The Last Red Shoulder

by Gunlord500

Sidestory to "Wayward Son." How did the Western Isles become colonies to Etruria in the first place? A year after the war with Bern, Roy poses this question to Elphin, and receives an answer he never expected...and could not even imagine.

20. Closure, of a Sort

Chapter 20: Closure, Of a Sort

Neither Athos nor Goldeye said a word as Khyron flipped through Kain's personal journal, entirely absorbed.

"This can't be true," he murmured as he flipped through to the end. "N…none of this can be true. It can't…"

"Oi, matey, what's it say?"

"I-it's insanity!" Khyron threw the book on the ground, and his face was bright red. "We…we can't believe any of it! It has to be propaganda, it has to be!"

"I'm not so certain," said Athos contemplatively, picking it up. "It's common for men to lie to others, but not so much to lie to themselves. Kain might have thought whatever he wrote in his personal journal was true, at least. It might not be wise to just dismiss it out of hand."

"But it would mean…it would mean…the Church was working with the Red Shoulders!"

"Eh?" Goldeye's grip on the Armads tightened. "Ye'd better explain, Khyron!"

He did so. He explained every entry he'd read: Kain's description of the other members of Squad Seven—his friends—and their status as an equivalent to Khyron's own Autonomous Company. The first battle at Ebrakhm Valley Castle, and the subsequent setbacks they face—Khyron put special emphasis on Kain's confusion with Oldnar's orders, and his despair and confusion at what happened to the Iceaxe tribe. It was evident he had no idea what had gone wrong with the negotiations. The entry at the middle of the journal was written just before the last battle at Ebrakhm, explaining how no-one knew where Oldnar and Kassa (whom Khyron assumed was the woman accompanying him) had gone.

There was a definite shift in the very next entry. Kain's handwriting had suddenly degraded, seeming very shaky and uncontrolled, but still legible. Claiming to be writing these for his own sanity, Kain described how he'd come across the Armor of the Berserk while being chased down and how he wanted revenge for his friends with it. The last several entries were what shocked Khyron the most.

Kain claimed that the Berserk had absorbed the memories of those it killed. And when he hunted down Oldnar at Castle Ebrakhm, he saw the entire war—and the death of all his comrades—had been engineered between Oldnar and Gosterro himself. Oldnar betrayed the Red Shoulders to the Church, assassinating the chief of the Iceaxes and blaming Kain for it so all of the Isles would be united against his forces, paving the way for peace negotiations. In the wake of those negotiations, the Church of Elimine would be given control of most of the islands' resources, in return for Bern getting more favorable trading conditions and Etruria getting a lasting peace. Archbishop Gosterro and the Church he represented had essentially used everyone fighting on the Isles—Khyron, Zedal, the natives, and the Red Shoulders themselves—as pawns to gain more power for himself.

"Seems t' me like th' Church is th' real villain here," said Goldeye, grip tightening on the Armads. "Damn scalawags, where are they? I'll teach 'em a lesson!"

"Stay your hand, friend." Athos looked very troubled, but not frantic. "While I just told you that few men lie to themselves, in their own thoughts, the Armor of the Berserk complicates things. If Kain wrote those entries while under its influence, they may not be entirely accurate. The truth may be more than he made it appear."

"I knew it," said Khyron triumphantly. "All this is nonsense! Pfeh, how silly of me to have been taken in, even for a moment! I'll destroy this imm—"

"Stay your hand as well, Khyron. Disregarding Kain's testimony could be as foolish as accepting it uncritically. To find the genuine truth behind what happened here, and the war we fought, we should investigate further."

"Searchin' fer truth rather'n treasure? I guess I can do that. So where do ye propose we start?"

"Khyron, do you have any means of contacting Gosterro? Let's see how he defends himself against the allegations Kain made."

"No, I don't. Gosterro's crystal ball is still in Bern, I didn't have time to pick it up before you whisked me away."

"I see. Do you know where Gosterro might be, then?"

"In Etruria, of course. He's only one Archbishop of eight, who make up the Head Church of my country, or the Supreme Church of Elibe. I'm sure he'd be meeting them right now to discuss our mission!"

"Where would they be meeting?"

"Probably in the Royal Guest Suites of the Palace."

"Then let us go there now."

"Wait, you can't just—"

Once again, all three of the heroes were engulfed by light…

-X-

"We have more to worry about than even an Archbishop's death, Khesrad. I've just received word from a bishop in the Isles. There's something—"

"Yes, Bishop Fredlin just arrived an hour ago. He spent every charge on his Warp staff to get here! What in the world is going on there?!"

"Gosterro told us he would take care of everything, damn it!"

"Well, if he hasn't—"

This debate was the first thing Khyron heard when the white light fell from around him and his friends. When he looked around, he noticed with a start he was in a familiar place—one of the rooms on the west wing of the Holy Royal Palace, all the way back in Etruria!

The Church of Elimine and the crown of Etruria had a very close relationship, so there were several accommodations in the Palace for the higher-ranking clergy. The eight Archbishops had their own rooms in the legendary Guest Suites, and they also had a small conference chamber there for their own use on certain occasions. Khyron had visited it once before, on a tour of the Palace when he'd first became Mage General, but had never seen it in use…until now.

The seven Archbishops seated around the stone table were equally surprised to see their new visitors. "God help us!" one of them yelled, grasping his personal Divine tome. "Is this another assassination attempt?"

Realizing that they might recognize him but not his two companions, Khyron overcame his disorientation to take control of the situation. "Peace, holy ones," he said, stepping forwards and then dropping into a bow, "we mean you no harm! I am your humble and loyal servant, Khyron of Caerleon. These two are my loyal and steadfast companions. We…we have just accomplished a mission on behalf of one of your own, His Excellency Gosterro!"

"Really?" One of the Archbishops sitting on the east side of the table nearly leapt from his chair. "You mean you've destroyed the Armor of the Berserk?" The other Archbishops laid down their tomes and let out a sigh of relief almost simultaneously. "Oh, thank God! A blessed day this is, my friends! All of Elibe is saved!"

Another one—the only female of the Supreme Church, he name was Aleffine, Khyron recalled—smiled warmly at Goldeye and Athos. "And you two, you're the heroes who helped our Mage General, yes? A legendary hero, in the case of you, Athos. A blessed day indeed! Seeing both a terrible curse lifted from the land and meeting one of our Saint's companions—in the flesh!—can indicate nothing else but God's beneficence. And you…" She let out a slight chuckle when she looked at Goldeye. "I'm not familiar with you, sir, but if that axe you wield is any indication, you are truly an heir of Durbans."

"Bah! Me name's Goldeye, missy! Don't ye forget that! When I'm done, I'll be more famous than Durbans!"

The outraged Khyron was about to tell him to show some respect, but Athos didn't care to waste any more time. "Thank you for the welcome," he said. "You are the leaders of the church my…Elimine founded, yes?" There was a slight surge of emotion in his voice, though barely perceptible. "You honor us. But something is amiss. I do not see Gosterro himself here. Where is he? Given how grave his quest to us was, I would think he would want to discuss it with his fellow Archbishops, and that he would want to hear the good news of our success."

Aleffine exchanged worried glances with the other six Archbishops.

"Gosterro has…returned to God."

"What?!" Khyron knew what the aphorism meant, but he couldn't really believe it.

"Archbishop Gosterro is dead, Khyron."

The previously jubilant atmosphere of the conference room was now replaced by a deep sense of melancholy. Even Athos seemed perturbed—no-one was expecting this.

"When? How?" Khyron's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Just last night," replied Aleffine. "He and his—ah, he was found dead in his bed this morning. We have no idea who committed this heinous crime, nor any idea of how they could possibly do it undetected. Gosterro's cathedral is one of the most heavily-guarded buildings in this city, and even if someone managed to get past the soldiers, it would be impossible for them to undo the many enchantments and sigils he placed as protection within his tower. And that's not even mentioning the traps. Anyone who would be capable of such a feat must be a magician on par with Lord Athos, or even greater."

Athos furrowed his brow. "I see. Gosterro was a man of God, was he not? How could he have acquired such powerful enemies?"

"Unbelievers are many in this day and age," said another Archbishop. "He may have been murdered by a Red Shoulder, or any other remnant of the rebels we so recently defeated. Lord Athos, you are familiar with the recent civil war our country has had, along with Khyron's struggle to defeat what was left of them, are you not?"

"I am. I accompanied Khyron for most of that fight. If Gosterro was as capable a magic-user as you say, not even a Red Shoulder could have gotten past his defenses. Kain, in the Armor of the Berserk, might have had a chance, but we have just defeated him and destroyed the Armor. Perhaps the leader of the Red Shoulders…?"

"You mean Oldnar?" asked a third Archbishop, unaware that he was being led into a trap. "Impossible. Why would he?"

Khyron didn't understand this line of questioning, but Athos quirked an eyebrow. "Impossible, you say? Why wouldn't he? As a Red Shoulder, wouldn't he have been Gosterro's enemy?"

The clergyman almost fell out of his chair, realizing he had let slip more than he intended. "Oh, I mean, well, not even he could be so skilled—"

"It couldn't be because he was in league with Gosterro, could it?"

"No, of course not! Such a jape, Lord Athos, your wit is as sharp as your friend Roland's blade!"

"A high compliment, but I'm not looking for those at the moment. Forgive the disrespect, but I would like to hear what you have to say about this." Athos took out Kain's small journal and tossed it onto the table. "That is an account from the last Red Shoulder. Kain, the man possessed by the Berserk. He was the one who killed both Zedal Gustav and Oldnar Posaydal. In this journal, he wrote the latter was working with Gosterro. Is there any truth to that accusation?"

"N-no, of course not! It must be a trick!" The Archbishop was sweating now. "Don't fall for a Red Shoulder's lies, we—"

"Enough," came Aleffine's quiet voice. She spoke with little force, but it was enough to silence everyone in the room. Khyron's heart skipped a few beats when he heard it. It was exactly what he did not want to hear.

Sighing, she reached out to take the journal and flipped through it, as if expecting what she'd find. "Kain's account is true, or mostly true, I suspect."

"Aleffine!" The other six Archbishops seemed on the verge of leaping out of their chairs and tearing the old woman apart. "What are you doing? Have you any idea of what you're saying? Stop! We can't let them know—"

She picked up her crozier, leaning against the side of her chair, and slammed it on the floor with much more force than one would have expected her frail arms to be capable of. It was enough to shock the other Archbishops into submission again.

"We have been beholden to Gosterro for too long," she said quietly. "That ends now. We are supposed to be servants of God, not a single man. And with Gosterro dead, I see no point in denying his sins." She turned back to Athos, Khyron, and Goldeye.

"Gosterro kept much from us. But even so, all of us had some idea of what he was doing. We knew he had connections with the Red Shoulders, and that he used those connections to profit for himself, with no concern for the people he hurt and betrayed. And we went along with it, saying nothing, turning a blind eye to his schemes, and attempting to hide behind a veil of ignorance, because he was also increasing the power and wealth of our church."

"That can't be…" Khyron stepped back, as if struck. There were the beginnings of tears in his eyes. "That…that can't be!"

Overcome by emotion, he slammed his fists down on the table, shocking everyone in attendance. "Is there nothing good in this world?!" He was shouting now, his face red and contorted with rage. "I had faith in you! I believed in the Crown and God and His Church! Even when my fellow nobles betrayed me, even when my soldiers abandoned me, I said the devotions and the rosary, I prayed to God for favor, and when it was all over I confessed my sins. But for what? For what?!

"Don't you believe in God? I believed in you, and I had faith in you, could you not at least believe in God as well? How could a man like Gosterro become an Archbishop? And how could you go along with him? Did Elimine not command you to be truthful? To be just? How is what you and your church have done anything like justice? To think you can get away with all this unpunished…is God blind? Does He not exist?!"

"Oh, spare the dramatics," said the Archbishop with the thin moustache—Khesrad was his name. "You can't be so naïve to—"

He was cut off when something clenched around his throat and lifted him into the air.

Something was the right word, because it could not be seen. Some invisible force had gotten hold of the Archbishop with a grip as strong as steel.

Khyron thought it was Goldeye at first, but the pirate was looking at Athos, as surprised as the rest of the audience. Athos was holding his staff towards the terrified Khesrad, and the expression on his face was unlike anything Khyron had seen before. The Archsage had been worried, determined, and concerned while fighting Kain, but he never seemed to have given much vent to his emotions. Now, however, the scowl on his face indicated he was furious.

"I knew Elimine," Athos growled, his voice low and cold. "I knew what she believed in, and the cause she sacrificed so much for. She gave up everything she had—including me-for her faith. And I will not stand by to watch that faith be traduced by such petty, cowardly scum as you!"

"Peace, Lord Athos," rumbled the Archbishop in the middle of the table. Now that Gosterro was gone, he was the oldest member of the Head Church—his name was Nikon. "I will be the first to admit I am a sinner—as are we all, for no man or woman is perfect, not even the blessed Elimine. We Archbishops are human as well, and are incapable of achieving whatever our blessed Saint could not. Yet, before condemning us too badly, it might be best to think on why such sin has crept into Elimine's church.

"For centuries—long after you retreated to the desert, abandoning the rest of this land, and long after the Saint ascended to heaven, leaving the rest of us behind—the Church was the only thing holding mankind together. Every government had collapsed during the Scouring, and Hartmut, Roland, and Barrigan could only hold humanity together for so long. They would not live forever, as no man will, and Durbans and Hanon weren't interested. It was up to those Elimine left behind to guide the people, at least until kings could again rise to replace Roland and Hartmut.

"No-one but the Church was up to that task. For years the business of governance was almost entirely in our hands, and even today it still is to a great extent. We oil the wheels of diplomacy, making sure all our countries avoid all-out war. We deal with the problems of poverty and disease; it is thanks to our almshouses and sanctuaries the poor and sick do not simply die in the streets as they do in Bulgar. Our priests and bishops double as clerks and scribes, recording births and deaths, maintaining local records for the commoners, and keeping the secular bureaucrats from being overwhelmed by all the small matters we take care of.

"We and the Church are of the world because we have to be. And the price we pay for that necessity is that the world creeps into our affairs as well. Any positions of power inevitably attract men and women who are…not as upright as the Saint. And in an imperfect world, where men lack God's wisdom and power, it is sometimes necessary to do…questionable things.

"In this case, Gosterro perhaps overstepped his bounds. But men like him would inevitably creep into the Church in any case, simply due to the exigencies the Church's position in this society places upon her. Even we Archbishops are only human—unlike you and the Saint, my lord. I beg you, show us the mercy Elimine taught."

"Hmm." Athos lowered his staff, and Khesrad collapsed back into his chair, gasping for breath. "I've been away for a long time, indeed. Far too long…"

"Lord Khyron." Nikon turned to him. "I can understand your anger, and I can sympathize with your loss of faith. I'll not condemn you for anything you said—because, in truth, it is my—our failing, not yours, which has led you to this point. But I entreat you, Mage General, to think of what our justifications were. Gosterro was a dishonest, power-hungry schemer, but he did bring peace to the Isles. Our greatest fear was a long, drawn-out conflict, which would bring terrible suffering to the people there, or war between Bern and Etruria, which would bring suffering to even more people. If Gosterro was able to keep all that from happening, we were willing to overlook his…indiscretions. For the sake of all Elibe! My lord, your oaths swore you to the people of this land as well as the Crown. It was out of concern for those people that we failed in our moral duties. Can you understand that, at least?"

"I…I…but what about all those who died?" The frustrated Khyron still wasn't ready to give in. "The men I lost fighting there? The natives who fought with me because they were deceived? And all those who died on Caledonia at the start of Gosterro's schemes? Wh…what of all of them?"

"There are gone, now, and their deaths lie heavy on all our hearts," said Aleffine sympathetically. "Yet the person responsible for their deaths is gone as well. Perhaps it was God who decreed that Gosterro ought to die, and he thus paid his price. Is that not enough?"

"But what of the complicity of the Church herself?! You've dishonored our faith, even though you, who are its highest representatives in our mortal world, should uphold it more fervently than anyone else! You must stand to account, or make some sort of recompense, or…"

"What would you have us do?"

"Admit Gosterro's crimes and stand down from your positions!"

"And what good would that do?" Nikon asked. "Think of the social and political ramifications of what you're suggesting, lord. If we step down and this becomes a widely-known scandal, the prestige of the Church would be shattered."

"It deserves to be shattered!"

"And what would happen then? Remember what I just told you earlier. The Church serves as a vital lynchpin in the societies of both Bern and Etruria, and occupies a vital place in diplomacy across Elibe. If the Church falls from that position, who will replace her? How long will that take? And what will happen in the meantime? Think carefully about that last question, Lord Khyron. The answer should terrify you."

"…they are right," said Athos sadly, his eyes closed. "From my journeys on the Western Isles, I could tell how much longer the war would have dragged on were it not for our and their intervention. If the present settlement falls apart, the bloodletting will almost certainly resume, and last for years to come. Not even mentioning the chaos any loss in the Church's prestige would cause in both Etruria and Bern. The two countries might even come to blows over the Isles yet again if the Church is no longer able to mediate between them as a neutral party. And if that happens, the war we have just fought would look like child's play compared to what is to come."

"It can't…I…damnation!" Khyron again slammed his hands on the table. "Archsage, surely you can't…"

"I wish I didn't, but I have to," he sighed. "I've seen more war than any single man ought in a single life. I don't want to see any more than I have to. Khyron, I want you to make your own decision. If you think it's just for the Church to make a public account of what it has done, I won't stop you. But I have made my own decision. It is…what Elimine would have wanted. As petty and venal as human beings can be, she never lost her compassion for them. I will try to show the same spirit."

"Agh…damn!" Khyron's gaze snapped back to the Archbishops. "Fine, you have my silence. But mark my words, God and the Saint will not be mocked. If I and the people of Elibe will not punish you, God will. That I know for certain!"

Some of the other Archbishops tried to suppress their snickers, but Aleffine nodded and looked Khyron in the eyes. "You may be right, Lord Khyron. And if you are, I will accept His judgment. And I also swear this: So long as you keep what we have said here a secret, I shall do everything in my power to erase this stain on the Church and the name of blessed Saint Elimine. We will put all our energy into ensuring a man like Gosterro will not be allowed to take power again, and that no war like the one you fought will wrack our country—or any other—ever again. As a woman of God, I make this oath, and should I ever break it, may I be struck down where I stand."

She performed the sigil of Elimine—drew a circle across her chest with a finger, then a line through it. Khyron nodded, accepting her oath—but there was one who didn't.

"Hold on now, lass," said Goldeye, his voice cold.

"You are…"

"I'm th' lord of th' pirates o' the Isles. Athos an' Khyron asked fer me help with Kain. An' I don't recall agreein' to any o' this!"

"Please, sir," said Nikon, "have you no concern for the people of the Isles themselves? They'll suffer greatly if war breaks out again."

"Aye." Much to the relief of Khyron, Athos, and everyone else in the room, Goldeye nodded. "'Tis the only reason I haven't gutted all of ye right now. Me people have had enough, I say. I ain't none too pleased fer how I've been treated by the Church. But th' man responsible fer the deaths o' the Iceaxe tribe is dead 'imself, and that's good enough f'r me.

"Alright, then, ye have me oath that I'll speak nary a word o' this ta anyone. Khyron's my friend, and if he's gonna keep quiet for th' good o' his country, I will too.

"But I'll warn ye, I won't f'rget a word o' this. An as far as I'm concerned, there'll be no friendship between men o' the sea and men o' th' cloth. I'll keep me word to Khyron and tell me mates not to trouble any servant o' the Crown who crosses these seas. But I don't make any promises f'r you churchmen. Far as I'm concerned, any Eliminean's fair game for me boys!

"Now, I've had enough o' this. Levin…or Athos, whatever, send me back to me ship. I'm getting' tired o' luggin this axe around and I wanna put it back in 'er rightful place. And I can't stand lookin' at this scum for a moment longer!"

Athos was more than happy to oblige. He raised his staff, and Goldeye disappeared with a flash of light.

"Goldeye's business here is done. But I don't think ours is, yet." He looked at Khyron. "The Bernese are still waiting for us. The knowledge that Elibe is safe—and that Zedal's murderer has been punished—will comfort them greatly. The best thing we can do now is to simply complete the peace negotiations."

Khyron glanced back at the Archbishops. Hate and a keen sense of betrayal flashed in his eyes for a moment, before disappearing. "I agree, Venerable Archsage. Let us go."

And with another flash of light, the so-called keepers of the Word had been abandoned.

-X-

"Lord Athos. May I enter?"

"Of course."

Khyron opened the unguarded door to King Arbain's personal chambers and came in. Athos greeted him with a smile, the first he'd seen since they'd left the Archbishops. He'd teleported them right back to the conference chamber in Bern, where they'd told the two remaining Wyvern Generals, King Arbain, and everyone else the good news. News of their success—and the presence of the Archsage—made the Bernites even more willing to negotiate than previously, and it seemed they would have a treaty within the next few days. To rest for the night, Arbain had happily given up his own quarters for one of the Eight Heroes, content to bunk with his own soldiers for a while—this was not uncommon in Bern's history, given the strength of its military tradition over nearly all else. Athos wanted privacy, however, and specifically asked that no guards be posted near the room if it was given to him. Thus, Khyron could sneak up here to have one last chat without anyone else noticing.

"Things are looking up again," Athos laughed. "Fairly soon you'll be able to go back to Etruria, won't you? Aren't you happy, Khyron? To be able to see your homeland again after so long?"

"Of course, Venerable Archsage. But, even so…" He shook his head. "The pleasure of returning to King and Country is dulled when I think of the threats looming over them both."

"Hm." Athos' brow furrowed in concern. "You refer not just to the corruption of the Church. I take it you're still worried about whoever assassinated Gosterro?"

"Yes. If that person could kill an Archbishop, who knows where they'll strike next? And what if…what if it's my fault? Perhaps Kain wasn't the last Red Shoulder. If someone else from the Rebels killed Gosterro, and if that person is still at large…haven't I failed?"

"I don't believe so, Khyron. For what it's worth, I don't think Gosterro's death has anything to do with our struggles. Aside from Oldnar, there's only one man in all of Elibe I think could have undone the spells Gosterro wove to protect himself."

"Who?"

"Ner…" Athos shook his head. "Nergal. It's not a name you're familiar with, and I don't wish to speak of him. All you need know is that he was a Dark magician with powers to rival my own. But I defeated him some time ago. Even if he wasn't dead, he couldn't have gotten enough power to do something like this. It seems the Archbishop's death is a mystery we can't solve, at least not yet."

"But you're right, regardless of the culprit, it bodes ill for the future of this land. I believe all of you—Bern and Etruria—may need some more guidance and security to make sure the new peace doesn't fall apart."

"Lord, what are you talking about?"

Athos scratched his chin. "I mean, Khyron, that I may not disappear just yet."

"Eh?"

"It's been a long time since I've set foot outside Nabata. This was the first I've seen of the outside world in six hundred years. After the Scouring, I'd wanted to get away from it all. But, thinking over what I've experienced…maybe that was immature of me. I think Elimine was right. I'm the only one of us eight heroes, besides Bramimond, who's still alive. I owe something to the land and people my Elimine fought so hard to defend.

"So, I won't leave for my home in Nabata just yet. I'll stay a while and advise both Arbain and Galahad on how to maintain this new peace—while keeping my identity here a secret, of course! It would cause chaos if people knew there was still a Legend running about. But I think I will forge deeper ties between myself and the countries of Elibe. Not just Etruria, but Bern and maybe Lycia too. I think I'll start taking apprentices."

"A…apprentices?"

"Yes."

Athos grinned. "And, I believe, from now on, whoever holds the office of Mage General will be the representative of his homeland of Etruria. Which means, Khyron, that you would be my first apprentice…if you want."

Khyron looked as if he'd just received the best birthday present in all of human history. "Of course! Of course! I accept, Master Athos!" To the Archsage's amusement, he lay himself prostrate on the ground.

"As my first lesson to you then, apprentice…well, first, get off the floor." Khyron obediently did so. "Second, there is something I want you to do for me."

"Yes, Master! Anything! Anything you want!"

"I want you to go on a trip with me. You'll be the Mage General Khyron, of course, but in public I shall play the part of the happy bard Levin. I want to see the rest of this world, and how it's changed. A traveling companion to the Mage General as he travels around Elibe on diplomatic missions sounds good, doesn't it?"

"T..travel? With me? Lord of Anima, I would be honored! But why?"

"Well, I can't return to Nabata just yet," Athos chuckled, and raised a hand to his chin. "I used to have a very long beard, you know, but I shaved it all off so no-one from the outside would recognize me. Of course, now, no-one from my home town would recognize me without it, so I believe waiting for it to grow back would be a good idea!"

His expression grew a bit more serious. "Truly, though, I believe I need to learn more about this world, and how it has changed since the Scouring ended. As I've told you, I haven't set a foot outside of Nabata in centuries. It was good for me, I think. The Scouring left wounds on both my heart and mind which needed much time to heal. However, I realize I still have an obligation to the people of Elibe, and I can't just hide myself away from your problems any longer. So, I want to see Ilia and Sacae, Bern and Etruria, and Lycia with my own eyes. I want to know what the people of those lands have managed to rebuild, and what troubles lie beneath their surface…so we can stop a war like the one we've just fought from ever happening again."

Khyron agreed.

And with that, and after a final bow to Athos, he left and headed to his own quarters—where he would enjoy the first night of peaceful sleep he'd had in a very long time.

::Linear Notes::

One more chapter left to go, friends. Just as a small note, Khyron's apprenticeship to Athos here is meant to presage Pent's later on; the implication is that the Mage Generals of Etruria would often apprentice themselves to the Archsage, as a way for Athos to keep in contact with the outside world while also influencing positively some of its most influential members, all under the tightest secrecy, of course :D