Knights Apocalyptica

Chapter 63: Brotherhood

“You’re much better off than when I last visited, thank the Goddess,” Bedwyr said, striding over to Erec’s side. Erec winced as he looked up at his brother—still wearing Armor. But then, he supposed, everyone would be. Now that everyone knew the White Stag was out there, there wouldn't be another slip of their guard.

At least, not until they got back inside those giant steel walls. Even then, anyone who saw the horrible monster wouldn’t sleep easy.

Erec’s head spun, and he closed his eyes. Not responding to his brother for a moment. Hatred flared at the very sight of him; was it his, or was it the beast inside? Or the Stag? It felt like that monster pranced in his mind with the freedom VAL had.

For so long, his ability to retreat to solitude had been stripped away, and he’d accepted it bit by bit.

Where had the fight gone? Was the constant exhaustion enough to bury it deep in him?

There was a stale smell in the air, mixed with sour herbal poultice and the faint scent of sweat. Awful. He wanted out of this tent to be free beneath the great blue sky again, an endless blue that stripped him of these toxic thoughts and made him feel like more.

“Erec?” Bedwyr asked; his brother had gone off on some tangent, but the words were only a buzz in Erec’s ears. Focusing on his brother again, he discretely wiped the blood on his palm on the underside of the sheet, better for Bedwyr not to see. With enough time, Erec would be back to normal. No one, especially not his brother, needed to know how close to the edge Fury had taken him.

“What is it you want?” Erec hung his head. “I’m fine, don’t you see? Glad you checked up.”

“Where did you learn to lie like that? Father?” Bedwyr sat next to him, taking his helmet off in one smooth motion. With a steely gaze, he held Erec’s eyes. An easy focus point when everything else was so blurry. “I saw you fight, Erec. We fought together. Do you remember that?”

“I do.” How could he forget the feeling? The pure euphoria of another dedicated warrior, though at the time it was impossible to recognize him as his brother—Erec shook his head, letting the thoughts drift away. It’d take time to come back together, but he should be grateful that it was still a possibility. “You fight well. I see why you’re popular.”

“That’s what you got from that? Goddess above, Erec. You shouldn’t have been capable of fighting like that; seeing you like that made me think you were almost a monster in Armor. Aside from me, I don’t recall anyone on that level in my first year—“

“Ah, aside from you.”

“Well, my circumstances are special.” Bedwyr frowned, his eyes flickering to Erec’s wounds. “…Though, to fight on that level, you paid a price.”

“We all do, in some way, don’t we, Bedwyr? Everyone except you.” The words came out as his head lulled and his vision dulled.

Slipping away.

I’m…

“…Erec, is that truly what you think of me?” The soft-spoken words from his brother were like an anchor to grip onto, a fight to keep him back on track. His fingers clenched the sheet as his knuckles went white.

“What else is there to think? My whole life, you were always moving two steps ahead for every one I took—always with a smile and friends at your side,”

Erec set a palm on his head as his skull throbbed, it wasn’t right to pick a fight here, and he knew that. But the words kept coming out, the resentment spilling free as much as the beast inside did when he let it loose from his cage; it was the only thing allowing him to keep ahold of this moment.

“I’m sorry for that.” Bedwyr’s gauntlet caught Erec’s wrist, freeing his grip on the sheet; the steel was cold, but the grip loose and more a gesture of kinship. “I didn’t mean to do that to you, to make you feel that way. I wanted to provide for our family, to use what I have to bring us back to a place of standing.”

“Ah, your grand plans for the future?” Erec asked, pulling his wrist free and breaking that physical contact.

“I wanted to allow you to do something you were passionate about below, somewhere safe. Maybe use my standing to let you marry a nice girl from the lower courts and let you build a life without the stigma of our name.”

“That’s not what I wanted.”

“I know that now. Anyone who watched you fight like that would know it—you aren’t meant for that kind of life, just like I wasn’t.” Bedwyr took a deep sigh.

“What life are you meant for? Why are you always so damn certain!? That—more than everything, that deep-set confidence that you can fix everyone’s problems and do everything, it pisses me off!” Erec’s spine jerked straight; his hand hit against the dirt next to him—he winced from the pain but fought off the sudden urge to call Fury. It'd be over if he let go of that discipline for a single moment.

“We’re more alike than you think. I, too, possess a Divine Talent that would’ve never allowed for that peace. It seared into me after Mom left. With power bestowed by Her, we are responsible for using it for those around us.”

“And just what is this power of yours?” Erec grit his teeth. This was it, huh? Was this the reason it was unfair? Because of that damned bitch in the sky? She got to decide who was better, who got to be a beast, who would die in a silver fire at her whim. Was that it?

“Balanced Growth.” Bedwyr checked the tent—the priest had left. “Every time one of my Virtues advances, they all do. To grow, I only need to break my limits in one. It’s an enormous effort, but, when you have so many and only need to push yourself to overcome a single advancement—well, it adds up quickly after enough training and experience.”

“This world is unfair,” Erec shook his head.

“We were born in a world where monsters roam, and tears into other worlds let horrors spew into ours; nothing is fair, Erec. I’m sure many of your classmates are beginning to envy your own Divine Talent. She bestows upon a person abilities they’re meant to prove themselves with, a tool to help them overcome their own life’s challenges.”

“…I want to go back to sleep.”

“Oh,” Bedwyr cleared his throat, pulling back and putting his helmet back on. "I apologize for drawing out... anything. Please rest easy and recover."

Erec’s head hit the back of his pillow, vision swimming again as he breathed. How could a conversation take such a toll?

Luckily, his brother left after that.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Within a day, the caravan was back within the loving embrace of the Kingdom; thick steel walls penned them in and kept the world outside of their pasture. Safe. Somewhere past them, a malevolent White Stag plotted and played.

It only took a couple of hours to make it to the Academy, and Erec felt fine enough to join the caravan on the walk.

The Academy gave those that attended the expedition or the reinforcements a week to rest and grieve. After that, lessons would return to normal and prepare them for more war since there would always be another fight.

Erec hadn’t lost any classmates he knew. But Initiates had died. Knight Errants were slaughtered, like Sir Alister, and more than a couple of Knight Protectors had their guts spilled. Even a Knight Lieutenant now lay in a shallow grave.

It weighed heavy on Erec. If only he’d been aware, or—stronger. What if he’d had that gun in his hand from the start? Would he have been able to save Sir Alister? Even the priest realized that using such a tool was worth its sin in the face of such evil.

Boldwick vanished himself upon their return. Probably in his office, drinking away his pain. That, or plotting revenge against the White Stag with an obsession, that Erec understood all too well.

For his part, Erec used the time to recover. He rested, went on short walks with Colin—joked around with Garin, and borrowed a book from Olivia.

Four days later, he felt better, but as they lay on the dorm room couch, a notice arrived at their dorm. Garin went and collected the letter; the faculty posted one to every dorm.

He cleared his throat and read it out for everyone.

“’As of today, a monster described as the ‘White Stag’ has been confirmed to be acting outside our walls. After pouring over the information gathered by reports, scrying, and research, we believe the creature to be working maliciously towards humankind. Given an evaluation of its projected threat and capabilities, we have classified it as a Cataclysm-Level threat. We have good evidence to believe it not only possesses the ability to control other monsters but also to open Rifts.'"

Garin stopped reading and bit his lip. His eyes rescanned the last couple of lines on the paper.

“’In a month, all four Orders will be conducting a full-scale assault to hunt down this threat and kill it with the Kingdom's military. With unknown aims and a suspected high intelligence, it presents too high of a threat to trust the defensive capabilities of our walls. Waiting for it to attack presents a risk of significant loss of life.'"

“There hasn’t been any monster deemed that high of threat level since the time of the Rot Behemoth,” Olivia shook her head. “…Truly terrible.”

“We’ll be working with the army?” Colin asked, head tilting as a scowl showed on his face.

“It appears so,” Garin muttered darkly. “More people are going to die before this thing is over.”

“Goddess above, protect us.” Olivia steepled her hands and lowered her head.

Erec stared at the roof of their living room as Colin ran off to train

Shortly after, Garin let Munchy out of his room and let the little guy have free roam over the jungle overtaking half of the space. The fat squirrel tested a vine to see if it would hold its weight.

It didn’t.

Munchy fell to the floor and indignantly walked away to find his master, no doubt to beg for more food.

In three weeks, they’d have more battles. There’d be more blood spilled. All to hunt down the White Stag. Would this end it? Would they all make it through? He wanted it dead for all it’d done. For haunting his nightmares, for killing Alister—war. It was war.

And war was ever the same now as it was in history.