《Devil's Daughter》


 Beginning in the Middle

    I¡¯m not sure where this story starts, or if it really even has a beginning, so I suppose I¡¯ll just start somewhere in the middle and hope it all comes together by the end. Though, there isn¡¯t really an ending, either, if there isn¡¯t a beginning.


    You see, this isn¡¯t really a story, so much as my life, and life isn¡¯t really set up to have convenient expositions and resolutions. Life is just a series of conflicts that sometimes never see any kind of conclusion.


    I can already promise you that no part of this makes for a decent ending. It will be unsatisfying, and you will be left either realizing that you wasted your time, or wanting more.


    So, delaying no longer, I suppose I¡¯ll begin.


    I¡¯ll begin in the middle.


    At the edge of my 25th winter, with the cold winds and snow flurries just creeping down from the north, I decided to visit a place from my youth, hoping to bathe in the fond memories that had been born there.


    It was my first home, which I shared with the only family I ever really had.


    I arrived at dusk, with the sun just settling behind the mountains. The air had a bitter, cool sting to it, and I was in a hurry to get inside.


    Sitting at the top of that hill was a large, stone building, though to call it that was to recall my own memories of it. Upon my return, it did not resemble such a thing, with only two walls still standing. The rest was a mound of collapsed stone bricks, covered in brown ivy and dead grass.


    It had crumbled into less than a shadow of the home it once was.


    Nonetheless, I ventured inside, crawling through an opening in the broken wall.


    Inside, there was a young girl.


    ¡°What are you doing out here?¡± I spat. This place was supposed to be mine. I didn¡¯t want to share it with anyone, let alone a stranger.


    The girl was asleep, curled up and shivering. All she had on was a grimy dress and a pair of ruined slippers.


    She must have been freezing.


    Freezing, and probably starving. The girl was so thin that her dress hardly fit her.


    I took a chunk of stale bread from my pack and tore a piece off.


    ¡°Wake up, girl.¡± I said, giving her a shake.


    ¡°Wake up, now. I¡¯ve got some food for you.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± The girl moaned as she came to.


    When she saw the piece of bread in my outstretched hand, her eyes opened wide, and she snatched it away from me.


    Her eyes.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Her bright, red eyes.


    They were just like mine.


    I had never met anyone with eyes like mine, before.


    Though, hers were even brighter than mine.


    Where mine were crimson, as dark as blood, hers were shining stones, like rubies.


    ¡°W-who are you?¡± I asked nervously.


    She looked up at me, still chewing, and a smile slowly spread across her face. She scrambled in the pocket of her dress for something, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She carefully unfolded it, looking between the paper and me, and jumped to her feet.


    ¡°Papa!¡±


    She handed me the paper.


    It was a hand-drawn picture of a young man that looked just like me, red eyes and all, though this was back when I had longer hair, and kept it swept back. I had kept my hair shorter for quite some time now, so this picture must have been at least eight years old.


    The girl also looked to be around eight.


    Suddenly, I realized what she meant.


    ¡°Uh, no, I¡¯m not, uh¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t bring myself to say.


    I¡¯m not your father.


    I couldn¡¯t say it because I wasn¡¯t actually sure if that was true.


    She did look like me.


    ¡°Who drew this?¡± I asked, trying to wrap my head around what was going on.


    ¡°Mama!¡± She answered.


    Mama? Then, who was that?


    There was no way I could be this girl¡¯s father. That much was obvious, once I started thinking about it logically.


    After all, I had only ever known one woman in such a way, and that was--


    That was almost nine years ago.


    Wait, that can¡¯t be right either. That woman died a few months after we had spent the night together.


    She died.


    She died, right?


    ¡°What was her name?¡± Of course, that would be the fastest way to get my answer. It just wasn¡¯t possible for the name of the mother to be--


    ¡°Mercedes!¡± She said with a pout. ¡°How could you forget mama¡¯s name?¡±


    That¡­ wasn¡¯t possible.


    ¡°How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Seven and a half!¡± She said, holding up the accompanying fingers, the eighth one bent to show the ¡®half¡¯.


    I sat in dumbfounded silence for awhile, and the girl grew impatient.


    ¡°Come on, Papa! Mama¡¯s waiting!¡± She said excitedly.


    I had a daughter?


    ¡°If we don¡¯t hurry, you won¡¯t even get to see her!¡±


    I¡¯ve had a daughter for almost eight years?


    ¡°Papa, what¡¯s wrong? Are you sick, too?¡±


    And what¡¯s more, Mercedes was actually alive?


    ¡°Sick...too?¡± I asked, finally registering what she said. ¡°Are you sick?¡±


    The girl¡¯s excited expression had faded, replaced by an a tight frown. She looked like she was about to cry, but was trying her hardest not to. When she finally had a grasp on her emotions, she spoke.


    ¡°It¡¯s mama.¡± She said. ¡°Mama¡¯s sick.¡±


    Oh.


    ¡°She made a wish to see you one last time before she died, Papa.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say.


    ¡°Please Papa, I want to make Mama¡¯s wish come true!¡±


    I simply nodded, and followed the girl as she pulled by coat sleeve along with her. We left in the middle of the night, in the terrible cold, to find the woman I had thought was dead for eight years.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked her at some point during the night.


    ¡°Alys. What¡¯s yours?¡± She said, her cheerful attitude returning.


    Mercedes told her what I looked like, and where I was, but not my name? Actually, I had almost forgotten it myself. Nobody had called me by my name in years, and I had no reason to give it away either.


    ¡°...Mekaile.¡± I said, the memory finally coming back to me. ¡°My name is Mekaile.¡±

 2 Guilt

    There could be no denying that she was my child, not with those red eyes. It began to worry me how easily recognizable she was. There were many people who wanted to hurt me, and most of them wouldn¡¯t hesitate to hurt her first.


    Alys told me that she lived with Mercedes in Brooken, a small town to the far west, not even marked on the map. To get to Helcaste, where they currently were, on foot, it must have taken the better part of a month. She couldn¡¯t have traveled all the way alone.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there someone else with you?¡± I asked.


    Alys shook her head as she bounced along, her perpetual smile still plastered on her pale face.


    ¡°Isaac was with me for awhile, but he left when we got to the big city.¡±


    The big city? She must mean the Capital.


    ¡°Isaac? Is he a friend of your mothers?¡±


    ¡°Her brother.¡± Alys corrected.


    I didn¡¯t know Mercedes had a brother.


    The more questions I asked the girl about Mercedes, the more I realized that I didn¡¯t actually know that much about her. We had spent years together, and I had never once asked her about herself.


    That would change.


    When I saw her again, I would make this alright.


    I had already decided to stay around and help raise Alys.


    First, I just had to get rid of Mercedes¡¯ sickness, whatever that was.


    ¡°You said your mother was sick¡­ Do you know what she has?¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± Alys tapped a finger against her chin, and hummed as she thought. ¡°I think she said it was ¡®Leedle¡¯.¡±


    Leedle? That wasn¡¯t any kind of disease I had ever heard of.


    I would have to be sure to ask around whenever we took the chance to rest somewhere public, as rare an occasion as that might be.


    We came to a bridge, and Alys gave an eager hop onto the stone railing, careful to balance herself as she walked along it.


    ¡°Please be careful.¡±


    She smirked over her shoulder at me as I nervously followed behind her, arms out ready to catch her if she fell.


    It was our third day together, and we were only at the river that marked the halfway point between Helcaste and the Capital of the Sovereign Nations. In three more days, we would make it to the big city, where we would hire some transportation to the west, along the main road. We had to, or we would never get back to Mercedes in time.


    By my estimation, so long as things ran smoothly, we could take a carriage from the Capital to Lush, which would take about a week¡¯s time. Brooken couldn¡¯t be more than a day or two away from there.


    It was the safest, and quickest, plan.


    ¡°Papa, did you love Mama?¡±


    What? What kind of question is that for a child to ask?


    How was I supposed to answer?


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡± I answered.


    ¡°Mama loves you. She talks about you all the time.¡±


    ¡°I know she does.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t love her back?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, it¡¯s complicated. I thought she had died a long time ago.¡± I said.


    Alys was quiet for awhile, and we reached the end of the bridge in silence. We took up on a dirt path, and moved aside to let a wagon pass. I made sure to look down, and pulled Alys¡¯ hood over her head.


    I wasn¡¯t too worried about a passerby noticing us here on the road, but the chances of someone recognizing us, however small, were a constant threat. Better to be safe, than sorry.


    ¡°Did you love her before you thought she died?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Why does it matter?¡± I spat. I was quickly growing annoyed by this question.


    Though, it only bothered me because I didn¡¯t have an answer. Mercedes and I¡­.


    ¡°We had an unusual relationship, Alys, but I cared about your mother very much.¡±


    Alys nodded, but she had obviously been shut down by my earlier response.


    ¡°I never got the chance to tell her that, though.¡± I said with a sigh.


    Alys perked up, and wove her hand in mine. She looked up at me with a new smile.


    ¡°You can tell her when we get there!¡± She said.


    She filled me with warmth. It was a strange sensation, holding my daughter¡¯s hand, seeing her smile. These were things I had never once considered would be in my life, and they were things I decided right then and there that I never wanted to lose.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± I tried to return her smile as best I could. ¡°I¡¯ll tell her when we get there.¡±


    I looked back over my shoulder at the bridge we crossed, and an uneasy feeling washed over me.


    I could see a young woman with raven hair standing on the railing, looking down into the river below. I thought about saying something, calling out to her, but I held my tongue.


    She looked over at me, smiled weakly with tears in her eyes, and fell forward.


    Guilt and shame swallowed me as I waited to hear a splash that never came.


    ¡°What is it, Papa?¡± Alys asked, trying to look over her shoulder.


    ¡°I was just remembering the last time I saw your mother.¡±


    We reached the city by evening a couple days later.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    She became too tired to walk, constantly complaining about an ache in her feet, so I carried her on my back. She was incredibly light, even for her size. I wasn¡¯t particularly muscular, yet I could easily carry her in one hand. Had children always seemed so¡­ fragile?


    She was still asleep by the time we made it to the east gate, and I thought she might be excited to see it again, so I shook her until she grumbled.


    ¡°Are we there, Papa?¡± She asked, sleepily wiping her eyes and stretching out to accompany a wide yawn.


    ¡°We made it to the big city.¡± I said. ¡°We need to be sure to keep our hoods up here, okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Papa. Isaac used to say the same thing.¡±


    He was smart enough to tell her that much, but he left her alone here? That much just didn¡¯t make sense. He was obviously aware that there was danger here for a person with the misfortune to share the signature trademark of my eyes. So, why did he abandon her?


    No, I had no right to judge him. He had been with her before I even knew she existed. He had been around when I wasn¡¯t.


    I wondered if Alys hated me for not being around when she was growing up. She accepted me so quickly, so easily, but how? In reality, she had just met me.


    ¡°Papa, Papa!¡± She cried out, swinging back and forth on my back, trying to climb onto my shoulders. She was pointing at something. ¡°Papa, look! Look!¡±


    They were headed this way.


    Damn!


    These were the last people I wanted to see. I had hoped we could avoid them, but I suppose that was foolish to think possible here in the Capital of the Sovereign Nations.


    Knights, clad in bright, polished steel, with swords strapped around their waists.


    I thought about dodging into an alley, but they could already see us, it would only draw their attention right to us. No, the best thing would be to act casually, and hope none of them recognized us. I moved off the road to let them pass, but kept walking.


    ¡°Hello, heroes!¡± Alys shouted. ¡°Hello! Hello!¡± She was waving her hands wildly.


    No wonder Isaac abandoned her here, I thought.


    I immediately regretted thinking that.


    ¡°Alys!¡± I hissed. ¡°Stop it!¡±


    The knight in the front, a tall man wearing no armor, but instead a tight-fitted jacket, smiled warmly, waving back. He looked right at us. I made the mistake of meeting his eyes.


    The officer, as evident by his uniform, did not change his expression. He continued to smile warmly, and even gave a short nod towards me.


    He met my eyes, yet acted like a man with red eyes was nothing out of the ordinary. How could that be? He had to have heard of me, at least.


    The officer turned away, pushing on down the road with a confident stride.


    I held tight onto Alys¡¯ ankles and jogged away. I wasn¡¯t sure what was going on, but I didn¡¯t want to let this opportunity go to waste.


    ¡°Did you know the handsome man, Papa?¡± Alys asked.


    ¡°No.¡± I said shortly. I was still occasionally looking back, making sure we weren¡¯t being followed. If I didn¡¯t look suspicious before, I certainly do now.


    ¡°He looked like he knew you, though.¡± She said.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Alys pouted, but I was too preoccupied to care. Why had we come through the Capital? It was too dangerous, and I knew it. So, why?


    Transportation. We needed to find some transportation and leave as soon as possible. As long as we made it out without stirring anything up, everything would be fine.


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry, Papa.¡±


    ¡°How hungry?¡±


    ¡°Really, really hungry. Can we get something to eat?¡±


    ¡°Can it wait until we leave?¡±


    I could hear her stomach growl at the suggestion.


    ¡°Alright.¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll get something to eat.¡±


    Okay, so we would grab a quick bite to eat, then leave. It wouldn¡¯t be very longer, and I was sure we could avoid being seen long enough to find some easy food, something we could pick up and take with us.


    ¡°I want steak.¡± She said.


    ¡°I can¡¯t afford that!¡±


    This girl was going to be the death of me.


    ¡°We need to get something you can eat on the road. We can¡¯t stop.¡± I told her.


    ¡°Like what?¡± She asked, more interested than she should have been.


    ¡°Like¡­ bread?¡± I answered,


    ¡°Yuck.¡± She turned her nose up.


    ¡°What about some fruit? I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a stand on the way to the stable¡­¡±


    ¡°Apples?¡±


    ¡°You want an apple?¡±


    She nodded vigorously.


    ¡°Alright, keep an eye out. Let me know if you see one.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Papa.¡±


    We ended up looking for food too long, and by the time we reached the stables, the sun had already set, and there were no carriages going out. We had to spend the night in the big city.


    In the end, I decided to go with an inn in the slums, away from the eyes of the knights. The only thing we had to worry about was thieves, but I figured we didn¡¯t have much on us worth stealing, anyways.


    I was still kicking myself for being dumb enough to head right into the center of a country that wanted me dead. If it was just me, it wouldn¡¯t be a problem. But, it wasn¡¯t just me.


    Not anymore.


    I had tucked Alys into the bed not too long ago, and she was already fast asleep, the blanket rising and falling with her slow breathing.


    She looked so peaceful, like there wasn¡¯t anything in this world that could bother her.


    I knew better than that, though. I knew exactly how cruel this world could be. If you let your guard down for a second, there were people who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to take advantage of you.


    It reminded me something she had asked me while we ate.


    Are you a bad guy? She asked. There wasn¡¯t any fear or judgement in her voice when she asked. If I had simply answered in the affirmative, I¡¯m sure she would have just nodded, as if admitting to be a ¡®bad guy¡¯ was a completely reasonable option.


    I could never tell her such a thing, but I couldn¡¯t lie to her either.


    So, I told her what I truly believed.


    There are no villains in this world, I said. People are all capable of the cruelest deeds, and the greatest of intentions. Everyone is the hero of their own story, and they all run into conflict as some point with someone.


    It sounded more like an excuse now, as the words lingered in my mind, but it was still how I saw the world. It had to be, after the things I had done.


    I didn¡¯t want to see myself as an evil man.


    ¡°Papa?¡± She asked, leaning up. ¡°You¡¯re awake?¡±


    ¡°I am. Go back to sleep.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to sleep anymore. I have bad dreams.¡±


    ¡°Want to talk about them?¡±


    She hesitated, but eventually she shook her head.


    I smiled. ¡°You know, I used to have bad dreams, too.¡±


    ¡°How did you get rid of them?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Before I fall asleep, I think about what¡¯s important to me, and I imagine having that important thing. Then, I dream about it.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the important thing to you?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Well, my friends have always been important to me.¡±


    Alys sat thinking for awhile.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any friends, but I would be happy if you and Mama could both be my parents together. That¡¯s important to me.¡±


    ¡°You still want me to be a father to you, even though I wasn¡¯t around when you were growing up?¡± I asked nervously.


    She nodded without hesitation. ¡°Of course I want you to be my Papa! Mama always said we couldn¡¯t tell you because you had a really important job to do, and that she would find you when the time was right. It isn¡¯t your fault that you didn¡¯t know about me.¡±


    She said exactly what I wanted to hear with a grin on her adorable face.


    How did I help make something so pure?


    She became suddenly concerned, asking ¡°Are you okay, Papa? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t realized I had been crying until I felt the water slip down my cheek.


    ¡°I¡¯m just very happy, Alys. I¡¯ve never¡­ I didn¡¯t think I would¡­ Have a family. I never thought I deserved to have one.¡±


    She climbed out of the bed, dropping to the floor with a thud, and ran over to the chair I was sitting in. She hopped on my lap and wrapped her little arms around my neck.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Papa. Don¡¯t cry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not crying.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Papa.¡±


    I picked her up and tucked her back into the bed.


    ¡°Thank you. Now, get some sleep. We need to get up early in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Papa.¡± She replied.


    I couldn¡¯t sleep that night. Guilt was twisting my stomach in knots. I had a terrible feeling that something good was happening to me.


    To me, of all people.


    The Red Devil.

 3 Ghosts

    Somehow, we managed to make it to the stable in the morning without any trouble. I paid a carriage the last of the money I had on hand, which admittedly wasn¡¯t much, and he was willing to take us as far as Achim¡¯s Crossing.


    That was fine, I thought. So long as we get out of this city as quickly as possible. Before--


    ¡°Were you going to leave without saying ¡®hello¡¯, Red?¡± A voice asked from behind.


    A familiar voice.


    I had to turn around to confirm it with my own eyes.


    Booker Clarke.


    The Cold Swordsman.


    He stared at me with his cold, blue eyes. His face expressionless, his hard features set in an unreadable mask. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.


    He crossed his muscular arms over his chest, and though he was leaning against a post, he still towered over me. He hadn¡¯t brought a sword with him, though, and that was a good sign.


    He hadn¡¯t come to fight.


    I hesitated to answer. We hadn¡¯t spoken in years. The last time we¡¯d had a conversation was just before I slid a blade through his father¡¯s heart.


    I doubted Booker had forgiven me for it.


    How could he?


    ¡°I¡¯m in a hurry.¡± I said.


    I couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say. There was nothing else to say. Not between us.


    We were two people who had lost any kind of connection, except for an unresolved wronging.


    ¡°You must be, coming through my city. You¡¯re as arrogant as ever.¡± He said.


    There was no malice in his voice, but the words still seemed to carry animosity with them. He was still angry. Of course he was. Had I been hoping otherwise? Did I want him to forgive me?


    No, that wasn¡¯t it. I had given up on Booker Clarke long ago.


    But, why was he acting so casual? Why had he left his sword behind?


    ¡°What do you want, Booker?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to see if the rumor was true.¡±


    ¡°What rumor?¡±


    ¡°One of my officer¡¯s claimed to see the Red Devil yesterday with a young girl on his shoulders who looked just like him. I didn¡¯t believe him, of course, but I had to see for myself. So, where¡¯s the girl?


    As if summoned, Alys skipped over to my side, and wove her hand in mine. When she noticed Booker, she hid behind my leg, only peeking around it.


    Booker looked even more afraid than she did. He had begun to sweat, and his composed expression had collapsed into confusion and terror.


    ¡°What?¡± Was all he could say. ¡°She¡­ Yours?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°...¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what kind of answer he was looking for. He probably thought I wasn¡¯t capable of having kids. It was a painful reminder that he didn¡¯t even see me as human.


    He caught himself staring, his jaw agape, and was quick to reaffirm his lack of expression. When he looked back at me, he gave a slight nod.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m supposed to do here, Red.¡± He said quietly. ¡°So, I suppose I¡¯ll do nothing, for now. I have enough problems right now, and you¡¯ve been relatively quiet for sometime now. I was sure you¡¯d gotten yourself killed...¡±


    His voice trailed off as spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m not dead, yet.¡± I said. ¡°And I don¡¯t intend to die anytime soon, either.¡±


    Booker nodded, understanding my warning.


    ¡°You will either live for your daughter¡¯s sake, or be cut down by my own blade. I will accept no other option.¡±


    He was resolute, as if those actually were the only two paths available. Booker had always been a very decisive person, with a narrow vision. He only ever saw what was immediately before him.


    I thought then that it was probably the reason he was losing the war, too, but that¡¯s not my story to tell.


    ¡°...As such, you must be aware that a dangerous man is looking for you.¡± Booker added.


    ¡°Oh? I¡¯m not--¡±


    Not too worried, is what I almost said, but then I remembered the warmth in my palm, and looked down at Alys, who was still eyeing Booker, though not as suspiciously as before.


    One dangerous man was not a threat to me alone, but I wasn¡¯t alone anymore.


    I looked back up at Booker, who must have seen the worry twist my face.


    ¡°Elijah, a bounty hunter from the west. Apparently he¡¯s the one who caught Rorick Morien, way back when.¡±


    It took me a minute to place the name, but if I remembered correctly, Rorick Morien was the knight-commander during the last war. He fled after a failed attempt on the king¡¯s life, and was caught and executed by an unnamed bounty hunter.


    ¡°That would make him a dangerous man, indeed.¡± I said.


    ¡°He came to me about a week ago, but I had no information to give him. Should he return, I shall be too busy with the war to meet with him. Though, I would still be very cautious on your travels, wherever it is you¡¯re taking the girl.¡±


    He added that last part as if to emphasize the point that he was warning me for Alys¡¯ sake, and not my own. He didn¡¯t want me to think he was trying to help me.


    I smiled, and turned away to return to the stable without saying anything else. I was worried, if I opened my mouth to speak, I would end up thanking him anyways, and that wouldn¡¯t be good for either of us.


    ¡°Papa, who was that?¡±


    ¡°An old friend.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t look that old.¡±


    I tried to chuckle, but it came out as more of a sob.


    ¡°Was he friends with Mama, too?¡± She asked, looking over her shoulder to catch a last glimpse of the mysterious man.


    ¡°They never really got along.¡±


    ¡°Did they hate each other?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they hated each other, but they didn¡¯t like each other, either.¡±


    Alys went quiet, but her scrunched face made it obvious that he was trying, in vain, to comprehend what that meant.


    ¡°Hate is a strong word, Alys, and while it is easy to dislike someone, it is much harder to hate them.¡±


    ¡°Mama hates a lot of people.¡±


    ¡°Your mother has always had very intense emotions, but for every person she hates, she loves someone just as much.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°She only ever talked about loving you, though.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, sometimes I think she loved me as much as she hated everyone else put together.¡±


    I thought I had said too much, but Alys didn¡¯t seemed bothered at all by it. She probably didn¡¯t understand that it wasn¡¯t a compliment. There were times when Mercedes¡¯ love for me was overwhelming. Eventually, it crossed the border into obsession, and became something much closer to worship. It was a love I could never have returned.


    I helped Alys into the carriage, and yelled to the driver that we were all set to go.


    The cabin wasn¡¯t very large, but then, neither was the girl. She said she was eight, but she seemed too small to be that old.


    ¡°Do you love her that much, too?¡± She asked as the carriage lurched forward.


    ¡°I care very deeply for you mother.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t love her?¡± Alys pried.


    She was persistent, just like her mother.


    ¡°I loved her enough to make a baby with her.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t even know you were making a baby!¡±


    This time, my laugh came out true. A great, hearty laugh that bellowed out of me like a sweet aroma spilling out a bakery window.


    How was I supposed to explain the night Mercedes¡¯ and I spent together in an innocent enough way for her to understand? Sure, we didn¡¯t know a baby would come of our first, and only, night together, but it was certainly a possibility that we understood going in.


    Perhaps it was better if I waited until she was older to talk to he about that.


    Though, when I looked at her, I wondered if I would ever be ready to tell her about that night. It started me thinking about the future.


    Her future.


    What if she fell for a boy who treated her the way I had treated Mercedes? What if Alys ended up throwing herself off a bridge, too? I very much doubted that suicide survival was something that was passed down through blood, but I didn¡¯t want to test it, either.


    I decided then that I wouldn¡¯t let boys come near my daughter until I had made certain of their character, first.


    As we traveled, I created a checklist in my head of all the things a boy needed to be able to date Alys, when she came of age.


    It was a very long list.


    Thinking about Mercedes had already forced my mind to remember things about the past I wished I had forgotten, but seeing Booker again was what made me start remembering the things I missed.


    The days Booker and I spent training together, and our struggle to rise to fame as knights. It all seemed so much simpler, then.


    These were things I wished I could remember, but seemed more like moments I had hardly been a part of, and were thus nothing more than hazy patches of the past.


    We weren¡¯t far from the Capital when I looked out the window and saw a young man on a hill, clad in steel armor up to his head, kneeling down. He had his head in his hands, and was sobbing. His tears fell towards a body lying before him, and it was a body I recognized. It was Oliver Clarke.


    It was Booker¡¯s father, the man I killed. That meant, it was Booker who was kneeling down, crying. He looked over at me, looking right at me, his usually cold eyes burning with hatred and animosity.


    ¡°Papa?¡±


    Alys tugged at my shirt.


    ¡°Papa, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I had to wipe the sweat from my brow.


    First Mercedes, now Booker? Why was I seeing them now, these moments from my past, so vividly?


    They were like the ghosts of moments I had forced myself to forget, now getting their revenge as I was forced to remember.


    The moments I wished I could change, if I could go back in time. The things I regretted most.


    I was worried what would come next.


    ¡°Papa, you¡¯re scaring me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± I answered.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look okay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± I repeated.


    ¡°...Okay.¡±


    We sat in silence for a while after that.


    ¡°We need to do something about our eyes.¡± I said.


    ¡°I can see just fine, Papa.¡±


    ¡°I know you can. I meant, we need a way to hide our eyes.¡±


    ¡°Why do we need to hide our eyes?¡±


    ¡°They are red, and most people are afraid of red eyes.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t entirely true. Most people were afraid of me.


    We took a short break in a small town on the side of the road, maybe a day¡¯s travel from the Capital. I woke Alys from her nap and decided to take her into town to see if we couldn¡¯t find something useful.


    ¡°Here, try this on.¡± I told her, as I handed her an old iron helmet. It was designed for women, and smaller than usual, so I thought it might fit.


    She vigorously shook her head, tossing her golden hair back and forth.


    ¡°It¡¯s ugly!¡± She cried out. ¡°Not cute at all!¡±


    I was amazed she could say that, in her dirty dress. I had washed it twice now, and still the grime would not come out. It was stained that way. She didn¡¯t seem to mind at all.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be cute.¡± I asserted. ¡°It needs to be useful.¡±


    She puffed out her cheeks and pouted.


    With a sigh, I returned the helmet to its stand in the store.


    ¡°Can I help you find anything?¡± The store clerk asked, wandering over.


    It was dark enough that I didn¡¯t worry about him being able to see my eyes, but there was always the chance of being recognized anyways, this close to the Capital. I wanted to avoid as many interactions as possible. I planned to politely shoo the clerk away.


    ¡°If I have to wear a hat, it has to be cute!¡± Alys enthusiastically told the clerk.


    ¡°We have a few hats in the style of the Southern Islands that I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find adorable, young miss.¡± Said the clerk, with a motion of his hand to lead her to the back.


    As I followed, letting out another heavy sigh, we passed by another helmet atop an empty armor stand.


    It felt familiar somehow. It obviously stood out among the other decrepit options. This helmet was black, with red painted over two thin eye slits, and horns curving out the back in a swept-back angle.


    It was my helmet, back when I was a knight. It was the armor that Jaekyll had comission for me as a gift on the day of my induction. What was it doing here?


    I tried to remember where I had left it, but I couldn¡¯t. It had been so long since I¡¯d seen it.


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± I mumbled.


    The clerk turned around. ¡°What was that, sir?¡±


    ¡°This helmet. Where did you get it?¡± I asked louder, turned to face the clerk.


    He had a bewildered expression on his face, his head tilted in confusion. ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir, I don¡¯t understand. Which helmet?¡±


    I was getting impatient, and went closer to the helmet to put my hand on it, but when I turned back, it was gone. Like it had never been there at all. Instead, there was just the empty armor stand.


    ¡°I¡­¡± I started, hardly able to speak. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ve been mistaken.¡±


    The clerk nervously shuffled. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few helmets for sale, if you¡¯re interested in looking¡­¡± He trailed off when I turned back around. The light filtering in through the thin window crossed over my face. I could see terror envelope the clerk¡¯s face as recognition sparked within him.


    ¡°Papa, papa! This one is cute!¡± Alys called out, running over with a broad, white hat on. She twirled around gracefully, holding the hat to her head and giggling.


    ¡°How much for the hat?¡± I asked in a low voice.


    ¡°Take it!¡± Spat the clerk, who had begun to sweat profusely, and shake slightly.


    I hesitated, then nodded. I just realized we didn¡¯t have any money left anyways. Perhaps this was for the best.


    Alys looked between the clerk and me, befuddled. ¡°But the sign said--¡±


    ¡°Just take it! Take it and leave! Please!¡± The clerk cried out, stepping back, and nearly stumbling.


    I nodded, grabbed Alys by the hand, and turned to leave.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t feel right, Papa.¡± She said.


    I nodded again, and stopped. I unfastened my cloak, folded it, and set it down on the nearest counter. It probably wasn¡¯t worth as much as the hat, but it was all I had to give.


    I looked down at Alys, who nodded and smiled in approval. I smiled back, and we left the store hand in hand.


    It was the first time I could remember doing something¡­ good. Or rather, deciding not to do the wrong thing. It was a first step on a journey towards something grand. I felt a strange sensation filling every ounce of my body. It was a familiar feeling, with a unique twist. Something like desire, yet more pure. It felt good.


    It was seeing Alys¡¯ approving smile that did it. She was proud of her father, who had done nothing but evil in his lifetime. I never wanted to see that smile fade.


    I wanted to become the man that she thought I was.


    I wanted to become a good man.


    And I had just taken the first step on that path.


    As we made it back to the carriage, I thought I saw someone sitting on top of it, their dainty feet dangling over the side. She looked up at the clear blue sky with a calm smile. When the wind rushed back, she brushed her waving, red hair away from her beautiful face. She looked down at me as we approached, and smiled so warmly, I thought I was going to melt. It was a look I received before, a long time ago.


    It couldn¡¯t be. She looked so real, sitting their. I could reach out and touch her¡­


    ¡°Papa, what are you doing?¡±


    I looked at Alys, who was staring wide eyed at me as I had begun to climb the carriage.


    When I looked back, the girl was gone.


    These¡­ visions¡­ were becoming too hard to tell from reality. Even though I knew it couldn¡¯t have been her, I couldn¡¯t help but believe. I had lost control of myself.


    That terrified me.


    It was as though I was being forced to relive my past, whether I understood these ghosts were real or not.


    A dull ache pulled at my chest.


    ¡°Sorry, Alys. I thought I saw something.¡±


    She frowned as I casually climbed inside the cabin, but eventually she followed, and the driver appeared soon after to take us further on our journey.


    I felt like I had to talk about everything. I wanted to tell someone my story, the one that was haunting me. I had to talk about it, to get it all out of my head.


    ¡°Alys, did your mother ever tell you the story of how we met?¡±


    Alys shook her head, and an eager smile jumped across her face.


    ¡°Well, would you like to hear it?¡±


    ¡°Is it a happy story?¡±


    ¡°Not always.¡±


    Alys hummed as she contemplated the offer, but not for long. She was obviously too interested to turn it down.


    ¡°I want to hear it anyways!¡± She said.


    ¡°Alright.¡± I responded. ¡°This is the story of a beautiful girl with a knack for fighting, a haphazard boy with no motivation, and the mark that bound them together.¡±

 4 Sanguine Son, Part 1

    Boys are foolish for promising things they can¡¯t keep, but girls are just as much the fools for believing them. So, when I promised Mercedes I would always be there to protect her, we were both at fault for thinking it was a promise that could be kept.


    I saved her life once from Bartholomew Black, and spewed my empty promises, which she happily swallowed. It whet the seed of obsession that I¡¯m sure was already inside her, eagerly waiting to be cultivated.


    But I¡¯m getting ahead of myself.


    I said this would be the story of how I met Mercedes, and I meant it. When you talk about the past, though, you rarely remember only what you want to remember.


    I was fifteen when I first saw her. I had just been freed from the bonds of slavery, and was quick to sell my freedom back to the people who had given it to me. I had joined the army that had saved me.


    Women were much less common to see suited up in steel, but it wasn¡¯t so rare a sight as to draw attention to her as she walked into the courtyard where the rest of us had been waiting. Yet, we all turned towards her anyways.


    She brushed her raven hair away from her face, revealing the most beautiful, sparkling green eyes I had ever seen, framed by dark lashes and strong brows. Her cherry lips curled slightly at the ends into a faint smile.


    I didn¡¯t know her name at the time, but it hardly mattered to me. I was entirely captivated by her.


    She found a seat among us in the stands that surrounded the courtyard, and sat her unusually long sword, wrapped all the way up the blade in leather, beside her.


    ¡°Welcome, recruits, to the hardest training you will ever endure.¡± A deep, scratchy voice growled as a tall man limped towards the center of the courtyard.


    I had heard about this man before from Jaekyll, but it was my first time actually seeing the instructor before. The limp made it obvious.


    ¡°My name is Jendryng, but you will refer to me only as sir, or you will be punished, do you understand?¡± He spat as he reached his goal in the center.


    Whisperings filled the air.


    Is that really who¡¯s going to teach us? He can barely walk! This old man? What a joke!


    Jendryng cupped his ear and leaned in towards us as he looked between us. ¡°Now I know I haven¡¯t lost my hearing yet. You will answer me when I speak to you, recruits.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± A young man said apathetically. His cold, pale, blue eyes lazily watched the instructor as he put on his show, entirely uninterested.


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit, lad.¡± Jendryng said. ¡°Come on down here, whoever that was!¡±


    We all put our eyes on the young man. With a sigh, he stood and began walking down the steps towards the center of the courtyard, to where Jendryng was hunched.


    ¡°Hm¡­ Let¡¯s see here¡­¡± Jendryng muttered as he scanned the rest of our faces. His eyes lit up when he saw the girl. ¡°You there, babe. Come down as well!¡±


    The girl stood, picked up her sword, and started walking. When she met the others at the center, the height difference was immediately noticeable. I hadn¡¯t realized it as she walked in, but she was much taller than even the young man, who must have been nearly six feet on his own.


    ¡°A big one, ain¡¯t ya?¡± Jendryng said, chuckling with delighted surprise. He took a few steps back, looked between the two, then nodded.


    ¡°Alright. Go ahead and fight.¡±


    The young man looked at the instructor, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind those cold eyes. Confusion? Apathy? Disappointment?


    The girl did not hesitate. She drew her blade and tossed the leather sheath aside.


    ¡°I need a weapon.¡± The young man said, holding out his hand to the instructor, but never taking his eyes off his opponent.


    ¡°Aye, that you do. Too bad you didn¡¯t bring one.¡± Jendryng said with a wicked smile. ¡°You may begin.¡±


    The girl took a step back and brought the blade up, level with her chest, pointing it towards the young man.


    As he brought his arms up to his face to defend himself, the girl crouched and kicked off from both feet, dashing towards him and instantly closing the distance.


    She was lightning when she moved, every motion was carried by quick speed and precise movements.


    The young man, however, was even faster. He side-stepped at the last second to avoid the blade, then brought his leg around and, while twisting his body, launched a heavy kick into the girl¡¯s side. She collapsed.


    The young man dropped his stance. ¡°Why are we doing this?¡± He asked the instructor, who had crept closer to inspect the girl.


    ¡°I want to see what you all can do. I¡¯ll have each of you face off one on one against each other. Hopefully the other fights prove more hopeful than this one.¡± Said Jendryng glaring at the girl as she struggled to pick herself up.


    The young man let out a heavy sigh. ¡°This is a waste of my time.¡± He added, before returning to his seat.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Jendryng asked. ¡°You stay until you lose.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be more effective to see two new fighters?¡± The young man asked.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t lose, you won¡¯t learn anything.¡±


    Jendryng looked around the crowd of us as we tried to shrink in our seats, until his gruesome gaze fell upon me. He pointed me out, and waved me down.


    I had no doubt in my ability to fight. I¡¯d survived the fighting pits for years, and there was nobody here who really threatened me. However, those had been death fights. I didn¡¯t know how to hold back, and that¡¯s what worried me the most. I didn¡¯t want to hurt someone on my first day.


    ¡°Right, stand there. That¡¯s fine.¡± Jendryng said as I nervously took position. He smiled at the young man. ¡°This one doesn¡¯t have a weapon.¡± He said mockingly.


    Jendryng put a hand on my shoulder and leaned into my ear. Don¡¯t hold back. He whispered in his low, raspy voice.


    He backed away, waved to us, and nodded. ¡°Go ahead, then. Fight.¡±


    The young man took up a different stance, this time bending putting one foot back and bringing his fists up beside his jaw. He waited for me to make the first move.


    ¡°What¡¯s with those eyes?¡±


    Someone called out from the stands.


    ¡°Are they red? What a freak!¡±


    I looked up, but I couldn¡¯t tell who it was.


    Something snapped inside of me. The door to my anger had been unlocked, it just needed a small push to open it.


    ¡°Are you going to make a move, freak?¡± The young man with the cold eyes said.


    Snap.


    It was an understatement to say that I had trouble managing my emotions well. I had never really learned to express myself, so everything just got buried on top of everything else, until it became too much of a burden and I snapped under the weight of it all.


    Right before my fight with the young man, I had snapped.


    The fight itself is nothing more than a blur in my mind, but I heard most of the details from the others afterwards.


    They said I looked more like an animal, than a knight. Without any style or stance, I charged. Moving based on pure instinct, I swung around wildly, colliding with the young man. Every punch or kick I threw, he managed to block or dodge, but he wasn¡¯t able to counter my aggressive attacks.


    The young man tried to take charge of the fight but forcing in a punch. I caught it, pushed forward, and twisted it behind him.


    Crack!


    The fight was over, and Jendryng rushed over to pull me off of the young man.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± The young man wheezed.


    ¡°Mekaile.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Booker. I¡¯ll remember you.¡±


    It had sounded like a threat, but a smile crept across his face. It wasn¡¯t a menacing smile, either. He seemed genuinely thrilled at having his arm broken.


    Jendryng and another student helped the young man to the infirmary, and dismissed the class.


    ¡°What were you thinking?!¡± Jaekyll bellowed. He was pacing back and forth, pulling at his receding hair.


    ¡°The kid can fight!¡± Jendryng said. ¡°You should¡¯a seen him! Like a wild beast!¡±


    Jaekyll turned on him with a fearsome scowl. ¡°You let it go too far!¡±


    It was impossible to see the two as brothers.


    Jendryng, hunched over and limping, was a detestable sight. His raspy voice and crooked smile made him very uncomfortable to speak to, as well.


    Jaekyll was the opposite. He was tall, well-built, handsome. He spoke with a definite presence, but he could also be gentle when he needed to be. It was obvious to see why I looked up to Jaekyll as a father, but it went beyond that. He had been the one who had pulled me out of the fighting pit that day.


    ¡°Booker Clarke is on his back with a broken arm because of you!¡± Jaekyll shouted.


    Jendryng frowned, and his face seemed to sag with it.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine. That damned boy is as tough to kill as his father.¡±


    Jaekyll sat in his chair and rubbed his face for a moment.


    ¡°Mekaile, you ought to visit that boy and apologize.¡±


    ¡°Why? It isn¡¯t my fault. Jendryng told me not to go easy on him. Besides-¡±


    Jaekyll jumped to his feet, pounding into the ground. ¡°You could have killed him! Do you understand that? People already look at you and fear you. Do you want to give them a justifiable reason to be afraid? Or do you want to be someone that can be depended on?¡±


    A lump caught in my throat, pushing all of my excuses down.


    I resigned with a nod, and agreed to visit Booker in the infirmary, though I didn¡¯t see the point. He would probably just be angry, or afraid, or both. Either way, I was probably the last person he wanted to see.


    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t the Red Devil.¡±


    Booker was smiling a wide grin when he saw me coming into the infirmary.


    ¡°What¡­ did you just call me?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t like it? I¡¯ve been trying to think of a good nickname for you.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t¡­ mad?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m mad about the arm. I¡¯m mad that I lost. I¡¯m not mad at you, though. If anything, I¡¯m mad at myself. I shouldn¡¯t have given you that opening. Until then, we were pretty even.¡±


    That isn¡¯t at all how the other watchers had described it, but I couldn¡¯t remember it myself, and I didn¡¯t want to argue with him. Not when he looked so pleased by it.


    ¡°That was really something else! It¡¯s been so long since I fought someone as good as you. That first girl certainly wasn¡¯t anything special. Where did you learn to fight like that?¡±


    I had almost forgotten about the girl. As soon as he mentioned her, I felt a strange warmth in the pit of my stomach, and I thought I was going to be sick.


    ¡°That girl¡­ Is she ok?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Huh? You¡¯d know better than I would. I was rushed here after our fight, remember?¡± He said, wiggling his bandaged elbow.


    ¡°Sorry Booker, but I feel like I should go check up on her. You hit her pretty good, you know.¡±


    He smiled, as if I had just praised him. I didn¡¯t have the heart to correct him, though. Instead, I left to go find her.


    After searching the castle for the better part of an hour, I found her outside on a hill, swinging her sword around by herself.


    I didn¡¯t want to interrupt, so I watched as she danced. Twirling, spinning, swinging. Every action was graceful, powerful, and beautiful.


    ¡°How long have you been practicing?¡± I said to myself.


    She screamed, lost her balance, and nearly fell over when the sword stuck in the dirt.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to--¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± She growled. Though, her expression changed when she realized who I was. She must have recognized me from the fight. ¡°You¡¯re the animal boy.¡±


    Animal Boy doesn¡¯t sound nearly as cool as Red Devil, I thought, making sure not to say this out loud.


    ¡°And you¡¯re the one who went down after one hit.¡± I retorted.


    Her face went red, and her lips turned up in a pout. ¡°He got lucky!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. That warm feeling in my stomach expanded, filling my whole body with the sensation.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I was looking for you, wanted to make sure you¡¯re all right.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. What about that boy? You nearly tore his arm off.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s going to be fine, I think.¡±


    ¡°Good. I want a rematch against him, when he gets better.¡±


    An awkward silence descended upon us, as we ran out of things to talk about. There were so many things I had wanted to talk to her about before, but they spilled out of my mind, leaking out with the sweat that was pouring out of me.


    It was the first time I had ever talked to a girl before, and I had never been more nervous. Facing off against killers in the fighting pits was easier than this.


    ¡°I never got your name.¡± I said.


    ¡°I never gave it.¡±


    Her reply was short, and she seemed to have grown suspicious.


    ¡°I¡¯m Mek--¡±


    ¡°Let me see your hand.¡± She cut me off.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a bit forward, isn¡¯t it?¡± I tried to laugh away my discomfort. She was suddenly acting very cold.


    ¡°Your right hand.¡±


    I turned over my right hand, and removed my glove, showing off the brand that had been burned into my palm.


    She silently observed it. Then, she scrambled to undo the belts around her gauntlet, and show me her own hand. Holding it next to mine, she compared the mark that had been burned into her skin, as well.


    ¡°They¡¯re the same?¡± I said.


    ¡°Where did you get this mark?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember, I was born a slave. They probably branded me when I was a baby.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t just appear one day?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    She turned to me with accusing eyes. ¡°Are you lying to me?¡±


    I pulled my hand back. ¡°What reason would I have to lie?¡±


    ¡°You¡­ don¡¯t know what it is, do you?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    She sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for another mark like this for years, hoping to find some answers, but you don¡¯t have any either, do you?¡±


    I had no idea what the girl was talking about. Was she crazy? Looks could only take a person so far. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have come to check on her.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a slave mark. Weren¡¯t you a slave? Isn¡¯t that where you got it?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve never been a slave. Did you see any other slaves with this mark?¡±


    I had never really bothered to investigate the marks of the other slaves. Most of the time, they were trying to kill me, so a marking on my hand had been the least of my concerns. Though, I was sure one or two of the others must have shared it.


    ¡°Where did you get it, then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It just appeared one day, along with my powers.¡±


    She was crazy, after all.


    ¡°What do you mean, special powers?¡± I asked, hesitantly.


    ¡°Like what you did earlier today, during the fight.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I could feel you during the fight. You were using the mark.¡±


    Her eyes lit up, and their usual sparkled had exploded into a shine. She was way too excited about something that didn¡¯t make any sense.


    ¡°Your power is just like mine. It lets you move faster than you ever could without it. Though, you still aren¡¯t as fast as me.¡±


    ¡°Is that right? Ha ha¡­¡± I chuckled uncomfortably.


    She nodded eagerly, ignoring my awkward laugh.


    ¡°I want to see it again, the way you fight!¡±


    Her smile was infectious, and I found myself smiling along with her, my apprehension slowly melting away.


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll get a chance tomorrow, during the next class.¡±


    I just remembered I still didn¡¯t know her name.


    ¡°By the way, I--¡±


    ¡°Mekaile, is that you? What are you doing out here, I¡¯ve been looking for you?¡±


    Jaekyll was jogging over to us.


    ¡°We need to talk.¡± He said sternly.


    As I followed him back towards the castle, I glanced over my shoulder at the girl, who was glaring at Jaekyll with venomous eyes. Her animosity sent a cold shiver slithering up my spine.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked nervously, on the way.


    ¡°I wanted to talk to you about what happened today.¡±


    ¡°I thought we already talked about it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you understood what I was trying to tell you. I was angry earlier, but do you know why?¡±


    ¡°I took the fight too far.¡±


    ¡°You did. You have amazing potential, Mekaile. You have raw talent for fighting. You could be a great fighter one day. But is that all you want to be? Do you just want to be someone who¡¯s good at killing others? That¡¯s nothing more than a soldier. When I look at you, I see so much more than that. I want to see you grow into a great person, not a great warrior.¡±


    I took in what Jaekyll was saying, but I still didn¡¯t understand it at the time. All I¡¯d ever known was fighting, and it was all I ever wanted to do. I did want to grow up to be a great warrior, so him telling me that such a dream was too shallow for me didn¡¯t make much sense at all.


    It infuriated me to hear him cut apart my dream, but only because he was right. It was really the only thing I knew, it wasn¡¯t really what I wanted. But, when I tried to think about what I wanted, I didn¡¯t know what that was. I had never had the opportunity to decide for myself what was important to me.


    So, like the child I was, I rejected the idea of pushing past what I knew.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, Jaekyll. Fighting is exactly what I want to do. I live for it, I breathe for it, I plan to die for it.¡±


    Jaekyll sighed, and shrugged his shoulders.


    ¡°I thought you might say something like that. I knew a boy who was just like you, when I was growing up. My best friend, Oliver, loved to fight. He used to pick fights with anybody and everybody. It became his reason for living, and he was only smiling when he was hitting someone. Eventually, people became afraid of his violent nature, and started avoiding him. As more and more of the people close to him abandoned him, he began to realize how much he had cherished them. In the end, he learned too late just how important having family and friends was to him. I don¡¯t want to see you end up the same way as Oliver did.¡±


    ¡°What happened to him?¡±


    ¡°He was killed by one of the people he had hurt.¡±


    I was silent the rest of the walk back to his office, thinking about what he had said.


    That wouldn¡¯t happen to me, I thought to myself. I¡¯ll be a hero, not a villain.


    I kept that to myself, though. I knew saying something like that to Jaekyll would only make the situation worse. I knew he was only saying all this because he cared about me, but I thought his worry was misdirected.


    He didn¡¯t need to worry about me.


    ¡°That girl you were with¡­ Mercedes, I think it was¡­ Is she your friend?¡±


    He asked.


    Mercedes?


    What a beautiful name.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. She¡¯s weird, but she¡¯s also a nice person, I think.¡±


    ¡°What about Booker, did you see him in the infirmary today?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s even weirder. He was actually happy that I¡¯d broken his arm.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad he¡¯s okay. It could have been a lot worse, don¡¯t you think? Anyways, my point is that these people are like you, in a lot of ways. I hope you¡¯ll come to think of them as friends, and then you¡¯ll really understand what I¡¯m trying to tell you. I don¡¯t want you to have to lose something, to realize how important it is. You¡¯re smarter than that.¡±


    During training the next day, Mercedes sat right next to me.


    ¡°Good morning, Red!¡± She said cheerfully.


    Red?


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure why everyone keeps trying to give me a nickname. Mekaile works just fine, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s so ordinary, though. What¡¯s your surname?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an orphan. I don¡¯t have a surname.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s another thing we have in common!¡±


    The uneven tapping of Jendryng¡¯s feet filled the courtyard as he made his way to the center again.


    ¡°Alright, since the last sparring match ended up hospitalizing someone, we aren¡¯t allowed to do that anymore. So, instead, we¡¯re going to go right into physical training. Everybody, pair up!¡±


    Some people were quick to find their partners, while others frantically looked between each other.


    Mercedes patted me on the back, a little too hard.


    ¡°Partner up with me, ok?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know why we had been pairing up, but I didn¡¯t really want to be partners with the girl who had lost in one hit.


    Before I could protest, she gave me a big smile, and I knew I had already lost.


    ¡°S-sure.¡± I mumbled, trying to avoid her eyes.


    ¡°Hey, by the way, why are your eyes red?¡±


    ¡°Why are your eyes brown?¡±


    ¡°Brown eyes are common here in the Sovereignty. Red eyes, however, aren¡¯t just rare. You¡¯re probably the only red-eyed boy in the world.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± I asked, getting irritated. I hated my eyes, but I hated talking about them even more. People had always called me a freak because of them. People hated me because of them.


    ¡°I just think they¡¯re really pretty.¡±


    What?


    Pretty?


    ¡°You think my eyes are¡­ pretty?¡±


    ¡°Beautiful is a better word, actually.¡±


    That decided it, for me. This girl was insane.


    Nobody had ever told me they found my eyes attractive, before.


    ¡°Now your face is red, too!¡± She said with a smug smirk.


    Jendryng cleared his throat with a grotesque wheeze.


    ¡°Good, you¡¯ve all paired up. Now, everyone is gathered here because they are already good at some kind of fighting. However, when you¡¯re in a life-or-death situation, more times than not, you¡¯re going to need to depend on someone. After all, a chain is only as strong as it¡¯s weakest link. If one of you fails, it puts someone else at risk. That¡¯s what it means to be a team.


    ¡°So, we¡¯re going to do rigorous physical training all day. You and your partner both need to remain standing and conscious. If your partner fails, so do you. The last team standing will be exempt from supplementary training.¡± He emphasized the last words, and let them hang in the air, like a miasma that slowly filled our lungs.


    ¡°W-what do you mean, s-s-supplementary?¡± One of the other students asked. He was a shorter boy, with sandy hair and a nervous twitch.


    Jendryng grinned a foul grin. ¡°If you want to find out, by all means, be the first to drop. If not, then simply win. Alright, recruits, line up here in the courtyard.¡±


    ¡°Show me what you¡¯ve got, Red. I know we can win this.¡± Mercedes boasted.


    It was grueling. It felt more like punishment, than training. If this was the regular training, I did not want to face the supplementary training.


    What amazed me more than that, though, was Mercedes. She pushed through the push-ups with ease, outran everyone during the running, and she looked like she could go at this pace all night. She was incredibly fit.


    Shame bit at my exhausted heels for having doubted Mercedes before. Now, I was the weak link.


    There were only two other pairs left, and we had just started an endurance test.


    We each held a log above our heads, and had to hold it steady while Jendryng spewed insults at us.


    Looking over at the others, hoping to see them struggling as much as I was, I noticed the sandy-haired boy with the stutter, sweat pouring across his eyes and his arms wiggling under the weight.


    His partner, a taller boy with thin eyes and a pointed nose, was scowling at him, barking something under his breath.


    Not long after that, the sandy-haired boy collapsed, and the log fell on top of him. His partner cursed, and stormed off to sit with the others who had also failed, leaving the boy to squirm under the massive beam of wood.


    ¡°Your partner has deserted you in your time of need. What are you going to do about it?¡± Jendryng howled.


    The boy started gasping, unable to push the log off of his chest.


    ¡°Come on, boy! Do or die! If you can¡¯t beat a log, how are you going to beat someone who¡¯s actively trying to end your life! Push, boy!¡±


    His face burned red as he pushed against the log with the last of his energy. When it failed, he started going limp.


    ¡°Help him, he¡¯s passed out!¡± A boy from the other remaining team called out.


    ¡°I can¡¯t help him. Only his partner could help him, and he abandoned him immediately. Don¡¯t you see? When you¡¯re in battle, there won¡¯t be a well-trained instructor to help you up when you fall. You can¡¯t count on others to help you.¡±


    I thought he had said the point of this lesson was to teach us teamwork, but it seemed like he was trying to teach us the opposite, that we shouldn¡¯t rely on others. That, of course, made more sense to me. Though, if I hadn¡¯t been paired with Mercedes, I would have already failed.


    Then, Jendryng¡¯s words came back to me.


    ¡°I really hope you don¡¯t hate me for this, Mercedes.¡± I muttered.


    I threw my log down, and ran over to the boy on the ground. I pulled the log off, and helped him sit up. Air rushed back into his chest.


    When he came to, he saw my eyes, and he went pale.


    ¡°G-get away from me, monster!¡± He screamed as he scrambled out of my arms and crawled away.


    You¡¯re welcome.


    I got back to my feet, and looked over at Mercedes haplessly, but she nodded and smiled. She had thrown her log down just after me.


    Jendryng slowly began clapping.


    ¡°I told you in the beginning that this was an exercise in teamwork. You¡¯re only as strong as your weakest link. If one of you falls, it is up to the rest of you to pick him back up. That way, if you fall, you know you have a team behind you who will be there to pick you up. Mekaile was the only one who recognized this, and gave up his chance at immunity from supplementary lessons to help his fallen man, even after his own partner abandoned him.¡±


    I expected to see Jendryng giving me one of his creepy smiles, but he had a sour frown on his face.


    ¡°This monster is a better man than the rest of you. Mekaile, take Reinholdt to the infirmary, make sure nothing important got crushed. you¡¯re both exempt from the supplementary lessons. The rest of you, go grab dinner at the mess hall, then return here. We¡¯ll be training until dawn.¡±


    Reinholdt must have been the sandy-haired boy, but when he heard Jendryng mention my name, I thought he might cry, the way fear swallowed his thin face.


    But he didn¡¯t cry. He was quiet all the way to the infirmary.


    ¡°Well now, the Red Devil returns with another victim?¡± Booker asked.


    ¡°This time I had nothing to do with it.¡± I said, returning his smile.


    ¡°Thank you, Mekaile. I couldn¡¯t say it before, but¡­ Thank you.¡± Reinholdt said, timidly eyeing the floor.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°W-what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t cut out for fighting. Why do you want to be a knight?¡±


    Reinholdt shivered as I spoke to him.


    Booker chuckled.


    ¡°There¡¯s more to being a knight than just fighting, you know.¡± Reinholdt said quietly.


    The doctor arrived and took over before I could reply, though I¡¯m not sure what I might have said to that.


    Instead, I pulled up a chair next to Booker.


    ¡°By the way, why are you here?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I want to be a knight.¡±


    ¡°With the way you fight, you seem more like an assassin than a knight.¡±


    ¡°I used to be a slave in the fighting pits to the east, before the war.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure why I had told him that. I hadn¡¯t felt any desire to talk about that yet, so why now? It seemed particularly easy to talk to Booker. Even easier than Jaekyll. It was as though Booker had no expectations about my character.


    ¡°That explains why you don¡¯t really have any style or technique. You weren¡¯t trained fight, you were just thrown into it, is that it?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer. I didn¡¯t really need to.


    ¡°What about you? You¡¯re pretty talented yourself. Where¡¯d you learn to fight?¡±


    ¡°My father trained me.¡±


    ¡°Is he a knight?¡±


    ¡°He was. He¡¯s dead, now.¡±


    Booker and I talked for awhile, until Reinholdt was cleared to return to training. I offered to walk him back to the dorm, but he was still too afraid of me.


    Instead, I wandered around the castle for a while, and found myself returning to the field just outside, where I had met Mercedes before.


    I half expected her to be training here, until I remembered that she was still in supplementary training with Jendryng at the courtyard.


    I took a seat on the hill and watched the sun as it set behind the mountains. As the last embers of light were snuffed out by the coming dark of night, I did my best not to think about anything.


    When you try to think about nothing, it seems almost impossible to avoid thinking about everything.


    It seemed people had expectations of me that I couldn¡¯t live up to.


    Some people, like Jaekyll, saw me as a great person, capable of great things. Most, though, were afraid of me, and feared I would want to hurt them.


    I didn¡¯t even know what I could expect of myself, so how were other people able to come to conclusions about who I was, when I hardly knew that myself?


    That night I looked up at the stars, wishing I had someone to look at them with me.

 5 Sanguine Son, Part 2

    Five months passed. Most of the students had failed. Others had quit. One was hospitalized.


    Booker had been back for a couple months, but he was already improving far beyond the other students. If it came down to a matter of placement, it was difficult to rank anyone. Everyone seemed so evenly matched, at this point.


    Except Reinholdt, of course. He hadn¡¯t improved much at all. Every day I wondered how he was able to endure where others that were much stronger than him failed.


    I suppose willpower is it¡¯s own strength, in a way, but surely it can only take you so far.


    ¡°Hey, Red.¡±


    Mercedes said as she took the seat across from me in the empty mess hall.


    ¡°How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that.¡±


    ¡°At least one more time, Red.¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me that!¡±


    ¡°Booker calls you that all the time, though.¡± Mercedes said with a pout.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told him to stop, too. I don¡¯t know why you both feel the need to give me a nickname.¡±


    In the middle of our meal, I felt it for the first time.


    ¡°I heard Jaekyll call you a nickname once, when he was talking to Jendryng.¡±


    Sitting in the mess hall of the castle we trained in, I felt a hand wrap around my heart.


    ¡°It was something really weird, but kind of catchy, too.¡±


    I clutched at my chest, but there was no beat.


    ¡°I think he called you the ¡®Sanguine Son¡¯, or something like that. Any idea what that means?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure when I started falling back, but I knew when I hit the floor.


    Mercedes was quick to react, scooping her arms under me and running me to the infirmary. She moved faster than I¡¯d ever seen her move.


    There wasn¡¯t any pain at all. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but it didn¡¯t hurt. It felt like something was pressing against all sides of my heart, and squeezing lightly.


    I couldn¡¯t breathe, and so I couldn¡¯t speak, to tell her I was okay. I wasn¡¯t actually sure that I was okay. Afterall, it wasn¡¯t ordinary to feel a hand inside your chest, was it?


    More importantly, why was I so sure it was a hand? It was just a pressure inside my chest, it could be any number of things.


    No, it was a hand. Slender fingers were folding over it, holding it with such gentle care.


    Do you see me?


    ¡°Somebody, help! Please, help!¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, he suddenly grabbed his chest and collapsed!¡±


    ¡°Put him on the bed, there. Go boil some water for me.¡±


    The doctor placed a hand on my chest, and held my wrist lightly in the other.


    He went pale, dropped my hand, stumbled back, and ran out the door.


    Do you see me, trapped in my cage?


    Mercedes eventually returned with a steaming bucket, and was dumbfounded to find the doctor missing.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay, Mekaile.¡±


    At least she¡¯d stopped calling me by that terrible nickname. It only took me on my death bed for her to give that up.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be. Is he conscious?¡±


    A deep voice in the hallway spoke.


    Halton, the knight-commander, entered the room.


    It was the first time I¡¯d seen him in person. He was much older than I expected. He had probably been handsome, in his youth, but now his face was cracked and wrinkled, his hair receding and gray.


    The squeezing in my chest tightened.


    Tighter, until it finally began to hurt.


    Pain unlike anything I¡¯d ever felt before.


    Like I was being set on fire from the inside.


    Black.


    Everything went black.


    When I woke up, everything was the same, but also entirely different.


    I was in the infirmary, lying on a bed, but I had to throw a sheet off to see all of that.


    The room was dark, but it wasn¡¯t just a lack of light. There was an unnatural presence of darkness.


    Still, under this uncomfortable blanket of gloom, I could see the parts of the room closest to me. I stepped off the bed and followed the wall, until I made it to the door.


    Or, at least, where the door should have been. It had been torn off it¡¯s hinges, with a crack in the doorframe.


    In the hall, scratches covered the walls, and bones littered the floor.


    Careful not to step on them, I navigated around them until I made it outside, in the courtyard.


    There was nothing.


    No sun or moon or stars above.


    No people around.


    No sounds, just deafening silence.


    Silence, and a terrible chill.


    Do you see me, trapped in my cage?


    I see you, trapped in yours.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± I called out to the emptiness.


    The void gave no response.


    I couldn¡¯t see more than my outstretched hand, and then I noticed it.


    The mark on my hand was gone.


    Free me, and I shall free you. I have already given you the key.


    There was a rustling behind me, and I turned just in time to see it.


    A black shape crawling just on the outskirts of my vision.


    It drew closer, revealing a massive jaw of teeth, dripping with blood. It snarled, and lunged, and was on me in an instant. It snapped its jaw around me, and--


    When I came to, I was back in the infirmary, with Mercedes holding a steaming bucket, and Halton standing in the doorway.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    Halton strode over to the bed and placed his hand against my chest.


    ¡°This is a strong, healthy beat if ever I¡¯ve felt one. That doctor is useless.¡±


    Mercedes looked at Halton, then back to me.


    ¡°I just felt a little dizzy for a moment, but I¡¯m feeling better now.¡± I said to Halton.


    ¡°Fine, fine. Be sure you¡¯re drinking plenty of water. If Jendryng pushes you too hard, be sure to let me know.¡±


    With that, the knight-commander left as swiftly as he had entered.


    Mercedes stood, still holding the bucket, with a look of shock.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± She asked.


    I looked at my hand, to make sure the mark was still there.


    ¡°Alright, Mercedes.¡± I said, taking a deep breath. ¡°Tell me everything about this mark.¡±


    I had only half-listened to her attempts at an explanation before, wholly believing the girl to be somewhat crazy.


    This time, I listened intently, never taking my eyes off of her.


    ¡°So, there are other people with these marks, and they all have unique powers. Is that all you know?¡±


    ¡°...I don¡¯t really know what else to tell you. I don¡¯t really know that much myself.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever had any¡­ visions?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. Why are you suddenly so interested? What happened?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to explain it, really. It felt like a warning. Or, a threat. I don¡¯t know. Whatever it was, it had something to do with this mark, I just know it.¡±


    ¡°Have you told anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No, just you.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Mercedes said, her cheeks burning red.


    Booker poked his head into the room.


    ¡°Hey, uh, Red. I heard you died.¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me that.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t die. We haven¡¯t had a rematch, yet. Oh, that reminds me. During class today, Jendryng announced that we¡¯re going to be sparring against each other again, like we did when we first met.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll all get a chance to redeem ourselves, it seems.¡± Mercedes said with a sidelong glare at Booker.


    ¡°I, uh, should probably go. Sorry, for, uh, you know. Interrupting.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t given it much thought before, but there was another student among us. He didn¡¯t stand out match, like Booker and Mercedes did, but he didn¡¯t seem incompetent, like Reinholdt. I couldn¡¯t even remember his name.


    As the five of us were preparing for our mission, he caught my attention for the first time.


    His rust-colored hair, which was usually unkempt and fell over his eyes, was pulled back in a tight tail, revealing the burns around his face.


    I was surprised by the extended hand.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve officially met.¡±


    When I finally took his hand, he squeezed so tightly I was afraid he was going to break my hand.


    ¡°I¡­suppose we haven¡¯t, really. I¡¯m Mekaile.¡±


    ¡°Do you mind if I call you Red, like your friends do?¡±


    Not another one.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    I had given up trying to put out that nickname, since it seemed to spread like a wildfire. Everyone outside of our class had started calling me that now too.


    ¡°Then, call me Birro. That¡¯s what my friends call me.¡±


    ¡°Birro it is, then.¡±


    Why was he introducing himself now? I suppose he wanted to get to know the team he was going to be working with. It made sense, if I let it.


    ¡°Mekaile, are you in here?¡± Jaekyll called out.


    ¡°I¡¯m here!¡±


    ¡°There you are. I need to speak to you before you leave.¡±


    In the center of Jaekyll¡¯s office, there was a mannequin, with a full set of steel armor, painted black. He held the helmet out to me.


    It had horns built into it, sweeping back, just like my hair. The eyes had streaks of red painted across them.


    ¡°I¡¯d heard your friends have started calling you the ¡®Red Devil¡¯, though I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t come up with such a name. Nonetheless, I¡¯ve seen you come to embrace it. It suits you, after all. I think it¡¯s good. Earn it right beside a good reputation, and people will come to respect the parts of you that are red. Hopefully this armor protects you while you make a name for yourself.¡±


    It was the first time I¡¯d ever received a gift of any kind. It was the first time someone had decided to give me something I wanted. The first time I had ever felt like I had earned it.


    ¡°Leaving on your first mission is important. It¡¯s your start as a knight of the sovereignty. That¡¯s why we hold a ceremony for your graduation just before you depart.¡±


    It was the first time I had cried while I was happy, and I didn¡¯t understand why.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, Mekaile.¡±


    I took the helmet from him. It was incredibly well made, and must have been very expensive to have commissioned with such a specific and ornate design.


    ¡°Thank you, Jaekyll.¡± I said. ¡°Thank you. I--¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what else to say.


    He helped me put it on, and he walked out with me to join my companions at the castle gate.


    ¡°It looks really good on you, Red.¡± Mercedes said.


    Booker snickered. ¡°You¡¯re making the rest of us look bad.¡±


    As Reinholdt and Birro said their goodbyes to their families, Booker, Mercedes, and I bid our farewells to Jaekyll and Jendryng. Even Halton, the ever-busy knight-commander, came to see us off.


    And then we were off.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    We were headed to a village south of Helcaste to find and remove a bandit gang in the area that was plaguing the locals. It would take us a couple days to get there. Half a day on the main road, then a day and a half to get to the village itself.


    ¡°Spingwater, eh? I¡¯ve never heard of it. Had no idea it was so close.¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°It¡¯s small, even for a village. That¡¯s probably why these fools think they can get away with terrorizing it so close to a sovereign city.¡±


    We were excited and fearless. It was five well-trained young knights against a few backwoods bandits. We thought we were all going to make it back from such an easy task.


    I have such a vivid image of the five of us, in the back of that cart, smiling as we talked about it. When I look back, I think it¡¯s one of my fondest memories. It seems odd, picking such a small memory out of them all to call one of my happiest, but it really was one of the best days of my life. Not only did I have friends, but I had companions. That¡¯s something I won¡¯t ever be able to get back. It was a moment of youth, not intended to be resurrected. It¡¯s painful enough just to remember it.


    The rotting, wooden sign was dangling from one rusted hinge, hanging limply from the overhang that we went under as we entered the village. Vines had grown up around the few, scattered houses, reclaiming this area for nature. It looked abandoned.


    ¡°Does anybody actually live here?¡± Reinholdt asked.


    ¡°I guess we ought to find out.¡±


    Birro went up to the nearest house and knocked on the door.


    With one tap, it creaked open, but stopped against something inside. He pushed, and eventually the door gave out, pulled right out of the doorframe. Birro immediately dropped the door and came rushing out.


    ¡°It smells horrid in there.¡± He groaned.


    ¡°Something about all this doesn¡¯t feel right. Everyone, stay alert. Mercedes, Birro, and Reinholdt, check the other houses, see if anybody is still here. Red, with me. We¡¯re going inside.¡± Booker took the lead so quickly and confidently, that none of us bothered to decline his ascent. We all did as we were told.


    Reinholdt reluctantly handed Booker the lantern he had brought along, and we parted ways.


    The dim light of the brass lantern was enough to illuminate the crimson blood that had stained the wood around the bodies. One was just in front of the door, while the other was near the broken window in the back. They had been crushed, their bodies crumpled and their faces caved in.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t exactly recent. The bodies have already started breaking down.¡± He said. ¡°Why were we sent to a graveyard?¡±


    ¡°I thought we were dealing with some bandits harassing a village. This is something else entirely.¡±


    Booker stood and went over to check out the rest of the house. ¡°Well, if it becomes too much for us, we can certainly call for help. However, I¡¯d like to find out as much as we can before that, and solve this ourselves if possible.¡± He turned back and flashed a smile, but the shadows dancing across his face made his expression more frightening than inspiring. ¡°For now, let¡¯s go meet up with the others. Maybe they found something.¡±


    They found more bodies, and nothing else. Booker had described this place as a graveyard, and that was becoming a chillingly accurate description.


    Beyond that, though, I felt a constant tension in the air. There was a change in pressure every now and then, slowly rising and falling, and it was putting me on edge for reasons I could not understand.


    ¡°W-what now?¡± Reinholdt asked. ¡°Maybe w-we should head b-b-back.¡±


    Booker shook his head. ¡°If it really was bandits that killed these people, then we still have a duty to find and stop them. That¡¯s why we came here, after all.¡±


    ¡°I thought we came to help the villagers.¡± Mercedes put in.


    ¡°Well, nobody can help them now. We should at least make sure that this doesn¡¯t happen again to another village, if we can.¡±


    Mercedes crossed her arms and huffed, but she debated the issue no further.


    Booker nodded, taking in everyone¡¯s agreement to continue. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll probably have to spend the night here. Was there an inn, or something like it?¡±


    ¡°There was a tavern near the entrance. I¡¯m sure they have empty rooms there.¡±


    ¡°Alright, why don¡¯t you all bring your stuff there and unpack the carriage. Red and I are going to look around a bit and try to find some clue as to where the attackers went.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I go with you?¡± Mercedes said.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s, uh, alright. We¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Mercedes pouted again, but I didn¡¯t have a chance to apologize. Booker rushed me along with him.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about? Mercedes just wants to help, you know.¡±


    ¡°I needed to talk to you. Alone.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to confess, are you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re really not my type.¡±


    ¡°Then, what is it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust her.¡±


    ¡°Mercedes?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I think she¡¯s hiding something.¡±


    Well, he wasn¡¯t wrong. But I couldn¡¯t tell him that. How was I supposed to explain to him now what she had explained to me? I hadn¡¯t believed it until I had that vision, and even then I hardly believed it. Even after Mercedes had shown me the mark¡¯s effect in action. When even seeing was enough to believe, how could words stand a chance at convincing someone?


    ¡°What do you think? You¡¯ve spent the most time with her.¡± He asked.


    ¡°I have?¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t spend time with the rest of us, the way she does with you. When you aren¡¯t around, she doesn¡¯t really talk to anyone.¡±


    ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t noticed anything suspicious about her. What makes you think she¡¯s hiding something?¡±


    Booker paused, then spoke softly. ¡°It¡¯s just a feeling I get, I guess. When she¡¯s fighting.¡±


    He could feel the mark, like Mercedes could? Does that mean he had a mark, too? Then, why didn¡¯t Mercedes ever sense him?


    ¡°Booker, I have something to tell--¡±


    Before I could finish, a wild scream cut through the air. It came from the tavern.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I called out as we dashed up the stairs. ¡°Is everyone okay?¡±


    Reinholdt was in the hall, holding his knees to his chest. Booker and I drew our swords, and we swung around the corner to enter the opened bedroom.


    Mercedes and Birro stood dumbfounded as they stood in the room, looking all around. They were pale white against a backdrop of red.


    The cribs were mostly empty.


    Booker cursed and left the room in a hurry.


    ¡°What kind of fucking monster¡­¡± Birro muttered.


    Mercedes silently hung her head and walked out, leaving to sit next to Reinholdt.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t murder. It was a slaughter.¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re dealing with simple bandits, here.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re up against humans, Red.¡±


    There was something wrong with Birro¡¯s reaction. It was like he was saying what he expected I wanted to hear, but he didn¡¯t mean what he said. He was just regurgitating some words he thought fit at the moment.


    He wasn¡¯t bothered by the scene.


    ¡°Hey, Birro, can I ask you something?¡±


    ¡°It depends on the question.¡±


    ¡°Could you do something like this, if you were ordered to?¡±


    ¡°No. Everybody¡¯s got a limit to how cruel they can be to another person. This is well beyond mine.¡±


    It was in his eyes. No matter how much he scrunched his nose, or how deep his frown, his eyes couldn¡¯t lie.


    He was lying.


    ¡°Hey, can you guys come here?¡± Mercedes called out.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Reinholdt passed out.¡±


    We had to carry the boy back to the carriage, where we decided to stay for the night. It was the only shelter without a body in it.


    ¡°What are we going to do now?¡± Birro asked when Booker returned to the light of the campfire.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Well, what do you think we should do?¡±


    ¡°I really don¡¯t know. We¡¯ll look around more tomorrow, I guess. If we don¡¯t find any leads, we¡¯ll send a letter back, letting them know what we found here.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t sleep that night, but it wasn¡¯t because of what had happened. I¡¯d seen savagery like that before. What had kept me up was the enigma that was Birro.


    His strange reaction, and the uneasiness that I got from his answer. Why did he lie about something like that? What was he hiding?


    Booker was wrong to cast his doubts upon Mercedes. It was Birro who had captured all of my distrust.


    I sat next to the window, but I was watching the others in the cabin. Mostly, I was watching Reinholdt, who hadn¡¯t woken up yet.


    He was just as weak as I had always thought him to be, and now he was hindering us. How did he graduate? Why did he want to be a knight? He obviously wasn¡¯t cut out for this kind of work.


    Though, I suppose this particular case was an exception of mass cruelty, it doesn¡¯t change the fact that Reinholdt was an incredibly weak person, in both body and mind.


    Reinholdt, the weak. Birro, the liar. Mercedes, the insane. Booker, the distrustful.


    And then there was me, who was no exception to the madness. The boy with red eyes.


    Mekaile, the freak.


    Mekaile, the Red Devil.


    I¡¯m not sure when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, the sun was just beginning to rise over the tallest mountain, and a faint light was filtering into the cabin through the window.


    Mercedes held a hand over my mouth, and a finger against her lips. When I nodded, she motioned for me to follow, and we slipped out of the cabin. We crept into the town, and when I was just about to ask what this was all about, I heard the voices.


    They were coming from the tavern.


    Mercedes held me back from entering. ¡°It¡¯s here.¡± She whispered.


    ¡°What¡¯s here?¡±


    ¡°A mark.¡±


    Now I absolutely had to go in. What if they knew something that we didn¡¯t? They had to!


    ¡°Is that why we left the others behind?¡±


    ¡°The only other person in the cabin was Booker. I think the others are in here.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even noticed that Reinholdt and Birro were missing.


    ¡°Alright, then what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, that¡¯s why I woke you up. I don¡¯t know what to do. We have no idea what kind of mark this person has, or who they are. It could be one of the bandits.¡±


    ¡°Well, we won¡¯t know until we get in there. It sounds like they¡¯re on the main floor. Maybe we can go in through one of the windows on the second floor?¡±


    Mercedes looked down, took a deep breath, and looked back at me with a nod. We shuffled around the edge of the building, and I boosted Mercedes up to the window of one of the rooms on the second story. Once she was in, she held her hand out, and I kicked off the wall and caught it in my own. She pulled me up, and into the room with her.


    ¡°...Isn¡¯t personal, it really isn¡¯t.¡±


    The voice, while still muffled, was coherent. It sounded like Birro.


    We crawled over towards the balcony that looked over the main bar area, where we could see Reinholdt, shaking with a sword in his hand, the tip pointed towards Birro, who was grinning wickedly.


    ¡°Go get Booker, as quickly as you can, and come in through the front door. If this goes too far, I¡¯ll intervene.¡± I whispered to Mercedes. She nodded, and silently slipped back into the room we came in through.


    ¡°W-w-why are you d-d-doing this?¡± Reinholdt asked.


    ¡°Why? Because I want war.¡±


    ¡°You want...war?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t. Someone as innocent as you could never understand. But, you see, I love war. It¡¯s the only time when killing becomes worthy of national praise. I can get paid, by the empire itself, to go and do exactly what I love doing, what I would be doing anyways. Assassins will always be betrayed, eventually. But a war hero can kill as much as he likes, and he only grows more loved by his country for it. There¡¯s nothing in this world that I love more than war. This peace has lasted too long, and I¡¯ve grown quite bored. I haven¡¯t had the chance to use my brand in a long time. You¡¯ll forgive me, I hope, if I¡¯m not able to restrain myself.¡±


    He put himself into a stance, and Reinholdt began to breathe heavier, still shaking. He looked so frail going up against him. When Birro attacked, however, striking his fist out, Reinholdt expertly dodged to the side and swung with an uppercut, aiming to slice off Birro¡¯s arm.


    This had already gone too far. I knew I should be getting between them, trying to stop this.


    But I didn¡¯t.


    I wouldn¡¯t say I was afraid, but I certainly wasn¡¯t going to get myself involved with another mark without knowing anything about it.


    Mercedes had mentioned she could move faster when she used her mark, but that her ability was unique to her, as far as she knew. So, before I revealed myself, I decided to watch, and see if I could figure out what Birro could do. If I needed to fight him, I didn¡¯t want to do it blindly.


    ¡°Woah! That was quite close, Reinholdt!¡± Birro said.


    The sword had cleaved into Birro¡¯s arm. Or, so it had seemed. In reality, the sword had no breached skin.


    Reinholdt¡¯s shoulders drooped. ¡°W-w-what are you?!¡± He cried out as he took a step back, letting the tip of his blade touch the wooden floor.


    ¡°I am the inheritance of god.¡± Birro said. He brought his fist back, and for the first time, I saw it. The glow coming from his palm was radiant enough to slip out through cracks in his fist.


    He thrust his arm forward, cutting Reinholdt¡¯s sword arm clean from his body.


    ¡®Cutting¡¯ may not be the right word. Where Birro struck, the flesh seemed to explode upon impact, as if an incredible force had come into contact with it. At first, I assumed he had simply moved his arm inhumanly quick, as Mercedes could do, but that didn¡¯t explain how he had resisted the sharp edge of a steel blade.


    Reinholdt screamed, and grabbed his bleeding stump with his other hand. Birro began to chuckle as he wrapped his hand around Reinholdt¡¯s face. By raising his arm, he picked Reinholdt up by his head, lifting him until his feet dangled about the bloody ground.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to be more gentle this time.¡± He said, as he dug his fingers into Reinholdt¡¯s eyes. Instead of crying out, he started wheezing, and his body began convulsing.


    Gentle. That was it. Birro¡¯s mark must give him strength. He had to make a conscious effort to hold himself back while he was using it. That strength must also affect his body, allowing him to ignore being hit with a sword. So, if a sword wouldn¡¯t work, how was I supposed to fight him? If I didn¡¯t move, Reinholdt was dead. Actually, he was probably dead already. His body had gone limp.


    The door flew open, and Mercedes came charging in with her sword drawn.


    That idiot.


    She was going to get herself killed, too.


    She crossed the distance across the tavern in a fraction of a second, and thrust the tip of her blade into Birro. He was pushed back, and was forced to throw Reinholdt down.


    That was it! Birro may have been incredibly strong, but he wasn¡¯t fast! He was no match for Mercedes, and that strength wouldn¡¯t help him if he couldn¡¯t land a hit.


    Birro held his chest where he had been struck, and it was obvious the wind had been knocked out of him, as he put a hand on the nearest chair and struggled to breathe in.


    An edge didn¡¯t work, but it seemed a blunt weapon, if struck with enough force, still injured him internally. That meant it was only his skin that was strengthened.


    Mercedes charged in again, this time with a swing.


    Her arm seemed to disappear and reappear as she finished the strike, and when she stopped moving, her blade was broken in half.


    The tip came to the ground behind him with a dull thud.


    Birro laughed as he kicked off his planted foot, tackling Mercedes and bringing her to the ground. He brought back his fist.


    I got up on the railing, and was about to jump on him. I had to save her.


    Everything stopped.


    Time, stopped.


    My body went cold and numb almost immediately.


    Do you see me, trapped in my cage?


    Let me out.


    A subtle warmth filled my fist, and slowly began to seep into my arm, spreading up my body. When it reached my heart, there was a burst of pain, and everything quickly came back into motion.


    I came down on Birro, bringing my fist down into the back of his head. His body twisted, and his punch missed Mercedes, finding its way into the floor, breaking through the wooden floorboards.


    Mercedes quickly squirmed away, and scrambled to wipe the blood from her face.


    Birro¡¯s head had exploded under the weight of my blow.


    No, that wasn¡¯t something the added weight from my fall should have done. My fist was completely fine, yet it had demolished this man¡¯s head, skull and all, reducing it to a splattering of blood and brain that had covered the girl beneath him.


    No, that punch wasn¡¯t ordinary. It was¡­


    Just like the punch Birro had used on Reinholdt.


    Suddenly, my attention snapped back to reality, and I found Reinhold sitting against the wall. He was unconscious, but he was breathing.


    ¡°Mercedes, help me get Reinholdt back to the carriage!¡±


    She wasn¡¯t moving. She was staring dumbly at Birro¡¯s body.


    ¡°Mercedes!¡±


    ¡°I...almost died¡­I was...about to die¡­¡± She mumbled.


    Realizing she wasn¡¯t going to be any help anytime soon, and painfully aware of how little time we had, I lifted Reinholdt over my shoulders.


    I expected him to be heavy. Even though he was smaller than average, he still ought to have weighed more than he did.


    He was light enough for me to pick up with one hand.


    I carried him over to the carriage as quickly as I could, and woke Booker up.


    ¡°Booker, I need your help! Reinholdt¡¯s hurt, bad!¡±


    Booker rubbed the groggy haze out of his eyes as he came to grasp the situation.


    ¡°Where are the others? What happened?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything later. For now, we¡¯re safe, but Reinholdt will die without help. Please, help me bind these wounds.¡±


    ¡°Bind these¡­ His arm is gone! He¡¯s lost too much blood. He¡¯s already gone, Red.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that, he¡¯s still alive!¡±


    ¡°Mekaile, he-¡±


    ¡°Just bind his fucking wounds!¡± I spat out.


    Booker¡¯s ever expressionless face was impossible to read, but his silence was deafening.


    I decided to go back for Mercedes, to make sure she was okay, too.


    She was sitting in the same spot, with her knees tucked into her body, shivering.


    She looked so fragile, and I felt an overwhelming desire to protect her. So, I tried to fix what I saw that I could fix. I took off my coat and wrapped it around her. She flinched when I touched her, but when her eyes met with mine, she came out of her stupor.


    ¡°You saved me.¡± She said. ¡°You saved my life. Nobody has ever...saved me before. You¡¯re my hero.¡±


    She thought of me as her hero.


    It may not have started there, but that was the first time Mercedes had given me that longing stare that I would come to be very familiar with. That I would come to appreciate, and that I would come to despise.


    It was the moment that a tumorous love began to grow inside her, that would only grow more cancerous by the day, eventually becoming an unbearable sickness that brought her over the edge of a bridge.


    But, that¡¯s another story.


    This was the story of how Mercedes and I had met.


    ***


    ¡°So, what do you think?¡±


    It had only taken the better part of a day to tell the whole story. I had meant to shy away from the crueler details of it, but as my mind wandered into memory, it all dragged itself out through me. I ended up telling Alys everything, leaving nothing out.


    How foolish of me. She was only a child, after all. I had no place to be telling this.


    I hadn¡¯t realized how off-topic I had gotten. She had simply listened in patient silence to it all.


    ¡°Mama never used to tell me stories like that.¡± She said quietly. ¡°Will you tell me another story?¡±


    She wanted another story. After that, she wanted to hear more.


    ¡°Your mother and I had a few adventures, after that. We spent the next few years traveling together, and I suppose a lot happened. Is there anything particular you want to hear about?¡±


    She rubbed her cheek as she thought.


    There was a moment where I was sitting beside my daughter, while she was thinking about the story I had just told her, where I realized I was a father. I had brought life into this world. A real person, with her own personality. Such a concept had never crossed my mind before. I had never entertained the idea of having a kid before, yet here she was.


    I had never been happier.


    ¡°Papa!¡± She said, finally. ¡°Mama once told me the story about the Pale Princess. Can you tell me that story, too? It¡¯s one of my favorites. I want to hear you tell it like you told the other story, though.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that must be Ellyn. But, what do you mean, ¡®Like the other story?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Mama never talked about people dying, or getting hurt, like you do.¡±


    ¡°You want to hear about death?¡±


    ¡°I want to hear the real story. It feels more real when you tell stories.¡±


    ¡°More real, eh?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it was the right thing to do, but maybe it was the thing she wanted, and that was enough for me. So, I decided to tell her everything. Exactly how it happened. Nothing held back.


    Every miserable story of my life, with the story of the Pale Princess coming up next.