The Beginning After The End

Chapter 451: Changes II

Just now

ARTHUR LEYWIN

As I led Sylvie and Caera back into the throne room for what felt like the tenth time over the last two days, I couldn’t help the flash of annoyance that passed through me.

Edirith and two other young dragons were already there, but Charon and Windsom hadn’t arrived yet. I could tell by Edirith’s somewhat bored expression that their search had, yet again, been fruitless.

The other Wraiths, which, if Sylvie’s vision had been correct, included at least the remains of two battle groups, had melted away entirely.

‘It seems unlikely that they’ve simply given up and gone home,’ Sylvie projected into my thoughts. ‘They are certainly out there biding their time, even if we’ve delayed their attack against Charon and Etistin.’

Charon had assigned three dragons to help search Etistin and the surrounding area. He hadn’t actively hampered my work in any way, but he’d made precious little time for a joint strategic conference and outright refused to allocate more resources to the effort.

‘It’s almost like they want the Wraiths to attack,’ Regis mused. ‘Like they’re baiting them out or something.’

Sylvie shook her head as she scanned the faces of the other dragons with care. ‘No, I think they genuinely believe that the threat is minimal. That their very presence will prevent it. They aren’t stupid, they understand their orders and the danger presented, but they can’t accept that danger as real. A lifetime of roosting atop the very peak of power and authority in Epheotus has convinced them that they’ll be victorious no matter what happens.’

“You’re all talking in your heads again, aren’t you?” Caera said, her voice low, as she paced at my side.

I blanched, giving her a guilty look. “Sorry, force of habit.”

Caera waved off the apology, her gaze drifting to the three dragons. “I imagine I’ll get used to it if you keep me around long enough.”

“I don’t want you to feel unwelcome,” I answered quickly. “I only keep asking if you’d like to return to the Alacryan camps because”—my eyes flicked to the dragons—“I know you haven’t had the best experience with them so far.”

Caera gave me a wry smile. “I’ve been sent here by Lady Seris as a representative, so putting my personal experience aside, I’ll stay to fulfill that duty.”

We slipped back into a strained quiet until Charon arrived a few minutes later, strolling into the throne room as casually as if he were out for a leisurely afternoon walk. Curtis Glayder was kept pace at his side and gave me a familiar, although not particularly friendly, wave when he saw me waiting.

“Still no sign of any more Wraith activity,” Edirith confirmed to Charon promptly, snapping to attention. “With all due respect, sir, I think we’re wasting our time.”

Charon stopped and smiled, his hands clasped behind his back. He nodded as if he’d expected this news. “It seems your execution of their scout has ended this threat, Arthur. You’ve scoured half of Sapin by now. With the element of surprise no longer working in their benefit, I think it’s safe to say that the Wraiths have called off this attack.”

“We can’t know that, but…” I let out a breath, expelling some of my frustration with it, “perhaps you’re right.”

That, of course, was the problem with visions of the future. Elder Rinia had tried her best to drill the fact into my head that reacting to her visions, changing what they foretold, carried with it its own inherent dangers.

“Besides, the search has started to draw attention from the population,” Curtis chimed in. “People have noticed your presence, Arthur, and it is generating all sorts of worrying rumors after the explosion outside the city.”

I glanced at Curtis, remembering the vision. Watching the Glayders deaths had pushed me to act rashly, but I didn’t regret it. With no way to know when the attack was going to happen, delaying risked allowing that future to become a reality. On the other hand, lying in wait to spring some trap could have cost me days, even weeks, of valuable time. Once I’d actually discovered the Wraith scout, it was too late to do anything but give chase.

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ Sylvie thought. ‘Hindsight may be perfect, but even visions can’t help us see all outcomes.’

‘Ah, well, you know what they say: the soldier who never makes mistakes takes his orders from someone who does,’ Regis added.

I’m not sure how that’s applicable, I thought back.

Regis swirled around my core, his incorporeal form humming with amusement. ‘Nothing, really, I just wanted to feel included since we’re doling out little wisdoms, y’know?’

I repressed the building sigh and turned my attention back to Charon.

“Now, Arthur, I had hoped we might have some time to speak privately. You’ve kept yourselves so busy, I’ve barely had any time at all to speak with my cousin.” Charon lifted a hand as I began to counter, stopping me. “I won’t withdraw the extra dragons I’ve brought to Etistin just yet, but I think the city can live without you and Sylvie for a few hours.”

In the end, all I could do was agree.

Edirith was sent back to his duties, and Curtis bid us all farewell as he hurried off to some other meeting.

Offering his arm to Sylvie, Charon led the way, effortlessly making meaningless chatter about the state of the city and the continent, what he thought of everything from the people to the food, and other such gossip.

The drawing room he led us to was unnecessarily opulent, clearly a holdover from a time before the war. The defensive structure of the city and palace was momentarily left behind as we entered the white and gold chamber, all smooth lines and extravagance. The furniture looked as if it had rarely been used, the plush rugs were as bright as if they’d been woven that very morning, and even though a large open fireplace burned merrily, there wasn’t a smudge of dirt or ash on the white surfaces.

Windsom stood with his back to the fireplace, watching quietly as we entered. He had given up on attempting to force Sylvie’s immediate return to Epheotus, but I was certain he had already reached out to his master for instructions. If Kezess attempted to force the issue…

Well, I wasn’t exactly sure what I would do yet.

I still hadn’t gotten a read on Charon, who was either reasonable or just more patient and less obvious in his manipulation than Windsom. Not being certain made me more wary of the scarred dragon than of a blowhard like Vajrakor, and yet he made a potentially interesting ally.

If he is driven by something other than blind loyalty to Kezess, we could gain a lot by working alongside him, I thought, looking at his back.

Loyalty was already proving to be a difficult problem to navigate. In particular, Kathyln and Curtis Glayder occupied a worrying position. Specifically, I was uncomfortable with just how close they already seemed to Charon and his soldiers.

‘Already?’ Sylvie sent, responding to my thoughts. ‘Remember, it’s been months for them, and the dragons’ powers of persuasion are far more potent than most humans can handle.’

‘They do seem problematically smitten,’ Regis added in reference to the Glayders.

We’ll see, I sent back.

“Lady Sylvie, I apologize that this Wraith situation has delayed our chance to converse properly,” Charon said as he closed the drawing room door behind us. “I’ve looked forward to an opportunity to meet you again since learning of your survival. You are looked at as a bit of an enigma among the clan…and that was before recent events.”

I let Sylvie take the lead in the conversation. I knew I had been pushing back too hard these past few days, trying to force equilibrium between myself and the dragons. Sylvie was better positioned to speak on equal footing, capitalizing on her relationship with Kezess, but only if I held myself in check. The link between our minds allowed us to speak as one when necessary, feeding off each other’s knowledge with each response.

“That was made pretty clear to me when Arthur and I trained in Epheotus,” Sylvie said lightly as she moved around the room and admired the decor. “Kezess insulated me from much of it to keep me focused on the training, but I didn’t miss the stares and whispers. A mixed lineage—dragon and basilisk—born outside of Epheotus and bonded with a human? I am an oddity that has never even been imagined in Epheotus, or so I was told.”

Charon’s smile was warm if slightly chagrined. “True, if perhaps not a polite way to phrase things. There were many among the clan that resented Lord Indrath’s tight grip on you. I think you would have found your clan quite receptive to your presence, had it been allowed. Still, in the end, it only enhanced your mystique.” He chuckled airily, then sobered. “When it was learned that you had…passed, well. It was quite a blow to the Indrath clan.”

I listened intently, absorbed in their conversation. I hadn’t given much consideration to what the other dragons must have thought of Sylvie. She was my bond first and foremost. In my head, her mixed lineage and being granddaughter of the most powerful asura in Epheotus was always a distant afterthought.

“As you can see, the rumors of my death were clearly exaggerated,” Sylvie said, a note of humor in her tone despite her thoughts pulling away from considering what had happened after she sacrificed herself for me. “I do…appreciate what you’ve said though. I hadn’t given much thought to my relationship with the rest of the clan, if I’m being honest.” She leaned against the back of a couch and shot me a look. “We’ve been pretty busy fighting a war.”

Charon cleared his throat. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have much to talk about, and there is no need to be so formal while doing so.” Leading by example, Charon moved to a high-backed chair with golden leaves embroidered up and down the arms.

Caera sat stiffly at the far end of the couch, away from Charon, and Sylvie moved around it to sit next to her, using her own body like a shield. I sensed Caera relax immediately, and had to appreciate my bond’s social grace.

Regis chose that moment to manifest, appearing from the soft shadows around my feet. He went to Caera and sat at her other side at the edge of the couch. Not being able to help himself, he turned and shot a glare at Windsom before settling in menacingly.

Windsom, who stayed by the fire, pretended not to notice.

Charon inspected Regis thoughtfully. “Sentient acclorite born of aether,” he mused. “The three of you are just as unique individually as in a group, aren’t you?”

“So, have you thought of proper contingencies regarding the Wraiths?” I asked, sitting on the edge of a plush chaise lounge. “Even if they’ve retreated from Etistin and called off their attack on you, they’re certainly still in Dicathen.” Considering my words carefully, I added, “Who knows how many. Certainly more than a single battle group.”

Charon seemed to mull over his answer before finally saying, “If the Wraiths attack me, or the other guardians, directly, I am confident we will be able to defend ourselves.” Seeing the apprehensive look on my face, he continued, “I understand that Agrona bills these Wraiths as his ‘asura-killers,’ and no doubt they are capable by lessuran standards. But I assure you, I am not the prey they were bred to hunt.”

“And the dragons out on patrol?” I asked, crossing my arms. “How many do you even have? It doesn’t seem like Kezess sent many of you. Are you willing to let your own people be picked off one by one?”

Charon nodded slightly as I spoke. “I do appreciate the danger there, and I will adjust the patrols to ensure my kin move in pairs. Should the need arise, they can retreat and call for additional reinforcements.” He cocked his head slightly. “Does that satisfy you?”

Caera leaned forward on her elbows, her ruby eyes intent on the dragon. “What about the people of this land? What’s to stop the Wraiths from launching hit-and-run strikes across Dicathen to sow discord and chaos? Or, lest we forget why we’re really here, attacking the Alacryans consigned to the wasteland beyond the mountains? Seris still needs the dragons’ aid to ensure the Alacryan encampments are defended.”

Charon’s brows rose, and a wry smile turned up the corner of his scarred mouth. “Spoken like a true Alacryan. And perhaps what you suggest is a possibility, although Agrona has never used his most potent tools for such menial labor before. As for civilian deaths…Lord Indrath’s orders are to prevent Agrona’s forces from destabilizing or destroying this continent. The emphasis of our protection remains on the largest, most influential cities, and the nobility that rules them. It was never part of his agreement that we would attempt to protect every single Dicathian life.”

“Oh, come on,” I said, leaning forward and twining my fingers together. “You have taken pains to involve yourself with the Dicathian public. All I asked was that Kezess help me protect this continent, and you could have done that from behind the scenes, but you’ve chosen to work directly with the people, building relationships and trust.” I paused for a moment, then took a risk. “You’re clearly pushing to turn public perception away from me and toward the dragons and your allies—such as the Glayders. If you allow Wraiths to roam freely and attack the continent, what will happen to the good will you’ve been trying to foster?”

This question gave him pause, and Charon didn’t answer right away, so Windsom stepped in on his behalf. “I have guided the people of Dicathen for generation after generation. Always, we have sought to ensure that they were on equal footing with Agrona’s people. That’s what we’re still trying to do.”

I looked over Caera and Sylvie to match gazes with Windsom. “You concentrated power in a few families that you could control and handicapped our growth through the Lance artifacts. But then, you did so silently. This playing for public perception is new. What are you getting out of it? Surely it’s more than the old stories of deities gaining power through the belief of their subjects,” I added, my tone biting but amused.

“Nothing so crass,” Charon interjected, giving me a tight-lipped smile. “But it is important that the Dicathians have hope. What good would it be for us to keep them safe if they themselves have succumbed to the bitter darkness of living without belief in their own future? As for your popularity…” His smile tightened yet further, looking almost pained. “Kezess rightly saw that split loyalty between you as this deified protector and my kin would potentially engender hostility between Dicathians. We have attempted to mute this by reinforcing the leadership of people like the Glayder siblings.”

I nodded along, not buying a word of what Charon said. His excuse was as well-spoken and sensible as it was complete bullshit, but I felt no desire to fight him on the subject.

My motivations to grow stronger had never included the adoration of Dicathen’s populace, and I’d actively pushed back against the “deification” that Charon mentioned.

“Regardless,” Caera inserted into the brief moment of silence following Charon’s speech, “your lord’s strategy seems to rely on your mere presence being a deterrent, but what we’ve learned proves that strategy has already failed. We’ve been here for over two days, and you still haven’t explained what you’re going to do to help protect the Alacrya refugees in Elenoir.”

Windsom scoffed, but Charon was more reserved in his response, saying only, “You are right.” We waited for him to continue, but he didn’t seem intent on adding anything.

Through the silence that followed, I felt multiple mana signatures moving purposefully toward the drawing room. Charon and Windsom had already noticed as well, and Windsom moved toward the door.

“In here?” a richly feminine voice said, pitchy with panic, and the drawing room door flew inward.

Lyra Dreide regarded me with red-rimmed eyes, her shoulders rising and falling with each barely controlled breath. She took a couple halting steps into the chamber, her feet dragging across the marble. She was clearly exhausted, her mana signature weak.

I pushed myself out of my seat. “What happened?”

She opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat and she looked away.

Kathyln was standing uncertainly in the hall behind her. “She flew in, claiming it was urgent—”

“We are in a meeting,” Windsom scoffed, glaring at Kathyln, who shrank back. “Why have you allowed this Vritra pawn so deep within the palace?”

“Peace,” Charon said softly. “There has been an attack, hasn’t there?” His gaze flicked to me just as mine went to him, our eyes connected for the briefest instant.

“The Wraiths…” I said, the words almost a groan as they escaped my lips.

Lyra shook her head, then nodded. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her teeth bared in an animalistic snarl. Words strained through those clenched teeth she said, “Oludari and the Wraiths…”

I felt my brows pinch together in confusion. “Olu…dari?”

“One of Agrona’s Sovereigns,” Caera said. Her face was pale, her red eyes locked on Lyra as she half stood, then slowly sank back down onto the couch, her hands going to her face.

“There was a Sovereign here in Dicathen?” I felt out of sorts, like I was missing some important context of this conversation. “Lyra, I need you to focus. Tell me what happened. Please,” I added more softly.

Charon moved to a low shelf along one wall where a few bottles and glasses rested. He poured a glass full of red liquid and held it out for Lyra.

It took her a moment to notice, but when she did her nose wrinkled in apparent disgust. Her hand flinched toward the glass, and for a moment I thought she was going to knock it out of Charon’s hand, but she seemed to realize what she was doing and pulled back again.

Swallowing heavily, she looked past the dragon and focused on me. “I apologize, Regent. This wasn’t how…it hasn’t been…”

She took a deep breath and stood up straighter. Charon slowly lowered the glass and took a step back to give her some space.

“Sovereign Oludari of Truaci arrived at one of the encampments, desperate for protection. He seemed to believe…his begging was difficult to make sense of, but he was terrified of Agrona, implied that the High Sovereign was behind the death of Sovereign Exeges and would be coming for him as well.”

My confusion only deepened as she spoke. “Why would Agrona be killing off his own allies? Especially his most powerful ones?” I looked at Charon and Windsom for support.

The two dragons exchanged an unreadable look, some hidden thought passing between them. “I can’t be certain,” Charon said after a moment, “but the basilisks have never been loyal. Not to themselves or the other asura.”

“He was babbling, said something about…about his work being unfinished.” Lyra’s brows knitted as she concentrated. “He said there were ‘layers to the world,’ and that he had ‘felt the rising surface tension of a bubble ready to burst—’”

“The ravings of a paranoid lunatic,” Windsom said, waving away Lyra’s words. “It offers no hint of why Agrona might be hunting him. Perhaps he was mistaken? If he is the last of the Sovereigns, seeing the others fall one by one likely drove him to desperate madness.”

Some small fact that I had read long ago jumped to the forefront of my mind. “The last? Aren’t there five, and then the High Sovereign himself?”

It was Caera who answered. “Sovereign Khaernos hasn’t been seen publicly in decades. He’s sometimes impolitely referred to as the Invisible Sovereign…”

“We believe he is dead,” Windsom said indifferently. “Perhaps he was the first victim of Agrona’s fratricide. I don’t know or particularly care.”

The chamber went silent for a moment, and then Lyra continued her story, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. “The Wraiths were not far behind Oludari. Four of them. They fought…the village, destroyed…so many people dead.” Lyra’s gaze, which had drifted to the floor, snapped up and burrowed into me, desperation written in the lines of her face. “You, Arthur. They blamed you. Said that…”

“They were there because I diverted the attack on Etistin,” I finished for her.

She nodded. Finally, she moved, half stumbling toward the nearest chair before slumping into it, her face in her hands. “They defeated him, took him away. And they gave Seris a warning.”

Charon’s expression intensified. “What warning?”

“That—” Lyra ground her teeth together, cutting herself off. Glancing from me to Charon, she licked her lips and started again. “That this wasn’t over. They left us alive because…because Agrona wanted to kill us himself.”

My eyes narrowed as I regarded her. She was lying, I was almost certain of it, but not to me. She doesn’t want the dragons to know what the Wraiths really said.

‘Which likely means it is something that would endanger their continued protection of the Alacryans,’ Sylvie added.

‘For all the good that protection seems to be doing for them,’ Regis chimed in.

“There is more,” Lyra continued, withdrawing something from her dimension device. She held it out to me. “Seris told me to bring it to you immediately.”

I carefully lifted a small disc from her hand. Judging by the silky texture and the off-white coloration, I was confident it was carved of bone. A blood-stained rune had been etched into its surface, and it emanated a potent mana signature.

Focusing on the mana, I probed it with my aether. Immediately, another source of mana resonated with it from a long way away, ringing like a distant bell. Oludari…

‘It’s carved from his bone,’ Regis informed me, sniffing the disc in my hand.

“Did Seris know what this artifact is?” I asked Lyra. She nodded.

I ran the pad of my thumb across the smooth surface, tracing the ridges where the rune was etched.

Caera, who had waited and watched, still as stone as she listened to the retainer’s explanation, took a shaky breath. “Is my blood alive?”

Lyra looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I don’t know.”

“Arthur, we need to return to the Alacryan villages. I…” She paused as if considering her words, almost looking surprised at her own thoughts. “I need to make sure Corbett, Lenora, and the others are safe.”

“Give Lyra a moment to rest, and she will take you.”

Caera gave me a strange, crestfallen look but quickly covered it up. “Of course.”

To Charon, I said, “Those Alacryans need help. I understand your hesitation, but an attack is no longer some hypothetical situation we’re discussing. They laid down their arms, made homes on Dicathian soil, and risked Agrona’s wrath.”

Charon eyed me uncertainly.

“Are you worried about the danger they pose?” I asked more forcefully. “Then consider just how much more dangerous they become if they’re forced to turn back to Agrona because we abandoned them on our own shores.”

Charon’s eyes hardened, and through the scars I suddenly saw his resemblance to Kezess. “Alternatively, what would happen if we proactively eradicated the potential risk that these refugees pose and be done with it.”

Caera’s and Lyra’s heads both snapped around, their faces going pale.

“General Aldir followed Kezess’s orders to shed innocent blood as well,” I said, speaking slowly and letting the words hang in the air.

“How dare you…” Windsom’s intent flared, knocking the wind out of Caera and Lyra.

Regis and Sylvie remained deathly still and calm, their outward demeanor unaffected.

Charon gestured Windsom for calm, then sighed and nodded. “I will send two dragons and adjust the patrol routes through the Beast Glades. But we will be watching these ‘refugees’ just as much as we are protecting them.”

I held out my hand, and he took it firmly. “See that Lyra Dreide and Caera get there safely as well, would you?” In my head, I continued, sending instructions to Sylvie as well.

Charon nodded again then released my grip. “And what exactly will you be doing, Arthur?”

Turning toward the door, I again pinged the artifact, gauging the location of the distant ringing response. “It’s what we will be doing, Guardian.”