ROTLE- Chapter 191- Power That Is Not Benevolent (Patreon)

They had since left the church. Uncle Tradis had said nothing. Not even a response to his relationship with the church. He had slipped into a state of thought that Elaswit would’ve called sulking if she did not know her uncle.

Uncle Tradis did not sulk. He thought.

They spent the entire journey on foot until they came to an estate’s entrance. Soldiers at the gate had let them in without question the moment Uncle Tradis had shown his royal plaque. It allowed him entrance into any establishment within the territory of the Bandiv kingdom. He had since confiscated hers so his was the authority she worked with.

The manor grounds were much unlike those of the nobles she knew. There were no extravagant shrubbery designs. The grass was cut to even heights and kept low. There were no maids or servants up and about so early in the morning, except a few armed men who were clearly around for security purposes.

She must’ve been looking a little too much because her uncle spoke.

“Valdan allows work in shifts,” he said. “No one works at night except those inside the house itself.”

That was common sense. Everyone knew that. “But its daybreak.”

The sun was already rising into the sky.

Uncle Tradis shrugged. “He’s not as strict with the environs as he is with inside the house.” He paused as they came up on the entrance to the house. “He’s actually not even strict about the inside either.”

The soldiers at the door stood at attention. “Sir.”

“At ease.” He waved them down.

“Are you here for the Lord?” one of them, both wearing helmets so they had no truly distinguishable features, asked.

“Not really,” he said. “Just stopping by.”

The man opened the door, letting them in.

Waving him off once more, Uncle Tradis strolled in. Estabel followed. While he’d said that Valdan wasn’t serious about the inside, too, the place was pristine.

A maid passed them by, curtsying in greeting to Uncle Tradis. For her, she offered a polite nod. That was interesting. A lot of the people in the kingdom had no idea what Uncle Tradis looked like, just the way a lot of people had no idea what Vosket her youngest brother looked like.

Yet they recognized him here and treated her as the secondary personage.

“What do you know about the church?” he asked suddenly, taking her back to a conversation that she thought he had denied at the church.

She shrugged. “They are the church of the gods. They—”

“Not the catechism of faith,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m talking about the things the nobles are up to gossiping about these days. The minds of the people.”

Elaswit paused. She took a breath. “Most people do not like them. They are viewed as…”

“Evil?” her uncle supplied. “I can’t say I’m surprised. It comes with the territory.”

“What territory?”

“Power that is not benevolent.”

Elaswit blinked. She did not understand. Wasn’t it wrong when power was not benevolent. “So, you’re saying that they are wrong for it?”

Her uncle gave her a kind smile. “Power is meant to be benevolent. But not the way people think. Power of the people is meant to bend.”

“But not the gods?”

Uncle Tradis shook his head. “Kings and lords should change how they rule. They should be flexible, depending on the state of their people. What worked two generations ago won’t necessarily work today.”

“Shouldn’t that apply to the church?” Elaswit asked.

Her uncle chuckled. “Why?”

“Because what worked two generations ago won’t necessarily work today.”

“But the gods aren’t people. Their rules aren’t situationally created. Killing a million years ago does not suddenly become good just because the world has become a harsher place to live in. Stealing, too. Religion, Elly, are not the laws of men.”

“But shouldn’t the church be more forgiving if times are harsher and a person is caught stealing?” she asked. “Doesn’t the church teach mercy?”

“It teaches Wrath and judgement, too,” he pointed out. “It also teaches punishment. If you change the punishment to something more lenient because you want to be understanding, then the world will sin more, because they do not fear sin. Not anymore. The church is not of man that it should bend.”

Elaswit blinked. She had never known her uncle to be religious.

“I know that the church has been accused of abusing their powers on multiple occasions,” he continued. “But that is just the sad reality of life. Like most perfect things, religion has been ruined by the insurmountable imperfection that is human flaw. And it is in the nature of human flaw to corrupt the beauty of the gods and religion.”

Her uncle turned to her, looked into her eyes with all seriousness in his face as a maid came down the stairs, undoubtedly approaching them.

“When a priest shows you injustice, Elaswit,” he said very carefully. “Hate the priest, not the church.”

Then he turned abruptly to face the maid with a smile on his face. “Hello. May I call on the lady of the house.”

She curtsied. “My apologies, my Lord. But Lady Melvet is currently away.”

“Oh.” He scratched his head. “I guess I might as well leave a message and take my leave.”

“She did leave a message should you come,” the maid added quickly.

Uncle Tradis’ brows furrowed at that. “What is the message?”

“She said not to worry, and that while Valsin is not where it is supposed to be, it is safe.”

Elaswit had never seen her uncle go pale before. And she had never seen anyone pale as fast as her uncle did.

“FUCK!”

Elaswit stiffened, startled by his outburst. “What’s Valsin?” she asked carefully.

“The [Spear of Valsin],” he grabbed at his hair, thinking, worried, “is the strongest known heroes’ relics.”

“Oh.” It was all she had to say.

Her uncle ran a calming hand through his head and controlled his breathing. He stood up straight and let out a calming breath.

Everywhere was silent once more.

“FUCK!”

…

Aiden Lacheart was just too cute. Melvet could see a sliver of why Valdan liked him.

Right now, with a woman holding a sheathed blade in front of him with plans of going to fight a giant monster, he looked very uncertain. All the confidence was gone, not because it was all bluster, but because he genuinely didn’t know what to do.

“Lady Melvet,” he said very carefully, “please stand down.”

She smiled a little. Now she just felt like she was teasing. Did that make her a bad person? Probably not.

“Lord Lacheart,” she said simply. “I’ll have to get this done somehow.”

“Then, how about we leave it to me.”

“Don’t trust my brother,” Ted called out. “He’s kind of an ass.”

Aiden’s jaw dropped and he looked at Ted. “Really?”

“What?” His brother shrugged. “I didn’t like your plan to begin with. And Elami said Valdan’s physically fine, so there’s that.”

He was right about the last part. Melvet had already confirmed that Valdan was actually in good health. Whatever was keeping him asleep was not physical or particularly life threatening.

“And you’re okay with her going?” Aiden asked his brother, incredulous.

Ted shrugged. “Not really, but better her than you. She looks capable.”

Melvet was liking these brothers. Ted especially. She would’ve believed his words if she wasn’t aware of his familiar hiding in one of the trees. It was either there to protect her or prevent her from leaving. The question was if Aiden was in on it.

Yes. Valdan was actually in safe and interesting hands.

She moved towards Nosrath’s direction and Aiden was in front of her again. He gave her a look, pleading yet scolding.

Melvet sighed. “I guess the only thing left to do is cross blades.” She paused, looked at her sheathed swords. “Or scabbards.”

Aiden’s hand remained on the hilt of his weapon. His wrist was relaxed, Valdan had always said that such a thing was how you knew a true swordsman. Those who wielded the longsword always had relaxed wrists.

The boy had learnt a lot in the short time that he had been here.

“Lady Melvet,” Aiden said very slowly. “We do not have to do this.”

Melvet rolled her eyes. Then she attacked.

Aiden’s sword came up at the last moment, stopping a two handed overhead strike. His eyes widened in shock, as if he had not expected her to be strong.

She raised a brow at that. “Why are you surprised?”

Twirling her sword, she moved into a side slash. Aiden’s weapon moved to intercept. The clacking of scabbards was a gentle companion to the war raging in another part of the forest.

Unwilling to let up, she went through sword strikes. Her feet moved accordingly. She switched positions, shifted her gravity. Every tactic Valdan had shown her was implemented. She feinted, baited him, then struck again and again.

Aiden took the flurry of blows with the same surprised expression. However, as she continued to attack, his expression slowly shifted from surprise to intrigue, then curiosity.

His sword was always fast enough to meet hers. Intercepting each time. Blocking again, and again. He always blocked, never parrying.

Melvet’s eyes narrowed as she thrust for his throat and he was actually forced to parry. It sent her spinning. He took a step in, closing in from her blind side. Without hesitation, she dragged the heel of her foot through the grass. It raised a good amount of sand and sent it flying at his face.

Her spin was complete, her sword was held out in front of her once more, and Aiden had failed to close the distance.

They stood that way for a moment. Aiden just stared at her. There was still curiosity in his eyes, a question he did not want to ask with words.

He lowered his sword, held it out to the side. Then the tapping began.

Valdan had said something about it before, how he had eventually come to find out what the habit was about. Apparently, he was convinced that the young lord’s sword tapping was to the rhythm of something. He assumed it was the heart.

His theory was that Aiden Lacheart somehow figured out the rhythm of his opponent’s heartbeat through the pulse in a person’s neck. The heartbeat, most people did not realize, played a part in a person’s rhythm.

Knowing it and controlling it could win a fight.

With her offhand, she adjusted her cloak, covering her neck properly. The tapping of his sword on the ground did not falter. Perhaps that proved Valdan’s theory to be wrong. Or maybe it only proved that Aiden Lacheart had other rhythms he was tracking.

Or he was just a good actor.

Her eyes darting in the direction of Nosrath once more. Only for a moment.

Aiden was in front of her in the blink of an eye, right in her face. Melvet moved on instinct. Her sword came up in defense. Aiden’s sword did not strike. His hand flashed out instead. It came for her shoulder.

Melvet almost scoffed. The boy was pulling his punches.

Alright then.

She twirled her sheathed sword. The weapon moved with the ambient mana. Aiden’s eyes widened and he pulled his hand back immediately, stepping away.

“You don’t seem interested in truly stopping me, Lord Lacheart,” she said.

“I will agree that you have a way with you,” he returned. “But not enough to let me send you off.”

“And what if I told you that the spear on my back was a hero’s relic? Would that give you more faith in me?”

Recognition crossed Aiden’s eyes, which was surprising because she knew that the king had told none of the summoned about the treasures. According to Valdan, it was because he did not want them focusing their attention on shortcuts to power. He wanted them to believe that the only power they could have was the one they created within themselves.

The recognition disappeared just as quickly as it came.

Aiden kept a straight face. That surprised her. She had expected some kind of statement that would misdirect her, lead her to thinking he did not know what she was talking about. Valdan said that he did that a lot. Aiden Lacheart lied with both his words and his body.

The only reason Valdan never held it against him was because he only did it to hide the fact that he knew what he was not supposed to know. It was never done to harm someone, unless it was in a fight.

The boy had so much potential to be someone great.

“Valdan has taught you well,” Aiden said after a while. “But teachings and whatever a hero relic is aside, I cannot let you pass.”

Melvet chuckled internally. There it was. At this point, misdirection was probably a habit for him, something that he could not control. Valdan said that in that and that alone, Aiden Lacheart remained a child. His problem was that he expected others to not know better.

He thought he was the smartest in the room. Often times he was, but mostly, he was just the most informed.

Melvet switched her sword stance. She held her sword in a single hand grip. Lowered her stance.

Aiden’s eyes took her in. They did not focus on the sword or her stance. Somehow, he had the eyes of someone who had been fighting for so many years. He watched all of her, kept her in line as a single united entity.

Melvet was impressed.

“Alright,” he said abruptly, then held his sword in front of him with two hands. “That’s enough of this.”

Melvet grinned. It sounded like he was talking to himself not her. It was vaguely familiar, reminding her of when she’d met Valdan. She’d teased him for almost forever, and he’d allowed her. Until one day he’d just said it was enough. She’d thought he was talking to her, it turned out he was telling himself that he was done enjoying being teased.

It seemed Aiden Lacheart wanted to end whatever this was.

The boy was fun.

Without any other words, sword held in hand, Aiden began walking forward. His steps were simple, practiced. But there was something off about them.

Melvet’s eyes searched. Aiden was underestimating her, so whatever he was hiding in his steps was actually in plain sight. She found it quickly. It was a little insulting to discover what it was.

Aiden Lacheart’s footsteps had gone back to the basics, completely. She recognized them from when Valdan was teaching her to hold a sword.

Alright then. If he wanted to be smart, she would be smart too.

Melvet darted forward in between his steps, just before his feet hit the ground. The problem with strict adherence to the basics was that the rhythm could be cut off by someone who knew what they were doing.

Her sword leapt out for his eyes, and upward slash. Aiden leaned back away from it, allowed it to skim past his face. That she had put enough force in it to make the strike lethal did not faze him.

Melvet spun into the swing, baiting him with an exposed back for a moment. Then she followed up with another spin. Her sword shot out and this time Aiden parried it. He sent the sword skewing up and away, surprising Melvet with his precision. It was a basic parry, but it was so elegant, so precise.

Valdan would’ve loved it.

Aiden stepped forward now that her sword was out of the way. It was a simple forward step, the soul of the basics. But it was taken at the right time, almost a perfect action in perfect rhythm. He brought his sword down in simple forward motion. A downward cut with both hands.

Melvet pulled her sword back quickly. She parried the blow instead of simply blocking it. She was faced, not just with simplicity, but perfect simplicity. And if the simplest of things when deadly when perfected.

Aiden followed up with a simple side slash, his forward steps never faltering never stopping, each step casual but precise. Melvet tried to parry, taking a step back, and ended up only blocking.

Aiden swung again, stepping forward. And again. Each swing as tempered and calm as the one before it and the one after it.

They came without hurry or hesitation.

Left.

Up.

Right.

Up.

Down.

Each strike was basic, simple. Each swing was powerful. It was beginning to feel eerily familiar. As if he was no longer stopping her but teaching her, testing her. It was as if he was reminding her of the basics and just how powerful they were without all the flair of advancement.

But there were some levels of advancements to it. Melvet could feel it in each blow she parried and blocked and evaded. Killing intent. It was not an actual tangible thing. It was just something you felt, like a person’s love when you looked in their eyes or their hate.

Each swing was designed to kill.

But as much as she wanted to think he was done underestimating her, she could see the crack in his killing intent. It was not designed for her. Aiden Lacheart, hilariously enough, was trying to kill her hold on her sword.

He had reinterpreted the whole thing so that his opponent was her sword. He was aiming to disarm her.

She could get out of this with a simple use of her skill. But what if that was what he was waiting for?

Her gaze searched his as she ducked a swing that would’ve taken her neck. There was nothing in his eyes, nothing but the simple calm waters of the intent to disarm her. Nothing else.

He would strike until he needed to strike no more.

Dangerous.

It was the only word she had to describe Aiden Lacheart at so young an age.

Off to the side, someone said something. It was probably Ted. It was most definitely the the brother. But Melvet could not afford to take her attention off of Aiden, not unless she intended to go all out on the boy.

Ignoring the voice, she deflected another blow, shifted her center of gravity, and moved to go around Aiden. Aiden’s legs moved, his footsteps covered. In the blink of an eye, she was cornered again.

He stood in between her and the direction of Nosrath once more.

But she was no longer going for Nosrath. No. The monster had lost her interest. Now, she wanted to beat Aiden Lacheart at his own game. Valdan would not lose to this, so she was determined to be equal to the man she loved.

At least on this.

She would not embarrass her beloved.

Her sword came low and to the side. She brought it up to meet Aiden’s diagonal slash. Both sheaths clacked as each weapon moved away. If Aiden was surprised, he did not show it.

His sword moved again.

She moved hers again.

They fell into sync. For every blow, she had an equal match. He sent hers astray as easily as she sent his.

They were matched, keeping pace. His steps no longer moved her back. He no longer stepped forward. The moved in place, circling each other with every strike. No one retreated. They were not allowed to.

Their swords did all the talking. Valdan said it was possible to understand a person by clashing blades with them over an extended period of time, regardless of their intent.

She understood Aiden Lacheart now. His sword was talking for him. She knew what he was.

Aiden Lacheart was an anomaly, even to himself.

Aiden Lacheart was a lie.

That was all she needed to know.

Both swords came up once more, each at the same time. Then they came down. Melvet switched her stance at the last second, striking at Aiden not his weapon.

In this moment, it was anyone’s victory.

Her sword did not strike Aiden. It did not complete its path.

Just like Aiden’s, it stopped mid strike.

“That’s enough,” Valdan said.