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Chapter Twenty-Four: Chains of Fate
Mahogany Town hadn't changed at all since his last visit. The locals seemed happier and more relaxed now with the wolf threat resolved at the Lake of Rage, but they seemed blissfully unaware of a greater threat looming over them. He wondered if the people here knew about the poisoning of Prince Benga and if they even cared? Probably not. Locals never seemed to care too much about the royals.
Lance headed towards the mayor's office in the centre of town. Bruno, Lorelei, and Lyra were most likely staying at the tavern, but Lance didn't feel the need to speak to them just yet. The locals stopped their activities to watch him walk by. It wasn't often a royal came through their town or any knight at all. No one said anything, most likely out of fear and intimidation. A merchant stopped packing the crates on the back of the wagon. A group of children fell silent. A mother holding a baby opened the front door then closed it again as soon as she spotted him.
He didn't understand why. It wasn't as if the royal family had ever done anything to the villagers, but perhaps that's why they were hesitant – aside from trade, what had Edward ever done for these people? It wasn't as if he had granted them much protection or had any walls built to protect them from raiders. The man had only focused on the city itself and paid little attention to the surrounding ones unless they had something to offer.
He reached the mayor's office and pushed open the door. The room was no bigger than Samuel Oak's room back at the castle keep and little had changed since he had last visited. Pryce was sitting behind his desk, writing something on paper with an ink pen. Lance cleared his throat to catch the man's attention. "Pryce."
Pryce glanced up. "Ah, Lance. They told me I should be expecting you."
Lance didn't waste time explaining the situation. "Clair's taken over the city and grandfather appears to be in ill health. She's deemed me as a traitor and setting foot within the castle grounds will see me arrested and placed in the dungeon. I can't have that happen to me." He leaned back in the chair, resting his hands on his knees. "Clair is just a minor threat; the real trouble lies beyond the walls. Someone within the city murdered Prince Benga with blood magic and I know there are more of these people out there that will target Blackthorn. The death of Prince Benga was just the beginning."
There was a pause as Pryce absorbed the information. "And how do you propose to stop this threat with no army under your command?" the man replied with a frown. "You said it yourself. Clair has deemed you a traitor to the crown. You walk through that gate and you'll be caught."
"I'll have my army. I intend to take the throne for myself."
"And start a war with your cousin?"
Lance leaned forward, moving his arms to rest on the table. "I'm not going to murder her, Pryce. She'll be locked up. There's a secret entrance into the city through the sewers. I used it to get out of the city – Lyra took the same passageway. From there, we can enter the courtyard. Lorelei is a mage… and Lyra is a faerie. I'll be able to tell where the guards are from a safe distance."
"And how will you do that? You're not a mage or a faerie, Lance."
"I'm something else entirely. Another well-kept secret from my dear grandfather."
Pryce stroked his chin. "You're a werewolf." He didn't seem surprised.
"You knew."
"I had my suspicions. You were talking about experiencing symptoms on a full moon, yet you never turned, and I know the curse is triggered when you take a life for the first time. That's when I realized you were curse, and why the potion was made specifically for you to help you get through it with minimal pain," Pryce pointed out. He fell silent reflecting on his words then said, "Have you any idea what you are going to do? I assume you found a reverse it otherwise you wouldn't be here now."
He hadn't given it much thought. He assumed wolves just turned on their own in a private place, but never really thought hard about the transformation itself. Naturally, it was going to be painful – it was a curse. "No, I don't have a clue. It's not like there were any wolves in the city I could talk to for advice. There is my father, but I won't risk him coming here. Not yet. Not until the full moon has passed."
It dawned on him then that he didn't know much about wolf culture and what it meant to be a werewolf. He knew there was an alpha, the leader of the pack, but he wasn't sure how this was decided or what rules there were to follow. He didn't know how long a transformation lasted for or if would become easier overtime. His knowledge was limited to increased strength, resistance to magic, heightened senses and the enhanced healing.
"Are you nervous?"
Lance looked away, shifting his attention to the window to watch people passing by. He wondered what it would be like to not know anything about the dangers they were facing. What it would be like to be clueless. There was no reason to feel fear and uncertainty when you didn't know what awaited you in the darkness. "No," he said, keeping his tone and expression neutral. He wasn't unafraid. "How are the others?"
"In good spirits."
"And Lyra?"
"She arrived safely."
"She's a faerie. Agatha told me."
Pryce raised an eyebrow. "A faerie?"
"Yes. Don't ask me to explain it. All I know is she's special, and we need her."
"She's important to you," Pryce mused.
Lance nodded. "Of course. She was Clair's personal servant."
"I meant on a deeper level, Lance. Lyra isn't just some servant to you. You know what she is. Duty would have you arrest her and have her executed before a mob for her magic. But you haven't. You hated all mages. What made you change your mind?"
"She's not a mage."
"You understand what I am saying."
Lance shifted his gaze away again, looking down at his hands on the table. "I never had a chance to understand mages. My knowledge came from my grandfather's teachings and from my training lessons with Chuck. I should hate everything about her if I was a loyal obedient grandson. But I can't. It would be wrong of me to judge her for what she is when magical blood runs through my veins too. Do you trust them?"
"No, I do not," the man said, clasping his hands. "I only trust people who have earned it."
"Wise." Lance paused, lifting his gaze and meeting Pryce's own. "I couldn't let her die, Pryce."
"Even if she had killed Prince Benga?"
He shook his head. It was a question he didn't want to answer. What if Lyra had killed Prince Benga? What if she was pretending to be innocent? No one understood the full power of the faerie kind. But Clair was a poor liar. Her motives were obvious. She never wanted the marriage. "I don't even want to think about that situation," Lance remarked. "I know my cousin. I know she was responsible."
"You're choosing a servant over family."
Lance tightened his jaw. "Because I know she's innocent. Besides, if Lyra had died, how else are we supposed to fight off the necromancers? If a faerie's power can stop them then Lyra is our only hope of succeeding or all is lost."
Pryce's mouth curved into a smile. "She's just a tool of war for you then."
Unsettled, Lance replied, "No. She's more than that." He wasn't sure what point Pryce was trying to make, but the questions were venturing into personal territory. "I'm going to the tavern. I can't delay these plans any longer than I already have. I take it you're coming along as well?"
The man nodded. "I do have this letter to my wife to finish, but I will join you. I trust you know the way."
"It's not exactly difficult to miss," Lance replied, turning towards the door.
"Think hard about what you will do next."
Lance ignored him and exited the building.
.
Morty stepped through the wooden gates and entered the city, stepping out of the thick blanket of fog in the forest and into familiar territory – the pagoda gates of the old city, Ecruteak. He walked towards the arch and stood beneath it, gazing up at the sky. A sea of thick, grey clouds stretched across the sky, blocking out the sun. Not even a single glimpse of sunlight could be seen.
He walked towards the temple, but only covered a few feet when he spotted a familiar face leaning against one of the maple trees. Eusine. The man had his arms folded, his weapon hanging loosely off his right hip. Morty approached him. "Eusine. I see you are still alive."
Upon hearing his name, Eusine's eyes opened, his jaw dropping. The shock faded from his face fast. "You're alive." He looked him up and down, as if looking for evidence of battle.
"You seem surprised," Morty replied with a frown. "Do you lack faith in my skill?"
Eusine shook his head. "No. Not at all."
Tilting his head towards the temple, Morty said, "Is Naoko inside? I have news to share."
"Yes. She's been in there for days. Hasn't come out. N's been here too. They've been in deep discussions about something, but they haven't told us anything," Eusine explained, his arms dropping to his sides. "You've been busy then."
Morty nodded. "Busy bringing us one step closer to freedom. I have what we need. Now I just need to give them to Naoko." He turned away from Eusine and started making his way towards the temple when Eusine called out his name. Holding back a sigh, Morty turned around again. "Yes? I don't have time to delay."
"You get to be the hero then."
"I don't see it that way, Eusine," Morty replied, frowning once more.
Eusine snorted. "We've been waiting for your return. I thought you might've died."
Morty rolled his eyes. "Have you so little faith? I helped you with your little problem. Did you tell Naoko?" He tilted his head to the side, studying Eusine's expression closely. The man refused to meet his eyes directly. "You didn't tell her anything, did you? Typical. I suppose you wanted the glory all for yourself."
"Naoko won't talk to me. I'm not part of her inner circle."
"Why the vehemence in your tone? I thought we were friends."
Eusine's lower lip curled. "When you want to be."
"Have you spent all this time standing around here in the city?" Eusine wasn't part of the inner circle. It wasn't as if Naoko would entrust him with an important task. He was probably sour because of boredom. "No wonder you're in such a foul mood. Regardless, I need to talk to Naoko. I've obtained the three relics."
"Go on then. Through the door. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you."
Something had changed. Eusine had always been a jealous man, but never spiteful. But he hadn't returned home to speak with the man. There were more important people to speak with. Turning his attention away from Eusine, Morty approached the temple and knocked on the door. After several knocks, the door swung open.
"You have returned," Naoko said.
Morty nodded. "Indeed." Peering past her shoulder, he spotted a man kneeling on the ground, head bowed in prayer before the phoenix statue, his long, green hair held together with some string. He was dressed all in black robes, a stark contrast to the colourful red and black garbs Naoko wore. Next to him was a staff. "You have a visitor?"
"You know of our leader, N."
Right. N. The true leader of the Order of Ash. The man who gave orders to Naoko. What had the impidimp said? Naoko had killed some mages. Slashed their throats open and let them bleed to death. She had talked to a man with long green hair. The impidimp had called him N. What words had been exchanged on the mountain that day? What had left Naoko in tears?
"I was expecting someone… older."
Naoko smiled. "Looks can be quite deceiving."
"Has he been in here this entire time?" Perhaps that was why no one was allowed within the temple without permission. Because N was living inside, but why would he want to keep hidden? "You didn't want anyone to know?"
"N is here for the relics. He is not here to make conversation with the members of the Order."
N picked up the staff and climbed to his feet. He turned around and gave a brief smile. "Ah, so you must be the Champion Naoko speaks so highly of." He approached them with brisk strides. "Morty, yes?"
Morty nodded. "Yes."
N looked him up and down, his expression stern, calculating almost. "I sense the relics on you. You have done well. I will take them off you now and begin the preparations for the sacrifice.
He held his free arm out.
Morty removed the amulet from around his neck and handed the relic over. "That's the amulet taken from Clair Blackthorn. She bought it from a merchant. A treasure hunter called Gardenia. I gave her a golden sword in exchange. Easily done." He then removed the ring and placed it on N's palm. "This was found in a cave with a tyrantrum."
N put the amulet around his neck then placed the ring on a finger. "And the final relic."
"The sceptre. A boy called Bugsy found the location of Nathaniel Oak's tomb and convinced his descendent, Gary Oak, to open it," Morty added, handing over the final relic.
"You have done well. Naoko's faith was not misplaced. A worthy sacrifice. I trust Naoko will prepare you." N took the sceptre then retreated to a flight of stairs leading downwards to a basement.
Morty raised his eyebrows. "Prepare me for what?" But N had already departed. Brows furrowed, he turned to Naoko. "What sacrifice?"
"This is your reward."
"I don't understand."
She placed her hands on his shoulders and held his gaze. "You have done, my Champion. You have retrieved all three relics that will be used to restore our Father from his long slumber. But there is one final piece. Blood must be spilled. You have earned the right – The Phoenix has blessed you."
Sacrificial ritual. A blood sacrifice. He was the sacrifice. He drew back from Naoko. "A sacrifice," he replied making a sardonic laugh. "After everything I've done for you. I'm the final piece? I never agreed to being sacrificed like an animal," he spat.
"You swore an oath to serve."
"To serve yes, but never for ritual sacrifice!" An icy coldness poured through him. If only he had a weapon now to drive through her heart. "You used me… Made me out to be your favourite… And all this time I thought I was someone special…"
She chuckled. "You were the most promising of the mages – you were so… eager to become one of us, but you have an inflated sense of self-importance." She walked over to the statue. "This is your purpose. This is what you became a Champion for."
"My life has no meaning to you." Fantina had warned him. Even the impidimp sensed their magic was unkind. But he had defended Naoko. Tried to justify the actions of his people to Falkner even. But everything had been for nothing, and now Naoko had the three relics to awaken Ghetsis. What then? He tightened his jaw, fingers curling into fists. Naoko never cared. Nothing but a disposable soldier. "I believed in you… Our cause… Everything."
She turned to him again. "You are obedient."
"I don't agree to anything."
She pointed a finger at him. "You don't get a choice in the matter, Morty. I made you into what you are – I decide your fate." She approached him again.
He willed his body to move, but his legs were frozen in place. Everything for nothing. Nothing but a bloodied corpse. Naoko never cared. Just a tool. A weapon to be discarded. No different from the soldiers in Blackthorn who he had mocked, but their lives had some value. "I won't do it."
At the time he had mocked Fantina for being weak. Called her a fool and a disbeliever. But she had been right. Naoko hadn't cared at all. They were disposable soldiers. The impidimp had said something similar. "You've played us all for fools…" he said slowly, struggling to maintain a steady tone. "I believed in you and your cause!"
She sighed again. "Your efforts have aided us tremendously. I knew you would succeed the moment you completed your initiation trial. Know that in death you will restore our kind to glory."
He took a step back from her as if she were diseased. "I met one of your former followers. Fantina. She warned me about you, but I didn't believe her. I mocked her for her lack of faith. But she was right. How many others have you sent to their deaths? Did you think I would actually succeed, or were you also trying to dispose of me?" Not chosen to serve. But chosen to die.
"You chose to commit your life to our cause. To give your life for our god no matter the risk because there is no greater cause than serving The Phoenix… Yveltval, the true god. The god of death," Naoko said quietly, holding her chin high.
Ho-Oh will protect and guide you. The Brotherhood will keep you safe. You will always have a home here, and your efforts will bring us closer to achieving our goal. You are special. You are the Chosen One, and your faith will be rewarded. All lies. Every single promise. Everything had been a lie. False praise. The promise of grandeur and power. He looked at her now as if she were something to be despised. Even the god he believed in was false. "I gave you all that I had!" he exclaimed. Whitney sacrificed. Countless lives taken. All for a reward that didn't exist. How could he have been so blind?
"And you served."
Now his legs decided to move. He made a break for the door and placed a hand on the handle. Before he had the chance to escape, the door pulled open. Two guards stood outside, drawn to the temple because of his yelling. The guards were both fully armed and equipped with a large shield and a sword. Both were also wearing heavy chainmail, and only the smallest glimpse of skin could be seen in the opening for the eyes. They towered over him.
"You disappoint me, Morty. Perhaps you are not worthy of holy sacrifice after all. Our Father praises strength and purity of mind, not weakness and cowardice. Yveltval has granted us the power over death – we are not to be frightened of it."
"Then you don't need me."
She tilted her head up, as if looking down upon filth. "No. Perhaps I do not. But you have shown me your true nature. Your lack of faith. A true believer would be willing to die for our Father. There is only one place for you – The Pits. The deprived. The forgotten. The shamed and the damned. Guards!"
He was reminded of Falkner. The man had wanted to be appreciated. His eagerness had led him to an early grave. Fantina had wanted to be admired too and she had been left at the bottom of a well. He too had wanted to rise within the ranks of the Order of Ash. To ascend to greater heights than just a soldier. That had never been in Naoko's plans.
"Now you'll rot at the bottom of the Pits and become nothing but a distant memory. You could've died a hero, Morty – a sacrifice for the greater good of our kind – but you've chosen the other option. I will find another person to replace you. You are no different from the others."
He was cornered. There was no way out. He couldn't fight both the guards and Naoko especially unarmed. He backed away, positioning himself on an angle so he could see both the guards and Naoko. Cornered like an animal and intended to be sacrificed like one as well. Die on an altar or die at the bottom of a burned tower. A quick death or a slow one.
"Surrender peacefully and accept your punishment. Resist and it will be worse for you," Naoko said, reaching for a dagger hanging off a rack on the wall. She walked towards him. The guards also moved in creating a small distance between blocking off his escape routes.
Glaring, he looked at Naoko. "What happens after you resurrect him? Conquer the world? Kill everyone? There won't be anyone left to rule over!"
"Sending you to Blackthorn was a bad idea after all. You've become weak."
A guard lunged at him. He moved back. The other guard moved forward. He sidestepped, but only stepped into the path of the other guard. He couldn't turn around and run – there was a wall behind him. All he could do was wait for the inevitable. His heart pounded. His legs felt heavy, as if there were weights attached to them. His body stiffened, tense. Not once had he ever felt so helpless.
One of the guards grabbed his arm. He tried to pry his arm free, but the man's grip was unrelenting. Another guard struck him in the face. He moved his head to the side, taking the punch to the left cheek. Holding back a hiss of pain, he spat at the ground. Again, he tried to pry himself free, but his attempts were futile. Even if he managed to free himself, another guard would pin him down.
"You disappoint me, Morty. I thought your faith was strong."
A guard rammed a knee in between his legs. He collapsed to the ground, bringing his knees towards his chest to further protect himself from harm. Fiery pain spread throughout his body. Shame poured through him. Powerlessness. A position he wasn't familiar with. He clawed at the floor, and tried to pull himself up, but his body refused to move.
His world faded to black.
.
Lance entered the tavern and found all but one companion seated around the table. They appeared to be in deep conversation about something, but it came to an immediate end when they spotted Lance.
Bruno raised a hand and waved him over. "Lance. About time you made it. I was wondering when you were going to show." He grabbed his tankard of ale and took a sip.
"Where is Lyra?" Lance said, noticing the absent of the girl.
"Lorelei told her she was a faerie." Bruno forced a laugh. "A faerie. I can't believe it."
"It's all true," Lance replied.
"She said she needed some time alone to let all this magic stuff sink in. Lorelei took her downstairs to tell her more about this faerie business. I don't think she'll complain if you visit her," Bruno said with a grin.
Lance didn't bother replying. Instead, he turned his back and headed towards the kitchen area. He hadn't noticed any doors outside leading downwards so he assumed the entrance to the cellar was in the kitchen. No one made a move to stop them. Lance entered the kitchen area and searched for the cellar entrance. It didn't take him long to find. There was a flight of stairs leading downwards. He followed them down.
He expected to find various food supplies and barrels of ale, but instead he found combat dummies made of straw. Several of them lay on the floor, the stench of burned straw filling the air. He supposed Pryce had cleaned out the place in advance, but how had he known the place would be needed?
"Lyra," Lance remarked, feeling his stomach muscles tighten.
Upon her name, the girl glanced over her shoulder and looked at him. Her brows were furrowed, concerned. "Lance," she replied tonelessly.
He approached her but didn't reach out to comfort her. Was she still uncomfortable to be around him because of what he was? "You made it. I'm glad you made it through safely." Not that the risk was great. Bandits didn't often come this way because of how close Mahogany Town was to Blackthorn.
She nodded, though she didn't seem excited. "Yes, I did."
"I didn't want you to go alone."
'I know. But you had to. I managed. It wasn't that far of a walk."
He rubbed the back of his neck and changed the topic. "Lorelei told you about the faeries."
"She's quite knowledgeable." After a pause, she added, "A faerie. I wish I were dreaming."
He frowned. "You're not impressed?"
"What am I even supposed to do? I'm not really a mage. No one can tell me how to use my power. We hardly know anything about the faeries, so how am I going to be of any use to anyone?"
He didn't reply immediately, unsure himself. How did faeries use their powers? What exactly could they do? His grandfather hadn't spoken of them. "You'll know when the time is right. How are you feeling? I know you've been through a lot recently. If there's anything I can do, I will."
"I'm just having a bit of trouble trying to understand it all." Her dark eyes met his own. "I was a normal village girl. Then I became a slave to your cousin. Now I discover I'm a faerie. I don't know what to think anymore. Where do I even belong?"
"You can't go back to that life anymore, Lyra."
She gave him a shrewd look. "Why not? Are you going to stop me?"
He shook his head. "No. But your life is never going to be the same. You can't go and live in some quiet village. You thought you were safe in New Bark Town, but bandits attacked. You can't defend yourself, so what are you going to do if your new place of residence gets attacked?" He paused to allow his words to sink in then, "I can protect you," he added softly.
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm a slave, Lance."
"Not anymore you're not." He took a step towards her. This time, she didn't back away. "Your service to my cousin is over."
"Am I supposed to serve you now?"
He shook his head. "I would never ask you to submit to me. I want us to work together for a brighter future for Blackthorn and this world we live in. Together, we have the power to stop the darkness from spreading."
Her stance softened, and her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I know you saved my life."
"And you saved mine without even knowing it."
She forced a smile. "Are you worried? There's a full moon approaching."
"I know."
"Have you thought much about it?"
He shook his head. "No."
"But it makes you anxious."
To Pryce he had lied and claimed he wasn't nervous, but Lyra wasn't Pryce. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd be lying if I said no, but it has to be done. Grandfather always said sometimes a great sacrifice is needed to win a war. And this is mine. He was right about something. We don't know what we are truly dealing with, but I need strength. A dormant wolf only has a bit of that, but with the curse reversed, I can be more."
Much to his surprise, Lyra threw her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. "I wish I could help you more… but I don't have the time to learn all that I need to be useful," she replied softly. "You've done so much for me already and it pains me I can't return the favour," she added, pulling back, and looking up at him.
"You don't need to. You just need to survive. That's all that I ask for." He had a sudden urge to pick her up bridal style and carry her too someplace comfortable. He wanted to embrace her. Kiss her. Make love to her. He supposed it was the triggered wolf inside him filling his head with such thoughts. It troubled him. He hadn't thought of such things before. "I won't allow harm to come to you."
"You care too much about me."
"As I said earlier, you opened my eyes to seeing the truth."
She shook her head. "Prince Benga would still be alive if it weren't for me. You should've arrested me – done the right thing and turned me over – but you didn't. I never should've trusted Morty."
"He saw you as an opportunity. You didn't know what he was or what his intentions were. I wasn't going to sentence you to death just to appease my cousin." He paused then continued, placing his arms around her waist, gazing intently into her dark eyes. In turn, Lyra draped her arms over his shoulders. "But we don't ever have to worry about that. When I claim the throne, your name will be cleared. People like you… people like me… They'll have a home in Blackthorn. This I promise you."
"I believe you," she whispered. "Arceus, I believe you."
"That I'm glad."
She propped herself on her toes and leaned in, her dark curious eyes filled with longing. He lowered his head, eyes fixed on her face, taking in every little detail. The high cheekbones. The long-curled eyelashes. The faint freckles around the bridge of her nose. Small details he otherwise would not have noticed if he hadn't been standing so close. She closed her eyes, her lips pressing against his own. He pulled her in closer, returning the gesture of affection eagerly, breathing in her scent. They parted for a moment for air then resumed once more. It was only when his hands moved up under her shirt that she pulled away.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what overcame me," she said, pulling away, her tone unsteady, face flustered. "Must be the magic in my veins."
Lance pulled back, embarrassed at his brief lack of control. Definitely the werewolf part of me, he thought. "No. Don't be sorry. It was… pleasant." Love. A word often thrown around, and one he didn't fully comprehend. Knights were not allowed to marry unless they had left the service. They were expected to remain chaste in service to Arceus. He was pleased to note her ears were red. He wasn't the only one flustered. Clearing his throat, he said, "We will overcome this. We have to."
"I know."
He pulled away, his arms dropping by his side. "As much as I'd love to continue trading words with you, we need to come up with a plan on retaking the city." Gesturing towards the door, he said, "After you."
Lyra didn't speak. There was a spring in her step as she walked away. Lance followed her through the door and up the stairs, a slow grin spreading across his face. In moments of darkness, there were also moments of light. This had been one of them. A hope for the future. Darkness would not triumph here.
.
