Chapter 214: Gil II

Chapter 214: Gil II

Like clockwork, the spearman was there to ward off the killing stroke. Only hed played the support role too well. Effective, but predictable.

Gil roared, gripping the hilt of his massive blade tightly and changing direction at the last second, slamming it into the infernals plate. The banner lieutenants white eyes widened a moment before collision and he braced, lowering his arm, expertly spreading the impact between gauntlet and chest plate, the defused force still enough to send him sliding backward, one hand pressed to the ground to keep from toppling over. The spear skittered to the side, spinning off into the shadows. The infernals primary arm dangled uselessly.

Going back on your terms. I should not be surprised, Sevran observed, speaking for the first time.

What choice did I have? Untreated steel was no longer an option. Your captain made that explicitly clear. Gil smirked, listening as the mongrel behind him struggle to stand. As soon as he heard the mans feet take purchase, he slammed an elbow backward, feeling a rush as hard leather impacted soft flesh. The mongrel toppled, and for the moment at least, did not get up again.

Difficult to believe the armory did not house even one tempered, blunted blade in your preferred configuration.

Speaking of which, where is your captain? King Gil said, observing the infernals reaction. Up in the rafters, perhaps? Lurking on one of those tall shelves near the back?

He isnt here. The mongrel grunted. Somehow, hed stood and moved out of reach, though from the sound of his speech and breathing, his nose was broken. Youre wasting your time.

Hm? Gil hefted his sword, giving it a casual swing. Thats unfortunate. He looked up, feigning sudden remembrance. Come to think of it, youve both spent some time with the princess recently.

Alten did. My experience was limited to witnessing the chaos her illusions wrought.

Tougher than any kid has a right to be. Alten confirmed as he wiped his face on his shoulder. Let alone a princess.

So it seemed. Gil agreed. From the day Annette tore her way out of the queen, she never cried. Punishment and correction never phased her. A complete departure from my older children. At first I thought it nothing, a manifestation of winters blood. He studied his blade with distaste. It took some time to comprehend that it was not merely her sorrow that was muted. And what I had believedperhaps hopedto be strength was little more than masked frailty.

Showing his experience, the infernal had guessed what he was doing, and held his silence. But the mongrel did not.

Because she lacked a warriors fire? Alten asked, his tone flat.

No. Because she held no fire at all. King Gils mouth tightened in disgust. No matter how much knowledge she consumed and technical prowess she attained, theres never been so much as a single drop of passion in her blood. She is a walking husk. And that has always been her way. So when I informed her of the decision, I expected little reaction, if any. He leered into the darkness towards the back of the warehouse, where his heir was undoubtedly hiding. Imagine my surprise when she tried so desperately to change my mind. Begged me to reconsider. Had I been at all unsure in my decision, it would have been solidified in an instant, given the way she wept when I denied her. Perhaps the queen bore an indiscretion. Such a pathetic child could never be mine.

King Gil leaped back, sensing the projectile long before he saw it. Air compressed into the form of an arrow rocketed into the hard ground and rebound, homing towards him. The spell rebound at an angle so fortuitous it had to be intentional and Gil raised a gauntlet to shield his head, absorbing the impact effortlessly.

Sevran dashed for his spear while Alten rushed forward.

Only, Gil wasnt concerned with Alten anymore. He spun, turning to face the figure that landed behind him, marveling at the malevolence and rage.

If you wanted to die so badly, there are easier ways to go about it. Cairn snarled. His mothers eyes were gone, replaced with those of a monsters, one iris glowing blue, the dark pupil it housed a dark slit. The same way hed been at the gravesite. Only now it was harnessed, directed. Terrifying. The potential Gil saw in this version of his son was fathomless.

Now. How to direct it?

Gil frowned as he took a step to the left and trapped the bodyguards sword beneath his armpit, waited for the lull between efforts, and released, driving his elbow into the mans forehead without giving him so much as a glance. The resulting thud of a body hitting the ground confirmed hed struck home, and the king barely heard it.

It would be a decade of battlefield experience and dedicated physical training before Cairn had even the slightest chance of winning such a direct engagement. His magic wasnt enough. The gulf was simply too wide. It went without question that the potential was there. If hed had the same upbringing as Gil himself, there was a good chance Cairn might have already reached the point he wouldnt even need the underlings to eke out a win. But his mother had coddled him. Threatened her own life and that of the child in her belly. For all his grand battles, and strategic victories, and military excellence, it was the one fight Gil had lost.

And now the son shed tried so desperately to protect paid the price.

He spoke, still enraptured by the brutality in his sons gaze. Everything Ive done, Ive done for the good of the kingdom.

A sword answered, singing death, arcing towards his neck. He knocked it away, appreciating that the boy had finally started focusing on more vital targets.

What he didnt see coming was the dagger. Cairn had concealed it well until the last possible moment, flicking his wrist and bringing the lowhil weapon to a forward grip seconds before the blade made purchase. It bit into his chest plate, digging in right beneath the breastbone, and Gil smiled grimly, feeling the daggers tip pierce his underlying skin.

Is that what you said to Annette? To Sera? Cairn growled. In an insane gambit, he dropped his blade and gripped the dagger with both hands, attempting to push it further rather than disengage. Gils eyes widened and gripped the dagger by the blade. The edge cut into his leather-gilded fingers.

Your sisters have always held an overly-inflated view of their own worth. The eldest made a rout inquiry far more difficult than it needed to be. And the youngest? Well. Smart as she is, she really should have seen this coming a long time ago.

Boy. Gil trailed off, his jaw working furiously.

A line of red appeared across Cairns throat. He staggered backward, hands clutching at his neck as crimson gushed through them. The bodyguard and infernal both dashed to his side, attempting to aid.

Keep pressure on the wound. Sevran commanded, We need a healer.

Alten shook his head, doing as instructed, grimacing. No time

Wheres the diplomat? Gil asked, still not able to comprehend what had just happened. One moment he was counseling his son and now Her magic will save him. Where is she?!

Across the damn city. Alten grunted. Stashed for her own safety. The prince believed shed be targeted if she was present.

There was so much blood. With nothing to soak into, it spread across the stone, pooling around the boys head. The din of battle outside swelled, becoming loud, almost unbearable.

Gils hands clenched into fists and turned toward the fortified door and bellowed. STAND DOWN. EVERY FUCKING ONE OF YOU, STAND DOWN.

Though the fighting slowed, it did not stop. That was unacceptable. They heard the command and did not obey. Gils face screwed up in anger, and he cracked his knuckles, preparing to emphasize the order with force.

Something caught his boot. He looked down to see his sons bloody gauntlet, fingers wrapped around his heel. A little to the right of them were words scrawled in blood, short sentences hastily written.

acting on my orders

Sevran too

only chance we had

dont punish them

please

As he absorbed the words, Gil felt the fight go out of him. Unsure what was taking the infernal so long, he bellowed again. Get a healer in here now!

But he knew how pointless it was. With that wound, an entire regiment of healers wouldnt make a difference. His son was already dead.

There were many things he needed to do, matters to attend to. The boy had instilled real loyalty with these men, and they would not take this loss lightly. A mutinous regiment was a great threat to any monarchy, let alone one that existed within the walls of its capital city. So he needed to

He needed to...

What, exactly?

Surely there was something he was overlooking. But even as he thought this, the fog that settled over his mind grew thicker, and he left the bodyguard behind, unbidden long strides carrying him out of the building and into the afternoon sun.

Despite knowing that this would not go unanswered, that he needed to move quickly to stamp out any embers of rebellion that resulted from this debacle before they caught, he felt the exhaustion return. The same persistent feeling of tiredness that had stemmed from his last campaign, long before his sons disappearance on the road from the Everwood.

None of this was supposed to happen.

An indeterminate amount of time later, feet tiring from the march to nowhere, King Gil scoffed. It didnt make sense. The boy had visions of the future so specific he could stop a plague before it happened, citing the exact ingredients. He couldnt see everything, of course. But the gods were notoriously sloppy.

There was a small part of him that wanted to uncover which god, specifically, had failed his son, and find a way to wage a war that reached the heavens. But there was only one person to blame.

King Gil looked down at the blood on his hands.

And found it gone.