While the squad members were diligently catching fish in the clear, flowing stream, Gabriel, with an air of casual preparedness, reached into his pack.
He pulled out a selection of dried herbs, presenting them with a modest shrug.
What he’d managed to bring, he explained, was a small collection of powdered orange peel, aromatic rosemary, and bright lemongrass.
He suggested that these would be an excellent addition, perfect for sprinkling over the fish once they were roasted, to enhance their flavor.
“We’ll have a wonderful feast in the forest,” Blayden remarked, his voice a low hum of approval.
He then set about the task of starting a fire, expertly using flint and steel to coax a flame from a pile of kindling.
As the small fire began to take hold, a pleasant aroma of fresh herbs mingled with the crackling wood, and Blayden found himself imagining that the sweet, earthy scent, along with the cleansing heat of the flames, seemed to wash away the lingering smell of blood that clung to him from recent battles.
It was a subtle, almost imperceptible relief.
When the pile of branches had fully caught fire, burning steadily with a warm glow, Gabriel quietly approached Blayden and settled down beside him.
The air around them was filled with the soft sounds of the forest and the distant splashing from the stream where the others were fishing.
“Captain,” Gabriel began, his voice lowered, a hint of concern in his tone, “do you think Leni believes our lie?”
Blayden, without looking away from the dancing flames, responded, “What do you think?”
He wasn’t just deflecting; he genuinely wanted to gauge Gabriel’s perception.
“I think you’re testing Leni,” Gabriel replied, his voice firm with conviction.
He paused, then elaborated, his gaze fixed on Blayden’s profile.
“Yes. If Leni is clever enough to doubt our actions today, you’ll accept her into the squad. Am I wrong?”
Blayden said nothing.
His gaze remained fixed on the fire, but his mind was far away, wrestling with a complex internal debate.
What do I want?
The question echoed in his thoughts.
If Leni was indeed clever, she would undoubtedly be useful to the squad.
Her unique abilities, whatever they were, could prove invaluable.
But then another thought, colder and more unsettling, crept in: If I keep her by my side because she’s useful, Leni will be in danger.
The harsh realities of his life, the constant threats and battles, would inevitably engulf her.
His heart swayed like a broken scale, torn between practicality and a strange, unfamiliar protectiveness.
Leni’s path was fundamentally different from his own.
She was someone who clearly yearned for a life of love and normalcy, not one consumed by the brutal, relentless demands of war.
Her cut hair, a stark reminder of her recent ordeal, would grow back quickly, he reasoned, and before this spring was even over, she would likely forget him, forget this brief, tumultuous chapter of her life.
She barely even remembered him properly anyway, he thought, a touch of melancholy seeping into his reflection.
He was just a fleeting figure in her terrifying new reality.
The flames, fueled by the dry branches, devoured their fuel, growing fiercer, casting dancing shadows on their faces.
Blayden stared into the red, flickering fire, his lips tightly sealed, a silent battle raging within him.
Perhaps what he had desperately tried to strike down, to sever, when he had cut Leni’s hair, was not just the physical manifestation of her past, but his own distracting thoughts.
It must have been his doubts and his growing delusions, the unwelcome stirrings of emotions he couldn’t afford.
He didn’t want to recall the traumatic past that haunted him, nor did he want to question the perilous present that demanded his absolute focus.
He had lives to be responsible for, a burden that weighed heavily on his shoulders.
He simply couldn’t afford emotional luxuries, not when so much was at stake.
He dared not even dream of happiness until he had truly saved those who suffered, until his duty was fully discharged.
Gabriel, sensing the heavy silence, and perhaps embarrassed by his own earlier presumptions, spoke again, his voice apologetic.
“I suppose I’ve overstepped. Please forgive me.”
Blayden shook his head lightly, a subtle gesture of dismissal and understanding.
He then reached out and placed a hand on Gabriel’s head, a rare display of affection.
After patting his glossy brown hair gently and withdrawing his hand, Gabriel’s cheeks flushed a delicate rose, and a soft, genuine smile blossomed on his face.
It was clear he valued Blayden’s approval immensely.
Seeing Blayden’s expression also soften, a brief relaxation of his usual stoicism, Gabriel felt encouraged to speak again.
“By the way, Captain,” he began, his tone shifting to one of concern, “if you leave that wound on your cheek, it looks like it will scar.”
“If it scars, it scars,” Blayden replied, his voice gruff, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand.
He was accustomed to scars, they were simply badges of his profession.
“Don’t do that; I’ll make you an ointment, so put it on.”
Gabriel persisted, his worry unwavering.
“No thanks. It’s too much trouble, what ointment?”
Blayden chuckled softly, a rare sound.
But Gabriel’s worried gaze didn’t waver; his expression remained fixed on the wound.
“You’ll say it doesn’t hurt this time either, won’t you?”
Gabriel said, almost a statement rather than a question.
“It really doesn’t hurt,” Blayden insisted, his voice even.
“Pain is the body’s message to the mind,” Gabriel lectured gently, his voice taking on a more serious tone.
“It’s a signal to pay attention so the condition doesn’t worsen; listen to it.”
He spoke with the quiet conviction of someone who truly understood the intricacies of the human body and spirit.
“Are you taking advantage of us being alone to nag me?”
Blayden grumbled on purpose, a playful edge to his voice, attempting to lighten the mood.
He then skillfully changed the subject.
“Stop worrying about me and tell me about William. Is he still having nightmares these days?”
“Yes. It seemed to worsen on the way back from Werden,” Gabriel confirmed, his expression clouding over with concern for their comrade.
“I prescribed medication to help him sleep. I also gave him dried oregano.”
“Good job,” Blayden commended, his voice acknowledging Gabriel’s thoughtful care.
“But Captain, there’s a name Master William calls out when he’s afflicted by sleep paralysis.”
Gabriel hesitated, glancing around, as if to ensure no one else was within earshot.
“Oh? Whose name is it?”
Blayden prompted, his curiosity piqued.
Gabriel lowered his voice, speaking barely above a whisper.
“King Odin.”
At the mention of that name, Blayden’s heart grew cold, a sudden, chilling sensation that pierced through him.
It felt like a sharp knife had split his heart, a painful jolt of memory and a resurgence of an old, deep wound.
“Since Master William is a Chiabek and was a sword-maker sponsored by King Odin, I’m afraid some people might suspect him.”
Gabriel continued, misinterpreting Blayden’s grim expression.
He believed Blayden’s reaction was one of concern for William’s loyalty, a fear that others might view him as a traitor.
In truth, the pain William carried wasn’t merely loyalty to a dethroned king; it was a far more profound and tragic burden.
After Equillium had ruthlessly conquered Chiabek, all of King Odin’s close associates had been systematically either cast out from their positions or brutally purged.
William was one of them, a survivor of that terrible purge.
William Tauper, a master sword-maker who had once run the largest and most renowned forge in Klaville, had seen his esteemed business cruelly taken away and was subsequently exiled from his homeland.
At that time, he already had no family, no kin to soften the blow of his banishment.
William, stripped of everything, was forced into the grim profession of an executioner simply to make a living.
He lived a life that, while offering a good income, subjected him to the constant, crushing disdain of the public.
He survived each day with hollow eyes that seemed to say, “I don’t care,” a profound emptiness reflecting his despair.
William’s luck, or perhaps fate, took an unexpected turn five years ago.
When Tigrinu, ever ambitious, began preparing for his grand war of conquest, he actively sought out skilled weapon makers.
It was then, through the recommendation of traitorous Chiabek nobles who had pledged allegiance to Tigrinu, that William was introduced to the palace and brought into Tigrinu’s service.
However, William, with a quiet defiance, refused all the lucrative rewards and generous promises offered by the king.
Instead, he set one single, non-negotiable condition: to be assigned directly to Blayden Rehart’s unit.
Tigrinu, ever the cunning strategist, saw an opportunity when sending William under Blayden’s command.
Since Blayden was a high-ranking appointee of the king, Tigrinu shrewdly demanded that Blayden’s direct subordinates also swear a personal oath of loyalty to the king himself.
This strategic move, binding Blayden’s trusted men directly to the crown, was the very origin of the formidable Kinolph unit.
Blayden knew why William wanted to be by his side.
Or rather, he thought he knew.
He believed it was a shared burden, a commonality in their experiences of loss and defiance.
But as the years together grew longer, as they faced countless battles and shared countless hardships, certainty gradually turned into gnawing doubt.
What was William Tauper’s real reason for following him?
The question nagged at Blayden, a persistent whisper in his mind.
Was William a comrade-in-arms, a fellow warrior bound by shared purpose, or was he, in some unspoken way, an enemy, a lingering shadow from the past that Blayden was unknowingly harboring?
Gabriel’s voice, hesitant at first, broke Blayden’s deep reverie.
“And there’s something else he calls out…”
Blayden urged him to answer with his gaze, a silent command for him to continue.
“Taro,” Gabriel finally said, the name soft and almost mournful.
“Taro?”
Blayden repeated, the name unfamiliar in this context.
“Yes.”
Gabriel nodded, his expression filled with a profound regret.
“Before… that is… when he was struggling in life, in those truly agonizing times, he dabbled in gambling, so perhaps he’s thinking of the Tarot cards he used back then?”
Gabriel offered the explanation, his voice filled with sympathy for William’s past suffering.
Ah, William.
Are you still suffering every night?
The thought resonated deeply with Blayden, a pang of understanding and sorrow.
Indeed, wishing for you to no longer be in pain is my own selfishness, he concluded, acknowledging the complex interplay of his own emotions and William’s deep-seated anguish.
“Gabriel.”
Blayden’s voice was low, a quiet command.
He glanced towards the stream, where the boisterous voices of the squad members could still be heard, a testament to their successful hunt. He made sure their conversation remained private.
***
“The nightmares… pretend you don’t know about them unless William asks for help himself. And don’t tell the other squad members.”
Blayden’s voice was firm, a direct order. The secret, he knew, had to be protected.
“Of course. I only report to you, Captain. You need to know everything, good and bad.”
Gabriel’s loyalty was unwavering, his commitment absolute.
“Right. You’ve told me, now forget it.”
Blayden’s directive was clear: acknowledge the burden, then release it.
“Is it better to forget?”
Gabriel asked, his beautiful eyes, usually so bright, now clouded with a deep question.
He looked at Blayden, seeking not just permission, but understanding.
Blayden met his gaze, his own eyes serious.
“Do you remember the oath you took when you enlisted in Kinolph?”
“Yes. To believe in today’s sun and my comrades.”
Gabriel recited the words, the core tenet of their unit.
“Exactly. Nothing else matters besides that.”
Blayden’s words were a stark reminder, a simplification of their complex lives to the bare essentials: present duty, mutual trust.
Gabriel’s face reddened, and he lowered his head, a blush creeping up his neck.
“You said you wouldn’t care what we did in the past, Captain. I was thoughtless. I was just worried about Master William, but I’ve broken my oath. Considering what I did before coming under your command, it’s not right for me to expose others’ flaws.”
He was chastising himself, a profound sense of self-awareness in his words.
It’s not your fault.
Blayden wanted to say the words, to reassure Gabriel, to alleviate his self-blame.
He hesitated, about to pat Gabriel’s shoulder, a gesture of comfort he rarely offered.
His hand tensed in the air, then clenched, his fingers curling into a fist.
The moment passed.
In the end, he said nothing and withdrew his hand.
It was a hand stained with too much blood, a lifetime of grim deeds.
And he, Blayden knew with a chilling certainty, had no right to forgive the sins of others.
His own soul was too burdened for such absolution.
***
While Blayden and Gabriel were engaged in their serious, hushed conversation by the crackling fire, the fish hunt by the stream was in full, boisterous swing.
Lentz and William, working with practiced efficiency, expertly speared swimming fish with their wooden spears, their movements swift and precise.
Sharino, ever resourceful, had ingeniously used a net woven from a hairnet to trap and pull out the smaller fish, bringing them to shore with a triumphant grin.
But what truly impressed and delighted the squad members, what caused their murmurs of admiration to turn into outright cheers, was Leni.
She moved with an unexpected grace, deftly catching wriggling fish with her bare hands, no tools needed, her movements quick and agile.
Gustav, utterly enchanted by her prowess, kept whistling in continuous awe.
“You’re enchanting the fish, Leni!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine amazement.
Encouraged by the unexpected compliment, Leni worked diligently, a renewed energy in her movements.
Soon, a large pile of glistening fish had accumulated by the stream, a testament to her surprising skill.
Sharino, approaching her, gently bumped her shoulder with his own, a playful camaraderie in his gesture, and asked,
“You trembled, saying you couldn’t sew, but your handiwork is extraordinary. What’s your secret?”
He was genuinely curious, impressed by her effortless ability.
“There’s no secret. They just get caught,” Leni replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but a small, irrepressible smile was spreading across her lips, betraying her quiet pride.
“Isn’t Leni doing magic like Gustav?”
William remarked, observing the scene with a thoughtful gaze.
At his words, Gustav winked at Leni, a conspiratorial gesture.
“The spirit of the water must really like you,” Gustav declared, his voice imbued with his usual playful mysticism.
“It’s generously bestowing fish so we can eat our fill tonight.”
He was clearly enjoying the whimsical explanation.
The idea of being favored by the water spirit, such a romantic and beautiful expression, brought a wide, joyful smile to Leni’s face.
She felt a warmth spread through her, a rare moment of simple happiness.
But when she looked back down at the stream, her smile froze, her eyes widening in sudden alarm.
Her hand, submerged in the cool water, was shimmering.
Her fingers, which had just moments before been ordinary, now appeared transparent like glass, turning oddly limp, as if their very substance had dissolved.
And then, from her fingertips, tiny, round balls of light began to bloom, glowing softly like nascent flower buds.
To Leni’s utter astonishment, the surrounding fish, as if drawn by an invisible, irresistible force, began to gather towards the bud-like light.
No, not just gather, she realized with a growing sense of dread—they rushed towards it, as if it were the most enticing bait they had ever seen, a mesmerizing allure.
My hand was the bait.
The terrifying realization hit her with the force of a physical blow.
What kind of trick is this?
A profound fear, cold and sharp, pierced through her.
Frightened that someone might see, might witness this impossible phenomenon, Leni quickly clenched her hand into a tight fist, desperate to conceal what was happening.
Carefully, she unfurled her fingers, wrapped in the cool water, and to her immense relief, the mysterious light was gone.
But instead of feeling relieved, her fear deepened, turning into a chilling dread.
“I’ll go over there!”
Leni deliberately shouted loudly, her voice a little too high, a desperate attempt to create a plausible excuse for her sudden movement.
She quickly moved along the stream, putting some distance between herself and the others.
Once out of the immediate sight of the squad members, she squatted down, her heart pounding, and cautiously dipped her hand back into the water.
Her hand, beneath the surface, immediately transformed, turning like a gray, spectral shadow, and then, as before, it shimmered, enveloped by a myriad of tiny, glowing light clusters.
Small trout, drawn by the luminous anomaly, swarmed towards her hand in a frenzied mass.
Leni gasped, startled by their sudden, desperate approach, and instinctively pulled her hand from the water.
As water droplets splashed in every direction, she stared in horrified disbelief.
In the very spot where her hand had been, five silver trout floated belly-up, their bodies eerily still, their life seemingly drained away without a struggle.
As if caught in an unseen, invisible snare, the fish spun gently in place, though still technically alive, caught in a suspended state of death.Oh, my God.
Leni looked down at her hand, now trembling, as if it were a deadly, ominous weapon.
The burning sunlight poured down, dyeing her palm a faint reddish hue, a color that suddenly seemed ominous and terrifying.
The innocent joy of catching fish had vanished, replaced by a profound and unsettling revelation about her own hidden, dangerous power.