Chapter 59

Bonds

Sylas sat in yet another meeting, this one determining the final preparations for their trek toward the east and the camp. They got the exact location from Tebek, and even the rough estimates on the number of men there—some eighty able-bodied men and some twenty-thirty cripples, women, and even a few children.

As always, Sylas took no part in preparations—merely minding his own business on the side. By now, he'd calmed down considerably—was a rabbit, in fact, compared to the first return. Recalling the few things that he said, he truly wanted to reset the loop but felt it was a waste. After all, he had further worked on his body, even testing out the Heart's Ripple ever so often.

What made him squeal in joy weren’t the skills apparent applications in the battle itself—but outside of it. As it stood, he could easily hear how someone’s heart behaved if he concentrated—especially if he pulled a bit of energy he was able to muster and maintain into his ears. Though this in and of itself said practically nothing, with his lifetime of experiences, he was easily able to read the meaning of whichever song the heart was singing.

Leave it to me to turn a magical ability into yet another tool for conning, Sylas sighed, shaking his head. Beyond the attack on the east, which Derrek was also participating in—excitedly so, from the look on his face—he was yet to confront the man about Dyn and try and earn his trust. Derrek was another key figure Sylas wanted to bring over—effectively for the role he wanted Dyn to have initially. He wanted to build the Prince’s estate slowly but surely, ‘polluting’ it with quality men and women who knew what they were doing.

Though Derrek’s general personality was suspect, as the man seemed to have an ego of a hundred others combined, his knowledge, position, and likely strength were more than enough to make up for that deficiency. Ah, I can delay it for a bit. I really don’t wanna deal with him just yet…

Sylas counted back, realizing that Valen’s group was growing quite considerably—what started with just him turned into an experienced Captain in Tenner, a talented, up-and-coming Exorcist in Ryne, and potentially Derrek who was… something. A Knight of an Order, and likely more. Perchance quite magical, Sylas mused. There was also Baron Cyrs in charge of the castle’s logistics, who seemed to have somewhat recovered his spirits by tossing his all into work.

All in all, the camp, though small, was concise and diverse. In fact, it seemed too concise and diverse. Once again, Sylas grew suspicious—the timing and the place and the circumstances within which he was dropped… it was like they were all tailor-made. After all, an Exorcist just happens to walk into the castle and happens to have some serious daddy issues? A corrupt Baron just happens to have a soft heart ridden with guilt and happens to be easily exploitable? A Moon Knight just happens—

“Sylas? You there?” Sylas focused back on the meeting, realizing that all eyes were on him for some reason. The one who spoke was Valen—with the Prince’s odd gaze at him, Sylas smiled sheepishly before replying.

“Here, here, my dearest Prince,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you have anything to add to the plan?” Valen asked with a bitter smile. He’d long since realized that Sylas checked out of these meetings immediately, but still felt compelled to ask. After all, there were many faces here—he wanted to let them all know to respect the slightly strange and offbeat ‘advisor’ by the Prince’s side.

“No, it’s a majestic plan, befitting of your majestic countenance!” Tsk, Valen clicked his tongue and looked away. “So, are we done?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re done,” Valen said, despite not being even halfway done. “Go see Ryne and ask her if she can make some quick talismans for us. Just quality ones, if possible. If not, it’s fine.”

"At once!" Sylas stood up happily and left. He was beginning to doze off, and though he knew he likely should focus during the meetings and start learning… it was too boring, and he was but a one man. If his listening and learning mattered, he wouldn't be hellbent on gathering a nice camp for the Prince.

He hastily went over to Ryne’s workshop. Ever since his initial outburst, the young girl was a bit reserved around him. Sylas had to constantly remind himself that it wasn’t strange—after all, though in his mind he’d known the girl for over a year, she’d known him for a few weeks. Though he adjusted to the imbalanced relationship with others—including Valen—rather quickly, it was difficult with her. It was mostly due to the fact that no matter the loop, her treatment of him was usually the same. Except for this one.

Rather than busting down the doors and heading inside, he held himself back and knocked a few times. Some seconds later, Ryne opened the doors casually and smiled lightly when she saw it was him.

“C-can I help you?” she asked.

“The Prince sent me!” all else aside, Sylas still knew the perfect combination of words to immediately win her over.

“T-the Prince? P-please, come in!” Ryne, blushing as always, quickly opened the doors and stepped inside. “What… what does His Highness want?”

“A favor,” Sylas said, walking in as though he owned the place. “You’re aware of the… khm, hike we’re planning toward the east?”

“Hike?” Ryne looked at him oddly. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid.”

“… could have fooled me,” Sylas joked with crinkled lips. Ryne stifled a laugh, purposefully putting on an annoyed expression. “Khm, that aside.”

“That aside?”

“Prince asked me to ask you whether you’d be able to write up some talismans for us. Just a few of quality. If not, don’t worry about it.”

“When… when is this hike?”

“…”

“You… you don’t know? How… how could you possibly not know?!” she asked, appalled.

“I mean—it’s in the few days, weeks tops! Look, I… I tune out, alright? Those meetings… man, they get boring. And long. And boring.”

“You already said that.”

“Because that’s how boring they get!” Sylas exclaimed, sitting down. “Let’s say a few days. Cold Snap should be 10-15 days from now, so considering the time to get there and back… yeah, let’s say a few days. Is it possible?”

“Hmm… maybe,” Ryne said with a complicated expression. “But only a few… if I don’t sleep or eat—”

“They’re not that important,” Sylas said. “Valen values your health far more than a few talismans. Or a lot of talismans.”

“R-r-really?”

“I wouldn’t know. But it’s nice to see you’re really good at hiding your crush,” Wow, that was mean even by my standards…

“E-e-ehh?! My… my—how did you know?!” Ryne shot past the mean part quickly and quizzed.

“… I have eyes?” Sylas scoffed. “Anyway, believe it or not, I know a thing or two about talismans. Only basics, really—like rudimentary inscription and paper preparation. Maybe I could assist you a bit so to speed up the process?”

“Huh? You know how to prepare the paper? Really?” Ryne asked, clearly not buying it.

“Really,” Sylas nodded—after all, that was the thing she always taught him first and had him do for hours on end just so she wouldn’t have to. “I mean, I’m not fast, but I can prepare three-four papers in an hour. Should save you some time at least, I think.”

"Y-yeah! Yeah, of course! Wow, so you know how to clean the papers… who taught you? Or did you just pick up on it somewhere? Wait—was it the God?! Did… did God teach you so you can help me? Does the God—"

“Oi, oi, oi, slow down, slow down,” seeing that the girl was sprinting toward the places she shouldn’t, Sylas interjected quickly. “Do you really think the God would be so bored as to teach me some basic talisman inscription?”

“… no?”

“No.”

“Oh, no. Okay.”

“What? My help isn’t welcomed unless it’s facilitated by a God?”

“No, of course—I mean, yes, yes, of course it’s welcomed. Sorry, I got excited. I… I’ve never met a Prophet before. Well, I mean, I met them—it’s just that they weren’t real. But… you’re real.”

“Aye, I certainly am not an illusion,” Sylas said. “As the Prince would testify each time he went to the bathroom after me.”

“…” Ryne rolled her eyes for a moment, unimpressed by Sylas’ fourth-grade humor. “You know what I mean. You… see things. Hear things. My Master used to tell me that anyone claiming to hear God's voice was a liar and a cheat and likely wanted something from me. And, each time before, whenever I'd test these 'Prophets' they'd crumble. Show themselves as liars. But you… you're different."

“I’m hardly different,” Sylas said. “I just happen to be a messenger. Doesn’t make me a better person. I… I’m usually not like that,” he said. “Angry. Cruel.”

“No, no, it’s fine—”

“I’m not,” he interrupted. “But I’m still human, and sometimes… things get to me. I’m just sorry you were there to see it.”

“… no, it’s alright,” Ryne nodded lightly. “The vision… it must have been scary. Painful. Did you see someone die?”

“…” Ah, someone always dies, Sylas kept that to himself, however. “Anyway, where do you keep the papers so I can start while you go get us something to eat?”

“Why should I get us something to eat?!”

“It’s ‘cause you’re a girl and young people should always listen to their wise elders,” Sylas said.

“… the papers are there,” Ryne sighed, pointing at the nearby cupboard. “Be careful. Even with the Prince’s generous supplies, there’s still a limited amount. If you screw up any, I’ll… I’ll…”

“If you’re gonna threaten someone,” Sylas said. “At least do so with confidence and flamboyancy! For instance: you damned dog! If you so much as wrinkle one of my papers, I shall have you eat cow’s dung for days in the cold snow! See? Now you try.”

“I’m not—”

“Try.”

“Khm… y-you damned dog! If, if you so much as wrinkle one of my papers, I shall have you eat cow’s d-d-dung for days in the cold snow!!” Ryne exclaimed, red in cheeks, but feeling somewhat… empowered. She’d never cursed so boldly before, after all.

“Damn, that was good kiddo,” Sylas nodded in approval. “You’ve got potential. Stick by me and learn. One day, in the future, you too shall become a class-A bullshitter. Now go fetch us something to eat.”

“Y-yes!” Ryne exclaimed, running off. Wait, why did I sound so excited about becoming a bullshitter?! I don’t want to become a bullshitter! Alas, it was too late.