‘What would you like me to do, milord?’
‘The same as before, General,’ Malus said in a stern and solemn tone. ‘Observe and report. He’s not a threat yet, and your work in Valour Keep is too valuable to expose your cover.’
‘And if he becomes a threat, milord?’ the hooded figured asked gravely.
‘Then you can dispose of him. But only if the situation warrants it,’ Malus said. ‘I sent Captain Hargonnas to Vadost, as well, so let him assist you and do the dirty work instead. He’s more expendable than you are.’
‘I am honoured you think so highly of me, milord,’ the General said lightly.
‘I don’t.’ The dark elf smiled back and poured another glass of wine for the guest and himself. ‘Have you met with Captain Hargonnas, yet? He should be in Vadost by now.’
‘No, milord.’
The dark elf scowled. ‘When you do, watch him very closely. He tends to act on his own. Very unpredictable. If he didn’t have his uses, I would have gladly had his head lopped off and sent to his parents for having the little puke.’
‘I’ll keep a close eye on him,’ the General said.
‘What about the dwarves in Vadost? They live in – ah, Dwarfside, right?’
‘Aye. They are a bit different to the dwarves of Dvargerberg. Though they don’t intermingle with humans so much, they don’t bear hatred towards them. They tolerate humans as though they had forgotten the history of the Ordonians’ conquest of their lands. Any dwarf who tries to convert them to our cause is turned away or ignored.’
‘And the elves?’
‘There are not many in Vadost. There’s a grouchy dark elf by the name of Sanctus, but he’s only interested in selling shoes. The rest of the elves are like him, even if the locals treat them poorly. They show little to no interest in our cause. Perhaps they’ve been living in human lands too long.’
‘They’re fools,’ Malus told his General. ‘They don’t understand that this is for the greater good of the nation of D’Kari. For all elves, dwarves, and gnomes. Can’t they see that humans cause trouble wherever they go?’
The General nodded in agreement, despite being a human, himself. ‘Troublesome, indeed.’
‘Do you have any other tidings from Vadost, General?’ Malus asked.
‘Nothing noteworthy. I still have not located any signs of the Pariah there.’ The man sipped the remnants of his wine. ‘Excellent vintage, milord. It takes me back many years… Where was I? Ah, yes – the Pariah. Are you sure he is with the Knighthood?’
‘Yes, I am sure,’ Malus answered coolly. ‘I’ve intercepted a few of his messages. That is how I learnt of when and where to expect the arrival of the Cursed Ones. That is why I had my fleet sent to the Dark Sea to intercept and get rid of them, but Captain Hargonnas failed on his part with this particular one.’
‘I can deal with the boy, milord.’
Malus grunted. ‘That’s not necessary at the moment. Hargonnas’s mistake may be a blessing, but first, I need you find out everything you can about this boy. If he is, indeed, the Cursed One, then the Pariah may come to him. We can use the boy as bait to lure him to us, and we’ll effectively kill two birds with one arrow. However, I leave everything to your discretion.’
‘One more question, milord.’
Malus tilted the glass towards his lips and made a beckoning motion with a flick of his other wrist.
‘Are you certain that this boy is crucial to the Pariah’s plans? I’m having trouble believing that a mere boy can cause such a threat to us.’
‘From what I gather, the Pariah needs a Cursed One, an Einar, to interact with the Lost God, Murasa. Any Cursed One would do, since the ‘curse’ is what protects them from the devouring god’s power. As Captain Hargonnas claims, these Cursed Ones have no mana or life energy to drain. And this boy is the only unaccounted survivor of the Einar fleet. Of that, I am quite certain.’
The General nodded gravely and bowed. ‘I will keep a vigilant eye, milord.’
‘I trust that you will. I must now tend to other matters locally.’ The dark elf stood up, his signal to end the meeting. ‘When is the next time I will see you?’
‘It will be a while.’ The General rose in turn. ‘The Academy will start soon and I will be swimming in parchments, as the saying goes. If I cannot come here directly, shall I send word, instead?’
‘No,’ the dark elf said. ‘Trust no one. We cannot trust for your message to not get intercepted. I would rather wait. If it’s that pressing, you know what to do. Safe travels, General.’
The General bowed deeply. He straightened, and as he began to trace the glyphs for the teleportation spell, Malus stopped him. ‘That boy whom Lord Avenal enlisted into the Academy… what was his name?’
It took the General a moment to consider the question, and another to remember the name.
‘Kairos.’
* * *
‘Listen up,’ Mr. Dubose explained as they marched off towards Valour Keep from the city. ‘If someone is being nice to you, and you don’t know them, then tell them to piss off. No one is nice to you for no reason.’
‘What if they’re actually nice?’ Kairos glanced back at the friendly-looking man who had offered them a tour of the city while staggering about and reeking of spirits. He’d fallen into a ditch and lay there unmoving.
‘Well, they can take their happy arse and jump off a cliff.’ Mr. Dubose, too, glanced back at the drunk. ‘Or fall into a ditch!’
‘What about Galen Avenal?’ Kairos suppressed a grin. ‘He was nice to me and I didn’t know him. Then there’s you. I suppose you should jump off a cliff, then.’
‘I’m not nice to you!’ the dwarf thundered, red-faced. ‘Besides, you’re my apprentice. And that’s Lord Avenal to you. Show some respect or I’ll throw you into the ditch with that drunken nutter!’
Kairos turned away so he wouldn’t laugh, but not before noticing the dwarf flush in embarrassment.
Three months had passed since Kairos arrived in Vadost, three months since he had seen Lord Avenal and his daughter.
He had turned sixteen in the meantime. The dwarf gave him a day off from work and asked him what he wanted to do. Kairos wanted to visit Althea, but Mr. Dubose refused, stating that Stella would castrate both of them for showing up uninvited.
Thoughts of Althea occupied Kairos’s mind daily, and more so recently ever since Mr. Dubose informed him that they were going to meet today. Kairos felt a twinge of excitement, which started in the morning and only worsened as the day grew.
Mr. Dubose took notice and changed the subject. ‘You’ve been hopping about the workshop all morning,’ he said, ‘like you’ve finished dropping the biggest turd of your life.’
‘Yes, we were speaking of Lord Avenal. We’re going to see him soon, right?’ Kairos asked, oblivious to the dwarf’s sarcasm.
The dwarf grunted. ‘Somehow, I doubt you’re this happy to see Galen – and if you are, then maybe I should reconsider your residence in my workshop.’
‘What do you mean?’ Kairos asked, feigning a look of ignorance.
‘I’ve seen how you perk up whenever that girl is mentioned. You can’t fool me, boy.’ Mr. Dubose let out a loud guffaw. ‘Well, I hate to break this to ya, but this ain’t going to be a picnic. You’re going to take the Badger’s Trial.’
Kairos’s newfound happiness extinguished itself instantly, replaced by a sense of dread. No one had ever said anything about a Badger’s Trial. The Einar held trials back in Logres, tests of strength and bravery where those who failed died. Was that what he was doing today? He wasn’t ready. Why didn’t Mr. Dubose tell him earlier? He didn’t have time to prepare.
As if reading the boy’s mind, Mr. Dubose added, ‘Don’t worry. They’re only testing your abilities to determine how much training you will need. It’s not something you study or train for. They won’t kill you… maybe.’
The boy and the dwarf arrived at the courtyard of Valour Keep by noon. The day was a ho
t one for late spring, and in the distance, clouds gathered on the horizon, hinting at rain by afternoon. Kairos stared with open-mouthed admiration at the keep.
The grandeur of the structure left him in utter awe. It was a large fortress, rather than a keep, built into the foot of a mountainside. Several minarets soared towards the sky, emitting blue streaks of electrical energy from their tops. The centre tower had the most energy coalescing into one magical swirling ball. Kairos could almost feel the power radiating from the fortress, half expecting the magical energy to vaporise him at any moment. However long he stared, the streaks of blue light spun in place.
‘Quit gawking,’ Mr. Dubose snapped. ‘You look like a Zemusian monk who just stepped into a brothel for the first time. Ah, there’s Galen and his daughter. I’m going to have a word with him. You wait in line.’
Kairos saw the line of youth, most of them around his age, forming a column in the courtyard of Valour Keep. Several knights stood by, watching and waiting in the bright sunshine. To his dismay, Vaughn and Claudius, the two bullies from the fountain, stood in line. They noticed him, too, and began whispering to each other as they stared at him with leering grins. Kairos ignored them and went to the back of the line. Much to his pleasure, Althea took her place in line behind him. They waited half an hour, during which some of those in line began to chat with their neighbours, Kairos and Althea amongst them.
‘I was hoping you’d come,’ Althea said. Then in a rush, ‘I didn’t know if you’d still be living with Mr. Dubose, considering how those previous apprentices quit. I didn’t know if I’d see you again.’ She looked embarrassed as soon as the words left her mouth.
‘Oh, he’s not bad,’ Kairos replied. ‘The work is hard, but he feeds me well. And even if he were intolerable, I have my reasons for staying.’
‘And what are those reasons?’
‘I talked to your father about becoming a knight. I suppose that would be the best course for me. At least until I can go back to my homeland.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointment coloured her voice. ‘When will you go back?’
‘I… I don’t know. I will figure it out someday, but for now, I cannot say.’ He had not spoken to anyone about Logres since his conversation with Galen in Gersholm. This was as close to the truth as he dared tread. He did not know if she would believe him. So far, no one else in Ordonia seemed aware that Logres even existed.
Althea looked at him seriously for a moment and then said, ‘You mentioned more than one reason. What are the others?’
‘Well, there’s only one other, really,’ Kairos admitted.
‘And that is?’
The question took him by surprise. He did not know how to tell Althea how he felt. A girl as beautiful as her must have had plenty of boys tell her all sorts of clever phrases. Surely such a girl in Logres would not give him the time of day, given that he was considered the ‘runt’ there. But he wasn’t a runt here. She also confirmed what he had suspected: that she was worried he would leave. He dared to believe for a second that she reciprocated his feelings towards her.
Kairos swallowed. ‘You,’ he answered.
Althea’s face lit up and she grinned. Kairos felt warm, as if basking in her glow.
After that, the conversation took on the easy playfulness of that first stroll through Vadost. He wanted to talk to her more openly, but he felt the need to guard his conversation in the presence of her father, who stood nearby. Kairos could see Mr. Dubose muttering something to Galen, who bent down to listen. At once the older knight laughed out loud in a carefree manner and clapped the dwarf on the back.
‘I have never seen my father laugh like that,’ Althea remarked, watching the two.
‘They must be really good friends,’ Kairos said.
‘I’ve heard they fought against Malus together twenty years ago,’ Althea explained, ‘and defeated him. Malus escaped and was quiet for a while. Since then, my father was promoted to a Dragon Knight, while Mr. Dubose gave up the sword and took up blacksmithing.’
‘Mr. Dubose was a warrior?’ Kairos asked, incredulous. The dwarf had never mentioned such a thing to him. He regarded the blacksmith with a newfound admiration.
‘You didn’t know?’ she asked. ‘He always wanted to be a knight like my father, but the Knighthood won’t accept dwarves.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they have no mana. They cannot cast spells like us humans. My father disagrees with this old-fashioned tradition, but there are those in the ranks, like Lady Naiya, who demand we follow it.’
Kairos had many questions about the Knighthood and was about to enquire more when a stir of commotion silenced the new recruits.
Instructor Jomur, a haughty ferret of a man, squint-faced with receding chin, arrived riding on a donkey. The instructor was so tall, his feet almost dragged the ground. With a derisive shake of his head (which almost threw his glasses off), he eyed the recruits with disdain. Those in line who were on the verge of laughing at him fell suddenly and uncomfortably silent under his scathing scrutiny.
The instructor took his place in front of the recruits and pulled out a sheaf of parchment and a quill pen. ‘Welcome to the Badger Trial,’ Jomur announced in a monotone. ‘I assume you’re here because you want to join the Mana Knight Academy. Today’s trial is to test you on your knowledge, mana capabilities, and physical fitness. When called upon, you will approach me and state your full name, age, and years of previous schooling. Then you will enter the training grounds to my right and wait for further instruction from Professor Argent and Professor Bumbershoot.’
The first in line, a swarthy boy of short stature, shuffled forward. He was short, pudgy, and his eyes had the dull look of a cow. He reminded Kairos of one of the farmers of Gersholm. ‘Barnaby Shah, age sixteen, and sixteen years of schooling.’
‘Sixteen years of schooling?’ Instructor Jomur asked in disbelief, leaning forward. His glasses fell onto the tip of his nose, which he quickly pushed back. ‘And you are sixteen, correct? May I ask what sort of school taught you while you were a baby?’
‘My mother,’ Shah answered. The recruits in the line, along with the knights, who up till now had remained stoic, laughed. Shah cringed and peered down, his face reddening, looking as if he wanted to dig a hole and dive in head first. The boy was obviously not a warrior, and Kairos wondered why he was even bothering with the Knighthood.
Instructor Jomur was the only one not laughing. He scowled, pointing to the training grounds and said, ‘Go!’
The next person in line, a girl, approached Instructor Jomur reluctantly. She appeared to be on the verge of tears after watching Shah slink away in embarrassment.
‘State your name and age,’ said the instructor in a monotone voice. ‘Years of previous schooling?’
One by one, the recruits dwindled. Instructor Jomur asked the same thing in the same monotonous voice. The process would have passed on quickly enough if every recruit was like Shah, but whenever someone claimed to have several years of advanced education, Instructor Jomur would perk up, impressed, and prattle on about his own studies.
Kairos soon formed a negative opinion of the man, and it only became worse when he was called upon to approach.
‘Kairos, son of Karthok,’ he said in response to the instructor.
‘Son of Karthok?’ Instructor Jomur sneered. ‘That’s not a family name. What are you? Some sort of barbarian? State your family name.’
The knights and the remaining students in line became silent, staring at Kairos in curiosity. His face burned with shame and confusion. The Einar never used family names. Everyone in Logres identified themselves by simply their name and their father, or mother in some cases. There was no other affiliation except the name of the clan… His clan, the Azel clan.
The instructor regarded him coolly. ‘I’m waiting.’
Taking a deep breath, Kairos glowered at the instructor, summoning every ounce of patience within to not throttle the lanky man. He already hated hi
m.
‘Azel,’ he answered. ‘Kairos Azel, age sixteen.’ The question regarding the previous years of schooling puzzled him. The Einar did not go to school. He recalled Mr. Dubose explaining the concept to him a week ago, but it sounded too strange. Reading, writing, books. How were these things important to becoming a knight? Yet, the instructor thought it all so, and he continued to stare at Kairos expectantly for an answer. So he lied. ‘I had a year of school.’
‘A simpleton,’ Jomur answered, scribbling away with the quill. ‘Very well. Proceed to the training grounds.’
Kairos turned around and looked at Althea. She smiled, her eyes shining with encouragement. For an instant he saw Farina smiling, her hair cascading down her back in golden waves. He thought of Logres, the Blight, and the Einar.
With a determined step, Kairos walked towards the training grounds.
* * *
Althea stood apart from the other recruits as they introduced themselves and bantered. A boy with carrot-coloured hair glanced at her, as if wanting to start a conversation but Althea pretended not to notice. With nothing but boredom to occupy her mind, she fretted over what the Badger’s Trial had in store. She avoided the carrot-haired boy’s friendly gaze, and searched for Kairos.
Just as she found him and tried to wave him over, one of the knights stood before them and brought them to attention, calling out a litany of rules for the Knighthood, including the infractions of the said rules, which would bring about every sort of dire consequences.
‘Let the Badger’s Trial commence,’ yelled the knight. ‘If you’re scared, now’s a good time to go crying to your mothers, because the Knighthood doesn’t have room for cowards. And now Professor Argent would like to say a few words. Give him your full attention!’
The recruits quietened. Professor Argent took his place before them. He was majestic, sombre, his black coat gilt in silver swallowing him. His face, in spite of a long mane of silvery white hair, lacked the lines of aging. He affixed everyone with a penetrating gaze, taking in each recruit. Instructor Jomur stepped up and handed over the sheaf of parchment. Professor Argent studied the document, then looked up and made an announcement, which was direct and concise.
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