From there, it becomes a lot of politics. We treat with the Oasis officials and Moonfall representatives, and the conversation makes my eyes glaze over. Luckily, they let Quell bring advisors with him to these talks, so all I have to do is stand against the wall and look tough. I’m pretty good at that—doubly so when I’m carrying the Aegis.


    To our surprise, they return Liz, Constance, Darian, and the rest of the soldiers to us without much prompting. I think keeping them was actually making them more nervous than anything; they seem just as desperate to avoid war as Quell, and harboring two injured royal children doesn’t exactly make them look innocent. In turn, Quell offered to gift the Crimson Scimitar to the Moonfall Dynasty, which just about knocked everyone in attendance on their asses. The Moonfall officials seemed shocked, and the Duneshade advisors appeared dismayed, all of which I found highly amusing.


    I’m not going to judge if that was a good or bad political decision; I’m just glad to get that sword away from the Crimson Aegis. If they ship it off to a foreign country, all the better.


    Quell did warn them about what it was capable of—what it did to his brother. He advised them to keep it under lock and key, but I don’t know if they’ll listen. Some of them side-eye me, and I can understand the skepticism. As long as Duneshade is still wielding the Crimson Aegis, I suspect Moonfall will do the same with the Scimitar. Oh well. At least it won’t be my problem.


    Liz ended up with a concussion, and Constance, though suffering significant blood loss (and a missing hand), stabilized after some rest and healing.


    They weren’t able to reattach his arm. In fact, the Scimitar didn’t seem like it was willing to give it up. The veins of magic that curled about the severed hand also dove into it, like roots of a plant, and worryingly some of them seemed severed, indicating something might still have been left behind in Constance. In the end, as the arm began to rot, Quell made the call to burn the limb off in a fire. Only then did the lines of magic fade and the sword become inert. It was quickly sheathed and packed away so no one else might accidentally form a pact with the sentient weapon in the meantime.


    “Do you think the same will happen to me?” I wonder aloud as the box housing the Scimitar is carried away to be delivered to the Moonfall leaders.


    We’re still camped outside the Oasis, though even now we’re beginning to shift people into the city. Given the tenuous peace Quell is struggling to strengthen each day, (and his troops’ dwindling supplies,) it only makes sense to relocate to the Lifespring.


    Quell is at a table, writing one of dozens of similar letters he’s crafted in the last few days. Some are to Moonfall, some are drafted and redrafted terms of ceasefire, while others still are for his parents back in the Duneshade capital.


    “Hm?” he says, dipping his quill in some ink as he continues to write.


    “Nothing,” I say, resting my cheek on my fist as I watch him work. The shield is propped against a pole of the tent nearby. Now that we’ve come to a sort of understanding, it’s less clingy than before. It doesn’t mind not being strapped to my arm and back at all times; maybe that’s its version of trust. Or maybe it’s secure enough in our pact now that it knows I won’t try to get rid of it.


    Its demonic face glints in the firelight, but mentally, it feels satisfied, if not a little restless. It’s happy we won. It always knew we would! But it also wouldn’t mind if we had more foes to defeat.


    Quell pauses, looking up. “Do I think what will happen to you?”


    I smirk. “So you were listening.”


    “Of course I was listening,” Quell says. “I can do two things at once.”


    “I don’t know. You seem to become pretty engrossed when it comes to reading or writing.”


    Quell sets his feather down and caps the ink. “That doesn’t make me entirely oblivious.”


    “Whatever you say, Quill,” I tease.


    “Do not start calling me that.” Despite his objection, he’s smiling. “So what was it you were asking about?”


    My smile fades. “I was thinking about Constance. How the Scimitar gained influence over him slowly over time.” I nod toward the Aegis. “I was wondering if the same might happen to me.”


    Quell looks troubled as well. “I’d like to say that wouldn’t happen. But…”


    “You think it will.”


    He shakes his head. “I don’t know. We only have one data point. I think it’s possible. But he’s had that sword for years. You’ve had the Aegis for six weeks. If it does influence its wielder, I think it would take quite a while for the effects to be noticeable.”


    That’s something, at any rate. Not to mention, I do have a metric I can check to keep a handle on things.


    [Weapon: Crimson Aegis]


    [Durability: 100%]


    [Mana: 0]


    [Blood: 0%]


    [Influence: 2%]


    As long as that Influence doesn’t start creeping up, I should be alright. And if Constance was at 73% after ten years, then I should only see… one percent every couple months, or so. I guess that gives me time to figure out where the shield and I stand going forward.


    “We could talk to him about it, if you like,” Quell offers.


    “Constance?” I ask, skeptical. “Is he well enough for visitors?”


    “He’s conscious and coherent,” Quell says. “At this point he just needs to drink water and rest. But I bet he’d like to speak to you.”


    I snort. “I doubt that. I cut his damn hand off.”


    “And you freed his mind,” Quell points out. “I don’t know that he’ll have all the answers to your questions, but it might help.”


    I chew on the inside of my cheek. I’m not even sure what answers I’m looking for. An assurance that I won’t become like him? That’s not something he can offer. But he’s also the only person that might have insight into what I’m dealing with.


    “Alright,” I finally agree. “I’m willing to talk.”


    <hr>


    Quell finishes up his work with the letters, passes them off to a courier, and then takes me to his brother’s quarters. It’s a large tent, much nicer than the one Ambassador Ashla had been confined to, yet this is just as much a cell as hers. There are spell circles on the tent flap I understand to create some sort of confinement, and while the inside is comfortable, it’s adorned with little more than a mat for some food and water. Constance is lying on a bed roll at the center of the tent, his arm bandaged and his eyes closed. I pause, having second thoughts, but Quell moves in and sits down at his brother’s side. Hesitating a moment longer, I take a seat opposite.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    “I was wondering when you’d come by,” Constance murmurs, looking up at me through barely parted eyelids. His voice is quiet and hoarse. It’s hard to picture this man as the king-to-be he always carried himself as.


    “Did you want me to?” I ask.


    “Yes.” Constance frowns. “No. I am still sorting through my thoughts.”


    “The Scimitar’s thoughts,” I suggest.


    “Perhaps.” He falls silent once more.


    I awkwardly glance at Quell, wondering if I should let him rest. He gestures for me to keep going.


    “Uh. Sorry about your arm,” I say.


    Quell grimaces. I lift my eyebrows at him in an exasperated “What?” You were the one who indicated I should keep talking!


    Constance lets out a sigh. “It will be an adjustment. Though we have excellent artificers in the capital. I’m sure our parents will spare no expense.”


    Oh great, he’s just going to come out of this with a badass gold-plated magical robot hand or something.


    “Though it is more the loss of the Scimitar that I lament,” he adds.


    “You can blame that one on Quell,” I say.


    Quell holds up his hands. “Hey!”


    I shrug. “I’m not the one that gave it to Moonfall.”


    Constance turns his head to look at his brother. “You did what?”


    Quell glances away with a wince. “It’s the best way to broker peace. If our kingdom held both sword and shield, the power dynamic would be lopsided. This balances things. And it’s a visible show of union: something the people of both countries can see, more tangible than papers and trade agreements.” He pauses. “And I don’t think it should be kept anywhere near you.”


    Constance presses his mouth into a hard line. “Did our parents agree to this?”


    “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Quell smiles guiltily.


    Constance scoffs. “This was foolish.”


    “Are you saying that because you want the sword back,” I ask, “or because you’re opposed to peace?”


    Constance turns his glare back on me. He looks me over for a moment, but instead of berating me, the hard edge to his expression dissolves, and he closes his eyes with a tired sigh. “I don’t know. It is all a tangle.”


    That sword has clearly messed with his head quite a bit. I guess over such a long period of time that’s to be expected. If your goals are subtly influenced over the course of years, unconsciously guiding your actions, words, and values, how do you separate that from who you are? Even if the source of the influence is gone, it’s still left its mark. It’s still shaped who you are today.


    “Could you tell?” I ask suddenly. “Were you ever able to notice what it was doing?”


    Constance’s regards me, then his gaze goes distant and his forehead wrinkles in a faint frown of concentration. “I can tell now that it’s gone. There’s a lack of anger in me that had become so omnipresent that I’d stopped noticing it. It had been this driving force. And now that it’s not there I feel… empty. Aimless. I remember wanting things with such passion, and now that the passion is gone, I am not even sure what I want anymore.”


    I think I understand what he means. When I add the Aegis to my Inventory, it seems to vanish from my mind. I’m no longer infected by its thoughts and passion—for lack of a better word.


    But unlike the Scimitar, the Aegis isn’t angry. It’s more just… arrogant and boastful. Desperate for attention. Perhaps that’s similar to how the Scimitar started out. But even if the Aegis does begin to grow in influence, I have something Constance didn’t. The ability to add it to my Inventory provides me the opportunity to take a step back and assess what thoughts might be coming from it or from me. If Constance had had such a tool, would things have turned out differently?


    “I hope you’ll figure it all out,” I say. Then I hesitate, wondering if it’s my place to say anything more. “In your shoes, I’d start with my siblings,” I add. “Think back to times before the Scimitar had any influence over you. What did you want back then? How did you feel about your country, your friends, your family? Find your bedrock and work up from there.”


    Constance gives me an appraising look. “Perhaps I will try that.”


    After he lapses into silence once more, his eyes closing, Quell gestures for us to go. We duck out of the tent, and leave Constance to rest.


    Quell looks troubled as we head back to his tent. He fiddles with his glasses, frowning at the ground while we walk.


    “You’re thinking about the Scimitar?” I guess.


    “I worry if it was a mistake to give it off to Moonfall,” Quell says. “I know I cautioned them about what it was capable of, but that might not stop it from finding its way into another wielder’s hands. What if it corrupts someone else? I’m not giving them a powerful weapon, I’m giving them a curse. Something evil.”


    I hum to myself as I think. “It’s not evil, I don’t think.”


    Quell gives me a skeptical look, and I laugh.


    “I know, I’m surprised, too.”


    He squints at me suspiciously. “That’s not the Aegis’s influence talking, is it?”


    “Given its 2% Influence stat, I doubt it,” I say. “But you’re right; I thought it was evil originally, too. But that’s not it, exactly. It’s just… overly simple. It’s got a one-track mind. To the extent that it doesn’t really have ethics, that’s true. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. It just needs a moral compass to direct its enthusiasm.


    “If the Scimitar’s personality is built entirely around the concept of wrath, then I think you could say the Aegis is built around pride,” I continue. “And pride isn’t entirely a bad thing, I think. It just needs to be used constructively. Like, being proud of one’s achievements isn’t bad. Taking pride in protecting someone isn’t bad.”


    “Like protecting me,” Quell says.


    I glance at him with a teasing smile. “Something like that.”


    Quell ducks his head self-consciously. “It’s a nice interpretation. Though I’m not sure how wrath can be directed constructively.”


    “Er.” I have to think about it. “Like, wanting revenge, maybe?”


    “That doesn’t sound very constructive,” Quell notes.


    I laugh. “Look, I’m working through this on the fly, cut me some slack.”


    We duck back into his tent, and Quell looks over the pile of letters on his desk with a sigh. Instead of heading back to work, he reclines against the edge of the table.


    “Does that mean you no longer want its pact broken?” he asks.


    I tip my head. “Maybe. We’re working things out. But it’s not an immediate want anymore. I think I’m willing to see how things develop.”


    “And the other pact you have?” Quell asks. “This Role Requirement of yours?”


    I pretend to act thoughtful about this, too. “I don’t know. The person I’m tasked to protect can sometimes act pretty dumb.”


    “Hey,” he objects.


    I plow ahead. “He keeps throwing himself into dangerous situations and dragging me along with. He’s very oblivious and can even be a bit naive.”


    “Okay, okay, I get it,” Quell says, looking away. “You know I don’t want to be dragging you into things. I hate having this power over you. I wish we were on equal footing.”


    Sheesh, the guy can’t take a joke. I lean against the table next to him and bump his shoulder with mine. “Hey, I know. It’s not your fault. I’m just giving you grief.” I smile. “You make it easy for me.”


    “Oh.” He blinks. “I guess ‘oblivious’ isn’t a completely inaccurate term.”


    I chuckle.


    “But truthfully, where do we go from here?” Quell asks. “Do we keep searching for a way to remove this Role Requirement? Should that be the next thing we focus on? What do you want?”


    “You mean after stopping a war?” I tease.


    This time he smiles, catching the hint. “Yes, after we prevent everyone from killing each other.”


    What do I want? I mean, Quell’s right to an extent: I don’t like having my autonomy taken, and I don’t like being beholden to anyone. But Quell himself isn’t so bad. I know he won’t try to abuse it. And of all the roles I could get stuck with, one that’s about helping someone, about keeping them safe, isn’t the worst.


    “If we can find a way to remove it, then let’s do that,” I say. “But first, I want to look for my brother. He’s out there in the world, somewhere. And I know a lot of time has passed now. He probably doesn’t need an older sibling to come swooping in to save him. But I love him, and I want to make sure he’s safe and happy, if nothing else.”


    “Then we’ll do that,” Quell says, leaning back against my shoulder. “We’ll search for your brother together. It’s about time you got to drag me around places for a change.”


    I exhale a small laugh. “I like the sound of that. But you know, that’s not the only thing I want.”


    Quell tips his head toward me, forehead creased with faint concern. “Oh? What else? Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be able to gather the resources to help.”


    I grin, looking up at him. “You really are oblivious.”


    I gently grab the front of his shirt, and I can sense blood flushing through his cheeks in response. I pull him down to me, and he doesn’t resist. He leans in, and I close the gap.


    Electric warmth sparks through me as we kiss. My teeth lightly graze his lips and tongue, but I’m careful not to draw blood. Quell’s hand comes up to grab my shoulder, pulling me close. After a moment, we break away, breathless.


    “For the record,” Quell says, “I’m not oblivious. I just didn’t think the circumstances were very ideal.”


    I laugh. “Oh, well, if you’d rather wait for more ideal circumstances…”


    He looks stricken. “That’s not what I—”


    “I know.” And I kiss him again.