Paragon of Destruction

Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "You fought for two months straight, defeated most of the Rangers in the city, and ended your display by besting a Knight. I’m not complaining — not after the small fortune you earned me — but that you would draw attention is hardly unexpected."

"It’s not." Arran smiled wryly, and continued, "But I didn’t anticipate that the Darians here would be quite as interested in recruiting me."

"Recruiting you?" For a moment, Kaleesh looked at Arran in confusion. But then, as understanding dawned in his eyes, he cursed under his breath. At once, he turned to Barric. "Tell Sassun to meet us right away, and inform the other commanders that we’re leaving at first light tomorrow."

The giant Ranger didn’t move. Instead, he stared at them with bewilderment written across his face. "What’s the problem?"

Kaleesh sighed. "The problem is that we’re an army of mercenaries and prisoners, led by an outsider who’s been a Ranger for under a month. That alone has been enough for the Darian lordlings to harass our troops whenever they get the chance. And now, we also have something they envy — or someone, rather."

Barric furrowed his brow in a deep frown. "They wouldn’t dare attack Master Arran."

"Indeed they would not," Kaleesh answered flatly. "Fools though they are, they aren’t foolish enough to attack him."

"Then what problem is—" Barric fell silent mid-sentence. "Oh."

"Which is why we’re leaving at first light," Kaleesh continued, "and not a moment later. Now hurry up and find Sassun."

As Barric rushed off, Arran could not help but feel a twinge of guilt. He’d known his actions would have consequences, but he hadn’t fully realized the risk it would cause to his companions.

He’d initially only felt mild annoyance at the Darians’ unexpected friendliness, but it hadn’t taken him long to understand that their friendliness could easily turn to something else once they realized he had no interest in joining them.

The welcome he’d received when he first arrived in Knight’s Watch had given him a taste of what that something might be. And although few would now dare face him directly, the same wasn’t true for the others in the Wolfsblood Army.

There would be no major attacks, of course — just scuffles and provocations. But even a single scuffle getting out of hand could easily turn to disaster. A single Lord’s son being killed or injured, and even the Governor might not be able to protect them.

"It seems it’s not just your swordplay that has improved." Kaleesh gave Arran an appraising look. "I’d almost think you’re beginning to develop a sense for politics."

"Too much time spent in the wrong company," Arran replied. "But what’s this about you becoming a Ranger?"

"The Governor’s men came and dragged me off about a month into your little display," Kaleesh said. "Didn’t give me much of a choice in the matter." He hesitated before continuing. "I wanted to warn you about the oath, but I didn’t get the chance."

Arran made a dismissive gesture. "I doubt you could have warned me even if you tried. I’m guessing the oath itself is among the secrets it covers. If we hadn’t both sworn it, I don’t think I could say even this much."

"Probably," the captain agreed. He looked around furtively, and continued in a softer voice, "But they must know it’s magic, right? I’m no mage, but something like this... I don’t see what other explanation there is."

"Of course," Arran said. "The Governor told me as much, though he also suggested that it’s a dangerous thing to discuss. Even in private."

Kaleesh looked around uncomfortably. Then, speaking so softly it could barely even be called a whisper, he asked, "What about your plans?"

He said no further words, nor was there a need for them. Kaleesh knew that Arran had been the Ninth Valley’s heir, and although he’d avoided asking any questions about it, he naturally understood Arran’s purpose in coming to the Imperium.

"I suppose I will find a way," Arran replied. "Somehow."

Kaleesh remained quiet for several moments. Finally, he said, "If you manage to break the oath..."

Arran understood what it was the captain wanted. "I’ll search for a way to break yours, as well."

Though he spoke in a reassuring voice, he could not help but feel some discomfort at the words. Because as much as he hoped he could keep the promise, the truth was that he had his doubts about whether doing so would be possible.

Just destroying the seal within his own body was already a daunting task, and doing the same for another would be considerably more difficult.

Yet there was no point in saying that to Kaleesh before he was certain, and so, he kept his doubts to himself.

Sassun appeared a short while later. Dour-faced as always, he nevertheless gave Arran a friendly nod before turning his attention to the captain. "What’s this nonsense I hear about us leaving tomorrow?"

"Would that it were nonsense," Kaleesh replied with a dramatic sigh. "But alas, our dear friend has drawn the eyes of the Darian nobility, several of whom have already expressed a strong interest in recruiting him."

Sassun’s expression darkened at once, and he muttered a curse. "As if things weren’t bad enough already. We’ve had five men killed just this past month, and another two locked up for defending themselves."

"Which is why we’re leaving at dawn," Kaleesh replied matter-of-factly. "I have little interest in finding out what happens when the Darians are given even more cause for envy."

"Tomorrow’s awfully soon." Sassun appeared to consider it, as his expression soon turned to a grimace. "Just finding enough supplies and wagons will be all but impossible. And you know we have yet to hire cooks and healers, right? Not to mention the—"

Kaleesh cut him off with a gesture. "I doubt we’ll get much sleep tonight, but we leave at dawn." He turned to Arran. "We’ll have to continue our conversation another time. If you could make some rounds among the troops today, it would go a long way in boosting their spirits."

Arran nodded in agreement. If Kaleesh and the others would work through the night to prepare their hasty departure, then spending some time with the troops was the least he could do.

And just as importantly, doing so would give him the chance to explore the constraints the oath had placed on him.

As Kaleesh and Sassun set off, already bickering over the logistics of their departure, Arran turned his attention to the training fields. It was still early in the day — barely past noon, he saw — and the fields were filled with groups of soldiers, all but a few of them engrossed in their practice.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Arran approached one of the groups at random, and immediately found himself greeted with several excited calls.

"Master Arran! Will you be joining us?"

"If your commander will allow it," Arran replied, speaking loud enough that all could hear him.

Barely an instant later, a young Ranger stepped forward. "There’s no need to ask my permission," the young man said in an eager voice. "But we’ll be glad to train with you."

"Good." Arran gave the Ranger a studious look, and saw that the young man appeared to be neither an outsider nor a prisoner. "Are you new to the Wolfsblood Army?"

"I am," the Ranger replied. "My name’s Ifras. We’ve sparred already, though I doubt you remember it. Truth be told, that’s the reason I joined the Wolfsblood Army — the chance to train with a master like you."

Arran forced a smile to his face. "Then let’s not waste any time, Ifras."

He spent the next half-hour training with the Ranger and his troops, sparring with them and giving advice where he could. And if their admiring looks caused him more than a little unease, at least they listened well when he spoke.

Yet as he trained with them, he also took the chance to study the seal left by the oath, and quickly found that it worked much as he’d expected.

Whenever he tried to teach one of the common soldiers anything related to the first step of Enlightenment, he felt a subtle force holding him back — a painless but firm reminder that such topics were off limits.

The same turned out to be true for many of the Forms he tried to teach. While he could share the Darian foundation as he wished, many of the techniques related to insights beyond it were walled off by the seal — including, to his surprise, techniques he’d derived himself from his insights into severing and binding.

Moreover, he discovered that as long as the soldiers were close enough to hear them, he was unable to explain these techniques even to Ifras, as if the seal somehow understood his attempt to evade it.

He could not help but feel some awe at the sheer skill that creating such a seal would require. It was a level of mastery he hadn’t thought possible — one he suspected surpassed even Master Zhao’s abilities.

The feeling of awe quickly faded, however, when he reminded himself that he needed to find a way to break the seal. And if its defenses were even half as masterful as the rest of it, that would be a near-impossible task.

After half an hour of training and sparring with the soldiers, he turned to Ifras. "Tell your men to practice by themselves for a bit, so I can teach you, as well."

The Ranger gave an eager nod and did as Arran said, instructing the soldiers to continue their practice by themselves. Yet excited though he appeared, he did not seem entirely surprised. From the look of it, he was already well-acquainted with the seal’s limitations.

As expected, Arran found that as soon as they were out of earshot of the soldiers, the seal no longer prevented him from instructing the Ranger. More evidence of its elegance, and with that, more cause for Arran to worry.

He sparred with the Ranger for a quarter-hour, giving the man advice and pointers as he explored the seal’s effects. And this time, he didn’t encounter even a hint of any restrictions — as he’d already guessed, the oath did not restrict what he shared with Rangers.

Finally, he lowered his weapon. "That’s enough for today. We’ll continue this another time."

"Of course, Master Arran," the Ranger replied, bowing awkwardly. "And thank you for your time."

Arran gave the man a small nod, then made his way to the next group of soldiers.

He spent the afternoon training and sparring with half a dozen different groups, but although they were grateful for his advice — overly so, Arran thought — he made no more discoveries about the seal.

It was almost simple in its elegance, preventing him from discussing the oath and any advanced Darian techniques where any of the common soldiers could hear him, but no more than that. It did not restrict him from using his full abilities — not even against common soldiers — nor did it appear to place any limits whatsoever on what he discussed with Rangers.

But if the restrictions were limited in number, he found that circumventing them was completely impossible.

Whatever he tried, whether it was failing to look for nearby soldiers or merely demonstrating restricted techniques in such a way that common soldiers had some small chance of learning them, the result was always the same. He could use his abilities, but he could not deliberately teach them to anyone who hadn’t made the oath.

The only way around it seemed to be the path that Arran himself had followed: to learn from actual sparring. But that, he knew, would only work for those who were already close to setting their first step into Enlightenment.

But although he made no new discoveries concerning the seal, the time Arran spent training with the soldiers and Rangers wasn’t wasted, either. More than a few among them impressed him with their talent, and he could tell that his guidance would help speed up their progress.

Still, when evening approached and the troops returned to their barracks for their evening meal, Arran couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Useful though the training might be, there was only so much wide-eyed admiration he could endure.

After a moment’s thought, he set off toward Kaleesh’s mansion. Though he did not expect to find the captain himself — not with Kaleesh busy organizing a weeklong march with only half a day’s notice — there should still be some food to be found.

And more importantly, it would offer a welcome respite from the veneration that the soldiers continued to heap upon him.

Yet at barely a dozen paces from the mansion, Arran came to a sudden halt when he Sensed something inside the building — a Knight’s Living Shadow dagger, though somehow the feeling was weaker than it should be, as if the weapon was still hundreds of paces away.

He briefly hesitated, but then, he put his hand on his weapon and continued onward. If there was danger awaiting inside, there were none in the Wolfsblood Army better equipped to handle it than he was. Against a Knight, even the Rangers would be little more than a distraction.

Arran tensed as he stepped through the door, his body ready to explode into action if necessary. Yet the attack he anticipated did not come. Instead, he found a dark-clothed man standing in the main chamber, his expression impassive as he faced Arran.

"My mistress wishes to see you," the man said in a voice so calm he almost sounded indifferent.

"Who are you?" Arran asked, hand still firmly on his weapon. "And what are you doing here?"

"I am but a servant," the man replied. "Will you accept Mistress Nisra’s invitation?"

Though the man’s face betrayed no emotion, his tone suggested that rejecting the invitation would have consequences. And while Arran had some confidence in his chances against a Knight, there was something about this man that exuded danger beyond that of a common Knight — a hint of utter ruthlessness.

Arran wasn’t cowed so easily, however. "This mistress of yours, what does she want from me?"

"She wishes to share a meal with you," the man replied, "and to discuss your present situation. If you value the safety of your companions, you would do well to accept her invitation."

Arran’s gaze hardened. "If she wants to recruit me, tell her I’m not interested." Then, in a softer voice, he added, "And if you threaten my companions again, I will cut your heart from your chest and have it sent to your mistress."

To his surprise, a small smile appeared on the man’s face — one that suggested approval more than anything. "She has no wish to pry you away from your allies," the man said. "Nor did I intend to threaten your companions. The threat you face comes from her adversaries."

"What adversaries?"

"That is something my mistress will tell you herself," the man replied. "Should you choose to accept her invitation."

Though Arran trusted the man no more than he would trust a rabid dog, he understood that only accepting the invitation would get him further answers.

Moreover, the man could not have known that Arran had Sensed his presence well before entering the mansion. If his purpose in coming had been to kill Arran, he would have attempted an ambush rather than resorting to deceit.

Arran weighed his options, then finally nodded. "All right," he said. "I will share a meal with this mistress of yours."

The man gave him a small nod. "Very well. I will escort you to her estate."

As they stepped outside the mansion, Arran turned to the man. "One moment. I need to inform the others that I’m leaving for a bit."

"There’s no need for—" the man began.

"I’ll decide that," Arran cut him off. "Stay here." Without waiting for a reply, he set off toward the training fields, where he’d already spotted Barric sparring against Arjun.

"You two!" he called out as he approached. "Get over here!"

As Arran met the two Rangers, Arjun looked at him in concern. "Is something wrong?"

"I just received an invitation," Arran said, "from someone called Nisra. Does either of you know that name?"

The spark of recognition in the Rangers’ eyes made it clear that both knew who she was, but it was Barric who spoke first. "That’s Lady Zareen’s daughter," he said. "You do not want to offend her."

"Lady Zareen?" Arran furrowed his brow in thought, but he could not recall hearing the name before. "Who is she? And why should I be worried about offending her daughter?"

This time, it was Arjun who answered. "Lady Zareen is the wealthiest ruler within the Imperium. It is said that her riches exceed even those of the Imperator himself."

Again, Arran creased his brow in thought. "Any connection to Lord Rannoc or Lord Kadun? Lady Raina, perhaps?"

Although Arjun gave him only a blank look, Barric shook his head. "Lady Zareen has no need for factions. She’s wealthy enough to buy any allies she needs."

For some moments, Arran considered the situation. "I suppose there’s no avoiding it, then," he finally said. "Tell Kaleesh where I am when you see him."

Though Arjun gave a concerned nod, a grin flashed across Barric’s face. "You should try to leave a good impression. Marry a woman like that, and you could buy your own city."

When Arran returned to the mansion some moments later, the Knight — if that was what the man was — gave him an impatient glance. "All done?"

"All done," Arran confirmed. "Lead the way."

His escort wasted no time in guiding him through the city, and it wasn’t long before Arran realized that this time, nobody tried to stop him. Perhaps it was his companion’s status, or perhaps it was the hint of danger in the man’s eyes, but either way, they passed the streets of Knight’s Watch undisturbed.

The man did not speak as they walked, and Arran made no attempts at starting a conversation. Still, as they silently passed through the city’s many streets, he soon began to feel that there was something strange about his companion — as if there was something slightly unnatural about him.

It was only when they had already entered the upper levels of the city that Arran finally realized what it was that felt off about his escort. He’d been distracted by the man’s Living Shadow dagger, but now, he realized that to his Sense, the man somehow appeared blurry, almost as if he wasn’t completely there.

Yet although Arran pondered the matter as they continued onward, he could not find a satisfying explanation. The only thing he could think of was that it was some Darian bloodline he had not encountered yet, but what sort of bloodline it could be, he did not know.

They finally came to a halt near the uppermost level of Knight’s Watch, a mere stone’s throw from the Governor’s keep. Before them lay an estate with walls high enough that Arran could not see what lay beyond them, along with a massive wooden gate that was guarded by half a dozen Rangers.

"We’ve arrived," Arran’s escort announced. He motioned for the guards to open the gate, and as they stepped inside, Arran saw that the walls held a sprawling and meticulously maintained garden, at the center of which stood a single building — a mansion so large it almost resembled a palace.

The man led Arran to the mansion, but as they reached its doors, he came to a stop. "My mistress awaits inside," he said. "I shall remain here."

Arran briefly frowned, but quickly decided against asking any questions. Though he did not fear his escort — not exactly, anyway — the man hardly seemed like he would make for pleasant dining company.

As Arran opened the doors and stepped inside, he was greeted with the sight of a large hall, gaudily decorated and filled with the bustle of at least two dozen servants.

He was immediately approached by one of them, a young woman with friendly eyes, wearing a simple dress and a white apron that bore several stains. "You must be Arran," she said, giving him a warm smile. "Follow me."

She expertly guided Arran through the mansion’s many hallways, and some minutes later, they emerged in a small but elegant dining room with a half-set table and two empty chairs.

"Please, take a seat," she said, disappearing through the doorway barely a moment later.

Understanding that his host would be late in arriving, Arran decided there was nothing for it but to wait, and he sat down in one of the empty chairs.

He waited for a good quarter-hour, but although the maidservant appeared twice more with large trays of food which she deftly placed on the table, there was still no sign of his host.

Yet when she appeared a third time, Arran saw that she was no longer wearing her apron. And as she sat down in the chair opposite his, he looked at her with some surprise.

"You’re Nisra," he said, finally understanding the situation. Then, with a look at the food, "You cooked this?"

"I am, and I did," she replied with an amiable smile. "Consider it repayment for having you hauled to my estate." She gestured at the food, and continued, "Please, help yourself. We can discuss the people who’ll try to kill you once you reach Sacrifice while we eat."