grass as they did. “He’s never once mentioned her since then, not even in private. He acts like she never even existed. I’m uncertain he even remembers the poor girl’s name.”

Aldric felt two hands suddenly grip his own, from two different people. Miraea and Zasia said nothing, just holding him and being there for him. Which was good, because Aldric didn’t think he could handle words right now. His eyes stung as he fought against his own emotions. Damn it, he was supposed to have moved past this by now. Was he cursed to always feel this way forever?

“His lordship would not appreciate you sharing such personal matters outside of the family, young master.”

Aldric nearly leapt out of his skin at the sudden voice. Nora the maid had somehow snuck up on their trio. She was annoyingly good at that. She looked at Zasia with what looked like barely disguised disappointment on her face. Nora likely never understood why he and Zasia had ever become friends at all. When she saw Miraea, however, her open look of astonishment was plain for all to see. If he’d been in a better mood, Aldric would have laughed.

“You’re welcome to tattle on me, then,” Aldric answered to Nora’s protest. “If my father is bothered so much, he can come out here and try to stop me.”

“Master Dengarius is currently planning for his visit to the castle in two days. Or had you already forgotten about our empress’ birthday celebration?” Nora asked icily.

“Sure he is. Or is he still in his... well, what do you call a closed-door meeting with black market dealers and cutthroats? Surely not a party planning committee. I doubt they’re all his plus ones, either.”

Nora scowled angrily, but she said nothing. As much as she may not like him, he was still the heir to the family. There was a limit to how much she could talk back to him in front of guests. She’d technically be indentured to him once his father died. Not that Aldric had any intention of keeping the vile woman around if he could help it.

Apparently having nothing further to say, she turned on her heel and marched back to the house, probably to go tell on him. Again. Whatever.

“She’s still cheery, isn’t she?” Zasia asked. She watched the older woman retreat with a look of obvious distaste.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aldric answered lazily. “That’s the first time she’s called me ‘young master’ in years. Probably because you and Miraea are here.”

“I don’t like her,” Miraea abruptly said, startling the other two with a dark frown aimed at Nora. “She doesn’t like Aldric.”

Aldric chuckled. “She doesn’t like anyone except father. And lots of people don’t like me, Miri. Don’t get all bothered by it.”

Miraea’s frown deepened. “Then I don’t like any of them, either.”

Aldric was a bit taken aback by that statement. It was a rather childish thing for a sixteen-year-old to say, but it was oddly touching that she so readily sided with him against everyone else.

“I will make sure you have employment after graduation,” Miraea continued, yanking the subject back to the earlier topic. “I don’t yet know where, but I will find something. If nothing else, I will make you one of the magic trainers for House Meltisse.”

“Um, Miri, I don’t know if you have that kind of power...” Zasia started, but Miraea was already talking over her.

“I will discuss it with my father. There is no need to worry about your future.” Miraea took Aldric’s hand possessively between her own. “So, you must still do well in school. You cannot give up on magic, not if you truly love it so much. Promise me.”

She gave him a heart-stopping smile that threatened to melt him into a puddle. Aldric wasn’t sure if she’d caught on how effective her smiles were on him, but it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t possibly say no to her. So, he didn’t.

“Yeah, alright,” he answered lamely. “I guess it wouldn’t kill me to try a little.” His obedience was rewarded with an even lovelier smile.

“... that’s it?” Zasia demanded, looking at Aldric like he’d grown a second head. “That’s all it took? After all the years I spent trying to get you to focus more on school, all you needed was a pretty girl to smile at you for you to commit?”

Abruptly embarrassed and not sure why, Aldric immediately yanked his hand from Miraea like it was on fire. “Shut up! I’m allowed to change my mind! Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her about being charming!”

Zasia studied him closely in silence, which didn’t help the warm feeling in Aldric’s face. When he looked at Miraea, she was staring at them both with her head tilted again.

“D-Didn’t you say you two were going to leave to do something?” Aldric stammered, desperate for a topic change. Thankfully, Zasia’s face lit up with remembrance at his words.

“Oh, right! We were supposed to go shopping!” Now that someone had brought up fashion, Zasia’s mind instantly switched gears. “Gods, when did it get this late? Miri, come on! We can still pick out dresses for the empress’ birthday celebration if we hurry!”

Aldric did his best to not exist as he tried slinking off back to his house, but Zasia caught him by the arm before he could escape. “You too,” she commanded. “We need a man’s opinion.”

“My opinion is that you’re both gorgeous and would make even a canvas sack look nice,” Aldric hastily said. Miraea actually turned pink at that, but Zasia just snapped at him.

“Stop saying sweet nothings just to get out of it! We need an outfit for you too, anyway.”

“What?” Aldric squawked, now beyond panicked. “Since when? I wasn’t even going to —!”

“Yes, you were,” Zasia interrupted, still hauling on his arm. “It’s the empress’ birthday party, Aldric. Everyone must attend, even boors like you.” She practically dragged him off, Aldric trying in vain to dig his heels into the dirt in protest. He looked to a stunned Miraea for help, but Zasia beat him to her.

“Miri! If you can convince him to go, I’ll let you pick out his outfit!”

Miraea finally looked like a girl her age as her face lit up with excitement. Without a word, she took Aldric’s other arm in hers and assisted Zasia in dragging Aldric off to his personal nightmare.

Chapter 4

AS WAS APPROPRIATE for an empress’ birthday, Redan’s castle was opened to all levels of nobility for the duration of the event. Aldric had never even stepped foot in the place, so even someone as unenthusiastic as him to be there was blown away. It was a given that they would go all out, but this put any expectations he had to shame.

The front gates were packed with noble families attempting to get in before anyone else, likely to catch the empress alone and kiss ass for all they were worth. Several commoner citizens were also gathered and staring in awe at the amount of wealth each person carried. Every noble, from adult to child, was dressed resplendently. Only the best for their empress, after all.

After several minutes of loitering around waiting for his turn to enter, Aldric was finally greeted by a gate guard, who asked to see his invitation. Aldric had tried to salvage the piece of paper after he’d dismissively tossed it in a bin months ago, thinking he’d never come here. The guard clearly noticed and gave Aldric a stern look, but he still accepted it and allowed him passage. Aldric was immediately escorted by a castle servant through the labyrinth that was Redan's castle. They led him with a clipped and hurried pace, clearly not wanting him to wander off or get distracted by the lavish wealth on display.

They finally arrived at a grand dining hall, and Aldric suspected this one room could easily swallow his entire house several times over. Hundreds of tables, loaded to the brim with expensive food and drink, dominated most of the hall. Above hung chandeliers decorated with glycite crystals, rare stones infused with mana that cast an ethereal glow throughout the room. Aldric also saw that the ceiling had been decorated with a complex and massive mural, depicting famous events in rhagian history and the noteworthy deeds of past rulers. Most of them were of wars with the other two countries on the continent, something that didn’t surprise Aldric in the slightest. That was three quarters of this continent’s diplomatic history.

Noble guests wandered back and forth about the hall, likely taking advantage of the gathering to check in with political allies and oversee potential enemies. Some of them sent curious looks Aldric’s way, then noted the family crest embroidered on his outfit and immediately dismissed him from their minds. That was just fine by Aldric. He had no desire to play the cloak and dagger games these people seemed to subsist on.

Aldric had shown up alone, since Zasia and Miraea were expected to attend with their families. Aldric’s father hadn’t bothered to wait for him either, likely not even realizing that his son was going to be there. It was better that way. Besides, he’d needed the extra time to figure out how his ridiculous outfit was supposed to be put together.

Pleading and begging had done nothing to deter his two friends, who had spent hours dressing him up like a doll for their amusement. Both of them had said he looked fantastic, which only made Aldric think they had terrible taste. Was constant discomfort and a limited ability to breathe simply part of being fashionable? Anytime he’d tried to complain, however, Zasia would insist that women had it far worse and that he should stop being a baby.

She’d also insisted on Aldric’s family crest being embroidered into the clothing, as was tradition. Aldric had scoffed at the design emblazoned on his jacket sleeve, an image of a red-eyed fox with a dagger in its mouth. It was supposed to symbolize cleverness and a will to persevere. No emblem was more appropriate for a family of desperate vagrants who had yet to accept their irrelevance.

Of course, everyone at the party paled compared to the empress herself. Even as a woman of advanced years, she possessed enough wealth to more than make up for it. Her extravagant, overflowing robes were proudly emblazoned with a white serpent circling a black tower, the royal crest of House Rhagia, and enough gold filigree and silver insets to blind a person if they looked at her for too long. Someone had even taken the time to weave small glycite crystals into her ornate grey hairdo, which struck Aldric as excessive, even for a monarch. Aldric politely clapped along with everyone else, but mostly ignored her. She was of no interest to him, and it wasn’t like he’d ever have the chance to meet her in person.

The beginning of the feast had composed of surprisingly little feasting. It was mostly spent with the empress giving a flowery speech to her guests that Aldric mostly tuned out. When she was finally done, said guests then took turns lavishing her with insincere praise and rambling diatribes about every possible positive thing about the woman, true or not. Perhaps that was only the way Aldric saw it, but he couldn’t help himself from sneering internally. He was relieved when the fawning crowd was finally dismissed and allowed to mingle before the main feast. Aldric resigned himself to standing near a far corner, out of sight and looking for Zasia or Miraea.

He ended up finding Miraea first, and in hindsight, he should have expected how easy it would be to pick her out of a crowd.

Miraea looked even more incredible dressed for a royal occasion. She and Zasia were probably the only two people Aldric thought could actually pull off such gaudy outfits. Her white and violet dress, matching the colors of her house emblem and her eyes, looked to be more expensive than the entirety of Aldric’s family fortune. Her white hair was pulled back out of her face, done up in intricate braids that accentuated her features rather than looking overdone. If Aldric hadn’t already gotten used to how unusually pretty Miraea was, he’d likely have gawked like an idiot.

Proving Aldric’s point, several other boys around his age were all doing just that as they surrounded her on all sides. No doubt they were trying to make their existence known to her while simultaneously currying favor with the Meltisse family. The boys all did their best to heap praises on her and extol her many physical attributes to woo her, but none of them appeared to be working. Miraea’s politely blank face would have fooled most people, but Aldric could tell she was simultaneously unimpressed and annoyed. Aldric debated if there was some way he could spare her from the attention, but he doubted he had the clout to simply walk up publicly to a Great House heiress without embarrassing her. He could probably come up with a distraction, though.

“Happy birthday, your majesty!” Aldric called out to no one in particular. “May I say just how impressive your outfit looks tonight? Of course, even pieces as resplendent as those are mere baubles to such a mature beauty!”

As he’d hoped, every head within thirty feet of Aldric, including the boys surrounding Miraea, whipped around frantically, all eager to capture the empress’ attention. The crowd suddenly swarmed where Aldric’s voice had rung out, but he’d already beaten a hasty retreat and was watching the chaos unfold with amusement. Honestly, nobles were just too easy.

He’d only just turned around to find Miraea right there in front of him, beaming. Aldric didn’t have time to say anything before she grabbed his hand and dragged him off. Several people nearby noticed and started whispering in scandalized voices. It was an open act of affection in a very public and formal place, after all. Aldric caught a few glares from some of the nearby noble boys, but Miraea either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

She led him to a one of the many large window terraces with balconies off to the side of the hall, overlooking the city of Redan far below. Aldric might have appreciated the lovely view if he wasn’t being forced to be here. The moment they were out of sight, Miraea let out an uncharacteristically improper sigh of exhaustion.

“Have you seen Zasia?” she asked, fanning her flushed face desperately. Aldric imagined such a complicated outfit got warm quickly. He grabbed a nearby empty drink tray and started fanning her with it. It tussled her hair a bit, but she seemed to appreciate it.

“Nope. Literally everyone who’s anyone is here,” Aldric answered as they both leaned up against the balcony railing. “We could spend all night looking for her. I was surprised to even find you. Your cluster of fans gave it away.”

Miraea actually growled, a sound Aldric didn’t even know she could make until now. “It’s my father. He’s been arguing with me to consider my future and make alliances while I’m still young. I suppose part of that is securing a husband. He sent them himself, to ‘win my affections’. I think he actually expected me to pick someone immediately.”

A sudden and unreasonable amount of anger flared up in Aldric abruptly enough to surprise even himself. Stuffing the bizarre reaction back down, he said, “Zasia gets the same attention at events like these, too. You’re both... uh... nice looking, after all.” He hurried on before she could notice his blush. “And you both come from prestigious houses.”

Miraea turned away from him and gazed out beyond the walls of Redan, towards the outskirts of the city and beyond the hills and plains. She looked almost wistful, like she was looking at something she couldn’t have. “He wants to decide everything for me,” she said sadly. “He never even asked what I wanted. Maybe it sounds spoiled to say it aloud, but he’s almost always let me do as I like, for the most part. I could even talk him out of expelling you all those times I watched you defend yourself.”

“Wait, what?” Aldric asked. A sudden wind had caught most of her words, so he figured he must have misheard her. Now it was Miraea’s turn to blush, though Aldric didn’t understand why. He sped up his fanning of her in case she was getting heat stroke.

“Um, nothing!” she blurted. “I’m just complaining. I know my life is better than most, and that I will probably never want for anything. Nothing physical, anyway.”

Aldric frowned at her. “What does that mean?”

Miraea didn’t answer for several long moments. Aldric waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts, though he stopped fanning her when his arm started to get tired. When she did finally speak again, she didn’t answer his question.

“What do you want to do, Aldric?”

Aldric just blinked at her. “Um, just talking like this is fine.”

“I mean when you graduate. When you finally leave this place. If you could do anything, what would you do?”

Aldric had to think about that. Truth be told, he’d never really considered it. His future was so bleak as to almost not exist.

“I always figured I’d do something in magic research,” he finally answered haltingly after a few minutes of silent thought. “Not sure what, but it’s the only thing that sounds appealing. Though I have little reputation or wealth to get started on that. I just haven’t really thought about it much.”

Miraea frowned at him, seeming disappointed in his answer. Aldric quickly scrambled to come up with a better one, but Miraea turned back to the vista before them and spoke first.

“You can do better. You will. One day, you will do something amazing. I know it.”

Aldric would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. She was probably being nice, but she certainly sounded like she believed it. She wasn’t one to give false praise or hope, either. Zasia had once said that Miraea had as much trickery and guile as a punch to the face. She usually just told it like it was. For better or worse.

“Well, if I’m so set for life, I can’t imagine what insane things you and Zee will accomplish,” Aldric said offhandedly, trying to take the conversation away from his own uncertain future. “You both are twice the talent I am. What would you do?”

Miraea didn’t answer for a long time, instead staring blankly out at the city below. Aldric waited, not sure if she was upset with him, ignoring him, or just thoughtful. It was so hard to tell sometimes with this girl.

“... I want to find out,” she finally answered. Aldric frowned in confusion.

“Find out what?”

“What I want to do.”

Aldric stared at her. Was that supposed to be an answer? He still waited in silence for her to continue, however. Miraea herself frequently admitted she wasn’t good at putting her feelings to words. She rarely talked about her own life at all, so this was the first time Aldric had seen this much emotion from her.

“I’ve only recently learned what a fool I am,” Miraea eventually said. Aldric frowned at her, not expecting such an answer. “For not wanting more than what I had. For not wanting anything, really. From day to day, my entire life, I was told what I wanted. What the family wanted. I always thought that was right.”

She looked back to the balcony entrance and frowned in annoyance, likely thinking of her uninvited entourage waiting eagerly for her to return. “Only until recently did I question that. I spent so much time following my family blindly, time that I could have spent working towards... something. Anything. I have this burning desire to do something, yet no idea what that something is. It’s... frustrating.”

She turned to Aldric and frowned accusingly before he could respond. “It’s your fault,” she declared bluntly. “I should probably just admit it. I followed you for a long time. Long before we ever met. It was unbecoming, and I knew that, but I still did. You were fascinating to me. I could never understand why you tried so hard. No one expected anything of you, but you still tried. People routinely put you down and tried to break you, but you never let that stop you. I wanted to know what drove you. I wanted to feel what you felt. To yearn for something.” She paused, then smiled sadly at him. “I wanted to know what drove the boy who claimed magic was his favorite thing in the entire world, when magic had only ever been a forgone obligation to me.”

Quiet dominated the balcony, the only sounds being the voices of chatting nobles and the clinking of wine glasses that floated through the balcony doors to the great hall. Aldric never would have suspected Miraea had any sort of interest in him before a few months ago. Even now, he could only say they were good friends, mostly because Miraea didn’t have any others. If he was honest with himself, he of course had hoped for more. He briefly wondered if he should use this moment to tell her just how fascinating she was to him, and not just because she was absurdly pretty, but Miraea stole his moment.

“That’s why I don’t like it when you put yourself down or say that all your effort is for nothing. That’s why it upsets me when you act like you have no future. It sounds like you’re giving up, and it makes me wonder if I should just go back to being the mindless puppet of my family. I don’t want to do that. So, you aren’t allowed to give up either. Take responsibility for what you’ve awoken in me. Please.”

Then she gave Aldric a smile that was lovelier than any she had ever given him. It had nothing to do with her looks, or the expensive dress, or the gorgeous view before them. It was simply filled with such sincere admiration and hope for him that it nearly made him cry. No one, not even Zasia, had ever looked at Aldric with such a look of unwavering faith.

“You’re at your best when you’re struggling, Aldric,” she said gently. “Don’t ever stop.”

Aldric couldn’t speak. As far as compliments went, it was an odd one. Most would probably be mildly offended. But Aldric felt like Miraea had just grabbed a hold of his soul and thrummed it like a harp string. The truth of her words caused an odd resonance inside of him. Even if it was for a single, fleeting moment, a lifetime of horrid treatment was shoved to the side to show him a world he never would have thought possible.

What did it matter that no one took him seriously? That hadn’t stopped him from coming as far as he had, right? He would do what he wanted, because he wanted to, and the world could go get bent if it didn’t like it. It didn’t matter that his family name meant nothing to anyone. He had another name he could use, and the name Aldric could mean a lot to many people if he tried hard enough. Even to a girl as amazing as this.

“Then I’ll struggle,” Aldric answered simply, his conviction solidifying into iron with the statement. “But you have to struggle with me. Don’t just do what your father wants. Do what you want. Even when he works behind your back, just keep following your own desires. Me and Zasia will be with you the entire way, if you’ll have us.”

Miraea’s smile somehow became even brighter. “Deal,” she said simply. Her smile faded a bit as she fell into deep thought. “I still don’t know how to do that, though.”

Having been lost in the emotional high from the impactful moment, Aldric waffled as his mind came back to the present. To be honest, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He’d mouthed off and made some big claims without even thinking.

Miraea thankfully kept thinking and gave Aldric time to as well. Aldric’s eyes cast about desperately before catching sight of a servant that was exiting a side room in the great hall. Aldric had assumed it was just for servants or kitchen staff, but people had been coming and going from the room all night. When yet another group of servants walked up to the large but unadorned double doors, Aldric saw they were carrying a large crate between two poles with them. The servants disappeared into the room, then returned a few minutes later without the crate. It must be for storage. And the only thing they would store throughout the celebration would be gifts for the empress. A rather juvenile but funny idea popped into Aldric’s head.

“We’ll start small,” Aldric said, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially to Miraea. “Let’s sneak into the gift room.”

“What? Why would we do that?” Miraea asked, shocked.

“Because we’re not supposed to,” Aldric answered easily, with a devilish grin. “Your father would probably have a fit if he knew you snuck into some dark corner of the castle without permission. Besides, you’re not curious? Who knows what kind of gifts an empress would get? This might be your only chance to find out.”

“Isn’t that a bit childish?” Miraea asked skeptically, though she hadn’t declined immediately.

“Yep,” Aldric answered easily. “And when was the last time you did something like that? Like I said, we’ll start small.”

Miraea opened her mouth, closed it, then stared at the entrance to the gift room Aldric had pointed to. After a moment’s thought, she looked back at him, a small smile on her face.

“An excellent point. How do we do it?”

~~~

DESPITE BEING IN THE largest governmental building in the empire that housed the ruling empress, sneaking around the place proved embarrassingly easy. All it took was Aldric causing enough of a commotion with a few nobles in the crowd for the single guard that had been watching the door to leave his post. After that, Aldric and Miraea had simply walked right in, with no one the wiser. If anyone ever learned of this, entire scores of guards would be fired in an instant, and rightly so. Not that Aldric minded how easy it had been.

The room was rather dark, but there was enough light coming through windows throughout the room that illuminated it enough to see. The ceiling loomed high above their heads with a vaulted ceiling, perfect for storing a horde of gifts. It was absolutely filled with the things. Every possible luxurious thing Aldric could name was in this room, and even a few he’d never thought of or had never heard of.

Among the sea of luxury, the standouts were a gigantic statue of the empress and a caged cat-like beast of some sort. The caged creature hissed a bit and scared the daylights out of Aldric and Miraea, but then settled down to sleep and ignored them entirely. What madman had given that thing as a gift? And what the hell was the empress supposed to do with it? Keep it as a lap cat?

Miraea turned to Aldric expectantly, looking somehow both excited and worried at the same time. “Now what?” she asked quietly into the crowded room. No one was here, but she still felt the need to whisper. It was cute how nervous she was to be deliberately breaking the rules. He played along with her and keep his voice down as well.

“That... is a good question,” Aldric whispered back. He was mostly flying by the seat of his pants on this one. He looked around briefly, thinking. It wouldn’t do for Miraea’s first taste of freedom to just end at sneaking into a restricted area. Even if they got caught, they could easily just explain that they got lost and be returned to the party. It wasn’t like anyone would doubt Miraea’s word. No, this needed to be a bit more. What would be appropriately adventurous?

While Aldric thought, Miraea wandered the room and gawked at the gifts like a kid at an exhibit. It was quite the impressive lineup, even if Aldric internally groaned at the waste of empire resources. Seriously, the cost of some of these things could likely feed a large village for a month. Most of this crap would never even leave this room. Or they would eventually be sold off. At least it would have a use then. Aldric wondered what his father had brought tonight to stay relevant and in the empress’ good graces. It couldn’t possibly measure up to all of this, surely?

Signaling to Miraea to follow him, Aldric searched for any sort of organization to the chaos. Thankfully, some servant had the foresight to alphabetize which gifts came from who. It didn’t take too long for the two to find the gift from Lord Dengarius. As soon as he saw it, however, he just couldn’t accept it.

To Empress Minerva Rhagia, sovereign of the Rhagian Empire, given by the families of Belfrit, Libri, Sycra, and Dengarius. For as long as this monument stands, let her reign bring peace to her people.

The plaque at the foot of the colossal statue that dominated the center of the room was clear, but the implication behind it baffled Aldric. How the hell had his father afforded this? It was at least the height of four or five men and impressively lifelike. Even if other families had all chipped in, this thing must have been impossibly expensive. He’d never even heard of the other three families listed, so they couldn’t have been very well off either.

“I’ve never heard of the other three families,” Miraea whispered as she read the plaque. “I’m impressed your father could requisition such a fabulous gift, even with assistance. My own family wouldn’t have gone this far just to please the empress.”

That statement caught Aldric’s attention. If even Miraea had never heard those family names before, that was extremely odd. At the very least, they weren’t from Redan and wouldn’t likely be at this party. Aldric knew he would have noticed something like this in their own family manor, provided it could even fit, and it would have been too obvious and expensive to ship from outside the city. Where had Aldric’s father kept such a thing?

HIs suspicions mounting, Aldric walked closer to the statue and scrutinized it. It looked just like a statue, but something was off. When he reached out to touch it, the texture was rough like stone, but strangely pliable. When Aldric shoved a finger at it, the material dimpled beneath it like clay.

“You can’t be serious,” Aldric muttered to himself.

“What?” Miraea whispered.

“I think he faked this thing. This isn’t stone. Has he seriously fallen so far that he’d try to pass off a statue made of clay as the genuine article to an empress? He’ll be lucky to be jailed for such an offense. To make up a bunch of family names as well... seriously, what was his plan?”

Aldric was suddenly angry. Angry that his father was stupid enough to try something like this. Angry that he was going to make their lives even more miserable after this was inevitably found out. And for what? To have the biggest gift at the party? None of it made any sense.

Frustrated, Aldric abruptly kicked the statue, leaving a soft indent in the strange material in the shape of his boot. The statue made an echoing noise, as if it was empty on the inside. How had nobody noticed what a piece of garbage this thing was?

“What, already? I thought we were waiting for the dinner speech to start?”

“Shut up, idiot. That’s the signal!”

Aldric nearly fell onto his butt from shock when the statue started talking. More than one voice came from within the fake stone, growling and cursing as loud thumps came from inside it. The fake stone material bulged outward as someone began pushing against the inside, then plopped onto the floor in a soft blob.

“Oh, to hell with this,” another voice growled. A sword point poked out from the statue, missing Aldric’s face by inches. That was enough for Aldric to snap out of his shock and act. Miraea had frozen up next to Aldric, looking horrified to have watched him nearly get skewered through the head. As quietly as he could manage, Aldric grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her over to a dark corner of the room to hide. Whatever was going on, Aldric wanted nothing to do with it. He pressed Miraea’s back to his chest to take up less space and ducked down behind a few boxes, hoping that their whispers hadn’t been heard earlier.

The sword that had nearly stabbed Aldric was cutting a door through the thick clay-like substance of the statue. When it was finished, a roughly rectangular slab fell away and smacked loudly against the stone floor. Then several figures emerged and spread out around the room, clearly looking for something. They were all men, twelve of them by Aldric’s count, and they all carried themselves like people accustomed to violence. Tall, well built, and armed with blades or clubs at their sides, they were all dressed in dark colors and were obviously up to no good. Aldric had a bad feeling that his father had gotten himself and the family mixed up in something awful.

“Where’d he go?” asked one man. His words were reflected in the confused faces of all the other men. “I thought it was time.”

“See? I told you it was just random noises! Now we’ve blown the whole thing!”

Before the argument could go any further than that, the double doors Aldric and Miraea had snuck through cracked open just enough for a thin beam of light to fill the room from the great hall. Aldric hoped for the briefest of moments that a guard had heard the voices of the men and come to investigate, but the reality had his heart sinking into his stomach.

Lord Dengarius slinked into the room before closing the door softly behind him, Nora the maid right on his heels. They were both dressed rather simply for such an event, something that Aldric never would have expected from a man desperate to hide his family’s misfortunes. Then he realized that it also made them inconspicuous and better able to slip into a crowd. Aldric’s father immediately spotted the rouges, but instead of screaming in fright or running for the guards, he approached them with obvious familiarity and poorly concealed frustration. Aldric’s sinking feeling quickly became worse.

“You simpleminded idiots! I told you to wait for me to come get you. It took months of planning to get that damn thing in here, and you’re already ruining it!” The men tried to protest, but Dengarius cut them off. “Enough. It doesn’t matter. I took care of the guards already, anyway. We’ll not be bothered for the next hour at least.” Aldric now realized why it had been so easy for him and Miraea to sneak in here. “Everything is ready. You all know your part, yes?”

The biggest of the men, probably the leader, slammed his fists together with a nasty smile on his face. “Chaos and bloodshed. It’s what we do best.”

Miraea grasped Aldric’s arm over her front nervously. He didn’t blame her. If these men really were here to attack the party, it would be a bloodbath. No one had come expecting a fight, and weapons were not permitted within the castle. The guests would have a hard time fighting back, if they could at all. Being a mage didn’t mean you had the combat experience to fend off a sudden and violent ambush.

“And Nora?” Aldric’s father continued.

“The empress.” The maid produced a wicked-looking dagger from amongst her clothes. Something wet dripped off the end of its needle-sharp tip before she sheathed it again. “The provided poison has already been applied. Even a grazing wound will be fatal.”

Miraea’s hold on Aldric’s arm upgraded from tight to crushing. Even knowing what a bastard his father was, Aldric had a hard time believing what was playing out in front of him. Why was his father involved in something like this? And who were these people he’d apparently employed? What purpose would the empress’ death serve?

Lord Dengarius looked at all those gathered around him and nodded in satisfaction. “After that, we all meet up back here. Verona’s agent is already waiting outside with a carriage. We ride for Clarick village and lie low for a week, then proceed across the border to veronian lands.” Lord Dengarius leveled a severe look at all his co-conspirators. “You all will then be paid as promised and free to do whatever it is you do when you’re not running around like barbarians. If you are caught, you are not my problem. If you speak even a word of this to anyone, I will become your problem. We only get one chance at this. I will not have my family’s resurrection to power ruined by any screw-ups. Are we clear?”

Solemn nods were their only answer, and all of them began preparing for... well, a coup, apparently. What else could Aldric call it?

“They said they were working with Verona,” Miraea whispered, panic obvious in her voice. “Is this an act of war? We’ve been at peace with them for almost eight years. Why now?”

Had Aldric’s father gone mad? Was he being blackmailed into doing this? He certainly didn’t seem reluctant. He spoke of the empress’ death almost with a sense of relish. Some awful deal must have been struck with the veronians to restore their house in Verona in exchange for betraying the empire. Aldric had known his father had fallen lower and lower with each setback to the family, but this was just too much. Aldric was no patriot, but he never would have considered something this drastic.

While Aldric’s mind continued to reel, Miraea squirmed in his arms and turned to look up into his face. The look of terror plastered there probably matched his own, but there was something else. She had a determined glint in her eye that scared him.

“No,” he whispered with finality.

“Aldric, we have to,” she whispered back, voice pleading.

“Have to what? What exactly do you expect us to do about this? There’s at least twelve of them, fourteen counting my father and Nora. There could be more elsewhere, even.”

“Aldric,” Miraea pleaded, begging him with her eyes. “Please. Zasia is still out there!”

That thought made Aldric freeze. Shit. She was right. Whatever was going to happen next would involve Zasia. She was a fantastic mage, but she wasn’t a fighter. She was barely seventeen. Then again, so were Aldric and Miraea. Zasia in danger made Aldric change his mind about doing nothing, but it didn’t make him more capable of fixing this.

He was about to tell Miraea as much, but her look captured him before he’d even opened his mouth. Her eyes were scared, but they also held great expectation. She really thought he could fix this. It was rather intimidating to find such a large amount of unwavering confidence in him in her gaze. Aldric was torn between being flattered and being terrified. Seriously, what the hell was he supposed to do about this?

Cursing inwardly, Aldric began to think. They had little options or time. Aldric’s father was already cracking open the double doors again, peeking through them and checking on the state of the party. Everyone else’s attention was turned towards him. This was likely the only chance Aldric and Miraea would get.

Aldric briefly debated just approaching and asking what the hell they were doing, but dismissed it as he looked at those rough-looking men again. Miraea could probably flash-fry all of them before they even realized they were dead, but that would undoubtedly attract the royal guard. Without living perpetrators, Aldric and Miraea would have some very uncomfortable questions to answer about being in a restricted area surrounded by burnt corpses. Besides, he didn’t know how willing or able Miraea was to murder someone outright like that.

The caged beast they had seen earlier chose that moment to make its displeasure at the people crowding its room known. It yowled loudly, causing the group to whip around just as Aldric and Miraea ducked behind their boxes again. Seeing that the creature was locked up tight, the others quickly relaxed and went back to what they were doing, but Aldric had just gotten an idea. It was a crazy idea, but it was exactly one more than he’d previously had.

As quietly as he could, Aldric took Miraea’s hand and lead her over to the rear of the monster’s cage. She looked at him like he was crazy, which didn’t get any better when he fully explained his plan to her in rushed whispers. Thankfully, though, she didn’t argue with him. Aldric sort of wished she would and offer him a better idea.

The lock turned out to be a mana lock, but that was fine. Even Aldric’s paltry mana pool was enough for something like that. He took out the inscribed pick that he never left home without, gripping the lock in his right hand as he focused his mana on the enchanted metal. It took less than a second thanks to Aldric’s conditioning of what little mana he had. The cage door creaked slightly as it opened, but not loud enough to alert anyone.

That was when Aldric realized the ever so slight flaw to his plan. There was now a massive, angry cat monster mere feet away from Aldric, now with nothing in between the two of them. Thankfully, the creature bunched up against the rear of the cage and growled low in its throat, not sure of Aldric’s intentions but ready to attack if needed. Steeling his will, Aldric looked at Miraea at the rear of the cage and nodded.

Miraea, thanks to her recent training, could easily conjure a small orb of heated light on her fingertip without making it bright enough to attract the attention of everyone in the room. The monster cat’s attention was entirely on Aldric as it continued to snarl, so it never noticed when Miraea leaned forward and thrust the orb into the only place she could reach from back there.

To say that the poor animal panicked was a gross understatement. With an enraged roar, the beast erupted from the cage and just barely missed Aldric, nearly tearing the cage door from its hinges. In its pain and fury, it charged single-mindedly forward, away from the source of its agony and right into the shocked group of ne’er-do-wells.

The closest man screamed shrilly as the wild animal pounced on him out of fear and rage. The others screamed as well as they all scattered to the far ends of the room. Apparently, rebels had no loyalty to each other when massive cat monsters were involved. The unfortunate man underneath the beast was torn to ribbons by its claws and teeth, dead within moments. Another man who’d been too slow to react was pounced on next and received much the same treatment, his stomach being raked open in a horrifying display that made Aldric gag.

The double doors were suddenly kicked inward by a retinue of royal guards, swords out and ready for battle after hearing the death howls of the two now very dead men. Then they quickly back pedaled as the infuriated jungle cat lunged past them and out into the dining hall. Screams of terror from the guests quickly followed that.

Aldric wasn’t sure if they’d just helped or made things worse, but he hunkered down with Miraea behind more boxes to wait the situation out. The guards looked torn between addressing these intruders or protecting the guests, but the goons picked for them. All the armed men descended on the guards with weapons drawn, and a fierce melee quickly broke out. One guard was a conjurer and threw back some men with wind, but one intruder was an enforcer that cut through his opponents like butter. In the chaos, Aldric saw Nora drag off Aldric’s stunned father to the far end of the room and away from the fighting. Lord Dengarius’ face morphed from confusion to rage as he turned and screamed at the maid.

“Forget the plan! Just do it now!”

Nora immediately reached into her dress and pulled out a small gemstone. Aldric immediately recognized it. It was a signaling enchantment, likely meant to communicate with other teams of people nearby. Teams that would now attack the party guests and Zasia without mercy or quarter now that they’d been made.

“Stop her!” Aldric shouted, coming out from his hiding place and charging towards Nora. Both she and Aldric’s father widened their eyes in surprised recognition, but it was too late. With a flash of light and a sound like a bell being rung, the enchantment burst and disappeared in a sparkly puff of dust.

Aldric’s shout and the noise of the enchantment had put a pause on the fighting for only a moment, but it was enough for them to all hear it. Shouts of battle and bloodlust rang out from the great hall as the screaming of the guests redoubled.

Chapter 5

TO ALDRIC’S SURPRISE, Miraea was the first one to make a move. The dimly lit room was abruptly filled with a piercing and overwhelming light, followed by an intense wave of heat. Aldric couldn’t see a thing, but he could hear the screams of the armed goons his father had brought. When his vision finally cleared, two of the men were screaming and clutching at the stumps that used to be their arms. A third made no noise at all. He lay on the floor, unmoving, his head charred black.

The guards charged their newly weakened foes without mercy and made quick work of them. A fourth brigand recognized the danger Miraea posed and rushed her, his sword out and aimed to take her head off before she could get off another spell. Miraea stared at the large man barreling towards her, her body locked up and eyes wide. She was clearly scared stiff and defenseless, and the man charging her grinned as he lined up his sword swing.

Unfortunately for him, he met Aldric’s flying full-body tackle just before he got to her. It was a graceless move, and both attacker and Aldric went sprawling from it, but Aldric landed on top. He popped a quick punch into the man’s face to further daze him and buy time before whipping around to Miraea. She hadn’t moved an inch and was still in stunned shock. The fight between the guards and most of the armed men, mages included, had migrated outside. Aldric couldn’t expect help from the guards.

“Go back outside and get help!” he yelled at Miraea. “I’ll keep them busy!”

“But—!”

“GO!”

Aldric silently prayed she listened to him. Until a few months ago, she hadn’t even been able to use her magic offensively. She was a fantastic mage, but she wasn’t a fighter. Aldric could already see how much she was shaking in terror. She’d gotten an attack off in a moment of panic, but he doubted she was cool-headed enough to do it again.

Miraea hesitated for a moment longer before she hiked up her dress and sprinted for the door. A few of the men made to chase her, but Aldric was already making his move. He picked up the sword his opponent had dropped and hurled it end over end at the pursuers. It was wildly off target, but something about a razor-sharp instrument flying violently through the air will make any man drop to the ground in fright. Miraea’s pursuers were kept busy long enough to let her shove through the double doors and into the great hall.

Aldric sighed in relief, just before he gasped in surprise as the man underneath him bucked his hips hard. Aldric was sent toppling like a rag doll into the center of the room, where he was quickly surrounded by the last three men. Not waiting to become a victim, Aldric scrambled to his feet and charged the closest man to him. The man was already crouched and ready to lunge at Aldric, so Aldric abruptly changed targets to another man. Both opponents were caught off guard as Aldric bull rushed the second man, plowing headfirst into his sternum. He grabbed behind his opponent’s knees and pulled his legs up, causing both the man and himself to topple to the ground in a heap.

Aldric was already slamming fists onto the man’s face the moment they landed. Every hit sent a lance of pain through his hands, but desperation kept the hammer blows coming. When the man stopped trying to fight back after the third blow, Aldric quickly picked up the cudgel his opponent had dropped and whipped around to face the rest of his attackers, backing up against a large mosaic wall gifted to the empress so he couldn’t be attacked from two angles.

Years of bullying and being outnumbered in fights were actually paying off. Aldric had learned, through much trial and error, that running from a group of enemies was pointless when they had you cornered. You needed to attack into the ambush, preferably as violently as possible.

That being said, there was a massive difference between schoolyard bullies and armed murderers. The simple wooden cudgel in Aldric’s hands felt pitiful as he stared at the two remaining men. One had a similar cudgel, but the other had a deadly looking short sword. Aldric dimly noted that his father and Nora had disappeared at some point, likely to escape. He tried not to think about if Miraea or Zasia were in danger. They were smart girls and could get out on their own. Aldric would have to fight this battle alone, as usual.

Without warning, the cudgel wielding man dashed in on Aldric’s left side and lined up a powerful overhead swing, trying to brain Aldric with the first blow. Aldric instinctively raised his own weapon in a block, but he hadn’t been ready for the force behind it, and his guard crumpled easily. It didn’t outright kill him, but the glancing blow to his head still rung his bell. It left Aldric open for a sweep from the other man’s short sword towards his legs. Aldric tried to dance out of the way, but the razor-sharp blade caught him across the shin and tore through soft leather boots, pants and flesh like wet paper.

Aldric cried out as a white-hot sensation of pain shot up his leg, falling onto his butt and collapsing against the wall to his back. He only barely ducked to the side to dodge another incoming strike from the cudgel wielder. The force of the blow shattered the wooden weapon against the stone where Aldric’s head had just been. Wood splinters and expensive mosaic tiles showered down over Aldric as the cudgel wielder cursed and the sword wielder readied another swing at Aldric.

Realizing pausing meant death, Aldric did the only thing his panicked mind could think of in that moment; he hurled himself between the cudgel wielder’s legs. The sword wielder tried to follow Aldric with his swing, but the blade bit into the knee of his ally instead. The cudgel wielder cried out in pain, but the shout turned into a squeal several octaves higher when Aldric’s own cudgel nailed the man between his legs from underneath. His opponent bent over double and collapsed on his face, in too much pain to focus on anything else.

The sword wielder stared stupidly at his downed companion before turning back to Aldric. It proved a dire mistake. Aldric’s now airborne cudgel impacted with much better accuracy than his previous throw, landing point first right between the man’s eyes. The man fell hard onto his back, his head bouncing a bit off the stone floor and dazing him further.

Now weaponless, Aldric scrambled to his feet and tried to follow up on his advantage. He’d reached for his club that had clattered to the floor, but his vision abruptly blurred and split, creating multiple clones of the weapon. With a sudden sensation of vertigo, Aldric involuntarily collapsed to his hands and knees and vomited right there onto the floor. That blow to the head must have rattled him more than he’d thought.

Having had enough time to recover while Aldric had been losing his dinner, Aldric’s opponent was staggering to his feet and looking for his sword. Aldric saw he was closer and crawled over to the man’s sword first, grabbing it and thrusting it out weakly while still on one knee. Aldric’s opponent put his hands up in a weak surrender, eyeing Aldric’s new sword warily as he backed up against a random tapestry.

Neither of them moved. The room was abruptly and eerily quiet, save for Aldric’s and the man’s rough breathing. This fight had been no longer than a few minutes, but Aldric felt like he’d just tried to climb a mountain in record time. Adrenaline surged in his veins and made his heartbeat sound loud in his ears. It was so loud that he almost missed the sounds of screaming and fighting still coming from the great hall. The sounds reminded Aldric that he didn’t have time to waste here. His opponent was disarmed and exhausted. Now was the perfect time to attack.

And yet, Aldric didn’t. Despite the rush of battle coursing through his veins, despite Aldric’s every nerve firing at full power with tension, and despite knowing that this man wouldn’t even hesitate if their roles were reversed, Aldric couldn’t do it. He mentally screamed at his arms and legs to attack, but they outright refused. Not from exhaustion, but from something else. He’d never killed anyone before and didn’t know how to start. Or if he even wanted to.

That single moment of hesitation was enough for the mercenary to turn the tables. He quickly lunged forward and slapped Aldric’s sword on the flat of the blade and out of his hesitant grasp. The man snapped out a left hook to Aldric’s jaw, whipping his head to the side as his legs went limp and his vision burst into random colors. He didn’t even feel the impact as he collapsed onto his back, defenseless.

By the time Aldric’s vision stopped spinning, the man was already standing over Aldric, his reclaimed sword pointed at Aldric’s chest and ready to plunge down. Aldric tried to move and found he couldn’t. His head felt full of cotton, and his body wouldn’t take commands anymore. An icy fear clutched at Aldric’s heart as the world seemed to slow down, his vision narrowing to a single point on the tip of that deadly sword.

He was going to die. He would die to a stranger, and it was likely no one would ever know how or why. Or care. The thought was infuriating, and his inability to stop it drove him to madness. But for all his fury and fear, his body still didn’t move as the sword began its deadly descent.

“Stop.”

At the suddenly spoken command, the sword point pricked Aldric’s stomach but fell no further. The man looked at the entrance of the room and found Aldric’s father entering, Nora close behind. Both looked like hell. His father sported some bruises and a few cuts, but Nora looked like she’d been beaten with a wheat thresher. The dagger she’d shown before was still in her hand, but it lacked any blood along its blade.

“The plan has failed. We’re leaving. Go back out and buy us some time,” Aldric’s father said gravely.

“Sir, I’ll just—”

“NOW!” Any sense of propriety Lord Dengarius possessed was long gone. Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed the command at Aldric’s attacker, who immediately obeyed and scurried for the door in a hurry.

Aldric’s father loomed over his son as he glared down at him, face crazed with fury. Despite her obvious injuries, Nora was dutifully looming a few feet behind him like a second shadow. Before Aldric could do anything, manacles made of stone sprouted from the ground, wrapping around his wrists, ankles and throat and choking off anything he might’ve tried to say.

“You...” his father snarled, ignoring Aldric’s gasping attempts to take in a breath. “You have disappointed me for the last time. You live in my house, eat my food, sleep under my roof, and wear my name on your soul, and this is how you repay me? When the family needed you most, when all you needed to do was SHUT UP AND STAY OUT OF THE WAY, this is how you act? Even I could not have predicted this level of failure from you!”

“You... you were planning a coup!” Aldric rasped through his bonds. “You’ve betrayed the empire to Verona. What the hell did you expect me to do? Just sit there and —?”

“TO BE A GOOD SON!” his father roared, cutting him off. “For once in your miserable, insignificant life! To have a meaning to the family beyond being a drain on its resources and my patience! To stay the hell away from what has nothing to do with you! Your birth has been the single greatest detriment to this house since its founding! I should kill you for your incompetence!”

Aldric blinked at his father as his mouth snapped shut. He’d more or less known his father had hated him, but to have it said aloud and with such conviction and venom struck a chord. The old man heaved a massive sigh as he put his face in his hands.

“Everything... everything for us ended that day. Why do the gods hate me so? Why this boy?”

Aldric was furious. How did this bastard get off telling him that everything that had ever happened to him was somehow Aldric’s fault? Gods above, Aldric couldn’t even exist without his father giving him shit for it.

“Don’t be so high and mighty, pops,” Aldric growled. HIs anger fueled his words against his better judgment. “It takes two to make a kid. If I’m such a failure, maybe there’s just more of you in me than mom. Guess she was the lucky one. She got to die and be spared from your holier-than-though, self-victimizing bullshit!”

His father looked down at him in distaste, like he was an especially stupid child who was pretending to be wise. “That sow had one job and failed it. It would almost explain your own failings if I didn’t know any better.”

Aldric struggled against his bonds as he glared at his father. “You shut your mouth about my mother! You’re a sick bastard who impregnated a chronically weak teenager! Don’t bitch and moan when she died from your screw-up! If you’re so bad at creating anything for the family, maybe you should just give it up and die in obscurity!”

Aldric’s tirade broke off when his father stomped hard onto his sternum, forcing the air from his lungs in a painful whoosh. His stomach spasmed as he fell into a coughing fit, glaring hatefully at his father the whole time. To Aldric’s surprise, his father didn’t even look angry. He almost looked amused.

“So convinced of your own beliefs, aren’t you?” He crouched down and whispered with venom in his voiced. “Fools like you are the reason this world is going to hell. Idealists who don’t know when to stop dreaming. So what if she died? She failed her purpose and was no longer needed. I invested a king’s ransom in securing her for myself. Why shouldn’t I disdain her for failing me? Thankfully, she still served some sort of purpose, even in death. She could never be a mother, but I made sure she served as a convenient excuse.”

“She... would have been twice... twice the parent you were,” Aldric spat out between coughs.

The look of amused pity Lord Dengarius gave him made Aldric hesitate. He almost looked like he was trying not to laugh. What the hell was he hiding?

“You still don’t get it? Not even you are this stupid, surely? She wasn’t your mother, you fool. She and your half sibling died during childbirth.”

Aldric’s frantic struggles abruptly froze, his blood turning to ice. “What... what did you say?” he barely managed to whisper.

Now Aldric’s father really did laugh. “There it is! Gods, your face is perfect! How does it feel, Aldric? To have your life ripped out from under you? To learn that you were not only worthless, but not even fully noble! Maybe now you see what it’s like to have your world turned upside down without warning? It’s only fair after the troubles you’ve put me through.”

Aldric couldn’t breathe. That couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. The idea of his mother had been the only thing that kept him sane, that made him able to bear the weight of possessing the family name of this demon.

Aldric’s next words were strained with fear. “Who... who is my mother?”

His father casually waved a hand in the air. “A commoner. No one of note. A temptress aiming above her station and capitalizing on my moment of weakness. That Rendala bitch was too young to be any fun beyond the one time, after all.”

“Forgive me, my lord!” Nora abruptly cried out. She collapsed to the floor with her forehead pressed against the ground in a display of complete submission. She sounded horrifically terrified to Aldric. “All of this results from my weakness and loose morals! Had I not acted in such a repulsive and debased manner towards you, you never would have taken me to —!”

Nora’s words were cut off when Lord Dengarius snarled and slammed his heel into the back of her head. Nora cried out as a sick crunching noise was followed by a spurt of blood from her face.

“Enough, whore! I told you to never speak of that again! I know well that this devil spawn is your fault. Be grateful for the mercy you have been shown in being allowed to still serve!”

Nora whimpered more apologies through what was likely a crushed nose as Aldric’s father continued to push her head down with his boot, sneering the whole while. Then he abruptly sighed and released her, snorting in derision.

“This pitiful creature is your mother. My wife had a stillbirth, but she’d still been seen in public while pregnant. I couldn’t have her dragging our name even deeper through the mud, so I made her life useful by saying she died giving birth to you. Not exactly glorious, but I could make it work. As long as I had a ‘legitimate’ son with magical talent who recognized the needs the Dengarius family had of him, everything would have been fine.”

Aldric’s father scowled at him, his hatred obvious. “But no. I got you. A sorcerer is pathetic enough, but to have such a miniscule capacity for magic... well, that’s what I get for falling prey to the charms of a common woman. A half-blood son is worth half a son, it seems.”

Aldric said nothing in response. What could he say? His world was crumbling around him, and he could only watch as it happened. That tiniest spark of hope that he’d kept hidden in his heart had convinced him through the years that maybe, just maybe, someone in his family had once loved him. Aldric looked to Nora, whose gaze briefly flicked to his own. He saw in those eyes both terror and revulsion. Within a heartbeat, she looked away and back at the floor in front of her, whispering more platitudes and apologies to her master.

To have his own mother so close at hand and yet never make herself known, to go all these years with no sort of temptation to tell him or even hint at the truth, to not even be able to look her own son in the eye with any emotion other than a blank stare or open disgust, caused that tiny little spark Aldric had so desperately held onto to fizzle out into nothing.

Aldric couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a definite fire of madness in this woman’s eyes. Gods above knew what sort of things his father had done to her to make her this subservient. He saw, in that moment, what his father had likely wanted Aldric to become.

Ignoring his son still shackled to the floor, Lord Dengarius stood and lightly kicked at Nora to get her to stand as well, like he was disciplining a dog.

“The agent from Verona should still be outside. Gods willing, we can convince them that the empress was attacked but was later saved by healers. That must be worth something to them, at least. I have given everything for this chance. Our new start in Verona will not be undone by this... this thing. The coming war will grant us opportunities to earn ourselves enough accolades to make up for this blunder.”

He turned to give one last hate-filled look at his son before turning back to the door. “Our odds can only improve without that tagging along. Come, Nora.”

The maid obediently shadowed him without question or objection, paying no heed to the blood that liberally poured from her nose. Aldric said nothing to either of them. Why would he? What did you say to people who viewed you as dirt? Begging or pleading with them wouldn’t do anything. Aldric could have honestly stayed there for the rest of eternity, shriveling up into nothing and forgetting the world outside even existed.

Both master and servant stood near the doors for a few moments as they surveyed the situation outside, clearly waiting for their opportunity. Then, they dashed away and out of sight, leaving their son still bound to the floor in the now empty room. Neither of them looked back.

~~~

ALDRIC LOST TRACK OF how long he lay there. He supposed time didn’t really matter when you felt like the life you knew was already over. The sounds of fighting slowly died down as time passed, not that Aldric could really do anything about them. He wondered if Zasia and Miraea were all right. He also wondered, against his will, what they would think of him if they ever learned the truth.

It was a long while before the royal guard had finally made their way into the room and found him there, manacled to the floor and crying silently. He must have been a sorry sight, because none of them so much as waved a spear at him or even said a word. The one mage among them had simply broken his restraints and handcuffed him, then escorted him to the dungeons for questioning. The luxurious great hall from earlier was now a ruin, filled with evidence of fighting, spell slinging, and more than one pool of dried blood. Aldric took it all in passively with a blank face, not really able to feel much of anything anymore.

Hours upon hours of questioning took place after that, only broken up by even more hours spent sitting in a prison cell. They clearly knew who had been behind the coup and highly suspected Aldric of being a part of it. They just couldn’t determine what he could have done to assist his father. Aldric felt like someone else was driving his body for him, answering every question to the best of his memory and not caring if anyone believed him. They must not have, because after every interrogation, he was taken back to his cell to spend the night until the next questioning.

There were no windows in the dungeon, which made it very hard for Aldric to determine how much time had passed. It didn’t help that he mostly sat in the middle of the cell and did absolutely nothing, staring blankly at the wall until he was called upon again. They provided him with food and drink, but Aldric had little interest in any of it. Even as it became obvious that he was losing weight, he felt little concern for himself. He didn’t truly sleep, only occasionally passing out as his body inevitably gave out for a few hours at a time. Weeks passed like this. Eventually, they must have decided that he truly had nothing to do with the plot. By the time a month had passed, in Aldric’s rough estimation, he was abruptly and jarringly released back into the world.

Aldric’s first true memory after that ordeal was finding himself standing in front of the castle gates at midday. He was still dressed in the party clothes Zasia had bought for him, though they were little more than tattered rags after spending so long in a dungeon. People walked about the market square in front of the outermost castle gates like on any other day, simply going about their business as usual. It was almost unreal how unfamiliar the outside world looked to Aldric now.

The gate guards eventually got sick of waiting for him to stop staring stupidly and shooed Aldric off, back into a world he wasn’t sure he understood anymore. Everyone he passed by on his way through the city looked at him like a vagrant, repulsed by his poor condition and eerily dazed demeanor. Then they would recognize the family crest on his ruined clothing, which was insultingly still legible despite his awful state. That was when the whispers would start. Aldric picked up hints of “traitor”, “coward’s blood” and “worthless”, all used to describe both him and his father.

Aldric needed to go somewhere. He had a house, of course, but had no desire at all to go there. He needed to find someone he could trust, even if only as an escape from all the hateful eyes that followed him wherever he went. Someone who might help him put the broken pieces of his soul back together. He could only think of two people.

As Aldric walked by manor after manor in the city’s noble quarter, he saw an astonishing number of guards and security present at each of them. From what Aldric had overheard from the mutterings on the streets, several nobles had died during the feast, including some heads of households. Every noble house was in a state of panic and paranoia. House Glory and House Meltisse were no different. They had far more to fear as prominent noble houses from veronian agents and had taken the security to an all-new level.

Aldric couldn’t even get to the front gates of the Glory manor before he was stopped by patrolling guards. Worse, these were not the guards who usually recognized Aldric and let him pass. This was a completely new set of staff, likely out of fear of plants from Verona, and none of them would even give Aldric the time of day. No matter how much Aldric bargained, pleaded, or threatened, they wouldn’t budge or even send a message to Zasia for him. Her family had never liked Aldric or his relationship with their daughter, and now they had the perfect excuse to keep the two apart indefinitely. House Meltisse was even worse. Aldric didn’t even get a single word out before he was unceremoniously “escorted” off the premises. When he’d tried to go back and explain himself, they’d leveled spears at him as a final warning. Sneaking in to either manor would likely only lead to Aldric’s death. If they had this much security outside, then inside would be even worse.

It was getting dark as Aldric sat on a random bench across the street from the noble quarter, having been unable to come up with any sort of plan. He was well and truly on his own, abandoned by society and left to rot. He had no family, no friends, and no way to fix his situation. Both Zasia and Miraea were likely being kept under a polite version of house arrest until things blew over. The only thing Aldric had to do now was go to school, which seemed entirely unappealing. The bullying had been bad before, but it might be an all-out lynching now.

So... what was he going to do?

Realizing that he wouldn’t get any help this time, Aldric gave up and set off for the Dengarius manor. He hated the idea of going back there, but he was out of options. Sleeping in the streets wasn’t safe, and there would at least be some food there. He could lie low for a few days and try to contact his friends again later. He’d just need to shoulder his own burdens until then.

Aldric was in no hurry to return, so it was well into the night by the time he stumbled aimlessly through the dilapidated front gates to the manor. The idea of sleep sounded almost irresistibly appealing right now. His stay in the dungeons had not done his constitution any favors. It was probably the best thing he could do for himself right now, to recover and get his head back on straight. As Aldric trudged his way up the front steps, he decided his plethora of problems could wait until tomorrow, once he’d had his first full night of sleep in a month.

That was when he saw the sign nailed to the manor door.

This property has been seized under the authority of Her Majesty the Empress and the Department of Land Ownership of Redan. The Office hereby temporarily claims the property until the passing of ownership has been finalized by the required legal authorities and processes. Trespassing during this time is strictly prohibited under the Empress’ law. All questions regarding the property are to be reported directly to the Department’s offices in Redan.

Aldric silently stared at the sign. There was a name written under the warning, apparently the family name that was to be taking over the property rights. The manor had been classified as “abandoned” by its previous owner and put up for auction weeks ago. The soon to be new owner was the Volus family.

It made sense. Aldric’s father had been the registered owner, and he obviously wouldn’t be returning soon. It was just a legal process. It wasn’t personal. It had nothing to do with Aldric. Gabin’s family claiming the property was likely a coincidence. It all made perfect sense.

It didn’t matter. Aldric wasn’t feeling very sensible.

Aldric’s journey through the dungeons had dulled his feelings considerably. He didn’t know what to do with them all, so he’d done nothing. But now he had to address them. This stupid sign was forcing him to feel things he didn't want to. True, this manor had been a constant reminder of his hellish upbringing. But it had also, until recently, been the source of his sense of identity. He’d never been proud to be a noble, but it was a part of who he was. This place was the manor of the Dengarius family, and regardless of how he felt about his family, this was his home.

But no. The world wouldn’t even let him have that.

For the first time in what felt like an age, Aldric felt something shoving its way to the surface. It was not grief, or regret, or hopelessness like he might have expected. It was a raw, unfiltered fury. Aldric had never been this angry. It was a physical pain in his chest, threatening to burn its way out of him with righteous hatred.

Aldric let it. He was done. The world would not dictate how Aldric lived anymore. If he couldn’t have a home, then Gabin Volus certainly wouldn’t have it, either.

Aldric didn’t plan what he did next. He didn’t have the faculties to cobble together any sort of plot at revenge. He simply let his anger guide his actions.

The lock that had been placed on the door was magically sealed. Even with his scripted lock pick taken from him, Aldric could have eventually broken through it. It wasn’t enough for him right now, however. He wanted something more violent. He approached one of the porch windows and kicked it in, sending glass shattering onto the floor of the entry hall. Heedless of any noise he’d caused, Aldric hopped through the window, grabbed one of the sharper looking glass shards, and immediately set out for the basement.

Familiar furniture and scattered decorations that had escaped his father’s desperation for money surrounded him as he walked, but he ignored all of it. He’d grabbed the trapdoor to the basement and ripped it open, descending the steps without light. By memory, he located what he’d been looking for; barrels of oil, used for the lamps serving staff would carry with them so as not to waste money on magical ones for them. These had been here for as long as Aldric could remember, but as they’d only ever had one servant, they’d never used even a quarter of the reserves. Now, the remaining ten full barrels would suit a very different purpose.

Aldric abruptly sat down next to one of the oil barrels. He took up the piece of glass he’d pocketed and began inscribing runes into the wood. He still had no light, but Aldric could engrave this spell in his sleep. All those countless hours he’d spent improving his magic technique despite his deficiencies were finally paying off.

It still took several hours thanks to Aldric’s meager mana reserves and need for breaks in between, but it was executed flawlessly. Water runes were used to make sure the oil coagulated together as tightly as possible. Wind runes ensured an air-tight seal to the barrels. And, of course, a simple fire enchantment at the bottom of the barrel would play the most important role of all.

A little after midnight, Aldric’s work was finally done. He took his glass shard that had been worn down considerably from all his engraving and inspected it. It was much duller now, but it would work. He thoughtlessly drew the shard across the palm of his hand, having to press harder than normal. It left an ugly and jagged gash that wept blood openly, but Aldric barely felt the sting of it through his haze of turbulent emotions. He bent over and traced a red line across the ground as he retreated from the basement and left the house, creating an unbroken trail of blood the entire way.

When he’d eventually left the manor and reached an alleyway at the other end of the street, Aldric paused for a moment. He saw the ruined property wall, the massive oak front doors that reminded Aldric of a prison, and the lonely second-story window of his moth —... the late Lady Dengarius’ room. Hours of work had done nothing to cool his rage, which was now like a smoldering bed of coals that refused to go out. He took in all these familiar sights and felt nothing for them.

Aldric looked down at his still bleeding hand, the trail of blood on the ground tracing a path back to the basement. This method wasn’t perfect. Aldric didn’t even know if it would work. The idea that blood could carry an enchantment over a distance was really just a theory he’d put to paper. Despite that, Aldric’s eerily simmering rage gave him a focus he didn’t normally have. He was confident it would work this time.

Aldric stooped down and placed a finger to the end of his blood trail. With a thought and a massive exertion of will, Aldric forced his mana into the blood trail to travel along it and connect with the barrels covered in runes.

“Igni kishir volmus conflagus,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

Aldric had, of course, expected an explosion, but he’d apparently done a better job than he’d expected. What he actually got was the sound of the very world itself detonating as the manor blew outward in a shower of wood, brick, and flame. The thunderous sound that flooded the late-night streets of the noble quarter was like a physical force, punching Aldric in the chest and roaring down the streets in every direction. Debris flew down the alleyway where Aldric had taken shelter, barely missing him as he dove to the ground with his hands above his head.

The Dengarius manor’s foundations almost immediately collapsed from the sudden destruction, and anything that hadn’t been instantly vaporized crumbled like broken matchsticks into the raging firepit that had once been the manor’s basement. Aldric’s family home didn’t just explode. It disappeared in the span of a few seconds.

Aldric didn’t have time to gawk, however. He could already hear whistles coming from every nearby street, signaling that the city guard had clearly heard what had just happened. Likely, every single guard patrol that night would soon be here to investigate. Aldric tried to run away, but nearly tripped onto his face as a wave of exhaustion hit him. That spell had taken most of his reserves to cast at such a long range, even with blood involved. He feebly ducked into the shadows and out of sight while he recovered, thankful he’d already moved to the alleyway.

Nearby patrols arrived on scene and began shouting orders to put out the flames, but it was a moot point. The building was gone. The Volus family would be beside themselves with fury and would be even more so after no culprit was found. No one would believe that Aldric would be capable of performing such a work of magic. The look on Gabin’s smug face when he found out would be priceless, Aldric was sure.

And yet, he didn’t feel any better. Aldric’s anger had been snuffed out with that explosion, but in its place was now an odd sense of regret. That had been stupid. Utterly moronic, even. What had been the point of that? He’d thrown a tantrum like a child and destroyed a perfectly good building and probably endangered the neighbors. Crews would spend hours cleaning up after this. The city would be sacred half to death, likely thinking this attack related to the recent assassination attempt on the empress. It wouldn’t be any easier for Aldric to see Zasia and Miraea after their families learned of this and hunkered down even more in their homes. Aldric could have easily broken in and stayed for the night, but now he didn’t even have a place to sleep anymore. What the hell had he been thinking?

As guards continued to assemble outside the demolished manor and direct fire teams to put out the flames, Aldric squatted in the shadows and began to cry. It all caught up to him in that moment, crushing his soul under its weight. His own parents hated him. His friends were nowhere to be found. He had no place to go. The world had punished him for something he’d never done, and there was nothing he could do about it. The injustice of it all tore at his mind until he felt like he might go mad.

He needed his friends. He needed someone to tell him it would be okay. But they weren’t here. Maybe they never would be again. Aldric had felt lonely for most of his life, but never more so than now.

Aldric simply sat in the alley and heaved great, shuddering sobs, the likes of which he hadn’t cried since he was a child. The noise was thankfully covered up by the sound of fire crews still working to contain the blaze. But Aldric wouldn’t have cared, anyway. His entire world was that alley as emotion after emotion rushed up from inside him and poured out with his tears like a broken faucet.

Aldric lost track of how long he sat there. By the time he’d drained himself of any feeling, he was lying on the hard ground and staring at the starry sky, his mind blank. The fire crews were gone, but the guard had stuck around to investigate the cause. Aldric couldn’t afford to stay here any longer if he didn’t want to go right back to prison again. His stomach suddenly growled in protest, reminding Aldric that he had eaten nothing since before they’d released him that morning. He had no money on him, and anything he could have eaten had been blown up along with his only place to stay. Stupid. So stupid!

Lacking anywhere else to go, Aldric made his way to the outskirts of the city and as far from the noble quarters as he could physically manage. This part of the city was mostly filled with commoners, most of whom had already retired for the night. Some still wandered around the streets, but they didn’t look like the friendly types. Realizing that he really needed to find somewhere to hunker down for the night, Aldric entered the first tavern he laid eyes on.

It wasn’t the worst place he’d seen, but it definitely belonged on the outskirts. It was a three-story building stuffed snuggly into a gap between a butcher’s shop and an herbalist’s shack, the smells of both buildings mixing terribly in the late-night air. It was made entirely out of wood that looked to have been recycled from wagons and carts, all fitted poorly together and allowing the light of the inside to escape from the gaps. Finding warmth and comfort here was a long shot with such shoddy construction, but it was better than the streets. The signboard above the door hung at an angle from only one chain, the other having rusted away ages ago. It labeled the establishment as “The Lost Duckling Inn”. Aldric wondered if the gods were making fun of him by leading him to such a place.

The night was so late by this point that hardly anyone was in the taproom when Aldric entered, which was fine by him. He really didn’t want strangers gawking at his horrific state right now, his clothes ruined and his face red and puffy from crying his eyes out earlier. A few patrons sat at scattered tables that appeared to be made of the same wood used to build the place and were just as shabby. Aldric found a corner table with only two other people nearby at their own. He needed time to come up with a convincing way to let the inn keep let him stay here and eat for free tonight. Maybe he could do dishes or something? He’d have to come up with some sort of cover story, as well as cover up the family crest on his clothing.

“Did you hear about that explosion an hour ago?” one man at the nearby table asked the other. Aldric went stiff when he heard them.

“Of course I heard it, you fool! Nearly the entire city heard it. Someone said a manor in the noble district exploded!”

Aldric really wished he could turn his ears off. He didn’t need a reminder of what an idiot he was.

“I heard some of the guard talking about it. They said someone was seen snooping around the place, but they couldn’t tell who it was. Only a few hours later, and poof! No more house!”

“You think it was Verona again? The war was just declared a few weeks ago, and they’re already trying to make a move on us again!”

“My boy is heading out with the rest of the army in two days. Says he’ll be put at the front lines with some of the commanding nobles. I even heard Dylas Caffarett will be one of them!”

That last statement unexpectedly caught Aldric’s attention. He hadn’t known that a war with Verona had been declared, but it made sense after what his father had said about working for them. That meant the empire was formally at war with both other countries on the continent. Fighting a war on two fronts was usually a good way to lose both, but Osakar had called a cease fire months ago while they dealt with their own civil war brewing in their borders. Aldric couldn’t remember the details, something about a commoner leading a revolt in Osakar’s capital, but it meant that Osakar wouldn’t attack for a while.

The empire’s troops had still been deployed on the northeastern border, however, and couldn’t just leave and hope Osakar kept their word. For Rhagia to abruptly have to switch all its attention to the northwest would require a fresh new wave of volunteers to fill out the ranks. There was likely a mass scramble to recruit as many new soldiers as possible to be shipped off immediately. Being a soldier came with steady pay, as well as boarding and food. They might even offer incentives for volunteering on short notice. Even with the obvious dangers, it made sense to join up if you were a down on your luck commoner.

Maybe... maybe down on their luck nobles should join up, too?

Aldric’s thoughts had sprung off in a strange direction. Was he really considering this now? Hadn’t he just screwed himself with impulsive thinking not even a few hours ago? It was true that wartime meant an opportunity to get paid, but he was no soldier. He was barely a mage, after all. What could he hope to gain for himself there?

Then again, many people saw a sudden war as an opportunity for themselves. There was almost no easier or straightforward way to earn a name for yourself and rise in society than by being successful in wartime. Some of the most renowned war heroes in the empire’s history had started as desperate commoners wanting to make something of themselves. As awful as war could be, it would always be true that everyone could find something to help with during one.

As he continued to ponder the idea, Aldric’s thoughts turned back to Zasia and Miraea. As things were now, it was likely that he would never see either of them ever again without something changing. Regardless of how the girls felt about it, their families still controlled every aspect of their lives until they became adults. Even then, Aldric didn’t want to be even more of a social burden on them than he already had been. They deserved someone better to stand beside them than the current Aldric, even if they would never say that.

As the tavern chatter continued around him, Aldric slowly realized that he already had his answer. When had he last been proud of himself? He’d been despised by his own family and treated as an outcast by the vast majority of his small world in Redan. He’d never even left the city before. What could he find for himself outside of all this bullshit politics and expectations? Maybe his place to belong was somewhere out there?

It was early morning when Aldric’s decision solidified into action. The tavern owner had thankfully let Aldric just sit by himself in the corner all night, the one kindness Aldric had been granted in a while. He had no way to thank them, but he would make sure he seized this chance and repay him later once he could. And so, just as the sun was rising over the horizon, Aldric left the Lonely Duckling and made his way to Redan’s military affairs office.

~~~

MIRAEA SAT ON THE EDGE of her bed as she glared accusingly at her personal maid turned jailor.

Over a month had passed since the events at the empress’ celebration, but the entire Meltisse household was still on a strict lockdown. Miraea hadn’t even gotten the chance to look for Zasia or Aldric after the party, with her father practically abducting her and whisking her away to the manor permanently. He had flat out refused to answer any of her questions about either of her friends, content to let her wallow in ignorance while the rest of the family made the real decisions. Miraea couldn’t even pursue answers with her father after weeks of waiting, since he was out on “business” almost every day.

Then Miraea had overheard servants discussing that the Dengarius heir had been jailed under suspicion of being a traitor.

Miraea was furious. Anyone who knew Aldric knew he wouldn’t do something so ridiculous. Unfortunately, only two people really knew Aldric that well, and both were being kept captive by their own families. Miraea was certain that the nobility was suffering under a harsh blow to their reputation. The events at the celebration would have scared and angered all of them. They would demand answers from the empress, asking what she planned to do about such a slight from Verona. Miraea knew they would be perfectly content to let Aldric take the fall for all of it, if only to help them feel like the issue was taken care of. If they were seen by the public as having addressed the scandal and pinned everything on a single teenager’s shoulders, they could wipe their hands of the whole disaster.

Over Miraea’s dead body.

Realizing she wouldn’t be getting any help from her family, Miraea had sent letters to Zasia in secret, using her personal servants to make it happen. Zasia was just as furious as Miraea, but equally ill-equipped to do anything about it. Both girls had put their heads together to come up with some way to help Aldric, but they only came up with weak ideas. Both frequently wrote letters to the castle’s Department of Justice, but had no way of knowing if they were in any way helpful. As influential as their families were, both girls were still young and living with their parents. It wasn’t unusual that no one was taking them seriously, especially with seemingly more important things going on.

Miraea’s bitter thoughts of her uselessness caused her frown to deepen. Her maid, Lensa, squirmed under the intense gaze of her lady. Miraea knew the poor woman was just following orders. She’d even helped sneak Miraea’s letters out of the manor. That didn’t help that she was currently the physical representation of Miraea’s inability to act. Her father had put Lensa on constant watch after Miraea had tried to melt a hole through her wall to escape in an act of desperation.

Miraea’s mood lightened, however, when she recalled the letter Zasia had sent a few days previously. Aldric was set to be released. They had no way of knowing what he’d been through or what punishment may have been levied against him, but it was more than they had previously hoped for. And, of course, they would find some way to take care of Aldric, regardless of what either of their families had to say about it.

But Miraea was still anxious. Zasia had said Aldric would be released yesterday and had claimed she would sneak out to find him herself, but Miraea had heard nothing further after that. It wasn’t impossible that the Glory family had found out and stopped her from going. Miraea also recalled the loud explosion that the entire noble district had heard late last night. Through her maid, she’d heard rumors that there’d been another attack on the capital last night but had learned nothing else. Miraea’s heart clenched when she thought about Zasia and Aldric somehow getting caught up in that. Aldric had the worst luck she’d ever seen, after all.

Miraea’s thoughts were interrupted when frantic voices suddenly came from the hall outside her bedroom. Her father had stationed guards outside her door since the incident, and she could now clearly hear them arguing with someone outside. The other voice, muffled through the door, sounded familiar.

Lensa noticed the commotion and opened the door a crack to take stock of this newest situation, then shouted in fright and jumped away from the door just before it violently blew inwards. The heavy oak door slammed into the wall from the force of the blast, and Miraea could feel the remnants of wind mana billowing into the room from a spell.

From out of nowhere, Zasia stormed into Miraea’s room. She was usually so stoic and well put together, but right now, she looked on the brink of a manic breakdown. Zasia ignored the guards she’d just blown over and immediately ran up to Miraea, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her roughly.

“Have you seen Aldric?” she shouted. She sounded scared out of her mind. “Please tell me you’ve seen him!”

“What?” Miraea asked, completely taken aback. “I don’t —”

“HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?” Zasia screamed. Miraea could only shake her head in mute denial, completely overwhelmed by her friend’s maddened terror. Zasia abruptly went slack, her face going blank and her hands dropping back to her sides. It was like Miraea had just told her the world was ending and they were all going to die. Zasia collapsed onto her butt, heedless of her dress tearing as she did. The guards had by now recovered and shouted at her to leave. They made to grab her, but Miraea angrily cast light magic that blinded all of them and forced them to back off.

“Zee, what happened?” Miraea asked quietly. She carefully approached her friend the same way one would a skittish cat. “What happened to Aldric? Did you see him?” Zasia finally looked up at Miraea, and the devastation in her eyes froze Miraea’s blood to ice with a sudden fear.

“That explosion last night,” Zasia said, her voice deathly quiet and devoid of hope. “It was the Dengarius manor. The entire building is gone. It was destroyed by magic. A witness said they heard a window shatter and saw a young man break in last night, but never saw him leave. The guards assumed he was killed in the blast.”

Miraea couldn’t breathe. There was no way. Aldric wouldn’t... he’d been in a bad place mentally, surely, but he’d never do something like that. He would have sought them out first, surely? There was no way.

Zasia’s next words came out as broken sobs. “I went to find him yesterday, but never did. I was an idiot and assumed he just needed time to himself. When I tried to go out again this morning, one my family’s guards let slip that Aldric had come to our manor but was turned away. I broke out after that and searched on my own. When I asked your guards about it, they said they drove him off as well. He hasn’t been seen since. I’ve looked everywhere for him, but I just can’t find him. The gate guards never saw him leave the city.”

The tears threatening to overflow in Zasia’s eyes finally did, streaming down her face. “I think he... he thought we abandoned him, Miri. He thought he was alone and out of options, so he.... he really....”

The rest of Zasia’s words were a jumble of incomprehensible sputters and sobs, but Miraea was no longer listening. At some point, she’d collapsed onto the floor with Zasia, who was now bawling inconsolably into Miraea’s chest. Zasia’s words bounced around in Miraea’s skull, echoing endlessly like an accusation.

These last months, Miraea had begun to feel like a whole person, like her heart was finally beating for the first time. Now, she could only hold her friend and silently weep as that same heart shattered into pieces.

Chapter 6

JOINING THE RHAGIAN military had been shockingly easy.

Aldric had concocted all sorts of excuses, including a fake name, lying about his age, and even hiding the fact that he was a sorcerer. The fake name was for obvious reasons, and Aldric’s age of sixteen was technically two years younger than the required enlistment age. Aldric also feared that if he brought up his magical talent, it would raise questions about his identity. Magical commoners weren’t impossible, but it was extremely rare, and Aldric wanted everyone to assume as little about him as possible. No military would enlist someone from a family of traitors only a single day after letting him out of an imperial prison.

As it turned out, none of that ended up mattering.

With the sudden attack by Verona and a rushed declaration of war immediately after, the Empire had been caught completely flat-footed. Aldric had underestimated just how desperate Rhagia was to field new soldiers that weren’t already positioned near Osakar. High command was shoveling them from the office in the capital to the front lines as fast as they could manage. It wouldn’t be long before they ran out of volunteers and started needing mandatory drafts just to fill up the ranks. Aldric hadn’t even spent a full day at the recruitment office before he was assigned a position and given his first orders; to report to a border town in the northwest on the front lines of this newest conflict.

Aldric had been stationed in the town of Ithra, just south of the border with Verona. It had once been a prosperous if somewhat small town that was a popular stop-over for traveling merchants coming to or from the Empire. Now, it had been completely rebuilt from the bottom up as an impromptu military fort, complete with a palisade and watch towers.

The town itself was at the edge of a series of cliffs that overlooked a wide valley of farmland. The position gave it excellent tactical awareness of the surroundings and natural fortifications. Because of this, laws had been put in place ages ago that this place would serve as a military outpost during times of war. Anyone living within the town was now conscripted into helping around the newly built fort, though they were required to be paid a wage equal to what they would make otherwise in their normal occupations.

That was the official reason, anyway. Aldric was pretty sure that Ithra being a wealthier town than most had a lot to do with it as well. The officers would have complained if they’d been expected to stay anywhere less off. Officers in the military needed to be of the nobility or at least sanctioned by them, so most were obviously used to easier living than most. Several of the larger houses had been turned into barracks for the lower enlisted, but the manors were all occupied by noble officers. Aldric could see on the faces of several of the townsfolk that they weren’t thrilled about being kicked out of their homes and thrown into a small encampment outside of town, but none of them could argue about it.

Despite all that, Aldric had at first been ecstatic when he’d received his orders. There was no better place to make a name for himself than right at the brunt of the fighting on the front lines. The entire wagon ride there, Aldric had passed the time imagining the millions of new opportunities he would have to win prestige, as well as relishing in the newfound freedom that he’d never felt before in the capital.

But Aldric had forgotten one important thing; new recruits, especially those pretending to be commoners with no magical affinity, didn’t get the glorious jobs.

Aldric’s previous optimism and hopefulness from two months ago had died pretty quickly. He was a camp runner, which was a very generous way of saying that he was an errand boy for the noble officers, mostly running messages back and forth across the fort. With no recorded family history, no previous military service, and no combat training, it had been the only available option for him. The especially galling part, however, was that he couldn’t see a way out of it.

Aldric knew he needed to advance in rank in order to achieve his goal, so he’d gone the standard route of just doing his job well. He was consistently on time with his messages, and never once made a mistake. He’d even delivered a few for Field Commander Caffaret. None of it had mattered, and Aldric quickly realized that it was by design.

The system had been put in place to ensure that ascending the ranks as a commoner would be harder and take longer than ascending as a noble. Even the lowest of nobles started as noncommissioned officers, and even that could be waved with a recommendation from another noble with military experience. It put them on the path to promotion much sooner than commoners and ensured that any new officer slots available were long since claimed by the time a commoner worked up the ranks. Aldric was almost tempted to mention his heritage, but that would cause problems, chiefly that he’d lied about his identity when enlisting and that he was the son of a traitor. This was just yet another obstacle Aldric would have to overcome somehow.

Thankfully, every soldier, regardless of rank, took part in physical and combat training until they passed a final exam. Some nobles got out of this either through having prior experience or by being in non-combat roles, but everyone needed at least three works worth of training. Aldric had been disappointed to learn that he would only get less than a month of training, but then he learned you could keep taking classes indefinitely until you took your final exam. So that was exactly what he did.

“Keep moving, Gurdis! Don’t give him a chance to rush you!”

The drill sergeant’s words came too late to Aldric’s ears. He still wasn’t used to the fake name he’d registered with, so he was slow to react to his sparring opponent’s sudden attack. The other man, Private Kredig, swept his practice spear at Aldric’s legs and forced him to back off. Aldric awkwardly thrust his own spear at Kredig’s head, but the more experienced soldier easily batted it aside before striking out at Aldric’s hands. The hard wooden practice weapon cracked painfully against Aldric’s knuckles and forced him to drop his own weapon. Kredig moved in for what likely seemed an easy win, a smirk already on his face.

“Don’t get cocky, Kredig!” the sergeant called out in warning, but it was too late.

Aldric’s wooden backup knife was already in his hand as he rushed toward Kredig, ducking under his spear thrust and getting inside the longer weapon’s reach. Kredig did exactly as he should, dropping his spear once he realized it wouldn’t do him any good and reaching to control Aldric’s knife hand, but he wasn’t fast enough. Aldric ducked Kredig’s grab and hooked his knife behind the man’s knees while shouldering him in the sternum. The levering action sent Kredig toppling onto his back, but if this had been a proper fight, Aldric’s knife would have cut the ligaments in Kredig’s leg.

“Right leg is lame!” the sergeant called out once he realized the same. Kredig’s right leg went limp as he pretended to be wounded, but he kicked out with his left to try to catch Aldric in the jaw. Aldric had expected the desperate attack and caught it under his arm, then raked his knife across Kredig’s Achilles tendon before jabbing it hard into the thigh.

“Left leg is lame!” the sergeant called out again. Kredig at least had his knife out now, but he couldn’t do much with both legs disabled. With nothing left to stop him, Aldric easily mounted Kredig and performed a simple disarm on the man’s blade. He then pinned the Kredig’s arms under his knees as he pretended to shove his knife up into the bottom of Kredig’s jaw, where it would have pierced the palate of his mouth and entered his brain.

“Break! Gurdis is the winner!” the sergeant declared. The other soldiers that had gathered to watch the spar broke out into a mix of cheers and groans as money changed hands. Aldric got off Kredig and helped him to his feet. The other man looked annoyed but didn’t complain.

“You’re a damn sneaky bastard with a knife, aren’t you?” he muttered as he shook Aldric’s offered hand. “Your spear work still sucks, though.”

Aldric only nodded, out of breath. Kredig was right. He was only passable with a spear. Which was unfortunate, because the only primary weapon a commoner was allowed was a spear. Aldric had quickly realized that a knife felt better to him, however. It was a clever fighter’s weapon, able to slip through an opponent’s guard and bite at any exposed weaknesses. The only thing a spear felt good for to Aldric was thrusting in formation. Not that he had any actual combat experience to draw on. He was determined to do everything he could to learn every weapon at his disposal, however.

Aldric didn’t just take part in a daily training session. He took part in as many sessions as he could fit into his day while still fulfilling his duties as a camp runner. He wasn’t required to do that, but there was no rule saying he couldn’t. When he wasn’t running messages, he was training in the yard with the other recruits. Things like eating, sleeping and socializing were mere afterthoughts to Aldric as he put everything he had into making sure he could take part in the fighting the moment he got the chance to.

Because of the constant training, the endless running around with messages, and a much leaner diet than a noble would typically be used to, Aldric had picked up some muscle. He could already push over bigger men like Kredig in a spar. Rumors were spreading amongst fellow soldiers that Aldric was just a try hard, but he ignored them. It wouldn’t be the first time he was criticized for trying his best when everyone expected him to just give up. Anytime their taunts would start to get to him, Miraea’s words would echo in his mind.

You’re at your best when you’re struggling, Aldric.

“You there, Private! Run this message to Commander Caffaret!”

A random officer suddenly barged into the sparring circle and tossed a rolled-up parchment at Aldric, not even looking at him as he turned and left. It was treatment Aldric was used to by now, but he still scowled as he handed his practice weapons off to the next sparring participant and raced off with the message. The faster he got this done, the faster he could get back to training.

Then Aldric slowed to a stop as the officer’s earlier words caught up with him. A message for Commander Caffaret? Interesting...

There was one more benefit to being a camp runner, one that no one would have suspected Aldric of taking advantage of. The messages he was delivering were intended only for the eyes of the person they were addressed to. That meant that most were sealed magically, using a rune script to keep the contents locked securely or at least alert someone to the fact that the message had been opened.

For a sorcerer, even one as weak as Aldric, the rune script was child’s play.

Aldric checked to make sure no one in the camp was looking his way before quietly ducking into a large nearby tent. Seeing that no one was inside, he hastily took out the message and broke the enchantment, breaking the seal with only ten seconds’ worth of focusing his mana. He hadn’t slacked on his magical practice, either, even if he had to do it in secret.

He carefully rolled out the scroll, careful not to wrinkle it or give any evidence that it had been opened, and laid it out on the ground. It was immediately obvious to Aldric, if only because he had done this dozens of times, that this was a situation report from a division currently out at the front in active combat.

“Third platoon retreated to rally point C and then moved to flank the enemy reinforcements...” Aldric mumbled aloud as he read, tracing out the orders on the included a map of the front. “Now why did he do that? Maybe because they’re the closest? Or is there something I’m missing...?”

Tactics and battle strategy were something a camp runner could never hope to learn. If you couldn’t earn it on the battlefield, then the only place to learn was at a military academy. Of course, only nobles would be allowed into prestigious places such as that. If Aldric was going to make a name for himself, he’d likely need to lead his own soldiers at some point, or maybe make a strategic decision that got him noticed. Even if he’d never had a chance to learn legitimately, however, that didn’t stop him from sneaking peeks at the notes of those who already had and learning everything he could from them.

Most of it had been completely foreign to Aldric at first, but he’d slowly gotten a handle on the terminology and references through context clues and checking multiple messages. He’d even made a game of reading an update message from the front, taking it to the officer in charge of that division, and seeing if he could guess what their responding orders would be. Based on whatever reports came back after the orders were given, Aldric could decide if the used strategy had been sound or not. This didn’t make him a genius strategist by any means, but it served as a solid foundation for what he could learn in the future.

Aldric chuckled lightly to himself as he rolled up and resealed the new report, having finished his analysis. It was bizarre how he felt about his current situation. Despite how constraining and often frustrating it felt to struggle to move up without knowing how, it was also oddly satisfying. No one here knew who he was or who his family was, so they had no cause to judge him based solely on that. Even if the deck was stacked against him, it wasn’t impossible that Aldric could advance. He wasn’t being denied what he wanted because of his family, but because he just needed to work hard. At least, that’s what he hoped. There was likely a reason Aldric could count the number of epic stories of commoners becoming war heroes on one hand.

Aldric pocketed the message and hurried to finish delivering it, whipping open the tent flap and stepping out. Then he bounced off something hard and fell back onto his butt. He was about to tell the magically appearing person off, but his words died when he saw who it was.

Field Commander Dylas Caffaret looked down on Aldric with a look of obvious dislike. He was handsome and fair-haired, with ruddy brown eyes and a cleanly shaven face, as per military code. He was also surprisingly young, likely in his mid-twenties and far younger than most commanding officers would be.

But he was also a Caffaret, one of the Four Great Houses of Rhagia. That alone had surely opened more than a few doors for the young man.

“What the hell are you doing in here, soldier?” a large officer bellowed from behind the commander. Aldric recognized him as Captain Rimult, the officer in charge of supply and requisitions. He marched forward and cuffed Aldric hard across the face, sending him sprawling. Aldric didn’t have time to answer or say anything in his defense before Rimult kicked him hard in the side, causing him to wheeze.

“How dare you do such a thing to the field commander! What are you even doing in here? I should put you in the stocks for the rest of the day!”

Aldric tried to suck in air, but failed when Rimult continued kicking him viciously. The blows finally and abruptly ended when a calm voice said, “Enough, Captain. You’re going to kill him.”

“My lord, I apologize for this commoner!” Captain Rimult said, voice thick with anxiety. “I didn’t know he would be in here. I will see that he is punished immediately!”

“I believe you just did that, Captain. Be silent.”

Aldric coughed roughly as he tried to get his breathing back under control. He hacked and spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto the floor, holding his likely broken nose from where Rimult had gotten a shot in on his face.

“Get up, Private,” the commander ordered lazily. Aldric struggled to comply, his legs shaky as vertigo hit him. He couldn’t even stand upright all the way without his ribs screaming at him in pain. He looked through a quickly swelling eye at the commander, who looked back with a face of bored indifference.

“Private Gurdis,” Commander Caffaret said. He likely picked up the fake name from Aldric’s uniform. “And what, pray tell, are you doing in here?”

“Apologies, sir,” Aldric slurred. “I have a message for you, sir. I couldn’t find you, so I started searching nearby tents.” That was a limp excuse and Aldric knew it, but it was a hell of a lot better than what he’d actually been doing in here. Even as he’d been getting back up, he’d covertly reworked the rune diagram on the message to seal itself. When it finished, he limply held it out to the commander.

Commander Caffaret took the crumpled and slightly bloody message with obvious distaste, holding it out by two fingers like a dead rat. “I have a secretary for a reason, Private. Did you speak with her at all?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I’d say you deserved that. Be grateful it wasn’t worse. Get to the healer’s tent so you can stop bleeding all over my fort. “

Aldric held did his best to hide the frustration from his face as he replied coolly, “Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed, Private.”

Hearing that, Aldric quickly weaved his way past the commander and the other officers who were just behind him, all of them glowering death at Aldric. They’d likely been about to start a meeting, but Aldric didn’t stick around long enough to find out. They looked like they wanted another reason to beat him and impress their precious commander.

The entire way to the healer’s tent, Aldric’s mood was dark and stormy. His earlier rosy thoughts on his ability to work his way up without the weight of his family name around his neck were shattered in the span of a few minutes. Aldric couldn’t escape noble influence even all the way out here.

Thankfully, Aldric was already familiar with the healer’s tent. His constant drilling and pushing his body to its limits had taken a toll on him more than once. As a result, he frequently visited the healers for bruises, sprains and blistered palms and feet. Healing that normally would have cost an arm and a leg was now being offered to all soldiers for free, provided you could get someone to see you in time. Aldric might as well capitalize on it.

The moment Aldric opened the tent flap, a wave of nauseating smells assailed him, followed quickly by the chilling sounds of wounded men moaning in agony. Aldric just barely dodged a rushing healer, pushing a wheeled bed that was carrying a man who was missing half of his face. Other soldiers in similar condition were all lined up in beds, each worse than the last.

Aldric had known that the most recent skirmish had been a bad one, but not this bad. Most of these soldiers would either be going home or retired after this. Just from reading the messages he’d been tasked with, he could tell this was leagues beyond what was reported. Based on past events he’d seen, it was likely the officers involved had tried to downplay their failure in their reports.

“Um, please excuse me!”

Aldric turned around and found someone behind him, one of the healing staff around Aldric’s age. He was also struggling to carry a wounded man into the tent who looked like he couldn’t walk on his own. Seeing the opportunity, Aldric moved out of the way while also grabbing the wounded man’s other arm and slinging it over his shoulder, ignoring his own injuries as he did. Maybe if he helped, they could get to him quicker. The boy seemed surprised by the sudden help, but didn’t waste time complaining. They carried the barely conscious man over to the nearest cot before gently placing him down.

“Thanks for that,” the boy said to Aldric. Then he seemed to finally see the state Aldric was in and panicked. “Oh my gods, are you a patient? What happened?” Before Aldric could explain anything, the boy turned to an older looking man with a bald head and grey beard, frantically saying, “Master Eigard, I think we overlooked this patient. He hasn’t been seen yet!”

“Then see to him yourself, boy!” the old man practically snarled, all of his attention on the man on the cot in front of him, who was writhing in agony. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Even you’re not incompetent enough to screw up a broken nose, are you?”

“N-No master,” the boy answered. He turned back to Aldric and gestured him to a less busy corner of the tent, looking apologetic. “Right this way, Private.”

Aldric was led to another cot that had questionable stains on it, but he tried not to think about it as he sat down. The boy closed a curtain surrounding them for privacy before he sat on the cot next to Aldric, looking at him like a scared rabbit. “So, um, what happened?”

Aldric, already in a bad mood, wasn’t eager to take his chances on someone who looked like he’d never done a day’s healing in his life. Apparently uncomfortable with the silence, the boy took off his large-rimmed glasses to briefly wipe at them, despite the lenses being pristine, before pushing them back onto his face. To Aldric, it looked like a nervous tick, and one he did often. He sighed internally.

“I fell,” Aldric answered simply. Whining about his treatment to this boy wouldn’t do anything, and he didn’t feel like talking about it. The boy blinked at him, clearly not buying it, but thankfully asked nothing further. He simply placed his hand gingerly on Aldric’s face, his hands glowing green with the mark of a healing mage. Aldric instantly felt better as his nose realigned and his sinuses came unclogged from the congealed blood, allowing him to breathe better. His swollen eye slowly opened again, and his bruised ribs shifted a bit in his sternum as they apparently reseated themselves. Aldric hadn’t even realized he’d broken them.

The process took about ten minutes, which was normal in Aldric’s experience for extensive, non-life-threatening wounds. He did, however, feel suddenly exhausted and dizzy. Healing magic was supposed to use some of the body’s own healing processes to work its magic, so being drained after healing was normal. Aldric felt awful, though, a feeling that had slowly been building as the boy had done his work. He must not have been efficient in his magic yet.

“Anything still feel wrong? Any other aches or pains? Dizziness? Nausea? Anything?” the boy rambled. Aldric waved him off and got up, still feeling annoyed, but realizing none of what had happened to Aldric was this kid’s fault. Still, he felt terrible, and the moment he stood up, the feeling got worse. His skin quickly broke out into cold sweat as his insides churned uncontrollably. What the hell was —?

Aldric collapsed onto his back, but he barely felt it. The dark green ceiling of the tent swirled into strange colors. His breaths came in short, painful gasps while his heart seemed to beat frantically. Aldric’s head was in a fog, and he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight as he stared at the boy staring down at him from his side.

“Oh no,” the boy muttered in a panic. He quickly unbuttoned Aldric’s uniform and pulled his undershirt up to his chest, surveying Aldric’s stomach. “Um, okay, don’t panic!” Aldric wasn’t sure if that had been meant for Aldric or the boy himself, but he continued before Aldric could ask. “Yeah, okay! So, I think you have some internal bleeding. One of your ribs was cracked, and I think it may have punctured an organ. You’ll need emergency surgery, but I don’t have any tools here. Master Eigard is too busy, so... um... should I...?”

Aldric was only half listening as the world around him drifted in and out of focus. Was he supposed to tell this kid what to do or something? Wait, who was this kid? What was Aldric doing here? Gods, but he was sleepy...

The mystery boy with the glasses slapped his hands to his face, clearly psyching himself up. “Forget it! I’ll just... yeah, okay! Theory will stay a theory until you test it, right? Right!”

And with that, Aldric watched in delirious fascination as the fingernail of the boy’s pointer finger abruptly elongated several inches into a fine point.

“Oh my gods, that worked!” the boy cheered, clearly pleased with himself. Then Aldric grunted weakly, and he became serious again. “Right, sorry! Okay, this is going to hurt, so please be patient with me. Heh, get it? Cause you’re my patie — sorry, never mind. Here we go...!”

Aldric had just opened his mouth to ask what the boy was going on about, but the abrupt pain cut off his words and thoughts. It felt like someone had just torn his stomach open with a blunt knife. Aldric opened his mouth to scream but found it full of some kind of fabric. He involuntarily bit down on it as hard as he could, his pain overwhelming his normal body functions. The boy let out a small gasp but said nothing. Aldric could feel something dig around in his abdomen, which was the single most uncomfortable sensation he’d ever felt in his life, just before he saw more healing magic glowing green inside his abdomen. After what felt like days but could have only been a minute, the pain slowly ebbed into nothingness.

“Okay... okay! That worked! You, um... you should be good now. Just, you know, lay there for a bit. You lost a lot of blood, so I had to force your body to make more. You’re going to be wiped out for a while.”

It turned out he was right. Over several more minutes, Aldric gradually began to feel a lot better. When he’d regained enough strength to do more than just lay there and stare at the tent roof, he propped himself up and looked at his stomach. Sure enough, he had been cut open. His entire torso was drenched in sticky blood, but his body was unmarred save for a single white line around where his liver would be.

Aldric looked at the boy in wonder. He was smiling reassuringly, even as he held his own arm and cast healing magic on what looked like teeth marks. So that cloth in Aldric’s mouth had been the boy’s sleeve. He felt bad about that, but the boy had already finished healing the damage. How much mana did he have to spare, exactly?

“Thanks,” Aldric said. He decided it was best to start his slew of questions with gratitude. “If my liver was bleeding internally, I would have died within the hour from that.”

“Oh, uh, no problem!” the boy answered, looking like he hadn’t expected gratitude for just saving someone’s life. “No problem. It’s my job, after all. Just, um...” He trailed off while staring at the floor between them, then quietly asked, “Please don’t tell anyone?” When Aldric looked at him in confusion, he held up his pointer finger. The fingernail there was still wicked sharp and longer than it should have been. So that hadn’t been a hallucination. “About this, I mean.”

Now more alert, Aldric’s curiosity immediately seized him. Without thinking, he reached out a hand and snagged the boy’s wrist. The boy yelped in surprise, but Aldric ignored him, staring in fascination at the fingernail. The length and sharpness of it made it look odd, but it was just his nail. It wasn’t some sort of enchantment or complicated spell. It was just different. That could only mean...

“Are you able to use healing magic to change your body shape?” Aldric asked excitedly. “Just who the hell are you?”

The boy looked stricken as he abruptly yanked his hand free and got up to leave. “Nobody, private. I’m nobody, so please don’t talk about this. P-Please. Good day to you.”

“Hey, wait!” Aldric called out, trying to get to his feet and failing. The boy caught him and brought him steadily to the ground again, but Aldric didn’t care about his condition. His curiosity demanded to be sated.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I won’t tell anyone,” he said as he grabbed the boy’s wrist again. “Just tell me how you did that. I’ve never seen healing magic like that before.”

The boy stared at Aldric’s hand on his wrist like a mouse would a snake coiled to strike, and Aldric sighed as he struggled to rein in his enthusiasm. “Sorry, I guess you wouldn’t just tell me, huh? I’ll tell you one of my secrets, then! We’ll be even then, yeah? Does that make you feel better?”

The boy clearly thought over that, seeming to relax by the barest amount. Aldric wondered if he was being too forward. He really wanted to know more about this kid’s magic, but maybe trying to cage him into an agreement was the wrong way to do that.

“I-I suppose...” the boy mused nervously. “Does that make me awful to do that? To make you give me a secret just so I can use it against you if you tell mine?”

Aldric just laughed. “No, it makes you smart. Here, sit me down again.” Aldric had the boy put him back down onto the cot before sitting next to him. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“K-Kedrin,” the boy answered. “Kedrin Elmaris.”

“Elmaris...” Aldric mused aloud, the name drudging up old memories. “Does one of your family members work at the Redan Academy of Magic? The nurse?”

The boy named Kedrin nodded shyly, and Aldric’s eyes quickly went wide with realization. “Wait, you’re that genius nephew she kept going on and on about! You’re from the capital? How have we never met before? I’m from the capital too. I’m Aldric Dengarius, by the way.”

Now it was Kedrin’s turn to go wide-eyed. “Isn’t Dengarius the traitor that started this war?” he asked loudly, clearly startled. Then he seemed to realize how rude that sounded and back peddled. “N-Not that I’m implying you had anything to do with —!”

“Eh, it’s fine,” Aldric interjected, waving his concerns away. “But you can now understand why it’s really important that no one knows who I am, right?”

As awkward as Kedrin could be, he seemed quick to understand. Realization dawned in his eyes as he nodded slowly. “Right, okay. Fair enough. A secret for a secret, I suppose.” He looked down at Aldric’s now bloody uniform and frowned. “Why join the military, though? I get why you’re disguised as a commoner, but it seems an odd place to go.”

Realizing he would need to elaborate a great deal more, Aldric checked a sigh as he launched into his tale. He started all the way from the beginning, explaining his life circumstances, that he was a sorcerer in hiding, the betrayal of his father, and Aldric’s excommunication from society. He also explained his need to improve his standing and make something of himself, and of the two important people waiting for him back in the capital. Kedrin had stared at him open-mouthed for much of the story, and it took him several moments after Aldric had finished to finally speak up.

“You’re amazing, Aldric,” Kedrin whispered. It was such a blunt statement with so much genuine respect in it that Aldric felt himself blush.

“Not really,” he mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m kind of in a pitiful place right now.”

“But you’re going to do something about it, right?” Kedrin asked. “You got into a bad situation, but you’re still working to get yourself out of it, even going as far to join a war to do it. That’s... well, I wish I was that brave. Your story makes mine look kind of lame, to be honest.”

“What makes you so sure?” Aldric countered, glad to get the topic off himself. “You haven’t told me about it yet. Someone as talented at healing magic as you shouldn’t be some healer’s apprentice. So, what’s the story?”

Kedrin wore a small smile as he stared at the ground. “I’m not all that amazing. Altering my body has limited uses. It isn’t like I can wildly change myself or anything. The most I can do is what you saw earlier. Maybe a little more if I really focus.”

“That’s still more than any other healer I’ve ever met or heard of,” Aldric countered. “Healing magic is only supposed to restore a body to its previous state, not alter it. And that still doesn’t explain why you’re here, of all places.”

Kedrin looked Aldric in the eyes for a long moment, like he was weighing Aldric’s trustworthiness. Aldric felt put on the spot, like his inner thoughts were being pulled out of his brain and scrutinized. The meek boy from a moment ago now looked like a practiced politician. Aldric supposed he was a noble, even if he didn’t act like it. Then, as quickly as Aldric had imagined it, the intense feeling was gone when Kedrin nodded to himself.

“Because I want to help people,” he said quietly, like he was admitting something shameful. When Aldric looked at him in confusion, he slowly continued. “I’m not stupid. I know that I’m a better healer than most. At the very least, I’ve got most of them beat in mana capacity alone. The Elmaris family has a long history of giving birth to healing mages pretty consistently. Even then, I’m probably the most talented among my family members, some of whom are old enough to be my grandparents. It’s put a lot of pressure on me, but I realize that I’m very fortunate to have the talent that I do. I could probably easily find some cushy job as a noble’s personal healer or something, but that’s not what I want. I think it’s wrong for me to use my power only for the people that could afford me. If I can heal, I should use it on those who need it, right?” Kedrin made a point of looking around them at the healer’s tent. The curtain was still pulled around them, but the moans of the wounded and dying were undiminished. “And where would a healer be more needed than at the frontline of a war?”

When Aldric said nothing for several seconds, Kedrin looked bashful again. “I mean, it’s not some grand quest to restore my family name or anything like yours, but it’s important to me, I guess...”

Aldric was honestly so impressed he’d been rendered speechless. That was not a viewpoint commonly shared amongst other healers, most of whom believed it was their right to demand whatever they liked for their life-saving services. It probably took a lot of guts to say that to a fellow noble like Aldric, however diminished he may be. Aldric’s respect for the young man, already quite high, grew even higher.

“I still don’t get why you have to —” Aldric started before he cut himself off. He’d been about to ask why Kedrin still needed to hide his talents and pretend to be an apprentice, but he answered his own question. Healers weren’t combatants, but they were still part of the Rhagian military. If it was found out just how absurdly talented Kedrin was, they’d no doubt move him to somewhere more secluded, both for his protection and to horde his talent. He’d no longer be healing those who needed it most, just those with the most influence.

Kedrin smiled slightly when he saw the realization in Aldric’s eyes. “I’m only able to lie low now because I got my family to agree with my request. They downplayed my talents when I enlisted. The military will take practically any healer from the Elmaris family, so I’m not in danger of getting kicked out soon. Though, being an apprentice to someone who barely understands healing is grating... I have to keep coming up with excuses for why soldiers seem to miraculously lose whatever injury or illness had been beyond Master Eigard.” He looked at Aldric askance, looking worried. “So... you won’t tell him, right? Or anyone else?”

Aldric snorted a laugh before he gave Kedrin a slap on the back, surprising the boy. “No, I won’t tell anyone. How could I, after all that? And here you were telling me how amazing I am, when you’re clearly more so.” Kedrin stuttered as he tried to deny it, red faced, but Aldric just shook his head. “My goal is only about myself and my own problems. You see the problems of others as your own. In my books, that’s leagues more impressive.”

Kedrin muttered what was probably a thank you to the floor in front of him as he blushed furiously, but Aldric leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “So, now that we’re friends and all that, how does that body changing magic work exactly?”

~~~

OVER THE NEXT FEW MONTHS, it became obvious to Aldric that he had underestimated Kedrin’s talents. He was a treasure trove on the topic of healing magic. Aldric took the chance to learn everything he could about it. Kedrin was a surprisingly excellent teacher, easily able to convey topics that Aldric likely would have found overwhelming or confusing otherwise. As a result, Aldric’s understanding of magical healing theory skyrocketed in a remarkably short amount of time. It wasn’t something he could directly use, but he already had a few ideas he thought might be worth testing.

Aldric often found excuses to visit the healer’s tent and meet up with Kedrin, usually right after his training sessions were complete and he was sporting a new set of bruises. Kedrin would give Aldric healing while Kedrin got some practice out of it, as well as a fellow mage to give him ideas of how he could better use his magic. Kedrin grasped Aldric’s mana cultivation technique almost as quickly as Miraea had, and his body changing magic quickly developed further after he did. As a result, the two of them had become fast friends.

As glad as he was to help his friend, however, Aldric still had made little progress in his own goals. He knew he couldn’t train and study strategy forever. At some point, he would need to gain some sort of combat experience. But no matter how hard he worked, there was never a chance for him to step up. Aldric had been hoping that the dramatic number of casualties in the opening of this war might leave some open positions, but nothing so far had changed.

Aldric was getting impatient. That impatience showed itself in his training. He was pummeling the daylights out of the training dummy in front of him when the drill instructor ran over and stopped him.

“Alright, Private, that’s enough. You’re hurting yourself more than the enemy now.” He grabbed Aldric’s training spear before he could thrust it again and ripped it from Aldric’s weak and aching fingers. Blood ran freely from a newly opened blister on his palm.

“The empire has no use for soldiers who die of an easily avoidable infection. Get to the healer’s tent like you should have hours ago.”

Aldric groaned internally, but the man was right. Saluting, he trudged awkwardly to the healer’s tent on tired legs, realizing only now that the sun had set an hour ago and he was the only one on the training field. Had the drill instructor stuck around all that time just to make sure he didn’t overdo it? Aldric would have to thank him later.

When Aldric arrived at the healer’s tent, he realized that the usual hustle and bustle was dramatically subdued this late in the day. Likely, most of the staff were at the mess hall for dinner, including Kedrin. That meant that Aldric would probably only get standard bandages from whoever was on duty —

Aldric had been just about to enter the tent when the flap suddenly flipped open and Kedrin ran smack into him. Both fell backwards onto their rears, and the box of supplies Kedrin had been carrying scattered its contents onto the ground.

“Oh, crap,” Aldric cursed. He quickly got to his feet and started helping his friend gather his things. “Sorry, Kedrin. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” Kedrin answered. His voice was oddly nervous and terse in his reply as he collected his things. He then nodded briefly to Aldric and scurried off without so much as a goodbye. It was so unlike the conscientious and polite healer that Aldric was immediately suspicious. He snagged Kedrin’s shirt collar before he could get too far, causing the boy to jump in fright.

“And just where are you sneaking off to, hmm?” Aldric asked, grinning. It wasn’t like Kedrin to break the rules. If he had duty at the tent, he was supposed to stay there until he was relieved by the night team.

“Um, well, I... uh... well...” Kedrin floundered. He eventually noticed the victorious grin on Aldric’s face and sighed in defeat. “You won’t tell?”

“You know I won’t,” Aldric answered immediately, making a show of looking offended.

“... um, then come with me. I could actually use some help tonight.”

Kedrin released Aldric’s hand from his collar and started walking off again. Aldric followed right behind him, his curiosity now overflowing. That curiosity turned into confusion when they left the boundary of the fort, not even talking to the border guards on duty. In fact, it seemed to Aldric like Kedrin was avoiding them entirely, leading them through thick brambles just to avoid the gate checkpoint out of town.

“Kedrin, what are we doing?” Aldric finally asked, as his curiosity won out. “Why would you need to leave the camp? Are we running away or something?”

“What? No!” Kedrin shouted, then winced as he looked around for anyone that had heard him. “I’m not doing anything wrong, honest.”

“Then why is it such a big secret?”

Kedrin continued marching to whatever his destination was, pointedly not looking at Aldric. “It’s just... look, there’s some people who need my help, and I’d normally not be allowed to, but... oh, whatever! You’ll see when we get there.”

Aldric didn’t know what that meant, but he trusted Kedrin would only ever do what he believed was the right thing. The two boys walked in silence for several minutes, passing through a thick copse of trees that blotted out the full moon rising in the sky. Several minutes later, they found a large camp that Aldric had never even known existed way out here.

Then again, calling it a camp was like calling a puddle a lake. The only reason Aldric even noticed it was because he nearly tripped over a prone form that was sleeping in the dirt. When he looked around, he found several others in similar positions, none of them with either tents or beds. All of them reeked or people who’d been living off the land for a long while. There weren’t even guards patrolling the perimeter. What was this place? He’d been about to ask Kedrin, but the other boy just held his finger up to his lips in a plea for silence.

As they continued through the “camp”, Aldric noticed more details in the faint moonlight. All these people looked haggard beyond belief, like they’d just hiked through a desert. Their clothes were torn and threadbare, and most were barefoot. The harder he looked, the more he realized that most of these people were injured. They ranged from scrapes and bruises to full-on, life-threatening injuries. It was a horrible sight, but no one seemed concerned. In fact, there seemed to be no unity to this group of people. They were all huddled away from each other as if they trusted no one.

“Kedrin, what the hell is going on?” Aldric finally asked, his revulsion of this place overriding his politeness. Kedrin looked back at him with a sad look on his face.

“This is the penal squad. Some people call it the death squad. Soldiers and citizens of Ithra convicted of crimes, like theft or insubordination, are sent here to serve their punishments through combat. Though, ‘serve’ is the wrong word. These people are practically legal slaves that get thrown at the enemy without thought or care. They are also normally forbidden from seeking medical aid.”

Aldric’s revulsion doubled. This couldn’t possibly be legal, could it? He took in the sight of these people again and noticed this time that some of them weren’t just sleeping. A cluster of bodies had been piled up off to one side of the circle of people, simply left there like trash to rot. Aldric could smell the sickly scent of death even from where he was standing, and it was mingled with the scent of the still dying surrounding him. He realized in that moment that this was no military camp. This was a garbage pit for those the military had deemed unworthy. Aldric was sickened by the whole thing, and more so by how he’d never even known this place had existed.

Kedrin finally stopped walking and stooped down next to a man that looked to have lost his eye recently. The socket had been poorly bandaged, but blood and puss still oozed around the sides of it and ran into his stringy grey hair and beard. Aldric wouldn’t have been surprised if the man hadn’t survived the night.

“Daelus, are you awake?” Kedrin asked, gently shaking him. The man snorted and sprang up, flailing his arms wildly and screaming curses at Kedrin. Kedrin grabbed both of the man’s wrists and held him firmly, not hurting him but simply holding him still. He did it with the practiced ease of someone who had done it frequently. The old man continued to flail for a bit longer before he caught sight of Kedrin’s face and visibly relaxed, his legs going slack and collapsing him to the ground again.

“Kedrin, damn it, boy! I thought... I thought I was out there again...” the man named Dealus spoke in a gruff but hollow voice, his one good eye looking blankly at something a million miles away.

“What happened?” Kedrin asked. He crouched down next to the old man to be at eye level with him.

“What do you think happened, boy? We got chewed up and spit out again,” Daelus growled. “It’s always the same. Always, always...” His thousand-yard stare suddenly sharpened and looked to Aldric standing a few feet away from them. The old man took in Aldric’s uniform in an instant and scowled fiercely.

Kedrin saw the look and spoke up quickly. “This is Aldric. He’s a good friend of mine, and he’s here to help me help all of you. How many were wounded? How badly?”

Daelus shook his head, looking like a man defeated by the world. “Thirty dead. Everyone else wounded. I’m sorry, boy. You have your work cut out for you if you try to help us tonight. You’re a good lad, but it’s too much. We’ll understand if you can’t —”

Kedrin cut the man off by wordlessly putting a hand over his blood encrusted face and channeling glowing green magic into the empty eye socket. The man went straight as a board and muffled a cry as the flesh behind his bandages crawled and shaped itself back to its original form. Within minutes, Kedrin removed the man’s filthy bandage to reveal a whole eye behind them, though it looked gray and sightless.

“I’m sorry, Daelus. That’s the most I can do right now. I need to save some for the others.”

Daelus looked up at Kedrin with his new eye, an almost reverent look on his face as he grasped the young man’s arm in gratitude. “Don’t you worry about that. Everyone here knows what they owe you. Thank you, Kedrin. You’re a good lad.”

Kedrin nodded before immediately moving on to the nearest person next. Aldric recognized the look Kedrin always put on when he was triaging worst-case patients after a particularly bad skirmish. There was little Aldric could say or ask while he was like that, so he turned back to Daelus. He found the old man already looking at him with a penetrating look.

“You didn’t know, did you?” he said, more a statement than a question. Aldric mutely shook his head, and the old man snorted. “Figures. Nobody cares. Nobody except Kedrin. He spoke for you, so I’ll give you a pass, but the others won’t be as kind. They all expect the worst in people, so watch yourself and don’t spook them.”

“What is... I mean, how could...?” Aldric struggled to get the right words out as he stared at the scene before him. Daelus noticed how lost Aldric was and snorted again.

“It’s the same everywhere, boy. A penal squad is part of every major detachment of the military. Not all of them are commanded to fight, but... well, there’s nothing that says they can’t make us. And they’re looking for any excuse to kill us for disobedience. That’s the glorious empire you’re fighting for, boy. Remember whose backs these damned nobles have built their country upon. Because it wasn’t soldiers like you.”

“If I could change it all, I would,” Aldric muttered to himself, not liking how defeated his voice sounded.

“Pretty words, boy,” the old man said, apparently having heard him. “Pretty as gold, but worth only dirt. You’ll see when you get older. For every winner in life, there’s a loser who didn’t make it. This is the loser’s graveyard.”

Apparently growing bored with his talk with Aldric, the old man laid back down on the ground and curled up around himself, clearly trying to sleep. Aldric left him to it. He couldn’t argue the old man’s words, anyway.

After Kedrin finished healing the woman whose skull had been split open, he called for Aldric and moved on. He moved from person to person, checking on their condition and healing as needed. Every single person Kedrin came across was injured in one way or another and required his healing. Most could recover thanks to him, but sometimes he needed Aldric’s help to apply bandages or dressing wounds like he’d taught him to save on Kedrin’s mana pool.

Some didn’t stir when Kedrin tried to wake them, and he would sigh heavily while shutting their lifeless eyes before clinically moving on to the next.

Aldric followed in silence, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to speak in a place like this. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have known what to say. Based on what the injured were telling Kedrin about the skirmish, Kedrin’s earlier description of how these people were treated was correct. They’d been thrown at the enemy like disposable weapons.

They’d been simply dumped at the bottom of a valley with no explanation and no equipment. It had rendered them lambs before the slaughter when a veronian patrol had spotted them and attacked. Caffaret’s soldiers had then swooped in and caught the veronians by surprise while they were busy killing the penal squad, wiping them out to the last man. The rhagian soldiers cheered their victory before throwing the survivors of the penal squad into caged wagons and dumping them here like refuse. From the sound of it, they’d been little more than live bait.

The more they found injured or dead, the angrier Aldric became. This was barbaric. Whatever crime these people had committed, they didn’t deserve to be treated like this. They were still people. It was just like upper nobility to see those beneath them as tools to be thrown away when no longer needed. Aldric realized he was projecting onto these men and women, but that didn’t make him wrong. He could relate all too well to the feeling of being treated as less than human.

Kedrin continued his awful work for several hours, long past when most of the fort would have turned in for the night. Every one of the living had their own awful stories to tell, and every newly discovered dead body told even more. The worst were those that were still alive, but that Kedrin couldn’t save.

Usually, those only asked to have their hand held while they slipped into whatever afterlife awaited them. Aldric had held them too, the one useful thing he’d felt like he could do. They’d tell him their names, their stories, where they were from, what dreams they’d had. They talked about anything and everything, as long as it wasn’t right here and now. Then they’d pass, and Aldric and Kedrin would dutifully set out for the next. They didn’t even have the means to bury them.

Aldric felt like a child. He’d realized war was bad, of course. Anything involving large amounts of people dying was bad, regardless of the reason. He’d felt like he’d known that, but he’d only really known it logically. He’d never seen it like these people had. It made him feel foolish to seek glory in an awful place like this. His selfish problems seemed like nothing compared to what these men and women faced daily. By the time he and Kedrin had finished their solemn task in the wee hours of the early morning, Aldric was a seething bundle of twisted emotions.

“I’m sorry, Aldric,” Kedrin muttered quietly. “I should have explained what we were going to do tonight. It may have been selfish in asking you to accompany me. I just... I don’t enjoy doing this alone.”

“How long have you been coming here?” Aldric asked, voice just as quiet. It was like some invisible force demanded they respect this place and keep their voices down.

“Since I first found out they were here. One man that came to the tent had needed healing, but he was apprehended just before he came inside. The men that took him said that he’d deserted during the fighting and fled his post, and that he was being taken to the penal squad. I knew he would die if he didn’t receive healing as soon as possible, so I followed the men in secret when they took him. That’s how I found... all of this.”

Kedrin took a shuddering breath as he surveyed their grim surroundings. “Now that I know they’re here, I can’t just leave them. I don’t care what their crimes might be. No one deserves to be left out here to rot. So, I come here every night, doing what I can until I run out of mana.”

“This is wrong,” Aldric said. “And sick.”

“It is,” Kedrin readily agreed. “It’s also perfectly legal. Per the empire’s law, each large detachment of troops may have a penal squad for disciplinary reasons. The letter of the law doesn’t say much more than that, and most nobles have interpreted that to mean they can do whatever they want with them. Most just use them as labor, but some, like Caffaret, take it to a whole new level. Penal squads often aren’t counted in troop casualties, so they make excellent fodder to preserve the main army and shine up their casualty reports.”

“And the empress knows about this?” Aldric asked hotly.

“I... I don’t know. The law existed before the current empress, but she must know, surely? It might not matter. Her job, above all, is to preserve the empire and see to its prosperity. Most nobles and the upper ranks of the military have no problem sacrificing those they see as criminals for the good of the empire.”

“Accepting it is wrong, too,” Aldric argued, but he sounded childish even to his own ears.

“Well, what should we do about it, then?”

“... I don’t know,” Aldric admitted, slumping down onto the grass next to Kedrin as they looked out on the sea of doomed men and women. “But we should do something. I’ve been fed the ‘that’s just how it is’ line too many times in my life for me to just take it anymore. I dare the empress to try telling these people that.”

Kedrin gave Aldric a small smile. It still contained sadness, but it was warmer at least. “You’re a good man, Aldric.”

“All evil needs to succeed is for good men to do nothing,” Aldric answered immediately. Zasia had been a fan of that quote, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember who’d said it. It was what she’d said when they’d first met, when she’d rescued him from bullies. She’d thrown that quote at him when he’d asked why she’d even bothered helping. Her answer had resonated with him on a deep level then, and still did.

“I’m not saying you should do nothing,” Kedrin said. “But what about your own goals? Going against noble traditions would surely hamper that. The military doesn’t even want to acknowledge these people exist. Making a fuss over it is a sure way to get some upper brass’ attention, and not in a good way.”

Aldric bit at his thumb in irritation, deep in thought. “That’s part of the problem. The upper brass just throws them away like old rags. Any strategy that gets most of your people killed for little gain is a poor one. Honestly, they’d be more effective if used as actual troops than tools. If people could just realize that, then using them as a separate strike force might have some tactical advantages...”

And then Aldric was struck blindside by the answer. It was startlingly obvious now that he realized it. He could fix both this problem and his own in one fell swoop. Maybe. It wouldn’t be easy, granted, but it would be worth trying, surely? It would just take courage, guts, and a healthy dollop of luck to pull off.

“I’m at my best when I’m struggling, huh...?”

“What?” Kedrin asked, confused, but Aldric ignored the question. Contrary to their earlier conversation, he had a grim smile plastered on his face as he asked his own question.

“So, what would one have to do to get thrown into the penal squad?”

Chapter 7

DYLAS CAFFARET SAT at the head of the meeting table in what was once the town hall of Ithra, now a military fort under his control. All needed buildings in the town had been converted for military purposes, and this hall was where he preferred to hear news of the war and delegate decisions to his followers. As the heir apparent to the illustrious House Caffaret, even the grandest building in this town paled compared to anything Dylas had grown up with, but it would do. Making such sacrifices was part of what made one fit to lead. And Dylas knew he’d been born and bred to lead.

Dylas swirled the swill these commoners had the audacity to call wine in his glass, barely listening as one of his officers gave their report for the previous week. His aide would write down most of it and he could review it later at his leisure in the largest manor that had been appropriated for him. That didn’t mean Dylas could skip this meeting, however. It would harm appearances if he was seen to be slacking off.

That being said, all this delegation and grand standing was tedious in the extreme. He preferred to solve problems with his own skills. Relying on others went against his nature, but he’d been raised to best use the tools he was given. After this campaign, Dylas’ ascendency to the position of House Caffaret patriarch was assured. Then, his goals would become the family goals. It was important to improve his leadership now for when that day inevitably came.

Dylas’ heart yearned for battle, however. He fondly remembered his early days campaigning with his father against Osakar, leading charges into the enemy ranks and taking more territory for House Caffaret. He felt his mana stir in his pool at the thought, like it wanted to conjure flames right now and burn everything to ash, but Dylas smothered the impulse. No, that was not his place anymore. He was meant to lead now, not fight. Unfortunately, he only had a team of ass kissers and screw-ups that were currently costing him any meaningful progress in this war.

Every move they made against Verona was met with equal or greater force. The Empire’s troops gave as good as they got, but fighting to a standstill did not win a war. It was like those Veronian bastards predicted their every move. Dylas had already had his people scour the camp for enemy agents, even hanging a few random examples to try to scare off any spies, but their misfortune in battle persisted. No matter what his officers might say otherwise, Dylas’ strategies and leadership couldn’t be in question. His tactics had always worked, so why was there a need to change them? No, there must have been something else he was missing.

Dylas startled a bit when the officer who’d been speaking took his seat again, apparently having concluded his report. Dylas made a show of nodding and showing vague support for whatever the man had been going on about, then used one of his go-to calls to action to get out of this stupid meeting.

“Everyone, our empress has entrusted us with the defense of the empire’s borders. So far, the most we have managed is to keep them at bay, as ordered. But I believe I speak for us all when I say that it is not enough to simply adhere to orders, but to exceed them. Every one of us can earn honors beyond our wildest imaginings with this opportunity the war has given us, but that is only if we are able to show our empress just what we are capable of.”

A round of head nods and grunts of affirmation were their answer. Dylas buried the smirk that almost came to his lips. These sheep were simply too easy to lead by the nose into whatever he wanted.

“I want all of you to put your heads together for the rest of the day and devise strategies for making such a thing happen.” If these idiots wanted to complain about his strategies, they could just try to make their own. “We have the finest officers in the military at our disposal, so we shall take advantage of that. Today is the day marking the beginning of our push against the Veronian menace. Do not return to this hall until you are prepared to lead our troops to glory. Dismissed!”

A round of “Yes, commander!” and applause erupted from the rest of the table at his words. Dylas smiled cordially and did a small mock bow at their antics, causing a ripple of chuckles to fill the room. Once the moment of flattery had gone on long enough, the officers began talking amongst themselves as they prepared to leave.

Pleased at another meeting well done, Dylas looked down at the notes in front of him in a show of looking busy. He didn’t need them all approaching and trying to curry favor with him again. It cut into his already rare personal time.

“Apologies, Commander. I have an urgent message for Captain Rimult.”

Dylas scowled at the interruption before quickly masking the reaction and turning to this new annoyance. It was a camp runner, a private no older than sixteen or seventeen by the look of him. Something was vaguely familiar about the boy, but Dylas dismissed the thought. He didn’t need to know the lower enlisted in any capacity other than what they could do for the army.

“You do not need my permission to deliver a message after the meeting has already ended, Private,” Dylas answered in a tone reserved for silly children and the especially slow witted. “Just do your job and return to your duties.”

“Yes, sir!” the private replied, saluting quickly before turning to the captain in question. “Message for you, Captain.” Captain Rimult didn’t even look at the boy as he lazily held out his hand, continuing his conversation with another officer.

That was when the boy suddenly wound back his foot and delivered a swift and brutal kick between the captain’s legs.

Captain Rimult had been caught in the middle of laughing at a joke, so what had once been a light-hearted chuckle abruptly became a hiccupping squeal of pain that hit an impressively high octave. He went cross-eyed as he doubled over in agony, then collapsed into an inert heap on the floor while moaning miserably.

Silence blanketed the room as all conversation abruptly ceased in favor of staring at the offending private. No one said or did anything. The boy simply nodded in satisfaction at the sight of the whimpering man before him on the floor, then immediately turned back to Dylas with an expectant grin on his face.

For once in his life, Dylas was left with nothing to say. He could only blink at the boy as his brain tried to process what had just happened. The longer he stared, however, the more familiar the boy became. This was the same boy that Captain Rimult had worked over several months ago for trespassing in their meeting place. Had this fool really done all this just for a chance to get back at a superior officer? In front of the entire fort command, no less?

Dylas couldn’t help himself. He laughed loudly. It was so ludicrous that he couldn’t think of anything else to do but laugh. This boy had thrown away everything for petty revenge? Absurd! Dylas almost respected the audacity. Normally, such an action would get one thrown in the penal squad, but Dylas had a rare moment of mercy as his laughing fit calmed down and he finally spoke up.

“One of you, put him in the kitchens for the next week, and strip his pay for the next month.” There, that would assuage Rimult somewhat and make it look like Dylas was still being appropriately stern with the boy. To Dylas’ surprise, however, the boy actually had the gall to look annoyed. Well, that was what happened when you broke regulations for childish reasons. He’d surely realize Dylas was doing him a favor and learn from it. Or maybe he’d continue to be a fool. It wasn’t really Dylas’ problem.

At least, he’d thought it wasn’t. Right until the boy took a deep breath and punched Dylas square in the face.

Dylas’ head shot backward from the unexpected hit, causing his chair to topple backwards and spill him onto the floor. His head bounced painfully off the marble and set his ears ringing. Blood poured from what was likely now a broken nose all over his face and dress uniform. Even as Dylas righted himself and stared in disbelief at the private, the boy had the sheer arrogance to stare unflinchingly right back, looking annoyed as he shook out his hand.

“There. That good enough for you?” he asked archly.

Dylas was going to kill this boy. Every fiber of his being demanded he incinerate this little monster and scatter his ashes to the winds. Despite the overwhelming fury in his chest, however, he remembered where he was and who was watching. Every one of his officers was staring at him with mixed expressions of shock and horror. If he lost it here and now, he’d forever be remembered as the field commander who was goaded by a child into committing murder. Dylas tried to speak, spit out a river of blood that filled his mouth when he opened it, and then tried again.

“PHUT EM IN DE PENAL SWAD!” he screamed through his broken nose.

The private just rolled his eyes. “Finally,” he muttered, just before he was tackled by every other person in the room.

~~~

“STEP BACK FROM THE door, you wretches! Back, or I’ll whip all of you!”

Instead of being taken to the copse of trees where he’d last seen the penal squad, Aldric was dragged to a spot just outside of the fort and bodily thrown into a cage on wheels that was stuffed full of other penal squad members. The wagon’s occupants all stared at Aldric blankly as the soldiers then slammed the cage door shut again, making the entire vehicle rattle and shake loudly.

“There, a new friend to play with,” one soldier laughed. “Special delivery straight from the field commander! Try not to let him die too quickly. You’re all useless if you’re already corpses.”

The two other soldiers jeered as they poked their spears through the holes in the cage like children taunting animals for sport, then eventually got bored and left to join others in the wagon that was hauling the cage. The wagon horses were put into motion and hauled the cage after them down a nearby dirt road. Other cages hooked up to other wagons soon followed suit. It looked like they would head off to another skirmish immediately, just as Aldric had thought. He was glad he and Kedrin had put more thought into this plan than he normally would have alone.

Aldric winced as a lance of pain stabbed through the back of his hand. He looked down at the newly marked “P” that was branded into his flesh. It marked him as a member of the penal squad, and worse, as one of their gravest offenders. Soldiers sent here usually had the chance to leave after a determined period and good behavior, assuming they lived long enough. But not Aldric, apparently. Those with a brand were sent to serve out their death sentence “in service to the empire”. What a glorious way of viewing legalized murder, Aldric mused.

Whatever. He’d known that might happen when he’d done what he did. It had still been worth it to have this chance. But that had been the simple part. The hard part was soon to arrive; not dying on his first assignment.

“We’re all going to die,” one man in the cage with Aldric suddenly muttered. He was staring blankly at the rotten floorboards of the cage with wide, distant eyes.

“We’re all going to die,” he repeated. “We’re all going to die. Help me. We’re all going to die. Help me.”

“Let me out!” cried another man in a shrill voice as he stuck his arms through the bars towards one of the mounted soldiers escorting the wagons. “Let me out! I need out! I can’t be here! I’ll kill you. I’ll kill all of you! LET ME OUT!”

The nearby soldiers only laughed at the desperate display. Two of the others in the cage, a man and a woman, got the raving man to sit down and stop screaming, acting like this was something they had to do often. The other people in the cage with Aldric all ignored the scene, looking like they were stuck in their own little worlds. Everyone had an aura of dread and hopelessness hanging heavily over them.

When Aldric had first come up with this plan, he’d had hopes of rallying these people and getting them to cooperate for the good of the group, but he saw now that he’d been dreaming. Aldric really was just another body to hide behind, as far as these people were concerned. Whatever Aldric thought about himself and his capabilities, these people had no reason or desire to care.

“Now how did you get yourself here of all places, boy?” an old man next to Aldric in the wagon asked. His one normal eye and one cloudy looked at Aldric with pity. Aldric realized this was the man Kedrin had healed that night. Daelus, if he remembered correctly.

“I punched Caffaret in the face,” Aldric answered simply. Daelus gawked at him for a moment before laughing uproariously.

“Well, if you have a death wish, you might as well punch that prick on your way out of this world!” he crowed in amusement. Then he went quiet again, just as somber as before. “Well, you couldn’t have picked a worse time, boy. This is likely to be the current penal squad’s last run, if the chattering from the soldiers is to be believed. Apparently, we’ve all gotten too weak to remain useful. They’re planning on all of us dying today.”

Aldric had expected more of a reaction from those around them, but everyone simply remained as they were, silent and grave faced. They’d either already known this or were beyond caring now.

“Ha! Look at his face, Daelus! The kid actually thought he was going to make it out alive!” the man that had calmed his fellow earlier said as he smirked at Aldric. He was lanky, with a tangle of brown curls and muddy brown eyes that twinkled with mischief. He was fiddling with a sliver of wood from the floorboards and was spinning it between his fingers with surprising dexterity. Everything about him looked shifty. If Aldric had seen him on the streets, he would have double-checked his coin purse.

“Poor kid. He’s got no idea he’s already dead,” the man said, grinning like this was all a joke to him. “It’s always the young ones that come here with hope. They lose it pretty quick, though, if they live long enough.”

“Shut up, Talus,” the woman next to him said. Her dark black hair was cut short around her ears, looking like someone had done it with a knife. She was shorter than average, likely around five feet, but she had an air that screamed a warning not to mess with her. Her coal-black eyes kept flitting back and forth around the cage under her pinched brows, like she was constantly looking for threats. They briefly landed on Aldric and seemed to measure him in an instant before quickly dismissing him. “I hate it when you talk. Your voice is annoying. If he wants to dream, let him. He’ll know soon enough.”

“What?” the man named Talus asked defensively. “I’m just being honest. I can always tell when we get new blood with more optimism than sense. They always think they can change things and save themselves. I’m just trying to let the kid down easy, is all.” He turned back to Aldric and pointed at the woman. “That’s Ida. She’s been here a while. She used to be like you. Now she knows better.”

“Enough, both of you,” Daelus snapped. “It’s not enough that you’re both miserable? Now you have to make him feel the same? Have you fallen that far?”

Aldric was surprised when both people looked embarrassed and stopped talking. It made him think Daelus was some sort of quasi-leader for the penal squad. Based on how old he was, he’d likely been here a long time.

“None of you even want to try?” Aldric asked.

“Try to what? Live in this hell for longer?” Ida sneered. “Why would we? We’ve got nowhere else to go but back to that pit in the woods.”

“You haven’t died yet,” Aldric countered. “I’m assuming this isn’t your first skirmish. If you wanted to die, you easily could have by now. Why haven’t you?”

Ida scowled at Aldric but didn’t answer, looking out of the cage bars at nothing in particular.

“Don’t bother trying to get her to cheer up,” Talus said. “That frown on her face is permanent. We all gave up long ago. If you want to try to struggle to the last, then be our guest. Just don’t expect us to help you with smiles on our faces.”

Aldric looked to Daelus for help but found only pity and hopelessness there. “Give up, boy. They’re cold about it, but they’re right. There’s no one here to save. We’re all dead men and women, just waiting for the day the gods call for us. You really should have just swallowed your pride and let Caffaret do whatever he wants.”

Aldric’s temper flared up. Once again, people were telling him to just accept the way things were, no matter how wrong it was. These people could only be treated this way because they let their captors do so. To watch them just give up on life infuriated him.

“So that’s it, then?” Aldric snapped, his frustration getting the better of him. “You all just roll over and die? Because a bunch of arrogant assholes told you to? If I die today, it won’t be because I was ordered to. It’ll be because I fought to the last with every fiber of my being! To do it any other way is stupid!”

The air in the cage abruptly seemed to dive in temperature as everyone looked at him. If Aldric had been hoping to rile up some spirit in them, he’d failed. They all looked at him with mixed looks of pity and scorn, like a child who’d just said something terribly ignorant and stupid. Talus, Daelus and Ida in particular actually seemed angry.

“Have you ever been to war, boy?” Daelus asked quietly, his voice cold. Aldric had to shake his head in denial. “Well, you still haven’t. Because we’re not going to war. We’re going to a slaughter. You just don’t get it. You don’t know the dread that grips you when the enemy first lays eyes on you, weaponless and defenseless. You don’t know the feeling of pissing yourself as the fear takes a hold of your spine and robs you of your senses. You haven’t felt the piercing of their arrows or the sting of their spells on your flesh. You haven’t smelled the blood and shit that’s spilled when men and women are disemboweled in front of you! You haven’t heard the shouts of victory from the main army, heedless of the piles of dead we’ve accumulated! You —!”

Daelus abruptly cut off his unhinged rant and snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth. He turned away from Aldric, but for the smallest of moments, Aldric had seen the crazed fear that was present in the eyes of every other person here. No one looked at him now, though, all lost in their own waking nightmares.

“You know nothing, boy. And now, you’ll die knowing nothing. Gods preserve your soul.”

Aldric sat in silence, Daelus now ignoring him along with the others. He had nothing to say in response. Daelus was right, of course. Aldric didn’t know. He could drill in the training yard and read as many command orders and strategies as he wanted, but he’d never know without seeing it himself. As much as he hated hearing it, he was still a kid to these people, a brat who mouthed off about things he couldn’t possibly understand.

In any other circumstance, Aldric would have agreed with them. But he just couldn’t afford to die here. The rest of his life, and his three greatest friendships, depended on his success. He couldn’t ever leave this place again if he gave up now. He’d backed himself into a corner knowingly, and now he needed to get himself back out while making himself stronger for it.

On top of that, he just couldn’t let these people continue like this. It was too easy for Aldric to see himself in them, to see the dark places his mind had wandered too often when he was younger. If his life had been any different, Aldric might have stayed there and been just like these people, jaded and calloused to the world, accepting his place as forever below everyone else. He needed to be to these people what Zasia had been to him. He needed to be the one who showed them they were worth something.

The question was, how? And how did he do it without dying in the next few days?

~~~

A SHRILL WHISTLE AND people screaming war cries ripped Aldric from his tentative sleep. He realized it was now the dead of night and couldn’t see much of anything, but he could certainly hear the yells of hundreds of soldiers about to do battle. He could also feel the cage he was riding in shaking violently as the cart hauling them increased its speed to alarming levels.

“Look lively, bastards! You all are up first! Try to keep them busy before they gut you!” one soldier cried out over the tumult of noise. He climbed to the top of the wagon as it rode, balancing carefully as he stuck his spear into the latch of the cart hitch connecting the cage to the wagon. Aldric only had a moment to realize what was going to happen next before the soldier rammed his spear into the mechanism and detached the cage from the cart. The wagon pulled sharply to the left as the cage on wheels continued barreling forward, out of control.

Aldric tried to stand, but was immediately knocked back down onto his butt by the rough ride. The other penal squad members were screaming in surprise and terror as they were bounced around the interior of the cage. One of the wooden wheels suddenly gave out under the load because of the shifting weight. The cage flipped onto its side, causing Aldric and the rest of the squad to tumble with it as it skidded along the ground. The sound of metal cage bars grinding against stone and dirt caused the already deafening commotion to reach ear-bleeding levels.

Aldric couldn’t keep track of which way was up as he struggled to free himself from the tangle of flailing limbs and screaming faces. Before he made any progress, the cage slammed into something solid, smashing through it in a shower of wood splinters and finally slowing the cage down. It flipped and tumbled a few times before finally coming to rest upside down, its occupants thrown into a heap.

Aldric had been fortunate enough to land on top of the pile, but when he got his eyes seeing straight again and looked around, his moment of relief vanished in the wake of heart-stopping terror. They were in the middle of an encampment. An enemy encampment, if the Veronian flags posted all around were anything to go by. The thing they’d collided with had apparently been the camp’s palisade wall, now a splintered and ruined mess.

Veronian soldiers all stared, stupefied, at the newcomers. They’d been caught in the middle of having dinner, their soup spoons still frozen inches from their open mouths as they gawked. Aldric then noticed that his wagon wasn’t the only one that had gone for a suicidal ride. Other cages filled with penal squad members were scattered about haphazardly, some having plowed into lines of tents. Most of the people in them were gravely injured, while others appeared dead from the impact.

No one moved or made a sound for a few seconds that seemed to stretch for minutes. Then, all at once, the spell holding everyone still shattered as the enemy soldiers all moved to attack.

The penal squad was slaughtered like lambs without a fight. Soldiers rammed their swords and spears into the holes of the cages, killing enemies with each thrust. Aldric quickly ducked out of the way of a spear tip coming towards his face, only to have it catch another man standing behind him in the eye. On pure impulse and hours of drilling, Aldric grabbed the retreating shaft of the spear and yanked on it hard, causing the soldier wielding it to slam his face into the cage bars and fall to the ground.

Aldric’s adrenaline filled body sprang into action. Or tried to. In reality, he tripped and stumbled under the flailing and useless others, still shrieking in horror. They were all dead if they stayed here. Having to shove a few people out of his way, Aldric made it to the cage door. The thing had been badly dented by the impact, but the mana lock sealing it shut was still intact.

Had those bastards really not even opened the doors for them to put up some kind of fight? Only a mage could open a mana lock, and none of the penal squad were mages. No one except Aldric.

Aldric had never tried to open a mana lock without some sort of enchanted instrument to help him. He’d also never done it while surrounded by screaming soldiers and the wails of the dying, either, but now was a good time to learn. Grasping at the lock desperately, he screwed his eyes shut and concentrated as best as he was able. Several people in the cage had come to the same conclusion as Aldric and rushed for the door, slamming into his back in their haste to escape, but Aldric kept his focus. He could do this. He just needed to do it how he always did. He could do this —

The mana lock abruptly clicked open and came free of the cage door. Aldric had exactly one millisecond to celebrate before the press of bodies behind him shoved him forcefully out the door and beneath a pile of flailing limbs. Aldric struggled to get back to his feet, only to be clubbed over the head by someone and knocked back to the ground. He hadn’t even seen what had hit him, but he could feel hands grabbing at him as he struggled to break free of his attacker.

Aldric lashed out with a wild punch but only caught the veronian soldier’s metal helmet on his knuckles, sending a jolt of pain up through his entire arm but knocking the man back. The soldier tried to stab Aldric with his spear, but the now free penal squad members got in his way as they shoved everyone else to the ground and sprinted away. Aldric grabbed the spear his attacker had just dropped and pointed it at the enemy. Then he paused and flipped the weapon around, his frazzled mind not immediately realizing that he was pointing the butt end at the soldier.

The now downed soldier was frantically crawling in the dirt away from Aldric, eyes riveted to the spear tip. Aldric had trained for this very moment thousands, if not millions, of times in the drill yard. He could reproduce any of the five thrusting techniques that had been hammered into him for months with repeated practice. He didn’t even need to think about it.

But he did think about it. He thought about what he was about to do. He thought about the fear in the soldier’s eyes as he looked at Aldric like he was the incarnation of death. He thought about how this soldier, this person, was a living being with a story and likely people who cared about him. All these thoughts combined in Aldric’s mind and froze his hand for a microsecond.

Then Aldric remembered his fight in the castle in Redan, when he’d hesitated to do what needed to be done and paid for it. He also heard the death screams of the other penal squad members, more and more dying while he sat here pondering moral choices. So he decided.

With a guttural yell that was more like a cry of fear, Aldric slammed the spearhead home just under the soldier’s helmet and into his throat, cutting off his pleas for mercy. The weapon did its job well, sliding into his throat with sickening efficiency and only slight resistance. Aldric didn’t stick around to see if the man died. He tore his weapon free in a spray of blood and whipped around to take stock of the situation, his mind going into overdrive as the world seemed to slow around him.

Most of the penal squad had been killed immediately, but some were still alive. None of them were working together, however. They had each tackled an enemy and were fighting the desperate fight of those who thought they were going to die, but it was only fueled by fear and adrenaline. They had no weapons and were emaciated from mistreatment. It was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed.

Aldric sprinted to the closest fighting pair and jabbed his spear through the soldier’s back, just under the left shoulder blade. The man seized up and screamed in agony as his heart was pierced before crumpling to the ground. Aldric grabbed the penal squad member that had been wrestling with the soldier and spun them around to face him, belatedly realizing that it was the man named Talus.

“Get everyone out of the cages!” Aldric yelled over the sounds of desperate fighting.

“Screw you!” Talus screamed right back at him. He grabbed at Aldric’s arms, trying to free himself. “Be a hero if you want, but I’m leaving!”

Aldric surprised both Talus and himself when he wound back and open-palm slapped the man across the face. The crack of flesh on flesh was loud even in the chaos, and Aldric’s hand abruptly went numb from the impact. Talus’ face whipped sideways, then slowly turned back to Aldric in blank shock. He’d stopped struggling, though.

“Shut up and do as I say!” Aldric roared, inches from the man’s face. “If I see you running, I’ll put a spear in your back myself!” Aldric didn’t know if he really would stab him, but Talus didn’t know that. The man continued staring blankly until Aldric spun him around and shoved him hard. “Get moving!”

Blessedly, Talus did, immediately sprinting over to the nearest cage. Aldric followed him with his gaze before catching sight of Daelus, who’d just stabbed the back of a soldier who’d been trying to skewer the woman named Ida.

“Daelus! We have to organize and fight! If we run, they’ll just stab us in the back!”

Daelus looked like he wanted to argue, but a charging veronian soldier stole his attention. Aldric stabbed the man in the side before he could reach the old man, killing him quickly. It was no easier than the first time he’d killed someone, but he didn’t have the luxury of pondering his feelings right now.

Aldric began systematically stabbing soldiers and freeing up penal squad members to help the others. Occasionally, he would free another squad member and shove the spear of a dead veronian into their hands, commanding them to fight anyone who looked like a soldier. They surprisingly complied, likely out of fear and a lack of direction rather than loyalty, but Aldric didn’t care. Whatever spine they could find kept them alive that much longer. Desperate people who thought they had nothing to lose fought like demons, and the penal squad was the most desperate of the desperate.

Shrill cries split the night as even more squad members joined the fray, grouping together and attacking the enemy in waves. Aldric spotted Daelus giving instructions just like Aldric had asked him to and silently thanked the man. The veronian soldiers hadn’t taken the time to form any proper ranks or formation, merely attacking anyone that came close to them, so they were quickly divided into smaller groups and cut down. By the time they organized a full resistance against the invaders, most of the penal squad were already out of their cages and struggling for life, swarming the soldiers like angry ants.

They couldn’t beat numbers, however. As the violence continued to grow, so did the number of enemies they faced. The rest of the camp had heard the commotion and were assembling to beat back the “attack”. Even as he batted away enemy spears and stabbed where and when he could, Aldric could see more soldiers coming to bear down on their small group of desperate fighters. Many penal squad members lay dead on the ground, and Aldric himself sported a plethora of cuts and scrapes that bled openly. This was a losing battle the longer it went on, but Aldric was too exhausted and terrified to come up with any more ideas than simply going down swinging.

That was when the horns sounded. Far off from the other end of the camp, Aldric could hear pitched fighting and the sounds of the empire’s soldiers screaming for war. The main force of the rhagian army had begun their charge and were attacking the camp while they were distracted by the penal squad. Aldric then realized the point of this ludicrous situation they’d found themselves in; the penal squad was acting as bait again.

Aldric was sure that the main army didn’t give a damn what happened to the penal squad, but Aldric would take whatever fortune the gods felt like sparing him. The veronian forces were torn between beating back an ambush or running to the real fight and surrounding themselves with allies. After what felt like a lifetime, Aldric and his squad had taken down most of the soldiers surrounding them. He didn’t know if it had been their grouping together or just sheer desperation, but they were tentatively winning. The rest of the veronian soldiers apparently decided that this ragtag group of crazed fighters wasn’t worth the trouble. They quickly began falling back, dashing off for the real threat coming from the other end of the camp. Aldric let them go and shouted for the other squad members to do the same. There was no point chasing an enemy that didn’t want to fight them anymore.

The penal squad had taken heavy causalities in only one brief skirmish, over half their number, but somehow weren’t all dead. The other squad members all seemed just as shocked by this realization as Aldric was, standing stupidly in the center of a ruined campground while staring at each other in dumbfounded silence. Aldric collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, and not just from the fighting. His adrenaline had been working overtime, but now it was all rushing out of him as his injuries caught up and reality slammed into his awareness.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself, sounding a bit crazed to his own ears. They weren’t dead. They weren’t dead! He’d fought his first fight and won, sort of. The drill sergeant had always said how the fight went down didn’t matter, as long as you won and the other guy lost. But it was too soon to celebrate just yet. They were still deep in enemy territory. The main army had sent them here assuming they would all die, so they wouldn’t be around to help anytime soon.

Aldric wanted to curl up in a ball and process the hell he’d just gone through, but he couldn’t do it while that hell was still all around him. One look at the rest of the penal squad was enough to galvanize Aldric into action. They were still gawking with lost looks on their faces. Even Daelus didn’t seem to know what to do. Any moment now, the soldiers that had left would come back with reinforcements to wipe them out. They had minutes at best to come up with a plan, and none of these people looked like they could formulate one through their fear. It was up to Aldric.

“Daelus!” Aldric called out. The old man turned and noticed Aldric, his eyes still blank but thankfully paying attention.

“Get everyone to carry the cages and line them up in front of the palisade. We need to set up a defense. We’ll use the cages as a barricade against a counterattack.”

“Why can’t we just leave?” the woman called Ida yelled from nearby. “We should run while we can!”

“We’re in enemy territory. How confident are you that you can survive in the wilderness in a foreign country?”

“I was a poacher before I got thrown in with you lot,” she answered. She was already walking towards the hole in the palisade wall. “I can survive on my own just fine! If you all want to die that badly, you can do it on your own!”

“Fine,” Aldric growled. “But just know that if you run, you’ll only die tired. A camp this large is bound to have horses. They’ll just chase us all down and kill us with ease.”

Ida stopped walking when Aldric said that, looking angry but not disagreeing. Then she whipped around and snarled at him. “Fine! What do we do then, boss? You said to get everyone out of the cages, but some of them are still injured. What do we do with them, genius?”

“If they’re alive and able to move, get them to help you. Anyone too injured to fight...” Aldric gritted his teeth as he forced his next words out. “Leave them in there. They’ll get in the way otherwise, and the cage should give them some amount of protection.”

No one spoke. Aldric almost wished they had. He hated it as much as they did, but he wasn’t wrong. They couldn’t protect the wounded and themselves at the same time. Ida looked like she wanted to argue, but she instead nodded weakly to Aldric with a haunted look on her face.

“Fine. Have it your way, boss. We can all die like one big, happy family.”

Daelus finally spoke up. “You heard him! If you want to keep your asses, then get them moving! Get into groups and get hauling. Leave the wounded in there. We can’t do anything for them.”

As the men and women around Aldric all sprang into action, Aldric stared at the wounded still in the cages. Some of them had clearly heard him, staring in shocked disbelief. Aldric looked away quickly, unable to meet their accusatory stares. He deserved them, but he couldn’t deal with them right now. It didn’t help that he’d partly lied. Daelus had been wrong; there was something Aldric could do for these people. But he wouldn’t.

Aldric patted at his hidden waist band, feeling the trump card he’d kept there. As much as these people needed it, Aldric only had the one. It was a pitiful excuse, though. He was sure the people left in those death traps wouldn’t have accepted that as an answer. Aldric shook off his dark thoughts and quickly joined in to help haul the cages, keeping his gaze away from the wounded the whole while.

He had the squad arrange the cages in a sort of half circle, with the undamaged portion of the palisade wall to their backs to cover their rear. The cages had been mangled when they crashed and didn’t perfectly fit together, leaving sizeable gaps in between. It was still better than getting surrounded, however. Aldric made sure everyone in the squad could still fight and had a spear, looting one of the nearby tents that had apparently been an armory of sorts. He’d even given a few to the injured in the cages who could still use their arms, though they’d glared hatefully at him as he did. It was the most he could do for them, though.

With their preparations complete, the penal squad waited. The sounds of fierce fighting could still be heard from the other end of the camp, growing louder and louder as the Empire’s army gained ground against the enemy. Aldric climbed to the top of one cage to get a better look, but all he saw was a mass of bodies all fighting each other. The expected reinforcements didn’t seem to have come yet, but they definitely would soon.

“Ida!” Aldric called out to the diminutive and frosty woman when he spotted her down below. She scowled up at him, but seemed to listen. “You said you were a poacher, right?”

“What of it?” she snapped back at him.

Aldric held out a bow and a quiver of arrows filled to bursting that he’d found in one of the tents. “So, you know how to use these, right?”

Ida’s eyes briefly lit up with familiarity before she frowned again. She climbed up the cage after him and take the offered weapon, testing the draw weight and inspecting the arrowheads with the efficiency of a practiced expert. She gave him one more scowl before she nodded. “Thanks, boss.”

“Just make sure you put as many of those in as many veronians as possible,” Aldric said. “Thin their numbers as much as you can before they reach us. I’ll consider that thanks enough.”

“I can’t do that with one bow, dumbass,” Ida groused as she sat down on the cage, her new bow across her lap. She looked strangely casual for someone in the middle of a war. “You can try to give a flowery speech or something, but it won’t change what’s about to happen.”

Aldric sighed in exasperation, but didn’t argue further. She seemed the type to be permanently in a bad mood. Not that he could blame her. He could now see a group of soldiers breaking off from the veronian rear and making their way towards them. There were at least fifty, easily outnumbering the group of thirty-six weakened and terrified penal squad members.

“Talus!” Aldric called down. The man had been rummaging through the pockets of dead soldiers and sharply glanced up at Aldric, looking caught.

“Stop looting and get behind the cages,” Aldric ordered.

“I’ll have you know,” Talus yelled back defensively, “that I was trying to be helpful.” He pointed to the corpses that he’d just been digging through while surreptitiously pocketing some coins he’d found. “I left a few improvised surprises for our visitors. A leftover skill from a more... adventurous life.”

Aldric was about to ask what the hell that meant, but Ida cut him off. Her sharp eyes were locked on to a line of tents further away. “Both of you, shut up. They’re coming.”

Approaching war cries followed right after her words, and Talus sprinted for the cage line. Across the way, veronian soldiers came sprinting towards them. Their screams doubled as they laid eyes on their prey, clearly believing that they were easy pickings. They all raced towards the line of cages, not even bothering to get into a formation. The penal squad all began to panic, but Aldric screamed over the war cries to be heard.

“Get ready! Do it just like I told you and wait for my signal!”

The others didn’t look very reassured, but they got their spears and readied themselves. The mob of enraged soldiers continued their charge. It would likely take them only seconds to reach the cages.

“Hold on!” Aldric called out over the roar of the enemy. The squad members were all looking anxiously between Aldric and the soldiers, as if willing him with their eyes to hurry it up. Ida was already taking shots at the enemy, and it looked like she was regularly hitting her mark, but it wouldn’t stop them all. Aldric noticed some soldiers had stopped their charge or tumbled over themselves, tripping up those behind them and disorganizing the mob further. Whatever surprise Talus had left for them appeared to be working.

“Hold!” Aldric called out again. One man finally gave in to the pressure and hurled his spear at the enemy with a cry of terror. The spear only traveled a few feet before landing uselessly on the dirt. Daelus ran over and tackled the man to the ground before he could climb the cages to run. The others all looked around themselves in a panic, clearly losing their nerve. They had to do it now.

“NOW!” Aldric screamed. The penal squad didn’t need to be told twice.

A volley of spears was launched over the cage walls and into the group of oncoming soldiers. None of the penal squad were terribly skilled at spear throwing, but with such a disorganized mass of charging soldiers, it hardly mattered. The front line of the mob went down under the spears, either crumpling under the projectiles or causing them to stop or dodge out of the way. The horde coming up the rear trampled the ones in front, tripping over them and causing a massive pileup of bodies to slam into the cage walls hard enough to knock Aldric off. He landed with a thud on the ground but was quickly up with his spear ready.

“Second spears! ATTACK!”

The penal squad gave out the shrill cries of the desperate as they all thrust their second spears through the gaps of the cages and into the mass of soldiers. It wasn’t exactly a coordinated attack, but it had the desired effect. Those soldiers who’d been mashed up against the cages by their fellows took a flurry of spear thrusts, killing a handful and wounding others. Aldric screamed for the spearmen to thrust again and again, determined to take advantage of the enemy’s confusion and bad positioning. Even those still inside the cages stabbed out with their own weapons as best as they were able. Ten enemy soldiers lay wounded or dying after a few attacks, with a smattering of others limping out of the way.

But that was all the opening the penal squad would get. The Veronian soldiers quickly noticed the gaps in the cage wall and rallied, throwing all their attacks behind breaking through the weak spot. Aldric had expected this and moved more members to man the gaps, but they were nothing before enraged and fully equipped soldiers.

After the first penal squad member fell, the rest began falling back out of fear. Aldric rushed in and began stabbing his spear anytime an opening presented itself. He took several himself, but they were all grazing and superficial wounds. Ida continued raining death on the heads of the enemy soldiers, but she was only one person and couldn’t fire quickly if she wanted to avoid hitting her allies. Talus and Daelus were side by side with Aldric, stabbing like madmen as the wave of enemies continued to crash down on them.

This was the worst part of Aldric’s plan. He was out of clever solutions or surprise attacks. Now, it was a battle of pure attrition: the anger and training of the Veronian soldiers versus the fear and adrenaline of the penal squad. The fight would be decided here.

As he lunged for another thrust, Aldric slipped in a pool of blood and fell forward onto the pile of bodies that was rapidly building in the gap. He was immediately trampled by both penal squad members and soldiers alike. Aldric blindly lashed out at anything near him in a panic, uncaring who it was. His hand collided with a stray spear that he seized like a drowning man, hauling on the spear and its wielder with all his strength. The soldier holding the spear fell awkwardly onto the spear shaft, snapping it in half and leaving Aldric with the bladed head. He quickly slammed it home into the downed soldier’s chest, then began hacking at the ankles of the other enemy soldiers.

Aldric would like to have thought he looked heroic, making a last stand against an overwhelming enemy with nothing but a spearhead. In reality, he was frantically screaming and attacking in terror, completely overcome by the moment. He was at least relieved to know that his skills with a knife transferred to a broken spearhead. He did little killing from his position, but he was certainly distracting and helped create openings for the penal squad to take advantage of. Enemy soldiers attempted to stab down at him, but the awkward angle and crush of bodies made it easy for Aldric to squirm out of the way at the last second.

As Aldric downed yet another soldier with a slice to the back of the man’s knee, he had the bizarre thought the he somehow hadn’t been killed yet. All around him, people died, but he somehow wasn’t one of them. It was a surreal feeling of euphoria and horror, fluctuating wildly between the two and making his stomach churn. Aldric realized in that moment, even with his frantic brain, that this peculiar feeling was probably how people became addicted to warfare. Aldric was certain he didn’t want to be one of them.

Shaking off the stupid thoughts, Aldric continued hacking at legs and stabbing downed soldiers. He lost track of just how many he killed. He wasn’t even paying attention to his own side’s casualties. The only thing that mattered to him now was attacking, the one method by which he could stay alive. If he was killing, people weren’t killing him.

And then it was over. Rather abruptly, Aldric ran out of legs to target. A band of ten soldiers began retreating, looking haggard and tired as they turned tail and ran. The penal squad thankfully didn’t pursue, though some threw more spears to hurry the enemy along. Many squad members lay dead in the dirt, but many more soldiers were making a makeshift wall of corpses between the gap in the cages.

Aldric had at some point rolled down the hill of bodies and ended up on the other side of the barricade. That just made it harder to believe that he wasn’t dead. He checked himself for wounds and found himself drenched in blood, but most of it wasn’t his. His only actual injuries were a long gash on his arm and bruised ribs. He stood shakily to his feet as the world tipped with vertigo, probably from when someone had kicked him in the head, and looked at the rest of his squad. They looked as stunned as he felt.

No one did anything for several long moments, simply relishing in the feeling of being alive. Then the cheers started. Only one or two, then thundering shouts from the throats of the fourteen remaining members who had somehow pushed back the reaper.

Aldric didn’t have the energy to join them, simply staring at those men and women who lay on the ground, either dead or dying. Yes, they’d won, but only barely. Luck had played its part more than anything else Aldric had done. He’d been foolish to think that he could become some sort of war hero. It was all he could do to stay upright right now. Aldric had won his first proper fight, but all he could think of was how a fight to the death was nothing more than an all-out struggle to not die.

The fireball that struck the cage next to Aldric abruptly cut off both his thoughts and the cheering.

One of the wounded that had still been inside the cage and in the middle of celebrating screamed in agony as she was immolated, her body turning to ash in mere moments. Aldric whipped around to identify this newest threat, then felt his blood go cold as it all came into focus.

A conjurer. A mage was now moving towards them. The veronians hadn’t been retreating; they’d been regrouping. A good fifty more were coming up behind the mage. He was clearly dressed like a noble officer, looking at the remnants of the penal squad like a horde of bugs in need of extermination. He didn’t even bother to get closer to them, simply hurling another fireball without even speaking the incantation.

Aldric had only just dived to the ground while screaming “DOWN!” before the fireball grazed the top of his head. He heard the spell explode behind him, as well as the screams of the penal squad members who hadn’t been quick enough to retreat. Aldric frantically beat at his head to put out the fire that had sprouted in his hair. He didn’t bother to look behind him, knowing that the entire squad was either dead or soon would be. Aldric screamed wordlessly in fury and terror. They’d been so damn close to making it out of this. They’d cheated death twice, but they wouldn’t for a third time. Not unless Aldric did something right now.

So Aldric did the only thing he could do with such a frayed and exhausted mind. There was a watering trough nearby, likely for watering horses, so Aldric quickly dove into it and got himself drenched. Then he scrambled back out and blindly charged the enemy.

This wasn’t heroics or bravery. There was only pure, frenzied fear fueling Aldric now. All he knew was that he would die, that they all would die, if that mage continued to live. He clutched the spearhead in his hand tightly as he sprinted forth. The mage saw him coming and actually smiled in amusement as he threw yet another fireball with a casual flick of his hand.

Aldric timed the impact and slid in the dirt right under the spell, bouncing back up onto his feet to continue his mad dash. One soldier fired an arrow that slammed home into Aldric’s left shoulder, causing him to turn sharply and tumble across the ground. He rolled with it, getting his feet back under him without losing momentum and continuing to run, ignoring the white-hot agony coursing through his arm.

The mage now looked mildly panicked as Aldric continued to sprint towards him like he was a demon possessed. The mage called out to the soldiers behind him, all of whom began knocking arrows and sending them Aldric’s way. Others charged him, determined to meet Aldric before he got to his target. A wall of fire abruptly sprouted from the ground in front of Aldric, but he sprinted through it, ignoring his clothes catching fire and continuing to run.

A cloud of pointed death descended right after, arrows slamming into the ground next to him as he went. Several found their mark in his thigh and arms, with one skittering off his forehead and causing blood to run into his eyes, but Aldric just kept running, his eyes locked on a now frantic looking mage.

Stopping was death. Death meant he was gone forever. He would never get to talk to Kedrin about magic again. He would never get to hear one of Zasia’s long-winded lectures about what an idiot he was. He’d never see Miraea’s beautiful smile again. He would die in obscurity like the world had wanted him to.

It couldn’t end here. Aldric wouldn’t allow it! He had to do what Miraea had said, to struggle! To struggle until —!

Then the world went black and silent as the mage’s last fireball blew through Aldric’s head.

Chapter 8

THE FIRST THING ALDRIC remembered was the pain.

It burrowed deep into his body and set his spirit aflame with agony. Aldric had felt nothing this excruciating in his life. He wondered if this was what dying felt like. Stories of people peacefully passing on into the afterlife seemed almost comical now. He prayed whatever deity was about to seize his soul would hurry the hell up.

But strangely, the pain didn’t end, only lessened. It actually lessened to such a degree that Aldric could start forming coherent thoughts again. He still felt like he was being slow roasted while naked over a bonfire, but he could finally start asking important questions. Such as, “What the hell happened?”

He tried to look down at himself, but then realized he couldn’t see anything. That brought on a whole new round of panic as he tried to order his eyes to open without avail. He couldn’t feel his body, either. If he still had arms and legs, they weren’t listening to his requests to move. Eventually, he noticed a pressure on his back that dug painfully into his spine. He tried wiggling away from it, but he only drove it deeper under his sluggish movements.

Then there was a light. It was faint at first, like a faint sunrise just cresting over the horizon, but it steadily grew until it was all Aldric could see. Aldric tried to squint against the oppressive light, but then remembered that his eyes weren’t responding. Enduring yet more agony, Aldric waited for something else to happen. It wasn’t like he could do much right now.

Aldric’s eyes abruptly snapped into focus to take in a field of stars. He hadn’t opened them exactly. They’d just started working again without preamble, like someone had suddenly remembered to flip a switch in his brain. He immediately slammed them shut, having felt like he was opening them for the first time as they throbbed with pain. He moved his arm up to shield his face, which was how he learned he now had control of his limbs again. A dull thrumming in the back of his mind slowly morphed into sounds he could partially recognize; marching feet, the rattle of metal, and screams. Aldric felt like his ears were gradually unclogging as the noises steadily grew loud enough to give him a splitting headache. Realizing that the sounds were coming from all around him, Aldric cautiously opened his eyes again to figure out what was happening.

The same stars dominated Aldric’s immediate view, but there were now people walking past him. Aldric realized he was lying on his back, staring at the sky while others walked past his prone form. They were seemingly uninterested in him or his plight. Aldric tried calling out to them for help, but quickly realized that he hadn’t been breathing this entire time. He took in a gasping breath of air, the pain he’d been feeling immediately receding a great deal as his body finally took in the essential oxygen it had been craving. Aldric sputtered and coughed as his lungs jumpstarted to resume normal function, causing his muscles to convulse and spasm randomly.

None of the Veronian soldiers marching past Aldric took notice of him, but their regalia reawakened Aldric’s memories. They were in an enemy camp and had been overwhelmed. More soldiers had shown up with a mage and attacked the penal squad. Most importantly, though, Aldric had taken a fire spell to the face and somehow wasn’t dead.

The pain digging into his back chose that moment to make itself known once again. Aldric twisted uncomfortably until he realized the pain was coming from his own arm being stuck behind his back. His hand was clutching so tightly to something that his fingers were throbbing. After a few moments of struggling to get his body back in the correct orientation, Aldric looked at what he’d been grasping onto so desperately.

It was a scroll. More specifically, a spell scroll. It was a crumpled and bloody mess, but even now Aldric could feel large amounts of mana coming off it and flowing into his body. All at once, he remembered what it was. Kedrin had secretly given this to him before he’d gone off to be part of the penal squad, having stolen it from his master. Aldric had helped him to stuff this scroll with the most powerful healing spell Kedrin could feasibly cast, using Aldric’s own developed techniques in rune inscription. Kedrin had made him bring it along in case the worst happened. Which it undoubtedly had.

He’d been keeping it in a secret waistband under his clothes for safekeeping and must have instinctively grabbed it when he realized he was about to be hit with a spell. Aldric wasn’t sure how he’d kept his wits about him long enough to trigger the scroll with his mana, but he wasn’t complaining. What kind of monstrous healer was Kedrin that even a spell scroll could bring Aldric back from the brink of death?

The screams reminded Aldric that he didn’t have time to stargaze. If he didn’t do something now, he would just die again. His focus turned to the men who were now beyond him, heading for a small circle of banged up cages containing the penal squad. Aldric looked about for something he could use and found his broken spearhead. It was warped from the heat of the fire spell and pitted from how often Aldric had been using it, but it was all he had right now.

He grabbed the makeshift weapon and levered himself up, failing a few times to stand properly. That healing scroll had borrowed heavily from his own mana pool, and he was feeling the effects. The group of soldiers and the fire conjurer hadn’t noticed him yet, likely writing him off as dead. Aldric would only get one shot, and he needed to make it count. There looked to be less than ten penal squad members remaining that hadn’t been killed or injured in the fireball attacks, and the mage appeared to be chanting a spell. If he was taking the time to do the proper incantation, it was likely going to be a big one.

A plan sprung up in Aldric’s mind as he considered his limited choices. It was dumb. Really dumb. Possibly dumber than his suicide charge from earlier. It was less of a plan and more of a hope, but hope was all Aldric had left. He wasn’t dead yet, after all. At least, not anymore.

Steeling his nerves and stuffing his fear deep down inside his mind, Aldric readied himself and sprinted forward. His balance was still off after his healing, but he ducked his head down and pumped his arms and legs for all they were worth. He whipped past the men escorting the mage, all of whom looked dumbfounded to find him even alive. They didn’t immediately move to stop him, and Aldric took advantage of their hesitation to make a beeline for their mage.

The bastard never even saw what killed him. Aldric slammed into his back with the speed of a galloping horse, his spearhead dagger plunging into the back of the man’s neck just below his brainstem. The mage was dead before he even hit the ground, a powerful conjurer killed in an instant by a teenager with a broken weapon. Aldric almost wished the mage had lived long enough to know that.

Aldric used the mage’s body as a sled to break his fall, both of them sliding in the dirt from the impact before coming to a stop. Without waiting around, Aldric began fishing through the mage’s robes with focused intensity, even as the soldiers broke out of their shock and converged on Aldric with screams of rage. The ones closest to Aldric should have, by all rights, caught and killed him. Instead, they all took arrows to their heads. Aldric spared a look back to the penal squad to find Ida, still on top of the cages and raining death on anyone that got close to Aldric. Talus and Daelus were running out from behind their defensive line, shouting commands to the others to follow and help. They bought Aldric just enough time to find what he’d been looking for.

Aldric’s questing hand closed on something in the mage’s inner chest pocket and he ripped it out, not even bothering to look at what spell was inscribed onto this new spell scroll. Aldric shoved his mana into it hard enough to give him vertigo before he hurled the scroll at the oncoming sea of soldiers. Whatever the spell was, it gulped down Aldric’s already depleted mana pool and left him exhausted.

Aldric had learned through his study of the officers in the Empire’s camp that they often kept spare spell scrolls with all manner of magic on their person when going into battle. It wouldn’t do for a valuable mage to be killed simply because they ran out of mana at an inopportune time. These spell scrolls were meant as a last resort to save their lives if they ever found themselves in an emergency. Aldric couldn’t imagine a more dire emergency than this.

An alarming amount of nothing happened for several moments, even as Aldric’s attackers closed in on him with bloodlust in their eyes. Aldric almost resolved himself to dying a second time in the same day before the scroll abruptly shined brilliantly.

Aldric’s entire world went red and orange as a deafening explosion ripped through the air and tore him off his feet. He quickly lost any sense of direction as he was hurtled through the air, landing inside a nearby tent that collapsed on top of him. As a result, he didn’t see what had happened to the penal squad or the mob of soldiers, but he clearly heard the screaming.

Aldric had lost his weapon when he’d buried it into the mage’s neck, so he had to struggle to free himself from the canvas and rigging of the tent before he could lay eyes on his handiwork. When he finally did a minute later, even he couldn’t believe his eyes.

The mass of soldiers wasn’t simply dead or burned. They were ashes. All traces of them had been blasted from existence, a smoldering crater thirty meters wide taking their place. Those fortunate enough to be further away from the initial blast were technically alive, but had fared little better. Burns covered every inch of them under their melted and warped armor. Only a handful of them still could scrabble to their feet and frantically limp away, looking at Aldric like the devil incarnate as he stumbled over to investigate the crater. What kind of rich bastard had that mage been to have such a fire spell on him?

As Aldric extricated himself fully from the ruined tent, he looked to the penal squad that had rushed out to save him and found all of them ogling him in open wonderment. It made sense once Aldric stopped to think about it. To their eyes, Aldric had gone on a heroic, if stupid, suicide charge to save their lives, died, somehow come back to life, and then cast a massive fire spell when he was supposed to be a mundane commoner. It was a little much to wrap even his own head around.

“What in blazes was that, boy?” Daelus shouted at him from near the cages. It neatly summed up everyone’s thoughts in only a few words.

Then Aldric’s head whipped back around as he heard more running boots coming their way. More soldiers, just as many as before, rounded the line of tents and stormed into the courtyard. Aldric cursed vehemently. This was not happening again! He could only stare stupidly as the soldiers made their way towards them, obviously intending to finish the tiny group.

But something unexpected happened. Every single soldier gradually came to a stumbling halt, their cries of war dying in their throats. They each eyed the massive, smoldering crater containing dozens of their comrades’ charred corpses. Then they looked at the only person nearby who could be responsible: Aldric.

Each of the fully armed and battle-ready soldiers turned on their heels and fled for their lives, shoving each other out of the way in their haste to get as far away from Aldric as possible. They looked like terrified animals fleeing an apex predator, scattering in all directions like roaches. Aldric simply watched them, a confounded expression on his face. Then his rattled brain put the pieces together. If they thought he could cast spells of this magnitude, then why wouldn’t they be terrified of him?

The area was quickly left empty as the enemy retreated, apparently deciding that the still raging fight on the other end of the camp was a better bet than dealing with whatever the hell Aldric would do to them. Aldric, of course, let them go. He was happy to have an excuse to not fight for his life yet again. He collapsed where he stood, ignoring the scores of corpses that littered the ground of the crater he sat in. His exhaustion, mana depletion, injuries, and terror suddenly asserted themselves all at once.

Aldric abruptly bent over and began vomiting violently onto the ground, thick bile from the very depths of his guts. It could have been a side effect of his emergency healing, but it was more likely his body finally letting go of its death grip on his nerves. With no more threats to deal with, Aldric’s mind could only fixate on how very, very close they had all come to annihilation. And how many people he’d murdered avoiding it.

No longer caring if they were in danger or not, and thoroughly spent both emotionally and physically, Aldric struggled back to his feet and tried to hobble over to the line of cages where the rest of the penal squad was. Then his legs gave out again, and he fell to his knees, unmoving. He couldn’t work up the effort to get back up again.

“Hey, boss!” Ida’s voice called out to him. He looked up to find her, Talus, and Daelus all rushing towards him. “You can’t go dying on us now! Not after surviving all that bullshit!”

Talus and Daelus each took one of Aldric’s arms as they lifted him up, then hauled him over to the rest of the penal squad. Free from danger for the moment, Aldric took in the surrounding carnage. His earlier count had been optimistic. There were seven penal squad members, the three carrying him included, left alive. Around twelve were wounded badly enough that they likely wouldn’t make it, and the rest of the ninety-three initial members that had originally been sent here were dead. Only one of the wounded that had still been stuck in the cages had survived, and they had a missing hand to show for it. It was a devastating loss, but it wasn’t everyone. Aldric wasn’t sure he could ask for more than that.

Daelus and Talus set Aldric down with his back to a cage while Ida moved in to check him for injury. Even as the sounds of pitched fighting raged from the other end of the camp, Aldric fought a war to keep his eyelids open. If more enemies showed up, Aldric was ready to simply lie down and die. He had no energy left to give and imbuing two powerful spell scrolls back-to-back had sapped almost his entire mana pool. If the gods were truly that determined to kill him today, there wasn’t much more he or the rest of the squad could do about it.

What the hell had he been thinking, putting himself in this situation? How could he think that merely grit, determination and cleverness would overcome the dire situation these men and women in the penal squad found themselves in? Kedrin had been right to try to talk him out of this. It was just stupid. How was he ever going to go back home if he got himself killed?

“Well, that was... something,” Daelus said, plopping down next to Aldric in the dirt that was now muddy with blood. The old man looked haggard and sported several cuts, but he would live. “I suppose we all owe you our lives, boy. We had you pegged wrong. We thought you were some upstart braggart with no understanding of the world. Turns out you were hiding the heart of a dragon in your chest.”

Aldric snorted dismissively. “They all might disagree with you.” He tiredly jerked his chin to the mounds of penal squad bodies littering the ground.

“We wouldn’t,” Talus countered in the most serious tone Aldric had heard from the man yet. “They wouldn’t.” He pointed behind Aldric, who turned and saw that the rest of the penal squad had all crowded in around him. There were only four of them, but they stuck to him like glue, as if assured by his presence. All their faces bore gratitude and relief. Even the wounded one still in the cage gave an appreciative, if subdued, nod.

“You can’t think you’ve done nothing for us today, can you?” Ida chimed in, finishing her critical examination of him. “Do you think it often that penal squads don’t get wiped out to the last member?”

“I didn’t do enough,” Aldric muttered.

“You did more than we did,” Daelus shot back. “More than anyone ever did. Even Kedrin didn’t fight the enemy with us, and he sure as hell didn’t charge a damn mage with a cadre of soldiers.”

The mention of Kedrin brought up more dark thoughts for Aldric. He fished around in his hidden waistband and pulled out the healing scroll, now fully depleted. “I could have saved a lot of people with that, you know. There was likely more than enough magic packed into that thing to save a dozen lives. I didn’t use it for that. Now these wounded are going to die.”

Daelus, Ida and Talus all stared at the inert scroll for several moments before Daelus spoke up. “So why didn’t you?”

“Because...” Aldric choked on his answer and went silent. Daelus surprised him by answering for him.

“Because you wanted to live, boy. Because you have things worth living for. You think any of us wouldn’t have done the same thing in that situation? Because I know I would have.” He gave Aldric a long, measuring look. “Besides, it didn’t stop you from dying for us. And it didn’t stop you from coming back from the dead, only to throw your life away a second time. Give yourself more credit, boy.”

Aldric didn’t answer, but he wasn’t convinced. He remembered the looks he’d gotten from those still left in the cages that he’d ordered others to leave on their own. He’d tried to convince himself that it was the best plan, that they would still be safe in the cages. Now none of them, save for one, lived while Aldric did, because he’d been too selfish to risk helping them.

“Don’t do that!” Ida suddenly shouted at Aldric, snapping her fingers in front of his face and startling him. “Don’t start second guessing yourself. You’ll never win that game. No one knows what the outcome will be until it happens. Accept it and move on.”

“She’s right,” Daelus added. “Beating yourself up in hindsight only makes it harder to make the tough choices again. What’s done is done. That’s what being a leader is.”

Aldric looked at him in annoyance. “When did I become anyone’s leader? And where was all this sage wisdom when you were telling me to give up and die?”

Daelus had the good grace to look abashed. “Maybe you reminded me of things I used to believe,” he answered quietly. “And you became a leader when you pulled our asses out of the jaws of hell.”

“You’re the boss, Boss,” Ida said with finality in her voice. “So, act like it. Stop being a downer.”

“What she’s trying to say,” Talus interrupted, “is that she’s grateful. We all are. You’re the only one who stepped up and took responsibility, so now it’s yours.” He then winked playfully. “We’ll help you out, since you’re still a kid and all. Be sure to make it up to me later. Have I mentioned how much I like money and women?”

Ida quickly kicked Talus in the shin and caused him to fall over in pain. The others chuckled lightly, in stark contrast to the surrounding scene. Aldric wasn’t sure he was totally convinced yet, but this was what he’d wanted, right? To earn a reputation by turning the penal squad into a successful and respectable unit. He had a lot more progress to make than he had initially thought, but this was the first step to that. It still felt weird to have people ten years older than him treat him like their senior, though.

Before Aldric could contemplate any further, however, they were interrupted by the sounds of screaming and veronian soldiers running for their lives. Aldric and his people tensed as they readied for another fight, knowing that they would fail, but then Aldric saw the Empire’s soldiers giving chase. The veronian army had been finally routed and were fleeing their own camp. Aldric and his squad quickly retreated behind the cage line again, wary of any more fighting.

Any veronian too slow to make it out of the palisade wall was cut down by the pursuing rhagians. Both sides had seen heavy fighting, but the rhagians were now fueled by the elation of victory and a desire for vengeance. It didn’t take long for the rest of the army to drive away the enemy and set a perimeter around their newly won territory.

Cheers and celebrations resounded throughout the camp. The only exception was the small, huddled group of penal squad members behind their cages, staring hollowly at the merriment on display. Aldric’s exhaustion from earlier was quickly replaced with a hot, seething anger. While several gawked at the massive crater with obvious surprise, no one so much as glanced at the still warm bodies of the penal squad’s dead as they traipsed around in victory.

“There you all are.” The soldier that Aldric recognized as the wagon driver for his cage approached the group, looking like an annoyed farmer having to chase his cattle down. He was a lieutenant based on his insignia. “And you ruined the things, too.” He kicked one of the destroyed cages and sighed in irritation. “Gods dammit. Now I have to wait here for them to bring more from headquarters. Can’t you all just die like you’re supposed to?”

Then the lieutenant abruptly wound up and kicked the nearest dying penal squad member in the head as casually as a rock on the street. The woman’s head rocked back from the blow, her wheezing death rattles cutting off sharply into silence.

Aldric didn’t remember too well what happened after that. His next conscious memory was of himself straddling the lieutenant on the ground, wildly beating his fists into the man’s face while screaming bloody murder. Several nearby soldiers heard Aldric’s cries for death and lunged for him but were quickly met with the rest of Aldric’s squad joining in on the scrum. The situation devolved into chaos as more soldiers rushed over to put down the impromptu rebellion. It didn’t take long for the weak and exhausted penal squad members to be subdued, but not before they got good shots in on several soldiers. Aldric’s enraged mind was satisfied to see some soldiers hauling off their unconscious allies as the penal squad and Aldric were all wrestled to the ground.

“What is the meaning of this?” a sharp voice shouted over the tumult, silencing everyone. Aldric looked up to find Field Commander Caffaret marching towards them, a train of elite officers riding along behind him. When he got close enough to see Aldric’s face clearly, he sneered with obvious hatred.

“But of course. It’s you. And what nonsense have you caused this time, Gurdis?”

“SHUT UP!” Aldric snarled with such venom that Caffaret actually took a step back on reflex. The soldier pinning Aldric to his knees did his best, but Aldric was slowly breaking free of his grasp as he struggled madly. “All of this is your fault! What kind of leader throws lives at the enemy like a child throwing a handful of rocks? If you weren’t such a shit commander, these people would still be alive!”

Several of the nearby soldiers began kicking at Aldric’s face while his hands were bound. Aldric did his best, but the dog pile of ten soldiers easily overwhelmed his efforts to escape. Aldric’s face was shoved into the mud as he continued to snarl curses at all of them. Caffaret walked closer to Aldric, appearing to make a show of not fearing him to make up for his flinch earlier.

“It’s only been a day, and yet you’re already learned how to act as the animals do.” He stooped down and leered at Aldric with a smug grin. “Your job is to die for your empire. Since all of you are so incapable of doing your duty, I’ll help you along.” Then he stood and walked off, not giving the penal squad a second glance.

“Execute them,” he ordered simply. “Burn the bodies. We’ve no need to bring them back with us.”

Aldric’s mind raced as soldiers began pulling out knives to slit their throats. The other squad members began struggling madly for freedom as they called out to Aldric, but there was nothing to be done. Aldric was a bloody mess from his face being kicked in and exhausted beyond belief. But he’d been the one to get them into this. They’d only fought to back him up. He couldn’t just let them die while he was still breathing.

Aldric pushed his bloody face into the ground, gritting his teeth from the pain, and began tracing out bloody runes on the ground with the tip of his nose. The angle was awkward, and the mud made drawing the correct lines difficult, but he managed it.

The men holding him must have assumed he’d given up and was submitting or whimpering in fear, because they laughed at his bizarre antics. None of them were ready when Aldric finished the last rune in his formation and screamed, “Tera durna cirda!”

The ground underneath Aldric turned from muddy to swampy in seconds. The soldiers grabbing at him were suddenly up to their knees in thick sludge and began flailing in fright as they sank slowly deeper. Aldric was the only one not affected. His mana pool felt like it was about to crack from the extra effort, but he ignored the pain and extricated himself from the pit, grabbing a sword from one of the drowning soldiers. When other soldiers rushed to help, they found Aldric’s new blade swinging back and forth like a scythe. He kept them back, but knew he couldn’t win any sort of fight right now. Hell, he could barely keep his grip on the sword hilt as he swung it around desperately.

Instead of fighting, he dashed over to the nearest restrained squad member, who happened to be Daelus, and launched a sloppy sword swipe against the man holding him down. The soldier easily leapt out of the way, but he dropped his spear and released Daelus to do so. To the old man’s credit, he didn’t wait around. He grabbed the free spear and went back-to-back with Aldric, menacing anyone who came near them.

“I hope you have a better plan than this, boy!” Daelus called out as every soldier around them drew weapons and surrounded them. The rest of the squad had been forgotten in the moment, and Ida and Talus had broken free of their captors, but the situation was bad. Aldric contemplated using the remaining dregs of his mana pool to try to enchant his arms for enforcer strength, more out of a lack of ideas than any faith it would work, when a voice cut through the chaos.

“STOP! Do not attack them! Back off!”

Bizarrely, when the confused sea of soldiers reluctantly parted, Aldric found Caffaret standing there. The man looked oddly panicked as he gawked at Aldric.

“You! You’re a mage! What house do you belong to?”

Aldric only blinked at Caffaret, not comprehending the reason for such a question. Then the realization hit him. If Aldric was secretly a mage, it was extremely likely that he was a noble. And a noble, possibly even a young heir, wasn’t someone you could easily kill without serious repercussions. If one of the Four Great Houses was found out to have murdered a fellow noble, not to mention disgracing that noble’s family name by throwing them into the penal squad, it would cause quite the stir. A stir that would leave Dylas saddling all the blame and the fierce displeasure of his own house.

“... wouldn’t you like to know?” Aldric finally answered, at last seeing a chance to get them all out of this. He was annoyed that he hadn’t thought of this tactic sooner, but he would happily take it now.

Caffaret glared daggers at Aldric, but didn’t immediately say anything else. The soldiers surrounding Aldric and Daelus all looked from the penal squad to their commander and back again, clearly unsure what to do. When Aldric began to worry that his bluff was about to be called, Caffaret finally shouted, “All of you, get back to your duties! I will handle this.”

The soldiers were clearly baffled, but no one, not even the elite officers with Caffaret, were willing to question orders. As they all slowly left and went back to their plundering, including the two that Aldric had buried in mud, the only people left were Aldric, the penal squad, and the commander.

“... what do you want?” Caffaret finally asked Aldric, practically snarling out the words. “And don’t push your luck. I still haven’t decided if I care enough not to kill you outright.”

Aldric hadn’t expected to get straight to the point, but he schooled his expression. If he wanted to sell the persona of a spoiled noble heir who knew no one could touch him, he would need to act the part.

“Well, not dying is a good start,” Aldric answered, trying to inject his tone with bratty self-assuredness.

Caffaret narrowed his eyes but continued speaking, waving his hand impatiently. “And?”

“Command of the penal squad,” Aldric said, surprising both Caffaret and himself. The commander looked at Aldric like he was a madman.

“Command of the penal squad? We only call you that so that we don’t have to waste our breath calling you a rabid band of convicted criminals!” Caffaret exclaimed, flabbergasted. “What does that even mean, command of the penal squad?”

“We still go on the same assignments that we do now,” Aldric elaborated. “But we get to decide how we go about acting. No more of this crap.” He gestured expansively at the line of cages. “You don’t have to give us anything more than what we already have or what we can scrounge for ourselves. But you leave us the hell alone. And we get to use healing services like everyone else. We do the job, and you stay away from us.”

Caffaret looked torn between confusion and outrage. No doubt he wasn’t accustomed to anyone, noble or not, making demands of him. It was clear in his expression that he had no earthly idea why Aldric would want something like this. That uncertainty seemed to make him suspicious.

“You would still follow my orders?” he asked slowly, glaring at Aldric.

“We would march to whatever battlefield you wanted,” Aldric answered. “But when we get there, I’m in charge of my squad.”

“Why would you want this? No noble would stoop this low. I have half a mind to think you’re lying through your teeth,” Caffaret growled.

“You’re not dumb enough to risk it,” Aldric countered. “Be smart and take the deal, Caffaret. We’re not asking for a lot, are we? If anyone asks why we’re not all executed, just say we begged and groveled for mercy or something. Make yourself look like the benevolent noble with a heart of gold.”

The proud nobleman visibly bristled at being named so casually by someone he saw as his inferior. For a few moments, Aldric worried he might have pushed too hard. Caffaret clearly hated the idea of bending to Aldric’s wishes. He almost looked like he was about to kill Aldric right then and there, political consequences be damned.

“Fine!” Caffaret spat out, sounding remarkably like a bratty child who wasn’t getting his way. “But one toe out of line, and all of you will hang for it. You will not get a third chance, Gurdis, no matter whose spawn you are!”

He turned on his heel and stormed off, not even waiting for a response from Aldric. Aldric waited until the man had moved out of sight and the soldiers that had been hovering nearby to eavesdrop on them lost interest. Then he let out an explosive breath as all his tension left him at once, collapsing like a stringless puppet onto his butt. Daelus walked up and slapped him on the back, forcing a laugh despite how close they’d all been to death just now.

“How’d you know that would work?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” Aldric answered breathlessly. When he looked around himself, he found a ragtag band of convicted criminals who were tired, malnourished, and unequipped. His impromptu gamble may have paid off, but it was going to be an uphill battle. If he still wanted to make a name for himself and clear his reputation with such a sorry start to his goals, he would need to work like his life depended on it.

Because it did. His, and those of his new squad.

Every one of his people, small in number though they may have been, looked at him expectantly while clearly waiting for some sort of instruction. Even the surly Ida and the flippant Talus had serious looks on their faces as they stared at him. Aldric suddenly felt self-conscious. He took in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before letting it out slowly, just like Zasia had taught him for public speaking years ago.

“Gather up the dead. We’ll bury them later. Take the wounded to the healers’ tent and ask for a boy named Kedrin. I’m sure he came with them just to check up on me. After that, rest up and then report back to me. We have a lot of planning and training to do.”

Chapter 9

FIVE YEARS LATER...

Aldric could barely see anything in the storeroom that was his hiding spot, but he heard plenty. Footsteps were thudding heavily in the hall outside, likely the heavily booted feet of veronian soldiers desperately searching for the source of this latest attack on their fort. Frantic orders were given to track the perpetrators down and to get pales of water to put out the inferno. Water mages would have worked better, of course, but Aldric’s team had already taken care of them days ago.

The faintest of knocking came from the door Aldric was posted up next to. It came in a stuttered pattern that Aldric immediately recognized. He unhooked the latch and opened the door just wide enough for a person to squeeze through, blinking as the light from the magic lamps of the hallway assaulted his eyes. The first through the door was Ida, slipping through like a cat on silent feet. Talus was next and just as quiet, though his taller frame made the maneuver more awkward. Daelus tromped through after them, not as skilled at stealth as the other two, but still quiet enough.

The last of them was a bit of a problem. A behemoth of a man, a foot taller than Aldric and twice as wide, barreled through the doorway with the grace of a newborn deer. Aldric lost his grip on the door handle as their last member came in, the door rattling against the opposite wall as it bounced off. Everyone winced, but Aldric quickly shut the door again, plunging the room back into darkness.

“Damn it, Bredig!” Ida hissed in an angry whisper. “This is why we don’t take you on stealth missions!”

“What do you expect him to do? He’s the size of a mountain,” Talus whispered back. “And he’ll come in handy if we have to make a break for it.”

Bredig said nothing, simply shrugging his shoulders casually as he scratched at his close-cropped blonde hair. The others couldn’t see the movement in the dark, but they wouldn’t have expected a verbal answer, anyway. Bredig had never once talked for the year he’d been part of Aldric’s inner circle.

Daelus had stationed himself next to the door, clearly keeping an ear out for anyone following them. His sword was already in his hand and ready for a fight, likely one he’d stolen from the equipment room of the fort. Daelus looked a lot healthier and more fit than he had five years ago. In fact, they all did, and were far better trained as a team as well.

“I can’t believe this is actually working. Did you see all those bastards running around like panicked chickens?” Talus whispered. “Boss, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“Shut up, idiot! We’re supposed to be hiding!” Ida snarled.

“What, you can make noise, but I can’t? You’re not my mom!”

Aldric had already been in the dark for several minutes now, so his night vision was still good. It made it easy for him to walk over to Talus and Ida and smack them over the back of their heads without them being ready for it.

“Quiet, both of you. Your arguing is louder than Bredig.”

They both grumbled a bit more, but eventually shut up. Even after countless missions together, Aldric still thought it was weird that these grown adults took the orders of a man barely into his twenties so readily, but their loyalty was appreciated. Especially when he concocted harebrained schemes like this latest one and needed them to be a part of it.

“I hear them coming, boy,” Daelus said, earning everyone’s immediate attention. “They’re not running. I don’t think they heard us.”

“Did you check in here yet?” came a voice from just outside the door, confirming Daelus’ suspicions. Another voice from further off said something in response, sounding like a denial.  “Fine. Donavan, with me. We’ll clear it quickly and check on the others.”

Everyone in the storeroom tensed, but thankfully didn’t make a sound. All eyes were on the doorknob to the storeroom as it slowly turned, creaking ominously. When the door finally swung inward, two veronian soldiers stepped through.

It was broad daylight outside, and this storeroom was in the underground portion of the enemy fort. It was likely they had just been outside dealing with the fire, then came rushing down here looking for the intruders that had been hounding them for a week. Their night vision would be shot, so they didn’t notice the five strangers already within it. That meant that the first soldier to step through never saw Daelus until the old man grabbed him and threw him further into the room.

Said soldier went tumbling from the abrupt and firm tug on his collar, ending up right in front of where Ida was standing. The physically unassuming but vicious woman immediately descended on the poor man like a tiny demon, ramming her stolen dagger home in his right eye and piercing his brain without a sound. The feral look on her face as she did so was frightening, even to Aldric.

The second soldier had been too slow to react, and Daelus took advantage of it. He rushed the man before he could get his spear ready, lunging with a quick thrust to his abdomen. Daelus’ sword punched through the leather armor like paper, cleanly sliding in up to the hilt. The soldier let out a mix between a scream and a sob before Daelus’ back up dagger took him in the throat. He hauled the body inside and quickly shut the door.

Silence took the room as they waited for any sort of reaction outside. Then they all collectively groaned when shouts of alarm came from the hallway.

“Gods damn it, Daelus! That’s why you always go for the neck or brain first!” Ida scolded as they all rushed out of the room.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Daelus huffed as he ran down the hall with the rest of them. More veronian soldiers were right on their heels, screaming promises of death.

“Fall back to the seventh safe point!” Aldric commanded. “Talus, do it now!”

“On it, Boss!” Talus answered from the rear of their pack.

He shoved his hand into one of his many pockets and produced a fistful of caltrops that he’d made from scraps of metal found around the fort. He tossed them behind their group as they fled, grinning evilly when cries of alarm and pain rang out from the group of pursuing soldiers. The especially unfortunate tripped over their fellows and fell faces-first into the tiny forest of spikes.

“Gods, but I love that sound!” Talus crowed. “They never see it coming!”

With the soldiers momentarily occupied, Aldric slid to a stop next to a seemingly random stack of barrels outside of another storeroom. He’d left these here ahead of time and knew they were filled with lamp oil, and the veronians thankfully hadn’t seen fit to scrutinize them.

“Keep going! Don’t look back!”

His people all did as he ordered, sprinting down the hall and around a corner. They’d all known their exit strategy and trusted Aldric to carry it out. Aldric quickly grabbed the top-most barrel and tipped it onto its side, rolling it over until he saw what he’d been looking for: a tiny slip of spell paper, small enough that any casual observation would easily overlook it.

It wasn’t regular spell paper, though. That was too expensive and scarce for the penal squad to have any large amount of it, after all. That was why he and Kedrin had worked for years to develop this alternative paper, specifically developed from common animal hides and magically treated by Kedrin’s unique healing to hold mana. It couldn’t hold the same level of spell as normal spell paper without disintegrating from the mana required to use it, but Aldric wasn’t capable of something like that without wiping out his mana pool, anyway.

It only took half a second to imbue his mana into the paper. He’d gotten prodigiously fast at it from all his practice. As the paper began to glow, Aldric sprinted after his squad. He didn’t turn back when he heard the monumental explosion rock the entire underground portion of the fort, followed quickly by the screams of the dying and terrified.

As Aldric caught up to the rear of his retreating squad, he noticed another group of soldiers coming from ahead and charging with their spears low. Apparently, some of them had gotten smart and circled around the other way to cut them off. Aldric was about to use one of his emergency backups, but he needn’t have bothered.

Bredig let out a bloodcurdling roar, the kind that made a person’s inner animal want to hide in the nearest hole. He grabbed one of the hall doors and ripped it clean off its hinges like they were made of soft clay. Then he held it in front of himself and bull-rushed the oncoming soldiers like an angry elephant.

The soldiers quickly shifted from the valiant cries of warriors to the terrified screams of children as they desperately tried to stop and run back the way they’d come. They were far too late, however. Bredig plowed through the lot of them like an oversized toddler through toy blocks, scattering them to all ends of the hallway. Aldric’s team was right behind him, having never stopped their charge.

“To the left, Bredig!” Daelus called out. “Third door!”

When Bredig arrived at said door, he didn’t bother opening it, instead busting through it shoulder first. The room beyond was another storage room, though this one had clearly been stocked with weapons and armor crucial to Veronia’s efforts to keep this fort. Too bad that was all going to disappear in a moment.

“Everyone through the hatch, now!” Aldric commanded. Bredig grabbed a dusty crate filled with metal ingots for repairing and creating more armor and shoved it back. It revealed the tunnel that Aldric’s team had excavated days ago through a combination of Aldric’s earth magic and simple hand tools. Without hesitation, Bredig and the rest of the squad leapt down the hole and out of sight.

Aldric lagged behind, blindly feeling behind a storage shelf until he found the outline of a rune carved into the stone wall. He quickly imbued it, wobbling a bit from the mana cost, before jumping down the hole himself. The rune formation that Aldric had set up in every one of their hiding rooms activated in perfect sequence, causing the room to vibrate violently. Just as Talus and Bredig had grabbed Aldric and dragged him down the hole, the entire room suddenly shuddered once before collapsing in a shower of stone and dirt, caving in the storage room and destroying everything inside. Large pieces of masonry filled the hole the team had just crawled through, plunging the narrow passage into blackness.

After a few blind moments of fiddling around in his pockets, Aldric took out a simple enchanted stone that produced a small flame, something nobles often used for lighting pipes or cigars. It took just about everything Aldric had left to light it and provide the faintest bit of light for them all, and he quickly handed it to Ida before he collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. That last earth imbuing had taken a lot out of him, and Ida hurried to give him their shared water skin.

Now that the immediate danger had passed, Talus started laughing uproariously. “Did you see the looks on their faces when they saw us? Gods, but they’re getting desperate, aren’t they? I’d almost feel bad for them after the hell we’ve been putting them through. Too bad we were in a hurry. Couldn’t swipe anything from the dead.” He took out a bent dagger from a fold in his clothes and scowled at it. “I needed a new one of these. Veronian standard issue blades are shit, aren’t they?”

“Shouldn’t we keep moving?” Daelus interrupted. “The end of this leads to that empty cellar, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Ida answered, still fussing over Aldric as he tried to get her to leave him alone. “We already destroyed that one. The next place is the stables, I think. We can probably hide up in the loft as long as we keep quiet.”

“It’s fine,” Aldric sighed as he finally got Ida to leave him alone with a reassuring nod. He leaned up against the tunnel’s wall and made himself as comfortable as possible. “We can stay here for now. I dug these tunnels with rune workings, so it should be stable, and the opening we made to the outside will bring in enough air.” He looked around at his team and gave them a tired smile. “I think our job here is just about done. If Caffaret needs any more help than that, he’s an even worse leader than I thought.”

It felt odd to say after the week they’d spent in this place, but it was probably true. According to Aldric’s sources back in Ithra, Caffaret had been ordered by the empress herself to take part in what they hoped was the final push against Verona. The basic plan was to hem Verona in from all sides and batter the hell out of them in a large-scale invasion of Verona’s territory, hopefully bringing a swift end to the war. Caffaret’s part was to capture Fort Tebris, the fort Aldric and company were currently inside, and use it as a forward operating base to support the empire’s efforts.

Taking the fort was the primary problem, though. This place had stood in Verona’s territory for centuries without ever having been taken by enemy forces, whether from Rhagia or Osakar. Caffaret had tried time and time again to take this position, all without avail and only large casualties to show for it. Having finally given in to desperation, he’d ordered Aldric to do something about it.

On the surface, this might have sounded ludicrous. Aldric’s penal squad was only barely equipped with whatever they could scrounge from the battlefields they’d been on and numbered only a bit over a hundred after several years of building up strength again. To take on a heavily fortified position manned by over four hundred soldiers was suicide. Hell, maybe that had been Caffaret’s intention. He certainly loved throwing Aldric into insane scenarios that no one else with sense would ever put themselves in, likely hoping he’d die in the process.

But Aldric loved a challenge. Since he had free rein over how he went about his assignments, he tended to have very unconventional solutions to difficult problems. This latest gamble of his, however, was probably the craziest.

Aldric had taken his team of five and snuck into the fort, using stolen enemy uniforms and armor to trick the night guards into relinquishing their shifts to the “next guards on duty”, simply explaining that they couldn’t sleep and had come earlier than expected. When the actual relief guards had shown up a bit later, Aldric and his team had simply thanked them and gone back to the barracks. Then they’d stayed low for two whole days, with the entire fort none the wiser that they had just let the wolves into their hen house.

On the third day, Aldric’s team began their actual plan.

It had started with the grain storage mysteriously catching fire. Then the dry food stores. Then the officer’s wing of the barracks. By the time the water well was found to have been poisoned, courtesy of Talus’ odd set of skills in creating deadly concoctions out of local flora, the Veronian soldiers had caught on that they had saboteurs among them. Aldric’s team was forced to abandon their disguises and simply hide within the fort itself once their actions got too obvious. By that point, however, they had already put contingencies in place, such as this escape tunnel, to make sure they were never caught.

The constant harassment continued for a week. Supplies were destroyed, weapons and armor were broken or stolen, and key personnel, especially mages and commanding officers, were found mysteriously dead in their own beds. The food stocks were inundated with rat corpses that fouled what little food was left after the fire, and anyone who had already eaten from it became violently ill. Daelus had even come up with the idea to set the stables outside the fort walls on fire, but only after leaving all the paddocks unlocked for all the creatures inside to escape and cause havoc.

The Veronian military prided itself on its mounted cavalry, using the large reptilian creatures they called grizziks to mow down enemy forces in massive charges. The imposing animals were vicious and fast. They could trample a man easily under their bulk or snap him up with their long tongues and razor-sharp teeth.

As Aldric’s team found out, they also really didn’t like fire. The Veronian soldiers found this out the hard way as they desperately tried to recapture their precious panicking mounts, only to be trampled or chomped in half by them for their effort. By the time they’d rounded up those that hadn’t already fled too far to pursue, twenty men were dead and almost a third of the grizziks had escaped.

Aldric’s team’s latest attack had set fire to the fort’s healing supplies, something Aldric felt conflicted about. He knew Kedrin wouldn’t appreciate the idea of denying injured soldiers medical treatment, but he needed the situation to appear hopeless. Caffaret’s army had built a siege camp around the fort, so it only fueled the image that the smart thing to do was to surrender.

Aldric didn’t particularly care what they chose at this point. They could either all die in a brave, but stupid, last stand, or acknowledge the writing on the wall and give up peaceably. He just wanted to be done. Living in dark, dusty corners for a week, particularly with Talus and Ida bantering all the time, was wearing on him.

Since Aldric had no intention of moving from his spot on the floor, the others joined him in a rough circle. Ida took out one of the rations they’d squirrelled away from the fort’s stores before they’d destroyed the rest. She offered some to Aldric first before she tore into it with a will. The others all took out similar food items and began chowing down. They’d learned over the past week to get a quick meal in whenever they had any sort of down time.

“So, you really think we’re done, boy?” Daelus asked through a mouthful of hardtack. He was the only one in the penal squad who didn’t call Aldric “Boss”, but Aldric didn’t mind. He’d never asked them to call him that, anyway.

“I think we’ve softened them up as much as we’re going to,” Aldric answered. “Anymore, and we’ll just risk getting caught. We’re running out of hiding places to fall back on. If Verona really wants to fight off an army of seven hundred when they’re beaten, battered, starving, and tired, then the following ‘battle’ will be over in less than an hour. Come morning, we’ll be leaving either way.”

Daelus shook his head in wonder. “You realize what that means, right? A team of five vagabonds did what an army of seven hundred couldn’t. And we did it in only a week. What I wouldn’t give to get a peek inside that skull of yours, boy.”

“Lots of half-formed ideas and more than a little insanity,” Aldric quipped. He drank deeply from their water skin as the effect of mana fatigue settled in.

“Boss, you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Talus said. “The only reason this worked was because of you. If you weren’t in the penal squad, you’d get a damn medal. Or ten.”

“That doesn’t make sense, though,” Ida cut in. “With smarts like yours, you could lead your own battalion. We know you’re a mage noble, so why the hell are you still stuck here after all these years? Shouldn’t your time be up by now? Surely you could have gotten that pompous bastard to let you out and give you a suitable position, right?”

It was a valid question. Most members of the penal squad were put in for a set amount of time and then released once their sentences had been fulfilled. Aldric had been branded, which usually meant that you were doomed to live out the rest of your brief life in the squad. But Aldric hadn’t died in five years of serving, something completely unprecedented. In fact, the mortality rate of the entire penal squad had dropped sharply ever since Aldric had been given command over them. Caffaret’s stupid and reckless “strategies” weren’t rapidly killing them off anymore, and it was getting to where the penal squad was growing too fast. It was no longer an effective threat for Caffaret to levy at misbehaving soldiers. Many of Aldric’s squad would purposely cause trouble in Ithra once their sentences were up just so they could get thrown back in with him.

Caffaret had actually offered to let Aldric back into the regular army as a lieutenant, a drastic promotion for someone who was still technically a private, but Aldric had declined. He knew he had more power here than he ever would as a formal officer. The moment he was back in the regular military, Caffaret would stick him somewhere inconsequential to be forgotten about. He’d been itching to for years, having apparently never found out who Aldric’s family was and unable to openly act on him until he did. The rest of Caffaret’s soldiers weren’t all idiots; they knew where most of Caffaret’s military successes really came from. He was losing respect from his own soldiers and officers and running out of ways to cover up the details for those outside of Ithra.

Aldric sat for a long while as he contemplated his answer to Ida’s question. The squad thankfully let him do so in silence. He’d never really explained to them his reason for joining the penal squad in the first place, and they’d never asked. It was normally taboo in the squad to ask where other members had been previously. Ida’s curiosity must have finally won out. Maybe he should just be honest?

“I’m here to earn a name for myself,” Aldric answered at last, deciding not to mention everything. “I need to in order to restore my life to what it once was. Or at least something close to that. Military was the fastest way at the time that I could think of to do that.”

Talus and Bredig nodded in understanding. It wasn’t uncommon for disgraced nobles to earn back the favor of their family through military service. Ida looked unconvinced, however.

“Why the penal squad, though? You’re a noble. Surely you could’ve gotten an officer’s position. Wouldn’t that be faster? What does leading a bunch of criminals prove to those over-inflated asshats in the nobility?”

“It proves I can do what they can’t,” Aldric said, grinning. “They treat the penal squad like an archer treats his arrows; expendable and easy to make more. If I can turn around the entire squad into a genuine fighting force, I might have some leverage to get us all recognized by the rest of the army. Dylas is already pissing himself in fear that someone outside of Ithra will figure out his successes were actually ours. Can you imagine what others would think if we showed them what we could do?”

All four of them stared at him in stunned silence. Daelus’ loud laughter eventually broke it.

“The boy’s set to take on the whole damn military tradition of our empire just to make a point!” he wheezed out when everyone looked at him.

“Boss, you’re mad!” Talus accused. “We ain’t that special. We’re just a bunch of criminals and vagrants dressed up like soldiers. You’re the only one among us with any kind of future. None of us had anywhere better to go, but it beat getting slaughtered. If it wasn’t for you, we all would have left by now. And yet, now you want us to be some special forces or something? Did you hit your head when you fell down the tunnel?”

“All of this worked because we all worked together,” Aldric corrected, looking at each of them. “Maybe you only see yourself as a petty thief who got caught, Talus, but I see someone who specializes in sabotage and unconventional tactics. Ida isn’t just a poacher, but a clever survivalist who can study her prey and find openings to exploit without ever being seen. Bredig is... well, he’s Bredig, and damn good to have in a fight. And you all know Daelus was keeping the old penal squad together long before I ever showed up. If he wasn’t second in command, everything would have fallen apart by now. We all did this, not just me.”

Bredig gave him a broad smile, silent as always. Talus deflected with humor before biting into his ration again. Ida just snorted, turning around so Aldric couldn’t see how red her face was turning. Daelus grumbled something about silly kids, but he looked pleased.

Even if they’d never fully believe him, Aldric meant what he’d said. He couldn’t do anything without his squad.

“I don’t get you, Boss,” Ida finally said when they’d all expressed their embarrassment in their own ways. “You hate nobles, don’t you? Why would you ever want to go back to them? I know we’re not supposed to ask, but I imagine there’s quite a story about how you ended up here.”

Aldric looked down at his hands, not immediately knowing what to say. They were dirty, calloused, and branded with the penal squad symbol. They were also larger than when he’d first volunteered for the rhagian army. Gods, had it really been five years? He doubted he’d recognize his old life now. Two faces popped into his mind as he contemplated his past. They were a lot younger than Aldric was now, and he had to wonder just how different they would look today. Would they even recognize him?

The brash and determined youth Aldric had once been had drastically changed. He was definitely still brash, but he was many other things now. Chiefly, a killer. How would they feel about that? Sure, he’d been a soldier, or at least close to one, but he’d still killed many people. And it wasn’t like the penal squad often took part in stand-up or honorable fights. It was often a lot of sneaking around and slitting throats, as well as dirty tactics and sly maneuvers that Aldric wasn’t sure Zasia and Miraea would be comfortable with. They were his closest friends, really his only friends besides Kedrin, but they were still nobles, and it had been a very long time. A lot could change in five years.

He needed to make sure he could return to them proudly. He needed to restore his good name by making a difference in this war, even if it was in the penal squad. That was the only way forward for him, and he just needed to keep walking the path he’d chosen for himself. Then he could go back to the way things were before. That was what he told himself, anyway.

Aldric suddenly realized that he’d been silent and staring at the floor for way too long. The rest of the squad was looking at him in confusion and mild concern. The look on his face must have been a bad one. He started to give an excuse, but a loud grinding noise that shook the walls of the tunnel cut him off.

Instantly, the squad was on alert, their moment of relaxation forgotten as their battle instincts took over. The sounds of pitched fighting could be heard all the way from down in their tunnel. Caffaret’s army must have breached the fort gates.

“Ida, go up top and top and monitor the fighting,” Aldric ordered. “Talus, go with her. Don’t do anything stupid, just observe and report back.”

Both were off in a flash, their footfalls nearly silent even in the echoing tunnel. The other three sat around and waited anxiously. It was almost certain that the veronians would lose, but Aldric honestly hadn’t expected them to put up any kind of resistance. Did they have some sort of trick that Aldric and his people had missed?

Aldric spent the next ten minutes doubting himself and coming up with possible escape plans, but they proved unnecessary. Talus and Ida both came back unharmed shortly after leaving. Based on Talus’ broad smile, it was good news.

“Boss! Some veronians wanted to surrender and turned traitor. They opened the gate and let Caffaret’s army inside, then helped kill the handful of loyal soldiers. The fort is ours!”

~~~

THE FORT WAS TAKEN and occupied within a day by Rhagia’s army. Dylas Caffaret looked on with pride as his army began systematically imprisoning veronian soldiers and taking stock of leftover supplies. This was a big victory for Rhagia, but more importantly, it was a big victory for Dylas. He would surely earn accolades for this victory, perhaps even from Empress Rhagia herself. House Caffaret had played a pivotal role in the final push against the veronian menace. A promotion was likely in his future, besides whatever rewards his family offered.

Cheers erupted from the soldiers around Dylas as he paraded with his officers through the gates of the fort. He humored them with polite waves and humble bows of his head, eating up the praise they lavished upon him. He deserved this, after all. Fort Tebris had never been captured before today. Not until Dylas Caffaret marched his own army on it, of course, astride a mighty griffin as his steed.

Rhagia’s griffins were prized creatures, part lion and part eagle, that dominated the air whenever they were used in warfare. Only the most highly trained riders that had raised their griffin since hatching could ride them without risk of being killed. Dylas, unfortunately, had no such training, but had a knight that walked at his side with the griffin’s reins in his hand. The man had flown in on a favor owed to Dylas for exactly this occasion. He kept nervously glancing at Dylas and his mount every time the beast huffed and kicked at the ground in irritation.

It didn’t help Dylas’ own nerves. Griffins were supposed to be temperamental even at the best of times. Dylas needed to cement this image in the minds of his people, however, lest they forget his exploits once he eventually left the military and assumed the Caffaret patriarchal seat. Even if he knew this creature could tear him limb from limb if it wanted to. And it really seemed like it wanted to.

Dylas’ nerves did eventually get the better of him as he dismounted only a few strides into the main courtyard, quickly backing away when the beast started stomping at the ground. That had been glorious enough, surely? He could walk from here.

Remembering his image, Dylas straightened his posture as his officers all fell into step with him. The cheers redoubled as the commander of the army deigned to walk among his own soldiers. Dylas almost snorted in contempt. These commoners were too easy. It would have been the perfect day for Dylas. He’d secured victory for his empire and had earned enough renown to last a lifetime. People would tell the story of this siege for centuries. Everything was just perfect.

But then he caught sight of Aldric’s squad.

The five of them all loitered off to one side of the fort’s main courtyard, watching Dylas with undisguised distaste. The only exception was Aldric, who smirked at Dylas like he knew every secret he possessed and was just waiting for the right moment to stab him in the back with it.

Many of Dylas’ soldiers had already noticed Aldric and his squad members. Most of them knew who he was by now. He had a reputation for being clever, ruthless, and effective. Not to mention his penchant for somehow not dying, despite Dylas’ attempts to “encourage” the opposite. Dylas saw the open respect in his own soldiers’ eyes and scowled. Was that his goal? To steal the army away from Dylas? Like hell he would!

Dylas stalked over to them, his escort in tow. When they were face to face, Dylas’ people lining up behind him in a perfect mirror of Aldric’s own, they simply stared at each other in silence. Several passing soldiers noticed the sudden tension and quickly vacated the area, but other braver souls stuck around to watch the sparks fly. Dylas made a mental note to speak to their commanding officers later.

“You did your job, then?” Dylas asked stiffly, doing his best to maintain his dignity as an officer. Aldric made a show of looking around himself at the surrounding fort, then gave Dylas a blank expression. Just to be infuriating.

“You have a fort now, don’t you? I’d say you’re welcome, but I wouldn’t mean it.”

Caffaret only let his mask slip for a moment to glare hatred at Aldric before he was back to being a proper military commander. “And was it necessary to burn everything in it to ashes? We could have used those supplies to relieve our own soldiers, still holding the perimeter against Verona. Or did you not think of those outside your own group? Should I have sent someone else?” Maybe Dylas could make his people see Aldric as selfish.

“If you could send someone else, you would have,” Aldric answered easily. “Besides, your family’s got money, right?” He then raised his voice to be heard by everyone nearby. “I’m sure you could wipe out our army’s needs in a flash if you really wanted to. Splendid chance to look like the hero, and I know just how much you love to do that.”

Then he hooked a thumb back to the retreating griffin knight, still projecting his voice. “Or did you already blow your budget on the rent-a-griffin? Does he do parties? Because the penal squad’s going to be celebrating our victory later.”

Caffaret could feel the blood rushing to his face in furious humiliation. Already, his own people were giving him dubious looks, some even outright frowning at him. The looks of respect Aldric received also increased. As if Dylas needed filthy vagabonds to do the job for him!

One officer standing behind Dylas wasn’t as composed in his response. He actually stepped forward, likely to berate Aldric, but then the hulking mountain of a man behind Aldric loudly cracked all of his knuckles just by flexing his hands. The officer suddenly decided to let the insult pass and quickly stepped behind Dylas again. Several nearby soldiers tried and failed to hide smirks or snorts of laughter. Dylas mentally screamed in rage. The conversation always spiraled out of Dylas’ control when he deigned to talk to this worm in public.

“Just stay out of the way. And make sure the rest of your pets outside the walls don’t break anything. You animals can all can sleep outside for the night,” Caffaret snarled before he stormed off with his retinue. The soldiers that had stayed to watch quickly saluted smartly as he passed by, but Dylas ignored everyone as he marched off into the barracks. With a terse order to his officers to go about their duties themselves, Dylas quickly located the command office that had been prepared for him ahead of time and shut himself up inside of it, breathing hard to control his anger.

No more. Dylas couldn’t let Aldric take any more of his glory from him. It would be so easy, too. All he needed was some ignorant soldier with a knife and an alibi, and this thorn in Dylas’ side would be gone for good. But those rats in the penal squad would get uppity if their precious leader was ever put in danger. He couldn’t just kill the lot of them, as cathartic as that would be, without causing a stir. Martial law may have given him great leeway over his own penal squad, but he couldn’t just wholesale slaughter them. Bribery and coercion hadn’t worked either, and anyone that Dylas had sent to threaten Aldric’s people often wound up with suspicious injuries that they refused to talk about.

Dylas could never read Aldric. He was infuriatingly belligerent, but he wasn’t stupid. Every attempt Dylas had made to discredit or embarrass the man had failed, or worse, ended up backfiring. Aldric always had a plan, a backup plan in case that failed, and five more backups just in case. Dylas was sure he could crush the man if it came to open fighting, but he couldn’t do anything while knowing that he was a noble heir.

If only his spies could hurry the hell up and figure out which house he belonged to! Then the majority of Dylas’ problems would be solved. Every family registry Dylas and his people had dug through brought up nothing. It was entirely possible that Aldric was just some commoner lucky enough to be born with magical talent, but those were so exceedingly rare. Besides, there was no way a mere commoner could ever stand up to Dylas. Maybe he was just the bastard son of some important political figure?

Dylas had already agreed to give Aldric command of the penal squad, and now his once brilliant schemes had been stymied by a lack of necessary tools. It was surely that man’s fault that Dylas had so much trouble taking this place. And he would have taken this fort himself eventually, anyway! And that enemy camp two weeks ago! And that ambush party last month! Dylas just wasn’t so pathetic as to stoop to the cowardly tactics Aldric always employed, that was all.

A knock sounded at the door, and it took all of Dylas’ willpower not to burn a hole through both it and whoever stood behind it out of anger. “Enter!” he snapped.

The young officer that walked inside looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, but he produced a roll of paper and gently placed it on Dylas’ desk. “Update from the center forces, sir. Rhagia’s main army won their latest engagement but took heavy losses. Part of their west wing was routed and divided from them, and they are now fleeing further west from an enemy detachment. They number only a hundred but are being pursued by a force of three hundred who seem mostly made up of grizzik cavalry. High command has ordered that we assist them immediately.”

Dylas balked at the orders, even as he read them himself. He’d only just captured the fort, and now he was being asked to save a group of morons who’d gotten themselves separated? By military high command, no less?

Dylas knew that if the routed forces really were heading west, then he was the only one close enough to assist. He didn’t have to like it, however. Dylas couldn’t afford to send anyone important right now to help fetch a flock of lost little lambs who couldn’t fight for themselves. The empress had lost control of her own army and now he had to fix it. She’d better have yet another reward waiting for him after this chore was done.

Then Dylas had a thought. It was one of the more brilliant thoughts he would have every so often whenever circumstances lined up just perfectly. He needed to send reinforcements, but those reinforcements didn’t necessarily need to be successful. Surely the Empress would understand if Dylas didn’t send his best right away? He’d only just taken a fortified enemy stronghold, after all. He would need all the forces he had to secure it. A simple, smaller relief force might not be rewarded, but it would reasonably fulfill his obligations.

Even if it was very likely that said relief force would be doomed to failure. Especially if he wasn’t very clear about what they would be facing.

Oops, silly me. What were the enemy numbers again? Oh well. Probably not important.

Dylas’ mouth split into a wolfish smile as he looked towards the young officer still standing nervously in front of his desk. “Find Private Aldric Gurdis and bring him here. I have a new assignment for him.”

~~~

MINERVA COULDN’T IMAGINE how knights were expected to walk in all this armor and regalia, much less run for their lives. Even with two others helping her, trudging through the wilderness and the mud was exhausting on her old bones. She lost her balance for the millionth time and gasped in shock just before her bodyguard caught and righted her again.

“Your majesty, I must insist that you take your horse back,” Sir Waltin said from her other side as he did his best to guide her through the brush. He was the knight she’d placed in charge of her forces. Or at least, what was left of them. “I understand you need your armor for protection, but there is no reason you should have to walk on foot. If the veronian forces were to capture you —”

“Not another word from you, Waltin,” Minerva snapped. “That corporal was missing his damn legs! He needed it more than I, and he will not be left to die out here just because I don’t get enough exercise. I may be old, but I’m not so old that I can’t tan your backside until you need a horse just to go anywhere! Drop it!”

Sir Waltin looked stricken, but he thankfully quieted. Minerva felt bad for getting cross with him. He was only trying to do his job, after all. But her temper had been significantly stretched to the breaking point ever since their forces had been routed. That it was likely her fault this had happened at all didn’t help matters.

They had planned everything in advance. They were to attack Verona’s borders on three fronts, with her main forces in the middle. She, of course, would march with them to improve morale. Soldiers fought harder when they knew their sovereign was watching. At the pleading from her generals and her bodyguard, her forces had been stationed on the western flank in secret in order to protect her location. There should have been no reason that the enemy would ever think to find her there instead of at the very back, surrounded by elite troops.

And yet, they had. It had become obvious early in the engagement that the enemy forces were heavily listing to the west in mass numbers, so much so that they left their flanks completely exposed. Her generals had of course taken the golden opportunity laid before them, rolling up the enemy’s east flank while the rhagian western flank weathered the storm. But they had underestimated just how desperate the enemy had been to break through to Minerva, which she was now certain had been their plan all along. As soon as the western flank had been forced to pull back or suffer monumental losses, a cavalry unit that had clearly been waiting on standby immediately moved to divide their remaining forces and cut off Minerva from her allies.

The main army was too busy cleaning up the rest of the veronian army to assist and was already battered and exhausted, anyway. Minerva’s immediate forces, numbering only a bit more than a hundred, were on their own for the time being. Minerva was sure that someone had sent magical communications to another nearby force to assist immediately, but she wasn’t sure that would matter. Dylas Caffaret was supposed to be the closest, and he should have already been engaged in a fierce fight for Fort Tebris as part of their border assault plan. Minerva’s tired and weakened forces of less than a hundred, most of those wounded, couldn’t hope to stand a chance against the horde of mounted grizzik riders that pursued them now. The only reason they hadn’t already been caught was because of the overgrown forest they’d retreated through to try to lose them. They’d find her people eventually, however. The trail of so many people rushing through the woods would be obvious.

Sir Waltin, one of a handful of remaining knights that wasn’t wounded or dead, had tried to convince her to flee with her bodyguard. He claimed they would keep the pursuers busy long enough for them to escape and try to find a way back to civilization. Minerva had vehemently opposed the idea. She would not leave these people to die for the sake of her blunder, even if that was selfish of her as a ruler. She also wasn’t so daft as to think that her people really had any chance of surviving if they were forced to stop running and shield her retreat.

She had a third reason as well, but she kept it to herself for now. She was worried about how the enemy had known to find her in the western flank. Only her closest advisors had known that she wouldn’t be in the rearguard. It was uncomfortably likely that Minerva had a spy somewhere in her inner circle. What if they were here with her now? They could simply relay to their pursuers her location as soon as she tried to flee. Then they would run her down with ease.

A dark thought cropped up in Minerva’s mind as she looked to Sir Waltin again, his face still pinched with worry. Why was he so insistent that she run away? Was he a part of...?

Oh, gods damn it! Minerva had spent her whole life embroiled in politics, and the constant subterfuge and backstabbing of their three countries had forever ruined her belief in most people. But jaded as she might be, she couldn’t afford to doubt her own people now. Not with death nipping at their heels.

“I will fight and die for you, your majesty. You need only ask,” Minerva’s bodyguard stated. It was the first thing the woman had said this entire time, and it was probably meant to make Minerva feel better, but it had the opposite effect. That was, by far, the worst part of being an empress. She had sent young men and women to their deaths far too many times simply at her say so. Why should they die, barely older than children, while she lived on to be an old woman? Was it not her royal duty to preserve the generation that came after her? Could she only do that by paying with the blood of that very generation?

Minerva almost snapped at her bodyguard next, but she bit back her frustration and sighed. “Don’t say such morbid things, dear. We both need to make it through this. How could I face your father after you died for my sake? And after he begged me not to let you join my retinue.”

“How could I face my father if I let you die?” the woman countered. “I was aware of the risks when I joined against father’s wishes. I swore to lay my life down for yours, and I will carry that vow out if needed.”

Minerva looked through the visor of the woman’s helmet, even though her vibrant eyes were hidden in shadow. Yet another youngling would die for this old woman, one so full of promise and potential. Minerva just couldn’t let that happen. Not because of her own mistake.

“What would that boy you were so sweet on do? You said he always had a plan, that’s he’d fight until the bloody end, no matter the enemy. Would he run? Abandon everyone here and prioritize one life over a hundred?”

Her bodyguard didn’t answer for several long seconds. When she finally did, though, her words were a pained whisper.

“That’s not fair, Minerva.”

“No, it’s not, and I’m sorry. But I’m still going to take inspiration from him, all the same. The victor is not victorious if the vanquished does not yet consider himself so.” Minerva stopped moving long enough to force her bodyguard to do the same, placing both hands on either of her shoulders as she willed the young woman to heed her words.

“Live, Miraea. Protect me if you must, but live. I need my Angel and will continue to need her long after today. Your empress has spoken.”

Even without seeing her face, Minerva knew the woman’s normally stoic expression would be screwed up with emotion at such an order. But eventually, she dropped to one knee and bowed her head before the Empress of Rhagia.

“Your wish is my command, your majesty.”

Chapter 10

ALDRIC AND HIS INNER circle were outside the fort walls in a hastily constructed camp for the penal squad. His team had received a hero’s welcome from all his people the moment they’d returned. They were used to Aldric leaving for extended periods on dangerous assignments, but even he had to admit, this one had been particularly risky. Besides knowing how he and his inner circle were, everyone wanted to hear the story and had refused to leave him alone until he regaled them with the tale. Before he knew it, he had a bowl of stew in his lap and was sat around a campfire while over a hundred penal squad members surrounded him and his inner circle with rapt attention.

So he’d indulged them. It was mostly Talus spinning ludicrous embellishments as Aldric and Ida corrected him with every other sentence, but the squad ate it all up. It was well into the night by the time the story was finished. Aldric had been simply enjoying the moment of comradery, knowing that it did a lot for his people to have moments like this amidst all the bloodshed and suicide missions. Unfortunately, he’d overlooked someone, and that someone found him in the penal squad’s camp. Aldric’s moment of hero worship from his people abruptly ended as they all fled before the newcomer. They knew Aldric was in trouble the moment they saw the young man, and they suddenly wanted nothing to do with him.

Aldric’s normal confidence withered as he confronted his greatest foe. He was normally unflappable in almost any situation. And yet, there was one opponent that Aldric could never defeat.

“And the reason this infection in your arm is so bad is because you wasted all the healing scrolls I gave you,” Kedrin said in a deceptively calm tone. “Is that right?”

“Wasted isn’t the word I’d use,” Aldric argued. “More like I... repurposed them.”

“For blowing things up?” Kedrin clarified.

“Among other things,” Aldric hedged. He abruptly yelped in pain as Kedrin dumped an absurd amount of mana into his damaged arm. It healed the arm and combated the infection inside it, but it felt like Kedrin had just pinched Aldric’s mana pool.

“So, for blowing things up?” Kedrin repeated. The smile he usually sported was as sharp as a knife now.

“...... yes.”

Aldric’s inner circle all tried and failed to hide chuckles, and Daelus finally came to Aldric’s defense.

“To be fair, he did it for us. He used a good number of them when we got injured in a fire gone wrong. After that, we were a lot more careful and didn’t use them often. Besides, we rarely did any direct fighting. It was mostly hiding in shadows and harassing the enemy. The only reason his arm got infected was because of a dirty nail he brushed up against in one of the basement floors.”

Kedrin still frowned, looking unconvinced. “Many a man has been brought low by a simple infection that they ignored, and you all were gone for an entire week. If this had gone on for much longer, he could have developed sepsis. Aldric, I labored over those healing scrolls for ages just so you would have enough to keep you alive. I understand things happen, but you need to use them responsibly. Surely you’re clever enough to find a means of destroying many things without wasting precious resources?”

Aldric opened his mouth to argue, but Kedrin expected it and talked right over him.

“My healing spells, my rules. Next time, pack your own more efficiently. If you end up dying because you wasted my gracious gifts, I’ll find some way to resurrect you just to give you an earful before I send you off to the afterlife again.”

Aldric visibly sulked, realizing his friend had a point. Kedrin was probably the most kindhearted and affable man Aldric had ever met. That abruptly changed anytime someone he considered his patient was put into harm’s way. He only ever got like this when Aldric did something needlessly stupid that risked his health. Something he seemed to do a lot.

During the rest of his examination, Kedrin found a few more things wrong that weren’t as serious, though that didn’t stop him from giving Aldric a scolding for each one. When Kedrin finished his examination, Aldric’s inner circle was next. They mostly just had scrapes and bruises, though. He’d prioritized using the healing scrolls on them first. When Kedrin was finally done and looked at Aldric again, the visage of a stern healer had fallen away to be replaced by a concerned friend.

“I hate that this is the one thing I can do for you, Aldric. If I had any capacity to go out on these absurd adventures with you, I would. But until that day, please don’t make me need to worry about you any more than I already do. Can you promise me at least this much?”

Damn it. Kedrin had always been a master of guilt trips.

“Yeah, alright, I got it!” Aldric whined. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. And thanks for healing us all the time. We don’t know when Caffaret will call on us again, so it’s better to do all this now. I’ll need to put together more strategies tonight that we can use for when he does. I kind of exhausted my clever bag of tricks this time.”

Aldric had meant to make it sound like he was being cautious this time by making sure he planned carefully for the next mission, but Kedrin’s concerned frown didn’t go away. He eyed Aldric for a long moment before looking over his shoulder at the others and asking politely, “Apologies, but can you all give us a moment? I need to speak with him alone.”

Aldric knew he was in for something unpleasant and wasn’t looking forward to it. The others all leapt at the chance to not be lectured anymore and go back to the rest of the squad’s celebrating, abandoning Aldric to his fate. Kedrin took a seat next to Aldric on the log next to the campfire, staring into the flames as he clearly considered his words carefully.

Minutes later, he abruptly asked, “How long do you need to keep doing this?”

Aldric had been expecting another sermon on his personal health, so he was surprised by the question. “You know my goal,” he answered in confusion. “We can’t stop until we’re officially recognized as a legitimate part of the army.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“By embarrassing the hell out of Caffaret until someone else takes notice. If we can keep doing what he can’t, then someone’s bound to notice.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They have to, eventually.”

“They haven’t in five years, Aldric. Likely because Caffaret is covering it up and taking credit for your work. How much longer will it take?”

“As long as it needs to. We just need to wait for the perfect moment.”

“That’s not an answer —”

“That’s all I’ve got, Kedrin!” Aldric snapped. He immediately slammed his mouth shut again and stared at the ground, embarrassed with himself. “Sorry. I know you’re worried. But I have to do this. I can’t... I can’t go back until I do.”

Kedrin gave Aldric a sad look. He already knew Aldric’s story, so he didn’t need an explanation of where Aldric needed to go back to. Or to whom.

“I know you miss them,” Kedrin said gently. “But is there anything more to it?” Aldric looked at Kedrin in confusion, so he clarified. “I mean, why do you need fame to return to them?”

“Because they’ll be dragged down into shame with me,” Aldric answered, bewildered by the question. “I’ve already explained this to you. I can’t be with them if the shame of my family's name still hangs on me. You lived in Redan. You know what that pit of vipers is like. They’d take any chance to bring me and my friends low if I didn’t have some achievement that I could defend my honor with. Even after all this time, an attempted assassination of the empress isn’t easily forgotten. I will not be a burden on them like that.”

“Has that ever mattered to them before?” Kedrin asked. The question brought Aldric up short, and Kedrin continued before he could plan a response. “I admittedly have never met those two young women, but from you’ve told me, it never mattered to them you were from a disgraced house even before all this. Unless you’re saying that your father’s actions are unforgivable to them, and they have fully turned their backs on you?”

“No,” Aldric answered immediately, mostly because he couldn’t bear the thought of that being true. He wanted to believe that they understood, that they wouldn’t blame him for the actions of his family, but doubt ate at his heart. Years away had made the doubt worse. They were nobles, after all. It had been so long since he’d seen them. What would they think of him now? Was Aldric lying to himself?

Kedrin clearly picked up on Aldric’s doubt, because he gave him a knowing look. “I see,” he said simply. “So, it is required that you make a name for yourself to stand at their sides again, as you say. And staying in the penal squad, carrying out suicide missions day after day, is a requirement to do that? There’s no other way?”

Aldric’s confusion warped into frustration as Kedrin tried to dig deeper into his head. “You clearly have something you want to say, so just say it. You a therapist now, too?”

“Nope,” Kedrin answered easily, Aldric’s anger rolling off him like water on a duck. “Even better. I’m your friend. And as your friend, I have a theory that you likely won’t enjoy. I’m going to say it anyway, however, because I believe you need to hear it.”

Aldric hurried Kedrin up with an impatient hand gesture, wanting to get this over with. Kedrin remained quiet for a moment longer, then blurted out the last thing Aldric had expected to hear.

“I think you don’t want to go back. I think you want to remain in the penal squad forever.”

Silence descended on them both. Aldric could only blink stupidly at Kedrin, uncomprehending of where his friend had come up with such an absurd idea. He reflexively opened his mouth to deny it, but then he stopped. Something in his chest nagged at him and stilled his words. Kedrin saw the struggle on Aldric’s face and hurried on, apparently wanting to get his words out before Aldric could nay say him.

“Your whole life, you were told your family name was worth nothing, and that you were worth even less. Even your own family confirmed this bias against you, reaffirming it constantly as you grew older.” Kedrin looked to Aldric for confirmation, and Aldric could only nod mutely. “You held onto the belief that your mother would have been different, only to learn later that she felt the same as your father. The only people who ever believed in you at all were Zasia and Miraea, and you staked your entire self-worth on what they thought of you.”

Aldric didn’t confirm or deny that, simply saying nothing as he stared at the campfire in front of him. Kedrin took that as permission to continue.

“Now, however, their opinion is called into question, since you haven’t been in direct contact with them. As much as you want to believe in them, you can’t simply accept without hearing it from their own mouths that you are still worth something to them after your father’s betrayal. Never mind the fact that what your father did confirms, at least to you, what everyone ever thought about your family.” Kedrin leaned in close for emphasis. “And I can tell what you think of yourself now, even if you won’t admit it to me. You’re afraid that what this place has forced you to become is something they will be repulsed by.”

Aldric’s fists balled up involuntarily. Kedrin’s words were coming dangerously close to his own dark thoughts when he found himself alone with his memories. Kedrin noticed and seemed to move on to a different angle.

“Left to your own devices and with seemingly no one on your side anymore, you craved meaning that you normally would have gotten from your friends. You needed to belong somewhere and tried to find it in the military. And that same military once again told you that you are worth nothing by assigning you menial tasks and refusing to let you make a name for yourself. Until, of course, you found the penal squad. You finally meant something, so you gave your entire life over to it. You repeatedly put yourself in insane scenarios that no other member of the military would even consider as possible.”

Aldric was floundering for something to say, but he couldn’t. He felt like his soul was being unwound and displayed to him on a table. He couldn’t deny anything when it was so plainly presented to him like this.

“Your exceptional mind and talent have prevented you from failing as they would have,” Kedrin was still saying, “but I imagine that a healthy dose of luck was involved as well. That luck will not last forever. You will eventually hit a wall that even you cannot climb. I’m afraid you might try anyway, just to prove to others that you can, that you deserve to be known and respected. And in doing so, I fear that your desire to mean something to the rest of the world will get you killed.”

Kedrin paused just long enough to give Aldric a deep, measuring look, then delivered his finishing blow. “And I’m not sure you’d consider that a bad thing. A martyr must mean something to someone, after all.”

Aldric tried several times to get his mouth working and respond, but no noise came out. He suddenly desired nothing more than to be anywhere else right now. He didn’t want to talk about this. This was a stupid waste of time.

“I’m sorry to dump this on you all at once,” Kedrin said softly when Aldric didn’t respond. “But I’m not sure I can get you to really listen otherwise. You’d deflect everything with twisted logic or grim humor, assuming you didn’t just run away at the mere mention of it.”

Aldric visibly flinched, having caught himself just about to do exactly that with some sort of flimsy excuse. It simultaneously annoyed and comforted him that Kedrin had him so figured out by now. He sighed as he put his face in his hands, trying to organize his thoughts.

“I’ve explained this to you already,” Aldric began again, trying his best to sound reasonable. “All I need is recognition. I need something else for people to associate with me besides being a traitor’s son if I ever want to go back. Military accolades are the fastest way to make that —”

“What about you new spell paper?” Kedrin abruptly asked. Aldric stopped talking and stared in confusion.

“What?”

“Your new spell paper. I know you need my help to make it, but do you have any idea just how wealthy you could become by selling an invention like that? How much the magical world would change just from that single innovation alone? And gods know what else you could come up with given enough time and funding. You could easily build a reputation as a magical inventor. It even sounds like something you would genuinely enjoy.”

Aldric didn’t have a way of refuting that point, so he dodged it instead. “You don’t know that it would be that easy. Who would believe that I, a lowly sorcerer with a pathetic capacity for mana, could invent such a thing? Being a magical inventor would mean constantly dealing with nobles as well. And besides, your thinking is still wrong.” Aldric forced himself to laugh in dismissal. “I don’t want to die, Kedrin, if that’s what you’re implying. I very much want to live and have built quite the reputation for repeatedly succeeding at that. The moment I can go back without causing problems for myself or my friends, I will.”

Aldric found it odd that he couldn’t state that as confidently as he should have, but it was true, surely? It should be true. Kedrin’s words were just getting into his head and screwing with his thoughts. He wanted to go home, right? Why did his chest feel tight when he told himself that?

“I know you don’t actively seek death, but that’s not my point.” Kedrin leaned in close, clearly intent on discussing this, but still looking gentle and understanding. “May I ask why you haven’t attempted to contact either of your childhood friends since you left the capital? Not even once?”

Aldric answered immediately, relieved to have a readily available answer for once. It helped to get rid of the churning in his stomach. “Redan is in the center of the empire, and we’re all the way up near the north-east border. It’s not exactly a hop and a skip away. I can’t reliably reach them from here.”

“Sure, as a recruit five years ago, you wouldn’t have had the clout to send a message to a noble house while disguised as a commoner. But what about now?” Kedrin held up a hand to interrupt Aldric’s immediate reply. “Yes, yes, you’re even less reputable as part of the penal squad now. But the squad is my point. You have an entire group of talented and fiercely loyal followers who would do just about anything you asked them to do. Several of them specialize in... well, let’s be polite and say ‘covert operations’. You’ve already used them to intercept Caffaret’s messages to get a better idea of the army’s plans, all without them ever being found out. You don’t think one of them could slip a letter to Zasia and Miraea if you ordered them to sneak away and travel to Redan? It’s not like Caffaret or anyone else would notice they were gone.”

Aldric felt that uncomfortable feeling rising in his gut again. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said lamely. It was true, he hadn’t. How the hell had he not thought of that? And even now realizing he could easily do it, why did he instinctively not want to?

“Then I suppose you won’t mind if we take care of that now,” Kedrin said. He twisted around, as if to call out to the nearest penal squad member.

“STOP!” Aldric shouted before he could control himself. Kedrin immediately stopped and turned back around, but Aldric was staring at the ground. He did his best to control the shaking that had abruptly taken over his body. An indescribable terror had gripped his heart at the very idea of sending a letter. What the hell was this feeling?

Aldric felt Kedrin’s hands gently grip his shoulder as he spoke. “I am so sorry, Aldric. I wouldn’t ever corner you like this if I didn’t think you needed me to. Can you please tell me what you’re thinking? I want to help you.”

Aldric nervously looked around at the rest of the squad milling about their camp, his shaking hands growing worse, but Kedrin grabbed his chin and forced him to look the healer in the eye. “They don’t need to know. Everything you say now stays between you and me. I swear on my life. Now, please speak with me?”

Aldric didn’t respond at first, trying to get his body back under control. Kedrin didn’t rush him, simply rubbing his arm reassuringly and waiting for Aldric to be ready. When several minutes had passed, Aldric finally found the breath to say something. His emotionally raw state permitted only the truth to pass from his lips. Truth even he hadn’t been aware of until just now.

“I hate struggling,” he whispered, almost guiltily.

“What?”

“I hate it Kedrin. I’m supposed to be good at it, but I hate it.” When Kedrin still looked confused, Aldric continued. “I can’t deal with it anymore. The hatred, the unfairness, the bigotry. It’s awful. No matter what I ever tried, it never mattered to any of them. The failure, the pariah, the kid with all the problems no one wanted to deal with. That’s all I ever was to them. I don’t even remember how I ever dealt with it back then. I don’t want to struggle anymore. Why can’t I just live my life?”

“What about Zasia and Miraea? You would leave them behind?”

Aldric wanted to not answer that. He tried. But it all came bursting out of him. “I would have to go back to be with them, to subject myself to all that bullshit all over again. I don’t want to leave them. But I can’t ask them to leave Redan just for me. They have families there, Kedrin. Their lives are there. Their futures. I can’t tell them to leave all of that just because I’m a weak-willed coward.”

Kedrin nodded slowly at that. “Your fear does at least make some sense. I don’t agree with you, but I understand. I imagine being here is a far different experience, yes?”

“People respect me here,” Aldric answered simply. “They understand me and want me here. Need me here. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that before, Kedrin. And I don’t want it to stop.”

Aldric's words faltered as he fought tooth and nail against his feelings. It didn’t work. He didn’t want to say them, but they won out.

“I don’t want to go back. I miss Zasia and Miraea terribly... but I don’t want to go home. Can I even call it ‘home’ anymore? As awful as this place can be, it’s the only place I ever belonged. Even if I have to struggle here, too, at least I have a chance of success. Success I can grasp without others ripping it away before I could even try.”

Aldric despised how much he sounded like a scared child admitting all of this. His mind immediately turned on him and berated him for even talking about it, using every creative and cutting insult Aldric could think of. What kind of friend was he to just run away? He was supposed to be a survivor, wasn’t he? Hadn’t that been what Miraea had said?

“That makes sense,” Kedrin said easily, so simply that it caught Aldric off guard. He’d expected more disappointment or condemnation, but Kedrin seemed wholly unaffected by Aldric’s admission. He might have even looked a bit relieved.

“I can’t blame you for feeling that way,” he continued. “It’s an entirely normal, and even healthy, response to avoid the things that hurt you. I can’t imagine anyone else, not even myself, that could put up with such treatment daily. I’m amazed you ever could, Aldric. And I’m proud of you for becoming the good man you are today, despite having every reason not to.”

Aldric’s mind rejected the praise immediately out of hand. He wasn’t a good man. He’d killed people just to get ahead. Helping the penal squad had only been a side benefit to his joining them. It had served his own purposes as well. Dozens of them had died over the years, many because of Aldric’s own decisions and failures. Their faces haunted his nightmares, along with the tormentors of his youth.

Kedrin stood up and crouched in front of Aldric, grasping both of his shoulders and forcing him to look at him. His voice was quiet, but it was steely with firm belief.

“If you tell someone something often enough, they will believe it, no matter how true or false. So let me wipe the slate clean and give it to you straight.” His grip on Aldric’s shoulders firmed up, as if trying to will Aldric to believe his words. “People have told you your entire life that you are less than others. They are wrong. You have great worth, Aldric. To me, and to many others. You did not deserve to be treated that way. They were in the wrong, not you. And there will come a day when you show all of them just how wrong they were. You should be proud of yourself. I know I am.”

Aldric couldn’t speak. He felt like his tongue was swollen to three times its size. No one had spoken that way to him before. Zasia and Miraea may have felt that way, at one point at least, but they’d never looked him in the eyes and said it with such conviction. Despite a lifetime of being told the opposite, Aldric believed Kedrin, if only because Kedrin believed himself. The sense of relief and validation that washed over Aldric was almost enough to make him break down.

“If you never once step into Redan again, I will still say I am proud to be your friend,” Kedrin continued. “I would never ask you to expose yourself to the ignorant hatred and slander of nobles again, should you wish not to. I will say, however, that if you wish to live as you want in this empire, you will need to deal with them at some point. It’s not fair or just, but it’s true. You cannot escape the reach of noble power, even all the way out here. Not only because of their influence, but also because you are too good of a person to accept the way they behave without fighting against it. If you remained with the penal squad forever, your issues with Caffaret would eventually come to a head and force you into conflict with them again. Assuming you are not killed before then, of course. Then you really will have lost everything.”

Aldric nodded mutely. He’d known that for a while, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it. It was so easy to simply live with the penal squad and forget the rest of the world existed. But it did exist. Aldric still lived in it. He didn’t have to like it, and passionately didn’t, but his dislike ultimately didn’t matter.

He’d have better luck being angry at a mountain that wouldn’t budge when he pushed on it. He could fight for his own place, but he couldn’t upend an entire society’s worth of bias by grit and determination alone. HIs lack of any sort of merits after five years of struggling with the penal squad proved that.

“However, I know how brave you are,” Kedrin continued, “and I know how much you love those two. And if Zasia and Miraea see the same thing in you I do, then I know for certain that they miss you deeply. Even if it’s not today, even if it’s not years from now, I know you will one day be able to stand before them proudly. Even if you must go back into that lion’s den to do it, your friends will not leave you to fend for yourself. We will be with you every step of the way. With the gods as my witness, Aldric, I will not leave you to suffer the way you once did. Not while I still draw breath.”

Aldric didn’t know what to say to that. He wanted to agree, felt like he should, but even now he hesitated. Was it really worth it? To invite all that hostility, suffering and hurt back onto himself all over again? Aldric wanted to believe in his friends, he really did, but he might have been too jaded to. He’d been taught through repeated experience that things didn’t work out that way. And gods, was he ever tired of the disappointment that always came with that realization.

The soldier that ran up behind Kedrin saved Aldric from having to answer. Aldric’s squad was suddenly right next to him, all leveling distrustful gazes at the newcomer.

“Private Gurdis! You are to report to Commander Caffaret for your latest orders, immediately!”

If looks could kill, the stare that Kedrin leveled at the man would have required weeks of healing to recover from. The man went straight as a board, looking like he’d just stepped on a dragon’s tail and didn’t know how to escape. It was never wise to piss off a healer, especially if that healer might be in charge of saving your life one day.

“Tell him I’m coming,” Aldric told the man. He was glad to have an interruption so he could get some time to think. The soldier dashed off without another word, looking relieved to be dismissed.

“Gods damn it,” Kedrin snarled in a complete departure from his earlier gentleness. “Why now, of all times? What is that whoreson asking you to do now?”

“Easy, Kedrin,” Aldric said. He took Kedrin’s shoulder and patted it reassuringly, trying to get him to stop glaring at the soldier’s back as he hastily retreated. “Calm down. The boy’s just doing his job. Don’t grow him a third arm or something just because Caffaret is a prick.”

Kedrin recovered his bearings, but still frowned at Aldric. “Do you have to go now? Surely, you’ve earned a break! He can’t just —!”

“He can and just did,” Aldric interrupted, hopping up from his place on the log and directing a group of his people to prepare. They would need to be ready to move out at a moment’s notice, knowing Caffaret’s legendary impatience.

“It can’t be anything too exciting. We just took a fort. What could have possibly happened so soon that it’d be that dangerous?”

“I’ll prepare you some more healing scrolls while you’re gone,” Kedrin said, apparently not as optimistic. “Though, I can likely only make one. It’s better than nothing.”

Aldric nodded and hurried off to go find Caffaret, his inner circle already forming up around him. Kedrin’s words at his back stopped him before he could leave, however.

“Aldric? Please consider what I said. Remember, you now have three friends who eagerly await your return to them.”

Aldric didn’t look back, still lost in his thoughts and unwilling to discuss it further with his people so close.

“I’ll do my best, Kedrin,” he called over his shoulder.

~~~

IN THE TWO DAYS IT took Aldric and his relief force of over a hundred penal squad members to reach the fleeing allied forces, his conversation with Kedrin was still battling a pitched war in his mind against his more deeply ingrained thoughts. He’d been worried he’d be too distracted to carry out his newest assignment, but when he finally arrived, all previous thoughts were blown away by the problem now before him. It seemed Caffaret had failed to mention several things that would have been wonderful to know ahead of time.

“Well, crap,” Aldric muttered to no one as he took in the scene before him.

They had determined beforehand where the allied forces were likely retreating to. Aldric and some of his people were positioned on top of a ravine. It overlooked a wide forest that abruptly dipped low into a small but steep canyon a few hundred meters away, resembling a spoon scoop dug out by some god. It must have been severely flooded in the recent past, because the trees that had been nestled inside the canyon were all drowned, their branches bone white and barren. The year was approaching late spring, so the ground stayed perpetually muddy from rain runoff and created a sort of shallow bog in the dead forest. It was a bizarre hole of death and decay randomly placed in the middle of a normal forest, and Aldric didn’t relish the idea of going in there.

But, of course, their allies had chosen this dreadful place as their last line of defense. Being in an actual valley of death probably wasn’t a bad omen, right?

Aldric could see the rhagian soldiers all huddled together amongst the cover of the drowned forest. It was unlikely that they could hide there for long, as their regalia and equipment stood out like sore thumbs amongst all the grey, white, and brown, but it was at least something. They all looked haggard and exhausted from their frantic fleeing. Aldric imagined they wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight, even with the terrain to their advantage.

On paper, it wasn’t a terrible place to make a last stand. Enemy forces would get tangled up in the dead foliage and deep mud, and the rhagians could set traps, assuming they had any, to at least whittle down the enemy number to something more manageable. The canyon slopes to the east and north were gradual enough that the rhagians could fight up it without getting too exhausted, while the slopes to the west and south, facing Aldric’s group, were steep drop offs that rose at almost a ninety-degree angle from the ground. The rhagians had placed the steeper cliff walls at their rear to protect from surprise attacks or being flanked. It provided a natural funnel to filter their foes through only a few at a time.

It also gave them little option for retreat. Their backs were literally against the wall. If the enemy had archers, they might line the lip of the canyon and fire down on the soldiers like fish in a barrel. And despite what a hard time the enemy might have navigating such rough terrain, the rhagians were stuck dealing with the same problem. It wasn’t an ideal place to find themselves, but in an emergency like this one, it would have to do.

But sheer numbers tended to render any tactical advantage a moot point. Aldric’s scouts had forged ahead and brought back more concrete information on the enemy force. It wasn’t good news.

The rhagians were badly outnumbered. The “splinter force” that had been pursuing them, a force that was supposed to be about the same size as the fleeing force, was roughly three times bigger than Caffaret had reported. To make matters worse, it was a horde of grizzik riders, mounts that could easily navigate the swampy terrain while wreaking havoc on Aldric’s allies. The rhagians, in contrast, were exhausted, out-manned, equipped only with a handful of horses that looked dead on their feet, and heavily wounded.

The situation had the word “trap” written all over it. This wasn’t a rogue portion of the enemy army that was pursuing an easy kill. This was a concerted effort to wipe out the fleeing rhagian soldiers. Aldric didn’t understand why they would go to such lengths. They’d chased their prey for miles, far away from the major conflict that they should have been more interested in. What was so special about this group of rhagian soldiers?

Caffaret likely would have known most of the information Aldric’s people had been forced to discover on their own. He’d simply elected not to tell Aldric about it, likely hoping Aldric and his people would meet their ends out here. It would also explain why he’d been ordered to take every available penal squad member with him. He could wipe them all out with a single assignment.

It wasn’t the first time Caffaret had sent Aldric on a ridiculously dangerous assignment, but this was his most blatant attempt by far to get them killed. And if they did get wiped out today, no one would remain to tell the story. Caffaret was in the clear.

So, decision time. What to do? They would all end up dead if they assisted their allies. If they retreated, they would be branded cowards and insubordinate, then hanged. If they simply ran off on their own and left the army entirely, the same thing would happen after months of running for their lives in enemy territory, assuming the grizziks didn’t run them down first. Caffaret had put them squarely between a rock and a hard place, and both were slowly squeezing tighter the longer Aldric sat here and thought over what to do next. He could already see the dust cloud billowing in the distance that signaled numerous incoming cavalry.

“What do we do, boy?” Daelus asked from Aldric’s side. Aldric did his best not to startle in surprise as he remembered he wasn’t alone. His inner circle, as always, hadn’t left his side.

“You look like you’re trying to shit out a brick,” Ida commented dryly. “That bad?”

“You have eyes, don’t you?” Talus answered for Aldric. “This is bad. Terrible, even. Like, as bad as our last assignment years ago when Boss first showed up.”

The rest of the penal squad all loitered behind them, easily able to see the impossible task that had been set before them. All of them, man and woman alike, wore grim faces. They also had expectant looks in their eyes as they all stared at Aldric, waiting for orders.

Their unwavering faith was quite intimidating, but it reminded Aldric that he wasn’t responsible for just himself. He wouldn’t let these people die just because Caffaret had a vendetta against him personally. His conversation with Kedrin bounced around in his skull again, unprompted. Here he was, pitting himself against the unfairness of the world again, only two days after saying he didn’t want to anymore. Seriously, what was his life?

“Daelus, get everybody up and ready to move,” Aldric said, using Bredig’s sturdy body to leverage himself up into a standing position. “We’re approaching the canyon from the south. Quickly and quietly.”

Aldric’s inner circle all stood and waited for more info before Daelus finally asked, “And then what, boy?”

“And then,” Aldric sighed, “we hope I packed enough spell paper. Apparently, it’s time to field test my blood bond enchantments.”

~~~

MINERVA COULD ONLY stand and watch as their pursuers came closer and closer. She could easily make out their front lines now, a long row of soldiers all mounted on large lizard-like beasts. The grizziks stood a foot taller than a man and as wide as a bull, with pointed snouts that housed their long and deceptively deadly tongues. As they got closer, Minerva saw their vicious claws that tore into the ground as easily as shears through cheap cloth, allowing the massive creatures to move with surprising grace and speed. It was unnervingly easy to imagine those claws tearing into her own people with little resistance.

Her soldiers all began shouting orders, trying to set up a defensive line to meet their attackers. It all seemed hopeless to Minerva, but she couldn’t show that. She stood on top of a boulder overlooking the canyon floor, still in her bedraggled but sturdy armor and making a show of fearlessness. Miraea was at her side, kitted out in the finest armor the empire’s smiths could make. In her hand was a long white staff, an enchanted item for enhancing mana flow and spell potency. Minerva couldn’t see the young woman’s face under her helmet visor, but she could imagine that it was as stoic and passive as usual, even with death knocking on their door. For the umpteenth time, Minerva wondered if allowing this brilliant girl to go against her father’s wishes and join her retinue was doing a disservice to the world. Now she would likely die here.

But then a bizarre thing happened. All the grizzik riders, who moments before had been charging forward with the clear intent of wiping them out, all suddenly halted. They were arrayed in a formation that blocked the entrance to the canyon, but they simply stood there as if waiting for something. An uncanny silence filled the dead canyon, with not even the sound of the wind making it this far down.

A single grizzik rider emerged from the column. His fellow soldiers all split to either side to allow him passage in a clearly rehearsed maneuver. His armor was a faint golden color that twinkled even in the fading daylight. It covered every inch of his body and was clearly made by a skilled hand. As the man continued riding forward, he came close enough for Minerva to see rune script decorating almost every inch of the metal. This man was no common soldier. He was likely a knight, if not a general, from a prestigious veronian house.

The gold-plated man’s mount came to a halt a mere fifty meters away from the frontline of Minerva’s soldiers, all of whom were watching on with trepidation but didn’t immediately attack. This man had clearly approached them to parley, for some reason. The knight dismounted and promptly bowed with the grace expected of a noble.

“Lady Minerva Juno Rhagia, Empress of Rhagia,” he shouted in a clear, but surprisingly youthful, voice. “I apologize we must meet like this, but I wish to parlay with you before anything further occurs.” He reached down to his waist and slowly unbuckled his sword belt, allowing it to fall to the muddy canyon floor. “May I approach in good faith?”

Minerva was so surprised by the out-of-place civility from those that had hunted them down that she didn’t immediately respond. Her eyes flicked back to the formation of grizzik riders, but they all seemed content to sit and wait for their leader. This didn’t appear on the surface to be a trap, and it wasn’t like the enemy force needed guile and cunning to defeat the pitiful rhagian forces. But she’d already been tricked once today. She’d need to prod this man and find out what she could first.

“Apologies,” she shouted back. “But I find my faith in others severely lacking as of late, particularly in those that call themselves the enemies of my empire. One assassination attempt was enough for a lifetime.” The soldier paused for a moment, digesting her answer, before he stood straight again and removed his golden helmet. Minerva expected him to look furious at her refusal, or at least annoyed, but he looked... regretful? He was young and very handsome, with short blonde hair and eyes blue enough that Minerva could see them shining all the way from her boulder. He couldn’t have been any older than his early twenties. If someone so young was leading an elite force such as this, he was either very talented or just of very good breeding. Minerva hoped for the latter.

“I suppose I can understand that,” the knight said, sounding genuinely conciliatory. “And I cannot imagine that our ambush of you paints any of us in a favorable light in your esteemed eyes.”

“Enough pleasantries,” Minerva interrupted, trying to take control of the conversation. “State your demands. What do you want?”

Again, in place of the anger Minerva expected at being interrupted, the young knight expressed reluctance. “Your Majesty, I beseech you. Please surrender. Your soldiers will be released unharmed, and you will be taken into my personal custody. I swear on my life and my house that you will not come to harm while you are with me.”

How easy that would be. Minerva was almost tempted. If it meant that her people could live in place of her, she would gladly have accepted. But she wasn’t that naïve. Any offer made by the veronians was a lie. Thagrius was still the spineless coward he’d always been. It wouldn’t be beneath him to try to destabilize her empire a second time, just so he could rush in to fill the power vacuum.

“That is quite the bold claim, knight,” Minerva finally answered after several moments of tense silence. “And yet, you have me at a disadvantage. You have yet to introduce yourself, or why your family’s house would matter to me at all.” She was talking more to stall than anything else. Perhaps her people could take advantage of this calm before the storm and take out the enemy leader?

Even after questioning the honor of himself and his house, the man acted with social grace, blinking in surprise before he smiled in embarrassment. Minerva was beginning to doubt if this man was actually a noble. It seemed impossible to anger him with insults.

“Ah, my apologies, your majesty, that was most rude of me. This is my first time speaking to one of your station, so I might not do so properly. Please forgive my blunder.” After that odd bout of honesty was over, the knight bowed formally once again.

“Allow me to introduce myself, your majesty. My name is Sir Balrus Atticus, a knight in service to King Thagrius of Verona.”

Chapter 11

“NEVER HEARD OF YOU,” Minera answered in one last effort to rile up this Sir Balrus. It didn’t. Instead, he merely nodded in acknowledgment before repeating his politely worded demands.

“Regardless, I give you my word that no harm shall befall you while you are in my custody. If it was not already obvious, your majesty, you are the reason we have chased you so far. We have no interest in your soldiers, so long as they do not stop us. I hope that all of this can be ended without a single drop of blood being shed.”

Minerva let the silence stretch out as she considered her options. Her people had no hope of winning, she knew. Every one of them would proudly fight and die in her name, but it still tore at her that she was so powerless here. If she wasn’t so exhausted, if she hadn’t already performed mass summonings during the main battle hours ago, she would have been able to stop this on her own. Now she was forced to rely on the children of her country to fight in her stead. It was humiliating and heartbreaking, but it was reality.

“My soldiers!” Minerva cried out, her voice filling the entire canyon with royal authority. “Answer this man! Shall I surrender myself into the hands of the enemy so that you may all go free? Is this an acceptable offer to you?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation. Despite their exhaustion and their fear, their empress had challenged their honor and sense of duty. There was only one proper answer to such a question.

A thunderous roar of defiance and war rose from the throats of every rhagian soldier, man and woman, knight and footman, healthy and wounded. Despite their small number, the volume caused bits of rock to come crumbling down off the canyon walls and vibrated the muddy water around their ankles. Their answer was clear. They would fight, or they would die. Just as warriors of the glorious Empire should live.

Minerva adored all of them for it. And hated herself for asking it of them.

As the rhagian forces continued to shout, Sir Balrus’ hopeful face melted into stony resolve. The time for talking was long past. He calmly climbed back on his mount and reseated his helmet, and with a single wave of his hand, his horde of grizzik riders raised their own war cries as their mounts charged forward.

~~~

ALDRIC’S PEOPLE HAD finished their long crawl through the brush to perch themselves on the lip of the canyon. They just in time to catch both sides slamming together in a tangle of weapons and limbs. The sound of steel striking steel rang out over the valley and set Aldric’s ears to ringing. Despite the chaos, however, he was lost in a storm of thoughts. This situation was far further beyond him than he’d first thought.

He’d heard the parley that had taken place before the fighting had started in earnest. The gods damn empress of Rhagia was here. And the veronians were led by a noble knight of clearly high birth, making several of his people likely mages. Several things made more sense now, and yet many more didn’t. Did the gods really hate him this much?

“It’s now or never, boy!” Daelus called out over the tumult from Aldric’s right. He and the rest of the penal squad had just finished spreading out along the length of the canyon’s wall, crouched down low and out of sight. Aldric looked to Daelus blankly for only a moment before his battle senses reasserted themselves.

Whatever. All three monarchs could be down there for all Aldric cared right now. He needed a clear head on his shoulders if he wanted this to work.

Aldric wished they all had bows they could fire from up here, but Ida and Talus were the only ones who were any good with one. Besides, they’d never had enough bows available to them to matter. Each penal squad member only possessed what they could scrounge from the battlefield, and even that was limited to cheap equipment that was usually in poor condition. Aldric would have to improvise with a weapon of his own.

“Wait for the signal!” Aldric answered Daelus, his eyes on the battlefield and, more importantly, the division between the enemy’s front and rear ranks.

A cavalry force’s advantage lied in speed and hit-and-run tactics. If this Sir Balrus character had any sense, he wouldn’t commit all their forces at one time into a tight space with foliage that only had one real exit. They would instead charge in waves. The front line would charge in and wreak havoc, then quickly fall back as the second line charged between the gaps of the retreating front line and did the same. Rinse and repeat.

The rhagians put up a valiant defense as they did their best to form a shield wall, but the front column of cavalry slammed into them and sent most scattering. Within moments, the grizziks were flicking out their long tongues and snapping up the ones that had already collapsed, finishing them between their powerful jaws that could tear through steel.

Despite the devastation, however, the grizzik riders couldn’t afford to stay still for long, or they risked being ganged up on. The brave rhagian soldiers were already grouping up around individual riders and trying to separate them from their mounts. As Aldric had expected, the cavalry immediately retreated as soon as one or two of the mounted warriors were taken down.

“Boss, we need to do it now!” Ida screamed at Aldric from her place several squad members down the line of the canyon’s lip.

“Hold on!” Aldric called back. He had to focus on the fight to find the right moment, but he also had to keep a tight grip on his mana pool for what came next. He still hadn’t mastered this after several years of practice, but now he was trying it on more targets that he’d thought himself capable of. It was their only chance to make any kind of difference, however.

Whoever was commanding the rhagian forces knew their stuff, because the soldiers didn’t pursue the retreating cavalry. They instead formed their shield wall again, just in time to intercept the second charge from the veronian rear line. Again, the mounted warriors slammed into the rhagians and tore into them with tooth, claw and spear. Worse, a handful of mages from the safely withdrawn first line were lobbing spells over the heads of their allies. That might put a wrinkle in Aldric’s plan later, but he’d just have to adapt.

Then the first line began its second charge while the second line pulled back. Both cavalry lines had been bloodied, if only slightly, and there was still a gap between the two before they would trade places again. Aldric wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this.

“Aldric!” Daelus roared, the worry in his voice coming through clearly.

“Igni petre kishir!” Aldric cried out, then yanked hard on his mana pool.

The sudden, long range magical working made Aldric nearly pass out. All along the line of penal squad members, small spell scrolls lit up with fire as Aldric’s enchantments responded to his will. Aldric’s theory had proven correct; as long as his blood was infused in the runes, he could activate simple spells at long range without touching them. Some of them clearly lit more than others, but all of them were on fire. Aldric considered that a better field test than he’d had any right to hope for.

The penal squad didn’t waste any time. Seeing their allotted scrolls burning, they immediately tossed them into the canyon below, taking care to clear the rhagians and land their shots between the two veronian cavalry lines. The ground was still muddy and flooded, so any fireballs that fell there simply went out. But the drowned trees and brush, all dried out and dead, almost immediately caught fire. The blaze quickly spread to the rest of the dead forest and drew a wall of fire between the two lines of enemy grizzik riders. One line couldn’t escape, while the other couldn’t assist their trapped allies.

Aldric was glad to have learned how much grizziks hated fire. The mounts immediately began panicking as they were quickly surrounded by flames, some throwing their riders and making to scamper up the side of the canyon to safety. The abrupt chaos broke any semblance of formation the cavalry line had and being trapped by the wall of fire rendered their speed advantage useless.

The rhagian soldiers seemed collectively bewildered at this sudden turn of events. Some of them were also hurt by the flames or trampled by panicking grizziks, but there was little Aldric could do about that. He could only keep moving forward, and this next step was even crazier.

“Jump now! Aim for a veronian!”

Gods bless his people. Even though he’d just said something insane, even though they’d stared at him in stupefied shock when he’d explained his plan on the way here, they did exactly as he asked without hesitation. With shouts of fear mixed with war cries of determination, every member of the penal squad, Aldric included, leaped from the canyon wall and into the fray thirty feet below.

Aldric took his own advice, aiming his jump to land squarely on the back of a veronian soldier that had just been thrown from his mount. The impact knocked all the air out of Aldric’s lungs, but it broke his fall instead of the fall breaking him. It also broke the back of the poor soldier he’d just landed on as the man was driven like a nail into the muddy ground. Aldric’s head briefly submerged in half a foot of muddy water before he broke the surface again, gasping both for air and from the pain.

Holy hell. He wasn’t dead. His moment of elation at being alive didn’t last long, however. He could only watch as other penal squad members fell from the canyon lip above, some not as lucky as Aldric. Most had made it with limited injury, but some had missed their marks entirely and slammed into the earth at full speed, clearly dead. Aldric shoved his regrets to the back of his mind before they could take hold of him. He didn’t have the luxury of mourning right now. Instead, he struggled to his feet to take stock of the situation.

It was probably the worst place he’d ever found himself in. His first mission with the penal squad included.

Aldric almost immediately realized the first flaw in his improvised plan; none of the rhagian soldiers knew who the hell Aldric and his people were. The penal squad wasn’t given uniforms, only wearing tattered cloaks that they’d sewn together from dark cloth, so from the rhagians’ perspective, a group of armed and insane individuals with no obvious allegiance had suddenly rained fire from the sky before dropping like stones onto their enemies. The rhagians seemed hesitant to break their formation and immediately engage this new threat, but they still watched both sides warily. It was unlikely they all could work together to mount a counteroffensive like Aldric had planned.

The second problem stemmed from the first; this battlefield was complete and utter chaos. Fire was an effective tool in war, when used appropriately, but it wasn’t an ally. It didn’t care who it burned. While Aldric’s crazy plan had put the veronians off balance, it had also disrupted any tactics the rhagians had been planning to use. They were left fighting in pockets of four or five combatants, simply killing enemies as they came within range. Grizziks that hadn’t yet escaped were trampling anyone unfortunate or stupid enough to be in their way, rhagian and veronian alike. The fight had essentially devolved into a war of four factions: rhagians, veronians, the penal squad, and a horde of terrified and panicking animals.

The rear line of veronian cavalry had already recovered and was moving away from the canyon’s entrance. Aldric guessed they were trying to circle around the wall of fire blocking them off and descend the canyon from the rear with the climbing ability of their mounts. Yet another thing Aldric hadn’t been able to plan anything for. Some of the trapped frontline cavalry that were mages were even trying to cast water magic to put out the flames blocking their retreat. The raging inferno was making their efforts difficult, but they would make progress eventually. If Aldric didn’t hurry, his people and the rhagians would all be slaughtered.

Aldric abruptly remembered that he was standing around gawking in the middle of a fight when a veronian soldier, a knight based on his plate armor, tried to behead him with a wild sword swing. Aldric immediately dropped to the ground and drew his daggers, stabbing one into the soldier’s thigh between the knee gap of his armor. The man shrieked in agony but didn’t drop. Instead, he punted Aldric’s face with his steel boot hard enough to send Aldric tumbling several meters backwards through the mud again.

Great. An enforcer. At this point, why not?

Aldric had only just righted himself again when the knight was back, sword swinging a promise of death. Knowing he couldn’t beat his opponent in a contest of strength, Aldric dove to the side at the last moment. The blade hummed as it cut through the air just over Aldric’s head, but the only thing Aldric could do back was ineffectually slap at the knight’s breastplate as he fell to the ground. It left Aldric flat on his back and stuck in the mud. The knight’s sword was already back, tip poised to gouge out Aldric’s chest.

“Igni jorum minitas!”

Aldric winced as he tapped into another blood bond, though this one was much smaller and closer. The slip of spell paper Aldric had slapped to the knight’s chest when he’d dodged that last attack glowed blue before igniting.

Normal fire wouldn’t have done anything to that armor, but Aldric had taken inspiration from his experiments years ago with Miraea’s magic. He’d sacrificed the size of the flame in order to dramatically increase its heat in a miniscule area. The result was a wire-thin beam of blue fire that shot through the knight’s armor, chest, and heart like they weren’t even there. The beam burned itself out in mere milliseconds, but it had already done its job.

The knight hobbled in place for a bit, staring at the smoking pinprick left in his chest with horrified shock, before his eyes rolled up and he fell backwards into the mud, dead. Aldric scrambled to his feet just in time to dodge a spear thrust from yet another soldier. Based on his regalia, this one was a rhagian.

“I’m on your side, dumbass!” Aldric yelled, but the soldier either didn’t hear him or didn’t believe him. He thrust his spear again, and this time Aldric was ready for it. He batted the weapon aside before stepping into the man’s guard, driving a heavy punch right into the man’s face. The soldier’s open-faced helm didn’t save him as he was knocked onto his butt. Aldric’s follow up kick to the man’s chin knocked him the rest of the way down, out cold.

Aldric quickly propped the man up against a dead tree that wasn’t already burning so he wouldn’t drown in the muddy water. He and his people didn’t have time to fight two different enemies, but he couldn’t just kill his own allies. He needed to find the person in charge of the rhagians, and people like that were usually heavily guarded at the back of their forces.

They also just happened to be, as Aldric’s brain helpfully reminded him, the empress of Rhagia. That was bound to be the most awkward conversation of Aldric’s life. Assuming he got that far.

Aldric looked around until he found exactly who he’d been looking for. Bredig, still weaponless, was throwing rhagians and veronians alike around himself like they were dolls. He’d taken a few nasty cuts, but he didn’t seem to mind them as he kept pummeling anyone stupid enough to get near him.

“Bredig!” Aldric shouted. The big man looked towards him. Aldric pointed towards the rear of the rhagian formation, beyond countless clusters of skirmishing soldiers. “Make me a hole!”

Bredig only nodded. After clobbering another soldier with more bravery than sense that had tried to sneak up on him, Bredig dashed over to Aldric. Aldric was confused at first, but then Bredig picked him up under one arm like a house cat and turned to face a nearby dog pile of rhagians, veronians, and even penal squad members that were blocking the way.

With a ferocious war cry, Bredig charged the group of skirmishing soldiers with his shoulder low and pointed like a battering ram. Aldric noticed at the last second that Ida and Talus were in the group of fighters. Both went wide-eyed with panic before shoving away their opponents and running for their lives.

The rest of the poor bastards never even saw the runaway carriage that plowed into them. Bodies scattered like matchsticks as Bredig bulled through them all without stopping. Another smaller group just behind them also went flying as Bredig barreled through them as well. The groups after that finally seemed to notice the death that was charging towards them, and either dove out of the way or foolishly tried to fight before being blasted back. Aldric wondered if he could just ride Bredig like a war horse all the way to the back of the line, but it wasn’t to be.

A javelin whistled through the air, catching Bredig in his right calf. The warrior who’d thrown it must have also been an enforcer, because the weapon passed cleanly through the leg without stopping.

Bredig was a bear of a man, but he was still human. His leg buckled, sending him face first into the ground as he curled up around Aldric to protect him from the fall. The knight who’d thrown the weapon tried to take advantage and stab down with another javelin at Bredig, but he caught Ida’s arrow with his eye, perfectly aimed through his helmet’s visor, and fell over dead. Not even enforcers survived pointy objects going into their brains.

“Boss!” Ida yelled as she extricated Aldric from Bredig’s arms. Talus ripped off one of his jacket sleeves and applied it to Bredig’s badly bleeding leg. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Aldric lied as he held his newly bruised ribs. He checked on Bredig and found that he wasn’t in any condition to keep fighting. They’d made pretty good progress, but now they were without Bredig and deep inside the rhagian lines. Aldric could already see rhagian knights taking notice of them and heading their way.

“We need to get to the command and let them know who we are!” Aldric yelled over the screaming and the killing.

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” Talus asked from his place at Bredig’s side, watching as the chaos continued to unfold.

“We can’t drive them back if we’re all fighting each other!” Aldric shot back. “Talus, take Bredig and go find Daelus. We’re going to need him. Tell him to get as many of our people as possible to stop fighting with the rhagians. Ida, you’re with me. We’re punching through. Injuries are fine, but no killing!”

Talus recruited a nearby penal squad member to help haul Bredig away while Ida and Aldric pushed on. They weaved in between groups of fighting enemies and allies alike, only taking down the ones that got in their way. Aldric did his best to limit casualties, but his opponents weren’t giving him the same courtesy. Ida had been forced to put arrows in the legs of three soldiers that had tried to gang up on Aldric, rendering them useless from here on out.

Aldric wandered from cluster to cluster, desperately searching for the empress. Minutes passed as he did, and Aldric was starting to suspect that maybe the woman had made a break for it the moment the fighting had begun. Then Ida’s eagle eyes caught sight of her.

“Boss!” Ida shouted. She pointed to a nearby cluster of heavily armored knights with expensive looking enchanted weaponry, all huddled around a singular figure.

The empress of Rhagia looked much like Aldric remembered her, likely in her seventies now and grey-haired, but she still stood proudly in luxurious armor that seemed out of place on her. Or at least, it had been luxurious. Now it was a dented, muddy remnant of its former glory. The woman herself looked little better. Her hair had been pulled back in tight braids at one point, but was now loosely hanging around her face in frayed tatters. Even knowing how old she was, she looked several decades older from the exhaustion on her face alone. She had her eyes closed and was moving her mouth like she was muttering something, paying no attention to the battlefield at all. She also hadn’t seen him yet.

Aldric sprinted for them, headless of those trying to intercept him as Ida covered him with her arrows. He didn’t really have a plan for how to convince these people he was on their side, and he imagined his suicidal dash towards their leader while Ida shot at their allies wouldn’t make a great first impression, but he had to try. Every moment wasted was another moment one of his people could die.

Two of the knights broke off from their defensive circle around the empress to intercept Aldric. He imagined they were likely some of the strongest mages in the empire to be guarding over her. They were mere seconds from slaughtering Aldric and Ida without a thought, and there would be nothing they could do about it. If Aldric was really going to do this, he needed to do it now.

So Aldric did what he always did when he was out of options. He trusted his gut and improvised.

“HOUSE DENGARIUS HUMBLY GREETS THEIR EMPRESS!”

Aldric’s full on sprint suddenly turned into a sliding dive as he abruptly prostrated himself, screaming the formal greeting of a noble meeting their sovereign. Mud filled his mouth and nose as he did, but even as he came to a stop, he didn’t raise his head up. His hands were planted on either side of his bowed head in a blatant display of supplication. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ida stumble to a bewildered stop next to him, looking at Aldric like he was insane. Maybe he was, but he still grabbed her arm and yanked her down with him in an awkward bow.

Aldric tensed for what was likely going to be two swords cutting him into quarters, but nothing came. When he finally built up the nerve to slowly raise his head, he saw two stunned knights staring at him. He couldn’t see their faces, but he imagined they looked a lot like Ida just had. Whatever they’d expected him to do, this hadn’t been it.

“Move!” came a commanding voice from just behind them. The two hulking knights scattered like startled birds before the diminutive but imposing woman who took their place in front of Aldric.

Empress Minerva Rhagia looked down on Aldric and Ida with undisguised fury. Aldric’s brain scrambled for something to say in his defense, to try to get her to cooperate with him, at least for now, but nothing came out of his mouth. Her overwhelming presence and clear hatred had Aldric scared stiff.

Even if he had no respect for nobility, he’d been conditioned all his life to have a healthy fear of this woman. Even in her exhausted state, she was throwing off enough waves of violent mana to make Aldric dizzy.

“You dare utter such a name before me?” she growled. “You would dare claim to be from a dead house and think I would fall for it?” That told Aldric all he needed to know. She’d recognized his family name and was understandably not a fan.

“I speak the truth, your majesty,” Aldric barely managed to say. “I am Aldric Dengarius, of House —”

Aldric should have just kept his mouth shut. The empress actually snarled as she whipped around and seized one of her knights’ swords, then brandished it in front of Aldric’s upturned face. Aldric just about pissed himself as he went cross-eyed, staring at the razor-sharp weapon. If this woman decided to finish him off, there wouldn’t be anything he or Ida could do about it with her knights right next to her.

“You would even go that far?” Empress Rhagia finally asked, somehow sounding even angrier. “You would take the name of a dead man and act so cavalier in my presence? I should throw you to my bodyguard and let her deal with you. She would tear your body inside out for such an insult to his name!”

That brought Aldric up short. His terror abruptly morphed into confusion as he took in her words. Dead? Had he been presumed dead? It made sense, now that he thought about it. He’d up and disappeared for five years while pretending to be someone else, never to be heard from again.

Which meant his friends had believed the same. Shit. Zasia was going to kill him for real if she saw him again.

“I don’t know how else to convince you, your majesty, but I am who I say I am. After my father... betrayed you, I was kept in your dungeons for a month before I was released. I also destroyed my family's manor before fleeing the city and joining the military under a fake name.”

The empress didn’t immediately chop Aldric’s head off, which he considered a good sign. His imprisonment and release, along with the destruction of his house, were likely common knowledge, but only amongst the nobility. A commoner likely would have only known wild rumors surrounding the incident.

“Your majesty, we don’t have time to deal with them,” the swordless knight to the empress’ side said. He removed his helmet to get a better look at Aldric, and his eyebrows turned down in disdain. “I will kill them and be done with it. You must focus on gathering mana for your next summoning —”

“Be silent, Waltin!” the empress commanded. The man shut his mouth immediately, but Aldric thought he had a point. There was a fight going on. Even now, the rhagians and Aldric’s own people were being slowly overwhelmed. The rest of the veronian cavalry would descend the cliffs at any moment. They didn’t have time to argue over who he was or why he was here.

Slowly enough that neither the empress nor her knights would startle and strike him down, Aldric gripped the point of the empress’ sword and carefully aimed it at his own neck. The urgency of their situation finally pushed away his earlier intimidation as he stared down one of the most politically and magically powerful people on the continent.

“Fine. Kill me,” Aldric answered simply. “But promise me you’ll save my people.”

“Boss!” Ida screamed in horror. Aldric ignored her.

“Whatever my father did to you, it has nothing to do with them. If you want to kill me and feel better, I’ll let you, but please do it after we save everyone. If you’re an empress, then act like one and do your duty first! Your corpse doesn’t help the empire!”

Everyone, Ida included, openly gawked at Aldric’s audacity. Aldric pretended to not be as surprised as them at his own words. His talk with Kedrin randomly popped into his head and made him amend his challenge.

“... though, I’d prefer to live,” he added lamely. “I have two ladies back home looking forward to seeing me again. I hope.”

Of all the shocked faces, the empress’ was the most fascinating. A flurry of emotions passed over her face in a handful of seconds; anger, frustration, confusion, shock, realization, and... relief?

“You really are him, aren’t you?” she muttered, almost too quiet to hear over the sounds of battle. “You’re just as brazen as she said you were. Gods, she’s going to lose it when she sees you.”

Before Aldric could ask what that was supposed to mean or who she was talking about, the empress handed her sword back to the knight and reached down to grab his shirt collar. The two knights visibly panicked as their charge came so close to a potential enemy, but the woman ignored them. With surprising strength, she helped Aldric and Ida back to their feet before staring Aldric in the eyes, her earlier anger completely gone.

“So, what do we do? You’re supposed to always have a plan for everything, right?”

Aldric could only blink at her, clueless as to what had just happened. She snapped her fingers in front of his face when he didn’t answer, and Aldric broke out of his bewildered trance. Questions could come later. If she would work with him, Aldric didn’t really care why. For now.

“First, we need our people to work together, which means your people need to stop attacking mine. Anyone not in a uniform is with us.”

The empress had already given instructions to a nearby soldier before Aldric had even finished his sentence, so he kept going. “Second, I need to know what forces you have. How many are with you?”

“Around sixty,” one of the two knights, apparently named Waltin, answered as his empress continued shouting orders. Aldric looked at the man in shock, but Waltin elaborated. “We started with around a hundred, but a lot of those were wounded to the point of being unable to fight. Our effective force started at around sixty. I have no way of knowing how many are still fighting now.”

Aldric scowled. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. Even with his own relief force of one hundred, assuming that many were still alive, the enemy’s three hundred seemed like an insurmountable wall.

“Any mages?” Aldric asked.

“Myself, Sir Peltin here, the empress, and the empress’ bodyguard. All conjurers. Her bodyguard was sent to deal with the enemy commander personally.”

That made sense. Taking out the commander would make things easier, assuming this bodyguard of the empress could.

“You think she can?” Aldric asked, dubious.

“If anyone can, it is her,” Sir Waltin answered immediately. Well, he sounded confident, at least.

“And why haven’t you summoned anything?” Aldric asked the empress, who’d just returned to their team huddle.

“Because I already exhausted myself in the battle earlier today,” she replied, looking stricken. “Small elemental summons won’t do us any good here. I might be able to do something bigger, briefly, but I need to cultivate more mana. That will take a good deal of time.”

Aldric’s face screwed up as he thought. If that was true, all they needed was to buy time, not win. They were already in an entrenched position with the enemy in chaos, so this was as good as things were going to get. Aldric had a few spells he could try, but nothing as helpful as the initial volley of fireballs. His new spell paper was cheaper to make, but not indefinite.

Aldric looked at the empress again. “You can take them all out if you get a big summon off in time?”

The empress looked less confident than Aldric would have preferred, but she nodded. “I believe so.”

Aldric had heard the rumors of the empress’ prophetic levels of summoning magic, but he’d never seen it. He’d have to take her word for it and hope the stories had at least some truth to them.

“Then we buy you time,” Aldric finally decided as he nodded to himself. He turned back to Waltin. “I have a method that might help the empress cultivate faster, but I’ll need you and the other knights to help —”

Aldric stopped talking when a spear tip sprouted in a crimson burst from Waltin’s eye socket and liberally coated Aldric’s face with dark red blood. The man dropped to the ground without a sound, immediately dead. With him no longer in the way, Aldric now had a perfect view of just what had killed him.

The second line of grizzik cavalry had arrived. The still burning trees made it hard to see up high, but there was a clear horde of reptilian creatures cresting the lip of the canyon with the setting sun at their backs. A full volley of javelins started falling, and the remaining knight next to the empress dove on top of her as a human shield. Aldric did the same to Ida, tackling her to the ground as the deadly rain descended on the rhagian rear line. With his face pressed against the muddy ground, Aldric could only hear the screams of dying men and women as they were skewered. Pain shot through Aldric’s back as one javelin connected and skittered off his right shoulder blade, tearing a jagged cut that quickly turned hot with fresh blood.

When the storm finally stopped, Aldric looked up to find that the knight on top of the empress was also now dead. He had at least had his helmet still on, but the surrounding area was coated in javelins, with several having found their mark in the gaps of his armor. The empress was still underneath him, desperately trying to free herself from under his bulk.

Then Aldric’s blood ran cold as he watched the grizzik cavalry begin climbing down the canyon walls like an angry flood.

~~~

IN THE CENTER OF THE battlefield, in a large circle of open space that had been carved out for them by her constant spell slinging, Miraea fired ball after ball of angry hot fire at the knight named Sir Balrus. She had hunted him down rather easily, as he was charging through rhagian soldiers towards the empress with a terrifying ease. She’d taken out his grizzik with a sneak attack, but he was no less dangerous on foot. His youthful face and overly polite manner had made her assume he wasn’t all that skilled at fighting. Miraea had been dreadfully wrong.

After somehow dodging every one of her fireballs, he was suddenly right in front of her as he brought his sword down like a hammer towards her head. Miraea had a better chance of blocking a charging horse than an enforcer, so she conjured up a gust of wind that ripped her out of the way at the last moment. The earth where she’d been standing erupted in a shower of muddy water and dirt, leaving behind a deep crater.

All it would take was for her to get hit once by an attack like that. She could not allow this man to make it past her, both for her own sake and for her charge. With the state she was in, the empress wouldn’t be able to put up a proper fight, and the knights Miraea had left to watch over her wouldn’t hold out for long against a mage this powerful.

“A dual elemental conjurer?” Sir Balrus asked casually. He wiped copious amounts of mud off his armor as he sized Miraea up again. “I should have known the empress’ bodyguard would be of exceptional talent. My apologies for not taking you more seriously. That will change now.”

Miraea winced inwardly. She had been hoping to keep that information up her sleeve for at least a little while. She’d learned years ago that her magic was unique and had figured out how to use all four elements. Her grasp of fire was far better than the other three, but her talent and mana pool made up for it.

Guilt tore at her heart again, no less painful for all the years that had passed. That was yet another thing Miraea could never thank Aldric for.

Miraea growled, a rare sound for her, as she shoved the dark thoughts out of her mind. She had a fight to end. This Sir Balrus was alarmingly fast and strong, even for an enforcer. Miraea had no hope of keeping up with him physically, but he could only do any damage to her if he got close enough to hit her. As long as she kept him at range, she had the advantage. And he didn’t yet know she had two more elements up her sleeve.

“Apologies, but I must make this quick,” Sir Balrus said, crouching low in a ready stance. Miraea wished he’d stop doing that. His politeness and chivalry were completely out of place in a fight to the death.

Never having been one for talking, Miraea gave no answer. Instead, she thrust her staff outward and wordlessly cast her spell. A line of flames burst forth from the staff, the enchanted weapon magnifying her already substantial magic ability and causing the beam to increase to a five-foot-wide column in mere seconds.

Sir Balrus didn’t hesitate. Winding his arms back, he shot them forward with a shout as his body glowed from heavy imbuing. A roaring shockwave blasted forth into the oncoming column of fire. The front end dissipated under the air pressure of the blast, while the rest was snuffed out from the muddy water and dead foliage that was sprayed in every direction. Even the inferno still blazing in the surrounding trees was heavily pushed back from the sudden change in air pressure. Miraea cut off her spell to fire another, but she’d lost track of Sir Balrus in the storm of mud. Then she watched as he dove through that storm of mud, headed directly for her.

Cornered, Miraea abandoned any planned subterfuge or holding back and cast another spell. “Durna volmus!”

Sir Balrus’ mad dash was abruptly interrupted by a geyser firing off directly beneath him. The knight was shot ten meters into the air from the force of the blast, tumbling end over end, but Miraea wasn’t done.

“Durna tera jorum!”

All the muddy water that had been displaced halted in midair, then rapidly converged on the helpless form of Sir Balrus. In seconds, a sphere of muddy water floated in the air that trapped the knight within.

“Durna kishir!”

All the water in the orb vacated at once, falling to the ground in a crash of waves and leaving a perfect sphere of earth, tightly compacted into a boulder.

“Tera prask!”

The sphere then crashed to the ground with the force of a meteor, practically burying Miraea under a wave of water, mud and deadwood. The impact blew back any unfortunate soul that had wandered too close to the dueling mages. All the surrounding trees were now free of flames, though the rest of the battlefield still burned on. When Miraea wiped all the fresh mud and debris from her helmet visor, she found a massive crater where the boulder had landed and shattered to bits.

She also found Sir Balrus. Alive. He was battered and dazed, his armor a dented and warped ruin, but he hardly even looked injured. Just who was this monster?

“A quadra...” Sir Balrus said, his words sounding a bit slurred. “That’ll teach me to make assumptions.” He visibly shook off his dizziness as he trudged out of the three-meter-deep hole he’d been hurled into, then located his sword that had been washed away and pointed it back at Miraea. He didn’t immediately attack her again, however.

“And a mana pool the size of an ocean to go with it, it seems. Normally, I’d run in terror from one such as you. My goal wasn’t to defeat you, however. Merely keep your attention.”

Miraea’s confusion only lasted a few moments. The sounds of thrown javelins whistling through the air caught her attention. Miraea whipped around to find the worst-case scenario playing out in front of her. More grizzik riders were descending the canyon wall from the rhagian rear, charging into the backs of rhagian soldiers that were still engaged with other veronians. They were also frighteningly close to where she knew her empress would be.

Miraea blinked when she realized just how much had changed since her fight with Sir Balrus had started. She’d noticed the inferno and assumed it was because of a fire conjurer running amuck, but maybe not. There was now a horde of fighters that wore mismatched clothing and carried poor quality weapons. They didn’t seem to sport any sort of insignia Miraea would’ve recognized. When had all this happened? Who was this third party? Another enemy ambush?

Miraea’s duty as a bodyguard reasserted itself, and her eyes immediately darted around the battlefield in search of her empress. She found her rather quickly, since the incoming grizzik riders had singled her out and were making a beeline for her. But another man beat them to her, a man Miraea didn’t recognize. He had the same bland clothing as the mysterious third party, and his face was so covered in blood and mud that she couldn’t make out his face from here.

Miraea made to dash off after them, but she found Sir Balrus in her way. His sword swipe flashed in front of her nose with such speed and power that the shockwave threw muddy water into Miraea’s face. Blind, panicking, and frustrated, Miraea impulsively sent a hurricane of wind right into the man’s face, putting as much mana as she could handle at once behind the spell. Sir Balrus stabbed his sword into the ground up to the hilt as he was slowly dragged backwards, his helmet flying off and revealing his face scrunched up in effort. With a thought, Miraea changed the hurricane into a storm of wind blades. The waves of razor thin mana ripped into the ground, the trees, and anything else nearby like the claws of a massive and furious animal.

Despite that, Sir Balrus held on. In fact, he was slowly making his way toward Miraea one stubborn inch at a time, his arm up to protect his face and using his sword like a makeshift climber’s pick. Patience thoroughly gone, Miraea dropped the hurricane of blades and cried out one more spell.

“Durna jorum raga!”

Whips of water emerged from the ground beneath Sir Balrus and wrapped tightly around him like some kind of demonic octopus. One tentacle wrapped around his mouth and nose, cutting off his ability to breathe. The knight impulsively grasped at the tentacles, but his hands merely slipped through the water without purchase. Miraea doubted it would hold him long, but a lack of oxygen gave him something else to think about for a little while.

Conjuring a wind beneath her feet, she dashed off towards her empress and the stranger that was hauling her behind him. She ran down more veronian soldiers as she went, sending them flying or burying them under the waves of muddy water her spell was making. In less than a minute, she was upon them.

The man saw her coming long before she arrived, and he hurriedly dragged the empress in the opposite direction. That was all the proof Miraea needed that he wasn’t an ally.

“Durna tera jorum!”

The man lost his grip on the empress as a dome of mud surrounded her and hardened into stone, shielding her from anything outside. Sir Balrus could likely blast through such a barrier easily, but Miraea didn’t have time for anything more complicated. The man looked at her with shock before he started shouting at her.

“Wait, so you’re —” Miraea could barely hear him over the sounds of fighting nearby and only caught part of his words. “Hey! We’re on the same —!”

That was all he had time to say before Miraea crashed into the man, sending both tumbling across the ground. Miraea had been so focused on catching up with them, she hadn’t factored in how to stop herself. It turned out that a nearby clump of dead trees and bushes did the job for her, though rather painfully. The trunk she crashed into split in half as she went through it, crumpling her armor and making her helmet fly off. After a few moments spent struggling to her feet again, Miraea wiped mud and her own long white hair out of her eyes as she looked for the empress’ kidnapper.

“Boss!”

If the woman hadn’t called out first and gotten Miraea’s attention, Miraea would have died. As it was, she had barely a millisecond to jerk her head out of the way of a speeding arrow that had come out of nowhere. A woman that Miraea somehow hadn’t noticed had a bow pointed at her, another arrow already knocked. Now that she was ready for it, however, Miraea had nothing to fear from projectiles. The second arrow that was sent her way simply drifted off target as Miraea called up a sphere of wind around herself. The woman’s next two arrows did the same thing, but she kept firing desperately.

Ignoring the woman that could no longer harm her, Miraea looked for the man again. She found him not far away, looking worse off than she did as he groaned while face up on the ground. She saw he had a dagger in his hand and decided he was the more immediate threat.

Trying to conserve what little mana she had left for the enemy commander, Miraea quickly dashed over to him and kicked the dagger out of his grip before planting her knee on his chest. All the while, the woman with the bow kept firing useless arrows and cursing vehemently.

Miraea drew her belt knife and drove it down towards the man’s face. He surprised her by quickly batting her weapon aside, causing it to bury itself in the muddy ground mere inches from his head, then wrapped his arm around hers and pulled her in for a sharp headbutt. Miraea’s vision burst into black dots as the man got his feet against her chest and shoved on her hard. Miraea was too dizzy to balance and toppled gracelessly onto her back.

“Gods, that hurt. Nobody wins with a headbutt,” the man groaned as he quickly clambered back to his feet. “Ida, stop shooting at her! She doesn’t know that we’re on her... her... what?”

Miraea had used wind magic to pop herself back up onto her feet, but the man had stopped mid-sentence and was simply staring at her in open-mouthed disbelief. Miraea had lost her staff and her knife, but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she took the opening and thew a fireball at his face. His eyes went wide as he bent over backwards, barely dodging the attack as he fell on his butt. The woman apparently named Ida charged Miraea, but she simply waved a lazy hand and sent the unknown archer sprawling across the muddy ground with another gust of wind.

Miraea leapt onto the man again, straddling his chest and making sure to pin his arms this time. Lacking any more weapons and still trying to conserve her mana, Miraea spoke a simple spell. “Durna jorum!”

The water from the muddy ground separated from the earth and wound around the man’s face, forming a globe of quickly swirling water around his entire head. He flailed about in a panic, but there was nothing a mundane commoner could do about the spell with just their hands.

Miraea stood back up, panting heavily from exertion as she waited for the man to drown. She would only have a few more moments before Sir Balrus caught up with her. She needed to get the empress somewhere safer before returning and dealing with the grizzik riders. How she was going to do that was beyond her, but she couldn’t just leave her fellow soldiers behind to make her own escape, even if they had all formed a defensive line against the incoming cavalry to do just that. They weren’t all going to sacrifice themselves if she could do anything about it.

The man at her feet began reaching into his clothes, likely for another weapon to stab Miraea with. She simply ignored him and stepped out of range, content to let him die slowly and painfully for attacking her empress. She would need to find that archer and finish her as well. Her contempt for the man drowning before her morphed into surprise when she saw him pull out a seemingly innocuous piece of paper. What was he planning to do with that?

Miraea’s eyes widened in shock and fear when the paper began glowing with the telltale signs of mana imbuing. The man shoved the spell paper into the swirling mass of water covering his head as Miraea dashed backwards out of range of whatever spell was going to go off. Then the orb of water around the man’s head exploded outward in a burst of wind. He took in a gasping breath just before he rolled over and stared hacking up water onto the ground, his back to Miraea.

Gods above, this man was a mage? Deciding she couldn’t afford to fail at killing him a third time, Miraea began gathering mana for one of her stronger fire spells. It seemed wasteful to her, but she couldn’t risk him having more tricks up his sleeve.

“Igni volmu —!”

“MIRI!” the man gasped out desperately between coughs.

Miraea’s spell died on her lips as her body locked up. She didn’t understand why until she fully digested what he’d just said. He had no way of knowing who she was. And only Zasia called her Miri anymore.

The man got his coughing fit under control as he looked back up at her. He was still on his hands and knees and looked exhausted, but he smiled a familiar smile as he spoke.

“Damn it *cough*, you never really were much of a talker, were you?” he asked, still grinning. “And I see you figured out some more elements, you monster. Not that I’m taking credit or anything, but that wouldn’t happen to be because of my advice, would it? I was rather proud of figuring that out.”

It was him. It had to be. His muddy and blood-caked face had hidden the resemblance, but her spell had washed it clean. The beard and longer hair briefly threw her off, but it was him. Either that, or Miraea had already died and gone to the afterlife.

“... Aldric?” Miraea choked out. She staggered slowly towards him, afraid to move too fast and break whatever wonderful illusion she was seeing. When she was in front of him, she delicately traced his face with her fingers, trying to convince herself that yes, he really was here. He really was alive.

“What, the beard?” Aldric asked in confusion as Miraea cupped both sides of his face and stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, I know, it’s weird. Sorry, I haven’t had a proper razor in years. It’s, uh... complicated. Hell of a story, though. Should probably save that for later, I guess.”

Miraea wanted to say something, anything. There was a lot she should have said. She wanted to tell how much she missed him. To beg his forgiveness for not being there for him. To scream at him for making her think he was dead. To weep with joy as the knot of guilt and regret she’d carried with her for half a decade finally unraveled.

“Um... sorry, but can you say something? I’m nervous, and I babble when I get nervous. I’m going to say something stupid and embarrass us both if you don’t stop staring at me with those gorgeous eyes of yours.... ah, damn it! See? Look what you made me do!” A wide, blissful smile finally broke out on Miraea’s face as she laughed delightedly. Aldric returned it.

The voice from behind Miraea shattered the moment.

“Goodness, you’re a slippery one,” Sir Balrus called out. She spun to find him already approaching them, clearly ready to fight despite everything she’d thrown at him. Shaken from her daze, she could once again hear the remaining rhagian forces doing their best to hold off the horde of grizzik riders that had flanked them. They were wasting time here.

“I see your new friend followed you home,” Aldric said flatly. Despite the joke, his earlier lighthearted tone was gone.

“My offer to surrender still stands, you know,” Sir Balrus added, a pleading look on his face. “And that was before there were two of you for me to deal with. I hope you realize that dome of rock won’t stop me. We can end all this right now. No one else needs to die. Just let me take the empress into my care.”

Miraea didn’t answer, instead stepping protectively in front of Aldric. This was bad. She couldn’t afford to protect both the empress and Aldric at the same time. As overjoyed as she was, the fear that she could lose him again after having just found him tore at her insides.

“You deal with him,” Aldric whispered from behind her. “I’ve got a plan... well, sort of, but I can’t do it if he’s around. I need you to buy me time.” He suddenly spoke up, clearly talking past her. “Ida, stop sneaking up on him. He’s not your opponent. Go help Talus and Bredig find Daelus. We’ll need everyone backing up those rhagians and holding the grizziks back.”

The woman that Miraea had tossed was already back, her bow aimed at the knight’s back. “Boss, I’m not leaving you to —”

“Ida, you know I love you, but do as I say. Right. Now. You can’t help here.”

Miraea’s thoughts briefly tripped over each other when she heard Aldric say he “loved” this woman, but she quickly dismissed the strange irritation that had sparked within her. The archer looked furious, but she didn’t argue as she turned and sprinted for the other side of the battlefield.

Miraea didn’t like the idea of leaving Aldric alone to do whatever it was he was going to do while she dealt with Sir Balrus. It must have shown on her face, because Aldric spoke to her again, more firmly this time.

“Do it, Miri. I’ll be fine. Trust me. A lot’s changed since we last saw each other. I can handle myself.”

Miraea couldn’t imagine what he’d been up to all this time, but she trusted him. She knew Aldric’s ideas were always the best.

“So, surrender, or...?” Sir Balrus prompted again. Miraea didn’t answer, instead walking over to her staff and hoisting it up to face tip-first at the knight, her mind buzzing with a long list of spell formations ready to fire. Aldric had two daggers out, looking far deadlier than Miraea had ever seen him before. The boy that had struggled to fight off bullies all those years ago was long gone, it seemed.

“Right,” Sir Balrus sighed, taking in their obvious defiance. He took a ready stance of his own. “I thought not.”

Chapter 12

ALDRIC THANKED THE gods above that Miraea had the same idea as him; to separate Aldric and Sir Balrus as quickly as possible. She immediately cast the same wind spell she had used to blast herself across the battlefield earlier, this time catching up with the enemy knight in her path and dragging him away. Aldric had zero interest in joining that fray, so he instead made for the empress’ new makeshift hideout. Aldric inspected the outside and determined that it would do for what he had in mind. He would need the empress’ cooperation to do it, though. Unsure of what to do, he simply kicked the rocky shelter, causing it to ring with a deep, hollow noise.

“AH! Stop that!” the empress’ voice called out, muffled by the rock. “Who is that? Miraea? Let me out this instant! Aldric is here to —!”

“Yeah, we’re past that already,” Aldric interrupted impatiently. “And no, I’m not letting you out. This actually works perfectly for what I want to try.” Realizing he would need all the power he could muster for what he had planned, Aldric took out a dagger and drew it across his palm. This was going to take a lot of blood. Possibly more than Aldric had to give. But he had to make it work.

“I will not be squirrelled away into a hole while my people are fighting and dying!” the empress yelled again. Aldric could feel her fists pounding on the inside of the barrier as he began tracing out runes. “Release me, now!”

“You’re no good to them as you are,” Aldric yelled as he continued his bloody work. “Just let your bodyguard do her job and follow my instructions. You’ll be able to help in a few minutes if I get this right.”

“Just what are you doing out there?” the empress asked. She hadn’t stopped pounding on her rock shelter. “I am your empress! You will get me out of here immediately! I will not —!”

“Listen, granny!” Aldric shouted. He knew he shouldn’t lose his cool in front of the most powerful woman in the empire, but his patience was quickly evaporating. More and more of his people died the longer that he was away from them, and Miraea was fighting for her life against a dangerous opponent. He didn't have time to be polite about this. “Just shut up and listen! The quicker you do as I say, the quicker you get out of there!”

The pounding and yelling abruptly stopped, probably because the empress was stunned he would speak to her in such a way, but Aldric didn’t care. “I’m a sorcerer, and I’m creating a rune diagram on your shelter. I’m going to use it to draw in latent mana for you.”

“That won’t —!”

“I know it’s inefficient! And I thought I told you to just listen?” When no answer came from the shelter, Aldric continued. “Don’t ask how that works. We don’t have time. When I tell you, you’re going to cultivate as much mana as you can hold without exploding. Then you’re going to summon the strongest avatar you can and save all our asses.”

Aldric didn’t know if this would work that simply. Mana wasn’t something easily caged, and Aldric barely had any mana himself to make it happen. That was saying nothing of how he was planning on repurposing a failed experiment he’d tried a year ago with Kedrin’s help.

As much as it annoyed him, the empress had been about to bring up a good point. Enchanted rune formations used to help with the cultivating of small amounts of raw mana weren’t a new idea, but they were slow and ineffective, taking place over hours. Aldric needed to condense that into minutes, or preferably less, while sucking up every scrap of mana nearby. That was a tall order for a pitiful mana pool like Aldric’s.

And of course, during all of this, there was a losing battle to hold back the veronian cavalry on one side of them and the explosive duel of two master mages on the other. Trying to concentrate on such a complex spell through all of that was going to suck.

There hadn’t been a response from the empress, so maybe she’d finally listened to him. Either that, or she’d fainted from his lack of respect. Either way, she wasn’t his problem right now. He began tracing out the runes necessary for the spell, coating the rock dome in liberal amounts of his blood. It was probably one of the most complex rune workings Aldric had ever made, far more complex than the one he would need to make for himself. Filling up the empress’ mana pool with the normal version of this spell would be like filling the ocean one cup at a time.

Partway through his efforts, he realized he was going to need more blood, so he took his dagger again and tore it across his wrist instead. The more he worked on the rune formation, the more difficult it became to trace the runes accurately. Aldric hadn’t factored in just how drained and dizzy he would feel from the blood loss. The last-minute healing scroll Kedrin had repaired would fix him easily, but he didn't want to use it so early.

Aldric struggled to control the hand tracing out runes as his body began to tremble. The bright red blood stood out starkly on his ghostly pale hands, and his heart began beating hard and fast to desperately feed his body’s starving organs. Just as Aldric determined he’d lost nearly a third of the blood in his body, his addled and slow-moving mind belatedly realized that he’d just finished the last rune.

After fumbling with some spare bandages, Aldric clambered to the top of the dome to sit in the two-foot-wide circle he’d left there specifically for himself. He stumbled through bandaging his wrist and hand, pulling them painfully tight just to be sure, then sat there for several moments as he tried to get his brain to remind him what he was supposed to be doing. Right, he needed to cycle mana. To do... something. What was it again? And why was the world spinning? Had the sky always been that color purple?

“Are you done yet? I’ve yet to feel anything,” an older woman’s voice came from beneath him. Aldric stared dumbly at the talking rock he was sitting on. Then he remembered just where he was and what was happening.

“Shut up,” Aldric muttered, likely quieter than the empress could hear. “Gotta... gotta focus...”

Fighting a losing battle against his drooping eyelids, Aldric centered himself and tapped into his mana pool. It was painfully small, and a bit depleted, but he’d already come up with a way to overcome that obstacle. Too bad it was going to hurt like hell. It would keep him awake, at least.

“Get ready!” Aldric called out, partially to the empress and partially to himself. Then, without giving himself time to back out of this insane plan, Aldric slapped his uninjured hand to the rock and imbued the first spell.

Aldric felt like someone had just shot lightning down his spine. His mana pool suddenly bottomed out and went bone dry to fuel his enchantment moments before it was abruptly filled to bursting. The latent mana in the air did a sudden nosedive towards Aldric, like he’d just pulled a plug holding back the ocean and had stupidly sat himself in the drain. Aldric recognized the sensation from his failed experiment a year ago. He was no more ready for it now.

Aldric felt himself scream rather than heard it. His ears were already filled with a rushing noise as his whole body lit up in agony. Aldric clamped his jaw shut to stop himself from biting off his tongue during his body’s involuntary spasms, then wrestled every still conscious part of his mind towards his task.

The normal version of this enchantment merely siphoned off portions of latent mana at very slow intervals. Aldric’s new, and frankly ridiculous, version forcefully manhandled every ounce it could get its metaphysical hands on into one point. That point, currently, was Aldric’s overwhelmed mana pool.

This was horribly impractical for someone with a pool as small as Aldric’s. It was at risk of bursting under the massive amounts of mana the spell was stuffing into it, and yet that same spell was burning through all of it at almost the same rate. Aldric felt like a rag being repeatedly dunked in water and wrung out, only to get dunked again.

So Aldric prepared for the last step, slowly and painfully moving his other hand under his shirt and over his stomach. The tattoo he’d inscribed there in own blood was thankfully still active. A rune diagram he’d tattooed there in his own blood a year ago activated after only a moment, fueled by the torrent of mana rushing through Aldric’s system. He only activated one part of many on his body, but ironically, what had made his experiment fail was the same thing that would make this plan succeed. Hopefully.

The enchantment on his stomach flared to life and did the opposite of the first, forcefully venting every bit of mana it could from Aldric’s mana pool and down into the rock dome he was still perched on. The other rune array he’d inscribed into the dome also glowed and came to life the moment the flood of mana hit it, trapping the mana as it tried to escape into the air again. Aldric had essentially turned himself into a human mana funnel, filtering raw mana from the world directly into a condensed environment for the empress to guzzle up.

It was a hell of a struggle to keep so many magical functions working at the same time. He needed to maintain the spell sucking mana into himself, the spell on his body that forced it out, and the spell that trapped it in the dome simultaneously. This was likely the single most complicated magical working Aldric had ever done, and the only reason he could do it at all was because his mana pool had a constant flow of fuel to work with.

This would’ve been hard enough if he’d been healthy, but his exhausted and blood-starved body was barely holding together under the strain. Aldric’s mana pool felt bloated and starving at the same time. Anytime he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, the spells would become unstable and send white-hot pain ripping through his body.

Blessedly, Aldric could feel the mana he was ejecting being soaked up by something beneath him, likely the empress. She was taking in large heaps of it at a time, much faster than a mage of Aldric’s ability and talent would have been able to. It wasn’t happening fast enough, however. Aldric was pumping mana in faster than the empress could absorb it all. He did his best to throttle the flow he was sending to her, but he might as well have tried to damn a rushing river with just his hands. It would be up to the empress herself whether she squandered the chance Aldric had given her. For now, he would just have to endure the storm and trust Miraea to keep them safe.

~~~

MIRAEA CONJURED A WALL of earth in front of her, but Sir Balrus simply burst through it like it wasn’t even there. He’d long ago abandoned any mercy and stopped holding back, determined to get within reach of her to do actual damage. It was all Miraea could do to tie up his legs in the mud with another spell and glide to safety on a gust of wind. Even before she’d landed, however, Sir Balrus had blasted away his bonds before dashing off after her again.

This had been their routine for a while now; Miraea dashed about the battlefield while Sir Balrus tried to pin her down. Miraea was holding up for now, but if she hadn’t possessed her staff, she would already have run out of mana. She’d also taken a few good hits that the knight had sneaked in. Her left arm refused to move the way she wanted it to, a gash to her head was turning her snow-white hair slowly red, and the fist-sized cavity the knight had punched into the side of her breastplate was making it hard to breathe. Sir Balrus sported several burns and cuts, his once glorious armor now a ruin, but he just kept coming, no matter what Miraea threw at him.

Miraea could clearly feel something odd happening where Aldric and the empress were on their side of the battlefield, but she didn’t know what it was. The latent mana in the air was spiraling out of control, centered on Aldric, in a way that she had never seen before. Part of Miraea feared that something had gone wrong with whatever Aldric was trying to do, but the rest of her shook off her doubts. Trusting Aldric had never failed her before. Whatever he was doing, she would just need to believe it would save them all.

Unfortunately, Sir Balrus seemed to have noticed as well. He was getting more and more desperate to get past her as his attacks became increasingly hard to dodge or block. Realizing that she was running on the last of her mana, Miraea borrowed fire from the surrounding foliage that was still blazing around them.

“Igni tibra!”

A hail of fireballs suddenly sprouted from the burning trees, converging like flaming arrows on Sir Balrus. The man was forced to change his full-frontal charge into a complicated zig-zag pattern, dodging what he could and taking those he couldn’t on his armor. Miraea took direct control of the fireballs, causing them to swarm around the knight like angry hornets and preventing him from making it any closer to her. She had a flash of hope that maybe she could keep him there long enough for Aldric to finish, but it wasn’t to be.

With a ferocious roar, Sir Balrus whipped his sword around himself in a circle with enough force to rip a shockwave through the air and set Miraea’s ears ringing. The swarm of fireballs either snuffed out immediately or scattered every which way from the force of his single swing, as well as another shower of muddy water and broken foliage. Miraea wasn’t about to give him time to breathe, however.

“Tera jorum prask!”

A massive boulder of rock and mud erupted from the ground and hurtled towards Sir Balrus. Even if it didn’t kill him, she could at least bury him under the sheer weight of it. The boulder crashed into the knight and sent debris flying in all directions, but then it simply stopped. It just hung there, suspended in the air. Miraea was dumbfounded until she realized what had happened. The knight had caught the damn thing, hoisting it above his head like an oversized toy ball. Then, with an even louder second roar, Sir Balrus hurled the massive rock straight at Miraea.

Miraea was so surprised that the only thing she had time to do was raise a meager wind barrier to protect herself. The barrier shattered like glass, barely slowing down the boulder as it slammed into Miraea.

The next few moments were a confusing jumble of pain and odd perspectives as Miraea lost track of up and down. When her flailing body finally came to rest, she was face down in the muddy water. She quickly pulled her head out of the depths and coughed up the disgusting water, but when she went to rise, her left leg blossomed into agony. Looking back, she saw that her own boulder had bent her leg at the wrong angle, rendering it useless. Miraea shoved the pain aside and concentrated on her next spell to defend herself.

Sir Balrus was no longer paying her any attention, however. Instead, he was sprinting for Aldric and the empress.

Terror gripping her heart, Miraea tried to force her body to respond to her commands, even trying to use a wind spell to float her after the knight, but there was no way she could catch up to him in time. Worse, nearby veronian soldiers that had finished up their own fighting seemed to notice her struggle and were moving in on her. Miraea heaved on her mana pool, demanding it assist her, but she only had dregs of mana left. Those last few attacks had taken almost everything she had left.

Miraea watched in horror as Sir Balrus made rapid time across the battlefield. Aldric was sitting on top of the empress’ rock dome, his eyes closed in fierce concentration and unaware of the danger rushing towards him. Even if Sir Balrus really did only take the empress hostage and not kill her, he had no reason to extend that mercy to Aldric.

Aldric was going to die. Again. But this time, it would be right in front of her. Despite all the years she’d practiced, despite all her efforts to take what Aldric had taught her to heart and carve out her own path in life, it would all be for nothing. Miraea was still that ignorant little girl who’d only ever seen the outside world from within her gilded cage, cursed to live the way others dictated.

NO.

Miraea’s fear and dread were abruptly replaced with absolute, all-consuming rage. She’d never felt this angry in her entire life. She wouldn’t lose him twice. Not to anyone, or for any reason. She was a Meltisse, damn it. Magic ran deep in her blood. If she had no spells she could use to save Aldric, that was only because she hadn’t thought hard enough yet. Aldric never gave up, so Miraea wouldn’t either.

Miraea jerked on her mana pool like the leash of a rebellious dog, forcing it to obey her. A shockwave of mana ripped forth, a force of pure energy that pushed all the veronians surrounding her several feet back. It didn’t hurt them at all, though, and they were already getting to their feet again.

Her mind spun with what she had to do. She had to move, to get where Aldric was before the knight did. Wind wouldn’t be enough, and her other three elements weren’t suited for mobility.

Her light magic came to mind. It was faster than anything else, but if she tried to blind or burn the knight from this range, she risked him dodging it or accidentally hitting Aldric. She needed a compromise. Something with the speed of light but burning nothing.

Miraea thought back to all those years ago, when she, Aldric and Zasia had been experimenting with her magic. Aldric had said her light magic was just her manipulating mana directly, and he’d tried to get her to use the opposite of fire, something with no heat or energy. What would that be? What could she harness?

With no real coherent spell or rune formation in her mind, Miraea simply injected her will into her mana, commanding it to do as she asked. Her first attempt failed almost immediately. Conjurers needed a clear mental picture of the runes they were using for their spell, so Miraea’s thoughts alone did little. That didn’t make sense, though. Aldric had always said that mana operated on intent. She just needed to make her intent more clear, more focused.

Her second attempt wasn’t any better. The mana welled up in her mana pool, only to go dormant again when it didn’t comprehend what she wanted from it. Miraea gnashed her teeth in frustration. Sir Balrus was nearly upon Aldric and the empress. She was out of time.

With a herculean effort, Miraea gripped all the mana she had at her disposal and ripped it from her pool. Intent didn’t need to be complicated, so she filtered it down to the simplest command she could. She didn’t need to stop Sir Balrus or attack him. She just needed to MOVE.

And, at last, her mana finally responded.

~~~

ALDRIC HEARD THE KNIGHT before he saw him. The pounding footfalls of a powerful enforcer sprinting all out towards him were hard to miss, after all. Not that Aldric could do anything about it. He couldn’t move from his spot on the rock dome, and dropping his concentration now would have drastic consequences on his body. He’d need several moments to disconnect himself from the formation he’d essentially fused with, moments that he didn’t have.

Aldric tried not to think about where Miraea might have been or what had happened to her for this knight to be coming after them instead. He cracked open his eyes and slowly cycled his mana to prepare for breaking free of the spell and diving out of the way, but it was pointless. The knight was already upon him.

Then Miraea appeared.

She didn’t run towards them, or fly in on magic, or anything obvious like that. She simply... appeared. It was as if she had always been there, materializing directly behind the still sprinting knight. Wisps of black smoke hung on her body from some sort of spell, but she looked just as surprised as Aldric that she was there. Then she wrapped her arms around the knight’s body and hauled him to the side, like she was trying to steer a runaway horse. With the knight caught completely unawares, it was surprisingly effective.

Miraea and the knight weaved to the side, missing the rock dome by mere inches, before crashing into the mud. They skidded and tumbled for several meters before coming to a stop, with the knight unfortunately on top. Miraea tried to stop him, but he was far stronger than her and easily broke free. Having lost his sword in the tumble, he punched her in the gut to make sure she stayed down, then sprinted back to Aldric and the rock dome.

One more time, Miraea saved Aldric’s life. A wall of air materialized between the knight and the rock dome. The knight only realized this when he slammed face first into it, bouncing off and winding up on his butt. The wall shattered and disintegrated from the force of the charge, and Miraea collapsed weakly onto her hands and knees after having spent what was likely the last of her mana.

Clearly dazed, the knight shakily got to his feet before stumbling forward again. He didn’t get the chance to charge Aldric a third time, however. Miraea had bought him just enough time to separate himself from his spells.

“Keep it up, granny!” Aldric yelled to the empress. He slammed close the connection between his mana pool and the empress’ dome, grunted in pain when his mana pool quickly filled like a balloon, then closed the spell absorbing latent mana. The he drew his dagger and leapt atop the knight like a madman.

He didn’t really have a plan, and his earlier blood loss made his movements sluggish. He just knew that their lives all depended on this knight being kept busy for as long as possible. If that wasn’t enough for the empress to finish cultivating the mana she needed, then no one was going to save them.

Surprise allowed Aldric to bring the enforcer to the ground, but the shock of his ambush wore off quickly. The knight immediately flipped Aldric onto his back and mounted him, driving a metal fist towards Aldric’s head with enough speed and force to cause the air to crack from the sudden compression. Aldric only just barely tilted his head out of the way, and it only worked because he’d been expecting it. The knight’s fist slammed home into the earth, blasting the side of Aldric’s face with liberal amounts of mud. Aldric blindly lashed out at where he thought the knight’s face would be, but his hand collided with something solid and unyielding. He thought he might have hit the man’s armor, but quickly realized that he had hit the man in the face. Aldric might as well have punched a brick wall for all the good it did

Aldric had no time to react a second time as the knight angrily grabbed Aldric by his face and hurled him like a bag of garbage. Aldric cried out as his neck popped from the sudden jerking motion, then landed gracelessly to the ground near Miraea like a landed fish. When Aldric went to stand back up, he was alarmed to realize that his legs weren’t responding. The knight had likely just broken something in Aldric’s neck.

From his position, Aldric could see the battle nearby that was about to end. The grizzik riders that had descended the canyon walls were finishing up the last of the rhagian forces. They’d put up a valiant effort and had taken several of the enemy with them, but they’d lost too many to keep holding them back from the empress. They were now being surrounded and methodically hacked down one by one. Their fellows and the penal squad were probably still stuck dealing with the remaining soldiers trapped by the wall of fire from earlier, assuming they hadn’t already been wiped out as well.

This battle was over, and Aldric and Miraea would be the next ones cut down.

Miraea struggled to her hands and one knee as she crawled over to Aldric, but there wasn’t much else she could do. No doubt she’d exhausted her mana pool and was suffering the consequences of mana withdrawal. If she tried any more spells, she’d likely only succeed in killing herself.

“Enough!” Aldric heard the knight gasp out. Aldric couldn’t turn his head to look at the man, but he sounded exhausted. Even if they hadn’t beaten him, they’d made him work for it.

“This petty resistance was foolish, empress,” the knight continued, sounding like he was slowly trudging over to the rock dome. “All of this could have been avoided if you had simply surrendered yourself. None of this was necessary!” His voice seemed genuinely aggrieved to Aldric, like he had wanted none of this. “And now hundreds from both sides lie dead. I hope their lives were worth your pride.”

The sounds of rock being torn away signaled that the empress’ makeshift shelter had posed no sort of challenge to the enforcer. Miraea held up a hand and pointed it where the knight should be standing, but nothing happened. Whatever spell she’d tried to cast had failed. Aldric’s body refused to move any further. His people had likely all been killed during his insane plan, or soon would be, and now he was going to die.

Aldric felt unconsciousness trying to creep up on him, a combination of exhaustion and pain trying to get him to pass out. What was even the point? He was dead already, having gambled everything he had and losing it all. He should have expected this, honestly. It had been a poor bet to begin with. His people were gone. The rhagians were defeated. The empress was going to die next. His only regret was that Miraea was going to die right after he’d gotten to see her again.

This was what fighting had gotten him. This was what all that effort had been for. Years of putting himself through hell to try to earn a reputation and clear his good name had only amounted to his own death. And Miraea’s. And his squad’s.

The more Aldric pushed, the harder the world pushed back. What was even the point anymore? Aldric could just... just let it all go already. Gods, how he wanted to just give up. He could just stop here and... and just rest... finally rest...

An odd weight had settled onto Aldric after a few moments. He’d hoped it was the sweet embrace of death, but when his eyes fluttered back open, he saw it was Miraea. She had finally managed to crawl to him, clutching his limp head and shoulders and cradling them protectively against her body. Her hand was still outstretched towards the knight as she muttered the beginnings of a spell under her breath. The mana she was calling upon stuttered and faltered under her exhaustion, but she was still pulling on it. Aldric couldn’t fathom what it was she was going to do, but she clearly intended to go down fighting.

Even with death all around them, even as the knight continued to tear away at the empress’ shelter and the rhagians fought desperately for their sovereign, Aldric was lost in looking at Miraea’s face. Even bloodstained, muddy, and beaten to hell, she looked so gods damn beautiful in that moment. It had nothing to do with her natural beauty. It was her aura. She reminded Aldric of a war goddess, unyielding and ever fighting.

Aldric was jealous. He wished he could look death in the eyes like that without flinching. Why wasn’t he more like that? His last conversation with Kedrin bounced around in his exhausted brain. Kedrin had said he was proud of how much Aldric had fought. He’d even called him a good man. What would he say to him now that Aldric was about to die, about to give it all up?

All evil needs to succeed is for good men to do nothing.

That stupid quote of Zasia’s popped up in his head. Why would anyone call him a good man? Would a good man lead his people to die? He owed the empress and her own people nothing. These were the same people that had looked at Aldric like he was filth, less than dirt and beneath their notice. Why should he die for them? Just so that others would tell him he was a good person? That he was worth something to someone?

You look your best when you’re struggling, Aldric.

Maybe that was it. Maybe becoming a good person was just another struggle Aldric would have to endure. But... but he’d struggled so much already. He would have to suffer all over again, for who knew how long this time. His father’s permanent frown, Nora’s detached and uncaring stare, and Caffaret’s sneering face all floated through Aldric’s mind. Did he really want to fight all of that? Could he commit to having his heart torn open and his will ground down all over again? Was it even worth it?

Aldric’s bleary thoughts were blown away by a roar of defiance that rose from somewhere Aldric couldn’t turn his head. It was the sound of men and women that had nothing to lose and had decided to die fighting to the last.

“Forward!” Aldric heard Daelus’ voice cry out. “Protect the Boss!”

The remaining members of the penal squad all echoed his shout as they charged into Aldric’s view. They were battered, tired, and wounded, but they still slammed into the grizzik riders like a tidal wave of fury, hitting and stabbing at whatever opening they could find. Aldric also saw rhagian soldiers among the fray, fighting just as desperately. It seemed Daelus had finally gotten their people to all cooperate.

“Boss!” Talus called out as he broke away from the swarm and ran up to Aldric. Ida was right behind him, sending arrows towards the knight and keeping him away from the empress. It wasn’t really doing much, but it kept him busy for a few moments longer. Talus joined her efforts, using a bow that he must have taken from an enemy’s corpse. The knight weaved between arrow shots as he moved towards them, looking extremely annoyed. These two wouldn’t last more than a second against him.

Aldric stared numbly at the two people firing arrow after desperate arrow. Then he stared back at the penal squad, all fighting for his sake. Here were his own people, endeavoring to the last despite all the odds. And Aldric had been just about to give it all up. They fought on while he surrendered to the hurt and fear.

Damn it. Gods damn it!

“You idiots are really going to make me do this,” Aldric groaned as he began circulating his mana again. It looked like his choice had been made for him. He looked up at Miraea and grunted, “Inner right pocket, get it for me.”

Miraea thankfully did as he asked without asking questions, dropping the roll of paper onto Aldric’s chest when he told her to. The healing scroll flared up with light as Aldric activated it. He felt nauseous as several loud popping noises came from his neck, jerking his head back and forth as the spell attempted to reseat his spine. A pins and needles sensation flooded his legs briefly before normal feeling came back to them.

“Aldric? What are you doing?” Miraea asked, sounding scared as she watched him gracelessly climb back to his feet. He’d briefly considered giving the scroll to her, but it wouldn’t restore her depleted mana pool. And Aldric, thanks to his sloppy decoupling from his spells, just so happened to be chock-full of the stuff at the moment.

Aldric hobbled over to stand protectively in front of Miraea before turning back to her, a grim slash of a smile on his face.

“What I do best. I’m struggling.”

A wave of force kicked up debris in a wide circle around Aldric as he activated all of his old tattoos. He didn’t activate its venting function this time, however.

Aldric could feel the rampaging raw mana that had been forcefully stuffed into his pool being controlled by the enchantment. It rushed through his limbs, leaking out of his pores and mouth. The mana had nowhere to go, so it started trying to tear a hole through Aldric’s body to escape. His heart started beating erratically as it tried to cope with the sudden stress, his muscles shaking uncontrollably from their newfound power.

The last time Aldric had tried this, the only reason he’d survived was because of the emergency venting function. Aldric couldn’t just hold on to this much mana. He needed to burn it all off before it ruptured his mana pool and tore his body to shreds. Good thing he had a punching bag in mind to do just that.

“All of you, go help Daelus!” Aldric ordered, just before the earth beneath him exploded from the force of his sudden leap.

The knight had no time to react as Aldric hurtled towards him with astonishing speed. Aldric didn’t so much attack the knight as much as he smashed into him like a boulder from a catapult. Aldric felt his body crunch under the impact, as well as the muscles in his legs screaming, but he ignored them. He latched onto the other man and rode atop him like a sled as they both skidded across the muddy ground and away from the others.

The entire time, Aldric was using his bursting body to slam his fist repeatedly into the knight’s face, much harder and faster than he should have been able to. He felt the skin of his hands tear and knuckles crack, but he kept attacking.

Aldric’s failed attempts to turn himself into an enforcer a year ago would never have beaten a real one, but maybe he could beat an exhausted one.

Despite Aldric’s surprise attack, the knight recovered quickly. Aldric’s last punch was slapped away mid attack. It collided with the ground in a minor explosion that sent mud flying everywhere, and Aldric screamed as he felt the impact dislocate his elbow joint. The knight tried to grab him and hurl him off, but Aldric’s overpowered legs were still gripping for all they were worth around his opponent’s body.

The knight eventually got smart and started throwing out punches of his own, with one particularly powerful one nailing Aldric right in the jaw. Some of Aldric’s teeth come loose and flew into the air, his eyes seeing double for a moment, but he still maintained his death grip on the knight and refused to be knocked away. With a roar of defiance, Aldric grabbed the arm that had just punched him and lashed out at it, breaking it even through the man’s armor with an awful snap. Sir Balrus screamed in fury and pain, but Aldric shut him up with another punch to the face.

They traded blows for what felt like an eternity, but Aldric was getting the worst of it. The knight’s attacks and his own were slowly breaking his body. Sir Balrus finally broke through Aldric’s weakening grip and bodily rolled him over, driving his knee painfully into Aldric’s stomach and cracking several ribs. Aldric didn’t have his daggers anymore, so he didn’t hesitate to forcefully jab his thumb into the other man’s eye socket.

He didn’t crush the eye, but he got the knight to yell in pain and scramble to his feet. As soon as he was free, Aldric wound up and delivered a merciless kick to the knight’s groin. There was little armor there to pad the blow, and the knight bent over double as he wheezed in pain. Then Aldric followed up with a kick to the face, sending the man flying backwards.

This was no duel, no fight between equals for honor or some other useless crap like that. This was desperate survival, and Aldric had no qualms about fighting dirty. He needed to buy enough time for the old bat to finish whatever it was she was trying to do. Both of his arms were a bloody and bruised mess, and he felt like something inside of him had ruptured, but he couldn’t stop yet. He had to keep struggling. It was all he was good for. Aldric shakily got to his feet again, determined to do just that.

Then his legs gave out. He collapsed into the mud, unable to move any further.

All the severe bodily damage Aldric had accrued until now that had been suppressed by his spell came surging forth to make itself known. Aldric couldn’t even scream in pain, his entire body locked up in agony. It was like a parade of heavily laden carriages had all run over him, one after the other. It took every drop of energy to maintain just his breathing, and even that was quick and shallow.

One internal glance at his mana pool told him it was as dry as a desert. He’d spent every drop that he’d gained from his earlier forced cultivation in the span of thirty seconds. His pool also looked to have also sustained some damage from the insane burden Aldric had placed on it. He wouldn’t be able to use magic for a long time after this, assuming he lived.

The knight had gotten to his feet and was warily watching Aldric’s prone form like he was a sleeping lion, but Aldric had nothing left to give. That had been his last gambit. He had no clever answers or out of the box ideas anymore. He was done. At least he’d struggled to the last, as promised.

“Well, that was... unexpected,” the knight muttered irritably. Aldric allowed himself to feel vindicated that the man sounded like he was in severe pain. “I admire your tenacity, at least, if not your wisdom.”

“Never... never claimed to... to be wise,” Aldric wheezed out. “Just... just stubborn.”

“... indeed,” the knight answered. Aldric could see Miraea desperately half crawling, half dragging herself towards them, but there was no way she’d make it in time with her broken leg. Ida and Talus had already rejoined the penal squad and were helping push back the grizzik riders. The empress still sat in her half-destroyed dome, eyes closed tightly. Aldric was on his own.

“May I have your name, sir mage?” the knight suddenly asked, catching Aldric off guard. “I would know the name of the man who threw a wrench into my carefully laid plans. Loathe as I am to admit it, you made me work harder than I ever would have expected. I very nearly failed.”

“You’re weirdly... polite for... for an enemy...” Aldric muttered. Then he decided he might as well comply. “It’s... Aldric... just Aldric.”

The knight had walked up haltingly to stand over Aldric, poised for the final blow. “I see. Well met, Sir Aldric. I am Sir Balrus Atticus. You have taught me many things today. I will remember your name vividly.”

Aldric choked out a laugh. He realized, in his delirious and near-death state, that he’d finally achieved what he’d originally set out to do. If this wasn’t a glorious battle against all odds, Aldric didn’t know what was. Too bad no one would hear of it.

“At least... someone will... remember...” Aldric groaned as the knight raised his boot up to crush Aldric’s head for a quick death.

Then the very air around them erupted with wild, angry mana.

At least, it felt like it had. Even in Aldric’s useless state, with his mana pool shriveling up from abuse, he could easily feel the tsunami of mana that ripped through the entire canyon with enough force to shake the earth. Sir Balrus immediately forgot all about Aldric and whipped around to face this newest threat.

He found the empress. Her filthy hair whipped around her face as a humongous summoning circle formed around her and then shot into the sky with a blinding light. Aldric had to screw his eyes shut to avoid being blinded, but it still hurt his eyes even through his eyelids. The light show ended almost as abruptly as it had started, leaving the entire battlefield deathly quiet.

Nothing seemed to happen as Aldric blinked away the black spots in his vision, and he worried that the old woman’s spell had somehow failed. Had she not gathered enough mana after all?

The monstrous, earth-shattering roar that followed told him otherwise. Aldric now scrunched up his face for an entirely different reason, his ears ringing from the overwhelming sound. Looking up, he immediately saw what had made it. It was rather hard to miss.

A gargantuan beast that resembled a serpent was emerging from a hole in the sky, looking like a god descending upon the world to pass judgement. Aldric thought he’d been looking at the creature’s head and shoulders, but then realized that was only the front of its snout. The damn thing just kept coming, a never-ending river of silvery white scales that reflected the light of the twilight’s first stars.

Sir Balrus, a mighty warrior and leader of his own forces, was left staring mutely at the celestial dragon like a scared toddler. The mounts of the remaining grizzik riders took one look at the monstrosity and beat feet, throwing their riders without hesitation and scrambling up the canyon wall while hissing in terror. The veronians were left without their greatest advantage and stunned into inaction, but the rhagian forces weren’t much better and didn’t capitalize on it. Even Aldric’s penal squad stood and gawked.

Aldric had never been a religious man, but if someone had told him that this thing was a deity, he would have believed them. He offered a mental prayer of thanks to it, just in case it was, that this Empress Rhagia seemed to like him. He did not want to be her enemy.

“Veronians!” the empress called out, her voice filled with fire and steel. “This fight is over! You have lost! Retreat now or forfeit your lives!”

As if to punctuate her threat, the dragon let out another eardrum-rupturing roar that had everyone but the empress crouching down to the ground in pain and terror.

Aldric wondered why the empress hadn’t just immediately attacked, but then realized the problem. Her own forces and the veronians were still grouped tightly together. As intimidating as her summon was, it wasn’t good for singling out enemies amongst allies. There was no effective way for her to attack without endangering her own people.

Sir Balrus seemed to realize this as well. He was the picture of a man torn, unwilling to give up on his mission but also unwilling to doom all his people to death. And there was no mistaking that would be the result if he fought. There was nothing even an enforcer as powerful as the knight could do against such overwhelming power. Fight or flee, they would all die to the last. Surrender was the only actual choice.

Several minutes passed as the entire battlefield waited in tense silence, aside from the weakly flickering flames of the burning trees and the floating dragon that continually growled with the volume of an avalanche. Sir Balrus was finally the first to break it.

“... may we account for and retrieve our dead?” he asked quietly, his voice defeated. The empress nodded wordlessly. Sir Balrus stared hard at her for several more moments before he sighed.

“We’re withdrawing!” he ordered, not having to carry his voice loudly because of the stunned silence. “Leave your weapons where you stand and retreat with the wounded! We will fall back to the main army and return for our dead later!”

More tense silence followed before one veronian soldier made a point of dropping her spear and walking back to the entrance of the canyon, her arms raised above her head in a display of surrender. Several more followed her example, and then the rest did as well. The air was filled with the sound of clattering weapons falling to the ground and the dejected footfalls of retreating warriors as the enemy slowly began their withdraw. The empress did not release her spell. She kept it going even as she gave new orders.

“We have won this day! Account for our dead and wounded, then be ready to leave as soon as possible! We make for Fort Tebris!”

Despite their supposed victory, no one cheered. The dead and dying littering the floor of the canyon ruined any sort of celebratory mood. Instead, they all immediately set off to do exactly as the empress had ordered, no more eager to stay here than she was.

Aldric, of course, stayed where he was, his body a broken mess. He was busy reeling from the realization that they had survived. His insane bet had actually paid off. They’d taken heavy losses while dancing with the devil, but they were alive. If he wasn’t in such excruciating pain, he might have thought he was dreaming. His struggle hadn’t been pointless, it seemed.

He heard footfalls near his head but lacked the energy to turn and look at the newcomers. When they came into view, he saw Bredig and Talus carrying Miraea between the two of them. Bredig’s leg was still bandaged, but it didn’t look like it bothered him much now. At her request, the two men set Miraea down next to Aldric. Even with her being in horrible shape, she still had it in her to look at Aldric with open concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked tentatively.

Aldric actually snorted a coughing laugh. “Yeah... peachy. Didn’t need my... arms or legs... anyway.” Then, without meaning to, he said something silly. The pain and delirium he was in had turned off the filter between his brain and his mouth. “After all... that... how do... you still look... so damn pretty? Seriously, that’s... that just not... fair...”

Miraea didn’t answer, just stared at his face like she was drinking in every detail. Aldric started to think he might have just ruined their reunion by being weird again, but eventually, she slowly and gently lifted him up and clutched him to her chest, cradling him while stuffing her face into his filthy hair.

Then, in a rare display of open emotion for her, she began bawling great, wailing sobs.

Chapter 13

AS GLAD AS ALDRIC WAS to be alive, calling this situation a “victory” was absurd.

Of the approximately one hundred and fifteen soldiers the empress had fled with, only forty of them remained, including wounded. Every one of her mages besides Miraea and herself was dead. Aldric’s own hundred penal squad members were now thirty-three, with half of those being wounded and a quarter severely so. They had fought off a force of three hundred veronian mounted soldiers and had somehow slain nearly half their number before forcing them to retreat, but this was the definition of a pyrrhic victory.

Aldric couldn’t think about that right now, however. Despite the day’s tragedy and his serious injuries, he presently only had eyes for the dying man in front of him.

Daelus wheezed as he tried to breathe around the hole that had been torn deep into his chest. One look at it was enough to tell Aldric that there was little to be done to save him. Talus hadn’t been lying; they’d used the last of their healing scrolls on Aldric. The empress had no healers, and their medical supplies were already in short supply with so many casualties. From a purely logical and clinical perspective, using precious supplies on a mortally wounded soldier was a waste of resources.

But Aldric wasn’t feeling very logical right now.

The dirty cloth Ida had ripped off a uniform and applied to Daelus’ chest began rapidly turning scarlet as the blood seeped through and stained her hands. The old man’s heart, clearly visible through the deep wound, was beating furiously to supply lifeblood to his organs. It was only making the problem worse. There really was nothing Aldric or anyone else could do. Talus and Bredig sat next to Aldric on the ground, likely feeling just as useless as he did. Talus was trying and failing to keep a reassuring grin on his face, but the big man next to him was openly weeping. With his ravaged body, Aldric couldn’t even hold the old man’s hand as he died.

“Come on, gramps,” Aldric said, trying not to let the hopeless sorrow show on his face. “You can’t go out now. Not after you just made yourself a hero. You saved a gods damn empress, for heaven’s sake. You know what kind of money, wine, and women you’d be swimming in from a grateful patron like that?”

Daelus smiled with bloody teeth, but the pain in his eyes was obvious. “No, boy. Not... not for me. Not this time...”

“To hell with that!” Ida snapped, her frustration and fear breaking through her usually taciturn expression. “Saving my life just to lose your own. Idiot! You trying to haunt my nightmares? Get me to name one of my kids after you? You’re going to make me look bad if you keel over here and now. So shut up and live, you old bastard!”

Daleus’ smile didn’t change as he slowly touched Ida’s hands on his chest. His fingers were bone white and shaking weakly.

“The duty... of the living... is to live,” Daelus wheezed out, bloody spittle seeping out from the side of his mouth. “The young’s job... not mine. Live a good life... for me...”

“Your job is what I say it is!” Aldric snarled. He winced as his anger made his sore body flare with pain. “Now stop talking. I’ll get more help, so just hang on —”

“Aldric...?” Daelus asked, a hint of lucidity appearing on his pained face. Daelus almost never called Aldric by his name, so it brought him up short when he did.

“You did... good, boy,” Daelus whispered. His smile was inappropriately bright and proud, given his situation. “They’re good... good people... they need... need you. Don’t... give up. You’ll... be... something... something great... I know it... Don’t... give...”

The light in Daelus’ eyes slowly faded, replaced by blankness. Aldric could see the moment that Daelus’ heart gave up its final fight, stuttering into stillness. The smile remained on his face, but the life in him was gone. Aldric’s vision blurred as tears fell from his eyes.

“SHIT!” Ida screamed, her tears flowing unchecked now. “Gods damn it! Screw you, Daelus! DAMN IT!”

Bredig was suddenly next to her and holding her tiny body in his massive arms. Aldric half expected her to shove him away, but she buried her face in his chest and sobbed loudly. Members of the penal squad were arrayed around the body of the old man in a circle of grief, all staring solemnly at their dead comrade who had led them through the last of the battle, and many others besides.

Aldric had lost people before, of course. It was impossible to go through what they all had over the years without losses. But Daelus had been the longest living member. Everyone knew him, and he knew them by heart. He’d believed in Aldric when no one else but Kedrin had, when the world had given the old man every reason not to believe in anyone. He, more than Aldric, deserved life to be kind to him, for once. And now he was gone.

Miraea’s gentle arms wrapped Aldric up in an embrace from behind, her cheek against his as she said nothing. She had vehemently refused any instruction from either Aldric or even the empress to leave him alone and was practically tied to his hip. She’d also insisted on being with Aldric when he’d been told of Daelus’ condition. With both of them badly wounded, it wasn’t like he could make her leave. Besides, he didn’t want to be away from her, either.

Strangely, the empress herself also hadn’t left either of them. She was the least wounded of all her people, albeit exhausted from her summoning, and angrily shooed away anyone who attempted to fuss over her. She was standing beside Aldric as he sat on the ground next to Daelus’ body.

“... what was his name?” the empress abruptly asked. Aldric looked at her in confusion, but she was staring at the body with a complicated expression.

“Daelus,” Aldric eventually said. “I never... I never even asked his last name.”

“He never shared it,” Talus said through his tears. “Said he didn’t need a dead man’s name.”

The empress got down on her knees next to Daelus’ body, not caring for the mud or blood that stained her once fine ornamental armor. She reached out and gently touched her fingertips to the old man’s eyes, lowering the eyelids closed.

“Then I thank you, Daelus. I formally adopt you as an honorary member of the House of Rhagia. Generations after will remember you as the hero you are. I will make sure of it.”

Aldric stared blankly at her, not understanding why she would do such a thing. This was not the empress he had imagined growing up, a woman who stood at the head of the society he loathed. He might have thought she was doing it just for appearances, but the look on her face as she turned to place her hand on his cheek like a kindly grandmother blew his suspicions away.

“I am sorry,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “But we must go. We cannot stay here while the enemy knows where I am. I endanger your people and my own by doing nothing. We will make a note of this place and return to account for and bury our dead.”

Aldric realized that his own fallen were included in that statement. That was more respect than anyone else had ever given them. He didn’t like that she was right to leave them here for now, but she was. He looked at the rest of the penal squad, who all looked back at him. Daelus had told him to take care of them. So he would.

“You heard the lady,” he said quietly. There was no need to raise his voice in the somber silence. “We’ll be back for them. Us dying here trying to bring them along won’t do them any favors. Grab the wounded and whatever else you can. Then get moving.”

The penal squad all broke off immediately to do as he asked. Talus, Bredig and Ida swallowed their tears long enough to help Aldric and Miraea struggle to their feet and start to limp away.

“Wait,” Miraea told Bredig, then directed him to lead her over to Daelus’ body. She hobbled on her improvised splint as she reached down and held the old man’s limp hand in hers, squeezing it once.

“Thank you. I’ll take care of him from here. Rest now,” was all she said. Then she released his hand and limped away with Bredig’s help, checking over her shoulder to make sure that Aldric was still close behind her.

“... she’s a keeper, Boss. Don’t screw it up,” Ida sniffled from under Aldric’s right arm. Talus, on his left, grunted his agreement. Like they needed to tell Aldric that.

Within ten minutes, the rest of the rhagian and penal squad forces had rounded up their wounded, putting them on makeshift stretchers or simply carrying them as best as they were able, and set out for Fort Tebris. It was already late, but they couldn’t know when the enemy might change their mind and come back, so they decided it was best to travel at least out of the deepest parts of the forest before resting.

Hardly anyone said anything the entire trip, a pall of sadness following them like a cloud. The penal squad and the rhagian soldiers seemed to keep an awkward distance from each other now that an imminent battle wasn’t around to unite them. The only exception was Aldric, Miraea, Talus, Ida, Bredig, and the empress. Aldric and Miraea shared one of the few remaining horses that the rhagians possessed as it carted a wagon full of wounded behind it. The empress didn’t seem the least bit put off by the band of convicted criminals that were surrounding her, eyeing her with trepidation and suspicion.

It wasn’t until the empress had suddenly asked who exactly his people were that Aldric realized he still had explained nothing to her. Seizing on the question, Miraea had been quick to interrogate the hell out of him, wanting to know anything and everything that had occurred in the years they’d been apart. Aldric tried to briefly sum everything up, but Miraea wasn’t having any of that. He was forced to go into specifics on every tiny detail, regaling her and apparently everyone nearby with his long tale.

The faces of the rhagian soldiers that had been trying to stay close to guard their empress all slowly morphed from blatant suspicion to stunned amazement the more Aldric talked. Even the empress watched him with pure and unabashed fascination.

Aldric could feel himself blushing from all the attention, but Miraea kept goading him on. She even made him continue the story when they camped for the night, the rhagian soldiers still listening as they went about starting campfires to make dinner and setting up tents. The empress had perched herself on the same log bench that Aldric and Miraea were sitting on, like it was a completely normal thing for royalty to do. She listened to Aldric intently and never once interrupted him or left partway through.

Despite being the subject of these stories, Aldric was surprised that it took him the entire travel distance to their first camp to tell the entire story. He explained his experience in the castle dungeons, his joining the military, becoming part of the penal squad, and his many missions with them. It wasn’t until he laid every detail out in a row for others that he realized just what a fantastical journey he’d been on. It hadn’t always been pleasant, for sure, but it was impressively complicated.

When he’d finally finished telling the events leading up to the fight they’d just come from, Aldric looked up to his captive audience and shrugged weakly. “You all know the rest, I guess,” he said, his voice hoarse from talking so much.

Silence was the only thing that greeted him. He hadn’t exactly expected cheers and applause, but he didn’t really know what to do now. The empress came to his rescue, though.

“Alright, story time is over!” she called out to the gathered soldiers. “Back to your duties! You’ve loitered long enough. Give the poor man some space.”

There was a chorus of “yes, your majesty!”, and a few disappointed grumbles, before they all scattered about the camp and left Aldric alone with Miraea and the empress. His own penal squad had been there for most of his story, so they’d retired early for the night.

“... well,” the empress finally said after the silence between the three had carried for a full minute. “That is... quite the tale, Aldric. Thank you for sharing.”

“Yeah, sure,” Aldric mumbled, lost in thought. Then he remembered who he was talking to and hastily corrected himself. “Uh, certainly, your majesty! It was my pleasure.” He tried to sit up straight but gave up when his injured body protested.

“Oh, please,” the empress said with a dismissive hand wave. “You just told me practically your life’s story, and Miraea had already gushed plenty about you to me even before today. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life now. I think formalities are unnecessary, don’t you?”

Miraea squirmed uncomfortably next to Aldric at the empress’ choice of words, but Aldric just looked at the old woman with trepidation. “I don’t know how to talk to you then,” he said cautiously. He’d never enjoyed talking formally, but that usually got him in trouble. How much worse would it be if he were casual with his sovereign?

To his surprise, the empress smirked at him sardonically. “Well, you could always just call me by that flattering name you used for me earlier. What was it again? Something like, ‘granny’?”

Aldric felt the blood leave his face as terror seized him. “Um, sorry about that. It was a heat of the moment thing, and I just —”

The empress cackled loudly, attracting the attention of her nearby soldiers. “Oh, relax! I’m teasing you, child! You may call me whatever you like, so long as you aren’t stiff and formal about it. I think you’ve earned at least that much.”

She smiled at him genuinely as she said, “Please, speak as you would normally do to Miraea. I need more people like you and her in my life that give it to me straight, without all the bowing and insincere compliments.”

It was a surprisingly down-to-earth thing for such a powerful ruler and mage to say. Aldric looked to Miraea for confirmation, who gave him a slight nod and a small smile.

“Alright then,” Aldric began haltingly. “As you like... ma’am?” The empress let out an annoyed click of her tongue, so Aldric quickly corrected himself. “Uh, Gran, I guess?”

Nodding in approval, the empress gave him a pleased smile. “And if I didn’t say it before, then I will now. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Aldric Dengarius. Your empress returns your earlier greeting and wishes you well.” She paused as her smile dimmed and disappeared, replaced with a look of consternation. “I am glad you yet live. Not just for Miraea, but for myself as well. I never thought I would have this chance...”

Aldric looked at her in confusion before the old woman looked him in the eye again with a severe expression. “I am sorry, Aldric.”

Aldric just blinked at her. “Huh?” he asked intelligently, certain he’d misheard her.

“Your suffering is entirely due to my failing,” Gran elaborated. “You should not have been treated the way you were. You are not your father, and his crimes are not yours to bear. I failed you as your empress by allowing those with petty agendas to do to you as they liked in the name of punishing a traitor. I may be empress, but I cannot control the things they do behind my —” She abruptly closed her mouth again and frowned angrily. “No, that doesn’t matter. I am making excuses. It was easier for me to ignore your presence and tell myself that you would be fine on your own, while fully knowing you wouldn’t be. That was my mistake alone. I allowed you to serve as a scapegoat for the frustrations and fear of my people.”

She looked up at Aldric again and smiled sadly. “Miraea was kind enough to regale me with stories of you and your many bright points, though I will admit I believed at the time that her childhood fondness had given her an overly rosy memory of you. I see now that she undersold you. The empire nearly lost a good man, and it is chiefly my fault. Please forgive me.”

She finished by actually bowing her head to Aldric from her seated position.

Aldric couldn’t immediately say anything. Royalty did not bow to anyone, not even other royalty, and especially not to someone as disgraced as Aldric. Any thoughts that this woman was just simply manipulating him or trying to cozy up to him in order to use him or Miraea immediately vanished. Despite years of cynicism, he couldn’t call the gesture anything but genuine.

“Please raise your head, your maj—uh, Gran,” Aldric quickly said. “I never blamed you for anything. To use your own words, you are not wholly responsible for your people's actions. It would only make sense that the son of your would-be killer wouldn’t concern you. There’s no need to apologize.”

The empress looked up at him in obvious surprise. “Truly? You hold nothing against me at all?”

Aldric was about to reply, but then he stopped. Did he? His opinion of the empress hadn’t been stellar, but that was mostly just because of his natural dislike of nobles and the assumption that she wouldn’t be any different. It would make sense if he resented her, but as Aldric explored his feelings, he realized that he genuinely didn’t.

“You could have easily had your revenge today if you hated me,” the empress said. “Did the thought truly not even occur to you? Why would you save me, the woman likely responsible for your life being nearly ruined?”

Even when he’d seen the old woman about to be murdered, Aldric hadn’t hesitated to try to save her. That was mostly because of the tough spot Caffaret had put him and his people in, but they’d never been told the empress would be there. Aldric seriously doubted Caffaret would have sent just the penal squad if he’d known he’d have a chance to save the empress and earn her favor. It was unlikely anyone would have ever been the wiser if Aldric had just let her die. Had he really saved her just because... because why?

Aldric chewed on his words and considered them carefully. After a few more seconds of thought, he did what he always did when he wasn’t sure of what to say; he defaulted to blunt honesty.

“Your death wouldn’t turn my life around,” Aldric said simply. “There was no reason for me to kill you and nothing for me to benefit from if you died. Besides, I don’t want to be the kind of person who kills others out of hand just because he doesn’t like them. Um, not that I hate you or anything!”

The empress’ surprise had only grown at his answer. “You saved my life simply because... because you thought you should? Not even to be rewarded?”

“You needed help,” Aldric answered lamely, as if that alone was a good enough explanation. It sounded oddly idealistic for someone as jaded as Aldric, but he realized he meant it.

Miraea smiled fondly at Aldric, affectionately patting his hand she held clasped in her own. Then she turned to the empress and spoke for the first time in several hours.

“Told you.”

The empress stared hard at Aldric, seeming to search his face for any sort of lie or deception. She must have found none, because she smiled slightly as she appeared to consider her own thoughts.

“Fascinating,” was all she had said before excusing herself for the night.

During the last remaining leg of their arduous journey, Miraea told Aldric what all he’d missed in the years he’d been gone. Contrary to what her father had planned for her, Miraea had steadfastly refused to inherit the position of family matriarch for the Meltisse family. Instead, she had furthered her study of her unusual magic, expanding on Aldric’s prior theories and eventually attaining control of all four elements. It was something widely considered impossible, even for the most gifted of conjurers, to learn new elemental magic outside of what you were born with. To rise to such heights at her age was to be a legend in the making, which had eventually caught the attention of the empress.

“I have been her bodyguard for a year now,” Miraea finished. “I’m still very new to it all, though.”

“What about Zee?” Aldric asked eagerly.

Miraea smiled knowingly. “She’s well. I’ll let you ask for her story when we arrive.” Then she paused, looking mildly worried. “She thought you were dead, though. I hope she doesn’t hurt you.”

As always, Aldric could never tell when Miraea was joking or not.

“Right,” he sighed miserably. “Speaking of, have I mentioned how sorry I am that I—?”

“You are alive,” Miraea interrupted him with such an overwhelming amount of joy in her words that it stole Aldric’s breath for a moment. “I don’t care, as long as you’re alive.”

Aldric stared at her before he smiled back. He felt like someone had just taken a boulder from his shoulders that he hadn’t even known was there.

A polite cough came from the horse next to theirs. Seated upon it was the empress, who once again had opted to accompany them. She had a fond smile as she looked at the both of them together. Aldric and Miraea simultaneously looked abashed, having completely forgotten she was even there.

“She was being modest telling her own story, you know,” the empress said. “I had intended to ask her to join me even before she asked to. She’s absurdly talented, not to mention extremely popular. They call her my Angel back in the capital, a beautiful goddess who guards me day and night with her powerful magic.”

Aldric looked back at Miraea with an eyebrow raised. She turned pink but did her best to keep up a blank expression. “It’s a dumb name,” she grumbled. “I told them to stop already.”

The empress leaned in close to Aldric to whisper conspiratorially, but since Miraea was seated right behind him on the same horse, she no doubt heard it, too. “She also left out the part where she had requirements before she would work for me. Demanded that I issue a public statement clearing you of any wrongdoing in your father’s schemes. She seemed convinced that I wouldn’t do it and had been ready to lay into me with her arguments until I agreed. I think that was the first and only time I’ve ever heard her yell before.”

Miraea was now tomato red, hiding her face in Aldric’s back. “It doesn’t matter now. They all thought you were dead, so it isn’t like I changed much. We will have to rectify that when we return home.”

At the mention of home, Aldric frowned. That’s right. They were going back to Redan, eventually. What about his reputation? What about the penal squad? He was happy to see Miraea again and had no desire to leave her anytime soon, assuming she would have even let him. He’d be thrilled to see Zasia again as well, even if it was likely that she would kill him for real. Anxiety still tugged at him, however. What was he supposed to do in Redan? Did he really want to go back?

In the end, he said nothing, simply enjoying Miraea’s quiet company and trying to pick through his suddenly scattered thoughts.

~~~

DYLAS CAFFARET WAS trying and failing to keep his fury in check.

That rat bastard had done it again. There was no way Aldric should have been able to survive, much less succeed, at such an impossible task. And yet, against all odds, Dylas’ people on the walls had reported seeing a band of wounded soldiers approaching the fort from the northeast, accompanied by rhagian soldiers and scores of wounded.

Dylas had come to the wall to verify it himself. His hopes that they were somehow mistaken were quickly dashed. Their numbers had surely dwindled, but Dylas was certain that cockroach had survived. He could just feel it, like an itch inside of his skull. He would need to come up with something more deadly next time.

His sour thoughts slowly turned bright, however. At the very least, he had no reason to fear Aldric anymore. Years of research had finally told Dylas just whose cursed spawn Aldric was.

He’d been foolish. Dylas had ordered his spies to investigate current noble families. He would never have considered checking those that had been recently disgraced. He hadn’t even been aware that Varon Dengarius had a son until his people started investigating rumors surrounding the assassination attempt on the empress years ago. Apparently, Aldric had been involved and was summarily ostracized by noble society.

Dylas had no reason to fear the disgraced heir of a broken house. It galled him that such a pathetic “noble” had tricked him all these years, but there would be a reckoning. Oh, yes. Dylas would make extra sure of that. A crooked smile broke out onto his face as Dylas imagined the many things he would do to Aldric once he was within Dylas’ domain again. Not even Aldric’s pet criminals could save him now.

Dylas was still smirking smugly to himself when the group of soldiers marching towards their fort suddenly raised noble standards, identifying themselves to Fort Tebris as allies. It wasn’t surprising that a noble had been part of the fleeing forces from the main front. What was surprising was the house the standards represented.

A massive white serpent, a celestial dragon, circling a black tower. The crest of the Rhagian royal family.

Dylas blinked numbly as he tried to tell himself his eyes were tricking him. They weren’t. As the group got closer, Dylas could clearly see the regal woman at the head of the procession. One man that had been on the wall with Dylas panicked and blew a horn to signal all those inside the base to assemble at the north gate. Pandemonium broke loose from behind the fort walls as everyone rushed there. They’d clearly expected an enemy, but seeing the standard of their empress, they immediately flooded out of the gate and presented themselves on their knees in welcome.

Dylas had rushed down to the ground floor to join them, cursing mentally the entire time. How was the empress here? Dylas had never been told she was part of the routed forces. Then again, if the situation had been as dire as it had sounded, information like that was likely confidential to protect Her Majesty’s location.

Damn it, Dylas would have gone himself with as many soldiers as he could spare if he’d known that. But of course, Aldric would get all the credit! Dylas had to find some way to swing this in his favor.

Dylas finally made it outside the gate and took his spot at the front of the welcoming procession, ducking down in supplication. He waited for several minutes and listened as the empress’ group approached and stopped just short of the bowing soldiers, then raised his voice in the sudden silence.

“House Caffaret greets their Empress!”

“Greetings, Empress!” several hundred voices all echoed in unison before going quiet again. Dylas obediently kept his gaze to the ground until called upon, as was Rhagian custom in the presence of their ruler. He did, however, sneak a peek at her through his bangs, making sure not to move his head even a single inch.

She sat up straight and tall astride her mount, looking haggard, but no less regal for it. Most of her guards that had been on horseback had dismounted so as not to be above or at her level while she prepared to speak, but not all of them. Two riders remained on the same horse and directly behind and to the right of the empress in a place of honor. One was a gorgeous woman, and the other was the one man Dylas least wanted to see.

Aldric looked like he’d been through hell and was clearly injured, but he was, unfortunately, alive. Out of nowhere, one of Dylas’ people broke ranks and rudely rushed up to Aldric’s horse. The empress’ guards had moved to intercept the young man, but Aldric called out to them.

“He’s a friend. Let him through.”

Bizarrely, the guards obeyed him without question and even bowed to the healer that ignored the empress entirely and rushed up to Aldric. The beautiful woman riding behind Aldric watched the newcomer warily, holding Aldric to herself in a way that was clearly possessive and protective, but didn’t stop the man when he started healing Aldric. Her eyes scanned the welcoming procession before them. She said nothing and gave nothing away on her face, but her eyes glinted with what looked like anger.

When the woman’s violet eyes eventually landed on Dylas, he instantly recognized her as Miraea Meltisse, the former heir apparent to the Meltisse House. They had never met, but she had been described to him in great detail as a fellow Great House heir. The rumors had not done her loveliness any justice. Even as tired and dirtied as she was, she still shone like a beacon through all of it. Lady Meltisse broke eye contact with Dylas to whisper something into Aldric’s ear. Then Aldric looked to Dylas and nodded once, grim faced.

When Lady Meltisse’s gaze found Dylas again, he involuntarily shivered. Gone was the lovely woman, replaced by a cold-eyed master conjurer with power far beyond anything Caffaret could ever hope to match. He felt like a bug under the gaze of a hateful deity and quickly lowered his gaze to the ground again, more out of fear than respect. How the hell had someone like Aldric become so close to such a woman?

“Young Lord Caffaret,” Empress Rhagia intoned in an oddly neutral tone, capturing everyone’s attention immediately. “Your empress returns your greeting and wishes you well. I am glad to see things seem to have gone well with your capturing of Fort Tebris. Well done.”

“It was at significant risk and cost to ourselves, your majesty, but we are happy to better serve the empire’s goals,” Dylas answered, eager to extol of his achievements to the empress. The woman did not look impressed, however. She seemed... displeased? Had he laid it on a bit thick? She had no way of knowing he was lying, though.

“I see,” the empress replied simply, still in that blank tone. “I suppose I should expect such a thing from you. You are, after all, the one who sent these fine men and women to my rescue, are you not?”

Dylas locked up, realizing he’d forgotten something important. It would have been obvious to anyone that Aldric’s people were in the penal squad. Any other officer that had requested help from Dylas would have taken such “help” as an insult. Damn it all! Why couldn’t Aldric just get himself killed like he was supposed to?

Dylas surreptitiously wiped at the sweat that had formed on his brow as he tried to make up for his blunder. He would just have to sell it. “Certainly, my empress. I would, of course, spare no expense in the safety and well-being of our sovereign. We could only send our finest, and despite his past issues, Private Gurdis has shown... remarkable talent and unconventional thinking.” Dylas was amazed he could utter such tripe without vomiting.

The empress raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? You consider your penal squad your finest? How very forward thinking of you, young Lord Caffaret. Few would consider criminals and deserters a valuable war asset.”

“I... I am happy to use whatever resources I have at my disposal to further our empire’s goals, your majesty,” Dylas answered rather pathetically.

Empress Rhagia considered Dylas for a moment, her eyes penetrating, before she finally said, “Excellent. I expect the best from those appointed to be my military commanders. Such foresight is very becoming of someone from one of the Great Houses of Rhagia.”

Dylas felt himself relax slightly at the praise. Good, so he could leverage this for his own benefit after all. Luckily, it seemed all the empress needed was simple platitudes to satisfy her. Dylas hadn’t dared hope this woman was that shallow, but he’d take any out he could.

“Considering such inventiveness,” the empress continued, “I believe a promotion is in order. I need innovators working at the core of our army for the coming conflict.”

Dylas’ hopes soared. This was far more than he ever could have hoped for. Perhaps she would place him in the main army that marched on Verona? Hell, maybe she’d put him in charge of it. The hero that had saved the life of the empress couldn’t possibly ask for too much, now could he?

“Within the week, report to the capital to begin your work as one of my military advisors,” the empress declared to all present. “You will surely be instrumental in planning our victory against the enemies of our nation.”

As quickly as Dylas’ hopes had risen, they all came crashing down again. An advisor position. In the capital. All the way back home. No. This couldn’t be happening. Why was this happening?

The war council in the capital comprised veterans who no longer possessed the ability to go out and wage war on the field, typically because of old age. They would never go directly to battle to win glory and were often overlooked by the nobility and the public at large. To promote someone as young as Dylas to such a position was often a polite but meaningful way of removing a displeasing military officer from their position of power. Dylas would be surrounded by dozens of old men and women who had no respect for his limited experience and would likely never heed his advice. He also wouldn’t win himself prestige on the field. He was effectively being punished under the guise of a promotion.

Worse, the empress had declared this to every one of his soldiers gathered here, including his officers. They all would know what such a promotion really meant. It would not be long before rumors of House Caffaret losing their favor with the empress would begin circulating across the empire. Dylas would be lucky if he still inherited the patriarch position at this rate.

“Who is next in command?” the empress asked. Dylas’ second kneeling next to him was about to speak, an eager smile on his face to take Dylas’ position, but the empress spoke again before he could. “On second thought, that is shortsighted of me. Surely your success is in part because of the people you have surrounded yourself with. It would be unfair of me to expect the same level of performance if I threw you into such new circumstances alone. You may take all your officers with you back to the capital. I will have new ones appointed myself later. In the meantime, those soldiers still here will report directly to my people.”

The empress stepped forward, ignoring all the soldiers still kneeling before her as she made her way into the fort with her tired and wounded entourage. The empress’ officers began snapping out orders to assist with the wounded. Dylas’ former army hastily complied.

“Oh, and I will be commandeering your penal squad into my own forces. I find myself in need of good people to replace my losses, and with you thinking so highly of them, I have no reason to doubt their ability. Your contribution to our empire is appreciated, young Lord Caffaret.”

Dylas said and did nothing. He stayed in his kneeling position, staring at the ground in front of his face with wide, unblinking eyes. He imagined the faces of his officers looked quite similar. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to argue her decision. She was his empress, and he was her lord. She had no obligation to consider how he felt.

“Is there a Captain Rimult here?” Lady Meltisse called out, gaining everyone’s attention. The captain in question next to Dylas warily raised his hand, like he was a naughty schoolboy about to be punished.

“You’re under arrest for assaulting a lower enlisted,” Lady Meltisse stated with finality. Then she kicked the horse she was riding with Aldric and trotted right past the stunned man.

“Ah, yes,” the empress said, snapping her fingers at a group of her people. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Captain Rimult could only stare at the empress and Lady Meltisse in horror as the empress’ guards quickly bound his wrists and hauled him off, being none too gentle about it. As Lady Meltisse’s horse passed by Dylas still kneeling in shock on the ground, he heard Aldric’s voice speak up just loud enough for Dylas to hear.

“Congrats, Advisor,” he muttered, the amusement plain in his voice.

Of course. He had done all of this.

Dylas said nothing in reply as the empress’ retinue passed into the fort, but the hand he’d held flat against the ground in supplication clenched hard enough against the dirt to tear open bloody fingertips.

~~~

“UNFORTUNATELY, THAT is the most I can do to him for now,” the empress told Aldric as she, Miraea, Aldric, and a few of her personal retainers settled down into chairs inside Dylas’ former office. The desk and shelves had all been cleaned out, the former field commander’s personal effects left in a haphazard pile outside of the barracks for Dylas to collect himself. “I am sorry, Aldric. From what you have told me, he deserves more, but his family does still carry much influence. I am not in a position to spurn them too harshly.”

“That’s more than I would have hoped for,” Aldric said. “Did you... did you mean what you said? That you would take the penal squad into your own forces?”

“Indeed. I had planned on simply pardoning them from whatever crimes they’d committed and reinstating them in the army. I couldn’t place them too highly without raising too many eyebrows, but I’m sure they’ll be better treated than they were here. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” Aldric hastily answered. “I was just surprised, is all. It’s... it’s probably the only stroke of luck we’ve ever had.” Aldric tried to not think about how Daelus and over half of his people would never get to enjoy such freedom. It must have shown on his face, however, because Miraea squeezed his hand and leaned into his shoulder.

Aldric shook off the dour thought and focused again on the present. “Thank you, Gran. You don’t know how much that means to us.”

The empress suddenly wore the same broad smile she did anytime he directly addressed her. She seemed to delight in the nickname he’d given her. “You are most welcome, but I believe you may have misunderstood me. I’m not taking all of them.”

Aldric abruptly felt anxious, but the empress just laughed. “Be at peace, Aldric. I will keep my word. Goodness, you really show everything you’re feeling on your face, don’t you? You’ll have to work on that with what I have planned for you. Such a stark contrast to Miraea.” She gave a sardonic smirk to the woman in question, who’d still refused to leave Aldric’s side even after they’d both been healed. “Perhaps that’s part of why you two get along so well, hmmm?”

Miraea smiled shyly, but Aldric was still looking at the empress in confusion. “What does that mean? What have you planned for me?”

The empress gave him a smile. “To bring you with me, of course. You didn’t think I’d let someone of your talent get away from me, did you?”

Aldric’s natural pessimism and distrust of nobility came surging to the surface as he frowned at the empress. “Oh?” he asked darkly. “Are you asking or telling?”

Her retainers clearly took issue with his tone, but the empress chuckled with satisfaction.

“Ah, there he is. I wondered where that brash and assertive version of you had gone. I, of course, have no intention of making you do anything you do not wish to, but I’m going to try to woo the hell out of you before I let you leave here today.”

When Aldric just blinked at her in confusion, she elaborated. “I want you to work for me. Not the empire, or my staff, or the city of Redan. For me. Directly. There would be no other that you answered to, and you would be given every resource you could imagine for your own work. Not to mention the prestige that comes with being my personal sorcerer. You mentioned in your story that it had been your primary reason for joining the military, yes?”

Aldric had to be dreaming. He’d expected gratitude, of course, but this was so far beyond that. She was right, of course. It was hard to get more prestige than as a direct report to the most powerful woman on the continent. The Dengarius family’s past transgressions would be a thing of the past. Aldric would essentially be set for life, and whatever he wanted would be his just by naming it. He would have no problem staying with Miraea and Zasia, either. It would literally solve every problem Aldric currently had, and then some.

“Is it really so surprising?” the empress asked. “You saved my life, Aldric. You saved the life of my soldiers. You saved the life of a woman very dear to the both of us. Why would I not be interested in you? Based on the story you told us, and from what I know about you from Miraea, you are an extraordinary man and a rare talent. I would be happy to have you answer to me.”

Aldric looked at Miraea and realized he needn’t bother asking her what she thought. Her eyes were shining as she gave him one of her brain-melting smiles. That alone would normally be enough to convince Aldric, but there was something lingering at the back of Aldric’s mind that made him hesitate. Not sure of what it was, he stalled for time.

“What exactly would I be doing?” he asked, hoping it wouldn’t be interpreted as rude that he was questioning such a generous offer. If the empress was offended, she didn’t show it.

“We can hash out the details on the trip back,” she answered dismissively. “I know that true genius will wilt under an overbearing gardener, so I intend to give you a great deal of free rein. You will, of course, be furthering the goals of the empire, however.”

That sounded reasonable, if a bit vague. The doubt Aldric had been feeling lessened, but it was still there. It wasn’t his normal insecurities. From what he’d seen, and with Miraea’s own stamp of approval, he didn’t have any problem taking this woman at her word.

It wasn’t about Kedrin, either. He would stay here with the rest of the healers. They’d already discussed it beforehand. Aldric had no reason to worry for his friend if Dylas and his cronies were gone, and Kedrin still wanted to fulfill his goal of healing those who most needed it. He also threatened to grow Aldric a third eye in the middle of his forehead if he didn’t keep in contact. He’d laughed while he said it, so he must have been kidding. Hopefully.

Thinking of those he cared for, Aldric had an epiphany.

“And what about my people? The penal squad. What happens to them?”

“As I said, they will be instated in my own army. They will not be put in such a horrible position again, I assure you.”

And there it was. Aldric now realized what his hesitation stemmed from. To take this offer was to abandon his own people. Talus, Bredig, Ida, and all the others would be left to their own fates without him. He knew they knew how to take care of themselves, but it still felt like he was dumping them for a better opportunity. They had lost many of their number, and they were already a very insular group. He doubted they would get along well with the other soldiers, who might see them as criminals who had somehow lucked into a pardon. Earning their respect would be difficult.

And, more importantly, they wouldn’t have his leadership. As capable as they all were, Aldric couldn’t help but worry. He’d spent five years taking care of those people as best as he was able. It was hard to let go of that responsibility. Perhaps that was egotistical, thinking that only he could ever lead them and help them prosper, but it was how he felt.

And now, he was being offered the chance to leave all of that behind. Everything Aldric had ever wanted had been placed in front of him on a silver platter. All he needed to do was reach out and take it...

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” Aldric finally answered after long minutes of silence. “But I politely decline your generous offer.”

The empress and her retainers looked dumbstruck. “You would turn down my offer just like that? And what did I say about calling me ‘your majesty’?”

Ignoring her, Aldric barreled forward with his stupid decision. “The penal squad might be a bunch of convicted criminals, deserters, and vagrants, but they’re my people. I’m sure they would be better off in your army than here, but I still can’t just leave them to their own devices. They will need me, now more than ever. I’m not asking for anything grand, but if you truly want to thank me, please give me command of them again. We can be a separate unit like we were before, if that suits you better.”

The empress blinked at him for several moments, clearly at a loss. When she finally answered him, her face was stern and hard.

“I see. You would reject my offer, yet make demands of your own? Quite bold of you, young Lord Dengarius. Few are so brave as to deny me my wishes. You would cast aside my kind offer in favor of barely moving from where you were previously?”

Realizing that he’d finally managed to offend the old woman, Aldric decided he needed to make his sincerity known. Gently withdrawing his hand from Miraea, he got down from his chair and kneeled on his hands and knees, bowing his head to the empress in the most formal bow he could manage.

“Please, your majesty. I beg of you.”

Silence reigned for a long time, long enough that Aldric started to get nervous. This was a rather crazy request. He was throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime right to the ruler of the Empire’s face. But he knew deep down that he could still make this work. He could elevate his people to such a place that his and their goals could all be met, as long as they were given a chance to be more than just the penal squad. Aldric was sure of it.

Oddly enough, Miraea was the first to break the silence.

“Do I need to say it? I told you. Again. That was mean, Minerva.”

Her words made no sense to Aldric, but the empress’ heavy sigh of exasperation made him look up at her again.

“Yes, I suppose it was. I apologize, my dear. He just seems too good to be true. I’m not used to dealing with such genuine people like him. I had to test him.”

Aldric had now risen from his bow and was looking at the two women with an expression of bewilderment. The empress sighed again and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Aldric. You’ve passed all my little tests. Forgive this old woman for being so jaded and untrusting.”

Aldric stared at her. “Wait, what? Tests? What do you mean?”

“Your first was saving my life,” the empress explained, counting on each of her fingers as she listed each of her points. “I didn’t know I would be testing you then, but it still speaks volumes about your bravery and ability to defend me. Second, your accepting of my apology, as well as your reasoning for why you saved me. Integrity and virtue are important values for my people to have, after all.”

The empress gave him a beatific smile as she counted off her third finger. “And finally, honor. To be offered your every wish and still turn it down, in favor of standing with those you deem your own. I think I can stop there. You pass.”

Miraea’s normally passive face looked guilty as she avoided Aldric’s suspicious gaze. “She did the same to me,” she explained while her gaze lingered on the floor in front of her. “She has good reason to be distrustful. It isn’t personal.”

“No, it isn’t,” the empress agreed. “But it is important for what I have in mind for you. Your former squad as well, since they will join you.”

Aldric was getting whiplash from the twists and turns of this conversation. “Wait, my squad? They can come with me? And to do what?”

The empress smiled widely at him. “The most important job of all, one you’ve already demonstrated you excel at: keeping me alive.”

Epilogue

ZASIA DRAGGED HER HANDS roughly over her face as Redan Academy’s final school bell rang for the day. She rarely acted so improperly, but it had been a long day. The end of the school year was coming up, so actually teaching classes was only a small portion of her current responsibilities. Grading, paperwork, advisories for next year’s classes, and dealing with self-important parents all consumed her hours, even outside the classroom.

As talented as Zasia was in magic, teaching it was an entirely different animal. It was one thing to understand a concept, but an entirely different one to make someone else understand it. It didn’t help that she was teaching the younger students, most under the age of thirteen, and with the attention span to match. Even with all that considered, however, she truly loved her new job. There was a special sort of vicarious pride that came from the accomplishments of someone you taught

She was suddenly reminded of the way Aldric used to light up whenever he found something he hadn’t known before, then ruthlessly devoured every book he could find on the subject. More than once, she’d employed explanations and examples he had used to teach her for her own classes. Perhaps her love for education had come from those long-gone days.

The old hurt flared up in her chest, quickly smothered by years of practice. She could still perfectly imagine his face, even now. Five years likely wasn’t that long of a time, but it felt like an eternity to Zasia. She knew she still wasn’t over it. She’d just gotten better at hiding it. Memories of being together, all the way back to when they were barely five or six, haunted her nightly. Accusing her.

Zasia rapidly rubbed at her face to drown out the dark thoughts, mussing her hair in the process. She really just needed to get over it. It didn’t do to dwell on such things. Zasia could lose herself for hours in misery if she let herself, so she ignored it as best as she was able. It was harder to do so when she was on her own.

Zasia, despite her many social connections and moderate fame, had very few people she could definitively call a “friend”. Her current closest and oldest, Miraea, was off on campaign with the empress. Even when she wasn’t, she was constantly in the castle performing her duties. Even the rest of the staff at the Redan Academy were simply work acquaintances, at best. Anytime Zasia interacted with her coworkers, most of whom had been teaching when she was still attending, she would only see the faces of those that had treated Aldric poorly in the past. It was a daily reminder of the loss of her best friend, and that those responsible for his misery had never seen punishment for it. She had no desire to be friends with their ilk.

It had always been like that, however. Zasia could talk to just about anyone, but she almost never felt close to them. Too often, they simply desired to use her for their own ends. Aldric had been the first to be different. Zasia could still remember when she’d first noticed how close Miraea and Aldric had become, jealous and worried that the illustrious Meltisse heir was trying to take her only friend away.

Gods, there she went again! She really needed to just get out of here and do something else. It must have been the stress getting to her. The end of the year was always like that.

“Professor Glory?” a boy’s voice called out from the door to her classroom. Turning to face the speaker and doing her best to look presentable again, she found Nile Cherdre peeking around the door nervously. He was one of her brighter students.

“Oh, good! Thought I’d missed you! I was, uh, busy with... things,” the boy sheepishly explained as he entered the classroom, then placed his bag down on his usual desk to rifle through it.

“That’s quite all right, Nile,” Zasia said gently, taking in the newly forming bruise just under the boy’s eye. She got up from her desk and walked over to him as he laid out a mess of papers on the table, then gently touched his shoulder and bent down to look him in the eye. “Who hit you this time?”

Nile hesitated, staring at his papers as he contemplated his answer. Zasia gave him a small nudge.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me, Nile.”

He considered her nervously for a few more moments, and then finally muttered, “... Leorda.”

“I thought so,” Zasia sighed. Tanim Leorda, heir to House Leorda, one of the Four Great Houses. He wasn’t a terrible kid, but he had an ego the size of a war galleon. Nile was an extremely bright boy from a barely known noble house, and yet he consistently beat Tanim on almost every test. Zasia was fine with competitiveness, but not when it spilled over into bullying.

“I will speak with him after class tomorrow,” Zasia promised. “If he does it again, let me know immediately, alright?”

Nile still wouldn’t look at her, face downcast. “Yes ma’am. I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want to learn.”

“I know you do,” Zasia answered, smiling and gently patting his head fondly. This was another reason she had become a professor; to make sure that those who earnestly wished to learn could do so without judgement or spite. It was the least she could do in Aldric’s memory.

“Now, what was it you didn’t understand?” Zasia asked as she peered over the boy’s shoulder at his papers.

“This rune diagram,” Nile explained, pointing to one of the assigned problems for the sorcerers in Zasia’s class. “I can’t figure it out, no matter how many things I try. I gave up and just started guessing, but that hasn’t worked.”

“It often doesn’t,” Zasia agreed. “And can be dangerous if this was a proper spell. Let me see...” She studied the diagram for a moment. Then for a minute. Then two. By the third, it dawned on Zasia that she couldn’t do it either. Well, that was just ridiculous! She had written these problems herself. Had she made a mistake?

She made a mental note to grade her other students appropriately and was about to apologize to Nile when a man’s voice startled her, speaking up from behind Nile’s other shoulder.

“Apologies, Professor, but I believe you might have gotten that wrong,” he said conciliatorily. “You used a tera rune instead of durna in the initial phase of the enchantment. It modifies the interpretation and flow of the spell and interacts incorrectly with the other elements. An honest mistake.”

“Oh, I see it!” Nile said excitedly, not even acknowledging the man that had magically appeared as he scribbled out his past answers to make a new one. Zasia said nothing, transfixed by the ghost standing beside her.

He was older than she remembered, with a shaggy beard and unkempt hair down to his chin. His steel-grey eyes, filled with curiosity and wit, now somehow looked darker. It was like they’d seen things that couldn’t be unseen, lacking the boyish air she knew them for. His lips were parted in a sad sort of smile, one of uncertainty and guilt. It was the same smile he’d given her every time she’d caught him doing something short sighted or moronic. Gods, but she’d missed that smile, even if seeing it here and now made absolutely no sense to her.

“Hey, Zee,” Aldric said quietly. “Missed you.”

Zasia opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then shut it again. She couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had rendered her speechless. Emotions bubbled up from the depths of her heart, feelings she’d thought she’d buried, and demanded to all come out at once. One in particular was far stronger than the others, however, and it seized Zasia firmly.

Aldric abruptly went flying across the classroom, sent there by the wind spell Zasia had just hurled into his face.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Zasia screamed with vocabulary she wouldn’t normally be caught dead using in public. “Five years! Five years later, and all you have to say is ‘Hey, missed you’?”

Aldric collided roughly with a bookshelf against the far wall, then tumbled to the stone ground with a pained wheeze.

“Um...” Nile murmured, looking terrified. “Professor, why are...?”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Aldric wheezed from his place still on the floor. “I deserved that.” He simply continued to lie there, waiting for whatever Zasia threw at him next. That somehow only made her angrier.

“Say something, damn you!” Zasia screamed again, marching up to his prone form with another dozen spells all geared up and ready to go. “Explain yourself! I know you know how to write! Is it beyond you to send a damn letter? Were you just going to let me think you were dead until you decided on your own to just come waltzing back like nothing ever happened?”

“I’m sorry, Zee,” Aldric said quietly, looking miserable. “I don’t have an excuse. I’m sorry.” His earnest regret only made Zasia’s fury burn brighter. He wasn’t even going to put up a fight. How else was she going to burn off all this emotion surging within her?

“Do you think it funny?” she snarled, a ball of fire forming just over her shoulder from her will alone. “To watch me grieve my best friend in the world, just to reappear again like it’s nothing? It hurt so much I could barely stand it! It took years for me to come to terms with it! Aldric, I thought you were DEAD! I thought you’d killed yourself! I thought —!”

Zasia’s rage filled tirade choked off as her eyes stung, her voice thick. “I thought I’d failed you. That I’d left you to shoulder everything on your own. That I couldn’t save you.” Tears spilled down her face and ruined her makeup, but she didn’t care. “You son of a bitch,” she sobbed. “I thought...”

Aldric was immediately on his feet again, reaching out and grabbing Zasia tightly in a fierce hug. “You didn’t,” he whispered in her ear. “I did. I failed. You didn’t. I’m sorry, Zee. I’m so sorry.”

Zasia wanted to hit him. He didn’t deserve to just walk back into her life like he’d always been there. She should have hurt him as much as he hurt her. She didn’t, though. The fireball that had been hovering over her shoulder fizzled out with a puff, the angry intent that had been fueling it no longer there. Forgetting all propriety or where she was or who else they were with, she broke down into heaving sobs like a child as she crumpled in on herself. Aldric still held her as he slid to the floor with her.

Years of suppressed agony came flooding out of her, all replaced with overwhelming relief. He was alive. Her best friend was alive. She hadn’t failed him. She could still make things right. Aldric whispered assurances to her the whole while, his face wet with tears as they cried together.

It was several minutes before Zasia remembered they weren’t alone. She removed her face from Aldric’s neck and looked to find poor Nile staring at them, a wide-eyed and lost expression on his face. She also saw Miraea approaching the boy from behind, her face filled with a sad sort of happiness.

“Excuse me,” Miraea whispered to Nile, who whipped around and stared at her slack jawed. “Do you mind leaving us for now? They will probably be a while.”

Nile bobbed his head up and down frantically as he gathered his things and fled the room. Zasia made a mental note to apologize to him later, but that could wait. The only thing that mattered to her in the entire world right now was that Aldric was here in the flesh. All her senses were telling her so, even if her mind was having a hard time accepting it.

“You’re real, right?” Zasia sobbed, afraid of the answer. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to take it if she woke up and found that this had all been a dream.

“Yep. I’m real,” Aldric answered into her ear. Then he paused before he added, “I mean, I hope I am. The last few weeks of my life have been pretty crazy, but it would be super lame if that was all just a dream. How weird would it be if we’re both having the same one right now?”

He choked abruptly as Zasia clubbed him hard in the stomach. “Right, sorry. It’s a defense mechanism. Yes, I’m real.” he croaked.

Miraea came to crouch down nearby before she took both of them in her arms, saying nothing. That only redoubled Zasia’s crying for several more minutes before she finally gained some modicum of control over herself. She couldn't believe that all three of them were together again at long last. She still didn’t let go of Aldric or move from their place on the floor as she demanded that he explain everything to her.

And so, the three friends sat there for what must have been hours as Aldric gave his story. It was predictably fantastical and ludicrous, and filled with all sorts of dangers and risks that Zasia would have to punish him for later. Despite that, Aldric once again proved to Zasia that he was a mad genius. Had anyone else told the story, she wouldn’t have believed them.

“... and so, here I am.” Aldric concluded as the last rays of sunset barely illuminated the room through the windows. He’d sat on the ground and shifted Zasia to sit across his lap when his knees had started to hurt. “I made it back here as soon as I could. Miraea wouldn’t spill no matter how much I asked, so I didn’t know you were a professor now. It suits you. Can’t imagine anyone else more fit to bossing others around and judging them all day long.”

He was deflecting with humor again, but Zasia had finally calmed down enough to allow a small chuckle to reach her lips. “Glad to see you know who’s in charge. And if I demanded that you stay with us from now on?”

“You’re the boss,” he answered immediately, and Zasia felt the last of her anxiety melt away. “I don’t intend to go anywhere else anytime soon.”

“Good,” Zasia breathed out, nuzzling her face further into his neck. “We’ll... we’ll need to find you somewhere to live. Your old house is obviously gone, but I might be able to talk my family into letting you stay.” An evil smile parted her lips at the thought. “Oh, yes. I can’t wait to see their faces when they see that you’re still alive. It might have all been worth it just to see that.”

Aldric laughed. “That’d be fun, but I don’t need it.” Zasia finally loosened her death grip on Aldric just enough to peer at his face in confusion. He was grinning at her. Miraea was too.

“Actually, I’ve got a place.” Aldric pointedly looked out the classroom window facing Castle Redan. “Perks of my new employer. Best house in the city, I’d bet.”

Afterword

WHOO! THIS ONE TOOK quite a bit, but it was worth it! If you liked this book and would like to help me out, feel free to leave me a review on the platform of your choice. That really does help me a lot and lets me know that you all want me to keep this series going.

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In all seriousness, I really would appreciate it. In the meantime, I’ll continue work for Remedial Magic 4 (yes, there will be more) as well as a new modern fantasy / litRPG series that I've been taunting my mailing list with for months now. I’m hoping to have that second one done before the end of this year, luck permitting.

Thanks for being a reader, and I’ll see you next time!

-Nathan