Chapter 54

Soldier On

Sylas returned to the castle without much fanfare. Even if there were some major signs of the battle—which undoubtedly there were—he was unable to notice them due to the still-blowing blizzard. There were at least two or three feet of snow on the unthreaded parts of the castle, and the winds only seemed to be picking up in speed rather than decreasing. Luckily, from his quick inspection, it didn’t seem as though anything exploded.

He didn't go to the frontlines—he couldn't risk randomly being hit by a stray arrow. It was a once-in-a-loop sort of a situation, where he had to prolong his life for as long as physically possible. Every change, no matter how minuscule, mattered now. Because of this, he hurried to his room inside the castle largely overtaken by darkness, and started working out.

There was no rhyme or reason to his workouts—largely because he never worked out in his life and didn’t know how efficient things were—but he just did. Push-ups, sit-ups, some flexibility, anything he could think of. He worked through the tiredness and pain, taking brief, few minutes long breaks, and only collapsing nearly two hours later, utterly exhausted.

He sipped himself some water and heated up some stew, refreshing his state before, once again, beginning the workout. At some point, the doors to the room opened up and Valen walked in. The young man's face was pale—but judging from his expression it was likely due to the belting of the blizzard for hours on end—and he appeared exhausted. Sylas quickly went over and started heating up some soup for the young man as the latter changed from the wet clothes, sitting down near the hearth, trying to warm himself up.

“You disappeared,” Valen said.

“Aye,” Sylas nodded. “Had something to take care of.”

“The gates were opened from the inside,” the Prince said. “Do you know who did it?”

“Hm,” Sylas nodded.

“Did you know?” Valen asked with the implications.

“Yes,” Sylas replied again.

“…”

“It was all with reason,” he said, smiling bitterly at the Prince’s cold expression.

“Dozens died,” he said. “Some of them veterans. We can’t afford more men dying just before the winter.” Aiii, I’m gonna back eventually and fix it… aah…

“What happened to you?” Sylas suddenly asked, surprising Valen.

“W-what do you mean?”

“When I first met you,” he continued. “You were this shy, innocent, naïve kid. Not a princely bone in your body. It feels as though you’ve become a completely different man.”

“… I had to,” Valen shrugged. “When hundreds look at you for answers, you can’t well enough be a shy and innocent boy. Besides, I had to become that librarian.”

“Ah, so this is your metamorphosis. Like a butterfly.”

“… what?”

“It’s okay to not always be a Prince, Valen,” Sylas said, surprising the young man. “Sometimes, it’s fine to just be a nineteen-year-old boy.”

“I’m not a boy.”

"We're all boys deep down," Sylas chuckled. "Lucky few can afford to be boys from cradle till the grave. Besides, it's just the two of us here. There are no subjects to impress, no men to inspire, no souls to command."

“… why didn’t you warn me?” Valen’s voice cracked slightly as he asked, lowering his head and hiding his face in the shadows cast by the fire. “Be honest. I know you see me as a boy and that you often speak in half-truths. I take it… because I know that you do it in mine and this castle’s best interest. But… but was so many people dying really in best interest?”

“No,” Sylas shook his head. “But their deaths are not on your shoulders.”

“The hell they’re not! I… I was the acting commander! My orders were late, my ability to lead—”

“Stop,” Sylas said. “Tell me about your String.”

“My… String? Is… is that what this is about? My String?”

"I was not inside the castle during the battle," Sylas said. "Instead, I followed the leader of the bandits who attacked us. He led me to a… figure, of sorts, someone who is in a high position of a cult who is behind a lot of things going wrong recently—including the first invasion during which we've met."

“Wait—what are you—”

“He implied that one of the people he’s cooperating with could be after your String,” Sylas continued. “But that it’s a fruitless effort—as it’s a Soulful Bind. Is it true?”

“Well, yes,” Valen nodded, feeling overwhelmed momentarily. "All Royal Strings are Soulful Binds. When I was young, Father often used to warn us with stories—how some generations ago, brothers would kill each other in the pursuit of the String, but it was in vain."

“So, who could be after your String? Who would think they’d be able to grasp it?”

“I… I don’t know,” Valen shook his head, helpless. “I… Royal Strings aren’t exactly common knowledge. Only the highest members of the Royal Court and Dukes are privy to them. And even they aren’t exactly certain as to what they are.”

“… what are they?” Sylas asked out of curiosity. Though he knew he likely shouldn’t—just in case he triggered a random quest—curiosity won. He could always not do the quest, after all.

“The Strings? Hmm,” Valen fell silent momentarily, gathering his thoughts. "It's… it's an innate ability, I suppose? Generally, what it means is that we have greater harmony with the natural energy—hence the name, the String connects us—but, beyond that, every member of the Royal Lineage, no matter how distant, has an innate ability. For most of us, even the Princes, the abilities are really nothing special—better handling of booze, slightly sharper sight, and basic things like that. On occasion, there are some special Strings—such as my Father's, since it's the very reason why he was able to ascend to the tier-Four Mage. His ability was that he's able to manipulate natural energy directly without first needing to process it within his body, like the rest of us.”

“Wow…” Sylas mumbled. In reality, he had no clue just how mind-bendingly broken that was since his frame of reference when it came to magic was simple—everything was ridiculously hard. “What about your String, then? Since someone’s after it, it has to be powerful.”

“Powerful?” Valen smiled bitterly. "It's pretty weak if I'm being honest. According to the Royal Bloodmayen, my ability is to see through illusions. I… honestly, it never even activated. Not that I’m aware of, anyway.” Sylas muted himself for a moment, a crazy idea surging in his head: the Shard. He recalled that the phantom figure in the mirror said something about an old legend that stated Shards were used to store the treasures, but he was adamant that was false. What if, however, those treasures were hidden behind the illusions? Was that the reason whoever Sylas supposedly ‘served’ was after the Prince? He wasn’t going to test it in this loop but it was his highest priority for the next. “Besides, outside Bloodmayen, Father, and the Queen, I don’t think anyone is even aware of what my String is.” Well, you just perfectly narrowed down my list of potential villains…

“…”

“So, if anyone’s trying to steal my String—even if it was possible—they’re wasting their time on something useless,” Valen said as Sylas finally remembered the soup, bringing over a bowl to the Prince. The latter blew on it a few times and stirred it with a spoon before slowly drinking. “Right—you distracted me. You mention that this figure you met was behind the Ghoulish Invasion? What did you mean by that?”

“… have you ever heard of the Cult of the Condemned?” Sylas asked.

“Cult of the Condemned? No. Is that who they are?”

“What about Order of the Moon Knights?”

“Moon Knights? Of course,” Valen nodded. “They’re one of the most respected Legions of the Kingdom’s internal army. What about them?”

“The man behind the attack,” Sylas said. “Is a former Knight of the Order. A deserter who was corrupted by the cult.”

“What?! How is that possible?! The Knights… they are… no, how is that possible?!” Valen repeated in shock.

“There’s a string connecting all of these things,” Sylas said. Since he’d be busy for an indefinite amount of time, he wanted to assign some tasks to the Prince—something he was better off doing anyway, in fact. “And I'm on the cusps of understanding it. The truth is that it all has roots in the founding of this Kingdom. Valen, look at me. I’ll be busy for some time and won’t be able to see you much. In the meantime, I have a task for you—I need you to look back through every historic record that you can get your hands on. And I want you to read them carefully. Everything that seems off, jot it down. Things that aren’t adding up. Events that seem strange.

“I want you to look into the history of this Kingdom to understand its present and save its future. None of these events are random or recent. Ghoulish Invasions aren't random. And I will stake my heart on this, but your exile wasn't a random act either. And you and I meeting… wasn't random either. This wheel of events was set in motion by something or someone long before either of us were born, and long before many of your ancestors were born. We are simply living to see it taken to the surface. Did you understand me?"

“Y-yes,” Valen replied meekly. He’d rarely seen Sylas this serious, which meant that he was absolutely confident in what he was saying. “Look into the past to understand the present and save the future.”

“Yes,” Sylas nodded. “I know you love this Kingdom and I know you love your Family. But, for the time being, I ask you to cast that love aside. There are flaws in everything. I need you to coldly look at the world and see those flaws, no matter how minor they are. Even seemingly the most inconsequential element of a seemingly unconnected event could lead us to understanding the world much better so that the very same world doesn't devour us when we go to say our hi’s.”