Chapter 58—At the top

Chapter 58: 58—At the top The sounds of the celebration grew distant. Lucen and Liam crouched against the top of the house, listening to Chester and Koril talk in the alleyway below. The warm air clung tightly to Lucen, and his throat seized up with a mild fear. Their voices weren’t low by any means, though. They didn’t seem to care if anyone heard. "The way the soldiers talk about your righteous blade," Chester teased, "try letting them lick it; it could have special powers." "You’re the one that made me waste so much time and mana to kill the beast," Koril complained. "There were so many more efficient ways, Warren was even there." "Being efficient is nice, but morale is far better. All the soldiers are less cowardly now, more focused on your long sword." Using your strongest attack to beat the leader was definitely a way to inspire morale. But he’d rather Chester focus on effective war plans. Now Lucen felt a bit embarrassed for how excited he was when Koril destroyed the Fiend Bull wolf. Their voices stalled for a moment, and the possibility of getting caught made Lucen’s heart pound. Chester was known as the best mana sense user, and Koril was a close second, if the rumors were true. "The wolves are only going to grow in numbers and power," Chester sighed. "If only Milena was here. Reviving the dead soldiers would make things easier." "If tomorrow’s plans work well, then we could reduce our losses," Koril said. "We Keep around two hundred Knights alive, we’ll win." "And the Tyrant?" Lucen’s heart stopped. Liam’s eyes grew distant and horrified. There was actually a Tyrant Bull wolf? Tyrants were local myths, something people would fear and revere as terrible but spiritual. Koril and Sandor could definitely beat it by themselves, but who would with the growing number of Fiends? Eight Grand Knights was a blessing to have, but only Top-tier Knights who could take on a Fiend wolf by themselves. If there were more than eleven High-rank wolves, then their losses were going to be substantial. "I thought you said morale was important," Koril muttered. "We already had enough deserters with just one Fiend." Chester’s laugh scared him more than a Bull wolf. He couldn’t see Chester or Koril, but their presence commanded so much attention he forgot they were in the middle of a celebration. "We’re executing the deserters we caught this night," Chester said. "You should be the one to cleanse them." The silence clawed at Lucen’s throat, breath held without anyone asking him to. Koril was silent, but he could feel the heat of the air grow. Something clattered against the ground, and Lucen nearly jumped off the roof. "If you don’t want to speak, that’s alright," Chester said. "But at least throw your garbage away properly." "I’m not executing them." There was a silent thud, one Lucen suspected was Chester picking up whatever Koril threw. "Alas, we must do something about them," Chester sighed. "You know me, I’m not against forgiveness. But men must hang, and heads must roll." "Then you do it yourself. What? You don’t want the mudborn to think too badly of you?" The silence drove a dagger deeper into his lungs the longer it dragged. Maybe he should just reveal himself and beg them to talk faster. "I wish to use the high regard you have right now to soften the blows," Chester said simply. "The civilians will accept the condemnation well, and it shows how shameful it would be to desert your comrades. But most importantly, I’m ordering you, elder brother." The sounds of the world drifted away under the weight of Chester’s authority. Lucen’s breath caught in his throat. "If you don’t want to obey my commands, then you should say so," Chester continued. "Take back your rightful place as master of the Grey Keep. Till then, you will follow my commands." Koril’s laughter scratched Lucen’s eyes. Too deep and unnatural for the stoic man. "And you? Will you perform your duties as master of the Keep?" Koril sneered. "Summon Father’s Spirit Light. Hell, summon Milena at least." "Shall we cry to Father about all our problems? The war with the Dark Clans is already deadly enough—I will not ask Father to come help us here, too." "Let it be then. I do not wish to argue with you," Koril scoffed. "How is your interrogation of Aya Medaza going?" Lucen’s blood turned cold. A sick wave of nausea washed over him. They were interrogating her? She already told them everything they needed to know. He couldn’t help but imagine a ragged form deep down in the pits. "She is splendid. My spells often break the mind before the soul, but she is stalwart and truthful, thankfully. I feel she has told me everything I need to know, and no man gains pleasure from torturing such a beautiful girl." "Are you sure executing the heir to a Khan, without informing the King and the Menian court first, is a good idea? You haven’t contacted the Sky Castles yet, right?" Chester was silent for a moment. "The people need to see justice done after all the devastation the wolves will bring. And I have contacted the Ainsel Castle in Redgrove, but they won’t get here before the fifth wave arrives. They will send Skyseeker riders ahead to assist us. Five Grand Knights." Chester let out a heavy breath. "We have a lot to prove, Koril. Everything must be executed to perfection. If Thallor or any of the demigods declare war tomorrow, we must stand before everyone. And if any crimes are brought up against us, we fall deeper under the Veiled King’s thumb." The soft click of boots filled the air. Chester turned before he left, and said, "Execute the deserters tonight." A heavy breath left Lucen’s chest. He rubbed some sweat from his brow and signaled to Liam that it was time to leave. They would have shivered if they could see Koril down in the alleyway, sitting on a simple stool and surrounded by bottles of beer. He glanced up at the roof as they left, frowning. ■——■ Lucen calmed down a bit once they got back onto Lost Street. Now surrounded by the warm smells of food and people, he forgot his usual distaste of large gatherings. Anything was better than being inches away from Chester. They might have known Lucen and Liam were there. But he avoided using mana sense when he didn’t have to—he hoped Koril and Chester did the same. He was dragging Liam back to his table to help him deal with Kon and the others. He was a social smoke grenade Lucen liked to deploy when needed. "Are we really going to do nothing about Aya?" Liam asked. Lucen turned away, shrugging. "Like what?" "I don’t know—we could ask Windy." Liam was still fourteen, mature for his age, but still a kid. Lucen rolled his eyes at him. "There’s a Heroic-rank Bull Wolf coming to destroy us. Do we have time to waste?" Liam was stunned for a moment, but a deep glare replaced his shock. Lucen ignored him, quietly walking, and promised himself to look for more kills tomorrow.