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The Beginning After The End

Chapter 450

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CH 450

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Chapter 448: A Silent and Unmoving Conflict

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Just now
KATHYLN GLAYDER
I hurried down the long, strangely empty halls of Etistin Palace toward the East
Wing, where
two very unusual guests were waiting for me.
My pulse was beating quickly in my throat, driven by my own inexplicable
nervousness.
Calm yourself, Kathyln, I thought, my mental voice sounding all too much like my
deceased
mother. But everything had moved so quickly after the appearance of the dragons,
with
Curtis and I being swept along in a tide we could not control or fight, and I had
just begun
settling my head around this new normal. It was only natural that such visitors who
asked
for me and me alone, would make me nervous, given the political context.
The clipped beating of my feet on the marble floor resounded off the walls and came
back
to me as a subtle echo, like someone was walking just behind me. Normally such
sounds
wouldn’t be noticeable in the palace; the dull but constant drone of conversation,
or
competing footsteps, or the ring of training blades from the courtyard, would
swallow it up.
But few could stand staying in the palace now, so near the dragons’ heavy auras—the
King’s
Force, as they called it.
I passed by a guard, whose arrow-straight posture straightened even further at the
sight of
me. He did not meet my eye, but I felt his gaze burning into my back once I’d
passed. Could
he sense my anxiety, read me like an open book? I listened for the telltale armored
steps of
the man retreating down the hall to report my strange behavior to Guardian Charon.
I’m being foolish, I acknowledged. Do not succumb to your overactive mind. Again,
the
thought in my mother’s voice…
As I approached the sitting chamber where my guests had been placed to await my
arrival,
I straightened my dress and fixed a welcoming smile on my face, feeling it tremble
only
slightly.
They were both already standing as I entered, their eyes on the door.
Such inhuman eyes they had, one pair the liquid gold of the sun’s reflection on
water, the
other like two shining rubies.
“Lady Sylvie,” I said, acknowledging her with a sharp but shallow bow, not exactly
sure how
she ranked in the currently complicated politics of Epheotus and Dicathen.
She returned the bow, much deeper, a respectful but also carefree gesture that made
me
regret my own calculated greeting. Her pale hair tumbled over her face, bright
against the
dark horns curving up from the sides of her head. When she straightened, smiling, I
was
struck by her height and the sharpness of her features.
I shouldn’t have been. It was only natural that she would age and grow. But the
last time I’d
seen her—sometime during the war, I wasn’t even quite sure exactly how long it had
been—
she had presented herself physically as a child when in her humanoid form. Now, she
was a
young woman, and yet the confidence and maturity that radiated from her like an
aura
made her seem much older.
She stepped quickly forward, and her black dress swished and caught the light, its
thousands of tiny black scales glittering.
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I stiffened as she wrapped me in a brief hug.
She didn’t seem to notice as she released me, still beaming brightly. “Lady
Kathyln. It is good
to see you again. Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice. I have no
doubt you
are very busy, and I understand the nature of our arrival is somewhat…unusual.”
As she said “our,” I turned to her companion with the red eyes.
Blue hair fell down the full-figured woman’s shoulders, simultaneously dark next to
the black
horns wrapping around her head like a crown and bright as it framed those ruby
eyes. She
was Alacryan, one of the beings they called Vritra-blooded. She was suppressing her
mana,
preventing me from properly gauging her core level, although that alone told me
something: she was stronger than me.
The woman copied Lady Sylvie’s bow, although she did not break eye contact, giving
the
motion an almost aggressive air. “Lady Kathyln Glayder. My name is Caera of
Highblood
Denoir. As Sylvie said, thank you for meeting us.”
I gestured to a stiff couch across from a high-backed chair, taking the chair for
myself. My
fingers automatically went to the carefully carved grooves in the arm’s woodwork,
tracing
the lines as I considered them. “Lady Sylvie, I find it somewhat disconcerting that
you’ve
asked for me in some secrecy when there are members of your own race present in
this
very palace. Why not seek the counsel of your own kind? Furthermore, why keep your
presence a secret?”
Sylvie sat very properly, her gaze unwavering. It was very easy to see her as some
divine
princess from the far-off land of dragons. It was a bit more difficult to keep in
mind my own
purpose and the guidance and direction I had received from Guardian Charon and
Windsom about how Arthur and his companions were to be treated in the event they
returned to Etistin.
Meeting with them in secret behind Guardian Charon’s back was certainly not a part
of said
guidance.
“Arthur has sent me to inform you of a potential attack on the palace,” she said,
managing
to be both confident and consoling. “An attack targeting the dragons that would
nonetheless put you and your brother in extreme danger.”
I felt my lips’ desire to frown, but I held them firm, keeping every muscle in my
face in its
natural place, just as my mother had taught me from a very young age. “I hope you
have
more to say than that. An attack on the dragons…who would dare such a thing? The
fact
that you’re here offering a warning makes it clear you find the threat to be
sincere, but I
can’t imagine who, short of the opposing asuras, would be a relevant danger.”
Sylvie seemed to consider something for a moment, then words began to flow out of
her as
she wove a story of visions and powerful, asura-killing assassins, dead dragons,
and even
my own death. I was surprisingly unmoved as she explained this part, although her
mention
of my brother’s demise raised goosebumps all over my skin.
I maintained my posture and expression throughout, but on the inside, I was a
roiling sea of
uncertainty. I was aware of Arthur’s fight against these “Wraiths” in Vildorial, as
were
Windsom and Guardian Charon, but it was the dragons’ opinion that Agrona’s soldiers
did
not pose them, or us, any threat. The war was over, and the dragons were protecting
Dicathen.
It was perhaps not fair to Lady Sylvie, but I was also skeptical of any such
visions that
claimed to see future events. My parents, as the king and queen of Sapin, had been
surrounded by soothsayers and seers attempting to peddle prophecies at every
juncture.
Except for Elder Rinia, I had never met anyone claiming to be an oracle who could
tell so
much as the next day’s weather.
The Alacryan woman, Caera, listened just as raptly as I did, clearly not having
known the full
story until that moment. Another point of strangeness working against them.
When she finished, Lady Sylvie was silent as she waited for my response, giving me
time to
properly formulate it.
“Forgive me. That is a lot to take in,” I said, searching her golden eyes for any
sign of deceit
but finding none. I imagined Arthur stalking a faceless creature of shadow through
the
streets of Etistin at that very moment, and a shiver ran through me. “I admit,
hearing your
tale has only made me more confused. If the goal is to prevent this attack on
Guardian
Charon, why not speak to him directly?”
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I thought through the question even as I was asking it and came to the answer on my
own.
“You do not want the other dragons to know you are here until Arthur is with you.
And Arthur
g

does not want to go to Charon without some proof of the Wraiths’ presence.” I felt
the
smallest frown purse my lips and smoothed it away. “Are such gifts of foresight
common
among your kind, Lady Sylvie?”
Her head cocked slightly to the side as she considered me. “No. Arthur has always
trusted
you, Kathyln, and so I chose to as well. I hope I made the correct decision.”
Coming from anyone else, the barbed words would have drawn my ire, but coming from
this golden-eyed dragon, all I could think was that I also hoped that she was right
to tell me
the truth.
“There is a general council meeting tomorrow,” I said after a long pause. “What you
describe, it sounds like what we—”
Mana erupted in the distance, and I forgot what I was saying, instead staring at
the wall in
the direction of the source.
“A decay-type mana art,” Caera said, frowning. “That was a lot of mana.”
I stood suddenly, smoothing out my dress. “Stay here. No one will bother you. But
the
dragons will have sensed that as well—hells, the entire city will have. I need to
make sure
there isn’t a panic.”
Before either of the women could speak, I turned on my heel and marched out of the
chamber. The guard from before had moved from his post and was standing in the
middle
of the hall, staring as if expecting an army of Alacryans to come pouring down it
at any
moment. He spun and snapped into a salute when he heard my approach.
I whisked past him and headed for the main palace entry. As expected, I found
Curtis
already there, standing in the outer courtyard and staring east. He glanced at me
as I
moved to stand at his side.
“Did you feel that?” he asked, frowning. Grawder, my brother’s world lion bond,
gave a low
growl, and Curtis patted his mane.
I didn’t answer, as Windsom entered the courtyard at that moment, every hair in
place, his
military-style uniform as crisp and well-kept as always. His ethereal, starry-night
eyes
stared upward, and I followed his gaze just as a transformed dragon appeared, its
shadow
sweeping over us and speeding toward the source of the explosion.
“I thought we agreed there would be no transformed dragons within the city proper,”
I said
halfheartedly, knowing my protest would fall on deaf ears.
At my side, Curtis shifted nervously. The dragons made him inexplicably nervous,
and he
hated whenever I said or did anything he deemed “impertinent.”
We did not have to wait long for the dragon’s return.
The huge blue reptilian being landed right in the courtyard with us, the wind of
its wings
making me stumble. Grawder moved between us, shielding Curtis and me with his body.
And so I didn’t immediately see the passenger who rode on the dragon’s back, not
until I
lowered my arm and stepped around Grawder.
Arthur, his physical appearance so changed that it still caught me off guard to see
him, slid
down to the ground and started walking toward us, heedless of the deity at his
back, as if he
rode on a dragon all the time.
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I startled, almost laughing to myself, although my long-practiced sense of decorum
prevented this. Of course, because he does ride on a dragon.
“Call for Guardian Charon!” Edirith, the blue dragon, announced, his voice just as
gargantuan as his draconic form. “I have brought the one called Arthur Leywin! Call
for the
Guardian!”
Windsom stepped forward and raised a hand, and Edirith stilled and went silent
before
resuming his humanoid form. Windsom smiled warmly at Arthur and opened his mouth to
speak, but Arthur walked right past him, instead approaching Curtis and me. I
traced his
sharp features with my eyes, searching for the boy I’d known at Xyrus Academy or
the
young general he had become during the war, but just as the last time I’d seen him,
this
new Arthur presented so little of who he’d been before.
And yet he is perhaps even more handsome than before, if that’s possible.
I cleared my throat, shaking off my distraction. “Arthur, it’s a pleasure to see
you.”
“Kathyln.” Unexpectedly, he reached out and pulled me into an embrace. A tingle ran
along
my skin as his lips moved so close to my ear that I could feel the whisper of his
breath as he
said, “The others?”
Understanding I returned his embrace as I would an old friend and nodded ever so
slightly.
He let me go, and I straightened my dress again, carefully avoiding glancing in
Windsom’s
direction as he instead held out a hand to my brother.
“Curtis,” he said simply as they shook hands. “You’re growing a beard. I’m not sure
it’s
working for you.”
Curtis let out the boyish laugh he was known all throughout Sapin for, but the joy
of it didn’t
reach his eyes. He was guarded, wary, and Grawder picked up on the tension,
lowering his
head and shaking out his mane, his gleaming eyes locked on Arthur. Long gone were
the
days of comradery at Xyrus Academy between members of the Disciplinary Committee.
I hated that politics poisoned my thoughts even in that moment, just as I knew what
my
brother was thinking. And yet there was no escaping it. Our country—our entire
continent—
was too fragile not to consider every option as we attempted to rebuild.
“So, Arthur Leywin finally graces us with his presence,” Windsom said, his hands
clasped
behind his back. “Hello, boy. Where is my lord’s granddaughter? I hope you haven’t
lost her.
Again.”
Arthur and Windsom matched unfriendly looks, a contest I couldn’t help but expect
the
asura to win. And yet, Arthur did not seem like a man studying a deity. No, he was
not lesser
in this contest of wills. There was something distinctly predatory in his eyes that
made me
instinctively take a step back.
“Sylvie is fine. Safe, which in this case means far away from you at the moment. I
have news
for whoever is in charge of the dragons,” Arthur said, his voice absent of any
obvious
disrespect while still managing to sound directly combative. “Imagine my surprise
to learn
that wasn’t you, old friend?”
With each word the two exchanged, I grew more uncomfortable.
The dragons had spent months with us in Sapin helping to rebuild and keeping us
safe from
additional attacks from Alacrya. They were sometimes difficult to understand, and
their
dispositions were not like any humans, elves, or dwarves I had ever met, but that
was to be
expected. They weren’t like us, and it was improper to gauge them on our metrics.
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And yet it had been Arthur who swept across the continent like a storm of fire to
burn away
the Alacryan occupation. Arthur, too, was responsible for the treaty with the lord
of
Epheotus, the dragon Kezess Indrath, which brought the dragons to our shores.
Seeing their conflict caused a raw, caustic ache in my stomach. Dicathen couldn’t
afford for
these forces to be pitted against one another, although I thought I understood the
reason
for Arthur’s attitude, at least.
After all, the smoke still rose over much of Elenoir, where our old ally, General
Aldir, turned
the forests to ash.
I dreaded the thought of threading myself like a needle between these two titanic
forces,
but who else was there to do it? There was far too much at stake to let the
antipathy
between them derail the future of our entire continent.
Taking a step forward so the movement would draw their attention to me instead of
each
other, I gestured toward the palace entrance. “Windsom, Edirith, please attend me
as I
escort Arthur to Guardian Charon.” Keeping my tone as neutral as I was able, I
continued.
“Charon Indrath has been…keen to meet with you, Arthur. I’m certain he will be
willing to hear
you out.”
Arthur relaxed and fell in beside me, holding out his arm for me to take it.
Windsom turned
on his heel and marched away without a second glance, his hands grasped behind his
back, while Curtis somewhat awkwardly marched on Arthur’s other side. Edirith fell
into step
behind us, his agitated aura lashing us like a whip. My body was rigid with
tension, each
step like I was crossing broken glass, but I held it all in.
Somehow, despite his earlier intensity, Arthur seemed as relaxed and at ease as if
we were
out for an afternoon stroll in the palace gardens. I’d much rather be walking
through the
gardens than—
I clipped the improper thought off as soon as I recognized where it was going. I
was the
thread that would stitch the wound between Guardian Charon and Arthur, and I
couldn’t
afford to start showing either favoritism. Thoughts eventually became action, even
inadvertently.
When we arrived at the throne room, I was unsurprised to see the entire council had
already
been convened. Although it took us ages to discuss even the simplest issues, when
the
Guardian called on them, they practically teleported to his feet. I didn’t hold
this against
them, however. The dragons’ presence was overwhelming, and the Guardian himself
doubly
so. They simply played the game of politics as best they knew how.
Otto and cousin Florian had their heads together, whispering animatedly. Lord Astor
was
lingering as close to Guardian Charon as he dared, and I saw Jackun Maxwell and
Lady
Lambert as well. The others of the council either spoke quietly among themselves or
waited
in tense silence.
Charon himself sat stiffly on the dais at the foot of the throne, where he always
sat when
events caused us to use this room. The dragon didn’t need a throne to make him look
regal
or powerful.
A row of guards lined the walls to the left and right, at least four times the
number we
usually requested for such events. It was an impressive display, taking me back to
my days
as a child in these very halls, when it was my father sitting on that throne with
my mother at
his side.
I felt cold and distant as I thought of them. Knowing that particular emotion would
be useful
for what was coming, I held onto it tight.
Windsom came to a halt before we’d crossed a quarter of the throne room, forcing me
to
stop behind him. He opened his mouth to introduce us, but hesitated when the sharp
sound
of footfalls continued to resound through the cavernous chamber.
All eyes gravitated to Arthur as he left me behind, marched past Windsom as if the
dragon
were as unremarkable as sagebrush, and headed straight for the Guardian, his stride
unbroken by nerves or the bitterness of self-doubt. I could only watch, spellbound,
as Arthur
crossed the throne room like a riverskin hunting in the bay.
Edirith hurried after him, his powerful hand closing over Arthur’s shoulder. “None
approach
the Guardian without—”
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Arthur turned, his golden eyes flashing like the edge of a blade.
The dragon faltered, and Arthur continued on, never breaking his stride.
The entire chamber remained frozen in rapt anticipation.
“Guardian Charon,” Arthur said. He stopped walking as he spoke, standing just
before the
throne, and the sound of his voice was like the breaking of the spell, and the
entire
congregation seemed to take a breath all at once. “Guardian. I didn’t think to ask
Vajrakor
whose idea that title was. But then, he and I didn’t get along very well. I’m
hoping this
meeting will go better.”
Charon stood, standing head and shoulders above Arthur from his place on the dais,
but he
did not linger there, choosing instead to step down and meet Arthur eye to eye.
Energy crackled like a physical force between them as they regarded each other.
There was
a silent and unmoving conflict between them, or rather the intent they both wielded
like a
weapon. In a way, they were a sort of mirror of each other.
Charon was the same height as Arthur and yet seemed to tower over everyone around
him.
His build wasn’t powerful, matching Arthur’s lean and graceful athleticism, but his
raw
strength was visible in his every movement. He shared Sylvie’s light-colored hair,
which I
assumed was an Indrath trait—does that have something to do with Arthur’s
transformation, I wonder?—but his eyes were deep, dark pools of plum purple.
In their faces, though, the two were nothing alike. Although Arthur had returned
aged, his
face sharper and more mature than before the war, he still looked like a boy next
to Charon,
whose features were grizzled with the scars of a thousand battles, pock-marked with
old
burns, and hardened into unbending expectation.
It was a face that conjured both fear and respect with nothing more than a look.
What it did not do was smile often, and yet the Guardian’s scarred cheek twitched,
and the
corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. “Yes, Vajrakor was quite thorough in
his
description of that meeting, as well as in his approximation of your abilities and
temperament.”
Windsom took this as some sort of cue and moved forward again, taking up his
position to
their left. The dragon guard flanked Charon. Wanting my physical position to remain
neutral,
I stood opposite the group from Windsom, my brother at my side.
“Welcome to Etistin, Arthur Leywin,” Charon said, his deep voice a thunderous
rumble. “It is
good that we are finally meeting, even if the circumstances are less than ideal.
The
disturbance outside the city—what were you up to?”
Arthur scanned the crowd of counselors and guards. “Perhaps we could speak in a
less
public setting?” Arthur suggested quietly.
The Guardian made a sudden, sharp gesture with his hand. The two lines of guards
spun on
their heels and began marching out of the throne room, creating an aisle between
them
where the counselors and other noble types could leave as well, although this
latter group
did so hesitantly, without the snappy military precision of the soldiers.
Curtis shifted, glancing at the retreating counselors, and I knew he wished he
could join
them. He and I had been under a constant bombardment of “guidance” from our
counselors since Lyra Dreide officially ended the occupation of Dicathen and Arthur
left us in
charge of Etistin. Not all of the advice we received was what I would call “good
advice,” and
that had only gotten worse since the dragons’ arrival. Curtis in particular
struggled to
balance his own desires with those of the people, the dragons, and our chosen
council.
The truth was that we needed the dragons. We needed their power and their
leadership,
and the confidence it gave our people in the future. Too much had happened—the
death of
the kings and queens, the defeat of the Lances, the loss of the war and subsequent
occupation, the destruction of Elenoir—for our people to simply expect that we
could rebuild
what we’d lost.
The dragons provided a new foundation on which to build, and without them, I feared
the
ground would always be waiting to slide right out from under our feet.
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And yet…I had been raised around politics and court intrigue my entire life. I
could see the
manipulation of public opinion as it was happening; the dragons had silently been
undercutting the people’s view of Arthur. It was an “out with the old, in with the
new”
mentality that I understood, but it was unjust and terribly unfair to a man who had
given so
much to save us.
Then, he had been the one to bargain for the dragons’ protection. I also felt it
was necessary
to trust that he knew what he was doing.
The last of the crowd left, and two guards worked together to shut the large throne
room
doors.
“Better?” Guardian Charon asked, holding his hands out to his sides as he gestured
around
the wide, empty space. “Now, what are you doing here? What happened?”
Arthur retold the story that Lady Sylvie had told me, although he left out the part
about her
apparently having witnessed the attack in a vision. Arthur, in fact, seemed to
gloss over how
exactly the evidence of an attack had come to him.
“Although I’ve eliminated one, there will be others,” Arthur concluded. “I can’t
promise that
this will dissuade their attack, either.”
Charon crossed his arms and shook a lock of hair out of his face. The look of
intensity he
projected was one I’d seen many times before. “I assure you, I have no need of
protection
against Agrona’s soldiers. Your earlier defeat of the Wraiths should have disabused
you of
this notion that they can defeat my kind. Certainly not warriors. I promise you,
Kezess did not
send farmers or fledgling children in training to guard this continent.”
Arthur took a couple of steps as he began to pace, then forced himself to be still.
His eyes
jumped to mine for the briefest instant of contact. “Even a battle where you
defeated them
could result in the deaths of dozens, even hundreds of the city’s residents. All
I’m asking is
that you help me scour the city and surrounding countryside. Let’s make sure
they’ve gone.”
Charon shrugged, a motion that was at odds with everything else about his posture
and
expression, which rarely relaxed into anything less than that rigidly militaristic.
“I don’t want
you scaring the people of Etistin by turning the city upside down in a search for
ghosts.” He
looked at Windsom. “See what can be done, subtly. Perhaps call in a few dragons
from the
patrols, faces the people here won’t recognize. And they should be adept at hiding
themselves among the lessers.”
“Of course,” Windsom said with a shallow bow.
“The presence of Agrona’s most powerful forces on Dicathen only reinforces my other
reason for being here, however,” Arthur continued, his voice carrying the weight of
words he
expected not to be taken well. “I have spent some time in Alacrya, fighting
alongside Seris
Vritra, the leader of a rebel faction fighting back against Agrona.”
“That is a rather generous way to phrase that,” Charon rumbled, a suppressed laugh
in his
words.
Arthur didn’t acknowledge the interruption. “I have offered Seris and any of her
people that
wanted to join her sanctuary in Dicathen, safely in the Elenoir Wastes with the
submitted
Alacryan army. Seris has asked me to extend my hand in friendship with you and your
kin.
She hopes that, in exchange for the protection you’re already offering this
continent, she
can provide you with useful information about Agrona and Alacrya’s defenses among
other
things.”
Charon’s brows, left half bald and tattered by the scarring on his face, had slowly
crawled
up his forehead as Arthur had spoken. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.
“That is
certainly a brave request, if not a rational one. That you can so boldly claim to
have
smuggled an undisclosed number of enemy combatants into this continent, reuniting
an
enemy general with many thousands of her soldiers in the process, and not seem to
understand the ramifications, suggests to me that perhaps your reputation as a
strategic
genius is exaggerated by the people here.”
I held my breath as Arthur cocked his head slightly to the side, but before he
could respond I
took a quick step forward. From the corner of my eye, I saw my brother reach for my
arm,
but I evaded his grasp and put myself next to Arthur, directly across from the
weighty gaze
of Charon’s dark eyes.
“Guardian Charon,” I began, my words clearly enunciated and polite, “thank you for
including my brother and me in this meeting. We both have come to greatly
appreciate the
healthy working relationship you have maintained with Etistin’s new governing body,
and I
hope that you’ll allow me to speak on Arthur’s behalf. Having known him since we
were
children and benefited directly from his actions on multiple occasions since then,
I can tell
you with no hesitation or doubt that the reality of his accomplishments regularly
goes well
beyond the rumors that follow in his wake.”
I took a breath, having rushed to get everything out before I was interrupted.
Windsom was
eyeing me with thinly veiled annoyance, but Charon was attentive.
“Although he has never taken steps to make it so, Arthur is looked up to by many as
the de
facto leader of Dicathen, uniting humans, elves, and dwarves in their respect for
him. The
presence of your kin here has been a blessing, Guardian, one we will never be able
to repay,
but not everyone has it in them to forgive the past and trust that the dragons
really mean
peace.”
I looked between the two, mentally urging them to listen to me. “You need each
other,
Dicathen needs you both, for this ever to work. Charon, as named regent of the
continent, I
believe Arthur is well within his authority to offer sanctuary—”
“Regent is not a title we acknowledge,” Charon said smoothly, his deep voice
swallowing
mine. “A title invented by invaders and handed down by a turncoat. There is no
legitimacy in
it.” He paused thoughtfully. “But you are right beside that, of course. Our
presence in
Dicathen is down to this agreement between Arthur and Lord Indrath, and I don’t
intend to
work against my lord’s purpose. But neither will I ignore my own best judgment.”
Before he could continue speaking, a heavy knock on the doors pulled everyone’s
attention
in that direction. One opened partially, but instead of a guard, Lady Sylvie
Indrath walked in,
her fair hair and skin practically glowing against the darkness of her horns and
clothes. I felt
a spike of disconcerting fear, but knew that Arthur could speak with her
telepathically. I
could only assume her arrival at this time was by design.
“Cousin Charon,” she said, marching down the aisle toward us at speed, the soles of
her
boots clacking with each step.
Caera slipped through the door behind her, walking in her shadow.
Windsom’s nose wrinkled up in annoyance or frustration, I couldn’t be certain
which. He
glared at Arthur.
But Charon gave a warm smile that softened his harsh features and broke away from
our
group, moving to meet Lady Sylvie. “Second cousin, thrice removed, but I suppose
that
doesn’t matter outside of Epheotus. Have you been slinking around the palace all
this time?”
“Of course she has,” Windsom snapped, growing increasingly irritated. “Charon,
Sylvie is to
be returned to Lord Indrath immediately, per his very explicit instructions.”
Windsom’s
galaxy-colored eyes bore down on Arthur. “This is not a request, Arthur. If you
value this
continent, you’ll—”
“Guardian Charon, is it you or Windsom here who is in command of the dragons in
Dicathen?” Arthur asked smoothly, his note of feigned curiosity like the twisting
of a dagger.
“Windsom…” Charon said, his tone thick with warning.
As the two powerful asuras exchanged a long, meaningful look, my own gaze slipped
away
from the drama of their confrontation.
Also sharing a meaningful look behind the asuras’ backs were Arthur and Sylvie.
Some silent
communication drifted through the air between them, drawn on nearly visible line of
their
shared eye contact.
After a handful of very long seconds, Windsom straightened his uniform and nodded.
Charon let his dark gaze linger on Windsom for a long moment even afterward, then
turned
back to Sylvie. “Now, I believe we were having a reunion. Please, let us all go
somewhere
more comfortable. We have a lot to talk about.”
Report

INDEX

MOST VIEWED NOVELS

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The Beginning After The End

8.6

Martial God Asura

9.0

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6.8

Reincarnation Of The Strongest Sword God

8.4

Supreme Magus

7.9

Invincible

8.8

Overgeared

7.1

My Vampire System

8.9

The Novel’s Extra

7.0

War Sovereign Soaring The Heavens

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LATEST COMMENTS
SA

The Beginning After The End Chapter 450

Did you believe all the shit that Agrona said chapters ago? He simply said that to
not admit his
mistakes just like when he blamed Kiros, he had really discarded all ideas about
Arthur that's why
he looked like a fool in VictoriaD.
Salchipapa
OB

The Beginning After The End Chapter 450

It has not been made clear tho? In fact, and especially in the case of Argona, it
has been implied
that they have backups for their backups
Obsessed Flat Earther
SA

The Beginning After The End Chapter 450

If they are, are there tens of thousands of wraiths and how many asuras? Even in
the future vision it
is 10 vs 3 Asuras have slow reproduction
Salchipapa
SA

The Beginning After The End Chapter 450

But it has already been made clear that none of them have a real plan, Agrona's was
to bring the
legacy but everything related to Arthur has been done improvising. Kezess is much
worse because
it has already been said that he only pretends to know but is actually ignorant.
Salchipapa
TR

The Beginning After The End Chapter 450

Its the asura who call it decay mana art, not Arthur
tran quang anh
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