Chapter 50: The Key

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: The Key

The ache ran deep along Allan’s left side. It ground with every breath, like someone had grabbed under the bandages with a tight grip. He had already learned how far he could turn before the pain could catch up, and it was not far.

The three women stood in a tight half-circle in front of the cot, waiting. Lira’s light brown eyes stayed locked on his face. Seris shifted her weight off the bad leg without seeming to notice. Amelia’s hands were folded, knuckles pale.

They could move now, in some way. That was enough for Allan to train them.

"Starting today, I will properly teach you about combat. I am not talking about swordsmanship." he said, looking at Seris.

"Not witchcraft." he said, looking at Lira.

"And definitely not blood magic." he said, turning to Amelia.

Amelia and the others looked at each other, not able to comprehend what Allan was trying to say. "Then what will you teach us?"

"Combat," he answered. "How to fight with whatever you have. I will teach you weaknesses to tackle down: magic casters, fast pacers, strength-driven warriors, even titanic beasts. But..."

Pause.

"You will not question my ways."

Seris smiled, slightly excited, and she was not alone. Both Amelia and Lira were the same.

He stood. The ache flared hard enough that he had to breathe through it before he spoke. Standing made the point better than sitting.

"And you are not training to get stronger for its own sake. You are training to keep me alive when this makes me a liability." He tapped the bandage with two fingers. "When I cannot cover my own flank. When I drop. Clear?"

Lira nodded once. Seris’s jaw tightened. Amelia’s voice was soft but steady. "Clear."

"Lira. Your barriers and future visions will protect us, stopping anything before it ever happens. The absolute defense. From now on, your job in a real fight is my left side, before I even know I need it. You will cast it fast and tight. You will fail if you cannot automate your barrier and future visions."

"Yes!" Her expression did not change. Her fingers twitched once at her side. He filed it away and said nothing.

"Seris. You are still favoring that leg."

"I noticed."

"Then stop protecting something you already know is broken. Plant and swing like it is not there, or do not swing."

"That is not training. That is just telling me to hurt myself more."

"Do not forget what did I say?"

Seris sighed. "Yes, yes, not to object to you. But it hurts."

"No pain, no gain." he replied.

She held his eyes for a second, and with another sigh, she let it go.

"Amelia. You fight like a noble with clean directions and controlled force. Today you learn to kill with the same precision you use for forms. If someone is inside your guard, especially a man, hit his groin upfront."

Silence.

"My mother would have opinions about that." Nothing light in her voice.

"Your mother is not the one standing next to me."

"No," she said. "She will not, because she is dead."

Allan looked at her. "Are you fishing for sentiment? Sentiment gets people killed. I am not the only one who dies for the others anymore. Absorb that, or leave the yard."

"Oh, harsh." Amelia replied, her cheeks turning red. "But it is hot."

Allan ignored that comment. They crossed the grounds in silence to the private yard. High stone walls, packed earth, weapon racks along one side. No audience.

He took a practice blade in his right hand and ran all three together. Lira held his left. Seris circled the flank. Amelia pressed from the front. A delay in one became an opening for the others.

"Barrier." he ordered.

A dark shield snapped up a half-beat late. He leaned into it. His body could not push against it, but the blade scraped across it. Resistance pushed back through the hilt into his wrist, but he easily stepped through the shield, tearing it with his sword.

"Weak."

Lira puffed her cheek. "It is because you are high-leveled! You can destroy most shields with a flick."

Allan nodded with a smile and sheathed his blade. "What level are you now?"

"I have not checked yet. Maybe thirty-eight? I leveled up quite well during our time in the valley."

Thirty-eight. Allan did not know she was already that high. Normal humans would find it very hard to reach that level with just a couple of missions, only crossing level ten at best, but here she was complaining about crossing thirty-five.

"Hmm, what about you, Seris?"

"I am twenty-five. I only leveled up during our time in the dungeon. So very weak compared to Lira." she said, slightly shy.

"Yes!" Lira cheered, hugging Seris from behind. "Finally I am above you at something."

"Hehe, back away. Your chest is poking at me."

Allan did not wait for them and swung his sword at her right away.

"Allan?" She pushed Lira away and jumped back with a flexible flip. "Wh-what was that for?"

"See, even if you are low level, your body is fast and light. Dare I say, even more flexible than mine."

Seris looked at her hands, feeling her legs. He was right. The way she moved right there, she had never moved that way.

"I see." she said as she ran towards him. Her cut came in low on the same breath. Allan quickly broke his stance to block it. The movement pulled straight through the damaged ribs. A spike sharp enough that his hand flinched on the hilt. Small. A quarter second. Lira saw it and smiled. Her barrier came up a fraction faster on the next pass, covering something she had not been told to cover.

Amelia’s blade found his exposed back in the same exchange and came near a finger’s width from his throat.

Allan’s sixth sense reacted hard, snapping Amelia’s blade with his dagger and tearing the shield, using its remnants against Seris.

"You girls tried." he said, pushing all of them a couple of steps.

"That was close. I will give you all that," he said, breathing harder than he wanted. "Again. All three."

They ran it again. Seris planted through the bad knee this time. He saw it want to buckle. She forced it straight through sheer will. Half a step slower coming out of it, but she came out of it. Amelia’s next combination came in wrong on purpose. Elbow out of alignment, weight on the back foot, a cut that would never survive a court instructor’s eye and would open a throat just fine. Lira’s light rose before Allan had finished his turn, catching the blade a full half-second early.

Four rounds in, sweat stung the wound under the bandage. His breathing had gone ragged in a way he did not like them seeing. But they had stopped watching him for the opening. They were watching each other now, catching the gaps he left before he had finished leaving them.

It lasted about that long before the crystal communicator flared blue at the edge of the yard.

Lira’s barrier collapsed mid-form. The dark shield guttered out. Seris’s blade stopped and dropped, exact, half an inch. Amelia’s spine straightened into court posture before her face caught up.

"Allan of Arclight. Your presence is required at the capital within three days. The matter is not optional. I am coming there. Be ready."

Allan filled with sweat, his breathing heavy, lowered his blade. "Three days. Too soon."

The Viscount arrived within minutes, face carefully and utterly neutral, but that face changed immediately after he saw his daughter.

"My love," he called, hugging Amelia. "Why do you still deny me? I told you it is dangerous here."

"No, Father, I am much safer here with Allan. You already know how strong he is."

The Viscount turned to Allan, already not impressed by how his daughter was getting attached.

"I hope you are not taking advantage of my dear daughter." he stated.

Allan gave a small bow, a worried bow. "Of course, Lord Arclight. I would not dare. Why do not we sit and talk before we go?"

The Viscount nodded. "The meeting includes both the Duke and myself. You will travel with a full escort." No pause for a response. "And regarding Kael’s cult. Our combined resources found nothing. No names, no locations. Every lead ended in silence or somewhere planted for exactly that purpose."

Lira’s hands curled into fists hearing that, while Seris stared at the ground.

The Viscount took out a long, rusty key. "This is all that survived. The key was inside Kael’s desk. I asked around, but no one seemed to recognize it."

Allan picked it up with his uninjured hand. The weight of the metal against the crude curves. He kept looking at it when it hit him. He had asked Kael to search for a key.

She found it, he thought.

"I will look into it. Why do not I take it for the time being?" he asked.

Both of them entered the manor, half in repair, as the Viscount sat on the sofa.

"Okay, take it for the time being. It does not have any use for me." the Viscount replied, laying back a little.

"Okay, I will get ready then," he said, taking the key to his room. "Seris, pack up my luggage please."

He closed the door and took out the cloth from his desk, the same cloth where the dragon sketched the key. He placed them side by side and observed carefully.

"Holy mother of god. It is the key."