Chapter 4: The Pool

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Shannon asked worriedly, trying to offer Valia her shoulder to lean on.

“Yes, I’m fine. I need this. If I don’t get out of bed and walk on my own two feet, my muscles will melt, and I’ll never regain my strength,” she replied, trying to hide her fatigue. She had run almost nonstop for weeks to get from Welindar to Colbrand, but now, just walking from her home to the palace was taking all her strength. “What did you call this, Noah? Physical therapy?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s an important stage of healing, especially for the injuries you’ve suffered. But don’t push yourself too hard, otherwise it’ll do more harm than good.”

“More harm than good? Having you with me in the War Room might do that.”

“Seeing as how Adwith Tarnas has finally returned, I should greet him as a fellow gold-rank knight. Besides, almost every gold-rank knight in the country is attending this meeting, and we need to get on the same page regarding the Profane.”

“Just please try not to cause trouble.”

“I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

They arrived at the palace, and Noah and Valia flashed their emblems so the guards would let them enter. They walked the corridors towards the War Room, reminding Noah of his first visit. It was just after the Red Revelry, when all of his fellow cadets had been injured by the onslaught of bounty hunters roaming the city in search of him. Just one year ago, he entered as an academy cadet, and was now returning a gold-rank knight.

They paused at the door, and Valia turned to Shannon. “Down the hall is the waiting room for squires and attendants. You’ll have to stay there during the meeting.”

Shannon appeared dejected, but obeyed. She left Valia and Noah and went to the waiting room, finding it full of men and women garbed in polished armor and spotless uniforms. These were the trusted subordinates of the greatest knights in the kingdom, putting abundant effort into maintaining their appearance and that of their superiors to exude an aura of strength and dignity. Shannon, her horse ears and tail on display and wearing the clothes of her tribe, stood out like a sore thumb, and she could see it on their faces. Embarrassment and shame flooded her momentarily, but she shook those feelings aside and raised her chin. She had earned the right to serve Lady Valia and Lord Noah, earned the right to stand at their side, having fought with them against the might and horrors of the Profane.

“Good morning,” she said with a brisk nod before taking an open seat.

Back in the War Room, Noah and Valia were facing a similar reception. Noah, a former criminal and enemy of the state, and Valia, the seasoned knight who had abandoned her duties and fled the country with him. There were many faces that Noah didn’t recognize, gold-rank knights who were absent when he was here before, most of them glaring indignantly. And at the end of the table, shooting daggers from his one eye, was the legend himself, Adwith Tarnas. The last time Noah and Tarnas faced each other, a fiery barrier separated them, with the broken and bloody Prince Seraph lying nearby. Tarnas had sworn he’d kill Noah, but now they found themselves working together. At least Gradius was absent—a small blessing.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” one dark-haired man muttered.

“Dragon. For me, it’s “look what the dragon dragged in,” but don’t dwell on it,” said Noah. “Sir Elyot, Sir Aithorn,” he then greeted with a nod.

“Sir Noah.”

“Lord Noah.”

The two greeted him in kind, but Aithorn’s words caused a tremor. He always addressed fellow gold-rank knights with professional courtesy, but the respect in his voice had only ever been heard when he spoke to Tarnas.

“What is this lord business?” General Delta grumbled.

“I am a Sylphtorian lord, having earned the trust and friendship of Queen Elisandra and the elves.”

“And why would the elves trust someone like you?” a blonde woman asked coldly.

“You would be amazed by how helpful I can be when I’m not foolishly antagonized,” said Noah as he and Valia walked around the table to a pair of empty chairs and sat down. “You may not trust me as an ally of Uther, but you can trust me as an ally of Sylphtoria, making me an enemy of the Profane, same as all of you.”

“This coming from the man whose Profane whore killed the king,” said Berholm.

“Ah, Sir Berholm, good to see you. I had heard you were grievously wounded in the battle, but I’m glad you’re still with us. We’ll need your strength and wisdom for what is to come. I had nothing to do with Bella’s actions. She was driven by obsession and twisted by the power of the Profane. What happened to the king is tragic and serves as a perfect warning for the kind of enemies we’ll be facing. Look, I didn’t come here to argue. The Profane have their sights set on world domination, and we can’t waste time and energy squabbling amongst each other.”

“You have a lot of nerve to come here, acting so flippantly, especially after what you did to the prince,” Tarnas growled. Noah sighed. It didn’t seem like things could be glossed over, so he might as well bring it out into the open.

“Yes, that’s right, how is Seraph doing? Have you rebuilt him into a respectable warrior after I demolished that useless monolith of ego that stood before?”

“Noah...” Valia muttered, sensing the rising bloodlust in the room.

“I held him accountable for his crimes and taught him humility. Galvin murdered and maimed two dozen of his own citizens trying to kill me, and Seraph knew what he was doing and felt no need to stop him. Were they not royalty, they’d be kicking at the end of a rope. He was a catastrophe just waiting to happen, and I undid years of coddling and praise. You should be thanking me for letting him keep his life and giving him a chance to start over and live properly. If you’ve done your job right, hopefully, now he’s become a man with some backbone. So I ask again, how is he doing?”

“After he woke up from what you did to him, his powers were gone. I’ve spent the last year training with him out in the wild, and he’s barely regained a fraction of his original magic. He was our greatest weapon against the Profane, and you broke him.”

“Disappointing, though I’m holding out hope that he can still become the warrior you believe him to be. But enough about that. I have skills to contribute to this effort, and possess no ill will towards your country. Once we vanquish our shared enemy, I’ll move on to greener pastures, and you’ll be free of me. Until then, if not for Uther, then for the sake of professionalism, let’s try to work together and get this job done.”

“Noah and I spent eight months with Prince Lupin, helping him fight the Profane,” said Valia. “We’ve seen their strength up close, and the lasting damage they leave behind. Welindar has been rendered utterly toxic, saturated with dark energy that kills and corrupts all life. I don’t know if it can ever be repopulated. They’ve developed a method to turn humans and beastmen into quasi-Profane using special parasites that produce unholy venom, and have remade Handent into a farm to cultivate their ranks.”

“And now Lupin is dead, and you expect us to trust you,” said General Delta.

“Lupin was my friend. He and I fought side-by-side against Kaisen the Liger, a powerful beastman warrior who was turned into the ultimate fiend. During the battle, we split up. Lupin could no longer fight, so I left him with his healer, Nell, while I went to finish off Kaisen with my companion, Shannon. She delivered the finishing blow, but though we broke his body, his mind refused to die. The strength of his resolve is almost commendable. An explosion of dark energy swallowed the city, turning all of its inhabitants into the monsters that marched on Colbrand as per Kaisen’s will. If Lupin didn’t die in the explosion, he was turned into one of the beasts and killed by the Wassengel.”

“The Profane have already tried to destroy Sylphtoria,” said Valia, “but the elves are ready for war and standing by. They will fight alongside Uther, but we need a plan and strong leadership. What is King Galvin doing about the Profane?”

“If we spread our forces too thin trying to protect wild territory, the Profane will tear through us,” said Tarnas. “He’s ordered the legions to fall back to more secure areas and to bolster a solid defense. He’s spoken of building a wall lined with garrisons, but the time and resources it would take, even with magic, doesn’t make it feasible. A chain of forts and watchtowers are being constructed to defend against another horde and will slowly be improved. Handent is vast, and we don’t have the manpower to expunge the Profane, even with Sylphtoria and Vandheim helping us.”

“What is Vandheim’s stance on the issue?” Noah asked.

“They’re too busy dealing with their own internal issues to help with the Profane,” said Berholm. “Until a fiend army is on their doorstep, we shouldn’t expect them to invest much attention.”

“So for now, all we can do is remain on the defense, correct?” the blonde female knight pondered. “But the longer we wait, the more powerful they’ll become. What happens when they send another army to sweep across the countryside while staying out of range of the Wassengel?”

“Can the Wassengel leave the ocean and move inland?” Noah asked. Everyone exchanged glances, not sure of the answer.

“Colbrand is built on Enochian ruins, and the Wassengel was a defensive weapon they used for protection,” said Elyot. “Our human predecessors simply woke it up and managed to unlock the means to control it, but we shouldn’t put our hopes on sending it to the front line.”

“The dragon I rode here on, Roroaka, called it an angel, one of a handful of elemental beings that fell to this world during the Age of Enochians. They are sentient, but their thought processes are a mystery. For all we know, it’s not being controlled, but simply chooses to answer the call, and that might change. It’s a good defense against invasion, but I worry what could happen if it is repeatedly used.”

“And what of the dragon? Can we count on him to help us?” Aithorn asked.

“He told me that he has no intention of aligning himself with any king or country. He’s no ally of the Profane, but unless his territory is threatened, he won’t to get involved. I believe I can convince him to help us if the situation is dire enough, but we should consider him only as a last resort.”

“Even if we can’t face the Profane, army against army, is there any way to take out their leadership?” the dark-haired man asked.

“From what I understand, they have a mobile base where the bulk of their experimentation occurs, but I’ve been unable to track down any details, such as how it works or where it is currently. Even if we did know, it would take a month just to get to Welindar. Pursuing them just isn’t feasible at the moment. If we had a way to find and reach it quickly, we could invade and break the back of their operation. For now, we have to wait for them to come to us.”

“Why do you care so much about the Profane?” Berholm asked. “From what I’ve heard, isn’t this world just one of countless others? You’re just a tourist, aren’t you?”

“For one thing, they’re a nuisance with a bad habit of getting in my way. That said, I know an existential threat when I see one, and time and time again, I’ve watched fools bicker amongst each other while the threat grows, if they’re even smart enough not to bury their heads in the sand and call it a hoax. I’m used to it, used to watching doom rain down upon the world because those in charge couldn’t see six inches in front of their faces, and yet I still find it annoying. Normally, I’d just leave these worlds to their fates and die with the rest of humanity, unless saving them would entertain me, but I have a vested interest in the survival of this planet and its people.

You’ve all heard my story; you’ve been told what I am, how long I’ve lived, and just a few things I’ve lived through. I am not some drifter from a backwater village up north. I’m older than your country, and I’ve seen, done, and endured things beyond your comprehension. I’m willing to share my knowledge, skills, and expertise with you so that you don’t all die. You may not like me, you may not trust me, but I’ll do what I can to save your world. That said, defeating the Profane is only my third priority. My second is finding Valon, and my first is breaking my curse. At the moment, Valia and I are waiting for her to fully heal so we can continue our journey. However, when we do depart, I’d like to have left you prepared and ready to face this threat.”

Elsewhere in the palace, another reunion was taking place.

“Welcome, Brother,” said Galvin, hugging Seraph.

“Good to see you, Galvin,” replied Seraph. He was more soft-spoken than at their last meeting, and struggled to make eye contact, even with his brother. Galvin, on the other hand, was all smiles.

“You look good. Training in the countryside has done you well. I trust you’ve returned to us with a clear mind and refocused determination.”

“Y-y-yes. I see you’ve also h-healed,” Seraph nervously stammered.

Throughout the throne room, the royal guards bit their tongues. Seraph didn’t appear intimidated by Galvin, but he was still on edge, looking around like a mouse about to cross an open field.

“The wonders of magic and potions. Unfortunately, I can’t heal the way you do, but I am whole again.” He then turned to a nearby maid. “Bring us some drinks, will you? My brother and I wish to celebrate our reunion. Wine for him and tea for me, if you would.”

The way Galvin spoke and smiled stood out to Seraph, no longer hearing the disdain and arrogance that usually dripped from his brother’s words. He had never noticed it before, but now its absence was impossible to ignore. He was actually being polite. The maid bowed and departed to get their drinks.

Galvin then turned to one of the guards. “Leave us.”

The guards all exited the throne room, leaving Galvin and Seraph alone.

“Come, please, tell me of your training,” he said as he returned to the throne. Eased by Galvin’s pleasant mood, Seraph’s anxiety began to fade.

“Tarnas and I spent the last year in the wilderness, hunting and training. We’d spar, fight monsters with our bare hands, swim upstream in roaring rivers, and climb sheer cliffs to meditate at the peaks of mountains. When we left, my magic was completely gone. Over time, some of it began to return, but I’m nothing like I was before. I’m still broken.”

“Nonsense. You were born to be the greatest paladin who ever lived. You’re in a slump, but you will climb out of it.”

“I’m not so sure. Look.” Seraph pulled down his collar, revealing the spot on his chest where he once bore the sigil of Lumendori. His birthmark, originally so clear and distinctive, had almost completely faded away like an old scar. “I’ve lost my title as Light’s Emissary. God has turned his back on me, and rightfully so. I’m not worthy of such power. I never was.”

“But our dream is finally being realized. Remember? The future we spoke of? I on the throne, and you leading the grand armies of Uther? That time has finally come. We simply need to grow into our roles. Father and Lupin are gone, and we must honor them by living up to their example. All we have now is each other, but that’s all we’ve ever needed.”

The maid returned, carrying a tray with a goblet of wine and a mug of fragrant tea. “Your Majesty,” she said while bowing, presenting the tea to Galvin and the goblet to Seraph.

“Thank you,” Galvin said with a smile. She smiled in return and departed.

“I can smell that tea from all the way over here, like an apothecary jamming his fingers up my nose,” said Seraph with a small chuckle.

“All part of the healing process. I have to drink it multiple times a day. I used to hate the taste, but it’s grown on me. How is the wine?”

Seraph took a deep gulp and sighed. “More delicious than I remember.” He then stared at the cup. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, think about us, how we used to be, how we lived. Brother, do we really deserve this? I remember the things we did, the crimes we committed while saying we were above such things because of our bloodline and power. We were monsters. How can we possibly live up to Father and Lupin’s examples with so much blood on our hands?”

“We cannot undo the past, but we can devote ourselves to building a brighter future. That is our penance: the burden of responsibility for this country. May it hang on our shoulders with crushing weight.”

“And N-N-N-Noah, is he here in the city?” Seraph asked fearfully.

A muscle spasm shot through Galvin, the left side of his face twitching as though he was suffering from a stroke. “We do not say that name, and we do not talk about him, ever,” Galvin hissed, having lost his gentle confidence. Like Galvin, Seraph was trembling.

“I still have nightmares of what he did to me, of what he made me do. I know he’s here, in this castle. I’ve felt a chill since I arrived, like Death standing on my shadow. We deserve to suffer for what we’ve done, for the people we hurt and killed, but still, I’m so full of terror that I feel like I’m going to vomit it onto the floor. What if he comes for us again? What if he decides that it wasn’t enough? What if we do something else that angers him? I still see the flames every time I close my eyes.”

Galvin rushed over and grabbed Seraph by the shoulders. “Not another word, do you hear me?! Never say his name again! Don’t say it, don’t think it! Understand?!”

Seraph was fearful, having never seen Galvin like this. “Yes, I understand! I’m sorry!” The two separated, facing away from each other while they steadied their breath.

“Listen, what happened is in the past. Right now, we need to focus on the future. You think you’ve lost your strength, but I know it’s still in there, buried deep inside. I think I know how to bring it out, to prove to you and the world that you are still Light’s Emissary. Let me tell you about my tournament.”

In the coming days, Noah took a break from researching his curse and turned instead to training his magic. Though it had grown by leaps and bounds since he first gained it two years prior, its true nature still eluded him. Regardless of the techniques he used, he had yet to project a magical circle displaying the core rune of his power. Either his powers were still incomplete and had yet to form a true magic circle, or he simply couldn’t see it.

He went back to his original training method from Clive, draining himself of physical stamina using both his unique exercise routine and vigorous sex. Valia’s recovery was still slow-going, and she helped wherever she could, but it was Shannon who received most of his lust, and she took it like a champ. Each morning, the house would be filled with moans, loud enough to reach outside and redden the cheeks of all who heard it. Shannon had built enough endurance to withstand Noah’s dynamic technique, receiving his thrusts for hour after hour, but she still couldn’t keep up with him. He would always leave her in an orgasm-induced coma, her naked body drained of every iota of strength and lying sticky and slick with a patina of their shared fluids. For her, hard work was its own reward.

Once he had exhausted his physical stamina, Noah would experiment with his magic, figuring out new uses and forms and pushing his mana reserves to their limit. He could now create multiple clones, and was getting better at piloting them with minimal focus. He soon discovered that the kinds of clones he used would affect his abilities.

If he summoned a clone from a lifetime in which he specialized in an instrument, he could take advantage of muscle memory and synaptic pathways from that lifetime to have it play a song without dictating every movement. Rather than puppets on strings, he could use them as programmable apparitions. When performing at the Knight’s Sheath, he’d assemble a whole band of clones, each one from a life devoted to music. They’d play with perfect harmony, operating on autopilot. In the mornings, the house would echo with moans, and in the afternoon, it was flooded with music.

He also spent a great deal of time looking for clues as to Valon’s whereabouts. While in Welindar, he had questioned travelers and merchants from across the continent, trying to find even the hint of a rumor, but came up emptyhanded. Here in Colbrand, the process was the same, and unfortunately, so were the results. Dark elves were rare, and Valon’s power left an impression. One might think he’d easily stand out, but no one had seen him. Had he gone to the other side of the planet? Or was he hidden so deeply in the wilderness that only the gods could find him?

As summer approached, the city filled with warriors planning to enter the fighting tournament. Every year, they’d flow into the city to try and enroll in the knight academy, or to take part in the nightly festival of violence. This year, however, the streets were mostly quiet at night. Until now, the Red Revelry had been a warrior’s purge, where blood-drunk fighters would clash in the darkness for no reason other than the thrill. Now, with the tournament, they had a better outlet for their violent desires. Why go out at night, killing each other for nothing, when they could save their strength for the arena and earn the adoration of the crowd? It was a shame that King Leonard met his end before he could see the success of his plan.

One day, Noah arrived at the Knight’s Sheath to find some old classmates sharing a bottle of spirits.

“Gideon, Foley, I wondered when our paths would ever cross again.”

“Noah!” Foley boomed while raising his glass in celebration.

“Greetings. It’s been a while,” said Gideon with a nod.

Noah joined them at the counter. “Welcome back to Colbrand. I’m guessing you’re both here for the tournament?”

“Of course, how could I resist?” replied Gideon.

“The lord of my village promised me his daughter if I could make it to the finals,” said Foley. “She’s got an ass like a wine barrel and a big pair of cow tits, so I’m ready to fight anyone.”

“You heard about the tournament all the way in the Ashok Mountains?” Noah asked Gideon.

“We get traveling merchants visiting our villages, and they bring news of the outside world. I’ve spent the last year training, and I thought this tournament would be a good chance to test myself and see how far I’ve come.”

“How’s the arm?” Noah asked.

“You mean the stump where my arm used to be? Well, I’ve stopped getting the Phantom Limb thing you mentioned, but it’s still been a major adjustment. However, it has given me a new avenue of focus for my training. By the way, call me Roc, that’s my real name, unless I get into trouble, then I’m hoping being Sir Gideon will protect me.”

“We heard you were back in town and decided to stop by,” said Foley. “The Knight’s Sheath is as popular as ever, I see. Any chance you’re planning another big party like that one before? When I told my brothers about my role in that little “open house,” they threw a fit of jealousy and denial. Then, of course, once stories of you started floating about, my tales suddenly seemed less far-fetched, and I became a local hero of sorts.”

“I heard about your fight with Seraph,” said Roc. “A little over the top, but it’s about time someone knocked him off his pedestal. I’d like to take a crack at him for old times’ sake; let him see how much stronger I’ve gotten.”

“You may have a good chance. He’s lost most of his powers since I beat him, so it would be a fair fight,” said Noah. He expected Roc to be fired up by the good news, but, on the contrary, the one-armed warrior simply turned back to his mug with a grunt of disappointment.

“Are you taking part in the tournament too?” Foley asked.

“The prize doesn’t interest me, so I’m just a spectator. Do me a favor and put on a good show. Dance, my puppets, dance.”

“That’s a shame. The only one I want to fight as much as Seraph is you,” said Roc, flashing him a challenger’s glare.

“Well, we don’t need a tournament for that. I could go for some quick sparring if you’re interested.”

“Really?”

“Sure, I’ve got time. Show me how much you’ve improved.”

“Oh, I got to see this.”

Still carrying his mug, Foley followed Noah and Roc outside and behind the Knight’s Sheath, where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Let’s not take this too seriously. You don’t want to go into the arena already sporting bruises.”

“Don’t worry about me; I welcome a good warm-up,” Roc shot back. He assumed a combat stance, but with his missing arm, the gap in his defense was undeniable.

“All right, enough beating around the bush, get on with it,” Foley groaned.

Foley’s complaint was the starting bell, and Roc launched himself towards Noah. He wasn’t using his wings, but even without them to provide propulsion, he was quite fast, able to cross the distance in an instant and begin hurling kicks with great ferocity. He spun like a top, touching the ground for only the briefest fraction of a second between each attack. Noah dodged the relentless kicks, not wanting to test his guard in a full-on block against such formidable force, but it wasn’t just the kicks he had to be wary of. Though Roc had lost an arm, he had trained to compensate, and the remaining arm was much stronger and faster. Every attempted punch was like the swing of a hammer, every nukite jab was like a spear thrust, and his chops reminded Noah of sword slashes. Since Roc could not overcome the gap in his defense, he threw everything into offence, and it was impressive.

Having seen what he wanted to see, Noah slipped past Roc’s guard and lightly jabbed him in three points running up the middle of his torso. He didn’t strike too hard, but it shattered his focus and crushed his momentum. Roc came to an immediate halt and instinctively covered the targeted area with his heart racing. The pain was minor, but still, he trembled with hushed breath, feeling his stomach rise into his throat. Noah was holding back when he struck him, but had he hit with real force, Roc knew he’d be puking his guts up and left out of commission for a good while.

“Goddammit,” he hissed while spitting. “Am I really so much weaker than you?”

“Don’t let it get you down. I myself have been bested a few times since we were knighted. That said, I can see how much you’ve improved. I didn’t dare receive any of your attacks because I could tell how powerful they were.”

“My thanks. You’ve also gotten stronger since we first fought. During the battle royale, I was able to at least land one or two blows.”

“Well, I certainly hope I’ve gotten stronger. Feel free to use that move. May it serve you well.”

At that moment, Alexis stepped outside. “What’s going on here?”

“Just some light sparring between former classmates,” said Noah. “You know, it occurs to me that you and I have never fought before. Want to take a crack at me?”

Alexis paused, realizing the truth in his words. She and Noah had battled side-by-side before, but never faced each other. Deep down, it was something she always wondered about. She knew that Noah was stronger than her, that he would win any fight between them, but part of her was still curious, wanting to know what it would be like to challenge him in combat. Still, she shook her head.

“Someday, you and I will have that chance, but for now, I’m still busy with work.”

“I remember you,” said Foley. “Weren’t we at the academy together?”

“Yes, I’m Alexis Veres. You’re Foley, right?”

“Indeed I am. I remember you racking up plenty of points by dueling. Tell me, are you entering the tournament?”

“That was just in the academy. I prefer to save my fights for a noble cause, rather than to be a spectacle for an audience.”

“Well, fewer opponents for me then.”

“Noah, there is someone inside asking for you,” Alexis then said. “He didn’t give a name, and I don’t recognize him.”

“Hmmm, curious. Let’s see who it is.”

The four of them went back inside to find a man sitting at the bar and resting his feet on a wooden box. He had a shaved head and a face covered in scars, with a pair of swords on his back. Try as he might, Noah couldn’t remember ever meeting this man.

“I hear you’re asking for me,” said Noah.

The man chuckled. “So you’re the Wandering Spirit, huh?”

Just from his tone, Noah could guess why he was there. “Let me guess, bounty hunter? And I’m betting your goal is to put my severed head in that box?”

The man, originally smiling, groaned. “Impressive, but you just ruined one of my favorite parts of this job.”

“Too lazy to drag an empty coffin behind you, huh?”

“All I need is your head, unless you’d rather I take you in alive?”

“You do understand you’re threatening a gold-rank knight in the nation’s capital, right? I could arrest you right now, put you in a cell where you’d never see sunlight again.”

“You may be gold-rank, but something tells me the knighthood would be glad to be rid of you. If anything, they’d pay me to take you off their hands.”