The cycle of light training and gun instruction progressed in Celeste’s home. The more I learned about guns, the more I liked the concept of shotguns. Rifles gave me the impression that one needed to be fairly competent to hit something at a distance, particularly if either target or wielder were on the move. Revolvers, while the handiest to use in quick, close-quarters combat against the uncorrupted, did not fare too well against fiends, who tended to brush off the weaker shots. Since I never considered myself much of a long-range fighter, the short-range power and scattershot ability of the shotgun fit my fighting style better.
In any case, until I could get my hands on actual loaded weapons, my inferences had to stay theoretical. At least I was beginning to vocally gratify my instructors when they asked me to recite back what I learned so far.
When the moons had replaced the sun for several hours already, Major Holson returned.
Finding it an odd time to come back, I said more than asked, “You have news, I presume?”
“Greetings to you too. Yes, I’ve heard Pleulor leadership wants to meet you and your brother. I’m not yet privy to who that includes, but it’s supposed to happen at the Vanguard command post. I’ll take you over around noon.”
“All right. Any first impressions about this meeting?”
“Nothing sounds out of the ordinary. You probably won’t see Pleulor’s chancellor. He’ll likely send a representative and a couple notable business people to confirm you’re someone worth talking to and not some nut.”
“Little more than an introduction, then.”
“You have to start somewhere, and I would think once Pleulor realizes your potential, they will quickly move to secure a rapport with you. Anyway, for all I know, maybe the chancellor himself will make his appearance. We’ll know who we’re dealing with once we get there.”
With the new information, I timed everything so Alex and I could wake up fully refreshed before leaving for the meeting. Once the Vanguard members changed into their non-armored black and gold uniforms, we left Celeste’s house after a light pre-lunch. We took a couple of mechanical carriages to get near the Vanguard’s command post by the shore. Lieutenant Gaos waited for everyone right outside the raised earthen perimeter. He led us within the base, which consisted of three stone buildings with long dimensions surrounding a three-story tower in the middle.
The other lieutenants separated from us as we entered the tower. We headed for a back room in the ground floor. I expected a bland space with a big table, but the windowless room held numerous leather couches and big chairs, fur rugs, books in shelves, paintings and pictures of various figures wearing uniforms, and old armor hanging on the walls. Two tea pots and their cups rested on a squat table at the center. Alex and I sat on a couch farthest from the door and which faced it. The major and his squad filled the seats to the right and left of my position.
The two generals and their lieutenants made themselves known a minute later. Right behind them were three non-military humans. A middle-aged woman wearing a red blouse and a long black skirt joined us first. A youngish man with a tall tan hat and small moustache practically skipped into the room next, a cane twirling in his hand.
Due to the silver, sword-shaped scabbard poking out from under his dark purple overcoat, the last one to enter drew my interest the most. His neatly trimmed, short beard and medium length hair was a light brown color, almost blondish, really. He wore one of those faces that made it impossible to determine whether he possessed wisdom beyond his years or had matured gracefully. In either case, I could not deny that same face emanated a calming demeanor, putting even me at ease.
When everyone took their seats opposite me, General Valentine said, “Mercer and Alexandros Eberwolf, Madam Andino is Pleulor’s vice chancellor.”
“Yes, the chancellor is currently feeling too ill to travel,” said Madam Andino, a hand fan wafting the stuffy air off her face. “He would have come himself, otherwise.”
“Understandable,” I said, doubting the seriousness of the excuse. “No need to risk health for my sake.”
Continuing, the general said, “The man with the sword is Viscount Rathmore from Osburk. His family has connections to the vlimphite processing industry. He has good insight to the current figures regarding the amount and reach of vlimphite in human territory.”
“I will do all I can to help Dretkeshna and any people from any realm if I have the power to give it,” said Viscount Rathmore, his voice slick and mannerly.
The general began to introduce the last stranger, but so many thoughts and emotions slapped my senses that I did not hear anything about him. Surprise certainly struck me first. My muscles tensed so they could do something like reach for a dragon stone or turn my head to look at somebody among my allies, but for some unfathomable reason, I did nothing. In fact, my next reaction was to relax from the initial alertness.
A prevailing belief consolidating in my mind was how strange it was that I even wished to prepare to fight a serene man who had yet given me any indication he was predisposed to violence. If anything, he may be another Rathmore who could aid me. He stated so himself, did he not? I simply needed to be patient and give him the benefit of the doubt. That sounded reasonable.
By and large, the next sentences I spoke regurgitated information already given to previous listeners.
The man whose name I did not know, said, “Why don’t we speak with his dragon ourselves?”
“No,” said the viscount, a mild strain in his tone. “Who knows what kind of spells a dragon knows? We can’t chance it.”
The room agreed with him. After all, how could he risk trusting me and Aranath so hastily? An imprudent endeavor.
“Viscount Rathmore,” began Alex, “if you need our trust, we will… we will work to prove ourselves.”
The viscount cracked a smile. A tired one. “How generous of you. However, I can already tell how bothersome you and your brother will turn out to be. Our goals are simply not compatible, you understand.” He stood up, so, out of respect, we all did as well. “I’d like for everyone but Major Holson’s squad and the ghouls to leave the room and give us a few minutes.”
No one questioned his intention. We simply understood it to be a good one.
To General Noboa, the last one to leave, the viscount said, “Shut the door… Ah, now that we’re alone…”
His left hand, which had always been resting on the gold pommel of his sword, gave way to his right. He clutched the black grip to draw out the weapon. Half its golden crossbar was missing, and as he exposed the rest of it, I noted the blade itself appeared to be missing half its whitish gray steel, for while one blunted edge looked smooth, its other vertical half ended in a heavily chipped mess almost right up to the sharp tip.
The viscount stepped toward my right. In his immediate way stood Major Holson, Lieutenant Gaos, and Alex. The blade rose to Eric’s neck. Without a sound from either man, the viscount used the ragged edge to tear open the Vanguard’s throat. An ally I trusted collapsed dead on to the floor, so why had I not yet dared to move? Why was I still giving this stranger the benefit of the doubt? Should I change my mind about the viscount? No one else was reacting, not even my irritable brother, so perhaps there was no need to overthink it.
Lieutenant Gaos’ lifeless body thudded the floor next. No, I had yet to see his point. I heard a seething exhale from my brother as he saw Viscount Rathmore line up his sword to his neck. Was he struggling with questions as well? The blood dripping from the blade reminded my corruption of battle. That was an option, right? Why had I not thought about it until now? Did I forget how to fight? Did my corruption remember? I had to find out.
Many nicked steel points pressed against Alex’s skin. Right as they began to slide, my hand slapped aside the blade’s tip. The act left a coarse cut on the top of my palm, but more than that, I sensed a surge of powerful prana from the viscount or the sword itself during contact. Our attacker stumbled backward, tripping on the lieutenant’s body. As the
viscount fell, he let go of his sword. I placed a boot on the blade to keep him from picking it back up. Given I still felt prana humming in the sword, I knew it to be enchanted.
One of the women screamed either Eric’s name or simply shouted incoherently. Alex grabbed his throat. A soft, wet sobbing barely reached my acuity, but it was there. At the same time Isabel knelt down next to both dead bodies, Felicia and the krewen had their guns out and pointed them at the viscount. Perhaps he would have been shot then and there were it not for the door being opened by General Valentine.
“What the fuck is going on here!?” asked the general. He and the Vanguard behind him drew their revolvers on a quick examination of the scene.
“The viscount killed the major and lieutenant!” responded Svren.
“What!? Impossible!”
“See for yourself!” said Isabel. “He just got up and cut their throats with his sword! We would have all been dead if Mercer didn’t snap us out of our weird trance.”
Crawling backward a bit, the viscount said, “They’re all mad, general! I merely defended myself from these ghouls and their turncoats! Execute them!”
“Execute us!?” said Alex, showing him the blood blotch on his palm.
My brother stepped toward him, but I stopped his progress with an outstretched arm. “If we didn’t have guns pointed at us, I’d let you do whatever you wanted, but now is not the time.”
“That’s enough from all of you!” said General Noboa. “You’re all under arrest until we can sort all this out. Surrender your weapons.”
“Generals,” I said, stepping off the blade. “There’s prana in this sword. It’s enchanted. Whatever spell forced you to obey the viscount had something to do with this blade. I wouldn’t let anyone with the ability to cast spells handle it, at least not without putting it back in its sheath. And certainly don’t return it to its owner.”
“We’ll take it under advisement. Put them all in a separate cell!”
Additional Vanguards appeared from behind the generals. Major Holson’s squad reluctantly gave up their weapons. Alex fumed, but he had no choice at this point. Viscount Rathmore, now comprehending his lost sway over us, kept silent. Without a spell influencing my perception, I know realized this Rathmore looked more haggard and colder than I previously presumed. Adding yet another stratum of abnormality to my thoughts, I realized no one was shedding tears. So who had I heard sobbing?
It didn’t take long for iron shackles to be brought and for our wrists to be restrained behind our backs. We were taken to a corner of the base. Beyond a metal gate extended two rows of prison cells facing each other and embedded in tan rock. The fourteen doors in total were made of vertical steel bars and horizontal steel strips. The hall going down the dungeon held no roof, so the light came from Dretkeshna’s own sun. I was shoved into a cell, my restraints left on. Svren was put in the cell across mine.
The Vanguards told us not to talk, but when the one who brought me in walked out of sight, I kicked the rough stone wall and shouted, “Fuck!” I never thought I would let myself watch two good people die right in front of me, and with their comrades watching on just as helplessly. What kind of spell could atrophy the mind to such a degree? The viscount had clearly performed similar executions before. Was he truly related to Riskel? He didn’t look much like Ghevont, but perhaps the greater part of his appearance came from his mother.
Shit! I knew Viscount Rathmore was put in one of the first cells. He was so close, yet too far to ask all the questions I wanted to ask without interruptions from gun-toting guards. I hoped separating him from the sword proved enough to keep him powerless. I figured he had to be, or his frantic command to get the generals to execute me would have got them to fire. However, in case he wasn’t so toothless, I put myself by the door and looked out into the hall at the best angle I could get.
Shortly after Svren returned from being taken, my door swung open about half an hour since first being locked in. I caught a glimpse of the viscount sitting on the head of the bare-bones bed as five Vanguards escorted me to one of the longer buildings adjacent the tower. I entered a wide mess hall with about twenty Vanguards standing in a loose semi-circle behind their two generals, who themselves sat on one of the center metal tables. A shove and command directed me to sit on a wooden chair a few feet away from the table itself.
“What do you have to say about what happened in the meeting?” asked General Noboa.
“Firstly, I must ask why you left the meeting when the viscount told you to do so. It now seems strange to me that two generals followed his wish without question, but at the time it felt like the natural way of things. So, does it seem strange to you now?”
“We are not the ones being interrogated, young sir.”
General Valentine eyed his counterpart for a brief moment, then replied, “Why ask your question?”
“Because I’m not yet sure if the viscount’s spell interfered with your memories. I know a spell had to be involved, but I’m wondering whether it affected me in the same way it did you and everyone else.”
“A valid concern. Trickery was certainly involved. What we are trying to determine, stranger, is who the trickery originated from. The feats of you and your brother are already known to be superior than any weaver we know of. Hard to believe one of our own is capable of weaving such spells. Answer our questions first.”
“You assume him to be one of your own… At any rate, right before you left us, the viscount mentioned something about how my brother and I are not compatible with his plans. Do you remember that? He then told you to leave. He drew his blade right after you closed the door. He cut down Major Holson and Lieutenant Gaos right in front of everyone. We couldn’t do anything to stop him.”
“But you did stop him,” said General Noboa.
“Not quickly enough.”
“But how do you explain ultimately breaking free of this mysterious spell?”
“I’m not certain. I do have experience being under a mind rune before. I vaguely recall the sensation not being too different, if somehow deeper. Perhaps that gave me a better chance at recognizing I was under a hex. Once I realized I needed to do something, I switched to the corrupted part of myself. It’s the same way I break out of my brother’s shadow spell.”
“And why do you believe the viscount’s sword had something to do with the spell?” asked General Valentine.
“I sensed prana coming from it when I touched it. I can’t say whether it augmented the spell or provided its source, but looking back, I do recall the viscount never took his hand off of it during the meeting. I’d like to ask what you did with it, but I suppose such a query will come off as suspicious.”
“For now, yes,” said General Noboa.
“Nevertheless, your version of events seems to answer the most questions,” said General Valentine. “The viscount invited himself to the meeting. The viscount’s only defense is that you attacked him, but provides little reason other than pointing to your natural madness, which we have yet to witness. And we indeed have the memory of so easily being talked out of the room by his voice.”
General Noboa didn’t seem to enjoy his partner admitting his stance on the matter, but he still followed up with, “Major Holson’s squad also defend you.”
I shook my head. “I hate that I couldn’t protect their commanders. I knew something felt strange about the viscount, but it took the deaths of two honorable men before I could counter the hex… Was the viscount really going to kill everyone because I might disturb his vlimphite business? I need to speak with him. There’s a chance he’s connected to Orda.”
“Orda?”
“Aye. Like you said, my brother and I can cast an assortment of spells because we weren’t restricted to this world. There’s a possibility the viscount’s spell can be explained in the same way. I’ve also heard the name ‘Rathmore’ before. Another reason I felt something was off with him. It can’t be a coincidence.”
“Hmm, maybe not. However
, you’re getting ahead of yourself. We still have to question your brother before we finish the interrogations. We’ll promptly decide future steps once we’re done.”
“If you’re really going to be prompt, then I request to be nearby so I can be here when you call the viscount again. I’m sure you’ll want to oversee my questioning of him. I won’t intrude on my brother’s interrogation unless he proves a problem, which I doubt he will be.”
General Valentine replied, “Major Holson recommended for you two be kept near each other in case your younger brother’s wilder tendencies got the best of him. Very well, you will sit quietly and unmoving in a corner. Either this will prove you are working together to cause us tragedy, or we can simply get our interviews done faster.”
I was taken to a chair set at one corner of the room, far enough that the generals’ voices sounded like whispers even while using normal tones. As long as no one else made any noise, I overheard most of what they said.
My brother entered a couple of minutes later. Several Vanguard stood between me and him, but we locked eyes for a split second. Anyway, he answered their initial questions with his usual irascibility. He sounded a little confused about what happened, so he pretty much stated my theory about “the bastard viscount” using a spell with his sword.
What really perked up my ears was when Alex asked the generals, “What did you do with him?”
“You mean the viscount?” asked General Valentine. “He’s still our prisoner, of course.”
“Yeah, but where? You didn’t put him back with the rest of us.”
“Yes, we did. We only have a single jailhouse.”
“No, I was put at the end of the hall, so I got to look into all the rooms. He wasn’t in any of them.”
Risking being seen as intruding, I exclaimed, “Alex! I saw him in the first cell on the left!”
“Well, he wasn’t in there!”
“Godsdamn it. We have to go check!”
The Dragon Knight and the Steam World Page 30