Chapter 4 - The Holy King

When I awoke, I knew it was not - could not have been - a dream.

It was the absence that struck me first. The familiar, scratching pain at the back of the throat - the slow-burning ache in the gut I'd sworn to get checked out, as soon as my next wage-chit cleared - the frozen shoulder that ached all the way to the bone…

Gone, all of them. As if they'd never been.

There was no dizziness, none of that blank confusion that comes with an unexpected waking. I merely opened my eyes, and was.

A cold, clear mineral smell hung in the air - Stone. My gaze focused on the slate-grey ceiling above, the steady light of lanterns illuminating the chamber, as I stirred.

Where…? I thought, aware of the straw of the pallet beneath me, the blanket someone had drawn over my form. It was an actual bed, which surprised me somewhat; I pressed my fingers to my temples, more out of habit than necessity, trying to work out how I'd got here.

I remembered…

Someone had dressed me in a soft, off-white tunic, with blue thread at the shoulders and wrist. It felt cool but not cold, linen instead of the cheap synthetic 'fabrics' we'd been receiving ever since the West Dome was breached.

Actual cloth. How long had it been since I’d last seen it?

With a start, I realized that my armor was gone. A moment's panic revealed that it stood on a stand, gleaming as if freshly polished. The Interfector's sheathed blade leaned against it, my belt draped over it like a garland.

Relief, stark and all-consuming, enveloped me. Wherever I was, I wasn't a prisoner.

Not yet.

As I was still processing this, a door opened, off and to the side. I looked up, as a man entered; Blue eyes widened in mild surprise, straight blonde hair framing well-favored, honest features. He carried a tray with him, a wooden bowl from which a fragrant scent rose.

My stomach rumbled. How long had it been since I'd last eaten?

"Ah," he said. "Awake, I see. How are you feeling?"

"I-" I began, all the questions jumbled up in my head. I seized at the first one that came to mind.

"Lady Arisa," I said. "Is she…?"

The healer smiled. "She's well. And, dare I say, she'll be happy to hear that. You were asleep for a full day - I must admit, we fully expected you to sleep for longer."

He approached the bed, holding the tray out. "Here. You seem hearty enough, but you must be famished. Merely corn gruel, I'm afraid...Still, I'm assured it's good for the constitution."

Real corn, not resyk. Real salt, too. It was piping hot, but I didn't care; I barely remembered to nod my thanks, before I set to it. It was the best thing I'd ever tasted, since…

-I couldn't remember.

The healer watched me with a kind of gentle amusement, seemingly surprised - but oddly gratified - by my appetite. It wasn't long before the wooden spoon was scraping the bottom of the bowl, as I tipped it back to drain the dregs; There was a flask of cool, clean water - a sharp mineral taste - and I drained that, too.

"There's more, if you need it," he said, and I shook my head. Pushed my hair back from my eyes.

"Thank you, but...Where am I?" I looked around. "The last thing I remember, I was in the column…"

"This place? We call it the Hollow Mountain. The headquarters of the Dawnward Legion." He smiled, a smile that seemed somehow sad. "Call it...a fallback. A bastion, if you will." He shook his head. "Never, in all my days, did I think it would be used. A time of change, indeed."

He drew a slow breath. Shook his head, as if banishing the thought.

"You are...Sir Gabriel, are you not? Of the Order of Arcadia, I've been reliably informed."

He canted his head to one side, his expression curious. "You'll forgive me, but - I'm not familiar with your Order..."

I swallowed. "Don't be. I'm...the last of my kind."

I was wrong, but I couldn't possibly have known then.

"Ah," he said. "The heraldry, then…?"

"My brother's," I said, and he nodded. His eyes urged me to go on. "The armor is - was - his."

And so was everything else.

He nodded. Understanding spread across those honest, compassionate features. "I understand," he said, his gaze going momentarily distant. "I know how...hard it can be, to lose kin. Sometimes - It feels like the sun has gone out."

A hollow laugh. He cleared his throat, busying himself with rearranging the empty bowl and flask on the tray, setting them to the side. At length, he spoke again.

"I must confess, you've rather piqued my curiosity. Word travels fast - they say Commander Sabrine and her expedition were saved by a most fortuitous arrival. And, well...I had to see for myself. If you would care to satisfy my curiosity…?"

Fortuitous. I'd never heard anyone use a word like that before.

"I'm…" I began, a little uncertain. "I'll try, but...I'm not sure how much I can tell you."

He shrugged. "No doubt. We all have our secrets, certainly. Still...Lady Arisa spoke of you in glowing terms." A brief smile - "...And I've never known her to warm up to anyone, except the Holy Queen. Even then, they always had their differences…"

"The Holy Queen?" I asked, like an idiot. The healer winced, waved a hand. "Pay it no mind. I misspoke - Rumor, that's all. At any rate..." Those blue eyes fixed on me. "You saw the camps for yourself, did you not? What was it like?"

"It was…" I began. "I-"

It felt like my tongue had been glued to the top of my mouth. I struggled for the words-

And at last-

"Imagine your worst nightmare," I said, finally. "Then, scream as loud as you can."

He nodded, that gaze never wavering. When he breathed out, it was like he was bracing against an invisible burden, one bowing his shoulders. "So I've heard," he muttered. "So I've heard."

A fragment of memory flared.

"There was...in the camps," I said, slowly. "A...merchant, I think. Gospel."

"Gospel?"

"Yes," I said. For a moment, I felt like I'd put my foot into quicksand, but forged ahead. "He said - Someone had to get the word out. The Holy King had to be told." Inspiration struck - "I...I don't know anyone here. But if you could get word to the King - You have to tell him. They're eating people there. Like livestock, like…"

My voice trailed off. I wasn't sure I had the words.

"I've heard similar sentiments," he said. "The Holy King, I fear, has other concerns to consider."

"Other concerns-" I echoed, almost choking on the words. "I saw people being butchered. Impaled on poles, cut up for sacrifice…" My voice was rising, I realized, and I fought to keep it level.

"I don't claim to see the whole picture," I said, at last. "But - Something's got to be done. The Holy King might have his reasons, but...Caius said this was one of the smaller camps. If they're all like this, every day means it's too late for someone."

The healer's gaze was distant, abstracted. He cupped his chin, and was silent for a long, long moment.

"This...'Gospel'," he said - "What happened to him?"

"He…" I realized that I hadn't actually seen him die. "-He was killed in the breakout. He was very brave," I added, belatedly. "I only knew him for an hour or so."

He winced. "A tragedy," he said. "Marquis Barden will be much grieved. Still, war itself is a tragedy." A sigh - "As it happens, Commander Sabrine said much the same thing. She was most...adamant...about our future course of action. Still, I wonder if..."

I waited, but he didn't look like he was about to go on.

"-I'd like to help," I said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed?"

I gestured at Gabriel's armor, at his sword. "There's a lot that I don't know," I said. "But...After what I've seen, I can't just sit back and do nothing. I've got some skill with the sword - That has to mean something, right?"

He considered this. "Some skill," he echoed. A faint smile on his lips. "You have a talent for understatement, I see. Did you truly fight the Manflayer?"

I nodded. In all the confusion of the retreat and the shock of awakening I'd almost forgotten. "I suppose I did," I said. "Would that be enough?"

"It might be. Still, it's rare to see a swordsman of your stature without other commitments-"

"I'm not from Dhala," I said. I didn't even know what that was. "I'm…I don't know how to prove it. But I'm not."

He gave me a long, thoughtful look. "I believe you," he said, at length. "Lady Arisa might be disappointed to hear that she's wrong, however." A soft chuckle - "Then again, I expect it will come as something of a relief to her."

He stood up. "Still, I've been thoughtless. You need rest, Sir Gabriel, and I shall weary you no longer. Here you can have peace, and - in the morning - I believe Commander Sabrine wishes to speak with you."

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm-"

I tried to stand, but a wave of fatigue passed over me again. He nodded, knowingly, and turned to go. It occurred to me that I still didn't know his name, or who he was. I asked, and he paused in the stone doorway.

"As to that," he said. "I am Prince Valerius Aurenthos Iustarion, brother to Queen Seraphina Iustarion." He bowed. "Alas, in my sister's absence, I have taken on her mantle...So you may address me as the Holy King."

I stared. "Wha-"

"Good night, Sir Gabriel, and have a pleasant rest. There are servants within call, if you need them."

And with that, he was gone. Leaving me staring at the doorway, and feeling like something of an idiot.

Next: The Sisters Radiant