Remedial Magic: Step by Aching Step, page 23
A dark thought cropped up in Minerva’s mind as she looked to Sir Waltin again, his face still pinched with worry. Why was he so insistent that she run away? Was he a part of...?
Oh, gods damn it! Minerva had spent her whole life embroiled in politics, and the constant subterfuge and backstabbing of their three countries had forever ruined her belief in most people. But jaded as she might be, she couldn’t afford to doubt her own people now. Not with death nipping at their heels.
“I will fight and die for you, your majesty. You need only ask,” Minerva’s bodyguard stated. It was the first thing the woman had said this entire time, and it was probably meant to make Minerva feel better, but it had the opposite effect. That was, by far, the worst part of being an empress. She had sent young men and women to their deaths far too many times simply at her say so. Why should they die, barely older than children, while she lived on to be an old woman? Was it not her royal duty to preserve the generation that came after her? Could she only do that by paying with the blood of that very generation?
Minerva almost snapped at her bodyguard next, but she bit back her frustration and sighed. “Don’t say such morbid things, dear. We both need to make it through this. How could I face your father after you died for my sake? And after he begged me not to let you join my retinue.”
“How could I face my father if I let you die?” the woman countered. “I was aware of the risks when I joined against father’s wishes. I swore to lay my life down for yours, and I will carry that vow out if needed.”
Minerva looked through the visor of the woman’s helmet, even though her vibrant eyes were hidden in shadow. Yet another youngling would die for this old woman, one so full of promise and potential. Minerva just couldn’t let that happen. Not because of her own mistake.
“What would that boy you were so sweet on do? You said he always had a plan, that’s he’d fight until the bloody end, no matter the enemy. Would he run? Abandon everyone here and prioritize one life over a hundred?”
Her bodyguard didn’t answer for several long seconds. When she finally did, though, her words were a pained whisper.
“That’s not fair, Minerva.”
“No, it’s not, and I’m sorry. But I’m still going to take inspiration from him, all the same. The victor is not victorious if the vanquished does not yet consider himself so.” Minerva stopped moving long enough to force her bodyguard to do the same, placing both hands on either of her shoulders as she willed the young woman to heed her words.
“Live, Miraea. Protect me if you must, but live. I need my Angel and will continue to need her long after today. Your empress has spoken.”
Even without seeing her face, Minerva knew the woman’s normally stoic expression would be screwed up with emotion at such an order. But eventually, she dropped to one knee and bowed her head before the Empress of Rhagia.
“Your wish is my command, your majesty.”
Chapter 10
ALDRIC AND HIS INNER circle were outside the fort walls in a hastily constructed camp for the penal squad. His team had received a hero’s welcome from all his people the moment they’d returned. They were used to Aldric leaving for extended periods on dangerous assignments, but even he had to admit, this one had been particularly risky. Besides knowing how he and his inner circle were, everyone wanted to hear the story and had refused to leave him alone until he regaled them with the tale. Before he knew it, he had a bowl of stew in his lap and was sat around a campfire while over a hundred penal squad members surrounded him and his inner circle with rapt attention.
So he’d indulged them. It was mostly Talus spinning ludicrous embellishments as Aldric and Ida corrected him with every other sentence, but the squad ate it all up. It was well into the night by the time the story was finished. Aldric had been simply enjoying the moment of comradery, knowing that it did a lot for his people to have moments like this amidst all the bloodshed and suicide missions. Unfortunately, he’d overlooked someone, and that someone found him in the penal squad’s camp. Aldric’s moment of hero worship from his people abruptly ended as they all fled before the newcomer. They knew Aldric was in trouble the moment they saw the young man, and they suddenly wanted nothing to do with him.
Aldric’s normal confidence withered as he confronted his greatest foe. He was normally unflappable in almost any situation. And yet, there was one opponent that Aldric could never defeat.
“And the reason this infection in your arm is so bad is because you wasted all the healing scrolls I gave you,” Kedrin said in a deceptively calm tone. “Is that right?”
“Wasted isn’t the word I’d use,” Aldric argued. “More like I... repurposed them.”
“For blowing things up?” Kedrin clarified.
“Among other things,” Aldric hedged. He abruptly yelped in pain as Kedrin dumped an absurd amount of mana into his damaged arm. It healed the arm and combated the infection inside it, but it felt like Kedrin had just pinched Aldric’s mana pool.
“So, for blowing things up?” Kedrin repeated. The smile he usually sported was as sharp as a knife now.
“...... yes.”
Aldric’s inner circle all tried and failed to hide chuckles, and Daelus finally came to Aldric’s defense.
“To be fair, he did it for us. He used a good number of them when we got injured in a fire gone wrong. After that, we were a lot more careful and didn’t use them often. Besides, we rarely did any direct fighting. It was mostly hiding in shadows and harassing the enemy. The only reason his arm got infected was because of a dirty nail he brushed up against in one of the basement floors.”
Kedrin still frowned, looking unconvinced. “Many a man has been brought low by a simple infection that they ignored, and you all were gone for an entire week. If this had gone on for much longer, he could have developed sepsis. Aldric, I labored over those healing scrolls for ages just so you would have enough to keep you alive. I understand things happen, but you need to use them responsibly. Surely you’re clever enough to find a means of destroying many things without wasting precious resources?”
Aldric opened his mouth to argue, but Kedrin expected it and talked right over him.
“My healing spells, my rules. Next time, pack your own more efficiently. If you end up dying because you wasted my gracious gifts, I’ll find some way to resurrect you just to give you an earful before I send you off to the afterlife again.”
Aldric visibly sulked, realizing his friend had a point. Kedrin was probably the most kindhearted and affable man Aldric had ever met. That abruptly changed anytime someone he considered his patient was put into harm’s way. He only ever got like this when Aldric did something needlessly stupid that risked his health. Something he seemed to do a lot.
During the rest of his examination, Kedrin found a few more things wrong that weren’t as serious, though that didn’t stop him from giving Aldric a scolding for each one. When Kedrin finished his examination, Aldric’s inner circle was next. They mostly just had scrapes and bruises, though. He’d prioritized using the healing scrolls on them first. When Kedrin was finally done and looked at Aldric again, the visage of a stern healer had fallen away to be replaced by a concerned friend.
“I hate that this is the one thing I can do for you, Aldric. If I had any capacity to go out on these absurd adventures with you, I would. But until that day, please don’t make me need to worry about you any more than I already do. Can you promise me at least this much?”
Damn it. Kedrin had always been a master of guilt trips.
“Yeah, alright, I got it!” Aldric whined. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. And thanks for healing us all the time. We don’t know when Caffaret will call on us again, so it’s better to do all this now. I’ll need to put together more strategies tonight that we can use for when he does. I kind of exhausted my clever bag of tricks this time.”
Aldric had meant to make it sound like he was being cautious this time by making sure he planned carefully for the next mission, but Kedrin’s concerned frown didn’t go away. He eyed Aldric for a long moment before looking over his shoulder at the others and asking politely, “Apologies, but can you all give us a moment? I need to speak with him alone.”
Aldric knew he was in for something unpleasant and wasn’t looking forward to it. The others all leapt at the chance to not be lectured anymore and go back to the rest of the squad’s celebrating, abandoning Aldric to his fate. Kedrin took a seat next to Aldric on the log next to the campfire, staring into the flames as he clearly considered his words carefully.
Minutes later, he abruptly asked, “How long do you need to keep doing this?”
Aldric had been expecting another sermon on his personal health, so he was surprised by the question. “You know my goal,” he answered in confusion. “We can’t stop until we’re officially recognized as a legitimate part of the army.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“By embarrassing the hell out of Caffaret until someone else takes notice. If we can keep doing what he can’t, then someone’s bound to notice.”
“And if they don’t?”
“They have to, eventually.”
“They haven’t in five years, Aldric. Likely because Caffaret is covering it up and taking credit for your work. How much longer will it take?”
“As long as it needs to. We just need to wait for the perfect moment.”
“That’s not an answer —”
“That’s all I’ve got, Kedrin!” Aldric snapped. He immediately slammed his mouth shut again and stared at the ground, embarrassed with himself. “Sorry. I know you’re worried. But I have to do this. I can’t... I can’t go back until I do.”
Kedrin gave Aldric a sad look. He already knew Aldric’s story, so he didn’t need an explanation of where Aldric needed to go back to. Or to whom.
“I know you miss them,” Kedrin said gently. “But is there anything more to it?” Aldric looked at Kedrin in confusion, so he clarified. “I mean, why do you need fame to return to them?”
“Because they’ll be dragged down into shame with me,” Aldric answered, bewildered by the question. “I’ve already explained this to you. I can’t be with them if the shame of my family's name still hangs on me. You lived in Redan. You know what that pit of vipers is like. They’d take any chance to bring me and my friends low if I didn’t have some achievement that I could defend my honor with. Even after all this time, an attempted assassination of the empress isn’t easily forgotten. I will not be a burden on them like that.”
“Has that ever mattered to them before?” Kedrin asked. The question brought Aldric up short, and Kedrin continued before he could plan a response. “I admittedly have never met those two young women, but from you’ve told me, it never mattered to them you were from a disgraced house even before all this. Unless you’re saying that your father’s actions are unforgivable to them, and they have fully turned their backs on you?”
“No,” Aldric answered immediately, mostly because he couldn’t bear the thought of that being true. He wanted to believe that they understood, that they wouldn’t blame him for the actions of his family, but doubt ate at his heart. Years away had made the doubt worse. They were nobles, after all. It had been so long since he’d seen them. What would they think of him now? Was Aldric lying to himself?
Kedrin clearly picked up on Aldric’s doubt, because he gave him a knowing look. “I see,” he said simply. “So, it is required that you make a name for yourself to stand at their sides again, as you say. And staying in the penal squad, carrying out suicide missions day after day, is a requirement to do that? There’s no other way?”
Aldric’s confusion warped into frustration as Kedrin tried to dig deeper into his head. “You clearly have something you want to say, so just say it. You a therapist now, too?”
“Nope,” Kedrin answered easily, Aldric’s anger rolling off him like water on a duck. “Even better. I’m your friend. And as your friend, I have a theory that you likely won’t enjoy. I’m going to say it anyway, however, because I believe you need to hear it.”
Aldric hurried Kedrin up with an impatient hand gesture, wanting to get this over with. Kedrin remained quiet for a moment longer, then blurted out the last thing Aldric had expected to hear.
“I think you don’t want to go back. I think you want to remain in the penal squad forever.”
Silence descended on them both. Aldric could only blink stupidly at Kedrin, uncomprehending of where his friend had come up with such an absurd idea. He reflexively opened his mouth to deny it, but then he stopped. Something in his chest nagged at him and stilled his words. Kedrin saw the struggle on Aldric’s face and hurried on, apparently wanting to get his words out before Aldric could nay say him.
“Your whole life, you were told your family name was worth nothing, and that you were worth even less. Even your own family confirmed this bias against you, reaffirming it constantly as you grew older.” Kedrin looked to Aldric for confirmation, and Aldric could only nod mutely. “You held onto the belief that your mother would have been different, only to learn later that she felt the same as your father. The only people who ever believed in you at all were Zasia and Miraea, and you staked your entire self-worth on what they thought of you.”
Aldric didn’t confirm or deny that, simply saying nothing as he stared at the campfire in front of him. Kedrin took that as permission to continue.
“Now, however, their opinion is called into question, since you haven’t been in direct contact with them. As much as you want to believe in them, you can’t simply accept without hearing it from their own mouths that you are still worth something to them after your father’s betrayal. Never mind the fact that what your father did confirms, at least to you, what everyone ever thought about your family.” Kedrin leaned in close for emphasis. “And I can tell what you think of yourself now, even if you won’t admit it to me. You’re afraid that what this place has forced you to become is something they will be repulsed by.”
Aldric’s fists balled up involuntarily. Kedrin’s words were coming dangerously close to his own dark thoughts when he found himself alone with his memories. Kedrin noticed and seemed to move on to a different angle.
“Left to your own devices and with seemingly no one on your side anymore, you craved meaning that you normally would have gotten from your friends. You needed to belong somewhere and tried to find it in the military. And that same military once again told you that you are worth nothing by assigning you menial tasks and refusing to let you make a name for yourself. Until, of course, you found the penal squad. You finally meant something, so you gave your entire life over to it. You repeatedly put yourself in insane scenarios that no other member of the military would even consider as possible.”
Aldric was floundering for something to say, but he couldn’t. He felt like his soul was being unwound and displayed to him on a table. He couldn’t deny anything when it was so plainly presented to him like this.
“Your exceptional mind and talent have prevented you from failing as they would have,” Kedrin was still saying, “but I imagine that a healthy dose of luck was involved as well. That luck will not last forever. You will eventually hit a wall that even you cannot climb. I’m afraid you might try anyway, just to prove to others that you can, that you deserve to be known and respected. And in doing so, I fear that your desire to mean something to the rest of the world will get you killed.”
Kedrin paused just long enough to give Aldric a deep, measuring look, then delivered his finishing blow. “And I’m not sure you’d consider that a bad thing. A martyr must mean something to someone, after all.”
Aldric tried several times to get his mouth working and respond, but no noise came out. He suddenly desired nothing more than to be anywhere else right now. He didn’t want to talk about this. This was a stupid waste of time.
“I’m sorry to dump this on you all at once,” Kedrin said softly when Aldric didn’t respond. “But I’m not sure I can get you to really listen otherwise. You’d deflect everything with twisted logic or grim humor, assuming you didn’t just run away at the mere mention of it.”
Aldric visibly flinched, having caught himself just about to do exactly that with some sort of flimsy excuse. It simultaneously annoyed and comforted him that Kedrin had him so figured out by now. He sighed as he put his face in his hands, trying to organize his thoughts.
“I’ve explained this to you already,” Aldric began again, trying his best to sound reasonable. “All I need is recognition. I need something else for people to associate with me besides being a traitor’s son if I ever want to go back. Military accolades are the fastest way to make that —”
“What about you new spell paper?” Kedrin abruptly asked. Aldric stopped talking and stared in confusion.
“What?”
“Your new spell paper. I know you need my help to make it, but do you have any idea just how wealthy you could become by selling an invention like that? How much the magical world would change just from that single innovation alone? And gods know what else you could come up with given enough time and funding. You could easily build a reputation as a magical inventor. It even sounds like something you would genuinely enjoy.”
Aldric didn’t have a way of refuting that point, so he dodged it instead. “You don’t know that it would be that easy. Who would believe that I, a lowly sorcerer with a pathetic capacity for mana, could invent such a thing? Being a magical inventor would mean constantly dealing with nobles as well. And besides, your thinking is still wrong.” Aldric forced himself to laugh in dismissal. “I don’t want to die, Kedrin, if that’s what you’re implying. I very much want to live and have built quite the reputation for repeatedly succeeding at that. The moment I can go back without causing problems for myself or my friends, I will.”
