Vol.7 Ch.156- The Old Exarch.

"Again," Grandpa's voice echoed in the empty forest. "Again."

I walked through the brush until I was behind the old man. He paid me no mind as he leaned on his cane and stared straight forward. I followed his gaze and watched Ren as she went through a series of practiced swings and moves with the new sword that she had recently gotten.

It was a katana, just like her old one, but this one was completely different. The blade was white as snow, while the single curved edge was pitch black. Even the wrapping of her grip was white, and the handguard was adorned with gold wisps that looked like clouds or maybe mist.

Ren had shown it to me, and I had to admit it was a beautiful weapon. But, according to her, it wasn't just for looks either as it was also valuable from a practical standpoint. It was also highly specced. The blade was constructed hundreds of years ago and has stood the test of time. It was lightweight yet incredibly sharp with its Mythril edge.

Even so…that doesn't explain what is going on here.

"What do you want, Boy?" Grandpa asked, not even bothering to turn his head. "As you can see, we are busy."

I just sighed. "I was hoping to talk to you sooner rather than later. This just happened to be a good opportunity since you rarely leave the house unless you are training Cerila."

He said nothing to me for a moment. "Again."

Ren responded with a nod, sheathed her sword, and dropped into a low stance only to unsheathe it again and move through her movements once more. I'm not sure I would call her movements graceful, like Dad when he uses his spear, but there was something to it.

When Ren trained, I always felt her sincerity in everything she did. Ren was the type of person to give it her all, even if she wasn't naturally gifted in whatever she was doing. Hard work and determination are what showed in her movements, at least to me that is.

"What do you see?" Grandpa asked quietly.

"Somebody who is working hard," I told him.

Grandpa grunted and turned his head to the side slightly. "Not someone with an overflowing amount of talent?"

"No, I wouldn't say she possesses the talent of that level," I said honestly.

Grandpa nodded to himself, seemingly pleased with my answer. "I see…leave it to you to understand the genius of another. Not many people would be able to see what you see in her."

"Ren is a genius? And I'm not sure I would qualify myself as a genius either," I said, looking at the old man from the side.

"She is a genius in another way that many do not understand. People think that being talented, intelligent, or naturally skilled is what makes someone a genius, but I disagree. Have you ever heard that you can't polish a genius?" Grandpa asked.

"Polish a genius? No…I can't say that I have," I told him.

"That's because people think that geniuses are perfect. Because if you aren't perfect, then you can't be a genius. But what is a genius without hard work? The answer is nothing more than a shiny stone that will never accomplish anything but being remembered for being pretty," the old man grumbled.

"Again," he called out. "Not everyone possesses the abilities or determination of you and Cerila. It takes a different type of person to be both gifted and hard-working. Those who are gifted often let their gifts crumble away as the world showers them with praise, while those who are hardworking will uncover the gems inside themselves that they or anyone else never thought existed."

"So you are saying that Ren is a gem that you found?" I asked.

Grandpa snorted, and even from beneath his long beard, I could see him scowl. "I didn't find her. Somebody else already did. The girl sent a letter to me and asked me to see her at least once. I agreed on a whim, but…" he trailed off.

I chuckled to myself. "She's more than you expected?"

"No, her former master failed as her teacher. That old bastard…imagine failing to polish such a precious gem that wanted to shine more than anything else. A disgusting failure on his part," Grandpa snarled. "If only I had found her years ago, she would be a different person."

Her master? Is he really talking about Master Maran? Does he perhaps know him?

"I'm not sure. Given Ren's low innate talent, I think she is far ahead of many people her age. I'm not sure I would call her a failure," I argued.

Grandpa snorted again and shook his head. "You are wrong. You are looking at the short turn and what she has accomplished up till now. I wouldn't expect a boy of your age to understand what the future might hold for someone in her position. She can be so much greater…let me show you."

"Girl, enter your second sword form now," Grandpa barked.

"Yes!" Ren shouted back with sweat dripping down her forehead.

Instead of resetting her form and sheathing her sword, Ren started moving forward. Her swings went wider as she stepped into each strike, and her speed increased with every step.

"Use that Dragon eye or whatever. Tell me what you see," Grandpa said quietly.

I did as he asked and put mana into my eyes, activating Soul Sight. Thanks to Avasta's meddling with my eye, I never had to worry about being in agonizing physical pain when I accidentally looked at a powerful person's soul. It was far more manageable now, and it felt more like my eyes were sore than anything.

Even so…I'm not looking directly at Grandpa, but his soul is overwhelming even from the corner of my vision. How can an old man be so strong?

I put that thought away for the time being and watched Ren closely. This wasn't the first time I had observed the Princess's soul. Her soul appeared as a blazing fire that spread to every inch of her body. But Grandpa was right. Something seemed different from the flow of her mana.

I had never used my Soul Sight while Ren was training before, so it was a new experience for me. But I had used it on myself and others before…

"The flow of her mana enhancement is quite good. It's different from other people. More direct and powerful, almost. One could say it's more explosive," I muttered.

That's right, Ren's mana is flowing into the spaces of her muscles that are needed for whatever movement she is trying to do. If she were trying to swing her sword, the mana would fill up in her shoulders, hips, and knees. It was like a fire spreading into a room and quickly engulfing it.

"Is that so?" Grandpa chuckled. "To think that eye can really see that even though her current technique won't show it."

"Girl, flow into your third sword form," Grandpa ordered.

Ren was panting harder, but with months of training, she was in the best shape of her life. It just showed how hard Grandpa had been pushing her. It made me wonder how long she had been at it to get this tired.

Despite her fatigue, Ren gave a loud grunt, and her movements increased twofold in speed. Every slash held more power, and her blade whooshed through the hair with enough force to separate a man in half. Inside her body, her mana flared and responded to her call.

Even with the increase in her power, her steps never faltered or lacked discipline. Her form did not waver in the slightest. Even as her breathing grew more ragged, she moved through her third form.

"See, her hard work and dedication to these forms are her own form of genius. If everyone in the world worked as hard as Cerila, you and her, people would be more monstrous than even Dragons," Grandpa said quietly, his voice full of admiration.

Stronger than Dragons? This old man…

"What is driving such strong praise for her? You aren't like this, Grandpa. Not even with Mila and Dallin," I asked.

The old man gave me a sour look. "I recognize hard work and talent when I see it. I praised you enough," he snapped back. "Besides, that girl managed something not even I could do in my prime. I couldn't mimic the third form as well as she could," he added solemnly, almost in a whisper.

"I don't seem to remember that happening all that often," I grumbled, ignoring the last part.

Grandpa ignored me and whacked his cane hard against the floor. "That's enough, Girl. Come here."

Ren immediately stopped and resheathed her sword. She walked over to us with determined steps, but her face and hair were drenched in sweat. She tried to calm her breathing, but it took her a few moments. Grandpa did not interrupt her.

The old man looked down at her hip where her sword hung. "Did that old fool you call master really give you his sword, Girl?"

"My…name…is—"

"I didn't ask, and I don't care," Grandpa snapped back. "Seems he has been too lax with you, Girl. You seek my counsel, so don't think that you are that special. I am not that fool, and I never will be. I can die a happy man right now, knowing that he failed where I succeeded."

Sigh…he's right back to where he was. He went from praising her to this—such a grouchy old man.

Ren furrowed her brows and clenched her fists. "Sorry, Sir. Yes, Master did leave me his sword as well as a book to finish my stu—"

Grandpa stopped leaning on his cane and took a quick step forward, moving far faster than his aging body should allow. "Did you say a book? He wrote his techniques down in a book?! Is this true, Girl!?"

Ren gave me a scared look and shook from the surprising outburst from the old man. Even I was even surprised at Grandpa's fervor.

"Ah, yes…Sir, he did—"

"How many forms are in that book?" Grandpa asked, nearly getting in Ren's face.

"All ten…Sir," Ren said, meeting his eyes and standing straighter.

"Ten? There are ten now…maybe he did continue to improve after all…" Grandpa mumbled as he stepped back.

The old man ran a hand through his long white beard and had a pensive look on his face. His swirling emerald eyes seemed to be in deep thought from behind his thick glasses.

Time dragged on as Ren, and I exchanged glances a few times until Grandpa cleared his throat and looked at Ren. "How much of that book have you read and mastered?"

"I've read it all, but it's been difficult to grasp. Anything past the fourth form seems to be unreachable for me. I'm having a hard time deciphering the complex moves…and what I should do to practice them."

Grandpa clicked his tongue and bit his lip. "Damn that bastard. Tell me, Girl, did he send you to me?"

Ren nodded, and Grandpa pulled on his beard hard. "Bastard…damn old fool, he is doing this on purpose," he muttered to himself. "He should have worked harder and done what he wanted instead of listening to his brother…what a shame."

Grandpa seemed almost sad at the last part, but that vanished quickly. The old man glared at Ren with fire in his eyes. "I'll train you, Girl. Bring me that book, and I will have it deciphered in two days."

"Wait, you real—" Grandpa's glare intensified, and Ren stood a little straighter. "Yes, Sir, I'll bring the book to you this instant."

Ren stood still while Grandpa turned around to face me. After a few steps, Grandpa looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing standing there? Do you need permission to walk? Go get it."

"Ah, yes, sir!" Ren said, bolting off into the forest immediately.

Grandpa clicked his tongue. "He was too damn soft on her…she didn't need another daddy. She needed a mentor," he grumbled, but his eyes looked at me. "You helped her train, did you not?"

"I did," I responded.

"You did well. Her body is honed and is in the perfect state for training. I will make her regret seeking me out or mold her into something great," the old man chuckled.

Perhaps…this is good for Ren? No, it definitely is. I have a feeling that this is something she truly wants for herself. At least, that's the impression I'm getting. And if Master Maran sugged it as well…mmm.

"I'll take the compliment," I said as I motioned to my side, two stone chairs sprouting from the ground. "Now, shall we have that talk?"

"You are going to make an old man sit in the cold this early—"

"Please, Grandpa, this is a serious matter," I said sternly.

The old man looked up at me with a bushy raised eyebrow but nodded slowly to himself. "Okay. But first…" Grandpa pointed his cane out into the woods. "Go away. You may be able to hide from most people but not from me. I'll only ask you once."

I smiled bitterly as I watched the air wobble and wave as Tsarra sprinted off into the woods. "You know that's my aunt. I would prefer it if you treated her a little better."

Grandpa snorted to himself and sat down in the stone chair with a grunt. "She's not my aunt, so what does it matter to me," he grumbled. "Now…what is it that you want to know?"

"A lot of things, to be honest. Where do you want to start?" I asked.

Grandpa flashed his cane and poked me in the shin. "Quit playing games with me, Boy. Just ask the damn question," he said with a tired sigh.

"Then let's start at the beginning. Why do you hate Vampires so much? Even more so than most," I asked simply.

The old man grimaced at me and sent a glare my way. "I told you why. The real question is what is there to like abou—"

"That's not the truth, is it?" I said, interrupting his rant before it could go off the rails. "You were an Exarch, one of the most influential and powerful people in the country of Arotal, and yet, even after all these years, I've never once heard you mention Amon-Ra. Even in your own home, you don't have a single religious artifact. Someone who should have been as devout as you should have been should have at least had something, even if they were hiding from the public eye. So…why?"

I watched him closely as he shut his eyes and sank into the chair. I could hear him swallow his own spit and roll his tongue in his mouth before slightly opening his eyes. "Because they are monsters just acting as ordinary people."

He glared at me, stopping me from saying something back. "And before you get defensive, just listen to my story. I haven't told anyone of this story…not in over fifty years. Your parents don't even know it. But when I was a boy, I was a typical poor orphan that you could find anywhere in the world. I lived in a small town outside of Korvin in the north of Artotal, in a run-down and long-forgotten abbey. "

Grandpa let out a deep and almost sad sigh. "I never knew my parents, but the people there were like my family. There were only twenty of us. The old priest that took care of us children and called us family was a kind man. The type of man that would go days without eating if it meant we could get just a little more stale bread in a salty, watery soup. He was selfless, the true example of a saint. I admired him greatly at the time…but it was his selflessness that led us to ruin. One day, a young girl, no older than ten, came home with the priest."

"She…was a Vampire, wasn't she?" I asked.

Grandpa nodded slowly, the fire he emitted from earlier seeming like a dream. "That's right, she was. We begged the priest to get rid of her at first, but he was too kind. He would yell at us and tell us that she was in need, just like us. That we had no right to turn her away. And after a long time, we eventually saw her as one of our own. But then one terrible winter came…our measly food supplies were nothing more than a pile of spoiled potatoes and bread not even fit for a Barn Rat. There was a girl there with me, Aru, my best friend and the person I was the closest to. I remember her telling me that she was so hungry she thought she might die. Being the brave young fool that I was, I told her that I would go into the woods and get some mushrooms for us…"

Grandpa trailed off, not saying anything for a long time. He looked deep in thought as he remembered his past. I had never heard the old man talk so much about the past before. I got the feeling that if I breathed too loud, he would stop talking.

"I came back empty handed…most of the mushrooms were long gone as they should have been, and my hands were so cold they were turning blue. So I made my way back with my head down, and I knew that something was wrong as the abbey was silent. Even on our worst of days, the place was never like that, but I was too cold and too hungry to care, so I went inside. And what I found was the thick smell of metal in the air and a massacre. I found my family ripped to shreds or drained of their blood, nothing more than frigid corpses, cold as the snow outside. All at the hands of that Vampire. She had killed all of them in a bloodthirsty rage, and not even the old priest was able to stop her. The strength of a bloodthirsty and maddened Vampire is nothing to write off," he recounted.

Grandpa looked up at me with tired eyes. "The only reason I'm still alive is thanks to the old Paladin that just so happened to have come by that day. She was a drunkard that spent all her time in town drinking and gambling, a real nasty woman that never came to the abbey despite it being her post. But even so, she saved me. I was moments away from having my throat ripped out when she cut the head off that monster." Grandpa's glare turned cold. "You know it better than most. What it means to truly be hungry, Kaladin. So do I. Even now, I can remember that hunger in my stomach I felt as a boy. But no matter how hungry I got, I never dreamed of killing my family, of killing Aru. Even in the worst times of my life, the thought never once crossed my mind. Only a beast is capable of resorting to such means."

"That's…one case it's—"

Grandpa snorted and ran a hand through his beard and up to his face, rubbing his eyes. "One case? Really? You are wrong. That occurrence is common. I would know because it wouldn't be the last time I saw it with my own two eyes. Families were ripped about by a lone, mad Vampire who was just hungry. I've seen what happened to me countless times. That Vampire that you cling to has never known hunger. You have sated her for a long time, but what happens when that's not enough? When she feels that hunger? There's no reason to think about it. She will do as what all Vampires have done before and after her. She will seek the blood of anyone she can get her hands on. One day that might even be her own family."

"You're wrong. Sylvia is and never will be like that. Humans can be just as brutal when they are hungry. Maybe you wouldn't know, but I do. I fought grown men tooth and nail for even an extra dribble of slop. What's the difference between ripping their throats out for slop or for blood?" I said back firmly.

Grandpa shook his head. "The difference is everything. You wouldn't defile the man you killed for sustenance. That's the difference between a desperate, pitiful person and a monster." Grandpa let out a deep sigh and turned away from me. "I'm done talking about this. I have nothing more to say to you, and I'll never change my mind, so don't ask again," he said with finality.

I guess we will never see eye to eye…damn stubborn old man. Why does he have to be like this?

"Fine…then I have other questions that need to be answered. Where is your Holy Artifact, your sword," I asked bitterly, not wanting to talk about that any longer.

"I don't know. I lost it," Grandpa said with a shrug.

I sighed in annoyance. "Be honest with me."

"It doesn't matter where it is, but I don't have it anymore."

"Then what happened to you…why were you in Owlkirk, in Syn'nari. Why did your invasion fail?" I asked.

Grandpa chuckled to himself. "Fail? It didn't fail. There wasn't a single person on that beach that could have defeated me. Not even the secretive Spirit Archers of the Wood Elves would have been enough."

Huh? What…

"I have so many questions…let's start with these Spirit Archers? Who are they? I've never heard of them before," I asked.

Grandpa raised an eyebrow. "You are lucky I'm in a talking mood…but fine, I'll tell you more. The Spirit Archers are Elves that have a direct bloodline with the ancient spirits of the forest, or so the legend goes. They hold immense power, being able to imbue powerful magic into their arrows and weapons. It's even stronger than what you were capable of. So imagine my surprise when I saw you mimic their techniques as a boy by chance."

"Okay…so these Elves are secretive…somehow able to hide their power. How do you know they exist, then?" I questioned.

"Whether that's true or not doesn't matter. But they do exist. You have even met one yourself. He was there just to observe me, after all. What was his name…ah… Captain Amberdrew, I believe. And don't underestimate the Holy Kingdom. Our records are far more extensive than anyone else's. And I would never go into battle unaware of an enemy's trump card."

Wait! Captain Amberdew? He was one of these Spirit Archers…I would have never known…

"I thought this world's history was being skewed…why does Arotal have so much information?" I wondered out loud.

Grandpa merely shrugged at my question. "There were many things I was not privy to even as an Exarch. Many secrets were kept from us. I couldn't even tell you the abilities of two of the Exarchs as we were forbidden to even spar against each other."

Withholding valuable information from themselves? At the upper echelons of the country? What is going on over there?

"Okay then, why did you not succeed in your task? I can't imagine a case where someone who is apparently so strong that not even a secret sect of powerful Elves could handle goes into hiding."

Grandpa rolled his eyes. "It's because I surrendered. On the outside, that invasion was for two things. To test our naval landing forces and to retrieve a legendary item from Syn'nari's coffers. But in truth, it was to get rid of me."

"Get rid of you…why? What's the—"

The words got caught in my throat as I looked at Grandpa. I could tell this was a serious thing for him. I could see the betrayal in his eyes. And I understood that all too well because I was once disposed of.

"I'm not sure why they did the things that they did. Before I even realized it, I had been surrounded by inquisitors masquerading as sailors. I cut them all down, along with any who betrayed me, narrowly evading the other two Exarchs who hid on the ship and tried to kill me. Even with their surprise attack, it wasn't enough to end me. I jumped into the water after letting the spear Eaxrch stab me in the stomach. Even though it almost killed me, I figured I would end the invasion myself, so I let the Wood Elves destroy our ships. Thanks to my actions, we were routed, and I surrendered to an elite group in the jungle a few days later. Believe it or not, Cerila's father was the first to find me," Grandpa said fondly.

"Cerila's father was that important, huh? But wait a moment, you almost died? How? Your healing magic is incredible. I don't understand how you would die from a stab to the gut when you can regrow a separated limb. At your peak, you should have been even stronger."

"What you don't know is that all Holy Artifacts cause something called a Stigmata. Wounds that can not be healed easily. Even a small cut from my sword takes great effort to heal, even by someone of my caliber," he explained.

There has to be a reason behind that. A wound that does not heal even with the skills of a Grandmaster light mage?

"Good to know. Remind me not to get stabbed by any Holy Artifacts anytime soon. But I see… that's why you were in Owlkirk. Can I ask you something…is one of the reasons you didn't get involved with Cerila when her family was abusing her because of your past?"

Grandpa smiled bitterly. "Seems you finally pieced it together. It's true. When Cerila's parents passed, her sister must have gone through her father's belongings. She found out about my past and threatened to tell people if I didn't stay away from them. She blamed me for not being able to save her mother and father…despite them already being corpses before I got to them. I had to make a choice…if she had outed me to the world, it wouldn't have just been my job or position. It would have been my life and the life of everyone in Owlkirk, maybe even Syn'nari. My comrades would have come together again to find my Holy Artifact by any means, even if that meant razing a nation to the ground. After all, I narrowly avoided their search the first and second times thanks to Cerila's father."

"I understand. Things are starting to make more sense now…" I mumbled to myself as I began thinking, but Grandpa poked me with the end of his cane.

"Let me tell you something then, Kaladin. I know you may be angry with me, but…I want you to promise me something."

"And what's that?" I asked, confused.

"If you ever run into an Exarch, you are not to fight them. You are to take your loved ones and run. You can not kill even the weakest Exarch on their worst day," he said, his voice stern.

"What? I don't—"

"Whatever you think you know about an Exarch is dangerously wrong. They are not equivalent to a War God like people make them out to be. Unlike the rest of the Human world, the Holy Kingdom does not flaunt the strength of its elites openly. Let me tell you right here and now, not even that Maruader King or anyone on Illyrcium could best an Exarch in combat. Nobody in this kingdom could have defeated me. I was the strongest Exarch in thousands of years, after all," Grandpa said without a hint of grandiose. He believed every word he was saying.

Even King Maxwell would be defeated? I find that hard to believe.

"I thought you just said you weren't allowed to spar Exarchs? How do you know that you were the strongest?" I questioned.

"There's a way to tell, although the margin for error is there…I am an exception," Grandpa said softly.

"Prove it. Show me what makes an Exarch, an Exarch," I said.

Grandpa eyed me a bit and sighed. "Fine…you are too stubborn. Knowing you would rush into battle the moment you saw one. You would never believe me if I didn't show you anyway," he grumbled as he stood up and walked a few paces away.

Grandpa looked down at me from beneath his thick glasses. "So that you know this is hard for an old man. It takes a lot out of me, be grateful you get to witness it and live to tell the tale. Most people who have seen this power have died at my hands. It was something we were only allowed to use in extreme situations."

The old man took in a single deep breath. He stood there with his eyes closed in concentration. And I waited for something to happen with bated breath. I even looked at his blindly bright soul with Soul Sight, but nothing came.

Grandpa let out a long sigh and sat back down on shaky legs. "It seems…I have grown weak…if I called upon my power…I may die, sorry."

"Please, don't be sorry. I would never ask you to do that if it meant you would die," I said in a slight panic.

He just smiled softly at me. "Truth be told, I was afraid I'd never be able to call upon that power again. It seems it was true…well, either way…you can tell by how many wings an Exarch has. I had ten, the most any Exarch that used Hubris has had in recorded history since the legendary hero Tyldiur who defeated the Bloody Emperor."

"Tyldiur? Wings? Wasn't he the first War God…a member of The Six? Was he an Exarch? And wait…there are four Exarchs, and then there is the High Exarch who leads the nation. That's…five weapons," I said to myself.

Grandpa nodded his head and chuckled. "Don't get too hung up on the wings part. If you see a person with wings, just run as far as you can. That's all I ask. But for the weapons, it seems that way, yes. But that's the same conclusion I came to, although I could never confirm it as the other Exarch's power and the true meaning of their weapons were hidden from me. We weren't allowed to know each other's secrets, a way to guarantee that if one Exarch went rogue, they would not be able to make plans for the others. That's why I nearly lost to the spear and the shield Exarchs' ambush."

"But if my sword truly belonged to Tyldiur, then the spear must have belonged to either Grogrem, the Dragonkin warrior, or Glynmaris, the High Elf priest. While the bow belonged to Doctor Djinn, the Dwarven wizard, or Alps, the Human assassin… there is also a shield…you can see my confusion. Things add up but not quite. There is also another Exarch that nobody knows about," Grandpa said with a grave tone.

"A fifth regular Exarch?"

Grandpa nodded. "It was referred to as the Shadow Exarch. Its identity was hidden. It was our monster that hid in our shadows. We never knew who it was or where it could be, and I never found a trace of it ever, no matter how hard I looked. I'm not even sure if the Shadow Exarch was real and not just some story to scare us."

I wonder…could the Chapter of Despair be connected to the Shadow Exarch?

"There's so much I don't know, more than I expected…" I said to myself.

He stood up from his stone chair and wiped his coat off. "Well, I believe this is enough for today. I need to rest for my lessons with Dallin and Mila later."

"Wait before you go. I have just one more question," I said to his retreating back.

"Go ahead."

"Did you ever speak with Amon-Ra…or hear its voice?"

Grandpa stood still but then looked over his shoulder. "Only once. The day I became an Exarch, I heard a voice that I believe to have been Amon-Ra's. Once I grabbed my sword for the first time, he told me that he looked forward to my future. That was all he said, and I never heard his voice again. Apparently, many Exarchs had similar experiences when they awoke to their marks or received their artifacts."

"How did you know it was him?" I asked.

Grandpa looked up to the clear morning sky. "Because I felt as if I was suddenly in the presence of a god. I've never felt that feeling since that day. Even that Dragon Empress didn't instill that kind of emotion in me."

The old man looked down and slowly walked away without another word. I still had many questions to ask him, but all I could do was watch him leave. I felt that if I continued to press him for information, he would start refusing to tell me. There was much I didn't know about the Holy Kingdom.

I'll have to have another conversation with him, just like this one.