Discordant Note | TBATE

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Arthur Leywin

"We still hold the Triple Fork," Trodius Flamesworth said gravely, punctuating his statement by maneuvering one of several pieces representing the Dicathian forces along the map toward Sapin's southeastern corner. "All through this week, there have been attempted incursions to take the critical point, but none have been successful."

The expertly trimmed noble spared me a short glance from where I lounged at the head of the war table, his hard eyes asking a silent question. I nodded slowly.

"Rumors claim that a Scythe leads from the camp opposite the Triple Fork, but they haven't been seen yet. We maintain air superiority at the moment, but our numbers are strained and stretched attempting to hold out this crucial point. Blackbend City is adapting effectively to being a ways away from the siege."

As Trodius continued to speak, I let myself observe the gathered nobles. All of those present were handpicked for their competence in warfare and strategy. I'd effectively strained out all the useless bureaucracy from the Triunion military, leaving it as an efficient and respectable force. Even King Grey's ghost seemed to almost approve as he stared into my soul.

An elven commander, Rashel Chaffer, stared grimly down at the many little tile pieces on the far end of the map that represented the Alacryan fleet stationed around the Earthmother's Isle. A little over a week ago, those ships had arrived and plummeted the military into a dour mood. The next phase of the war was beginning.

And sure enough, Alacryan troops traveled up the Sehz River along Darv's eastern border, using it to try and punch straight through towards Blackbend City, and there were rumors that another Scythe was at their head.

That led us to our current meeting. Many of Dicathen's brightest military minds gathered in Xyrus City to make a plan for the future.

"But our numbers are struggling to deal with the southern attack and keeping an eye on the rest of the border. Our troops are like a pack of world lions struggling to fend off cinder hyenas from a kill. They'll slowly wear us down if something doesn't change," Trodius said simply, before setting down the prodder and adjusting his immaculate suit.

The attention of the gathered elves and men shifted, focusing on one particular member that stood at my right hand. They were shorter than most present, but their power was greater than any others present except my own. Their stares were harsh and restrained as they focused in on a single outlier.

"The tunnels along the northern coast are what's stretchin' numbers thin," Elder Buhndemog Lonuid, the dwarven representative of the Triunion Council, said darkly in response to Lord Flamesworth. His muscled body tensed as he let the distrustful stares of the other military men wash over him. "Guerrilla attacks from the dwarven rebels are making it hard to focus on the Sehz River in the far east. They just pop out of the tunnels, strike, then retreat before anyone can respond. Makes it hell for us all."

It was ironic, how much of the racial animosity between elves and humans had been stymied by another, greater hatred: that of the dwarves for betraying Dicathen.

"New weapons created by the artificer Gideon Bastius will help to address these issues," I said dully, cutting through the tension in the room. "It will allow us to centralize our troops more between Mayburn and Blackbend City to better control Sapin's southern border."

The mad inventor in question had borne a haunted expression as he'd witnessed the results of his latest weapons, but that hadn't stopped him from presenting his findings to me. We both understood that there were lines that were crossed in war.

I stepped forward, all present in the room lowering their heads slightly in respect as I took the prodder. "The Alacryans are clearly making a push for Blackbend City. Controlling that city means controlling the rivers along the border. If that city falls, then solid resistance on our southern front will be near impossible. To this end," I said, gesturing at the Wall a ways to the east of Blackbend, "it is unlikely that another attack will come from the east, considering how fortified our position in the Beast Glades is. Still, it is standard military tactics to surround and cut off resistance. We should expect that the probing forces from the south are not all that we will face."

I'd encouraged the military leaders all around Sapin's south to dig trenches in preparation for the guerrilla warfare and land tactics that would soon swarm them with the true introduction of Gideon's manalock muskets and cannonry.

My gaze panned across the gathered lords, noting the phantom of King Grey looming in the corner. "Do any of you have any suggestions for how to reinforce our flanks and ensure that no other fronts might be opened to trap us in?"

A hand rose near the edge of the room. I nodded to Lord Chaffer as he stepped forward, giving him permission to speak.

"Rumor has it that a Scythe is stationed near the Triple Fork," he said, his perceptive gray eyes narrowing. "Should not a Lance be deployed to match them? They pose the greatest threat to our stability in the region."

I nodded slowly as murmurs went through the nobles. I'd been waiting for this question. In fact, I'd intentionally let someone else ask it first to guide the conversation.

"A good question. Lance Silverthorn will be sent to reinforce the river forces to deter any potential incursion from the Scythe," I said carefully, measuring each and every syllable, "and if need be, to face them in combat."

Most of the Lances had direct missions now to ensure the safety of the continent, each stationed in places that would make the best use of their abilities for the next phase of this war. And while I didn't entirely agree with Tess' plan…

I couldn't deny it. I couldn't ignore the possibilities that it brought, or the tactical advantages. It would risk a confrontation with a Scythe. That single Scythe whose name Uto had refused to surrender.

Talks continued for a time on troop placement, effective use of the new manalock weapons that were being distributed to nonmage soldiers, and the artillery that was slowly being rolled out. An air of hope and determination suffused the army commanders as I talked with them for a few hours more, outlining a clear course for the war moving forward.

I'd successfully instilled the grit and determination required to break our enemy into these men. They'd seen what our new weapons could do. They'd smelt the gunpowder and felt the power of the Lances. But as I finally dismissed them for a time, I felt the façade of a dutiful, unbreakable king slowly mist away.

I waved my hand dismissively, conjuring a chair of stone that I practically melted into. I ran a gloved hand through my shoulder-length auburn hair, staring up at the beautifully mosaiced ceiling. King Grey stood at the opposite end of the long, rectangular table, his crown glinting in the mana artifact light.

The supports within my mind wavered as I exhaled a long, weary sigh. The aether in the atmosphere danced and shivered in a way that was distinctly unnatural as it brushed across my growing beard. I almost imagined I could feel the gentle caress of each purple mote, but…

There was something unnatural about the ambient aether. Something changed and moved in it. I hadn't been able to sense it when I'd been a student at Xyrus Academy, of course, but now? I could almost taste the complex weave of reality-defying magic that kept the floating city aloft.

Xyrus was massive. At fifteen miles in diameter, the floating city was an artifact of a bygone age. The understanding and insight into aether required to anchor this massive landmass in the sky was beyond any modern mage. It made this world feel truly unique and impossible compared to my past life.

Except…

The djinn, I thought, tracing the weaves of aether in the world around me as the spellwork of those ancient mages stood strong, despite uncountable ages since their destruction. Did they know that cities and teleportation gates would be all that was left of them?

I tried desperately not to think of the revelations that Sylvie and Rinia both had dropped into my lap. The idea that Kezess and the dragons of the Indrath Clan had genocided a peaceful race simply for comprehending more about aether than any others made questions about the purpose of this war bubble up uncontrollably at the edges of my frayed psyche.

My bond was waiting at the flying castle now. She'd told me that she expected Windsom to arrive soon because of Rinia's words, and she would be there to greet him.

And in the meantime? I needed to do my job. I needed to be King.

My eyes flowed over stylized depictions of waves on the ceiling, imagining a small ship as it was constantly slammed by roaring storms from every single angle. I could almost picture the crew inside desperately trying to tie down the sails and shovel out buckets upon buckets of water. The captain struggled not to succumb to the weight of all the lives under his care.

"I always viewed this life as a second chance," I said quietly, wondering if I'd finally gone mad. "I got the chance to build up everything I'd thrown away in my past life. A family. A home. A future."

I painfully raised my head. The simple gold crown atop my auburn hair ripped at my scalp and clung there like a demon's grasping claws as I stared at King Grey's phantom on the other end of the war table.

That ghost had always, always judged me. Every time I looked at the edge of my eyes, he was there watching. He viewed himself as separate from it all. Above the petty squabbles of mortal men. But for the first time, I let myself peel apart his layers, too.

"How could you not feel it?" I asked, tilting my head as I locked gazes with King Grey. "How wretched were you that you never felt the heft of a tombstone atop your skull? How little humanity was left in you that you couldn't comprehend the truth of your station?"

I'd never addressed this vision of mine, fearful of giving into the notes of madness and fueling them more. But the judgment felt wrong now. After all I'd grown to understand and the burdens I carried on my shoulders, what right had this husk to think himself above me?

I slowly stood. My legs creaked like faultlines shorn through the crust of the earth as I stood to my full height. I rolled my shoulders, exhaling my anger as I slowly strode toward that break in my perception.

King Grey turned to face me, his mirrored crown glinting in the low light. His eyes were empty and formless portals to the mutilated abyss of my former mind as I matched them with ones of brilliant azure.

"This life isn't a second chance," I hissed lowly, looming over the demon in the depths of this empty room. "It's hell. Every step is wrought with cleansing pain as I am punished for the sins of my past. That's what you want me to think, isn't it? And you're the demon at my shoulder telling me that this is what is deserved. You want to pull me back into that pit."

Visions of the struggles I'd endured flickered through my skull. Of fighting for my family. How I endured the same hopeless position I'd thrust Marlorn into so long ago. How I would bear the weight of the Dicathian lives lost on every tide of this war.

"You felt none of it, King Grey," I sneered, tilting up my chin as strength swelled in my body. "You are a ghost. A phantom. A blade with no wielder. You were made through mutilation. But I have pieced back together everything that you left behind. So watch, if you want. But do not judge. Stay sheathed, weapon."

I leaned forward, staring deep into the abyss of this figment of my mind, wondering in part if I had truly broken inside. I could almost imagine the tension in the room swelling as our intents clashed and fought.

I looked across the being in front of me, for the first time seeing what a broken thing it was. A heartless automaton without any soul behind it. This shade had always been so terrifying to me. But as all four elements of mana bolstered me against the world and the aether of Xyrus itself seemed to sing, I knew I was more than this creature.

And I saw something in its eyes change. Not that judgmental stare, but disappointment. As if I were some pitiful dog that had bit the hand that fed it.

King Grey opened his mouth, and I wondered what he would say. Would he try and justify himself? No, that was out of character. Would he scorn me? Or would he continue with his one-track demand of my suffering? What could ever justify that look in his eyes?

"Arthur," a familiar voice said.

I froze. King Grey had not spoken. That voice had come from behind me.

The phantom in front of me flaked away on dusty particles of purple aether, his eyes closing as some streak of emotion pierced them through. Something I could not catch, could not understand.

I couldn't tell. The shade of King Grey disappeared without a breath too quick for me to latch on.

I slowly turned, feeling that strength I'd felt a moment before draining from my shoulders. The pristine mantle around my neck felt like a noose with which I'd hung myself as I stared at the person who had found their way into the most well-guarded station in Xyrus City.

His ash-grey hair was shorter than I last remembered it. It was far more well-kempt, too, but that didn't hide the haunted azure eyes below. His beard was shorter, about the same length as mine.

My father stared at me mutely, his eyes trailing over me with an unreadable expression.

I hadn't seen him in months. Not since our argument outside Blackbend as I tried to convince him to leave the war. The last words he had said to me—the very words that had finally pushed me to take up my crown once more—echoed through my skull.

"Sometimes, all we can do is what we can, even if it means that it hurts those around us."

I'd sent him to Xyrus, alongside my mother. As the sole Commander of Dicathen's forces, I couldn't let my parents and those I cared for remain at risk of being taken hostage by Agrona. I had to think logically.

As logically as Virion had when he'd withdrawn Tessia from the war.

My earlier confidence and gusto evaporated as Reynolds mutely stared at me. I stared back.

"Your mother didn't want to come," Reynolds said quietly. "I got the young elf, Albold, to talk to his father to let me in. But Allie… She was afraid of what she'd see in you."

I clenched my teeth, letting out a wheezing breath. "That was wise of her," I said, assuming what mantle I could. "I've been busy."

"Busy," Reynolds repeated dully, his eyes roaming over the military board behind me. "Alice has been busy, too. She's doing a lot of research with the Xyrus Academy mages. Things that help people."

His eyes took on a distant cast as he spoke. Indeed, I'd dropped a heap of information with the Xyrus researchers, ordering them to take steps forward in things such as germ theory and virology. I didn't have an ounce of expertise in those fields, but I could point those far more capable than I in the right direction. After all, wasn't that a king's duty?

Reynolds' gaze seemed to focus again, the nestled darkness at the edge of his eyes finding its way to his center. "Ellie says she's learning more than ever now. You told her about your past life. Gave her books on ki manipulation."

"I did," I said awkwardly. I felt stuck, only able to react rather than take action as my father said each word. "I thought they would help her."

Reynolds opened his mouth, then closed it. He walked to a nearby wall, unable to linger in the doorway forever. Each of the footfalls of his boots made me wonder if Xyrus itself would fall from the sky from its weight.

He stared mutely at a mural of some ancient battlefield on the side of the wall. Unable to do anything else, I stared at the wall, too, trying to come up with something to say. The crown on my head made it bow towards the ground.

Infinitely painful minutes creaked by as I tried to pull emotion from the eyes of a painted commander. I couldn't, but I tried. I wanted to feel what that man in the mural felt right now. Strong and courageous to face the battle before me.

"I came here wanting to be… angry," my father finally said, his words hoarse. "Tessia told us why you did… this. She came to us and told us what pushed you over the edge to claim the mantle of King, because you've been hiding from us. You've kept away from Xyrus. You haven't responded to any of our messages."

I didn't reply. I didn't think I could ever form a word again.

"That all makes sense, Arthur," he said, his shoulders shaking. "But I want to hear it from you."

"What do you want to hear?" I finally pushed out, my voice raw as if I had never seen a drop of water in my life.

"It wasn't just a way to force us into this city," he said. It was a statement, but I knew it was a question in equal measure.

"No, it wasn't," I echoed in agreement. Visions of that moment that felt like a lifetime ago seemed to paint themselves across the wall in front of me. The fight between the councilors as Virion's comatose state became more and more apparent. The news of Vildorial's fall. Aldir's interruption. The dawning horror as Taci elucidated his plans for us 'lessers.'

What would this war look like if Taci had succeeded in taking the mantle? I feared to imagine it. I couldn't fathom why Kezess Indrath had thought it a wise idea. He would see us destroyed.

And that left only one option. Only one that might see the people of Sapin survive.

"Because you were right, Dad. Some things… Some things are bigger than us all. There are some causes that are worth fighting for. Even if they bring us pain."

Perhaps I could have figured out some way to smuggle Tessia, Ellie, and my parents to some distant dungeon in the Beast Glades and avoid the war forevermore. But I'd realized, in that critical, crucial moment, that I couldn't. Maybe Grey could have. But Arthur… the Arthur I was becoming?

He would never be able to.

Dad's legs trembled as he stared into my eyes, something inside them horrifying him. I swallowed, wondering if he saw the lingering corpse of Grey, or perhaps the madness of my broken mind.

He thought of what to say for a long time. I thought I could hear the gears in his mind turning as he slowly began to understand.

After all, he was right. When we'd last spoken, it had been made clear to me how selfish I was. And he was right about what it meant to be a soldier in a war. The deaths of every person were given meaning through those who continued on in their name.

"How much of yourself will you burn away?" he finally asked.

It was my turn to think. A question like that deserved an honest answer.

"I'm not burning myself away," I decided, recalling my long-past duel with Taci in the Beast Glades. In that moment, I'd found a way to build myself within this role. I could grow and change instead of crumbling. "This is something I can do. It hurts. I stumble, and I fall. But it's something I must do, too. I'm finding my pace."

I looked back at the mosaic of a battlefield commander. "When this is all done and the Alacryans are broken and beaten, I can rest then. When I can be certain that others get their second chance, too."

"Will there be anything left of… my son to be there when all is said and done?" Dad asked.

I chuckled slightly, mildly amused by the irony of our positions. I had no doubt that my father saw it, too. It served to bring back some strength into my bones. That very strength I'd thought had abandoned me after my dad had first appeared here like a ghost. "Are you feeling selfish, too?"

Reynolds laughed a little, too. It wasn't a mirthful laugh, like mine. More like a man overwhelmed and overburdened as more and more and more piled up in front of them. That laughter slowly transformed into gasps as he fought for breath. "Yes," he said, silent tears streaming down his face. "Yes, I am."

I moved a bit closer to my father, keeping my attention forward as I massaged his back with an arm. He'd done the same for me the last time we'd met. When I'd felt weak and powerless, he'd been there to console and lift me up as a father should. But now, he was lacking in his strength.

And I was more than glad to share what I had in reserve with him. He held his face in his hands, weeping silently.

He didn't cry even when I revealed the truth of my past life to him, I thought sadly, being what pillar of support I could. But this… This was the breaking point.

As I stood by his side, I pondered the strange nature of my relationships in this world. I wondered about that painful and beautiful push and pull of love and sorrow that underlaid everything.

I would see this war through. There would be enough of Arthur left at the end of it all. For Mom, Dad, Ellie, Tessia, and Sylvie.

And for a moment, the crown on my head felt lighter.