“It was an assassination attempt," Boldwick strode around the room, his eyes bright as he looked at the Grandmaster.
“Seems a good conjecture. I've come to the same conclusion with what we know about the priests and the situation.” Grandmaster Oak sighed as he stared at the report in front of him.
Boldwick knew that the Grandmaster wasn't really a fan of reading these sorts of things. After all, he'd personally overseen what had happened, then interceded to stop the lethal fight that had escalated in mere seconds from a normal contest to a sudden bid for survival, with his student at the core of it.
Boldwick wasn't so certain. "He expended his whole life force in seconds, trying to kill Erec," Boldwick said. "It’s not just a conjecture. It was an assassination attempt.”
"That he did, and he paid for the attempt with his life," Grandmaster Oak agreed.
They had run a detailed analysis of the body afterward, finding that everything in it had rapidly burned out as a sudden power had come from somewhere else. Oddly, this reminded Boldwick of Erec's power, both from the silver flames compared to those bronze ones, and the toll it took Erec after using his silver fires.
The two had also reacted violently against one another, leaving lingering traces of odd mana around the scene.
But the key difference was that the red-wearing man, who had been so covertly hostile, had paid a price for his power. His whole body burned up in a conflagration even as he used his bronze flames. In mere seconds, he had been reduced from a person to a charred skeleton, which had kept going for a little bit longer out of spite, burning itself out in the Grandmaster's barrier.
"This is the Church’s first thrust, plain as day.” Boldwick crossed his arms, still feeling heated.
An outside force working with the priests inward, even as the priests openly decried all outsiders, was in itself a certain type of hypocrisy that got Boldwick's blood boiling. But the fact that they had gone for a student made him even angrier.
"Who cares? Expel them from the walls. We have enough reasonable suspicion that they’ll try other untoward attempts during the tournament. Leaving them in is like leaving a lit fuse in the middle of the games.”
"I thought as much, too," the Grandmaster confirmed. "But the Crown has other designs. You know their aim. If they’re going to act so blatantly, the King is content to see them do so. For now, the public will perceive this event as the man had a grudge." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ NoveI[F]ire.net
"A grudge," Boldwick said. "A grudge against my student whom he'd never met before? Or against the Knights?"
“Either way, we're going to say that they had used some technique which tapped into their life to gain a strength boost and a sudden bout to take vengeance upon Erec. Or, that’s what the people are already saying as we’ve released key details. I’m sorry, lad. I know this isn’t how you want it to go. Neither do I. But pieces are still falling in place,” The Grandmaster sighed, patting his stomach and reclining in his chair.
"This is bullshit," Boldwick replied, his chest puffing up as the Grandmaster shook his head.
"Aye, don't I know it? Were it my way, we would kick many of them out and then kick those red-wearing bastards out for daring to do this, and be done with it. It's just the motivation," the Grandmaster admitted. "That's the part I'm struggling with."
The motivation? “You’ve heard what Erec told me about his mother, and what she said. Who the priests are and who they worship. Not only that, but he’s a source of influence for the Crown itself—a beacon that anyone can elevate themselves as long as they work for the Kingdom.” Boldwick shook his head and frowned.
Not that he’d tell Erec any of the second bit. Goddess knew that the boy already had a big enough head with all the fighting he'd done. Jamming anything in there about public perception and the way that others saw him as a status symbol, other than what he was exposed to by running his cavern, was unnecessary.
The Grandmaster hummed and shook his head. “No, it's about the false goddess. Why does she hate so much? How strong is her influence? Was that her power? We still have many unanswered questions."
Boldwick pulled back and took a deep breath, taking in the Grandmaster’s office. Casks brewing alcohol lined one corner, while a large tree grew from a patch of soil in the middle of the room. The rest of the space resembled a cross between a workshop, a cave, and an office, with rocks scattered across desks and half-finished projects everywhere. All in all, it was a rather messy office for someone so highly held within the organization as the leader of the Verdant Oak.
Boldwick calmed himself down, then took a seat.
"If it helps, I know it doesn't feel good leaving another student of yours in danger after everything," he said, shaking his head. "But we're watching now. We have eyes on Erec. There won't be a second for these red-robed ones to go for him. And if they make any overt moves outside of the tournament, then the Crown will have justification for a response."
"That's what they're looking for," Boldwick said plainly. "Justification for a response."
With this, Grandmaster Oak got up, grabbed a mug, and then went to his casks in the corner of the room and poured out some of his homebrew, bringing it back and setting it in front of Boldwick.
"Ya, that's their aim," he said. "The Crown is waiting for something to set off. And I don't think we'll have to wait much longer if they're growing bold enough to attack one of our Knights in the middle of a tournament."
Boldwick shook his head. "So it's come to this, then."
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"Aye, so it's come to this. And all we can do is listen, work, and drink. When the time is right and the war erupts, then ya can use this anger. Bring it on their heads, like they deserve.”
With that, he raised his mug and then downed it in a second. Boldwick stared at it for a long minute and then pushed it away, standing up and looking at the Grandmaster.
"If this is how it must be, then excuse me. While I trust the Crown, I'm going to make my own preparations to ensure the safety of my students."
"Do as you will," the Grandmaster nodded. "I don't envy your position. And ya know I’m set to protect my knights. Rest assured, Sir Boldwick, that I do not intend to put Erec in any more danger than we've already seen. Try as we might, we can’t watch over the people all hours of the day. And, if we do, they'll condemn us for not giving them the freedom that they desire. Still, I know you're going to talk to him anyway and try.”
Boldwick gave a firm nod. Though he wasn’t happy with this, it was the nature of their relationship to the Crown.
The Grandmaster drummed his fingers on the table, then poured Boldwick’s unwanted ale into his mug. “Let the lads know that the judges found Erec's team would have won the tournament, at least convincingly enough, before the man went for the kill. A couple of choice participants from the losing team will be allowed to move forward. Including Garin.” He dug into his desk and pulled out an investigation report, this one with some redacted information about the priests. And pushed it forward.
Boldwick stared. Would that he could have Erec withdraw immediately and be placed somewhere safely, but that had never been that one's way; doing so would go against everything that made his Initiate who he was.
Boldwick sighed, took the paper, and then looked at the Grandmaster. "I will let them know," he confirmed, and then left the office.
— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —
"So, he tried to kill you," Enide said. She sat on Erec's bed, massaging his back as he went through the results of his first match in the tournament.
After the fight, there had been a brief intermission as the council convened. Just a couple of minutes ago, he'd been called to Boldwick's office and told that his team had technically won the match that had been called off. The good news was that he’d be moving forward to the next round. The bad news was that Boldwick wasn’t happy with that at all.
Still, he gave Erec permission to participate in the matches and told him to be cautious. He also said that Erec should limit his time outside of the academy, as things were starting to grow hostile.
"Yes, he tried to kill me," Erec said. The feeling of Enide's fingers working deep within his muscles was a welcome relief after such a stressful day.
The fight itself had been glorious. An unexpected edge of lethality that suddenly drew him out and brought him to a whole other level that he hadn't expected to go to today was, frankly, wonderful. But the resulting fallout of it and the implications, as he had once more settled back into a rational thinking mind not clouded by the silver fire and fury, was terrifying. Someone had tried to kill him. And he suspected he knew why. And now, as he looked at any of the red-wearing contestants in the rest of the tournament, he felt a distinct impression that it was bound to happen again.
"Who’d you piss off?" Enide asked.
“To be honest, someone way above my league. And I didn’t even do anything explicitly to make them pissed. They just hate my guts,” Erec concluded. His mother had warned him… And this was the other shoe dropping.
The only assumption he could take away from it was that the priests and the ones wearing chains were related.
She let out a laugh and shook her head as she pressed deeper into his back, working his muscles with another bound of energy. "Well, no matter who's trying to kill you, I suspect you'll probably come out ahead nine out of ten times, right? You know, just do me a favor, hero, and don't go and get yourself killed."
"You've got it," he promised her, then sighed. "Boldwick said I should stay here for the next few weeks. Only going to the tournament with an escort? I think it's kind of overkill. Honestly, I already feel cramped up." He wasn't one for staying in a small building for very long, not since leaving the caverns where he had been crammed in small houses and with tons of rock above his head every day.
Since gaining his freedom as a Knight, the feeling of walking around with the wide-open skies above was one of relief. Not to mention, it got him away from all the people in the Academy.
Now, to have that suddenly stripped away by a crazed, mask-wearing, red-wearing man who had tried to kill him in the middle of a tournament, well, it wasn’t very pleasant.
Enide kept up the massage, letting him sink into the feeling, his mind and tension unwinding in the silence. Her practiced touch brought welcome relief after such a harsh battle that had unintentionally strained him. The fact that his Armor was even now beat up and required repairs before the next day made him feel a lot of tension and anxiety. Knowing that a target was on his back, of all people, was just downright frustrating.
Enide shook her head. "You know, those red priests and those people wearing red..." She let that drop. It was an obvious connection. The red priests had been behaving weirdly around him for days, if not ages, since he'd first gotten his silver fire, but it only escalated now with outright stares whenever he went by.
“That is why. But it’s not out there; the priests say they hate outsiders. But it’s obvious now they’re related.” His gut had already told him why. And he knew that red priests existed outside of the kingdom; he'd seen them in Vega, meaning that the religion was wider spread than those in the kingdom believed it to be. Even though they decried outsiders, they had brethren outside of their walls, all worshiping the same goddess, the false goddess, the one that he knew.
Their Goddess would keep sending them after him. Now that they had him… It was only a matter of time before they kept escalating, which trapped him in the Academy. His bunker.
Erec hung his head. "The church is trying to kill me," he said simply.
"What?" Enide gasped.
"Yep. It seems that they know who I am, and now they're trying to kill me," Erec said, his mind churning over all of the various priests, all of the nobles, all of the people in the kingdom who held their words as holy law. All of those people would follow directives from a mad woman who scorned him and had now set her sights on killing him.
He'd felt that the power coming from that red-chained man was beyond his own. Now he could see that the bronze fire—not too dissimilar to his own power—was actually the power of their false Goddess.
Erec swore and then stood up, rolling his shoulders. The reason he was trapped in this room, trapped in his dormitory for the next two weeks, was because of some crazed woman who thought herself a divinity and was manipulating all of these people. Although now that he knew that information, he didn't know how to fight back against it.
All Erec could do was look at the ceiling and think. Things were already going wrong. Things were already crashing. A slight would only advance the collapse of society as he knew it. This Kingdom was teetering on the edge, and in the light of the Tournament he'd lost sight of how close they were.
Any day, war could erupt.
He'd been preparing for this; he'd been on the edge of it for months, and now they were nearing the precipice of that moment. With him, he realized, was a focal point that would draw the coming conflict. Was his role as a catalyst to spark the fire?
He thought about the tournament and his place in it and then sighed. "Things are going to get bad, Enide,” he admitted to her.
She stopped and then hugged him, burying her face in his back. “Sure, but we’ll get through it together if it does. Do what you must, and I’ll always have your back, hero.” Erec let the embrace linger, taking deep, calming breaths.
In the next couple of days, he’d see the next game for the tournament. Waiting for the fires to start to burn up the Kingdom itself.