Chapter 8: 8. The Invitation

- DILLON -

When I wake after what seems like an eternity of slumber, Luxus gives me a long hug. He tells me I have slept for over fourteen days and believed I would never wake again.

In those two weeks, I did not have a single dream.

"We're at an inn outside of Orris. Took us over two weeks just to get here." Lux sighs sitting beside my cot.

The room itself is cramped and shabby with low ceilings and one small wooden window. The temperature here is warm but pleasant, unlike the vicious heat of the far south. The room smells like damp wood and cigarette smoke. I wonder if Captain Rifco has come to visit.

I stare at Lux as he fills a bowl of water for me. He has dark purple bags under his eyes, making his face look hollow and fatigued.

"Y-you've…" My voice cracks and I wheeze. Lux hands me the bowl. I take it from him and drink deeply. It feels like I have not drank in years.

"You've been taking care of me?" I finally say and hand the empty bowl back. He blushes slightly, feeling awkward.

"We all have. Taking turns." Lux shrugs. "You're the hero, Dillon." He mumbles and looks away.

The bed creaks unpleasantly when I rise to a sitting position, my back propped against the wooden headboard. I stare at Lux's downcast eyes. I know the reason he is sulking.

Has it really been two weeks? The pain in my jaw is almost gone, only a dull numb ache remains. With the injuries I sustained, it's hard to believe that two weeks is all it takes to heal.

"Tell me what happened." I clear my throat. I am still not used to speaking.

"Captain told me to scout the area with a few other men, and we split up. But we saw nothing. Just trees and plants." He sighs. "We must've walked around for an hour, tried to track our steps back to the lake, but we couldn't." His jaw clenches and he looks down.

"Then all of the sudden we turn around and there we were in front of the shrine and the lake with the rest of the other scouting parties." His brows furrow like he is trying to remember and make sense of it in his head.

It must be the Magic. Just like the arrow trick Ghükar used to destroy our ranks. I think of the vines that grew from the Earth, I watched my guildmates hack at it, only for their blades to pass through it like smoke. It must be an illusion.

But how can that be, when the arrows he brought down on us killed so many of our men?

I mull the events over in my mind. How is it possible that a human is able to conjure Magic? My entire life, I grew up with stories of people who are able to conjure power from Angels— the Arcana. But, they are just stories.

"Then we heard a noise from the hut and there you were passed out beside Ghükar's fucking head covered in blood and vomit. We saw Jacob and the others floating in the lake. What happened?" He asks.

I stare at him. I consider telling him everything, but I cannot bring myself to. Instead, I say, "He killed them, I couldn't do anything. I failed them."

The terror of that day comes back to me, making me shudder without warning. I had been pathetic and weak in front of Ghükar, practically begging him to kill me. Five men died because of me. Five.

I do not even know their names. I hear the sound of their bones being crushed, their screams. The way they called my name, hoping I would come to help them. They were wrong to trust me. I repeat the number again and again in my head. I memorise their faces.

Luxus sits with his head bowed, staring at the floor. He says nothing. We have lived with bloodshed for so long that there are no words to ease the pain.

"When I saw you lying there… I thought you were dead."

"I thought so too." Luxus doesn't reply for a long time. Unsure of what to say, I sit in silence and close my eyes.

"How did you kill him?" He asks softly.

"Luck." I don't mention the Magic or the gemstone.

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***

A raven comes bearing a message from the palace two days later. Captain Rifco has been anticipating an invitation to the royal ball and has not stopped fidgeting. He takes out his nervousness on the new recruits, making them run errands and train for all hours of the day. I don't envy them.

Luxus and I sit and watch them practise their sword fighting with dummies filled with hay. It reminds us of a simpler time. Despite Lux's envy, the boy doesn't leave my side and teases me relentlessly about my unavoidable marriage. It is not something I am looking forward to. I do not wish to be caught up in politics nor do I wish to spend the rest of my days with a woman I do not know.

The men here disagree. They see opulence, a title and a beautiful bride and believe that this is the best the world offers. Unexpectedly, I think of my old village. Small and peaceful, and uncorrupted. I reminisce and relive the feeling of freedom. How naive I was to believe that peace exists.

Sensing my souring mood, Lux nudges me with his wooden practice sword and smiles, "Spar with me. Old times sake."

I take him up on his offer and he takes his stance. It is noon and the sun is high in the sky, covered partly by darkening clouds. Despite the humidity, I do not sweat.

Luxus watches my stance, trying to replicate it. But, his legs are long and he is standing too far apart, his stance uneven. I see an opening but I do not take it just yet. Luxus goes for the first strike, his arm flies forward in a jabbing motion. I parry his strike with the side of my wooden sword and step forward, pushing him back. He staggers from his uneven footing.

Luxus' face scrunches as he realises his mistake. I hold my ground, waiting patiently. He then pulls back his sword and spins, redoubling his onslaught. I sidestep and continue to back away, allowing him to overextend. His long, lean arm flies low as he aims to strike at my hip, but before he lands his move, I jump back.

Luxus slices the air with a powerful swing and the momentum causes him to lose balance momentarily, but I do not give him time to recover. I twirl my blade toward his neck. It connects lightly, then I pull his ankle with my foot and he falls unceremoniously. He laughs.

"I thought I got better!" He shakes his head and sighs.

"You did," He reaches for my hand and I pull him up, clasping him in the back. "But, you're still pretty shit." I grin.

We spar for hours alongside the recruits. Some have decided to sit and watch as I teach Luxus the importance of balance and form. Luxus listens, but his body does not. He is more suited with a bow and arrow and scouting. The boy has a sharp attention to detail, even if he is a little clumsy.

After the session is over, Luxus takes the recruits down to a small lake to clean up. I don't go with them.

"So you just chopped off his head? Just like that?" A voice startles me from behind. It's one of the young recruits. He looks barely older than thirteen. He stares at me with big brown eyes and curly blonde hair as I strip off my tunic at the well.

"No, it took me a few swings," I say. My body is covered in sweat and dirt. I scoop a bucket of water from the well and douse it over my head. The chilled water is a welcome feeling against my burning skin.

"What was he like?" He asks, leaning against the well.

"Knock it off, lad." Captain Rifco strides over to us, cutting the conversation short. The boy ducks his head and awkwardly shuffles away.

"You're famous now," He takes a long draw of his cigarette and offers me one. I shake my head, wiping my eyes and face with a cloth. "In Illya, you're a hero. But, in Khronir…" He shrugs.

I ignore his petty jibes and step past him.

"Azshker," He grabs my arm and pulls me back. I glare down at him. "You did good. The guild thanks you for your service but this is your time to finally live! Any man would kill to be in your position." He says these words awkwardly. He is not a man made for affection or kind words. His face is pale and ghastly, sweat glistens on his scarred bald head.

"You're out here rushing into battle like you want to be in the dirt, spending gold like it's your last night on this fucking Earth. Don't you want more in life?" There's a stillness in the air as I examine him. I believe his tenderness to be true, that he believes he is some sort of father figure to me.

But, I don't have the strength for affection, I lost that capability a long time ago.

He waits for my answer, but it doesn't come. I do not tell him what I think; that I believe him a soft-hearted fool, that no matter how much gold he saves or battles he wins, he will never amount to anything. Because those in power will never let men like us sit at the same table and drink the same wine. Life has no more left to give. Not for the likes of us.

I wrench his hand from my arm and walk away.

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