Chapter 179

The Kings

Derrek and Valen stuttered inwardly, their minds aflame with confusion, questions, and awe. They had just exited a rather rough terrain of the forest which took nearly a month and a half to cross, and just as they thought they’d get some physical and mental rest, they bore witness to a sight that finally broke them. According to a map, there was supposed to be a village here--but all they could see, as far as the horizon stretched, was a massacred flatland full of signs of battle, and a singular canyon that definitely shouldn’t be there.

The two pairs of eyes veered to the side where they saw Sylas and Asha chatting, with the former occasionally sipping some ale. The man’s back appeared even wider than before, and the terror engulfed the two’s souls. If Sylas lived... then whoever he fought died. And whichever battle would result in such a state for the terrain... it wasn’t a simple sword fight between two masters.

It was a fight between two unparalleled monsters that could obliterate armies all by themselves, given the want. And one of those monsters emerged victorious and was currently leisurely chatting, seemingly no care in the world. Sylas suddenly glanced back at them, as though he could feel their gazes on his back, and smiled.

Derrek, startled, quickly wheeled the Prince forward, through the masses that were deliberating on what they were thinking inwardly aloud, reaching the topless and barefoot man and a woman dressed as though she lived in a springtime garden.

“H-hello,” Derrek stuttered as Sylas cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?” Asha elbowed him. “Put yourself in his shoes. If you saw that canyon, wouldn’t you be terrified too?”

“Oh,” Sylas glanced back at the canyon and smiled faintly. “I thought snow would fill it back up before we came here. I guess it was a bit deeper than I thought.” Right! Valen and Derrek realized. A good chunk of the canyon’s depth was likely buried beneath the snow. Just how deep is that thing?!

“You don’t have to worry,” Asha smiled at the Prince and gently ruffled his hair. Over the many and many loops, she, too, had grown fond of the kids--Valen and Ryne--and their stubbornness to swim against the currents of fate. “Rather, shouldn’t you be happy?”

“H-happy?” Valen mumbled.

“Hm. Someone who can carve out a tombstone fit for giants is fighting for you. That’s not the kind of protection you can ever hope to buy, you know?”

“Y-yes, that’s true...” Valen replied absentmindedly.

“I... I don’t sense a Way from it,” Derrek commented. “I feel some remnant energies... but even trying to inspect them, I nearly choked.”

“Don’t play too much,” Sylas warned. “Anyway, we’ll rest here for a day and do a reset. Once we cross the forest on the other end, we’ll land at a massive village-slash-fortress. There’s a couple of folk there that will become good contributors to your campaign,” he looked at Valen. “When they see you in a wheelchair, they will see a weak, frail boy. I could beat them senseless until they respect you, but it’s not a solution.”

“Don’t worry,” Valen smiled. “I’m used to people seeing me as a frail boy. I won’t cower.”

“It’s not the matter of cowering, Valen. They need to see what I saw in you: the winged behemoth most fit for the throne. You can’t defer to me or Asha or Derrek or even Ryne.”

“... I won’t.”

“Are you sure?” Sylas crouched down, equalizing the eye-level. “Both Asha and I have been treating you like a common boy, and you have not once raised any issue with that, let alone retaliated.”

“...”

“Do you think I’ll be there for you forever?”

“... you won’t?”

“If I’m not, what then? Will you stutter away the crown? The King relies on his vassals to make him a Kingdom, not to be the Kingdom, little Prince. At the end of the day, the man wearing the crown cannot be seen as lesser than anyone else, prophets and messiahs included. What people need the most when the world is growing dark is a booming voice of thunder to carry them forward. You, and you alone, need to be that voice.”

“... I understand,” Valen nodded. “I’ll treat you like an ass that you are from now on.”

“Good,” Sylas grinned as Valen sighed and rolled his eyes. “I am a bit of an ass, aren’t I?”

“A bit?” Asha arched her brows. “If you were any bigger, we’d have a permanent eclipse.”

“... damn, you’ve gotten good,” Sylas sucked in a bout of cold air. “I remember when you’d get embarrassed just saying ‘ass’. And here you are, making a fat-ass jokes.”

“I did learn from the best.”

“You did. I’d love to meet the man one day.”

“Haaah... do you two want anything?” she turned toward Derrek and Valen who were looking at them strangely.

“N-no, nothing. Are you... are you two always like this?” Valen asked.

“Not always,” Sylas replied. “Usually, when I tell her how beautiful she is, she still reeks red. Ah. Just like that,” he pointed at Asha’s cheeks. The latter lowered her head and pressed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, feeling the headache coming. “But don’t look at us as an example, little Prince. Ryne probably won’t be into what this one is.”

“What? Verbal abuse? Yes, that’s precisely what I want.” Asha grumbled.

“When did I ever verbally abuse you, huh?”

“Holy hell. I’ll poke your eyes out.”

“See? I’m the one being abused here.”

“Besides, why are you trying to pitch the two of them together?” Asha pondered aloud. “Love isn’t based on proximity.”

“Ryne might have lost her sight,” Sylas looked at Asha strangely. “But boy, you girl are fuckin’ blind.” At the same time, Valen coughed awkwardly and pulled Derrek’s sleeve.

“Khm, right. The Prince needs to rest. We’ll be off.”

“...” Asha smiled faintly as the two departed before looking at Sylas whose eyes were already focused on the world beyond the forest. “Have you ever thought about becoming a King yourself? You seem mighty well-versed in how to reign.”

“Sitting on an uncomfortable chair all day long, passing judgment on others, and having some ugly-looking, yeast-infested old scrubs kiss my ass all day long? Tempting,” Sylas replied. “But... if I became a King, the cycle would just continue.”

“Continue?”

“I’d burn and crucify everyone,” he replied. “Partly out of vengeful spite, and partly because nobody would for a second buy me as a kind king.”

“That’s true.”

“The world has had enough kings like that. It has had enough morons, enough sociopaths, enough maddened monsters so insecure in themselves they’d burn the first man who opposes them. It deserves a chance, don’t you think?” he added. “A chance at actual success.”

“... it won’t last long. Even if Valen turns out to be the best possible King one can be, in time, things will circle back.”

“They always do,” Sylas said. “There’s always the meteoric rise, the grand success and the crowning, the golden age, the doubt, and the fall.”

“Wouldn’t the world benefit, then, from a relatively sane King who can’t die?” she rested her head on his shoulder as they sat down.

“Relatively sane?” he said. “I’m perfectly sane, thank you very much.”

“Well, I never did say you were quite the expert on yourself.”

“You know what the world would benefit from the most?”

“What?” Asha inquired.

“No Kings, no Queens, no Gods, no nothin’,” he replied. “Every man a world unto himself, every woman a tree that can never wither and wilt. Wars, greed, and bloodshed hide and skew it, but people are at their best when there are no gods to bicker over, no lords to serve, no kings or queens to go to war for.”

“You think so?” Asha said. “I think, if not that, they’ll find something else to bicker over and something else to march to war for.”

“I’m amazed at how I have more faith in people than the actual Prophet.”

“Ha ha ha,” Asha laughed for a moment. “I do have faith in people. After all, you are people too, Sylas. And if someone who lived your life can come out of it laughing, his heart still capable of emotion, then... well, I believe everyone has the capacity for kindness and goodness.”

“Well, I am that good.”

“Haah, I really shouldn’t feed your ego.”

During the duration of rest, virtually everyone from the entourage walked up to the canyon to inspect it closely. The only ones who could actually feel the remnant energy were Derrek and Ryne, and the former warned the latter not to even attempt it.

For others, it was merely a strange phenomenon, something to occupy their time with. They were strangely accept of it, Sylas realized--mostly due to the fact that they saw the snow of the Cold Snap mean nothing in the way of a Prophet. Food and water never ran out, and they hadn’t been attacked by any of the winter beasts that the elders warned them of. In fact, rather than a perilous, winter journey, it was more akin a casual hike one would do for entertainment.

The next day came, and everyone slowly began departing, leaving behind the strange sight and once again entering a forest. Blind to their future, they still held complete faith--mostly in two men, Valen, their future King, and the strange, topless man leading the charge, the castle’s own Prophet. Whatever winds came, they knew, those two men would shield them from it all. No matter what.