Vol.7 Ch.167- The Storm Before The Tournament

I finished up in the restroom and "accidentally" started wandering around the back halls of the lord's mansion. There was the occasional servant or guard, but the moment they saw me, they gave me a confused and or surprised look, which was just how things were. I had long since gotten used to it. I wasn't in any area that was off-limits per se, but I'm certain my status helped with people giving me nothing more than a passing glance.

I was hunting this phantom person that I simply sensed. I had no idea who they were or what they wanted, and in a case like that, I wasn't sure if I could even trust my gut. But still, I decided that I would. Every time something like that happened, it led me to somewhere or someone important.

It was an odd sensation that bothered me greatly, and instead of going around blind, I focused mana into my left eye and searched through the building. Seeing through multiple walls with any amount of accuracy was difficult, but I had gotten much better with practice. I saw countless souls in various rooms spread out across the halls, even though distinguishing their unique characteristics was a challenge unless I focused hard enough. But after some time, I found the room that housed my family.

After a few more minutes of searching and focusing, I pinned down a corner of the building that was bursting with the light of powerful souls. I hastened my steps toward the light and shut off the source of mana to my eye. Whether by coincidence or that they somehow sensed me, the moment I rounded the corner of the hallway, a door opened, letting in a gust of fresh outside air that smelled of the sea.

A giant armored hand gripped the top of the frame like a monster of metal crawling out from a tiny hole. The door was average-sized, but the man that emerged from it made it seem that it was built for a child. He slowly lumbered into the hallway, his golden and cobalt blue armor plates against each other, not even pretending to look elsewhere as he stared straight at me.

I instantly recognized him as a paladin of the Order of Holy Light, one of the Pontifex's personal guards. He left his hammer on his back and crossed his arms as he watched me in silence. And right behind him was the second guard, who similarly crawled out from the doorway. There was a slight clacking sound as a frail old woman wearing flowing white robes slowly moved into the hallway with her cane.

She, too, looked right at me. Her small lips formed into a thin smile, and her eyes looked pleased to see me. It was a stark contrast from the last time I caught a glimpse of her. When I caught her the morning after my ceremony sitting absentmindedly in the palace's garden, she sent me a murderous glare that made it evident she did not find my presence remotely enjoyable.

But now…she seemed to almost be expecting me. And that smile is sickening. But this wasn't the odd sensation I felt.

"Good evening, Sir Dragonslayer. It's an honor to get a chance to speak with you finally," the pontifex said in a hoarse voice.

"Pontifex," I responded dryly.

The wrinkles on her face stretched as her smile widened. "Please, there is no need for titles. I'm but a humble servant of my god. You can call me by my name, Muriel."

My heart sank in my chest at that name. Grandpa had told me the pontifex's name was Elizabeth, not Muriel. That choice of name was not an accident.

"Pontifex will do. I can't be calling the head of a church by such a name," I responded coldly.

Her smile grew at my silence as she shifted her weight to the other leg. "I understand. The burden of keeping up appearances is indeed a daunting assignment given to those who are amongst God's chosen. But tell me something, Sir Dragonslayer, would you care for the task to be lifted? Even if just a little? Why don't you join us? We would love nothing more than to welcome you into the light."

I narrowed my eyes at the old woman. "Who's this 'we' and 'us'?"

Her lips parted, revealing her pearl-white teeth. She met my eyes with an odd fervor that sent a chill up my spine. I didn't get the impression that she or her guards would attack me. It seemed they weren't that foolish or suicidal.

Even so, she didn't bother to answer my question. I wondered if she was just that confident or if she already knew that I knew. I'm not sure which one was more concerning.

But this conversation has led me to two possible answers for everything. Either Amon-Ra has been watching me just like the Moon Mother has. Or the Holy Kingdom is far more ingrained into the nations of the world than even the queen suspects.

"Not interested."

Her smile faltered slightly, and she shrugged her small shoulders. "It can't be helped." Her smile morphed into one that felt more practiced, more fit for those in nobility. It was like a mask had been drawn over her wrinkly face. "I pray for your success in this tournament, Sir Dragonslayer. I hope the light guides you to the path you deserve."

She slowly turned and hobbled down the hall. Both her paladin guards gave me one final glare from behind their helmets and turned to follow their leader in silence.

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding and scratched the back of my head. Why was the pontifex here in Flumare? There was no reason for her to be in the city as no contestants were from the Holy Kingdom, and even less so for her to be here at this event.

Was she here simply to observe us? But the queen would have told me if the pontifex was in town, let alone coming here to the pre-tournament event for the students. Does that mean this woman managed to remain unknown and…

Who did she just meet with?

I took a few steps and looked through the doorway. It led to a small open-air garden that was lit up by a few lanterns dangling from hooks. The sea breeze shook the lanterns, and a gazebo-type structure was at the garden's center. Green vines snaked up the columns and spread out across the wooden top, and pink and blue spring flowers bloomed in the beds illuminated by the moon.

And sitting alone in a chair underneath the gazebo was a single man draped in a fine white and teal cloth robe. His figure was nothing to boast about, and he seemed unimposing in size, even on the smaller side for his race. Long High Elf ears poked out from his short and wavy hair. His hair looked to have once been a platinum blonde, but in most places it had lost its luster as streaks of gray ran from the top of his scalp and down to the sides.

He turned to look at me, a knowing grin plastered on his chiseled and handsome face as his pale gray eyes looked me up and down. For the second time, I saw an Elf that looked "old." Even compared to my father's dad, this man looked to have aged an additional ten or twenty years.

He was an Elf in his Final Decade, and soft wrinkles curled up at the side of his eyes. If he weren't an Elf, he would have been in his early fifties. But even so, regardless of how he looked, I didn't even need to ask his name to know who he was. My Elven senses had already notified me the moment I laid eyes on him.

Because this man is my grandfather. The former Emperor of Tel'an'duth, Thrandil.

"What's wrong? Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all night? I'm just glad you noticed my intentions," he said with a friendly tone as he motioned to the chair next to him. His voice wasn't deep or soft but rather somewhere in the middle. It had a stately order to it.

"That depends. What did you talk about with the pontifex?" I questioned.

He put on a playful smile and shrugged casually. "Nothing significant, really. She asked for my help. I told her no. After all, I'm just a regular old man these days." I raised an eyebrow, and he grinned back at me. "Come now, sit, please. It's not every day that a man my age gets to see his grandson. Especially for the first time."

Should I? Can his words be trusted? Do I even want to speak to the man who used and abused my mother for hundreds of years? I—

"I sense your hesitation. I'm sure you've been told all kinds of things about me. Before you come to any kind of rash decision, why don't you at least hear my side of things, mmm?" he said in a tone that was far more lighthearted than it should have been.

"What other decision can I come to? You treated my mother as a tool to be used and disposed of," I snapped back.

His lips curled down into a frown but only for a moment. He ran a hand through his short hair and chuckled to himself. "That's one way to look at it, I suppose."

"That's the only way to look at it."

He eyed me, but oddly enough, he didn't seem mad or frustrated at my curt remarks. Perhaps he expected it.

"For someone who knows next to nothing of what it means to be a child in a massive royal family, I do admit that it is the only way you can look at it. But do you know something, Kaladin? Do you know why I'm right?" he asked, seemingly genuinely. Of course, I didn't bother answering him. "It's simple, really. Here I am, talking to my grandson. He's here, right in front of me, alive, breathing, and accomplishing great things with his life. You know who can't do that, Kaladin?"

"Who?" I asked, playing along.

A part of me wanted to hear his excuse. Why did he do the things that he did? Why did someone like Doctor Octario throw away the lives of countless? Use real, living people as tools? What could be the justification? What made these madmen tick? I understood the logic to a degree, but…that was all.

He narrowed his gray eyes into slits. He even exuded a small amount of bloodlust as a cloud covered the moon. "My siblings. The only way you can talk to them or their family is by visiting their graves."

…

Thrandil let out a deep sigh at my silence and chuckled to himself again. "It was either them or me. I'm sure you've gotten a taste of what it's like to be a noble, even if it's only a morsel of the entire pie. The things nobles do to each other, even blood relatives, are quite…wicked and cruel. Imagine what my siblings would have done if they knew I had an illegitimate daughter with the only woman I loved, a commoner at that. I'll tell you one thing. They wouldn't have invited me over for wine and cheese."

"So that gives you a right to use my mother as a means to an end? To train your first daughter to be a killing machine before she even sees her tenth birthday? For what? Your own sake and dignity?" I said back coldly to him.

He shook his head. "That's not the reason at all. Everything I did, I did for… I did it for Seana and Elara. My eldest sister killed Seana's mother the moment she caught wind of my plan to abandon everything and run away. You should know that hiding in the mountains as a royal is impossible. And loose claims, regardless of how insignificant, must be purged or handled appropriately to guarantee a proper accession to the throne." Thrandil looked up at me with tired eyes. "Well, at least I assume you should understand."

"You used your own daughter for revenge? That makes it even worse," I said with narrowed eyes, not even bothering to hide the venom in my voice.

He snorted and let his head and shoulders slump down. "Maybe I did. But the only thing that matters is that Seana is alive. And through my actions, she gained the power to stand on her own. My daughter could slash and burn through any assassin sent her way. She has the skills to avoid detection from the most elite hunters and can blend into the poorest regions or the most wealthy. I'm proud to say that even if I failed Elara in this life, Seana would have been at least able to live. It doesn't matter if you die a king or a beggar because when you die, there's nothing."

He looked back up at me slowly—a genuine smile on his face contrasting with his empty eyes. "I saw Seana when she came into the city. It was only from a distance, but…I watched her smile as she looked at her new family. I never saw her smile like that before…it really did remind me of her mother. Seana seemed far happier than she ever was. I might have failed to give her that happiness personally, but I'm even more confident that my choices were the right ones now. I'd do it all over again."

I felt the rage build in my heart at his words. "Suffering for over three hundred years…just for a sliver of happiness that you didn't even bring yourself, and you are proud of that? You clearly think you had no other choice, but if I've learned anything over these last few years, dying as a free man is far better than living as a slave to another person. My mother finally broke as a person because of the hell she went through. You sent my mother into the enemy camp surrounded by some of the most powerful people in Brax. If that's not a suicide mission, then I don't know what is. She got lucky, and it had nothing to do with the strength you forced upon her," I spat.

"That's—I didn't—" Thrandil stuttered as I interrupted him.

"I don't care if it was by your orders or not. Your actions and decisions that you defend so vehemently are what led her there. She made her own happiness without you. You had three hundred years to make amends after you ascended to the throne but didn't—"

"That's because I still had enemies! A bastard is a bastard, no matter what I do! I just can't—"

My rage boiled over and into contempt as I watched my grandfather, a former emperor at that, defend himself. I heard this man was dangerous, a powerful fighter on par with a War God. That much I could confirm just via his soul. The few stories I heard were that he would even personally appear on the front lines and wreak havoc, pretending to be an ordinary soldier despite being the current emperor.

After all, he led an empire in a war for three centuries. He neither lost nor won and managed to maintain his power throughout all those years. And in the end, he successfully made peace and passed on the torch to the next in his bloodline. He may not be the best ruler ever to exist, but he should be well respected for years to come.

Even so…I can't help but hate his guts. Was it irrational? Was there some truth to his words? Do I not fully understand the circumstances? Maybe.

But I don't care. If I were in his shoes, I would have burned Tel'an'duth and my enemies to the ground. I'd do that for Mila in a heartbeat.

"A pathetic excuse. I don't know what my mother thinks of you, but I know how I feel about you now. I hope what you said about denying the pontifex was true. Because if I find out you lied…I won't feel bad for what I have to do, Grandpa," I said, devoid of all emotions.

The cloud moved from the moon and illuminated his face. It was blank, expressionless. Was he sad that his grandson from his first daughter hated him? Did he finally start to regret his decisions? Probably not. And I didn't have anything else to say to him. After all, he was just an old Elf now.

—

Linnetia "Nyx" Paine's POV

I finished a conversation with…some noble brat from… I forgot where in Sandervile. I didn't hate these events and just got used to them over time. It was just expected that a lady of my station would participate. I simply just got used to them a long time ago.

Honestly, I was really hoping things would be more laid back, considering everyone here should be the same age. There should also be a fair amount of commoners here, but most of them are from Luminar. The other nations' most prominent schools only allow those of lesser status on rare occasions, if ever. A quick scan of the room can find the pockets of kids who want to crawl out of their skin.

An event like this was just too rich for their blood, and I honestly did sympathize with them. I was of the belief that things should be more laid back, considering we would be swinging dangerous weapons and slinging magic spells at each other in just a few hours.

But that's above my station…sigh…

I looked over to Cerila, who was busily talking to Adria Sandervile with a smile on her face. It was weird to witness the two converse for many reasons that didn't need to be brought up. Yet regardless, the two seemed to have found common ground…which was odd. And it was just as awkward to see the heir to the House of Dun stand by awkwardly and try to interject himself into the conversation.

I heard the sound of footsteps approach me and let out another mental sigh, preparing myself for the inevitable long-winded and pointless conversation I would have to undergo. But thankfully, and much to my surprise, a pair of blood-red eyes looked right at me. And I couldn't help but smile.

"Is talking to people that exhausting?" I asked the Vampire.

Sylvia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, yet she seemed oddly pleased for some reason. "Don't pretend like you are any better. I was under the impression this would be a more…casual event."

I chuckled, and Sylvia smiled slightly. "You and I both. But does that mean I'm just better at hiding my emotions than you?"

Sylvia shrugged, maintaining her slight grin. "Maybe. But I just don't feel like pretending anymore. It gets tiresome to hear the same question a million times."

"Oh? And what would that question be?" I whispered. Sylvia's face twitched for just a brief moment, and I smiled. "It mustn't have been that much of a burden, right?" I teased.

"I—it was just nonsense. They shouldn't care about…those things…and who I'm with…it's none of their business," she whimpered quietly, her face flushing.

Oh? Sylvia doesn't usually act like this. Hah…it really is good to see this side of her sometimes, though.

"I—"

There was a loud crash followed by a scream somewhere on the opposite side of the room. A few more shouts of surprise accompanied that scream, Sylvia's ears twitched, and her face hardened as she focused on the noise.

There was too much conversation and things banging around. I couldn't discern anything from that distance, even if I wanted to. But there were a few more shouts, and finally, someone said something.

"A cat?!"

Oh god…no…please…anything but this. This can't keep happening.

The crowd parted, and a black ball dashed between a girl's legs electing a high-pitched screech from her. Like a rocket, it blasted off straight into my arms. He looked up at me and just meowed.

All I could do was blink in confusion. Commander should have been with Mila and the other kids in a room somewhere else. Mr. Shadowheart was even here personally watching the children because Kaladin's family was invited by Lord Marinos to attend even if they didn't come to the main ceremony. It was meant as a gesture of good faith…

There were a few more gasps of surprise, and a very haggard and frightened-looking Mila rounded the girl who screamed previously. The poor girl looked white as a sheet as she nervously looked up at the dozens of faces watching her.

Her eyes darted around frantically as I imagined she was searching for my cat but ended up here. I watched her mental state as it crumbled in real time. Even Sylvia's shouts for Mila to come to her were entirely ignored. And to make matters worse, Mila accidentally bumped into someone's legs while still in a daze.

And if the room wasn't silent before, it was now.

Smack.

I was baffled at the sight. I had to blink a few times just to make sure what I witnessed actually happened. But that surprise gave way to genuine anger. I couldn't believe someone would do that to a child.

"What is some rat doing here, bumping into me of all people? Someone put a leash on this thing," a female voice spat.

A High Elf girl with bright pink hair wearing the silver and turquoise uniform of Saber Academy of Tel'an'duth didn't hesitate at all to smack Mila across the face the second she bumped into her. She was flanked by two lackeys wearing a similar uniform, but their blue of choice was more royal blue in color. Which, if I'm not mistaken, meant that they were just Sentinel candidates, unlike the girl who was actually on her way to graduating as a fully-fledged Sentinel.

Mila sprawled out across the ground from the slap, without so much as a sound, a deep hard mark across her cheek. Instead of crying or freaking out, she just seemed entirely despondent. I hesitated to look next to me. Sylvia stared forward with a cold fury that made even me swallow my saliva in anticipation.

I watched as crimson blood dripped down her tightly clenched hands and began to morph. My eyes went wide, and I wasn't confident in what I was witnessing, but I knew it would be bad if things escalated even more.

I reached out and jerked Sylvia's arm. Her head snapped toward me, and she glared down at me, fury in her eyes. "Sylvia, please…just take a deep breath," I pleaded.

A vein bulged under her eye, and I had a feeling I somehow managed to make her even angrier. Was it really true that telling a frustrated person to calm down made them even more irritated? Because that seemed to be the case here.

I just didn't want her to burn down everything she and Kaladin had built up. Even if this High Elf deserved it.

Mila had gotten up and slowly trudged toward us in a daze. Sylvia bit her lip and looked down at Mila with a worried expression that panged my heart. I didn't want to be the bad guy…I just didn't…

"Mila, dear, it's ok—"

"Mommy..help…"

The air caught in my throat and Varnir, who had pushed his way through the crowd, let out a choked gasp. Those of us who knew were very aware of what those words meant. I wasn't sure if Mila was just in a traumatized state and had no idea what she was saying anymore or if she truly meant those words.

But it didn't really matter if Mila meant what she said. Because Sylvia took them at face value. A mix of emotions crossed her face rapidly, but she eventually settled on a stern look. She glared at the High Elf, a single tear dripped down her face.

"Ah…I see now…it only makes sense that some runaway varmint would call a Vampire mother. How truly disgusting," she spat.

The blood in Sylvia's hand congealed into a sharp, thin needle that she held onto tightly. Her hand was red as she was death gripping it, and she gently guided Mila to stand behind her with her free hand. She gave me a serious look that ordered me to watch Mila, and I just nodded. At the end of the day, what Sylvia did in defense of Mila really was none of my business.

Even so, I was starting to wonder if I should have this High Elf killed in the middle of the night. Maybe if Sylvia didn't kill her on the spot, I could do that later. It should be easy to make it look like an accident.

Sylvia strode over but abruptly stopped. The High Elf sneered and was about to make another crude remark just when Sylvia sighed. "I guess today just isn't your lucky day, is it? Whore."

The High Elf blanched at Sylvia's cold words, but before she could make a comeback, she flicked around with expert speed. However, she just wasn't fast enough. A tan blur slapped her across the face. Well, calling it a slap was just wrong.

Kaladin appeared from seemingly nowhere in dead silence and basically open-handed hooked the High Elf in the face. The girl's gold eyes rolled back into her head as her legs gave out. She buckled forward, then backward onto her knees, unconscious before she even hit the ground. I wouldn't be surprised if she were dead.

"How dare—"

One of the other High Elves, a man with blond hair, was slapped in a similar fashion before he could even finish his sentence. He, too, joined his comrade on the ground in a blink of an eye.

The brown-haired half-Elf at least had the smarts to take a step back and not announce his presence. A silver saber appeared from thin air and into his hands, and he thrust it straight toward Kaladin's head.

Kaladin just brought his hand up and took the sword straight to his palm. The blade went all the way through, being covered in slick blood and splattering across Kaladin's cheeks and eyes. Kaladin's face was blank as he gripped the sword and pulled it toward him. This time he punched the half-Elf in the face and, on the way down, gave him a swift kick to the jaw, sending shards of white and splats of red across the carpet.

That guy might actually be dead…

It was brutal and efficient. I won't lie. I was impressed. Those were the moves I was most familiar with. Kaladin wasn't messing around. And as far as I was concerned, they got their just deserts.

The crowd was dead silent as they watched the events unfold in a matter of minutes. For most, it was probably a confusing mess. A High Elf Sentinel from Tel'an'duth had smacked a child that ran into her and she, along with her cronies, got smacked down by the Dragonslayer.

A retinue of guards from Luminar and Tel'an'duth pushed through the crowd. After all, it was only natural that the guards or soldiers from each nation were here to protect their children and students. A High Elf in silver armor with twin sabers at the hips looked beyond belligerent as if he was ready to kill. However, the second his eyes met Kaladin's, he paled visibly in the face.

Perhaps the three fools on the ground didn't recognize Kaladin or just didn't have enough time to process who he was. Or maybe they really just were idiots and didn't care. But everyone here should have known who Kaladin Shadowheart was.

And going against him is akin to going against the continent…if the queen of Luminar's words were to be believed, that is.

Kaladin slowly scanned the room and looked down at the pile of bodies. "The next person that lays a hand on my daughter…" He turned his cold gaze out to the crowd and let his bloodlust fill the room. "Will die."

A shadow warped next to me, and Kaladin's father's head poked out from it. "I really messed up…" he whispered quietly.

Yeah…I think that's an understatement.