Chapter II

  “Hey? What’s that in the distance?”

  Frowning at the sound of his friend’s voice, Noah Kilarren glanced up and gazed in the direction the man was indicating. They had been sent out by their master at the blacksmith’s to retrieve lunch from the market, and once they acquired the bread and cheese he requested, the pair turned and began to head back when Pirak spoke.

  The town square of the small northern town, Ildara, where the market was located, had four large roads leading in each cardinal direction, which then merged with the highways surrounding the town. The square was at the very heart of Ildara and was roughly one hundred yards in diameter, with a large rectangular platform at the very center where, on special occasions, traveling bands may play music or the local politicians would hold community-wide meetings to discuss how best to improve the lives of Ildara’s residents. Then, in recent days, it had been where the pastors of the Kosah-Rei would come to preach about their movement—a rather bold idea in Noah’s eyes given that it would only take one snitch to bring Ijirian wrath down upon them for embracing a group long-ago declared a terrorist sect.

  But then again, maybe it’d be worth it, Noah always concluded. Every time people are punished for embracing the Ko-hahn’s teachings, it emboldens others to continue their fight against the oppression of the Iijis. If becoming a scapegoat is what it takes to rile people up who may not have risen otherwise, then so fucking be it.

  He knew there were a few pastors still in town right then, with Pastor Fillip Jirio having been in Ildara for around a year as of the past month and was as much a member of the community as some of the natives. The man gave them advice, financial aid, and even once brought Rotana Vesh himself to give a sermon—a momentous day that everybody in town still talked of. The Kosah-Rei were saviors to the common Ijirian, and whether the government wanted to admit it or not, their victory was inevitable. The fact that not a single member of their one-thousand person population had sold the pastors out despite the large reward sum offered by the Citadel was more than enough to prove that fact to Noah. A true Age of Prosperity was upon them, and unlike the current lie, it would be a country where everybody was equal and could live in happiness—where they could learn magic at their leisure and power was available to all who would work hard enough to attain it.

  These were the beliefs of Noah Killaren, of his family, of his friends, and of his fellow townsfolk, so when he turned his eyes towards the square’s northern road and saw a massive company marching towards them, bearing the flag of the Iijis, his throat tightened and it felt like his heart had stopped. Seconds ago, the square was bustling with laughter and chatter, but as everybody else noticed the approach, they fell silent one-by-one until a pin drop could have been heard. It was one thing for a company of Citadel soldiers this large to be in Ildara, but even more horrifying than that was the large, emerald-haired man riding at the vanguard, a glittering golden crown mounted atop his head and the smile of a devil twisting his bearded face as he scanned the crowd. The King raised his hand once they had reached the rectangular podium in the center, a signal for the party to come to a stop.

  “No fucking way,” Pirak breathed at Noah’s side, his skin pale as he regarded the monster and his steed. “Is that King Markreas?”

  Noah swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-it certainly looks like him given what I’ve heard… But if the King is here, then did somebody actually sell us out?”

  “N-no c-clue…” His friend shook his head as his body trembled. “Noah, this is bad… This is very bad…”

  “Tell me about it, mate…”

  Subtly turning his head, Noah scanned the roughly two-hundred people now watching Markreas, hoping to spot Pastor Jirio, who he had noticed chatting with a few friends not long ago. That man was always garbed in the long red robes that marked him as Rei’s pastor, so if he was spotted by Markreas or any of the other mages accompanying him, then he would be executed on the spot and without a second’s hesitation. Fortunately, Noah could not find him, so he prayed with all his heart that the man fled the second he recognized Markreas’s emerald hair.

  Be safe, Pastor… Noah thought before turning his eyes towards the rest of

  Markreas’s company. Red and black armor… These are Korrei-Tarr… And then, behind them, with the black and white, as well as that banner… Some of these warriors are from Noctalus, too… What in the hell is going on? Why did King Markreas bring a force this large to our quaint little town… Don’t tell me, he…plans to slaughter everybody?

  As he was pondering this, Markreas dismounted his horse and walked up the three steps to the podium before turning back and gazing at the crowd of people observing him. Noah wondered what faces he was seeing, for there was not a soul in that square who felt anything but unbridled hatred for Markreas Iiji. Could everybody mask such intense feelings? Or was the King of Ijiria silently noting those who glared upon him defiantly? Noah wasn’t even certain he was hiding his own emotions effectively.

  “Good afternoon, citizens of Ildara,” Markreas began a moment later. “As this visit was unannounced, I shall forgive your disrespect and excuse it as being due to your surprise. However, I will remind you that it is customary to kneel before your king.”

  That seemed to snap many out of their heads, for roughly three-quarters of the crowd frantically dropped to their knees and bowed, Noah and Pirak among them, though the former had to choke down his pride and tap into a sense-of-control he didn’t even realize he had. But of course, there were those who could not do so, who couldn’t bring themselves to lower their heads to a man like him, and this was obviously displeasing to the King.

  “I SAID KNEEL!” Markreas roared, blue fire surging around his arms in a silent threat that resulted in the last of the crowd obeying. With everybody outside of his company now on their knees, Markreas let out a gruff chuckle then said, “Good. That’s more like it. I’m sure you’re wondering why I have wasted my time stepping foot in this nasty place you call your home, so let me enlighten you treacherous vermin. I’m well aware of your loyalty to the cult of the Kosah-Rei and their imaginary friend.”

  As Noah was internally seething at the King daring to refer to their home as nasty, his body froze when Markreas referenced the cult, confirming his worst suspicions. He and Pirak risked a glance at one another, a silent terror passing between them that chilled them to the bone. He was certain this was a common experience among their people, but nobody would dare speak at that moment, so Markreas continued his speech uninhibited.

  “Yes… I can sense your fear,” he growled. “I’ll have you know, your town was out of our way, but I felt it appropriate to pay you a visit while I was personally nearby. You should be grateful that I am a merciful man, or else I may have ordered my company of Masters to put you all to the sword. You would welcome Rei’s pastors into your homes after their atrocities in Hiriech and Stellareid… You would prostrate yourself before an entity in the sky like the primitive humans of old? You would plant your flags beside a cult while claiming to be righteous? You’re all a bunch of ungrateful little shits…”

  Deep breaths, Noah… Take deep breaths… Don’t let his words get to you… There’s nothing you can do to him… You’re powerless, so there’s no reason to just throw yourself at him and give him the satisfaction he desires…

  “But you must be curious why I refrain from harming you,” Markreas went on. “Well, as it turns out, there’s no reason to care about you anymore. Master Cartus, bring forth the cart.”

  At the King’s beckoning, a large wagon that had been positioned in the back of the company, out of Noah's sight, began to roll forward alongside a large woman in a thick fur coat that, according to what Markreas said, was the Master of Rock, Sinna Cartus. Normally, the realization that a Master of Ijiria truly was present would have rattled him to his core, but he was not given the chance to process Sinna before the wagon became more visible and the young man was able to see what was on it.

  There was a large wooden post protruding from the very center of the wagon’s bed, and tied to this post was a naked man with shoulder-length brown hair, a beard the same color, and his left arm completely burned off, the stump of his elbow blackened and deformed. The man was trembling, either from the cold of the northern summer or from his pain, and his brown eyes were glazed over, as if he was hardly processing what was happening. The only solace Noah could take in his appearance was that he was, in fact, still alive, for the same could not be said of the three severed heads all atop their own pikes that had been placed right on the front edge of the wagon’s bed. All three were men, with the first head sporting a white beard and mustache cut into mutton-chops. The second was covered in dry blood, with curly hair a color that was no longer identifiable and a gaunt face with a pointed chin. Those two were sickening enough, but when Noah realized he recognized the third head, he felt as if every scrap of hope within him vanished.

  Is that…Rotana Vesh?

  “I present to you the trophies of our most recent battle!” Markreas declared with glee. “Let this pretty little town be the first to know that Rotana Vesh is dead! As of three days ago, the home of the Kosah-Rei was assaulted and its leaders executed for their crimes! And in case you were curious, that handsome devil wriggling on the post is none other than Rickori Keskivaara, the so-called People’s Mind… Gaze upon him as an example of what will become of you should you ever turn against the crown.”

  That’s…not possible… Rotana Vesh is dead? The Kosah-Rei are gone? But that can’t be! Vesh was Rei’s hand-picked saint—the one who would lead us all to Her utopia! There’s no way Markreas could have won… And Keskivaara…?

  However, Noah could not deny what he was witnessing with his own eyes. He recalled the extravagant and inspiring way Vesh had addressed them in the very spot Markreas now stood. He was charismatic and empathetic—a true man of the people, but now, his eyes were lifeless, his jaw hung limp, and the paleness of death had creeped into his skin.

  “My children of Ildara! Know that while King Markreas and the Citadel may have abandoned you, may have forgotten you, the Goddess Rei never will! She will always have you in Her heart so long as you welcome Her into yours. My allies and I shall fight on your behalf, shall bring you to a world where you will be loved, where you can do what you want to do, and where you’ll always know the people in power will be there when you need them. That is my promise, but it is also Rei’s promise!”

  Saint Vesh… Noah clenched his teeth, his fury surging through his body as he recalled Vesh’s words. How could they do this to you?

  “Spread this news far and wide!” Markreas shouted. “Let the whole of the North know that the Kosah-Rei’s uprising is over! This is not your empire! It is my empire, so do not forget that! The next time you think about opposing me, or supporting those that do, recall these heads and recall dear Keskivaara… Perhaps then you’ll think twice…”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Your Majesty! We’ve got him!”

  There was a call from within the crowd, and as Noah’s head snapped in the direction it came from, the situation only deteriorated further as two of the Korrei-Tarr dragged Pastor Jirio towards the looming man above. Jirio didn’t speak nor did he struggle as they pulled him up the stairs and pushed him to his knees a few feet to Markreas’s right. Loud murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave, and there was a sense that everybody wanted to intervene but nobody had the strength or courage to do so.

  No, no, no, no…

  “Pastor Fillip Jirio, yes?” the King rumbled.

  Jirio smiled up at him, then responded in a calm tone, “I’m honored you know my name.”

  “As I said, Ildara’s been on our watchlist for a while now… Why didn’t you flee the square? Why remain behind when you bear such damning evidence of treason on your body?”

  “Because unlike you, I do not abandon my people.”

  Jirio’s response was so blunt that Noah’s chest tightened with fear at the near-certain rage that would envelop Markreas, but the King seemed hardly bothered by the oppositional words of the pastor. Instead, he just smirked with amusement.

  “Then you shall die a fool.”

  “No, Your Majesty… I shall die with my honor and pride intact. Can you say the same?”

  Markreas cocked an eyebrow, though it seemed less in consideration of what Jirio said and perhaps more in regards to how to kill him. He reached his conclusion swiftly, and with speed unbefitting his size, he yanked his broadsword from its sheath and decapitated Jirio in one powerful swing that splattered blood onto the podium and resulted in the shrieking of some members of the crowd. Just like that, a man everybody loved was struck down by one they all hated more than anybody else. Jirio dedicated his life to them, refused to leave them when he could have, and would die a hero that Ildara should never allow themselves to forget.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Why should such an amazing man die while that vile creature calling himself “King” got to live with power unlike anything an average Ijirian would ever know. Noah was livid, and suddenly, he found himself understanding Jirio’s mindset. That was why he bolted to his feet and shouted,

  “It won’t end!”

  Silence descended over the square yet again, and as all eyes turned towards Noah Kilarren, he felt strangely at ease despite understanding deep in his heart that his life was now slipping away. Nevertheless, there was something he wanted to say, so he would be damned if he didn’t get it out before Markreas executed him, too.

  “There’s nothing you can do, you stupid son of a bitch!” Noah roared. “You may have butchered the Kosah-Rei, but you have not erased their ideals! What their rebellion revealed is that nobody actually likes you! Nobody respects you, nobody considers your rule to be worth anything! You are followed because we have no choice, but when a choice was given, have you noticed how many of your people sided against you?! You are nothing, Markreas, and a fire has been lit under us! The Kosah-Rei’s message shall not be forgotten! It shall not die, and there is nothing you can—”

  ***

  All around them, the sprawling green of the northern countryside passed by, and drawing ever closer was the edge of the Akki Forest, which was the final obstacle between them and home. But as Rennigan Glaus stared out into the distance, he did not see the beauty of nature nor the glittering and warm sun above, rather his mind’s eye kept replaying the declaration of that pastor, as well as Markreas’s blade of wind slicing that poor young man in half. He understood the King’s hatred for the cult, and he understood why he’d be so angry at a town that had become decently well-known for heavily supporting them, but in Rennigan’s opinion, they had gone way too far.

  The water mage swallowed his disgust as he spared a reluctant glance at the cart riding beside him, one they had poached from Ankalla, only to find a large crow perched atop Quill’s head, ripping at the flesh on his cheeks before swallowing it. The heads were beginning to rot and smell, leaving Rennigan wishing he could be anywhere else in the line of soldiers, but since Sinna and Nyx were assigned to guard Keskivaara’s transport, Rennigan was also stuck there. He wished Markreas had just ordered the heads burned, for as much as he loathed the cult, and Quill in particular, marching around with them as trophies was just wrong.

  I’m going to be sick… I want to be anywhere else… I don’t want to be here, with these people… I don’t want to be associated with this parade of blood… I’m going to throw up… I’m going to throw up… I’m going to throw—

  “R-Rennigan, are you okay?”

  He exhaled sharply at the gentle voice that spoke to him, terror racketing through him and preventing him from so much as turning his head to where she rode right beside him. In his periphery, all he saw was her legs. Her voice, which was once comforting and sweet, now sent shivers down his back as he remembered what it said to him.

  “Can you die for me? That other woman was too hard for even my teeth to break though, but you look soft. You look yummy… I’m so very hungry, and I remember you, too… The apprentice boy… Glaus... Please let me eat you, Glaus…”

  “I-I’m fine, Master Rana,” he choked out. “Just exhausted, is all… Don’t worry…about me…”

  “Rennigan—”

  “I SAID I’M FINE!” he snarled, his body violently shaking as he desperately wanted to kick his horse and speed up, to put as much distance between them as possible, or to tell somebody what had happened—to beg for protection.

  But not even that was an option, for who could protect him from either of them?

  “If you tell a soul what you saw here today, I will destroy everything you love. I will kill you, Kloras, your mother, your damn maid, Caeli, and anybody else in my way. I will drag everything down with me… So keep your fucking mouth closed, Rennigan Glaus.”

  “I’m not…” he stammered, swiftly regretting shouting at her, knowing that it must have drawn attention from anybody nearby and may infuriate the Master’s personal bodyguard. “I’m sorry, but please go away… I’m not going to tell anybody, so don’t worry about me… You have my word, Master Rana…”

  “I understand… I trust you…and I’m so sorry…”

  With that soft utterance, Nyx pulled away from him and left Rennigan riding on his own, wondering where his triumphant feelings were. The Battle of Ankalla ended in their favor, he personally executed Quill Tyrus, the threat of the Kosah-Rei was gone, and he would now return to Erika as a hero and the soon-to-be-dubbed Apprentice of Water. He had avenged Faye, Hiro, and Jessi like he always dreamed of doing, ending a three and a half year-long quest, and he would be making his father proud in the process. Everything was working out in Rennigan’s favor, yet it felt like nothing was.

  I don’t want to be her apprentice… I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing. I don’t want to see it again… I hear its voice in my nightmares, I feel the cold in my bones… And, on top of it all, the sight of Sinna Cartus bearing down on me just makes it all worse. Who’s to say she won’t try to kill me again? Who’s to say I’m in the clear? I’m terrified, and now, after seeing what Markreas is doing, I just feel like I’m going to be sick… Why did I tell Faye I would live for her? I don’t want to live… I just want to curl up in a ball and die… Maybe…I should have let Cartus finish me off…as unfair as it would have been…

  “H-hey, Glaus? You have a moment?”

  Rennigan weakly raised his head, finding Ryokumo Caeli riding in the spot Nyx had just been, a concerned expression on his features as he gazed at the water mage.

  “C-Caeli…? Er, um, sure… What do you want?”

  “Just to check on you, my friend…” Ryokumo replied hesitantly. “Liri and I heard you shout at Master Rana, and that seemed out of character, so I figured it might be best to come and chat… I mean…” He paused, as if considering how much of Rennigan’s business he wanted to pry into. “You’ve seemed a little off ever since Ankalla. Did something happen?”

  What he would have given to spill it all to Ryokumo right then and there, to confess what really happened between him, Sinna, and Nyx, but across the wagon on his right, he could feel the Master of Rock’s eyes boring into his head, so he tried his best to ignore her.

  “Can I ask you something?” he finally said, to which Ryokumo enthusiastically nodded.

  “Anything! Go right ahead!”

  “Right… Well…” Rennigan’s lips drew tight with uncertainty before continuing. “Do you feel fulfilled now that you’ve killed Vesh? Are you victorious? Are you satisfied? Or maybe more broadly, what do you feel?”

  Ryokumo frowned, as if wondering why Rennigan would ask what might have been an obvious question, before the wind mage raised his eyes and stared over at Vesh’s severed head. “I do feel satisfied, yes… After everybody he took from us, and after all the civilians he slaughtered in Stellareid, I am proud to declare to have personally served him his comeuppance.” Then, turning back to face Rennigan, he asked, “Do you not feel the same? After all the effort put in, do you not feel magnificent to know Tyrus was killed by you—to know that the souls of your team can finally rest because of your actions?”

  Don’t I? he asked himself once more. Shouldn’t I? I think I did, at one point… When I watched his body explode, when I saw the Hall of Mirrors collapse, I felt ecstatic… I felt like I had finally freed myself from a never-ending torment… But now? Perhaps I’m not dissatisfied with my role in Quill Tyrus’s death, but perhaps I’m dissatisfied that I have already been thrown right back into hell… I was free for but a minute, and now death is looming over me…

  “If you want to make things fun, I guess I’ll have a go at it! Let’s see you squirm, little boy!”

  Another shiver rattled through the young man as the creature’s voice tore at his mind once more, and though he knew he shouldn’t, Rennigan couldn’t help but tilt his head to the right and gaze over the cart towards where Sinna and Nyx were riding side-by-side, talking softly to one another. For a brief second, the Master of Water’s silver eyes flickered towards him, but he swiftly turned back to regard Ryokumo, who was silently waiting for his response.

  “Y-yeah, I suppose I feel great… Tyrus is gone…” He laughed to himself, though it was a trembling, humorless sound that seemed to set his friend on edge. “Tyrus…is gone… And I’m…free? I’m free, aren't I?”

  “G-Glaus?” the wind mage pressed, his attention now briefly shifting to the Masters of Water and Rock with suspicion before he lowered his voice and asked, “What happened between you and Master Rana? Why did you shout at her?”

  He tensed, knowing he was being obvious, which only made him terrified for Ryokumo’s safety. “I was just tired, and I didn’t mean to shout… I already apologized, and she said it was fine, so there’s nothing to worry about…” He then forced a reassuring smile that was anything but. “You can go back to Ilirianna, if you’d like. You don’t have to worry about me, Caeli.”

  “No…” he stated immediately. “I won’t force you to tell me anything, but you look like you need some company, so I’ll ride with you a while. Okay?”

  “I—” Rennigan clamped his mouth shut when he failed to find anything but genuine concern and care in Ryokumo’s expression, so he just gave a weak nod and instead answered, “Alright… Yeah, that sounds nice, actually.”

  “Perfect…”

  For the rest of that day, Ryokumo and Rennigan rode side-by-side, and while they never talked, the water mage found himself feeling a bit safer with his friend at his side. Yet even so, that day’s events, and the events of the Battle of Ankalla, never left his head, and he was sure they wouldn’t for some time, leaving Rennigan wondering what he did to deserve such suffering.

  Then again, perhaps it’s punishment for lying to the Masters… If I’d told them the truth, if I’d given them Ms Jellia’s intel instead of trying to take Tyrus’s head myself, Master Rana wouldn't have died and I’d have never known her secret. Maybe it really is all my fault? I don’t know… I don't know what to think or feel…

  I’m just…

  Cold.