A squadron of fifteen knights slowly circled me with raised weapons. Each step slow, patient until positioned.
"Don't move…" the center knight commanded – the orange-teal insignia of her rank fluttering over her left shoulder.
My eyes trailed knight to knight. Their own gazes carried a mix of bolstered bravado, unrestrained inquiry, and solemn fear at witnessing shadowmancy firsthand.
I pulled two misericordes from their sheathes on my hips, noting that fear was growing. A coffin of ice locked around my body one moment later.
"I doubt you'll be going anywhere, friend."
A mage clad in a crimson dress and armor strode forward beside a towering knight bearing a flail and shield – with a roguish fellow trailing behind.
Though surprised at the lengths Ironclad would go to capture me, I found it lacking. Lackluster without creativity.
Their mistake was simple. None seemed to understand how shadowmancy truly worked.
My body became swallowed in darkness. One with the world of shadows.
So I rose from the elongated darkness cast by the descending sun.
Two knights rushed immediately. They were the first to fall. Bodies slumped on top of each other – breathing shallowly.
Not the last to fall.
Steel clattered to the ground one body at a time until only the commander and the trio remained. Blood dripped from my blades.
Sad that I can't kill them, but they now know that I'm someone not to be crossed.
I readied for battle once more.
Veronica suddenly stepped between us. "Lower your weapons."
Her command carried across the gates like a sharp blade.
The commanding knight drove her longsword into the earth and knelt. The others followed without restrictions.
"Lady Crom. Welcome home."
Veronica gave me a brief side glance, warning me, before walking to the knelling knight and resting a hand on their shoulder.
"It's good to see you're still well, Freya."
Freya? I doubt it is but…
I lost interest in their exchange and studied the wounded knights rising slowly around us. Healers worked frantically.
Nyx's voice brushed against my mind.
"Jakul… that was a little excessive. What if the king decides to take revenge for such actions?"
I smiled faintly. Scaring some nearby merchants.
"I highly doubt he'll do anything. Besides, I didn't kill anyone. We can still have our date later."
Though I couldn't see her, I knew she was shaking her head.
"You're unbelievable."
Our connection faded just as Veronica and the trio stood before me.
Frey removed her helm and held it under her right arm.
Lightly tanned skin, sapphire-bright eyes, and hair like flowing lava fell around her shoulders. Her build was comparable to that of Nyxis or Veronica. A thin scar ran the length of her lip.
She silently looked me over carefully. "Anyway… is he a guest of yours?"
Veronica hesitated. "Well… yes, in a way…"
Freya stepped closer, studying my face.
"You look awfully familiar," she said slowly. "Did I arrest you once? Some tavern brawl? Mercenary group, maybe?"
Realization flashed in her eyes. She started to speak, but I raised my hands first. A crowd had begun forming. That could not happen to keep my identity concealed.
My gaze drifted toward the shackles hanging at the towering knight's belt.
"It would be best to take me away," I said calmly. "Before more attention gathers. We can talk inside."
Veronica understood immediately. She secured the restraints and gestured for the others to follow.
We headed for a small customs cell used for interrogations. Quiet. Contained. Forgettable.
There I was left alone for nearly an hour while Nyx and the others went on to the inn. Only the trio remained nearby, along with two knights stationed at the door. The silence pressed in. Freya eventually burst through the door with Veronica behind her. She dropped to one knee. The trio followed.
"Lord von Knight… cousin. It is good to see you've finally returned home."
I sighed. "I haven't returned, Freya. Once my task here is finished, I will leave again. Never to return."
Her expression hardened.
"Do you truly despise our family that much? Me? Father? Your own sister?"
A deep voice rumbled from the towering knight. "And what about us who pledged our lives to you?"
I didn't answer. Instead I walked to the single suspended bed and sat down.
"The way I see it," I said quietly, staring calmly at the floor, "you all made your choices a long time ago."
Silence swallowed the room. "You waited until now to attempt to save me. Leaving to walk through hell alone."
My gaze rose to Veronica. "You are all dead to me."
I smiled. No anger. Just facts
Freya's breathing began faltering. The towering knight's gauntlet creaked softly while the other two avoided my gaze. Veronica stood silent. After a long moment, Freya stood and motioned for the others to follow her. The door shut behind them.
Veronica lingered. Her disappointment hung in the air.
"For what it's worth, brother," she said quietly. "Freya and the others stormed the palace in the dead of night when they learned what Uncle and I had done. Their devotion to you is something to truly treasure nowadays."
I said nothing.
She suddenly grabbed my collar and hauled me upright. "Say something."
I caught her wrist before a tremor could reach my hand. "What would you have me say?"
My voice was steady.
"Should I thank them? Grovel at their feet after years of torment? Perhaps tell them about the lives I was forced to take at ten?"
Her grip began to weaken. The shadows along the walls stirred to life.
"Or would you much prefer I explain the times I was assaulted," I continued softly, "without the ability to fight back."
The torches dimmed slightly. Not by command. By reaction.
Shadows stretched along the walls behind me, rising like a silent tide responding to the tension in my chest.
"Brother, calm down… I was just informing you of their loyalty toward you."
I inhaled slowly. Held it a few moments. Released it.
The shadows withdrew immediately. "Loyalty?"
Veronica spoke gently. "Though they wear the colors of Ironclad, they refused to become ascended in our ranks."
"I do not care what they refused," I said quietly. "You and they were not there."
–
The following day, I found myself sitting at a wooden table filled with food and drink in the adjoining restaurant of Swallowtail.
Luca sat across from me while the trio of girls giggled among themselves nearby – newly cleaned of the filth. Their ability to laugh again so soon was very admirable.
I pulled a smooth pouch from Penumbra and placed it in front of Luca. Coins clinked heavily against the table.
"Here."
The lepus rogue became hesitant. He finally took it on the second nod.
"Are you sure about this?"
I nodded while cutting a portion of steak for Orian beneath the table.
"You and I both know traveling with children is expensive. They'll need clothing. Supplies. Things that resemble comfort on the road back to Breura."
I took a drink. "And I highly doubt the little fox will spend the gold willingly."
Luca stared blankly inside the pouch. "There's at least a thousand pieces in here."
"Yes."
He studied me. "For years we've heard the many stories about the Jakul. Why this sudden change?"
Stories? Could the guild have spread rumors?
"I know what horrors they endured," I said simply. "Spatonamus was a cruel bastard."
"What did he do to them?" Luca asked carefully. "And you?"
The rabbit has balls to ask something like that.
I swirled the dark crimson liquid. "I can't say exactly what that bastard did to them."
I paused for a moment. "As for me… he took exception."
The music became delicate glass. "Him and Alabasta were inventive."
I drank again.
"They stripped me and bound me to a suspended stone table with wires thin enough to tighten whenever I moved."
Luca stopped eating.
"That was usually the beginning."
My face bore no emotion. "Once, my punishment ended with a bucket of Qhurralea venom. They laughed while it dissolved the outer layers of my skin."
Silence filled the inn.
I took a bite of roasted turnip. "I was suspended above a well of black water until my lungs convulsed. Leeches were a common threat."
A utensil dropped somewhere behind us.
"Sometimes they flayed strips from my back until I blacked out. Their preferred tool was the cat-of-nine-tails."
I flexed my fingers slightly. "Glass and nails woven into the strands.
I raised my cup. "Another ale, if you please."
The hostess hurried away.
I glanced back at Luca. "Did I say something improper?"
He stared at me. "I had it easier," he muttered. "Just a few lashings."
I nodded once.
"Alabasta considered me a lover of sorts, the bastard," I said evenly. "He was the gentler of the duo."
I paused for a moment while a tense waitress filled my mug. "He often wrapped my wounds," I lowered my gaze, "but that was the extent of his kindness."
"He wrapped my wounds afterward." I lowered my eyes briefly. "That was the full extent of his kindness."
I fed the last piece of steak to Orian. "To prepare you, I will tell you that Spatonamus had a tendency to play with his female toys."
Luca's eyes snapped on to the laughing girls
"Their minds are probably scarred to a point that we don't know yet," I whispered. "They will probably become fearful sometimes, but give them time to heal."
I admired the three girls. "I truly believe that they will come out stronger than ever."
–
Later, while resting against the wall, I enjoyed the silent hum of the tavern. Swallowtail rendered a softer atmosphere than Raven's Claw. Music floated gently between each table. Each step of the patrons and workers a systematic thud to each beat.
Ironclad had once been my home for what seems to be a long time ago. Before my parents were killed and my imprisonment. And once again, briefly, after I escaped Alabasta. Those years were spent deciding what I truly wanted to achieve.
Now it felt distant. Almost like another life.
Without thinking, I unintentionally began humming a lullaby my mother always sang. "The black bird sings in the dead of night…"
The melody always steadied me – even in times of danger.
For a moment, I could almost feel her soft lips against my forehead. The tavern gave way to my and Veronica's childhood room. My father is standing behind our mother with one arm around her waist. They looked down at us proudly – joyous.
Then that warmth dissolved.
Mother's skin darkened. Cracked. Burned. Father's chest split around the spiraled blade embedded within it.
Their eyes hollowed into eternal darkness, watching me.
Orian's claws dug sharply into my shoulder. Cold ale splashed across my lap. Reality abruptly snapped back in place.
"Please forgive me, my Lord!" A young girl hurried forward, wiping the spill.
"Don't worry about it," I said gently – using a handkerchief to help with the spill. "Accidents happen out of nowhere. Did any spill on you?"
She shook her head quickly, bowing repeatedly. "I swear it wasn't on purpose. The tray slipped and…"
Her body tensed when I raised my hand. I rested it lightly on her head anyway – ruffling her hair like I did with Aaron.
"You're not mad?"
"As I said… accidents happen."
I motioned for her to cup her hands and counted thirty gold pieces into her hands. "Ten for the cleaning. Twenty for the meal."
Then I added fifteen more. "These are for you to keep. I'll let the hostess know personally."
Her eyes widened. "Thank you a hundred-fold, my Lord."
She hesitated before leaving.
"If I may ask… where did you hear that lullaby? Not many people seem to know it."
"My mother sang it to me when I was young," I replied.
She smiled faintly. "My Ma often sings it too. When I asked where she heard, she learned it from someone she admired."