Decisions

The timing couldn’t be worse.

Nowe saw the explosion reach for the shattered sky like a fountain of fire. It didn’t look like magic, but an alchemical concoction that made the flames black instead of red. She could only guess what faction caused the disturbance, but her gut told her it was the same group responsible for her allies getting arrested.

And at a crucial moment too.

Damn it all.

She crouched next to the shadow of a large crate as several knights of the royal guard passed her by.

It was too bad about Kyr Solian, but did Leatrix really go back unharmed?

Why was Nowe late? Why was she always too late?

*

The scarred knight frowned when he saw Kyr and his horn. The man's armor was similar to how Kyr remembered them; slender and silver, with a streak of gold across the breastplate. The disk on the back of his helmet, however, was slightly different. It had an orange sheen to it, mimicking the glow of the sun.

Pretentious, alright.

“What was that explosion?” Cinza said, as if panicking. “Saboteurs from Kelasia? Or Luminas? Oh dear, I heard those barbarians have an army south of—”

The knight drew his sword, ignoring the butler. “You can’t be,” he spat in Kyr’s direction. “The news from Serenti Prison… and this inquisitor… you’re the bloody Hero Killer!”

Leatrix said they locked the warden and his reapers in their own prison, but apparently that didn’t buy them time at all.

Kyr clenched his teeth.

Before he could do something, mana bubbled to his right, followed by a blast of fire in the direction of the knight.

Roy’s magic.

The knight blocked the magic with his sword. When the flames expired, his weapon was revealed to be half glass on the blunt side. It glowed brightly in azure, crackling with sparks. 

“How did you escape?” the knight bellowed. “What are you doing in Esmerand?”

“There’s a good explanation for this!” Leatrix tried to get between them, but the knight already dashed in Kyr’s direction.

Roy summoned fire again, and Kyr didn’t even know how Cinza got two daggers out.

When the knight swung his sword in a great arc, lightning trailing behind his blade, Kyr pulled the weapon’s mana and diverted it towards Roy’s fire. The two magics exploded and the knight’s sword struck the floor in a loud clang.

Cinza then hit the confused knight with two quick stabs at his shoulder armor, cutting its harness. The pauldrons slackened to his arms.

The knight cursed and clumsily tried to elbow Cinza. The so-called butler easily caught the attack and held the knight’s left arm in a tight grip.

Kyr packed his right fist full of mana… and sent an uppercut straight to the knight's scarred chin. The man fell on his back in a loud thud… and was completely knocked out.

Cinza whistled.

That might’ve been too much force than Kyr intended.

“What were you thinking, Roy!” Leatrix demanded. “We could’ve talked this out first! He’s a royal guard!”

“B-But I thought…” Roy stammered. “He had his sword drawn!”

“I think we can leave it there, milady,” Cinza said. He went towards the table and fetched Leatrix’s sword. “I have a feeling our group’s been compromised anyway. I doubt we can afford to wait here.”

Leatrix clicked her tongue. “Fine. Let’s go before the other knights returned. We’ll figure out what happened to the others later.”

“The knight recognized you,” Cinza said, “and the prison already sent riders about what happened. Without the princess’ backing, the royal guard will descend on us like hawks if we stay in the capital. I fear they might even go for your older brother.”

“I’ll think of something,” Leatrix said, then she looked at Kyr. “Apologies, Master Sorcerer. I promise you we had a plan.”

“I did too seven years ago,” Kyr said with a shrug. “And you can just call me Kyr.” He turned to Roy. “As for you, your mana manipulation had gotten very fast. But try not to get too excited.”

The junior sorcerer grumbled.

They grabbed whatever supplies they could then left the manor in haste.

But their escape was short lived.

A group of knights was quick to spot them leaving, followed by another explosion somewhere north. They had no choice but to run.

Curfew was apparently strict, so the moonlit streets of Esmerand were barren, and all the doors were shut tight. Hiding while being pursued was not an option.

“There they are!”

“Cut them off from the other side!”

“Over there!”

The chase reminded Kyr of the trouble he used to get into as a kid. He lived in an orphanage before he moved to attend the academy, but wherever he went, he always found himself running away from something.

Even during his time as a guardian, Aven would often get themselves in ridiculous situations that made them run for their lives. Beasts, bandits, even drunken men in taverns. Though that last one was usually Radon or Vysa’s fault.

Kyr did his best to disrupt the mana of the knights in pursuit, tripping them or knocking objects about. But his tricks wouldn’t last forever, and his physical strength was waning very easily.

“I think… we should just… fight back…” Roy said, gasping for breath as he ran next to Kyr. “Where are… we even… going?”

“Our second safehouse is a no go,” Cinza said. “So it’s either we head for the Ryhart manor in the upper palisades or out of the city!”

“Did you say… upper… palisades?” Roy asked incredulously. “I don’t think… I can climb anything… at the moment!”

Either place was too far. They only just reached the commercial district as Kyr recognized the east side of Castle Vastillia in the middle of the city; red with tons of pointy roofs. Wherever they decided to go, they needed to move far away from that.

They chose the eastern gates.

Assuming they could actually escape into the wilderness beyond the city, they’d still need to get supplies before they headed for the Spire of Knowledge.

“That’s our first destination after we meet with the princess,” Leatrix explained earlier. “Irenea found a way to reopen the seal after the current hero conquered it. We think it’s important to learn of what transpired there six years ago before we help the hero at the final spire.”

“You think we’ll find a clue about this… Specter?” Kyr asked.

“I think we’ll have to,” Leatrix replied. “Whoever’s sabotaging the prophecy is delaying the hero’s progress.”

Going to the Spire of Knowledge meant learning the truth of Aven’s killer.

But if they couldn’t meet with the princess, then they have no choice but to head straight to the Spire of Resolve.

Even if Kyr helped the new hero conquer it, they’d probably arrest him on the spot afterwards. He heard Radon, Jessa and Vysa were guardians to this Ilara as well. They’d just betray him again.

And that was assuming the tower gets cleared in the first place.

What choice should Kyr make?

Wait or proceed?

Knowledge or Resolve?

He could also just… let the world burn. Let the numbers run their course.

Like Roy said this morning, it wasn’t even certain the world would actually end. That’s just what the legends said.

Yet the legends also talked about dangerous beasts and a poisoned land. Which was happening to the continent right now.

But so what?

Why was he even running here?

With his power, he could simply destroy everything in his way.

Why don't he just… rage.

Hate.

Just like in his prison of utter solitude. All the pain he endured… why not let it out?

Kyr gritted his teeth. He was feeling better just a while ago.

But how long will this freedom last?

He closed his eyes and unsurprising to him, Aven appeared. His friend looked… disappointed.

…

“Did I, though?” Aven said in a past memory. It was near the beginning of their journey when their group had their first fight. “Well, it’s fine to be upset every now and then. We’re human, after all. Give it time. Breathe and think about what you have. Who you have around you. If… you have none… the best time to start looking is always now.” Aven grinned. “I can think of five others pretty easily. Starting with the one you’re talking to!”

Kyr broke into a smile.

“Oh, and Kyr?”

“Don’t forget to always look up.”

Kyr opened his eyes did just that. No, not too high to see the shattered sky, but high enough to see a woman standing at the end of the road, huffing and out of breath.

She wore a short-sleeved white tunic with an armored vest on top, loose trousers, and knee-high boots. Her honey-colored hair was done in a ponytail-like braid adorned with small ribbons. Upon her round face was a pair of large spectacles.

It was a familiar face, though clearly, she was wearing her favorite disguise.

“I made it,” the woman said. “Late… but not too late.”

Nowe.

Or as she was more commonly known in these parts… Princess Irenea Vastillia.