18 - Responsibility

  Morning brought sunlight and birdsong - too cheerful, Garrick thought, for what felt like a tribunal.

  He stood in the center of the king’s study, hands clasped behind his back as if awaiting sentencing - head bowed, jaw locked, counting the lines in the wood flooring. The medallion sat heavy in one palm, edges pressed into the skin in fierce judgement. Fenric’s silence had gone on longer than expected. The king sat behind his desk, head in hands as he processed Garrick’s report. Veylan was also present. He stood nearer the window, arms folded as he observed without interruption. A mildly perturbed expression gave weight to the searching look the archmage used to probe the high commander for any signs of weakness.

  Or perhaps that was just Garrick’s own guilt.

  “I’m struggling to understand,” Fenric said finally, foot tapping beneath his desk. “You promised me this was a good idea. You promised me that you had everything handled. I let you do this because I thought I could trust your judgement. Has my trust been misplaced?”

  A slap. No less than what he deserved, but he still winced.

  “The fault does lie with me,” Garrick admitted.

  His voice was steady. Surprising. He didn’t feel steady.

  Fenric mouth twitched down. “So, you admit it was your leadership that allowed your men to ignore direct orders. To place this entire operation in jeopardy.”

  “I do,” Garrick said.

  Fenric’s gaze sharpened. His foot stilled.

  “What should be done then?” he asked, voice low. “Your knights disobeyed direct orders. Or at the very least showed severely negligent behavior. You nearly compromised a war-ending secret. If I let this go without consequence, I risk setting a precedent. That cannot go unanswered.”

  Garrick didn’t hesitate.

  “Then hold me accountable,” he said. “Discipline the commander, not the soldiers. They followed my lead. I should have seen their strain. I should have pulled them out.”

  Veylan shook his head. “The Second Order has been praised for their drive and fortitude across the kingdom. They’ve fought longer, harder, and with fewer losses than any other unit under our flag. Their strength is legendary.”

  “But even legends have moments of weakness. And they lost too much. Too fast.”

  The silence that followed Garrick’s words felt weighted. Fenric leaned back and sighed.

  “You ignored my letters.”

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  Garrick bowed his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “And mine,” Veylan added quietly.

  “Yes,” Garrick said again. “I’m sorry.”

  “You were supposed to be the one I didn’t have to worry about,” Fenric said, not with anger now, but something close to hurt. “The one I could count on.”

  Garrick didn’t know what to say to that. Fenric sighed. He stood now, bearing down with his full presence. Garrick could feel his chest tightening and his head bowed even further at his next words.

  “You’re not wrong. I shouldn’t have trusted this to you. But this is as much my fault as it is yours. You’ve been fighting this war for two years. You’re right - you have been too close to this. God, Garrick.” Fenric stood now, the full presence of a king bearing down on his high commander. “You of all people should know. Wars aren’t won by one man’s strength. They’re won by armies. And you’ve led one long enough to know the difference.”

  The silence that followed wasn’t sharp but heavy, muted by the knowledge that he was right.

  After a long moment, Fenric sighed and slowly returned to his seat. “So. Is there still value in this mission? Or should we end it now?”

  Garrick didn’t hesitate. “There is value. I believe that.”

  “Even now?”

  “Especially now,” Garrick said. “We’ve seen more in this creature than we ever expected. And if there’s even a chance—any chance at all—that he can be something else, then we owe it to Adern to see it through. On a tighter leash. With better oversight. But we keep going.”

  Fenric studied him, then nodded once.

  “I agree,” he said. “But you don’t walk away from this unscathed.”

  “Understood, your majesty.”

  “You’ll be assigned two additional knight units. New blood. I expect you to train them as you did the Second Order. If your men are too burned out to maintain stability, then it’s on us to reinforce the structure. But it also means giving up the Second Order’s… exclusivity.”

  Garrick’s jaw tightened—but he nodded.

  “And,” Fenric continued, “you said you needed someone to manage day-to-day command while you coordinate with the crown. I’m loaning you Lyndon.”

  Garrick’s head rose. “Truly?”

  “He volunteered,” Fenric said. “Insisted, actually.”

  Veylan smiled faintly. “You should be flattered. Lyndon doesn’t volunteer for much these days. But he believes in you.”

  “I don’t know if I’ve earned that,” Garrick said.

  “Then consider this your chance to,” Fenric said. “You’ll give me regular updates. You’ll answer your letters. And if you feel the weight again—you speak up. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  Fenric nodded again, then finally leaned back, weariness returning to his shoulders. “Then we try again. But this time we will do it together.”

  He sighed again and gave Garrick a look that was more exasperated than stern. “Varne told me you were up late again. Burning the midnight oil with defensive stratagems for Rising City. Said you’ve barely slept. Are you trying to be a martyr or just a fool?”

  Garrick shifted, jaw tightening. “Trying to be useful.”

  “Mm. Fool, then,” Fenric said, standing and stretching. “You’re lucky I like you. If you weren’t already in trouble, I’d add another reprimand just for keeping Varne up past midnight. The man needs his rest.”

  Veylan snorted. “Varne and Garrick are the same age, you know. And I’m not far off. You’re the baby in the room, Fenric.”

  Fenric rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. I’m aware. It doesn’t stop Varne from groaning like a grandfather every time he sits down.”

  Garrick glanced over, a rare flicker of amusement in his eye. “You say that like I don’t do the same.”

  “And yet somehow Veylan remains pristine,” Fenric said, giving the mage a look.

  “Preservation spells,” Veylan replied smoothly. “Some of us like to maintain a little dignity.”

  For the first time, Garrick let a small, stiff laugh escape him. Veylan smiled. Fenric grinned, then patted Garrick once on the shoulder.

  “You’re not alone in this. Remember that. Even when you forget everything else.”

  And just like that, the weight didn’t vanish—but it loosened. Enough for Garrick to breathe again.