Fable - Ask The Canal

[Raf]

"Guess it's easier than digging around the ashes." Raf remarked to Kalix as he called this little endeavor a waste of time.

A part of him agreed, if only because the Elven woman seemed to babbling a mile a minute in a language he could absolutely not understand. The Academy didn't exactly stress linguistics, though some Initiates chose to study the tongue of their foe.

Raf was not one of them.

His face scrunched up slightly as the woman continued to speak. He caught a few words, mainly those which like had not elven translation. The one that marked out the most was 'Cortos'. The name of the territory besides Anirian held lands.

A frown touched his face. Maybe it was the Church?

He knew that the Radiant Gospel stretched far, but it seemed a bit...odd that they would be this far south. "How much do you think Lord Banick is going to care about this?"

Raf asked Kalix quietly.

The young Initiate himself had a sneaking suspicion that the answer would be; not at all. The man probably wanted this place gone anyway, someone else having already sown the seeds of that would probably be appreciated.

 

[Kalix]

Raf posed a good question, one that Kalix huffed at for a moment but did take time to think about. It’s true that their mission was to do whatever Banick wanted of them, their marks and graduation most definitely were waged on his opinions. And to complete the main objective, well, did it matter if this place was in disarray?

Weren’t they going to build all over it anyways?

“Only thing that could be an issue is when they start construction.” Kalix said, rather lamely, not having much thought about enemy motives or really caring about the well-being of the elves in this city. Sure they had found the boy and sure the mother seemed happy and was spilling her guts out to Alistair, that kiss-ass, but was this really benefitting Banick? Perhaps it would make the citizens less upset when they would be force to leave and to rebuild elsewhere? Perhaps this could encourage them to build elsewhere?

“I think Banick will only care if they come back and want to fuck shit up when they’re building. Could through a wrench in the expected completion date.” Kalix shrugged. “Or maybe he’d like to know they’re using the undead.” Kalix added. “Not that it should be an issue. He should just let me flatten everything to the ground.”

Making his presence known once again, Kalix strode forward, pointing his pernach at the mother and child— who cowered, as they should have— with one hand languidly resting on his hip.

“So what’s the plan? We tell Banick what the elf said and let him decide what we do? Or do we handle things ourselves and report back later?” Kalix demanded, his gold gaze looking to each of his comrades.

Alistair Krixus Kristen Pirian Raf

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair finally finished his translating and he remained silent for several seconds, letting Kalix and Raf speak. He offered a smile in an attempt to soothe the woman and the child. "Thank you for the information."

Turning back towards the others, Alistair was nodding along.

"Kalix is mostly right. He needs to know about this group, so he can prepare in case they come back. Clearing out a whole city that we now know is filled with those things...it will take an army to clear all this out efficiently."

This was all a big problem. The Sons of Cortos were problem enough, but the Fellowship was also still out there. They now had two enemies to deal with.


"We should head back and speak with Lord Banick. He may have some ideas on the best way to deal with all of this."

The city burning to the ground was a...problem, but one that could be fixed. The army had done a favor in terms of removing the elves, but now there really wasn't much of a city left to rule.

"Kristen, what is your opinion?"

Kristen Pirian Kalix Raf

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen pulled a scowl of disapproval when Kalix vaguely threatened the mother and son elf with his weapon again. But she dispelled that look quickly. Kalix might be belligerent, but he was being so in the best interest of all of them, and he didn't seem to have any intention of crossing any moral lines either. So it was best to let it go. Best for everything to cohesive among them.

Kristen, what is your opinion?

"He should care!" Kristen said, almost lamented, a glance to Raf as she said so. Then back to Alistair, "This mercenary company, the Sons of Cortos, seem naught but villains. Certainly little more than the common raider." She sighed, recalling unpleasant times in the land from which the Sons apparently hailed. "Why is Cortos a land so incapable of producing anything good?"

Kristen, however, was wrong about Lord Banick, Raf and Kalix being proven right. Upon return to the periphery of Elyr'Morath and relaying their story, Walter didn't take long to consider it. None of his retinue even spared a murmur among one another about it.

"We will not pursue them."

Kristen, shocked, spoke out of turn. "What? Lord Banick, why? They-they-they cannot be allowed to abscond uncontested for their savagery!"

With willed patience for the outburst from the Pirian girl, Walter's initial glower became a neutral glance again and he elaborated, "The Sons of Cortos are not our concern. Perhaps one day, should they make the unwise move of testing Vel Anir, but it is not this day."

Then a small smirk as he looked over the Initiates. "Today, we get to be heroes."

Raf's thoughts hit the bullseye. Internally, Walter was quite pleased that they had arrived to Elyr'Morath in such a devastated state. Not only would the fires leave the city a ruin (a headstart on the construction of the Canal and leaving nothing for the Fellowship), not only was any possible resistance already stamped out by the Sons of Cortos, but the opportunity was present to gain the favor of the survivors by rescuing them from their plight, why, even offering them new homes in the Canal Tenements of Ostia Anir. Best of all, Walter didn't need to purchase the land from the people of Elyr'Morath—quite a large sum of coin saved on account of a mercenary company's vengeful rampage.

Carts from the baggage train rolled up, the soldiers from the army close behind them. Fires from the town cast flailing shadows on the carts and their contents.

"These people are starving," Walter said as men began to drop the tailgates of the carts and wagons, climbing aboard and preparing for rations to be handed out. "So we'll give them some food. Initiates, keep watch. If there are yet undead that might be stirred to frenzy from our efforts, then you must slay them."

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Raf found that once more the cynicism which had been so ingrained in him proved true. Banick didn't care to avenge these people, much to Kristen's chagrin. He watched the nobles brief outburst, shaking his head once more and thinking again how nice it was to have someone around that actually cared.

It almost made him want to care too.

A frown touched his face as the thought flickered through his mind. Fingers tightened slightly on the staff he was leaning on, but he slowly shook his head and readopted the listless dispassionate expression he was known for.

None of this mattered.

It never had.

Dreadlords didn't get to do the right thing. They were weapons, soldiers and nothing they had an opinion on mattered much at all. Particularly when someone higher up had a different agenda.

So it was about thirty minutes later that the Initiates found themselves wandering carefully through the town. They had decided it would be best for them to move with the group of soldier distributing good and gathering those left behind. Acting as a vanguard and a swift cudgel to any undead that night rear their heads.

Raf remained utterly silent as they all walked together. His face a mask of nothing.

 

[Kalix]

“It won’t take army, just one dreadlord with some actual power to them.” Kalix said, directed straight at Alistair and rolling his eyes then with a closed fist he pounded on his heavy plate, feeling it vibrate against his broad chest. “Someone like me, not a bunch of extras the academy doesn’t kill off anymore.”

But nothing more was said on the subject. And Walter Banick did what was expected. Kalix was right, this was what nobles cared about. What they were all good for. Taking the misgivings of others and turning it into a profit for just themselves. What a joke. Power or money. Power or money, the only two things one needed to survive in this world. He huffed, thinking about how the revolution had royally screwed him over.

Not just him, him and his brother. Couldn’t Lysander realize that? Or maybe he had just picked the winning side because surely he wasn’t stupid enough to support something so… so… so….

His gold, irritated gaze seemed to ignore Raf and Kristen, and landed straight on one haughty noble that Kalix couldn’t stand no matter the circumstances.

“Good thing you’ve been kissing up to Banick so we can stand watch while he gives out some stale raisins, Huh, Krixus?” Kalix said in a low tone to Alistair. “Bet it’s worth those broken ribs, yeah?” And without warning Kalix jabbed a armored finger right into one of the initiate’s bruised ribs, unforgiving like the academy had once been.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

It played out much how Alistair expected. Technically speaking, it was the right decision for a lord, but one that many Dreadlords would not like. Banick was helping the people, prioritizing that over one of countless rogue mercenary groups.

Even though Alistair understood that he would have been lying if he said he had not wanted to hunt them down. It also struck Alistair how Banick's army was so quickly prepared to share their supplies with the city of elves that they had come to evict.

Everything was working out rather perfectly for Banick. Someone else did the work of clearing the city, while they got to come in and look like heroes...It was probably just a coincidence...yet, Alistair could not stop himself from wondering.

None of that became relevant as Kalix began talking next to him. The child stuck in a grown man's body was clearly trying to start a fight with his words, but Alistair was not about to lose track of his emotions while in the presence of their mission leader.

When words did not do the job, Alistair sucked in a sharp breath of pain as he hunched over in pain while Kalix jabbed his finger into Alistair's wounded ribs. The move was both surprising and painful as Alistair struggled for a second to regain his composure.

The pain had caused him to bend over as the sharpness in his ribs made it difficult to breathe. He disguised the moment of weakness by coughing as he finally corrected himself. Alistair looked at Kalix with fury and disbelief of what had just happened.

A proctor was one thing, but he would never let himself get looked down on by another initiate. There were many of his classmates that could kill him if they decided to act on it. If that was the route they chose then so be it. He would fight to survive, but he would never let any of them just blatantly disrespect him like he was some pathetic waste.

He quickly moved to lean into the boy's ear and kept his own voice low.

"If you have a problem with the orders then speak with the lord rather than acting like a child. Or, we can head back to the ocean and I will drown you in it myself. You may dislike me, but at least act like a Dreadlord."

Alistair was aware that he had been less than mature a few times throughout their mission and he had come to regret it, but he was not about to be bullied like they were in the children's wing of the Academy.

"If you wish to act like a wild house cat, then I can make that happen. I will make sure to report to the Academy your complete lack of competence or intelligence...Once they remove you from the Dreadlords, I am sure you will make a great maid for one of your 'friends' that keep you around as nothing more than a pet."

With that said, Alistair looked at him and then back at the others. They all looked so disgusted with what was going on, but who was really being disgusting at the moment? Was it the guards giving the food to people in need, or the four dreadlord initiates who were slobbering to hunt down mercenaries like some sort of hunting dogs.

"We are helping those that need our help. That is the role of the guard in this new republic. If you don't like it then maybe speak with the Council."

That was all Alistair could say about that as he limped off to continue defending soldiers, but away from those who would look to torment him.

Kristen Pirian Raf Kalix

 

[Kristen Pirian]

For half an hour, the most horrifying sights weren't any lingering undead. It was the aftermath of what people could do to other people.

Kristen tried to be vigilant, tried to keep dutiful watch as the Banick soldiers passed out rations to the beleaguered crowd of elves (none of whom shoved or pushed their way forward in the crowd, for they were all too weak for such things). She did try. But as the elves stepped forward from the crowd and received from the soldiers their rations and Kristen was able to take their measure, she found her gaze transfixed and her heart aching for them. There was a dazed man who had his ears severed from his head, and in one hand he carried them, the blood long clotted, as if they were some burden he'd been saddled with by a capricious taskmaster. There was an older sister, looking after her two younger brothers (no mother nor father nor any other family alive so it seemed), and she the sister, thin and frail and meek with hunger, gave her ration to her siblings as they all walked away, this so they would have more. The sight of an elven mother clutching her perished baby to her exposed breast, pleading quietly and persistently for the baby to suckle, nearly broke Kristen, and she had to turn away then, lest she continue to watch and tempt forth tears of sympathy.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, something came to demand her immediate attention and stole away the ghastly atmosphere.

Kalix and Alistair. Clashing again.

For now it was low-spoken words and posturing, but would it stay so? Kristen held her breath as Alistair spoke close to Kalix's ear. She didn't need to hear what he was saying to know that Kalix might very well find it provocative.

Kristen edged closer and closer toward Raf until she was standing right beside him. Then came the smallest, slightest nudge of her elbow to his arm, and she glanced over and up at the taller Initiate.

In her eyes the silent question of what they had talked about before, should it come to be. Should it be necessary.

Are you with me?

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Raf stood as still as an oak as Kristen edged closer to him, his face an unremarkable mask as Alistair and Kalix fought.

He flinched ever so slightly as the latter jabbed his finger into the former's chest. Watched as Alistair leaned in and whispered towards Kalix. His features impassive, his fingers curling ever so slightly at his side as the turmoil erupted.

A part of him wanted to hear what Alistair whispered, what the other Initiate said.

Yet before he could take a step forward he felt Kristen at his side. The Pirian nudged at him ever so gently, her gaze sweeping up to meet his. The words she silently spoke whispered in his head, lips turning, and then he slowly nodded. "Listen! Guys!"

Before either Alistair or Kalix could step away Raf swept forward.

"There's no need to argue!" He called as he grabbed Kalix by the shoulder."There's a lot of tension right now! Anger!"

He told them. "I don't think we need it."

Raf insisted as he practically tried to wrangle Alistair and grab him as well. Not allowing the two to dissolve the conflict before it could be properly solved.

 

[Kalix]

Kalix’s golden gaze narrowed at Alistair. The big know-it-all. Speaking about the guard, acting as if he knew more than Kalix did. Alistair had no right to talk about anything to him! Kalix could feel it in his chest, that sense of indignant authority that had always been his best friend during the earlier years of the academy. He had insulted the guard once again, insulted Liliana (who, while wasn’t Kalix’s favorite person but always seemed to bring him a sense of peace that he had only ever known with Perci or Lys), and then threatened him.

Out of all of Alistair’s words were made worse by him walking away for only Raf to come up and grab his shoulder. Tension? Anger? Those were the things that made a dreadlord! If there were any tools for survival that were innate in the human body it was those two things that separated the weak from the strong. Kalix’s anger had been brimming up since the incident with Alistair’s “joke” at the Banick estate. Why was everyone constantly pointing fingers at Kalix? Why was everyone constantly accusing him? Did no one see that Alistair was purposely trying to get under his skin?

But Kalix had never feared his anger. So what if he could make all the walls around him crumble into nothing but dust? Not that long ago the academy awarded that.

“Report me, then!” Kalix shouted at Alistair, shrugging off Raf’s hand. Not like that daydreamer was going to do anything anyways— not like he even could if he tried. “Tell them how you walked away from me… until you couldn’t.” Alistair may have been good with his words, but Kalix was better at everything else! And gravity? What could some common rune-knight do against gravity?

Focusing solely on Alistair, everything within a 1 meter diameter would feel heavy and suffocating, and at it’s radius, which was right where Alistair was, it would be insufferable. Heavier and heavier, the sort of pressure that caused lungs to collapse and bones to break, as if Alistair was hundreds of miles below sea-level.

Right above Alistair, appearing from thin air, no bigger than a pinprick left by the smallest needle, a dark, hungry void appeared. The temperature around them became cool and increasingly so, as if there had never been a fire to ravage the town.

Kalix was grinning, anger fully ablaze in his golden eyes.

“Or maybe you won’t be making it back to the academy at all. Not like anyone would miss someone who can make some runes. I pity your house for producing such a pathetic heir. No wonder why I never heard of Krixus before you.”

And with that, the pinpoint of black matter doubled in size, growing like Kalix’s fury.

 

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair was ignoring the other two. Kristen and Raf had been dancing around both of them, primarily Kalix for this entire mission. It was too late to start acting like hard asses now. The overgrown toddler already thought he could walk all over them. He felt Raf reach out for him and he was prepared to pull away when everything went south.

He had expected some angry words from Kalix, or maybe even a thrown punch. He had not expected what had hit him. His senses picked up the change in magic only just before the crushing weight crashed down onto his shoulders.

With his current injuries, Alistair would have probably been dead right there if it were not for several defensive runes that had long been laid into his clothes and armor. Without Alistair's focus to pick out the ones he wanted to activate, they all flared to life hoping to save their wielder. Some fought against the cold of the void, others attempted to counteract the damage being done to his body by healing, while others just tried to strengthen him to better handle the gravity. It was just barely enough to keep him going.

This idiot was really trying to kill him. Maybe that was Alistair's fault for being careless. The Academy had changed, but there were some students who still preferred the old ways. Just because Alistair wasn't one of them did not mean he was safe.

His mind scrambled for what his next move could be, but it was difficult to focus with the cracking of even more of his ribs. This type of fighting wasn't his best forte, but he had to do something.

It wasn't only him, but even some of the nearby soldiers that they were supposed to be protecting, had been caught in the gravitational field.

At first, his mind came up with ideas to try and push out concussive blasts or something to confuse Kalix, but another rib cracking erased the ideas. He was about to die. This was a battle for survival. No need to worry about subduing the guy. Besides, he wasn't sure that he could. Alistair had to try and kill him. He just needed one shot to make this work.

Alistair activated the eye rune on his right arm. It was connected to the runes he had put on his companions during their actions in the first city. They should all still be there since he had not made anymore. The runes were connected. He could blow up the one on Kalix, but...he had not idea how long he would lose that arm. It would likely eventually go back to normal, but it could be useless for days if not weeks.

Even so, it was better to be armless than dead. He began the spells as the rune started to flare. It would take a few seconds to activate, so he just had to survive long enough.

Kristen Pirian Raf Kalix

 

[Kristen Pirian]

One lesson was making itself ever more known to Kristen as her training in the Academy progressed: violence, true violence, was sudden and quick. In the blink of an eye did it begin, and in a blur did its duration pass—blessings ought to be counted if one were afforded the occasional hyperawareness which led to some measure of slowness amongst it.

No such blessings could be counted on this occasion.

Kalix was unleashing his magic. The nearby soldiers and elven survivors were all backing away with varying degrees of alarm. One of the soldiers called to a companion, "Bring Lord Banick!" None tried to interfere, for the soldiers knew too well what these youths were and the elves were all too frightened and weakened by their ordeal.

Kalix had shrugged off Raf's hand.

Kristen came forward. Desperate, pleading hands grabbing hold of Kalix and his shirt. Unknowingly, one of her hands was directly on top of the rune Alistair was set to detonate.

Big, beseeching eyes trying to lock onto his. Urgency in her tone. "Kalix! You must stop this at once! You must!"

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Panic rose in his chest.

It was an emotion that pierced so suddenly and quickly that he wasn't sure how to process it. Over the years he had dulled himself to the world. Everything around him had been part and parceled. Compartmentalization had been the way he had survived the Academy.

All the pain.

All the fighting, all the punishment was locked away behind a wall. He didn't care, he didn't make himself care. It was his only way of surviving, of seeing himself through all the horrors that Initiates endured. Some might have called him weak for it, but it was the only way he knew.

He had survived this long because he had never taken part in things like this. Even before the Revolution he had tried to make himself as small as possible. Liliana and her bullies didn't pick on him, no one acknowledged him, hell even the Proctors seemed to forget about him half the time.

It had worked, until now.

Now he found himself in a situation he could not ignore.

Kalix's intention was obvious, more than. He had outright said it, and with those words came the tumble of Panic through Raf's chest. He remembered Kristen's words, the promise he had given, what that all had meant to him.

For a brief second, a heartbeat he hesitated. Then suddenly he took in a breath, and magic flooded into him. For the second time that day he drew upon the mirror of Kalix's power. His lips parted as he shouted at his fellow Initiate. "Sto-"

He couldn't even finish.

The weight of power drove through him.

They called him a mimic, but what he was truly was a mirror. Kalix's magic drove through him like an iron spike. It's power grew and grew, lashing out and chaining around the other Dreadlord's ability as Raf did his best to rip it to shreds.

The trouble was, his own abilities were never as good as the original.

Yet he tried. He did his best. He remembered Kristen's words and took more upon himself than he ever had before. The crushing weight of that black abyss fell in on him as he tried and tried, pressed with all the force he could muster as he lashed out at Kalix to try and stop him.

 

[Kalix]

Seeing Alistair struggle made Kalix grin. Proctor Novgorodoff was right: the point of the revolution was to allow the weak to put restrictions on the strong. And right now? Kalix had never felt stronger.

The thing with gravity is that one needed to exercise control, always. And Kalix had always exercised control, even if to everyone else it seemed like he hadn’t. Kalix had always used his magic in a small and somewhat confined perimeter. His fists, the head of his pernach, his foot, himself, other bodies, a rock. Back when he had raised just a little over a hundred or so elves, that was still control.

His fury made him care little for control.

Kalix may not have killed the most people in his class, plenty others have killed far more enemies, initiates and (or) innocents. They could have that title. But when it came to pure, raw power? The power to actually bring an entire city crumbling down? That was what Kalix claimed for himself. And it felt…

So
Damn
GOOD.​

Kalix hardly registered Kristen coming over to him. Her touch felt like nothing more than the caress of a faint breeze. Her voice didn’t reach his ears. All the initiate heard was the roar, the rush, of magic that had dwelled within for so long. Finally, the unregistered emotions that were deep inside also came forth.

The guilt he had for ratting out his brother for also having magic, which meant that their mother was imprisoned. Maybe killed. Kalix didn’t know, but he did care about it, sometimes late at night when he took care of the strays. The disgust he felt for his brother when he took on a lover at the academy, hating that boy’s face more still than he hated Alistair. And all the little things in between: the torture, the pain, the punishments. The death, the blood, the viscera, the monsters.

And all that water.

If Kalix were to drown then he only wanted to drown in his own power.

Kalix screamed, primal and hauntingly as he felt it all slip away. Blazing eyes found Raf. Was he trying to stop him? Let him try. LET HIM TRY TO MATCH MY MIGHT. Kalix couldn’t form words but his thoughts rang loud and clear in his head, everything emptying out to just focus on one thing: gravity.

Veins popped out in bright crimson all along Kalix’s body at the strain, eyes bloodshot. It started with a nosebleed but within seconds blood was pouring out from any and every place it could. Kalix could feel the blood running down the inside of his thighs as if he were a preteen getting their first period. His ears popped, and Kalix could hear nothing else.

No that wasn’t true. There was a sound. He could hear the ocean. Funny, that he could only hear the thing he hated most.

All around the initiates stretching on for a mile or more, the gravity was unstable. Density was hardly what it was supposed to be. Some places allowed for things in that vicinity to float, other places had things feel a hundred times heavier, one place was arctic-cold and others were as hot as the sun, the rocks and earth scorched and melting as if it were candle wax. Some places seemed to push things away from their diameters while others seemed to pull things towards a certain radius.

The focus on Kalix’s might was no longer just on Alistair, but everywhere and anywhere all at once. And here and there, more of those small pin prints of dark matter appeared.

Alistair Krixus Kristen Pirian Raf

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The pressure on Alistair's body only seemed to increase, but it was impossible to truly say. His body had gone numb, likely his mind trying to shut down the pain so as to allow Alistair more time to think. Although, their wasn't much left to think about.

It was clear from Kalix's appearance that he was degrading rapidly. He was pushing himself, all to kill him.

The spell was finished. Alistair simply had to finish the last trigger and it would go off. He tried to call out to Kristen and tell her to move, but he could not speak. His lungs were being crushed, breathing was just barely possible so speaking was out of the question. He would just have to apologize to her later, because survival was more important than if an ally got her hand severely messed up. They could hang out in the infirmary when they got back.

Sorry, Kalix. I did not want to have to do this.

The surprising part of that was that Alistiar realized he truly meant that. Sure, he disliked Kalix. In fact, it was borderline hate. They were too much opposites of each other, and now the guy was trying to kill him. However, he also understood how fucked up one became as a dreadlord. All the trauma was different from person to person, but it still screwed them up in the end.

Enough people tried to kill Dreadlords on a daily basis, it seemed a shame that they also kept trying to kill each other.

Alistair activated the spell and left the magical energy flow through. The first reaction was his hand seized up with a burning pain like nothing he had ever felt before. If he could have, he would have screamed. The pain was the final straw as the pure amount of pain and pressure finally forced Alistair to pass out from exhaustion.

Next came the Boom! as the eye runed on Kalix detonated with pure arcane force.

Kristen Pirian Raf Kalix

 

[Kristen Pirian]

It was only getting worse. Her desperate diplomacy had failed. Kristen could feel the strange tides of gravity in flux, like a bedlam of hands upon her, grasping suddenly and disappearing just as sudden, pulling or pushing this way and that.

She would have tried to pull back. To gain a step of distance and call upon her own magic in the attempt forcefully dissuade Kalix from his current course.

If she had acted a second sooner, she might have been able to.

Alistair detonated his rune. The entirety of Kristen's right hand vanished in the burst of unleashed arcane force from the rune. The end of her gauntlet was made jagged, teeth of twisted metal all that remained, each aglow with the lingering remnants of that power.

The shock was but for a singular moment delayed, Kristen looking with an ashen face at where her hand used to be.

And then she fell back.

Crying out in wretched terror and agony.

Raf Kalix Alistair Krixus

 

[Raf]

Time itself seemed to slow.

Black spots flickered into existence, the crushing push and pull of gravity encasing the area as Raf and Kalix fought against one another. The struggle seemed to loom within the aether of existence itself. Tearing at the very fabric of reality and slowly beginning to pluck it into pieces. The strain was horrendous.

Raf felt like he was being pulled apart at the seams while at the same time being pressed into thicker and thicker layers. His whole body strained. Every muscle tense, every blood vessel stretching and yet constricting. Blood began to poor from his nose, seep into the white of his eyes.

He couldn’t hear anything.

His sight became blurry.

He saw Kristen through the haze, just barely. Her hand on Kalix’s shoulder. He couldn’t tell if she said anything, if she spoke. Everything was a blur. He could barely tell what was going on. The press of the magic he was holding onto, the power that Kalix was bringing down onto the clearing. Behind them buildings began to shake, quiver. The very earth beginning to rend itself apart.

Raf could feel himself bend. Could feel his entire body begin to sway as the mimicry of his magic slowly began to collapse. First a piece, then another, then another. It all slipped away under the other Initiate’s impressive might. His form quivered. Splotches of red and purple appeared on his skin. Massive bruises building underneath his skin as gravity itself pressed further in on him.

He buckled.

His knees fell out from under him, his eyes fissured. One of them suddenly popping with a gruesome spray of fluid.

A whimper passed by Raf’s lips, his throat catching the sound before his vocal cords ever had real time to reverberate. A horrid dryness passed over his tongue, and then he looked up at Kristen. ”I’m so-”

Before he could finish. Before his failure could be realized, the explosion went off. The rune Alistair activated lashed out, fire and concussive force ripping outward and shattering what concentration Raf had been holding onto.

In that instance all the magic he had been hanging onto, the remainder of his stolen might slipped away. It reverberated and lashed, like a cable that had been bearing too much weight. His whole body twisted, and in the aftermath of the explosion the sound of wrenching flesh and shattered bones echoed out. Raf’s body collapsed in on itself, ripping, tearing, and turning the apprentice into little more than rent flesh.

Not a corpse, but a mangled pile of meat.

Barely recognizable as human.

 

[Kalix]

BOOM!

Kalix howled in pain, Alistair’s rune going off in a flash.

Somewhere off in the distance he heard Kristen scream.

Then he felt a hot and heavy spray of liquid coating over him.

Kalix turned his head slowly, feeling like he had no control. Someone else was in charge now, yes, and all he could do was watch. He saw the mangled heap of meat. He looked over again, seeing Kristen, without a hand. That was when he noticed his arm, or rather, the lack of one. He see the absence of flesh, see a sliver of bone that had shattered from the rune. Pieces of him were now embedded in his heavy armor. Yet, he felt nothing.

Kalix closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was viewing the scene from somewhere else. No longer in his body. Somehow aware of everything. Raf was dead. His magic had done that. Kristen, that stupid sap, crying bloody murder. And then there was Alistair.

Fuck Alistair.

Kalix took in a deep breath, and a curious thing happened. Those little black holes, smaller than a gnat, converged together, moving towards one another. Some of the townsfolk, some of Banick’s men were unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time. Pieces of them, the pieces that those pin prints converged together, disappeared. A finger, a ear, a toe, a knuckle, a piece of their forearm, the very tip of their nose or cheekbone.

Gone. Erased from a cellular level. For when there is a push, there cannot be a pull. These black holes amassed to nothing more than the size of a pomegranate seed, and before anything worse could happen, Kalix finally passed out from the blood loss. The moment his body hit the ground, everything went back to normal. The gravity was no longer fluctuating and that black hole, the most dangerous thing of all, disappeared.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

What Walter Banick saw upon arriving at the scene was pure disaster. The Initiates, grievously injured or, in the case of the tall boy, brought low. His own soldiers (some of the elven survivors as well) with horrid injuries of their own.

From the accounts of the eyewitnesses, one thing was certain: a fight between the Dreadlords had broken out. How it was initiated, who did what, there was no firm consensus on this, so sudden did the ordeal occur. But this was no action of the enemy. All of this damage had been done by Anirians against Anirians. Foolishly.

This put Walter into a position where he had little choice—if, indeed, he'd even the spirit to make such a choice, his anger not precluding it.

He ordered the Initiates banished from the campaign and returned to the Academy. With them he would send his own scathing report of their conduct. Of the Pirian girl, of the deceased mild-mannered boy, of the loud one, perhaps it could be expected.

But from Alistair? The young scion of House Krixus? Walter had expected better. What he would have to write concerning the promising young master would pain him greatly.

* * * * *

SAILING BACK TO OSTIA ANIR​

Explicit instructions had been given to keep the Initiates away from one another during the return trip. This, however, was a rule that the mundane House Banick soldiers weren't especially keen on attempting to enforce too hard. It was like a gentle suggestion more than anything else, lest they push too hard and provoke the wrath of what they understood to be aggressive and volatile Initiates (their one saving grace, in their minds, being that all three of the Initiates were wounded and perhaps not so much in a mood for fighting).

Kristen couldn't keep herself away from Alistair. Upon her spirit was the impress of guilt, deep and horrid. She could only apologize to the container of Raf's remains so many times. She had to talk to someone. And she was far too nervous (frightened, truly) to speak with Kalix—one may as well pour out one's hear to a hungry grizzly bear, such was her estimation of him.

Upon the deck of the ship she approached Alistair. Timid little steps. Eyes downcast, only looking up in short, hopeful flicks. Around her right wrist a cocoon of bandages and field dressings.

"Alistair," she said. Her head was hung, ponytail limply draped over her shoulder. "I'm..."

Sorry? It seemed both the appropriate and inappropriate thing to say, for she was, but it was also something even more agonizing than that. She had wanted to speak to someone about what happened, and now that she was she found herself gripped by stifling speechlessness.

The sound of the calm waters, breaking gently against the bow of the ship, filled in where she trailed off.

Alistair Krixus Kalix

 

[Alistair Krixus]

The rest of the day went by in a blur as Alistair awoke from his unconscious state. He was not surprised to learn he had several cracked or broken ribs and he had no feeling in his right arms. The more surprising bit was the state that all of his companions were in. In one case, the outright lack of companion.

As they were forced to leave, Alistair turned inward as his mind continued to go over today's events. He was trying to piece together today's events. A small part of him said it had been entirely Kalix's fault, but that sounded childish...What should he have done?

He knew his spats with Kalix were childish, but he had not wanted to let headcase walk all over him. If he let him take an inch, then he would have taken a mile. Even when he had tried to ignore him, the boy had come back at him and started this whole fight. Was Alistair supposed to sit there and take it? Had his own pride, about not being looked down on, been the real problem?

The melancholic storm of thoughts ceased for a moment as he hard someone speak behind him, but he did not turn to look at her. Instead, he chose to focus his attention on the ocean...He couldn't face her.

"What? You're angry, confused, or disappointed? It was a mistake that will ultimately be laid at mine and Kalix's feet. You should be fine."

Those were the only emotions that she should be feeling. Not sorrow, she had done nothing wrong. Instead, the fighting that Raf and Kristen had tried to stop had only served to harm them.

"Hell, they might just throw me and Kalix in prison and then lose the key. Someone like him is a liability on 90% percent of missions without certain handlers...and me...well, I lack the power to warrant putting up with an incompetent dreadlord."

The last sentence was the toughest for Alistair to admit. His entire life, he had always kept himself in control and taken things seriously, because he knew he was nothing special. Someone like him could not afford to
give them a reason to dispose of him. He could not afford one mistake, and today that mistake had come.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"You did what you had to do," Kristen said softly. Alistair was looking out toward the ocean, and in short time Kristen's own joined. She placed her sole hand on the railing. Watched the waves. "I shall protest on your behalf if an injustice is leveled against you."

Her own guilt continued to gnaw at her. Coaxing her to speak it aloud: her failings, her shame.

Focusing on Alistair's circumstances was but a temporary reprieve.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"It won't do much good...Someone is going to have to take the fall for this...Someone that will actually look as if they were punished."

They would never punish Kristen with her family. Kalix will get punished, but he will likely be too defiant to seem cowed. Raf was dead...That left Alistair to take what would likely be the brunt of the matter.

"It won't matter much anyways. Whether I am punished slightly or greatly, it will likely be the end for me receiving many high-value missions."

More specifically, missions that also came with the potential for social mobility. That was all he cared about. That was all his family cared about. He wasn't about to be an archon, so this was supposed to be his next best thing. Even that was gone.

"I'm...sorry about your hand. I couldn't see when I activated the rune, my face was being pushed into the ground."

Maybe if he had just tried a little bit harder, he could have raised his head and seen that Kristen was in the crossfire...And then what?

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

There would be consequences. Yes, there would indeed, else the new Republic would have been formed for nothing. Yet how could it be like this? Kristen didn't know what more she could truly do other than offer a strong testimony in Alistair's defense and possibly beseech Father for House Pirian's aid.

It felt awful to be so helpless.

Once again.

(As it always was)

Her hand. She looked from the sea, to the bandages at the termination of her wrist, to Alistair. "No, Alistair, this is most certainly not your fault. I take upon myself the full responsibility for this injury."

She swallowed nervously. It was time.

"I...choose the most foolish course of action. I should have acted more decisively. I should have tried to do anything else." She bit her bottom lip. "I was the one, Alistair. I asked Raf to help me intervene in another confrontation, and I just...I just...left him."

Glossy eyes cast back out over the sea.

Agonized. Lost. Ashamed.

Alistair Krixus

 

[Alistair Krixus]

"You asked Raf to help you stop the fighting of two childish initiates who were acting more akin to cats and dogs than Dreadlords...You both made the right call...none of us expected that Kalix would go that far. If anyone is to blame then it is me...We should never have forced you two into that."

Alistair smirked scornfully as he turned away from the ocean.

To think, all of this had really started when Alistair had played what he thought was a harmless joke on Kalix with the ghost...Ever since, a horrible chain reaction that led to Raf's death. It had to be one of the most fucked points of irony ever.

"Kristen, we all still have more to learn, but do not belittle Raf's choices by calling it just your decision. He knew what he was doing and chose to act as a Dreadlord..."

Alistair would have continued, he felt like he should, but he really could not think of what else to say. He wondered how the rest of Banick's venture would go without them. They had finished most of the work, so it should still be mostly a success.

"Will you still be able to...to fight? With your injury?"

She wouldn't be the first Dreadlord to retire, but she also would not be the first to fight through the handicap and die on the field of battle. Either way rarely did it end well...He was the one that had caused this handicap. He was over here complaining about his own life when he may have completely ruined Kristen's future.

Kristen Pirian

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Such was her guilt that it was almost a creature of greed, set to gorging itself on misery. The rational part of her mind knew it, even if it was reduced at present to a whisper in a crowd whilst her heart took center stage. Alistair's words helped, but she couldn't shake it just yet. Maybe in time.

Maybe.

His question took some of the focus off of her tormented thoughts and allowed her to glance over at him. Her expression felt sullen, drained, and surely she looked every bit of it.

"I don't know. My magic I could wield, but as for a weapon? I am not so ambidextrous. I will..." she let out a ragged breath, laden with worry, "...I will make certain to beseech my family for aid. There must be something that can be done. Yet still...you and I...what will become of us?"

So easy was it before to say something like this. A year and many months into the Academy, and it was already changing.

But her heart had not hardened to reticence yet.

"...I'm scared."

Alistair Krixus