Chapter 176

Journey Southward

“We are going to go where exactly?” Valen was the one to proclaim the question, though a look of confusion and desire to have misheard was evident on everyone. While Sylas chopped down some nice, smoked meat, and while Asha twirled about with her hair on the side, appearing entirely disinterested in the affair, Valen, Ryne, Derrek, and a few other strongest surviving members of the castle appeared aghast at Sylas’ very simple sentence that had shaken the room like a bolt of thunder: In two weeks, we all march south.

Sylas remained silent, looking up at their incredulous faces while chewing away at the meat. It had been some time since he last sat with them, he realized, though could still barely prevent himself from laughter. After all, those were quite the expressions.

“South, you daft lot,” he shrugged. “So, start arranging the horses, the wagons, the carriages. Who will walk, who will drive, who will luxuriously sit and ponder on life’s many mysteries: such as, why are we marching south?”

“That’s impossible,” the one who spoke was likely the oldest in the room—well, Sylas aside—looking to be well over fifty. Sylas, if once he knew the man’s name, no longer did. Nor did he bother asking. “You are asking—”

“I’m not asking,” Sylas interrupted. “You misunderstood. This isn’t a discussion.”

“So, what is it? A command? Are you commanding a Prince?” the man asked.

“I’d command a god if I needed to. So, shut up and listen. I’d very much like to go south myself without bolting the entire castle to my back, but the depressing part is that the dead always come. And, well, fuck it all up. If you’d prefer to be the feed to ghouls and other monster, please, feel free to stick around and piss in all the snow.”

“…” though the man was red-faced and clearly angry, Valen’s quick indication with the young man’s arm prevented an outburst. “I never doubted you, Sylas. No matter what. But this… even if we could do it, two weeks is nowhere near enough for preparation. Besides, there’s no way that the horses can actually move through the snow. It’s too deep.”

“Leave those worries aside,” Sylas said. “If I wanted to waste everyone’s time pointlessly, I’d have asked you to dig moats around the walls. Besides, this march is for you.”

“For me?”

“The throne awaits,” Sylas said, finishing off the smoked meat and washing it down with some wine. “But it won’t wait forever. If we don’t reach the capital by the winter’s end, there’s gonna be another King sitting there. And I’m frankly too tired to play out that path, too.”

“You have seen this?”

“This and that and plenty rest. You said you trusted me, no matter what.”

“… yes.”

“I made a blunder,” Sylas continued, staring directly into Valen’s eyes. The latter felt… restless. There was something different about the Prophet. Though the man was never in-and-in, so to say, he never felt this… cold. “A pretty big one, true. Doesn’t invalidate that I, for the most part, know what I’m doing. At least now, anyway. Besides,” he added, his voice cooling even further. “As I mentioned before… I ain’t asking.”

“Be nice, jackass,” Asha grumbled angrily and slapped the back of his head. “What this mutt is trying to say is that you won’t have to worry about provisions and the road there. After all, he is a Prophet. Gods bless the journeys of their children. Always.”

Despite her attempts, tense atmosphere persisted. Sylas ignored it—it was irrelevant, after all. They would fail this attempt. And the next. And the one after that. And the next ten. And possibly the next thousand. If he had to be mindful of others each one of those loops, he’d go absolutely insane—well, more insane than he was at the moment.

He merely made the order—but had no intention of staying and calculating the logistics of it all. While they were to figure out how to move an entire castle worth of people, he had to go to the village first and deal with his end of the bargain. While he was confident in battling the Shadow, it wasn’t as though his winrate was 100%. There was entirely a chance that he just might die to the Shadow and he’d have to do this all over again.

After he would settle them somewhere near the village, he’d then move further south into the fort and have a talk with the good old Av and Vanessa, bringing them into the fold. And after… well, he was still blind to the after. The fort was still in the deep north, and there were still hundreds upon hundreds miles of journey toward the capital. On the way over, they’ll pass many counties and baronies and dukedoms that he’d have to bring under Valen’s thumb. And each will have a story, he was certain, that will take up more than one loop to cleanse.

He left the room silent and confused, but, to his surprised, was followed out by Ryne and not Asha. She likely stayed behind to help them navigate the entire thing—as she still seemed to care for the sensibilities of each and every loop.

“You were always an ass,” Ryne said as she caught up to him quickly and latched onto his left arm. She wore a black cloth over her eyes and was seemingly trying to grow out the bangs as quickly as possible to cover them too. “But this kind of assholery… is different. You were never cold—more… flamboyant, perhaps?”

“A keen eye.”

“…”

“…”

“See?! Like that!” she exclaimed as her lips stretched out into a wide smile. “That’s Sylas I know! Why were you like that inside, then?”

“Because I had to be,” Sylas shrugged. “I only ever mellow out for you, little one.”

“Oh, boo-ho, spare me, please. You didn’t have to be that mean to Valen, at least. Let him have some face in front of his subjects—otherwise, how will they respect the Prince if you don’t?”

“Well, if I don’t,” Sylas navigated. “Nothing happens except we have at our hands a sullen nineteen-year-old boy. Which, well, is every nineteen-year-old boy anyway. On the other hand, if they disrespect him, their heads fly. So, you see, there’s a big difference.”

“Do we really have to go south?” she asked suddenly.

“Why? Do you want to stay here?”

“No—no, I mean, I know that the castle is dangerous and that the north is dangerous, but…”

“There will be a war, little one,” he gently patted her head. “A big, grand war. And we must march toward it. Well, at least I do. It will do us no good to hide in the frigid woods and snow-laden fjords while the rest of the Kingdom burns. There’s a throne to be won, after all. Wouldn’t you like to become a Princess?” he teased as Ryne’s cheeks flushed red.

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “I won’t become anything. Not like this, anyway.”

“Hmm, mighty defeatist of you. Ryne I know would shit all over those notions and go on to do whatever the hell she wanted anyway. Can I have her back, please?”

“We’ll follow you, wherever you go,” she said. “So, don’t you dare abuse it!”

“I wouldn’t dream,” he chuckled lightly. “I live for satisfying you, kids.”

“You better!”

Sylas left the castle in the dead of the night, though the castle was hardly silent and asleep; ever since Valen announced the departure, amidst the general confusion and worry, everyone was simply too busy with the preparations to sleep. He did manage to sneak out easily enough, though some twenty miles from the castle, he stopped and looked back. He couldn’t see her, but she was there. It was… eerie. She could hide better than anyone he knew, and he suspected nobody else would actually be able to figure it out. A scary thing, Prophets were indeed. With more Cairns… wouldn’t they have been effective Demigods in this world?

“How’d you figure it out?” she appeared to his side, unexpectedly, as though she was always there. He frowned and scratched his head trying to understand it for a moment, but let it go. It wasn’t worth the headache.

“I felt you.”

“Aww.”

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you helping them?”

“There’ll be another time,” she said. “I want to accompany you for a while.”

“I won’t be sleeping or resting on the way over. And I might die. You alright with all that?”

“Alright is a relative word,” she grabbed his arm and dragged him forward, southward. “I’m alright with not sleeping. Not with watching you die. Even if I know you’ll come back.”

“… I found out, by the way.”

“Found out what?” she quizzed.

“Who summoned me here.”

“Eh? Really? Who? Who was it?”

“Some immortal chick.”

“…”

“…”

“I could have told you that.”

“No, I mean, I met her,” he said. “Or… it. Something. We chatted for a bit.”

“You chatted… with an Immortal? Suuure. Is that Immortal here with us, now?”

“Shut it,” he lightly flickered her forehead. “I’ve learned plenty of things. She was really coy with knowledge of this world, though. Well, I inferred some things. So, good enough.”

“You didn’t ask about me, have you?” she looked at him coyly. “Girls don’t like when boys go behind their backs like that, you know?”

“What would I ask about you?” he shrugged. “You’re an open book already. I genuinely think you physically can’t lie.”

“I can lie.”

“Alright. Lie.”

“You are the handsomest man in the world!”

“I asked you to lie.”

“Tsk,” she clicked her tongue, letting go of his arm. “Fine. I may be a bad liar, but I have my secrets!”

“Sure you do, sure you do. And these secrets, are they with us now?”

“…”

“…”

“Sylas.”

“Yes?”

“Fuck you.”