Chapter 15

When Loyalty Falters

For the next few days following Sylas’ reveal to the Prince, and prior to the Baron’s arrival, the former continued to goad the young Valen into thinking Baron Cyrs was the penultimate villain, the bad guy among the bad guys. Even though, in reality, Sylas wasn’t even certain of the exact amount of involvement the man had with the whole thing, it didn’t matter. He realized he’d likely require another restart, if not even a few extra ones after, and decided to play it hard-by-the-heart this go-around.

Whenever the Prince would probe deeper into the issue, such as for the Baron’s motives, Sylas kept it incredibly vague, weaving and dancing around the issues until the Prince was absolutely certain of the Baron’s crimes. Sylas referenced ‘past ills’ and ‘injustices’ and ‘being sent so far away from everything’ as some of the reasons, though never going into details as details were the death of a con.

By the time the Baron and his family were to return to the castle, Valen was fuming, having gathered over twenty of the most experienced guards to wait for the entourage and arrest them immediately. Interestingly, Sylas mused, Tebek was among the guards; since Sylas didn’t really leave the warm quarters, he wasn’t aware of how the man was faring. From the exhausted look and the bags under the man’s eyes, it was evident that he was not holding up well.

Sylas shrugged and decided to let it be; he effectively had a noose around the man’s neck and could tighten it whenever he wanted t with some blackmail. It was always better to have an extra pawn rather than to be missing one.

Just the same as before, Sylas imagined as he wasn’t actually here when it happened, six horse-drawn carriages, each pulled by at least two and at most four beautiful, large, brown stallions, strutted in through the open gates. Peaking from beyond the curtains of the leading carriage was a familiar face that Sylas had goaded into killing him just a ‘week ago’—Baron Cyrs himself. A look of shock and confusion was evident in the expression, as though his mind was having trouble processing what his eyes were seeing.

He didn't even seem to realize that the entourage was slowly being encircled by the guards as he stepped out of the carriage, still appearing quite dazed. Once the guards, however, effectively blocked him and his family, he was finally woken from the haze, his expression turning cold as he glared about. Quite a few guards got startled, but they held their ground. No matter how important a Baron was to commoners like them, Prince… a Prince was a figure of beyond.

“What is the meaning of this?! Are you fools attempting mutiny against your Lord?!!” the Baron roared angrily at the guards, his voice bellowing out throughout the castle.

“No,” Prince Valen finally stepped out, drawing the attention and ire of the Baron toward himself. “Baron Cyrs Bendor, first of your name, I, Sixth Prince Valen Desdor, third of his name, charge you with the act of treason, oath betrayal, anti-crown sentiment, and conspiring with foreign forces to undermine the Ethernia Kingdom’s authority. Please do not resist—otherwise, we shall use force.”

“S-sixth… sixth Prince?” the Baron mumbled, carefully inspecting the youth that stepped out. He had, in fact, seen the Prince once—it was during the Coronation of the Crown Prince. Since it was from a fair distance, however, he didn’t immediately recognize the youth—additionally considering the fact that the rumor was that the Sixth Prince was dead—but upon closer inspection… he was certain. The man in front of him was, in fact, the Sixth Prince. His world spun in that instance, a thousand thoughts overflowing his mind. “Y-your Highness!” he immediately fell to his knees. He immediately understood the general framework of what happened.

He also understood that this was the end of him—he had been played, by everyone. The Sixth Prince… he hid deep. Waiting. Biding his time. All to unearth the scheme. At the moment, not of that mattered to him, however.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he now roared at the dazed members of his family who were still standing and looking about like confused sheep. Their lives were now entirely in the Prince’s hands, and even if he was going to die—of that he was certain—he at least had to ensure that some of his children live on. “Kneel before His Highness!!”

“…!” the man’s even louder roar seemed to finally awake them as they hurried down to their knees. They didn’t even care for their fancy clothes, willingly dipping them into the muddy ground and likely destroying them forever. The word ‘Prince’ carried that much weight, after all.

“You shall be escorted to the dungeon,” Valen continued coldly. “And until we determine the level of involvement of your family, they shall be confined to temporary quarters. Do you concede?”

“I concede!” the Baron exclaimed immediately. Luckily, it didn’t seem that the Sixth Prince was a bloodhound like most others; as far as the Prince treated him fairly, his family should live on since only his wife had some marginal knowledge of his actions.

“Guards, escort Baroness and her children to the secondary quarters,” Valen ordered a small group. “Baron, follow me.” At the same time he ordered Baron, he glanced at Sylas, a look of shock in his eyes. Baron’s behavior all but confirmed the Prophet’s words—the man was a traitor of all mankind.

Sylas, however, took that look as ‘follow me, let’s go’ and merrily joined the Prince, walking side by side. Almost immediately, gasps rang out like bells, causing him to pause and look about. Everyone, from guards to the Baron, looked at him with gazes of horror and shock, as though he'd just butchered their mothers. Glancing at the Prince, Valen smiled wryly and apologetically, hurrying forward as to create some distance between the two. It was also then that Sylas realized the error and sighed inwardly.

I’m a damn prophet! He grumbled, keeping a fair distance, however. And I’m being treated like this? Tsk, if it was a fair world, I’d be leading this damn thing! Shit, look at this Baron glaring at me. Motherfucker, don’t you think I’ve forgotten how readily you chopped my neck off. I may not have the stomach to pay you back, but I can twist your nipples till they turn purple.

Once a group of four, one which included the bellied Commander of the Castle Ardan, left everyone's eyes, Valen immediately stopped and turned toward Sylas, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“My apologies, Mr. Sylas,” he said, much to the shock and horror of two other figures nearby. Though Commander had some faint idea of Sylas, he certainly didn’t know that even the Prince himself treated the man so respectfully. “These customs should not apply to you, but—”

“No worries, no worries,” Sylas waved him off. “As I am so unconcerned by the mortal matters, I am not well-versed in most of these customs. Forgive me if I transgress.” The Baron and the Commander nearly barfed, however, since they swore they never heard a more disinterested and half-hearted apology in their lives.

“Of course, of course,” Valen smiled lightly; over the past week, he’d come to pick up on a few… oddities about the Prophet. However, those oddities only served to convince him even more that Sylas was, in fact, a Prophet. The man was the pinnacle of an eccentric, after all. “Commander, I expect a certain level of discretion.”

“O-of course, Your Highness!” the bellied Commander immediately nodded, swearing up and down inwardly he’d treat the strange man as though he were his grandfather.

“Mr. Sylas is a man of God,” Valen continued walking and talking at the same time. “It was his selfless advice that helped us prevent the Ghouls from taking over.” Valen kept it vague enough, Sylas realized, so that he didn’t explicitly state and claim Sylas to be a Prophet—since that could be seen as an act of heresy against the Church—and didn’t even involve him in the whole Baron business. Though young and naïve, at least the Prince knew how to operate the muddy waters.

Eventually, the group reached the dug-in dungeon, set a whole set of stairs below the ground in the dark and damp corridor. The solitary source of light was the torches, though even they barely managed to beat away some of the encroaching darkness. As soon as the Baron was locked inside one of the empty dungeons (Sylas was surprised to find that of the ten rooms, seven actually had at least one occupant), the Commander left the group, knowing full-well that it was his job to curtail the gossip horrors that likely emerged above, on the surface.

Meanwhile, Valen and Sylas remained standing in front of the dungeon cell, staring at the downtrodden Baron.

“I ask you this, Baron Cyrs,” Valen broke the silence. “Did you abandon your humanity?”

“… no, Your Highness.” The Baron replied after taking a deep breath, likely realizing that his tale would determine both his and his family’s fate.

“Then, I ask you this, Baron Cyrs—is handing over a castle of your fellow men to hellish Ghouls not you abandoning your humanity?”

“No, Your Highness,” the Baron said.

“Then what is it, Baron Bendor?” with the increased chill in his voice, Valen began referring to the Baron with his family’s name, clearly unhappy with the man. Sylas almost wanted to whistle with how impressed he was; the Prince around him was a loose and chirpy and an awkward man for the most part, but everywhere else, he always showcased the true bearing of a Prince.

“It was a betrayal, Your Highness,” the Baron replied hurriedly. “But not of humanity—just of our Kingdom.”

“… elaborate.” Valen also seemed to have realized there was a story there, and since Sylas’ explanations were always vague, he hoped he’d finally get a full picture from the Baron himself.

“As you may have guessed it, I did not drag my family and come here of my own heart, Your Highness,” the Baron said. “No man, sane or otherwise, would. This place… this place is haunted by hundreds of years of misery and agony. It is where families send their sons to die, even if they claim they send them here to defend the Kingdom.”

“…”

“I was forced here,” the Baron continued, bitterness emerging in his voice. “But not because I betrayed the Kingdom or even committed a crime. Your mo—khm, Her Majesty,” the Baron quickly corrected himself when he recalled that Valen’s mother certainly wasn’t the queen. “As you know, annually visits lesser estates as a form of relaying honor to them. The chosen family becomes a symbol, then, since the Queen herself visited them and blessed them.”

“…” Valen nodded. That was, indeed, the case. It was one of the many ‘rituals’ that the Royal Family used to maintain its grip on the Kingdom.

“Well, Her Majesty, turned out, liked my estate,” Cyrs added. “She liked it… a lot. So much so, in fact, that she implied she’d like it as a gift, house, ranch, servants, and all.” She didn’t… “When I failed to pick up on the hint, she left displeased. A few days later, Imperial Writ was declared—my family was charged with improper behavior against the Queen, and our estate was being confiscated while we were being exiled to the Castle Ethwar for ten years.” She fuckin’ did. “I did not betray humanity, Your Highness,” the Baron reiterated again. “I betrayed the Kingdom… because the Kingdom betrayed me.”