by B. T. Narro
Basen recognized only about a tenth of the people coming in and knew the names of no more than a third of those he recognized. It was a marvel to think that of all his allies, all fighting for the same cause, many wouldn’t ever have the chance to introduce themselves to each other. He wondered what it was like for third-years, if they finally knew everyone who’d come into the school the same year they had.
Cleve entered at the same time as the other Group One warriors, with Krepps right on their tail. To Basen’s amazement, they took their seats together and even looked to be communicating as they waited for the announcement to begin.
Reela came in later, glanced in Cleve’s direction, and then went the opposite way to find her seat. Effie soon joined her, then waved to Steffen when he came through the open gate. The chemist went up to join the two of them.
The one person Basen did not want to see was Alabell, and she came in toward the end, still chatting with that female Krepp. He felt a pang of sadness and forced his thoughts toward another matter. Crea Hiller.
Where was she? Crea should be next to Abith, but Abith was standing with the instructors against one of the circular walls.
Henry entered the stadium with Juliana. They faced each other and said something before she turned to go up to the benches. Henry took his place with the instructors. Basen would greet them both as soon as this was over. He had the rest of the announcement to find a way to dissolve the feeling Alabell had given him that nothing mattered anymore.
Terren lifted his arms for silence.
“I have only good news to share. First, we have confirmed that your friends and family who left the Academy with Tauwin’s military commander are safe.”
Basen clapped with the others, surprised the commander had kept his promise. It seemed odd that Terren would wait so long to send scouts for verification of this, but then Basen realized it wasn’t that. Terren had known for a while, but if this news had come out earlier, others might’ve left the Academy, too.
“And secondly,” Terren continued, “by now, all of you know that Ulric Takary has come from Greenedge to join Tauwin against us. Some of you also may have heard that Elves came with him, most of them strong psychics.”
Nervous excitement fluttered in Basen’s stomach. This is about what I’ve done. Vithos must’ve told Terren this morning.
“Although Ulric appears to be leading and financing these new enemies, some of whom attacked us the night after Tenred joined us, it is an Elf by the name of Yeso who led the other Elves in this troop. Led,” Terren emphasized. “He has been confirmed dead, and the Elves who followed him here, all of them, no longer fight against us. They’ve gone north and will not return.”
Among the applause, people yelled out to ask how Terren knew this. The headmaster smiled as he lifted his arms again. He seemed to be searching the audience.
Please don’t call me down there.
“Our portal mage, Basen Hiller, devised a plan and carried it through. It resulted in Yeso’s death and all of his Elves abandoning Ulric. Basen, come down here!”
Basen muttered a curse that was lost to the sound of roaring applause. The entire audience turned toward him once he was descending the stairs, his legs shaking from nervousness. These steps had never seemed steeper. Just don’t fall, just don’t fall.
He hopped down from the short wall to enter the sandy arena. During his descent, his father had joined Terren in the middle. Henry held a cloth necklace with a bronze medallion that Basen knew would be going around his neck.
Why was he so nervous? He should be proud. Still, he wiped sweat from his brow as he walked to the center. He made a point to stand straight and smile. Somehow, acting the part actually gave him the real feeling. Now he relished the applause as his smile widened.
The cheering quieted enough for Terren to speak. “This is a medal to recognize cunning and bravery. There isn’t time to tell the whole tale of what Basen did, but I’m sure it’ll get around. This is the Academy, after all.” The headmaster’s comment elicited light laughter. “With the Elves gone, the confidence of our enemies will dwindle. This gives us new opportunities in this war, and you can trust in your leaders that we will take full advantage.”
Terren put his hand on Basen’s back. “With this medal comes a new title. Basen the Cunning.”
“Oh, I like that,” Basen said a little too loudly. Everyone in the first rows laughed as Terren presented him with a certificate of the title. The whole stadium cheered as Henry hung the medal around Basen’s neck.
Basen had never seen his father so proud, smiling like a drunken fool. He found his mother in the audience, wearing the same embarrassing look. Then his eyes darted over to Alabell. God’s mercy, she was beautiful as she grinned and lowered her head to acknowledge his glance. There was some pain in her smile. The same pain he could feel in his chest getting stronger each moment he looked at her. Terren said something that brought on another wave of applause. Judging by the way everyone stared at Basen, it must’ve been about him.
He put on a false smile as he hoped it wasn’t a question. As the applause quieted, there was one man still clapping. Basen’s heart sank as he saw who it was.
The older man from the workhouse clapped loudly enough for the entire stadium to hear, bringing his hands together forcefully but slowly in a sarcastic manner. Everyone stared at him.
“Is that it?” he asked in a deep voice that reverberated throughout the stadium. “Shouldn’t we be giving the Hillers more medals? How about a medal for starting a war that no one needed? What about a title for that? Hiller, Hand of Destruction. It has a nice sound to it. Killing is all they’re good for, so why shouldn’t we award them for that?”
He let the silence hold after each of his ridiculous questions.
“Might as well put one around Tauwin’s neck, too!” he bellowed. “The Takarys are the only ones equally vile to the Hillers, and now we’re forced to choose the side of one to fight against the other! All of you from the Academy who stood against Tegry Hiller—how do you now allow his brother to hang medals upon his nephew’s neck? You’re rewarding the wrong people!”
Basen felt a response bubbling up, but the words hadn’t formed yet. He couldn’t be the only one who wanted to speak up. Yes, he could see it on many faces. But they seemed just as stunned as he was. Even Terren gave no indication he would interrupt this berating anytime soon.
Could it be that they actually found truth in what this man was saying?
“My son was trained as a warrior here at the Academy,” he continued. “He finished his three years, then returned to working at my bakery with nothing to show for his efforts except for a binding contract—a death contract. War came, because of the Hillers, and so he fought, and he died.” The man pointed at a group of older troops from Tenred as they sat together not far from him. “My son fought against the lot of you. He died in battle, never to be awarded any medals, any honor.”
Basen didn’t know the man’s name, but he’d worked alone in the workhouse. He had no wife and certainly no bakery anymore.
“Shut up!” someone yelled.
“Let him finish,” Terren announced to Basen’s surprise.
“Thank you, Terren. You are an honorable man. My son lost his life!” he shouted in the direction of the person who’d tried to quiet him. “And now I have to sit here and watch the people responsible for the war as well as those who fought against my son give awards to each other. You act as if these Hillers are heroes because they’re standing against the Takarys. They were forced to pick a side, and that’s all they’ve done! They did nothing in the last war! Nothing! How do the rest of you not see this?”
He pointed again at the nearest troops from Tenred. “None of you are any better. Just like the Hillers, you did nothing about your king. Yet look at what Kyrro is doing when our king shows he’s not fit to rule. Civil…war! Just like the Hillers, you join now only because you have something to gain. But the only men and women with any honor a
re those who’ve followed Terren from the beginning! From when Tegry Hiller declared war. You’re making a mockery of honor by awarding scum.”
Finally, he seemed to be done. The man had a throat made for shouting, his voice gaining even more confidence by the end of it.
Yelling—insults by the sound of most of them—bombarded the man from every angle. But they quickly quieted when Terren raised his arms.
The headmaster motioned for guards as he spoke. “We listened to you. Now you’re going to listen to us before you leave.”
“May I?” Basen asked, not wanting Terren to speak on his behalf, especially when he had something he was itching say.
“Go ahead,” Terren encouraged.
The man folded his arms and looked to be proud of himself. The Academy quieted completely to listen to Basen.
There had been some truth, too much truth, to the spiteful old man’s words. Half the people waiting for Basen to speak looked at him dubiously, as if the medal around his neck was indeed ironic. He could see it in their eyes—he was just a Hiller again, as he was to the man from the workhouse. But the others, those who knew him, looked to him in expectation that he would put this man in his place.
The medallion felt heavy around Basen’s neck, wanting to pull his head down. He forced his gaze to meet his audience, specifically the man willing to risk death to speak so highly of Basen’s family.
Basen wanted to begin with how this man had been angry since they’d met in the workhouse, that none of that anger had been directed at Basen until later, when he’d learned who Basen was. There’s too much judgment in a name.
“Basen?” Terren prodded with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder.
He wasn’t sure why the silence of those waiting in the stadium put such little pressure on him. But now that Basen was here in front of them, and he realized no harm would come to him, he took his time to find the right words.
Too much judgment in a name.
“He gives no response because he has none to give!” the man yelled. “You can’t argue with the truth, Hiller.”
“You speak as if I bowed before my uncle,” Basen spat.
“You are a liar if you say you did not, and the psychics here can confirm it.”
“I did not bow to Tegry. I bowed to the crown atop his head.”
“So you did bow to him, when you could’ve fought—”
“I did not interrupt your tirade,” Basen said, “now let me respond without interruption.”
The man smirked as he put up his hands in mock surrender.
“Boys don’t lower their heads in deference to their uncles, and I never did for mine. But I had to bow to the King of Tenred. Paying respect to a leader is a tradition as old as man. It’s how we recognize those who give us direction, especially during times of war when unity is important.
“You speak as if people are foolish for taking orders from Henry Hiller, but there is no shame in that because his name has nothing to do with his role. Yes, he helped his king in the last war, but he did not help his brother. If you knew what kind of man Tegry was to his own family, you wouldn’t be using the words ‘brother’ and ‘nephew’ like they mean something. They didn’t then, and they don’t now. You’re the one holding onto the past.
“Henry’s troops have followed him here to join us, and Abith’s men have done the same. Together with Terren’s troops, we all stand against a legion of men who strive to kill us. We must fight as one, and we can only do so by having honor. We must respect our leaders and each other. Now you try to take away that honor and respect. You speak about my family and the men from Tenred as if we’re traitors, as if there’s nothing we can do to redeem our past. You are the one striving to turn everyone against each other, while the Hillers are trying to help win this war.
“You’re more toxic than a traitor, yet you speak like you’re the last honorable man. There’s a reason you’re about to be removed from the Academy. It’s the same reason that I, a Hiller, was given a medal of honor. Present. Rules. Past.”
The audience erupted with applause so suddenly it shocked Basen. He grabbed the medallion and lifted it in his fist. They grew even louder.
Basen figured he would never know the name of the man who had put so much focus on the Hiller name. There was no way to know what this man would do after his exile from the Academy, but Basen didn’t care as he gladly watched him escorted from the stadium. He hoped this man would take this experience as a lesson. Such focused rage doesn’t always require an equal response.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Life in the Academy soon returned to what Basen had expected, with a few big changes. He was reminded of the hole in his heart every time he saw Alabell or anyone who resembled her. Fortunately, though, there were a number of things that helped fill that hole.
He was pleased during mealtime when he noticed warriors and Krepps sitting together as they had during the Redfield announcement. Nebre and Cleve had become friends, or Cleve was just intent on learning Kreppen. Whatever it was, Basen saw the large warrior sitting only with the civilized Krepp.
Zoke had told Basen he should bring Nebre to Regash Forest. Nebre was one of the few Krepps, like Zoke, who could keep the others from doing anything foolish, like getting involved in the war. But Nebre seemed just as needed here, for he was constantly asked to translate.
Nebre’s father, Rickik, looked to have gained some pride in his son. Basen no longer saw Rickik dirtying Nebre’s clean face, messing with his combed hair, or forcing him to change out of his cloth shirt. Instead, he let his son speak to the humans as he looked on in apparent curiosity. Basen didn’t know what their relationship was like on Warrior’s Field, as he couldn’t imagine Nebre fighting with the same fervor as the other Krepps, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not even Rickik could deny how useful Nebre was.
In time, Basen would mention the request from Nebre’s old friend, but not yet. Sorry, Zoke.
Abith called Basen over to a table filled with troops from Tenred.
“That was some speech you gave on our behalf,” Abith said.
The speech wasn’t meant to benefit them, but Basen smiled anyway and said, “You’re welcome.”
He looked around to confirm Crea’s absence. “Where is she?” Basen asked, having no need to specify who he referred to.
“Crea left,” Abith said. “Did you really expect her to stay after you told Henry what she did to your mother?”
“She’s Crea,” Basen retorted. “She does whatever she wants, no matter the consequences to anyone else.”
“I suppose that’s right. She is a Hiller, after all.” Abith’s disarming smile showed he meant no offense with the jest. Besides, Basen couldn’t deny there was truth to it.
“Have you abandoned your plan to overthrow Terren, or just put it on hold?” he asked.
“It’s on hold,” Abith replied. “Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured for everyone to make room so Basen could squeeze in beside him.
“Sitting at a Tenred table…I’m not ready for such a commitment,” Basen commented. Joining them meant so much more than just lunch.
“Very well,” Abith said. “But when you find yourself questioning the methods of your instructors, as you will, come back and speak with me.”
Abith had always been a bold man, so his statement came as no surprise.
“They’re not incompetent,” Basen said, “as you imply.”
“No, they just don’t know how to handle someone of your potential.” Abith made a shooing motion. “Don’t hover there with your food. Either sit and allow me to explain, or get going.” His friendly smile diffused the situation, though Basen didn’t smile in return. He was curious to know what Abith meant about his potential but decided against staying to find out. Terren and Jack treated Abith like an enemy, so Basen couldn’t be associated with him or his men.
He left to sit with Effie, Reela, and Steffen.
“I haven’t had the chance to thank the tw
o of you,” Basen told Effie and Steffen. “Annah explained everything. I’m sorry you had to fight. If I had known that would happen, I would’ve come up with a better plan.”
“There was no safer option.” Steffen spoke with confidence and finality. “I’m glad we went. No thanks necessary.”
Effie pointed her fork at Steffen. “What he said. We got Neeko as a result, so it was worth it.” She seemed to realize her mistake as her eyes lit up. “Not to imply your mother isn’t important.”
As long as Juliana was here in one piece, Basen didn’t care what Effie thought. “Did my mother really…kill someone?” he asked.
Effie pursed her lips, looking impressed as she remembered it with a nod. “She’s a fierce woman when she needs to be.”
“That’s true.” Just as Basen was about to take a bite of his food, someone slapped his back and knocked the fork out of his hand.
“Basen!” Vithos cried with utter joy. “Good talking in Redfield! I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Basen said as he retrieved his fork from the floor and wiped it on his napkin.
The Elf danced over to Reela, kissed her cheek, and settled beside her. Just then, a group of students came to stand at the end of their table. There were four of them, all women Basen had seen before but never met. They asked to hear what happened with the Elves.
Vithos seemed excited to tell the tale, ignoring his food as he gestured emphatically with his arms. “Basen took us to Merejic in a portal.” He stopped to imitate the whooshing of a portal, then grabbed his stomach. “Make us sick, but necessary.”
Others gathered to listen, and soon there was a small audience of students of all classes. Effie and Reela politely took their plates and left, Reela patting Basen on the back on her way to another table.
“Sorry,” Basen mouthed to them.
“It’s all right,” Effie replied.
Steffen didn’t seem as uncomfortable, though, finishing his food quickly and listening intently.
It was a relief when Basen was able to slip away later. He was quite nervous when he showed up for Penny’s class. He arrived early so she wouldn’t scold him in front of the other students, but she wasn’t at the training grounds.