Book 5 - Chapter 52 (Patreon)

“Bwa ha ha ha! You said that? You actually said that? Incredible!” Hogg was pacing back and forth inside the Lance’s tent, grinning ear to ear. “This isn’t even my final form! You said that?”

Cid, who’d been listening to Brin’s story with an air of long-suffering acceptance, said, “I believe in this case, his exact words were ‘Very well, Zaff the Wight. You’ve earned this honor: I will unlock my full power.’ The bit about his final form didn’t come until later.”

“No way. No way. I can’t believe you actually did that. And it worked?” Hogg stepped up eagerly, lapping every word up from Brin’s story.

Apparently, Hogg had been heavily involved in guiding the [Mages] and [Illusionists] who’d set up the Great Conduit. The moment the spell had ended, he’d hopped in his carriage and moved to Arcaena as fast as his hard light could take him.

The moment Hogg had arrived, Brin had taken him to the Lance’s tent, set up wards against eavesdropping to which Hogg had added his own, and then unloaded the entire story. He started with the conversation with Arcaena. 

He’d kept the Lance out for that part. Not because he didn’t trust them, but he wanted Hogg’s input on when and to whom they should disclose Arcaena’s secret. Also because he didn’t want them to have to live with the knowledge that every random girl they meet throughout their lives might be a secret Arcaena.

Hogg had brought his two Shadow Construct servants with him, which Brin allowed because they weren’t real people. The new Bedelia was spot on the way Brin had always pictured her, and Jeeves spoiled Marksi with candied grasshoppers. The little dragon seemed completely unaffected by Brin’s story, and he didn’t know if it was because he didn’t understand it or because he didn’t care.

Hogg had taken it all in and then said, “Let me shake that around in my brain for a while.” 

Bedelia, had said, “Like this?” and grabbed Hogg’s head in both hands to try to shake it back and forth while Hogg tried to push her away.

After that, Hogg had insisted that Brin start from the beginning, and detail all his adventures since joining the Lance. Brin had let the Lance know they could join in for this part, and they’d all drifted in as he talked. Hogg had been impressed by their work in Canibri and frowned at all the times the Lance had thrown themselves into danger, especially when Brin described the time they’d tried to catch Angelic.

The story about Zaff, however, had absolutely floored him. Brin continued, talking about fighting with his army of minds, of the spells of light and glass humming through the air, and the game they’d played. It made a pretty fun story, now that it was over. Retelling it now, separated from all the pain and fear, softened the memory in his mind until he could really believe that he was as self-assured as he’d been acting.

When Brin told the part about the Avatar of Glass and how that had finally given Zaff the moment of doubt that had activated the retreat amulet, Hogg laughed so hard that a few tears leaked from his eyes. 

“Incredible. Simply incredible,” Hogg said as Jeeves handed him a handkerchief and he dabbed at his eyes. “That’s got to be the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Hedrek roared with laughter as well, but mostly only because of how Hogg was reacting. “Now I get it, Brin. Now I get why you’re like this.”

Cid shook his head melodramatically. “And here I thought Brin was finally going to face some consequences for his constant risk-taking. I thought he might finally be chastised. Silly me.”

Hogg cleared his throat. “True. That was very poorly done, young man. You never should’ve delivered your Lance to an epic victory against impossible odds. You should’ve run away and left your friends to die.”

“Thank you,” Cid said with a nod.

“And furthermore! Always eat your vegetables.”

“I literally can’t remember the last time I saw a vegetable,” said Brin.

“And have you been brushing your teeth?” asked Hogg.

Brin didn’t answer, because he really hadn’t been.

“That’s what I thought.” Hogg dusted his hands off. “I think that fulfills my parental obligations. Seriously, though. You’ve got to show me what that Zaff fight looked like. You need to learn how to play back your memories on a screen and show me that fight. You record everything, right?”

“I do. At least, I think so. My memories are a bit disorganized at the moment. Aberthol was not careful with my things,” said Brin.

“Right, you probably went crazy for a while after that? Well, can’t say I’m surprised. Every [Illusionist] tries it once. Don’t make it a habit.”

“Oh, admirable chastisement, sir. With words like that, how would he ever dare?” said Cid, completely deadpan which just made the sarcasm ring louder.

“Thank you,” said Hogg with a haughty sniff.

“I was pretty out of it for a couple days,” Brin. “I kept up appearances, but–”

“Oh, no, we could tell,” said Aeron.

“How do I put this,” said Govannon. “You were acting… cool.”

“And nice,” added Cowl.

“And friendly,” said Brych.

“So we knew something was wrong, but we didn’t know how to help,” said Cid.

“And then we were off with Lothar to assault the city. You know he tried to leave us behind?” Rhun said to Hogg.

Hogg raised an eyebrow at Brin. “Really?”

Brin licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, because this was an uncomfortable topic. If the Lance had stayed behind, then Brin would’ve gone invisible and run away. Arnarra wouldn’t have been killed, Lothar would’ve remained a [Paladin] and an unknowing slave, Brin never would’ve learned the truth of Cati and Arcaena, but most importantly, Anwir wouldn’t have died.

He tried to edge the story away from Anwir, but Hogg didn’t let him get away with it. When Brin wasn’t telling it right, he handed the story to Cid, who gave a faithful recounting of Anwir’s heroic, final sacrifice.

The topic stayed on Anwir, as one by one, the men told the truths that they’d been carrying around with them. The guilt of past wrongs, the things left unsaid. They told stories, too, some mundane, some too large to be contained in a single heart, and many that Brin hadn’t heard before. These men had been living an entire life during the times that Cid and he had been called away to meetings or when he’d been up in his own training.

All the while, Hogg guided them into and through their grief. Brin noticed how smoothly he’d handled it. This wasn’t his first time doing this. How many friends had Hogg lost before he’d ended up adventuring alone?

Cid said, “He was brave. Did you know that Sir Derec gave us horses named after the virtues that he thought we were most lacking?”

“I guessed. Who names a horse ‘Generous’?” said Meredydd.

“Maybe that’s how it started, but it isn’t how it ended. I don’t know if I’ve ever known a man with more courage. Sir Anwir the Brave,” said Cid.

“Sir Anwir the Brave,” the men echoed.

They’d needed this, Brin realized. He should’ve been the one to start this conversation; he shouldn’t have waited for Hogg. He’d been so focused on saving thousands of thousands of lives that he’d neglected the nine… eight people he actually cared about.

They talked about Anwir, sometimes drifting into other things, then back to the [Knight of Arrows] again. Eventually, it started to feel more comfortable. The next time, it wouldn’t be so hard to bring him up. From now on, talking about Anwir would be normal.

As the mood grew more casual, Hogg passed out more of the candied grasshoppers. Even Brin ate one, because while he still got grossed out by the idea of eating bugs, how long had it been since he’d eaten something sweet? Marksi darted around trying to steal them from everyone, because he’d assumed they were all supposed to be for him.

The stories came to an abrupt end when Bedelia abruptly tripped Govannon and pushed him straight into Brych, who’d been angling closer and closer to her throughout the day. She pushed Govannon with careful precision, so that his lips slammed straight into those of Brych.

Both men shouted, and made a show of pushing away from each other.

“What... Why did you–?” Brych spluttered.

“That’s what you asked for. Oh, or did you mean with me?” asked Bedelia.

“I don’t… I have no idea what she’s talking about,” said Brych.

Hogg leaned closer to Brin and murmured, “The one thing that surprised me the most is how often she gets hit on.”

Brin chuckled at the scene, but already his mind was going back to the war, and the imminent disaster that had been consuming his thoughts recently.

“And now this alliance is tearing itself to pieces. So what are we going to do about it?” Brin asked.

“Aren’t you already doing it?” Hogg asked.

Brin was. Even during this conversation, he’d been scouring the camps with his Invisible Eyes, using illusion and delusion to put out fires and ward off conflict. “It’s not a solution. We’re barely holding on.”

“I can help,” said Hogg. And so he did.

Hogg joined in with Mirror Men, good ones of hard light who could walk and talk and rub shoulders with people and pick things up in a way that Brin’s Mirror Images couldn’t. His range was lower than Brin’s, so he couldn’t cover all three camps at once, but what he lost in quantity, he made up for in quality.

Hogg had a lot more practice with this sort of thing. The way his Mirror Men acted, the way they fit in everywhere they went so seamlessly, it was a work of art, and it reminded Brin of just how far he had to go. Hogg was a master of the small details, everything was accounted for. HIs spies fit in so well and took such distinct and natural feeling personalities that it was hard for even Brin to remember that they were fakes. When Brin added [Say What’s True] to Hogg’s hard light, the result was overwhelming.

Over the next few days, the conflicts between the three armies slowed, then stopped completely. The commanders raged, but there was nothing they could do to stop their men from getting along. 

They’d started to suspect that an [Illusionist] was involved in altering their men’s outlooks and periodically deployed Eveladis, but those did nothing against Hogg’s constructs of hard light, so Brin and Hogg gave no sign.

Galan invited them to meet together to negotiate with the Order of the Long Sleep as neutral ground, and as the days passed, it began to look like they’d really do it.

[King] Johan still blamed the Order of the Long Sleep for his abduction, but no one else did. While Galan maintained that the fault lied with him as the commander, he couldn’t order his men to tell something they didn’t believe, and everyone had seen Lyssa free Johan on her own and then flee the camp on horseback. Everyone had also seen her tied like a hog and laying on her stomach behind Galan on his saddle a few hours later.

Brin did his best to place the blame firmly with Lyssa whenever he heard it come up among the soldiers, but there weren’t many men talking about it. The rank and file seemed completely oblivious as to the politics of the higher ups. Mostly, they talked about Lothar.

They talked about Lothar's battle against the dragon, which they had all seen in the sky, and the battle against Maggart, which they only knew about from the tales of the [Bards].

Joaoz came to visit Brin one morning, ambushing him in the mess hall and hoping to get the rest of the details of the story that he hadn’t seen from the other side of the Great Conduit. Brin wasn’t about to spill that Lothar had been a secret spy for Arcaena this whole time, and couldn’t be bothered to make up a story to fill its place, so he kept the details vague. Lothar was ambushed by a powerful [Witch]. He sacrificed his Class and levels to save everyone. After that, Joaoz could make up the rest of the details for all Brin cared.

“What is a [Bard] to do with such free license? I say, it’s quite a dilemma. I’ll write a song then, one worthy of noble Lothar. Something fitting for his reputation and his legacy,” Joaoz said.

Brin began to think this was a trap, and said, “Maybe write the song first, and then bring it to me. I can tell you if anything is… is incorrect.”

“I’d be delighted,” said Joaoz, and Brin began to think this was what he wanted in the first place. Now he’d write the song, and if Brin didn’t object to it, he could claim that Brin had verified its accuracy.

Well, that actually fit in with Brin’s plans, too, so he didn’t mind, but he was going to be examining his memories here, trying to detect any Mental Manipulation that had gone unnoticed. That was the problem with these high level [Bards], he might just be working off a lifetime of knowledge and experience. You didn’t actually need to use Mental Manipulation to manipulate someone mentally.

“I’m a bit surprised you didn’t get a level for all that,” said Brin. He’d meant it to change the subject, but realized too late he’d said one of the rudest things it was possible to say to someone.

Joaoz laughed it off. “Oh, it’s no accident I’m not leveling. [Bards] are discouraged from seeking immortality in that way. I’ll live on through my songs. Hopefully, this song most of all. Should Lothar never do another great deed, he’s already lived enough to create a legend that lasts a thousand years.”

As for the man himself, Lothar was starting to move around a little. He went on walks around the Order’s camp, lost in his own mind, but responding to greetings and returning salutes. He ate when he was fed, and now and then Brin found him and Galan walking together, having low, murmured conversations.

Brin heard little of these conversations, and what he did hear was mostly mundane, but one little tidbit stood out from the rest.

“I know the Class that I want. And I know the Class where I could do the most good. And then there’s the Class that’s simply the strongest,” said Lothar.

“A difficult decision, for some, but not for you. You will choose the second,” said Galan.

“All three are the same Class,” said Lothar.

“Then what’s the dilemma?”

“I don’t deserve it. Now that I know who I really am, what I’ve done, how I’ve failed…”

One day, Lothar made his way to the Order’s sparring ground. Brin more or less always had an Invisible Eye on him, out of habit, though he’d never done anything worth noticing. Lothar watched the men train, who immediately started sweating under the legend’s gaze. There were several extra bruises and scrapes as the men became both more nervous and more enthusiastic, but after a half hour without movement, they began to forget he was there and resumed training normally. That all changed when Lothar idly stepped over the racks and picked up a wooden training sword.

Brych noticed first, and burned a [Knight’s Charge] to get to the command tent as quickly as possible. Galan used a [Knight’s Charge] to get back there. He slowed down his pace when he arrived, acting as if he were randomly out on a sudden stroll.

He stepped up next to Lothar and picked up a practice weapon of his own, and then raised an eyebrow. Lothar shrugged in acceptance, and then the two of them squared off.

The whole training ground went hush, and even in the command tent Brin found that he couldn’t pull his attention away. Galan pressed forward first, swinging his weapon down in a slow and obvious arc, perhaps not knowing for sure if Lothar would really fight.

Lothar batted Galan’s weapon away, tapped his breastplate in reprimand, and then stepped back into the guard position.

Galan grinned, saluted, and then waited. Lothar pressed the attack this time, and the two men went back and forth, pushing into a real, authentic match of strength.

Even without his Class, Lothar fought like a leaf on the wind. He moved around the sparring field as if time and distance were no hindrance and gravity itself was only a slight inconvenience. It was much like he’d fought as a [Paladin], only so much smaller. Brin probably had what could be called a second Class based purely on Titles and Achievements, and it was clear that Lothar was the same. If Brin didn’t use his magic, he wasn’t sure if he’d beat Lothar in a fight.

Galan was much more powerful, overwhelmingly so, but he moderated his strength and made a good fight out of it.

By the end, Lothar was smiling. He looked human again, fully present, and maybe even a little bit happy. It was a terrible thing, because it only served to illuminate his sorrow and his pain. It was like shining a light through a stained glass window depicting the holocaust.

Brin had to turn off the Invisible Eye watching the scene to be able to focus on the work at hand. Galan always made time for his friend, and stepped out of the command tent any time Lothar looked more responsive than usual. That left Brin and Hogg to try to guide the Order's stiff, dutiful and uncreative commanders.

Lyssa left a massive void in the command structure. Not because she wasn’t present, but because she was thoroughly cowed. She spoke little, and kept her eyes to the floor. Even when Galan was in the tent, he never looked at her. He would respond to her ideas, but with his eyes fixed to the room at large, and always as if the idea had sprung up out of the void on its own.

The days went on, and the armies were still stalled. The Order still broke up any brewing conflicts, and Lothar still didn’t have a Class. Despite the sparring sessions and the conversations with Galan, the System still kept him as a level 0 nothing.

After a week of stalemate, the three generals finally agreed to conduct negotiations in the Order’s camp. At first they were optimistic, because Prinnash sent Pombe instead of [King] Johan, which meant that the “Let’s just go home” faction was ascendent.

But the meeting came and went, in a closed and warded tent without Brin, and when the men left the negotiations after two short hours, their faces were grim. 

Galan pulled Brin aside. “One way or another, I think this will all be decided at our next meeting tomorrow.”

“How is it looking? What happened in there?” Brin asked.

“Maddox demands full control of the capital. Anything less will challenge their superiority of the channel and the northern seas. Prinnash, of course, will not leave with at least partial control of the capital. Grimwalt tries to mediate, but he won’t let them leave him with nothing,” said Galan.

“And you think tomorrow they’ll be more reasonable?” asked Brin.

“No,” said Galan. “Tomorrow, [King] Johan will join us.”

“Oh.”

Galan nodded. “Take no fear for the future, Brin. Whatever happens, we will do our duty. There is peace in that. But I believe that when things start to happen, they will happen quickly. We may not have time afterwards, to… settle things. Do you think you could talk to him?”

“What?” Brin didn’t know why Galan thought he could walk up and talk to a [King].

“Lothar,” said Galan clarified. “I hope you will speak with Lothar. He’s mentioned that your situation and his are similar in some ways. I was hoping you could help him.”

Brin really didn’t want to do that. At the same time he knew he should. It was like talking about Anwir with the Lance. He should’ve done it first; he shouldn't have needed to wait for someone to make him do it.

“If I do that, will you talk to Lyssa?” Brin said.

Galan folded his arms, unamused.

Brin’s first instinct was to wilt under Galan’s glare, but after a moment he found his spine. Of all people, Brin didn’t deserve to be glared at for this. “Are you asking me to talk to Lothar as a friend or as my superior officer. Because if it’s the latter, then–”

Galan shook his head. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

“Compared to what you’re asking me, forgiving someone you love is easy. It’s the easiest.”

Galan held the glare for a moment, until Brin started to think he’d gone to far, but Galan sighed and said, “I apologize. Though I must reiterate that my relationship with Lyssa is none of your concern. I… I’ll talk to her.”

Brin sighed. “And I’ll talk to Lothar.”

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One more chapter next week, and then book 5 is done. I'll come back after Christmas and write a few chapters of book 6 while Royalroad gets caught up, and then go on my month-long break.