Covenant (8)

Under the lamp, Barcus led the way through the streets with his rifle bouncing against his shoulder. Maden walked beside Valan, one hand resting casually on his sabre's pommel.

They were in a small commerce subdistrict, several blocks away from the town square. Unlike other areas, this place was quiet at night, but at day this place was as bustling as the others—as Valan had researched it before.

"So you're interested about Weldphal, eh?" Barcus glanced back at Valan. "What's in it for you?"

"My niece will be enrolled there," Valan said. "I want to see where she'll be spending her time."

"Bit of a weird time to visit though? Middle of the night and all."

"Let's just say I prefer a night view over day."

"Course, course." Maden nodded. Though he put a degrading look, as if he thought Valan was a weirdo.

"About Weldphal—it's not all fancy robes and spell-casting."

"Oh?" Valan adjusted his dandy persona, letting curiosity color his voice. "What makes you say that?"

Maden chuckled. "Politics, mostly. You know the deal: students jockeying for position, professors playing favorites, all that nonsense."

"The new headmaster now keeps a tight ship though," Barcus added, stepping around a puddle. "She's a woman you don't want to mess with. They say she's one of the strongest arcanists in the country."

Valan had known this from his research, but he feigned ignorance. "Really?"

"Earned every bit of it too." Maden's voice carried genuine respect. "Used to hunt demons during her days in the Royal Corps. Real nasty ones, from what I hear."

"Shame what happened to her though," Barcus said, his voice dropping. "Got herself an injury during one of those demon hunts. Had to be discharged from the Royal Corps."

"What kind of injury?" Valan asked.

"Nobody talks about it much," Maden replied, lowering his voice as they passed under another streetlamp. "But word is it affects her arcane abilities. Can't cast some spells like she used to—still plenty dangerous though."

"Must be frustrating," Valan said. "Going from hunting demons to managing teenagers."

Maden barked out a laugh. "You'd think so, but apparently she's good at it. Students respect her, professors listen to her. Maybe dealing with demons prepared her for dealing problems in Weldphal."

"Different kind of monsters," Barcus said with a grin.

They turned onto a broader avenue lined with impressive storefronts. Compared to other districts Valan had walked so far, the central district was clearly well-maintained.

"What about the students themselves?" Valan asked something he truly wanted to know. "Any interesting people I should know about?"

"Well, there's talk about some… high-profile admissions this year." Maden filled in.

"Hoo." Valan kept his tone casual.

"Three dukes in the kingdom are sending their kids to Weldphal this term" Barcus added.

"Three? That's quite the coincidence."

"Not really coincidence when you think about it," Maden replied. "I know the Royal Academy is making a rise, but Weldphal is still the most prestigious academy in the kingdom. Makes sense some nobles would want their children there."

"What are they like?" Valan asked.

Barcus grimaced. "From what we hear? Duke Hanzir's son—Darda—is supposed to be a trash person—excuse the language. Kid's got a reputation for making life hell for anyone he thinks is beneath him."

Valan found it amusing that Barcus used such remarks. Maybe it was the influence.

"And the other boy?"

"Duke Lamwel's son. Complete opposite—bookworm type. Supposedly brilliant, but keeps to himself. Heard he can recite entire book from memory."

"The girl though," Maden whistled low. "Duke Almidia's daughter. You surely know her."

"No." Valan was honest.

"The national champion of the middle-school arcane tournaments?" Maden raised his voice a bit in disbelief. "Beat Princess Lorrenfeld in the finals—and that girl's no slouch herself."

"Sounds impressive."

The conversation was proving more valuable than Valan had hoped—especially those names he'd heard.

"Right then," Maden grinned. "Speaking of which, what should we call you? We can't say you that well-dressed masked fellow, can we?"

Valan paused. "You might say I'm just the hidden hand of fate."

Both guards stopped walking and stared at him.

"The what now?" Barcus raised an eyebrow.

Maden burst out laughing. "What is this, some theatrical performance? You sound like one of those traveling drama troupes that come through during festival season."

"Come off it, mate," Barcus shook his head with amusement. "This isn't a stage, and we're not your audience. Though I'll give you points for style."

Valan shrugged. "What about an arcane trick?"

"Theatrics are all well and good," Maden laughed as they resumed walking, "but people might notice you as a—"

The sharp crack of gunfire split the night air.

Valan and the others froze, their heads turning toward the sound's source. In the distance, shouts echoed off the buildings, followed by the rumble of hoofbeats.

"A horse chase?" Barcus muttered, bearing his rifle steady. "That sound came from the town square."

More shots rang out, closer now. The sound of galloping horses grew louder, accompanied by the distinctive whistle of arcane spells being discharged.

"There!" Maden pointed down the avenue.

A lone horseman burst around the corner three blocks away, his mount moving with unnatural speed. Even at this distance, Valan could sense a trace of arcane around the horse's hooves. The rider wore a dark mask and cloak that whipped behind him.

Behind him came the pursuit—at least six mounted guards, their own horses straining to match the masked rider's pace. Sparks flew from their mounts' shoes as they rounded the corner.

"BRING HIM DOWN! BRING HIM DOWN!"

The lead pursuer raised his rifle and fired. The shot went wide, chipping stone from a building's corner.

"Get closer!" another guard shouted, urging his mount forward.

The masked rider weaved between the streetlamps. One of the chasers dropped his reins and extended his palm. Red light gathered in his hand before he hurled a fireball. The spell sailed over the masked rider's head and exploded against a shop window, showering the street with shattered glass and flame.

"Shit, he's coming this way," Barcus observed, checking his rifle's action.

"We have to help!" Maden declared, drawing his sabre.

Barcus took aim at the approaching horseman. "Step aside!"

Valan moved fast toward the sidewalk. He decided not to involve himself needlessly.

"Stop!" Barcus shouted. "By order of the Glendione Townguards!"

The masked rider showed no signs of slowing.

"Last warning!" Maden called out, raising his sabre overhead.

The masked leaned lower over his mount's neck, clearly intent on running them down.

Maden brought his sabre down in a sharp arc. "Sonic strike!"

A crescent of compressed air shot toward the horseman, the attack shrieking through the night like a banshee's wail.

Unexpectedly, the strike shattered against what looked like an arcane shield in.

Barcus fired his rifle. The bullet struck the same shield.

"Dammit!" Barcus muttered, working his rifle's bolt to chamber another round. Unlike Maden, Barcus was a blank—people who couldn't use arcane. Hence, he relied on a rifle—just like other blanks in the guards did.

As the masked rider flashed past their position, behind his mask, the rider's eyes met Valan's for just an instant.

The moment passed in a heartbeat, and the horseman was gone, continuing down the avenue with his pursuers close behind.

"You two! The shout came from one of the mounted guards who had stopped his horse as the others went by. "Who's that masked man?!"

"They're just helping me, sir," Valan called out. "These gentlemen were kind enough to provide directions."

"At this hour? In that brazen outfit?" The officer looked skeptical. "Do you know who—"

"I don't know about the person you're chasing, officer. I have no idea."

The officer's horse pranced impatiently beneath him. "Find a safe place to hide! We have a serious situation right now," the officer snapped at Barcus and Maden. "Both of you, come! We need every man to take that bastard. Report to Lt. Hagel and he'll fill you the situation."

"Yes sir!" both guards responded in unison.

The officer spurred his horse and galloped away, leaving the three men behind.

Barcus and Maden exchanged glances, then looked at Valan.

"Sorry to cut your tour short, buddy," Maden said apologetically. "But duty calls."

"I understand."

"Remember, just go straight until you find the main boulevard, then turn right and from there just keep follow it through. You'll find Weldphal eventually."

"Thank you. Be safe, both of you."

"Right then, we're off!" Barcus called over his shoulder as he broke into a run.

The two guards disappeared around the corner. Within moments, Valan found himself alone on the empty street. His mind got entangled by the pursuit before.

Valan wondered what just happened there. he wished he knew all the details about the situation, like what had happened and why they chased the masked rider. But the townguards wouldn't just reveal anything to civilians. It was just the rule to protect the integrity of the case.

He then weighed whether he should continue his plan towards Weldphal or not. An increased presence of townguards might not be ideal for him—and before he knew it, some might accuse him as the masked rider's accomplice.

All because of the damn mask.