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Rise of the Archon: Book 2, Chapter 87
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 06:10:47 +0000 UTCFlynn waited until the guards straightened again, dismissed by some unspoken command, before he lowered the platform. I expected him to say something, but he walked away the instant his boots touched the grass without so much as a glance in my direction. After a brief pause, I followed.
I caught up to the light mage in seconds, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him with a firm, but not rough, tug. Flynn half-turned to face me, one eyebrow raised.
"Can I help you, little brother?" Flynn asked, the ghost of a smile at the edge of his lips.
I glared at him, then jerked my head in the direction of the forest.
"We need to talk," I said.
Flynn's eyebrows raised higher. "And you'd like to be alone for that? Planning to jump ahead of me in the line of succession, are we? You've taken to being a noble so quickly."
My eyes narrowed, and Flynn chuckled before walking past me and towards the treeline.
I had made my camp only a few hundred feet from the town, close enough that I could run for civilization but far enough to ensure some privacy. We made our way there, and I found that Fortunatus was awake, halfway through eating a bird nearly as large as him.
The feline's eyes flicked over to me, and I felt a brief moment of warmth and familiarity, which cooled in an instant as he saw Flynn. Open distaste flooded through our bond, tinged with something that might have been bloodlust.
I sent back what I hoped was a feeling of patience before turning to face Flynn.
"What the hell was that?" I demanded.
"I'm not sure what you mean," Flynn replied, a surprised look on his face.
"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."
"Did you not want to join my family? As I understood it, you were looking for protection, yes? What better shield is there than being second in line to a duchy?"
"We both know bringing me into your house didn't require such a step. You have another angle, and I want to know what it is," I replied, folding my arms over my chest.
Flynn's easygoing demeanor remained in place, but I saw a flicker of his true self beneath it.
"I told you once. I believe genuine excellence as a mage comes from challenges, not complacency. Not just as friends or allies, but rivals. I plan to reach the top, higher than anyone in history, and I think you do as well," Flynn held out a hand. "Now, we can. As brothers."
"You barely know me, and you're ready to call me brother? That seems...presumptive."
Flynn chuckled. "I think I've got a good handle on the type of person you are. Besides, we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."
Strangely, I couldn't detect a hint of overt dishonesty, even though he had to be hiding something. Flynn might just be an exceptional liar, but I had a feeling at least some of what he had said was rooted in truth. In my experience, this was the best way to make a falsehood believable.
I almost wanted to walk away. While I needed the protection and saw the truth in Flynn's words, I didn't appreciate the unseen threat that this arrangement represented. Flynn very well could feel that I was a similar kind of person with similar drives, all the while bearing malicious intentions towards me.
Still, a possible threat wasn't as bad as a real one. And the facts were that I would end up with a knife in my back if I spurned this opportunity. Besides that, the idea of learning the secrets that Flynn's family might have collected sent shivers down my spine.
I reached out and grasped his hand in mine, squeezing as I nodded once.
"Very well," I replied. "Brothers."
Flynn's smile returned, but it was both smaller and warmer than before, and he returned my nod before releasing my hand.
"Now, I'd recommend getting some rest. We need to head out at first light to get back home."
"Home?" I repeated.
"Of course! You didn't think we'd be staying here, did you? I'm very much looking forward to my own bed, if nothing else. Besides, we need to present my father with his newest son. He'll want to judge you for himself."
I stared at him for a few seconds, narrowing my eyes before replying, "You didn't tell your father about our wager, did you?"
"How could I? Long-range communication magic is tricky, and my talents lie elsewhere. Besides, my father trusts me enough to let me off 'off the leash' so to speak. At least for these kinds of things."
"Things like adopting disgraced servants of other noble families into his household?" I asked, not bothering to hide my disbelief.
Flynn shrugged, but didn't reply.
I didn't believe for an instant that the great Duke Sion would allow his only child and heir to galavant around the country without a means to contact him. However, that felt like a minor concern compared to the other, more obvious problem.
"You don't believe your father will accept your decision," I said.
Flynn didn't so much as bat an eye before replying, "No, I don't. Our family has always prized quality over quantity, and I doubt my father would care to change that."
"But...?"
"But," Flynn continued. "He respects talent. Ambition. If you can prove yourself, he'll accept my decision...to a point."
"So, all we need to do is convince your father, who is renowned across the kingdom for his magical talents, that I'm a mage worthy of his family? And I need to do this when you weren't convinced just a few weeks ago?"
Flynn smiled. "You proved me wrong a few times now. I'm sure you can do the same again."
I decided not to point out the qualitative difference between surprising a neophyte mage and a duke with decades of experience. I very much doubted Duke Sion would find a novel bit of spellwork or a sudden jump in power worth more than a raised eyebrow or second glance.
But what other choice did I have?
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then replied, "We leave tomorrow morning, yes?"
"That's right."
"Perfect," I nodded once, "Then until we settle in for the night, I want to know everything you can tell me about your father and his magic. If I'm to impress the man, I need to understand him."
We sat together for hours, going over everything Flynn was willing to tell me about not just his father, but his family in general. By the end of it, my head swam with details, many of them likely useless in the grand scheme of things. Still, what I had learned had more than solidified my impression that his father would be very tricky to impress.
When Flynn left to turn in for the evening, I spent hours longer going over my duel with the drake. It had been easier than expected, barring that brief hiccup with its breath attack, but I had still noted at least ten areas in which I could improve my magic. My spears were flawed, my control over my spells poor, and I needed to better integrate the arcane with the physical if I wanted my budding style to work.
But as I sat there working by firelight, something that I had long pushed out of my thoughts kept needling me. For a long time, the threats and problems before me had made it next to impossible to truly think of anything or anyone else, outside of my immediate perimeter.
Now that some of the danger had passed and a path forward, however narrowed, had appeared, those concerns and emotions had returned. And no matter what I tried, they wouldn't fully leave me.
The following morning, I stumbled around my camp still half-asleep, packing up my things before making my way into town with Fortuantus by my side. Flynn's—or rather our guards had already broken down anything worth bringing home, and most looked ready to set off.
The noble himself looked none the worse for wear and greeted me with a bright smile and two cups in hand.
"Tea?" he asked simply, holding out one steaming cup in my direction.
I almost refused, but accepted after a brief pause. Girem had warned me years ago never to accept drinks from untrustworthy sources, but the blunt truth was that Flynn wouldn't need poison to best me unless he was a much worse mage than I thought.
"Good tea," I muttered after taking a sip and scalding my tongue.
"Thanks, I brewed it myself," Flynn waggled the fingers of one hand. "Everyone needs a hobby."
We stood there for some time, sipping our tea and watching the others pack up the camp around us. After a few minutes, I put words to something that had been bothering me for some time.
"Apologies...but I need a favor from you."
"If you're going to ask me what spells my father uses again, I can tell you the same thing I did the last ten times you tried," Flynn replied without looking at me.
"No, not that. I wanted to send a few long-overdue letters. Can you help me?"
Flynn finally looked towards me. He seemed to weigh me for a second, then nodded once.
"I'll get some paper."
---
Amelia stared at the envelope sitting on her desk. It had arrived earlier that day, ferried by a messenger and hand-delivered to her door. That by itself was strange, but also the least bizarre thing about it.
The back was sealed in golden wax with a symbol of a shining sun intercut with a sword. She had recognized that crest in an instant. The Sions were famed, though Amelia's mother had claimed their star was fading with only two full members left of the main family.
Had that been the extent of it, she still might not be that thrown off. Curiosity would have gotten the better of her, and she would have opened the letter and been done with it. But it was the handwriting on the front, her name written in short, neat, almost cramped lettering, that had stopped her in place.
When Vayne had left, she had expected to see him again. She didn't know when, but she thought-no, she knew he'd visit or send a message. Something to tell them that he was alive and well.
But weeks passed, and no message arrived. Then weeks turned into months, and rumors began to spread of an Aether mage traveling through Ferris, embarrassing young nobles in duels. She remembered the frustration that he hadn't contacted them, which had warred with an understanding in the pit of her stomach that she had no right to be annoyed.
Those stories had soon dried up, and with them came a new worry. Amelia had wondered if he was dead, killed by a bested opponent who had taken their friendly matches far too seriously. She had done some digging, asked questions, and tried to uncover what she could, but there was nothing.
After a year, she was sure he'd died. They'd mourned, some more than others, but there was only so much time that could be spent wallowing in grief.
Now, when she had a letter before her, she hesitated. This was proof that Vayne was alive and well, and maybe an explanation, yet she couldn't bring herself to open it.
Amelia took a long, deep breath, letting it out before picking up the envelope. She had a fingernail under the wax seal and was about to break it when there came a knock at her door.
Placing the envelope down, Amelia stood and crossed the room. When she opened her door, she found Leon standing outside.
The noble's expression struck her, as they had many times in the past year. Leon had taken Vayne's departure hard, and their intensive training in the time since then hadn't helped. Leon was still himself, generous and kind at heart, but that easygoing expression he used to wear at all times had vanished.
Now, he far more resembled the stern noble heir that Amelia might have expected. He stood tall, his eyes stern and his aura a tightly controlled storm of wind mana tinged with something else. She still didn't fully understand what Leon's tutors had done to him, but at times, his magic felt as though it was blended with other elements.
"You're late for training," Leon said simply, and Amelia realized the wind mage wore thick clothes made of magically reinforced fibers. His bow was slung over one shoulder, and the fletchings of arrows stuck out from behind the other.
"Right, sorry, I was..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Come in. I need to get ready."
Amelia stepped aside, and Leon walked past her and into her room. He folded his arms over his chest, and she smiled before stepping into her bedroom to get changed.
When she returned a few minutes later, Leon had wandered over to her desk. He held the envelope in his hands, his eyes fixed on the name written on its front.
"When did this arrive?" Leon asked, his voice tight.
"Earlier today."
"I got one as well," Leon said after a few seconds.
"Are you going to read it?"
"Are you?" Leon countered.
Amelia considered it for a long time, chewing on her lip before slowly shaking her head.
"No," she said, "At least, not yet. He...Vanye could've sent some kind of message earlier. He should have. I know things didn't end well, but..."
"Yeah," Leon nodded. It wasn't much, but that single word carried a measure of understanding in it.
A silence fell over the room. Amelia couldn't say how long it stretched before she shook her head.
"We'd better get down there before the others get worried," Amelia said, breaking the silence.
"Right, right," Leon nodded, forcing a smile to his face.
Leon crossed the room and opened her door, turning towards her and seeming to consider something before sighing and walking out without a word. Amelia followed, pausing just long enough to snatch up her staff from where it stood against one wall.
As she went to close her door, Amelia paused just long enough to look at the envelope one more time. Then, she let out a breath, shook her head once, and pulled the door shut.
Comments
Diarmadhi
feels like everything is really coming together. these periods of vayne in isolation with tangible goals blending into more social encounters has been really nice
Dev Rez
appreciate the rare POVs. tftc
