Chapter 141

Calm Between the Walls

Sylas slowly opened his eyes to the sound of the morning barks; it’s been a while, he realized, since he last had a good, uninterrupted night’s rest. Beyond that, he had no worries, no new things he had to do today, no plans for potentially dying to something insurmountable. It was an ordinary day, he realized, one where he could just relax and do nothing. As such, he elected to do something he hasn’t done in a while--roll around in the bed even after having woken up.

It was a wee bit different, however, without a phone in his hands to distract him from the dullness of his reality. All he had to read here were the gray walls and the numerous cracks that decorated them. Eventually, he groaned and sat up, yawning broadly. On the other end of the room, he saw that Asha had already woken up and was gobbling down a bowl of something, firing away relentlessly while reading through a tome on the desk.

He walked up and grabbed a bowl and poured the stew for himself--it was cold and gray and didn’t taste particularly good, but it was food still and he had gotten entirely numb to the ‘bad taste’ of it all. Sitting down, he saw that she was reading through the history of the noble family, again. She’d done so several times the last few days, always expecting to discover something new that she had missed all the times before. Naturally, there was nothing there--Sylas knew as much. He’d read the many tomes front to back with a fine comb, and found little else beyond what was there on the surface of things.

However, he didn't disturb her and let her be; she'd gotten really into reading and figuring out history even beyond the noble family, and he wasn't about to stamp it out because it's not practical--especially because there was a little rush to where they were going, more so now that he'd decided to simply rest.

“Some maid came earlier, by the way,” she said, setting the tome aside. “Told me Valen had asked for us. He’s probably wondering who’s the witch you brought into the castle.”

“So, who are you this time around?” he quizzed, taking a spoonful of stew.

“Hmm,” she pressed her chin. “A mysterious beauty you discovered on your adventures?”

“That’s literally who you are, though,” Sylas commented.

“Aww~~”

“Alright, today, you’re an urchin I picked up from the gutter and decided to take under my wing,” he said, much to her instant dismay.

“Eat shit.”

“That’s becoming your catchphrase,” he chuckled, finishing off the breakfast. “Anyway, let’s go see what the mighty Prince wants.”

The two left the damp room and departed down the winding, chilly corridors of the castle--well, chilly for other people. By now, Sylas couldn’t even feel cold unless he exposed himself to something as insane as the mountain peaks westward. Other than that, he was always feeling ‘room temperature’, so to say. On their way over, guards stationed around the corridors greeted Sylas and stared strangely at the woman next to him--an exotic specimen, no doubt, what with the inhumanely white hair and strange eyes and a genuine summer dress in the dead of the Cold Snap.

Entering the common dining hall, Sylas saw that Valen was there, alongside some other standard suspects--Derrek and Ryne included--as well as several faces that he remembered from passing. Valen greeted the two of them smilingly and ushered them forward, asking some nearby maids to pour them each a drink.

“You’re awfully chirpy,” Sylas commented.

“Not any more than usual,” Valen replied. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Well?” Sylas glanced at Asha. “Are you going to introduce yourself?”

“...” she glared at him for a moment before facing the inquisitive group. Her cheeks flushed red and she appeared increasingly awkward and shy. And yet, her lips parted and a soft voice came through. “I am... I am his Maiden.”

“...”

“...” though most other people were quite surprised, Sylas was outright shocked and nearly fell off the chair.

“We figured, ha ha,” Valen laughed. “Only someone like Sylas could sway a beauty like you!”

“Now, now Prince,” Sylas said. “That handsome face of yours is the true answer for the women’s wants. I am merely a brute who forced my way into her heart, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, a boyish face is a women’s want?” Valen joked. “Hardly. Have you two eaten? If not, I can order the kitchen to fix you something.”

“No, we did,” Sylas replied. “Anyway, what were you all prattling on about before we came?”

“Not much--just admiring the calm we’ve enjoyed,” he said. “It’s become a luxury up here, I noticed.”

“It has,” Sylas nodded. Nearly a month had gone by since the ‘day’, and most of the castle was slowly returning to its normal state. “So, how about we spice it up a bit.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“A sparring tournament!” Sylas said. “We need new blood anyway and may as well make it a thing. Get everyone to sign up, dangle some rewards, and have young lads beat the everloving shit out of each other for our entertainment.”

“Your awful and morbid look at it notwithstanding,” Valen said. “That is not a bad idea. We can’t do much anyway, what with the Cold Snap and all, and I’ve heard that most people are quite bored. What would we offer as rewards, however? Food and drinks aren’t exactly forbidden here.”

“Ryne and I can craft some minor talismans,” Sylas said. “You can Knight a winner or something, my lovely Maiden over here can probably whip up something neat as well. And the best of the best will get personal tutelage from our very own storm, Derrek.”

“I refuse,” the man immediately said.

“Good thing your opinion doesn’t matter,” Sylas grinned at the man who rolled his eyes.

“Can’t you just let a cripple rest?” he waved the stub around awkwardly.

“I don’t see any cripples here, though?” Sylas said. “Where they at? I’m quite curious.”

“So, how do we structure the tournament?” Valen asked giddily. “Can every man in the castle apply?”

"Man, woman, child," Sylas said, recalling that one particular maid that he sparred with a long, long time ago. "Whoever doesn't mind a beating. Naturally, our Derrek boy here and I will closely monitor the fights so that neither of the fighters gets too injured or, gods forbid, killed. You can even start a betting ring on the side where those who don't want to fight can put down some coin or something else of value on who will win the fight. We can go full degenerate!"

“Yes, yes!” Valen exclaimed. “Engage the entire castle, take their minds off of things.”

“Anyway, Ryne, you up for some talisman making with your pal over here?” Sylas asked.

“Okay. But we can’t give out any really powerful ones! It’s unsafe and against my creed,” she said.

“Don’t worry. Wouldn’t want to step over your creed.”

“Hey, I’m blind, not deaf! I can still hear the mockery!” she complained while the rest of the table laughed gently.

“Alright, alright, apologies. I’ll take you out on a walk later as an apology. How about it?”

“Really?! Can we go outside the walls for a bit?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Why? You want to see what’s it like to take a piss out in the snow?”

“Ha ha ha ha--ouch!” Sylas yelped in pain as he felt an elbow in his ribs. Glancing to the side, he saw Asha was glaring at him.

“Be proper, you mule,” she warned. “You can’t talk to a girl like that!”

“So, you’re not a girl, then?”

“I have made my peace with your vile lips,” she said. “But I won’t have you besmirching the world with them!”

“Oh, she’s got you pinned, there,” Derrek joined in, grinning. “I already like her.”

“Somebody who can control you?” Ryne added, grinning as well. “I may just start calling her Master and seeking lessons from her.”

“I don’t think you’d appreciate her lessons,” Sylas fired back. “They involve a whole lot of things you’d definitely do to someone different entirely,” while Ryne blushed and pouted, Asha sighed and slapped the back of his head gently.

“What things? Don’t be putting stray and strange things out into the world. There are no things.”

“Ah, that’s true, there are no things,” Sylas sighed as Valen ordered another round of drinks. He’d missed this, he realized; he, as well as most others, feared that Sylas would devolve into a spiral of depression. That’s why they mostly left him to his own devices and didn’t bother him; luckily, it seemed to have worked, as he was treating them like nobody else in the castle did--as though there was nothing different. “Alright, so, we’re doing the tournament. You’ll have to go big, sweet little Prince. Prepare a massive feast, write some damn good speeches, and get bards to write some new songs. Are you up for it?”

“Hoh, but of course!” Valen nodded, raising the cup as everyone else followed. Even Ryne joined in, sneaking in a drink while everybody was focused on the Prince. “It will be the grandest Tournament in the Kingdom’s history! Perhaps not by skill, but by heart and spirit it shall be unmatched!”

“Aye, good start,” Sylas chuckled. “To the Prince and to the future!”

“E-eh? What--”

“To the Prince, and to the future!” while Valen took the toast somewhat awkwardly, the rest downed their cups and began dispersing one by one--likely wanting to spread the word as quickly as possible. Soon enough, only the original group remained--with the addition of Asha, who had already relocated away from Sylas and next to Ryne.

“Now, I’ll start asking some strange questions,” Sylas said suddenly, causing Valen to tilt his head toward him. “Mostly about your father.”

“My... Father? Why?” Valen asked, appearing somewhat uncomfortable.

“Because I know fuck all about the man we’re planning on dethroning,” Sylas said. “And that’s not how I operate. Well, I didn’t use to. And I’d like to go back to that philosophy. So, let’s start with the beginning. How much can you tell me about your father before he became the King?”