What Makes Him Strong: A Loric Talarius Story

Everything was burning. The trees that were not already black husks were engulfed in ravaging flames, creating a circle of fire that surrounded the once beautiful basin. Smoke rolled across the water before lifting into the air, leaving the area a hazy mix of steam and ash.

There was no sound. No birds called. No deer roamed through the thickets. No bugs chirped. The only thing that could be heard was the cackling of the many fires and the whisper of the wind that spread them.

Loric wiped the soot from his eyes and tried to collect himself. His arm still hurt and his leg still had a long gash in it, and though it was not bleeding, he could no longer move it. He must have broken it when he was tossed against the tree. Carlyle lay next to him, unmoving. “Carlyle. Wake up.” Two fingers to the neck told him the teenager was still alive, but it looked like he was not going to wake up anytime soon. A large bump on the back of his head explained why.

The young woman (Clarisse was her name, he thought) lay beneath him. Carlyle must have cushioned her with his own body. “That a boy,” Loric said quietly. She was breathing, and looked like she had escaped the worst of the blast.

Coughing the smoke and ash out of his lungs, Loric pulled himself up along the trunk of the tree behind him and got onto one leg, using his sword for support. It was difficult to see anything through the dark grey cloud that had settled in the air. Everything was so hot. The area had been turned into a smoldering hell in a matter of seconds.

Something moved at the base of the waterfall. A dark silhouette strode forward through the shallow water. In his right hand was a katana, the blade glowing red-hot as though it was just pulled from the forge.

What do I do? Loric had never seen anything like this. So much power concentrated into one weapon. His heart sank as it began to slowly march in his direction.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the man said. “If you’re still alive, that is.” Loric looked down at the two teenagers. There was no way he could get them out of there in time, not with his leg the way it was.

He could leave them. Carlyle was the target, and that monster probably would not pay Loric much attention if he left him and fled, at least not at first. Loric choked as much on the idea as he did the smoke.

No, his only option, it seemed, would be to try and get close to the man and kill him before he could strike again. It would be difficult, but with the smokescreen it was not impossible.

The Bull does not fear.

Loric swallowed his fears and doubts, gripped the hilt of his sword, and started to hobble forward.

***

One Day Earlier

“You should come shopping with me every week,” Simara said as she pulled a few pieces of orange fruit off of the vendor’s cart and tossed it into her bag. “It makes things a lot easier.”

Loric Talarius, twenty-three years old and proud Ko-Sai of the Silver Bulls, had been reduced to a bag boy for his younger sister. “Oh yes, this is so much fun,” he said. His arms were filled with sacks and bags, which in turn were filled with various foods and other goods that Simara had purchased.

His sister had really blossomed within the last year, changing from the shy young girl that still lived with her parents to the independent woman who lived on her own on the third tier of Silver City. Everywhere she went, she turned heads and garnered the attention of the town’s young men. Her dark-brown hair, in contrast to the white dress she wore, ran all the way down her back, swaying lightly with every step she took and drawing attention to her hips. Loric suspected that he was as much a bodyguard as a bag carrier.

“Maybe if you start paying me,” he said, smirking. “You do  make twice as much as me, now.” She had gotten a job at a high-end shipping firm a month ago, and their parents could not have been prouder. The last time their father used the word “proud” in reference to Loric was when he first passed his Rite and became a Ko-Sai…two years ago.

Simara smiled as she turned her head. “Please, I think I can afford better than—Loric?” She spun around, but her older brother was nowhere to be seen. “Loric?”

“Keep it down!” Loric was whispering, but still managed to be loud. He stood off to the side with his back to the white brick pillar of a men’s clothing shop, his grey shirt and brown pants not exactly blending in.

“What are you doing?” Simara could tell that her brother was hiding from something. She stepped past him and searched about the sea of faces. When she saw a familiar face, she smiled.

A young woman around the same age as she was examining a summer dress of dark red silk about a hundred paces away. She was about five and a half feet tall with very fair, chestnut-brown hair down to her shoulders. Her skin was pale and her face was adorned with enough light freckles to be cute without drawing too much attention.

Loric had moved his head so he could watch her from his hiding spot. This young woman had been haunting him for the past two years, ever since his Rite. Never before had one person filled him with such a dissonance of emotions: attraction, fear, compassion, guilt. They all bubbled from within when he saw her.

He was just about to start walking away when her figure was replaced by his sister’s face as she stepped in front of him. Her blue eyes were as sharp as ever. “I take it back,” Simara said. “I could definitely afford better.”

“You don’t understand,” Loric said, blushing.

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” She grabbed him and pulled him from the pillar. “You’ve been pining for this girl for, what? Two years now? And every time you have a chance to talk to her, you run and hide like a frightened puppy.”

Loric was silent for a moment. “You don’t understand ,” he repeated.

Grabbing both of his shoulders, Simara forced his face down to hers. “It wasn’t your fault, Loric. She doesn’t blame you for what happened to Otis.” Her voice was more compassionate now. “You know that.”

Loric stiffened. “Knowing that doesn’t make it any better. How can she ever look at me and not be reminded of her brother?”

“Talarius!” a new voice yelled. Duncan, one year Loric’s senior and fellow member of the city watch, shouldered his way through the throng of shoppers to the siblings. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We have to go.” The Ko-Sai was in full armor, his polished silver body glaring in the sunlight.

“I’m off today, Duncan.” Loric was back to being pressed against the pillar.

“Captain’s orders. Head home, collect your gear, and get to the station.” With that, he turned around and began to shove his way back through the crowd.

“Typical,” Loric said as he turned to face his sister. He unloaded her bags into her arms. “Sorry, but it looks like I have to cut this afternoon short.”

Sighing, Simara hugged her brother. “Fine. But this discussion isn’t over, not by a long shot.”

Loric squeezed back and went on his way, sparing only a quick glance back to the young woman holding the red dress.

In the past year, Loric had finally become accustomed to the weight of his Silver Bull armor. Sure, it was not nearly as comfortable as moving without it, but he had to admit, there was not as much need for quick movement in his job anymore. The armor, on the other hand, had proven invaluable on more than one occasion.

The metal made clanking noises as Loric and Duncan moved through the station foyer to Captain Vales’ office, a door along the north wall at the back of the station. Loric gave the door three sharp knocks.

“Come in,” said Vales’ voice from the other side.

As the two entered, the first thing Loric saw was the overwhelming frame of Taros, a master of the Silver Bulls, as he stood next to Vales. Though bald, he had a white beard that was braided into two pieces, each curved to look like the horn of a bull. He was an aging man, but his solid build and stern face made him one of the more intimidating men in Silver City. He rarely wore his armor since he retired from combat and began training Ko-Sai, this day opting for a sleeveless grey shirt and pants.

Vales was sitting next to him, behind his desk, looking a bit uncomfortable. He was a good-looking man, with pale brown hair that bordered on gold. On his other side stood a man that Loric had only seen in person once or twice. He was tall, like most Silver Bulls, but he seemed thinner, less bulky. Like Loric, Duncan and Vales, he wore silver armor and two swords, though the katana was not standard issue. Unlike the other three, however, a ceremonial silver cape hung from his shoulders down to his lower back: the cape of a master of the Silver Bulls.

“Boys, I believe you know Master Alaris Septis.” Vales motioned to the caped Ko-Sai. “Master Septis, these are Duncan Scardale and Loric Talarius.”

“A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,” Alaris said. He extended his hand and shook theirs.

Vales continued, “The Silver Bulls have been given an…interesting proposition today, one which we have chosen to accept.” He looked over to Taros. “Would you like to continue?”

Taros nodded. “An old acquaintance of mine, a resident of this city, passed away from illness last week, leaving his wealth and trading business to his sixteen-year-old son.” He cleared his throat. “Before he died, he asked a favor of me.” The old master’s eyes began to radiate a cold, steady fury. “He told me that he suspected that there were men in his company that were undermining his authority, working on some sort of takeover. He feared for his son’s safety in the event of his death.”

“Laws what they are,” Loric said, “if the son were to die, then his company would be open for takeover.”

“Yes,” Taros said, grimly. “That is why you’re going to protect him, and take out anyone who tries to harm him.”

Captain Vales cut in. “Of course, it would be inappropriate for even Master Taros to get the Silver Bulls involved in a personal matter.” He smiled. “Which is why we are being paid a sum of five hundred gold to keep him alive.”

Duncan coughed. “Five hundred gold? For babysitting?”

“The three of you will be bodyguards,” Vales corrected.

“Three of us?” Loric looked over to Alaris.

“I will be leading the team,” he confirmed.

I guess five hundred gold would warrant a master. “Do we have any idea who might be targeting the boy?” Loric asked.

“None whatsoever,” Taros answered. “It’s up to you three to investigate as well as protect.”

Alaris stepped forward. “That’s pretty much the gist of it, so if you will come with me, we can go meet our client and get to work.” He left the office first, followed by Duncan.

“Talarius,” Taros mumbled. “Stay here a minute.”

Loric froze. This was going to be bad. The two of them were never on the greatest of terms.

Vales looked from Taros, to Loric, then back to Taros. “Well, I think it’s time for my lunch.” He stood up and walked to the door. “Feel free to use my office,” he said as he left.

The door closed, leaving Taros and Loric alone in the small room. “I asked for you specifically on this assignment, Talarius.”

“Sir?”

“I think you stand to learn something from Master Septis.” He smiled. “You, of course, know of his reputation?”

“More or less,” Loric said. “Alaris the Drakeblade. Youngest Silver Bull to become a master, which occurred about a year ago. His sword has one of the highest offensive capabilities in the empire, with the power to throw fire with a swing.”

Taros grunted. “He may be the strongest man in the Silver Bulls. By the time that this assignment is over, however long that takes, I expect you will be able to see what makes him strong, too.” His smile disappeared. “You’re dismissed.”

Taros always had a strange ability to be both straightforward and quizzical at the same time. Loric left the office, more confused than he had been in years.

“Master Septis!” A young Ko-Sai in Silver Bull armor waved to the three of them as they strode down the street. He had probably just completed his Rite. “He’s inside.” He pointed to a small bakery. Loric could smell the aroma of cakes and other sweets clearly from outside.

“Thank you,” Alaris said. “We’ll be taking over from here. You’re dismissed.” The young Ko-Sai bowed, then hurried away. “Loric, watch the entrance. Duncan, you’re with me.”

Loric took his place at the entrance of the building, “The Honeybee,” and surveyed the crowd. He did not spend much time on the third tier of Silver City. Normally, he only came up this far to visit his sister. Everyone looked normal. Wealthy, but normal. Nobody was paying any extra attention to the bakery. Nobody was concealing weapons. Nobody looked ready for a fight.

“…delivered to my home, if you would.” This was a new voice. Alaris and Duncan emerged from the building, a young man of sixteen years between them. He was a frail boy, a head shorter than Loric without much muscle. His brown hair was short and combed, and he wore red robes that only a noble could afford. A pair or spectacles sat upon his nose, making his eyes look slightly enlarged. “I’m not going to have to walk between the two of you all the time, am I?” he asked as he bit into some sort of pastry.

“It’s best in crowded areas like this,” Alaris explained. “Less chance of someone who doesn’t have your best interests in mind getting close to you.”

“I just don’t see how it’s possible,” Duncan said, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. “How did you spend eight silver pieces on pie?”

“I bought a lot of poison berry,” the young man replied. He looked up at Loric as he chewed. “Are you one of my guards, too?”

Loric introduced himself. “I’m Loric Talarius.” He held out his hand.

For a brief second, the young man looked at his hand and frowned, as if he did not know what to do. He then gingerly gripped Loric’s hand and shook. “Carlyle. Carlyle Fontaine.” He released his hand and took another bite of his pastry. “So…you guys aren’t going to sleep in my bedroom with me, are you?”

“We will be taking posts outside your bedroom and patrolling the grounds,” Alaris said casually. “But we will have to search your room each night to make sure its locked down and that there is nobody hiding inside.”

“Oh,” Carlyle said. “Well…just make sure to give me some time to…to tidy up.”

Duncan and Loric looked at the boy with arched eyebrows. “Uh-huh,” Duncan said. Make sure certain things are locked away safely, eh? Maybe a few portraits of some scantily-dressed women?” He barked out a laugh.

Carlyle blushed and chewed his pastry with more vigor. “That’s none of your business.”

“In any case, shall we head to your estate?” Alaris asked. “We’d like to get acquainted with the grounds as quickly as possible.”

In an instant, Alaris’ sword was drawn. Metal clashed upon metal as he intercepted a blow aimed for the back of Carlyle’s head.

Carlyle spun, the color draining from his face as he saw the master swordsman locked in steel with a man of medium height and dressed in rags. “What in the-”

“Get down!” Duncan shouted as he pushed the young boy to the ground. His eyes locked on the man Alaris was currently trading blows with and he started to draw his katana.

The crowded street had become a madhouse, and it took all of Loric’s strength not to get swept away in the current of moving bodies. He could see Duncan pulling his sword, preparing to join Alaris. What Duncan did not see was the second man coming up behind him, scimitar poised for attack. Loric threw himself as hard as he could at the man and drew his katana in and upwards slash. The tip of the blade cut into the man’s arm at the elbow and traveled up to his wrist, causing him to howl in pain and drop his weapon.

Duncan spun at the sound of the man’s wail and slammed his pommel into his nose, making a sickening crunch that sent blood flying. The assassin crumpled to the ground, holding his face and moaning in agony.

Loric and Duncan took guard on opposite sides of Carlyle, who was doing his best to curl up and cover his head while he stayed on the ground. The street was empty now, all of the shoppers either inside buildings or far enough down the street where they would not be in the way.

All attention was now on Alaris and the man he was dueling. This man also had a scimitar, but his was much larger than the others. It was a black steel with a grey-wrapped handle. On closer inspection, Loric could tell that the man was neither Ko nor Vascian (the two major races in Silver City). He had dark-tan skin and jet-black hair, with a thin mustache and a short beard. Looking down at the bloodied man, Loric could tell that he was a foreigner, too.

Alaris was the taller of the two, but his opponent was far more aggressive. He swung his sword over and over, pushing Alaris back as his katana blocked the onslaught. “Not bad, for a Ko,” the foreigner said. “I’m going to enjoy slicing you and the boy to ribbons.”

Loric noticed the blade of Alaris’ katana start to faintly glow red. If that was not unsettling enough, Alaris’ eyes began to glow red, as well.

Duncan started to move towards the fight, but Loric grabbed his arm. “Wait a second,” Loric said. “Something is happening.”

“Stand down,” Alaris said, his blade and eyes growing redder by the second. “Or I will kill you.” Flickers of flame started to dance along his blade.

Apparently, this was enough to worry the foreigner. He leapt back and took a break from his barrage of attacks. “What is going on?”

The expression on Alaris’ face changed from angry to worried. He closed his red eyes and pulled his sword into a defensive position. He looked as though he were struggling to control himself.

The foreigner took the opportunity to lunge forward with is sword arm extended, attempting to run Alaris through.

At the last second, Alaris’ eyelids opened. His eyes were no longer red, and the glow on his sword seemed to have faded. The master shifted his sword and knocked the scimitar downward, followed by a vertical strike that sliced across the foreigner’s face, cutting into his left eye.

The man screamed and fell to his knees, holding his eye. “Y-You bastard!” he cried.

The tip of Alaris’ sword pressed against the foreigner’s throat. “Make one wrong move and I’ll end you,” he said.

A bead of scarlet trickled down the foreigner’s neck. “You don’t have the balls, Ko-Sai.”

For an instant, Loric though he saw the master’s eyes flicker red again. “Don’t push me.” He looked over at Duncan. “Restrain him.”

Duncan did what he was told, jogging over to the foreigner and tying his arms behind his back. Loric did the same for the partner, still lying in the dirt, clutching his bloodied nose.

“Carlyle,” Alaris called as he sheathed his sword, “do you recognize this man?”

The teenager picked himself off of the ground and brushed the dirt off of his red robes. He readjusted his glasses and peered at the two foreigners, first at Alaris’ prisoner, then Loric’s. “No,” Carlyle said, “never seen ‘em before. I’d recognize someone like these two. They’re so…tan.” He said the last word like it tasted awful in his mouth.

Alaris nodded to Carlyle. “Loric and Duncan will escort you home now,” he said. “I’ll join up in a bit.” He pulled a silver whistle out of his pocket and blew into it, creating a harsh sound that made Loric wince, despite having heard it many times before. Any Silver Bull in the immediate area would soon arrive at the summons.

Loric and Duncan took position on either side of Carlyle. “Let’s move quickly,” Loric said. “There might be more of them.”

“Just a few more minutes!” Carlyle shouted from behind the twin oak doors. Loric studied them up and down, noting the intricate carvings from old fables he had heard growing up: heroes slaying monsters, epic romances, soldiers falling in battle. A pair of doors like these must have cost a small fortune.

“We’re all men here,” Duncan said with a bellow of laughter. “A few lewd paintings are nothing to be ashamed of.”

Loric jabbed Duncan in the ribs with his elbow. “Take your time,” he said loudly, trying to be heard through the thick doors. “But try to stay away from the window.”

After about five minutes of listening to the sounds of Carlyle bustling about his room, the twin doors finally opened, letting a draft from the open window spill over the two Ko-Sai. Carlyle beckoned them inside. “This is my room,” he said, arms outstretched.

Judging from the sounds he heard while Carlyle was cleaning, Loric guessed that whatever the young boy was hiding was currently locked in his desk, which sat in front of the window. A large red bed sat against the wall to the left, covered in pillows and blankets, and cornered with four wooden bedposts that almost reached the ceiling, fifteen feet up. He walked forward.

The walls were adorned with various forms of art: paintings, weavings, and even ink drawings of various characters and scenes that Loric could vaguely remember from the old stories. It was definitely befitting a boy like Carlyle, he thought.

The desk felt smooth as Loric ran his hand across its surface. It had been sanded and regularly polished. If Loric saved up his earnings for the next thirty years, he might be able to afford something like this. Carlyle was watching him, demeanor calm but a hint of anxiety in his eyes. “Don’t worry, we’re not here to intrude, only protect,” Loric assured.

“What’s this?” Duncan asked. He was looking at a large pad of paper sitting on a wooden easel. Loric recognized it as an ink-painter’s sketchpad. Duncan casually flipped pages over the back. He stopped on the visage of young woman kneeling near a pond.

“Get away from that!” Carlyle scrambled forward and pulled the other pages back down over it. “That is not for your eyes!”

Duncan backed away, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He smiled as he saw Carlyle blushing. “Is that what you were hiding? Drawings of your little girlfriend?”

Carlyle muttered a string of curses under his breath, and what Loric thought was “just a friend.”

"You’ve got a hand for art,” Loric said. The subject change brought the red out of Carlyle’s cheeks. “Did you do the ink drawings on the wall, as well?”

“No, these were done by professionals,” Carlyle explained. “That one over there,” he pointed to a drawing of a hawk soaring over a valley, “was a gift from my teacher. He said it reminded him of me for some reason.”

“Must be the pointy nose,” Duncan muttered.

Carlyle narrowed his eyes at Duncan. “Don’t you have some patrolling or something to do?”

“We’re going to stay with you until Master Alaris returns from his interrogations,” Loric answered.

“What fun,” Carlyle murmured, rolling his eyes. He looked out the window in smiled. “Well then make yourselves useful. My pies have just arrived.”

The three of them spent the next fifteen minutes carefully hauling and storing pies, with the help of the Fontaine family butler, Rickard. He was a middle-aged Ko, somewhere in his early forties, with a tall, lean figure. He had black hair that was neatly combed back, and he wore a black and white ensemble befitting a house servant.

“Careful with that!” he yelled in his oddly high-pitched voice. It seemed out of place on a man like him. Loric would have guessed that he would have a deeper voice. “I swear, if the Silver Bulls were going to send bodyguards, I would expect some that could at least safely protect an armful of pies.”

“Sorry,” Loric said as he readjusted his grip on the four boxed pies he was carrying into the kitchen. He set them down on the countertop next to the cellar stairs, where the family kept its cold foods. “Say, how long have you been working for the Fontaines?”

“The past five years,” the butler replied, descending the staircase. “Why?”

Loric moved to the top of the staircase. “Do you have any idea who would try to usurp Carlyle?” he shouted down.

The butler sighed as he ascended with empty arms. “Lots of men would benefit from young Carlyle’s demise, but I never dreamed that someone would try it. He’s such a good lad.”

“Does anyone stand out in your mind?”

Rickard picked up another armful of pie boxes and sighed again. “I suppose the Fontaine Trading vice president, Jaxter Rhodes, stands to gain the most from the young master’s death.”

“Would he gain control of the company?”

“Most certainly,” Rickard said. “Unless, of course, the master’s will is recovered.”

“Fontaine left a will?”

Rickard cleared his throat. “None that has been found. Thus, the company defaults first to Carlyle, his last blood relation. After that, it would come to the board of directors’ vote, who would most assuredly give control of the company to Rhodes.”

“The will might also give control over to Rhodes, though. Carlyle is just a boy.”

“Possible, yes,” Rickard admitted. “But Mr. Fontaine was a very sentimental man, and probably left it to Carlyle.”

The voices of Duncan and Carlyle drifted in the room, arguing about something. “Two pies you’ve ruined,” Carlyle exclaimed. “Two entire pies! How can someone who uses a sword for a living be so bad with his hands?”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll wrap these hands around your scrawny neck,” Duncan muttered. “Hey, Loric! Can’t we find something better to do than carrying sweets? Doesn’t a place this big have more than one servant?”

“I let most of them go,” Calryle said, then added “with severance.” He set his stack of three pies on the counter, setting one off to the side and flipping it open. “With just myself living here, I don’t have too many needs. Rickard can handle most of it, and I don’t mind pitching in now and then.”

“The young master is not as spoiled as most of the little urchins in this city,” Rickard said, smiling.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Carlyle said, frowning.

“No, Duncan, we need to wait until Master Alaris gets her,” Loric said. “That way there will always be two people guarding Carlyle and one on patrol.”

A faint ringing sound could be heard coming from the front of the mansion. “That’s the front door,” Rickard said. “I’ll answer it.”

Loric looked at Duncan. “Go with him.”

“Gladly,” Duncan said. Loric had to admit, despite his hard head, Loric liked Duncan. Not only was he a better sword than Loric, but he was one of the few Ko-Sai that did not go out of his way to contradict him. Most other Silver Bulls would have laughed and told Loric to do it himself. Nobody wanted to take orders from a runt.

Carlyle took a knife from a drawer and sliced off a piece of pie. “Would you like a piece?” he offered Loric.

“Sure.”

Carlyle put the pie on a plate and handed over, then cut himself a piece. “Your partner is a piece of work,” he said before he bit into it.

“Yeah,” Loric admitted, “but he’s a good man, and a good Ko-Sai.”

“Sorry if I’ve been less than respectful. I know he’s not a bully like some of the rest, but I still don’t like it when people look down on me.”

Loric smiled as he chewed his poison berry pie. He knew exactly what Carlyle meant. “So who was the girl in that drawing?”

Carlyle stopped chewing. He swallowed. “Clarisse. A friend of mine.”

“Do you draw all of your friends so well?”

The young man blushed, and said nothing.

Loric could not help smiling. “Sorry, none of my business.” He took another bite of pie. “Cute, though.”

Carlyle looked like he was about to say something when Rickard and Duncan returned. “A message for the young master,” Rickard said, holding out an envelope.

The young boy took it casually and held it up to his glasses. His face tensed when he read the inscription and he tore it open eagerly.

“Who’s it from?” Duncan asked.

“None of your business,” Carlyle said. There was a hint of red in his face as he tucked the letter into the sleeve of his robe. “I’m going to my room.”

“I will escort you,” Loric said.

“Very well.”

Back in Carlyle’s bedroom on the second floor, the young boy walked straight to his desk. He pulled a key out of his sleeve, opened the top drawer, and dropped the letter inside before closing it and re-locking.

“Nothing is amiss, I assume?” Loric asked.

“Everything is fine,” Carlyle said. He was smiling like a child who had just been given a new toy. “Everything is perfect.”

Loric laughed. “You had two assassins try to take your head today, and everything is perfect? You’re a strange boy.”

“I don’t take kindly to being called ‘boy’ anymore. Now that my father is dead, I’m Mr. Fontaine.” Carlyle sighed. “It’s only been a week, hasn’t it?” He walked over to the now-closed window and stared aimlessly. “Still doesn’t feel real. There are times where I could swear that I would find father behind the next door I open, waiting to see me.”

Loric walked over to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. “My master, Taros, didn’t say much about your father, but I got the feeling that he respected him a lot. Taros doesn’t respect many people.”

“He was a great man,” Carlyle said. His voice was cracking, and Loric knew that if he looked at him, he would see tears. But he did not look. “I never really knew my mother. It’s always been him and me, in it together. He never outright said it, but I knew that everything he did was for me.” He wiped his arm across his eyes. “He was bedridden for a week before he died. Rickard and I tried to care for him, we brought in the best doctors we could find. Nobody could save him.” His voice was shaking. “Rickard’s been trying to help fill the void, but I honestly barely know the man.”

“I’m sure the people over at your company are willing to help you get adjusted.” Loric took a gamble. “I’ve heard good things about Jaxter Rhodes.”

One quick glance at Carlyle showed Loric exactly what he expected. The boy was scowling. “That snake? He’d rather see me fail. Then the board would give him Fontaine Trading. Rickard said he saw him smiling at my father’s funeral.” He leaned closer to the window and groaned. “Speak of the devil.”

From their visage, Loric watched the approach of an older man, probably around fifty. He was Ko, like most people on the fourth tier, and his hair was silver and combed back. He wore crisp, black clothing that showed off a stronger frame than Loric had seen in most businessmen. His hand glittered with silver and gold rings, one of which grasped a polished wood walking stick. The sound off a bell ringing could be heard from downstairs.

“I suppose I’d better deal with him,” Carlyle muttered. The pair left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, finding Jaxter Rhodes waiting in the foyer, the door still open behind him.

“Young Fontaine,” the older man said. “I trust you are doing well?”

“As well as can be expected,” Carlyle replied. “So what brings you here? I doubt it’s simply a checkup.”

Rhodes smiled a wolf’s smile. “Yes, of course. I know you’re a busy young boy. I have brought you our quarterly earnings report.” He handed a small stack of papers to Carlyle. “I trust you can give us a good assessment at the next board meeting, my boy.” He ran his hand back through his hair.

Carlyle forced a grin. “It will be my pleasure.”

Rhodes’ cane gave two quick taps on the floor. “Well then, I must be going. So much to do, so little time.” He bared his teeth in another smile. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, young Fontaine.”

“Actually, I’d like a moment of your time.” All eyes turned to the man in silver armor standing outside the door, behind Rhodes. Alaris Septis had return. He walked up to the door, his silver cape trailing behind him.

Loric’s eyes were immediately drawn to Alaris’, looking for any trace of the red glow that he had seen earlier. There was none, though the sword on the master’s hip still gave him an uneasy feeling.

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you in private, if you’d be so kind.” Alaris beckoned, and the grey-haired man obliged, following him down the walkway to the middle of the yard. The two talked in hushed voices.

“I hate that old fool,” Carlyle said. Loric noticed that he was shaking. “He expects me to fail. I will rather enjoy disappointing him.”

Rhodes only talked to Alaris for a few minutes before he nodded his head and departed. From the look of things, the vice president was nothing but polite, though for one brief instance he seemed puzzled.

“He claims to know nothing of the assassination attempt on the boy,” Alaris said.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Carlyle said. The sarcasm was obvious.

Loric grabbed Alaris and talked softly into his ear. “The butler over there, Rickard, says that Rhodes has the best motive for the attack. If Carlyle dies, he gets the company.”

“I see.” The master was looking at the butler now. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His face looked wary. He spoke to everyone now. “Interrogations of the assassins have given us no leads. They have no idea who hired them, just that he paid well and hid his face.”

Carlyle spat a curse. “Is there anything else you can do?”

“Only protect you, Mr. Fontaine,” Alaris replied. Loric noticed Carlyle brighten at being called “Mr. Fontaine.”

Later that evening, Carlyle had retired to his bedroom. He insisted on sleeping alone, leaving Duncan and Loric outside for the time being. The hall had no light, so their eyes would not have to keep adjusting to the dark. Alaris was outside, patrolling the grounds and keeping a close eye on the window into Carlyle’s room.

“Do you think that old guy is out to get the boy?” Duncan asked in a whisper. “That Rhodes guy?”

“Can’t say,” Loric replied. “No evidence.”

“Yeah, but do you think he did it?”

“Probably. Must be hard to watch a company like Fontaine fall to a kid when you’ve been working there your whole life like he has.”

Duncan agreed. They were quiet for a few minutes before he spoke up again. “What do you think of Master Alaris?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see his eyes earlier,” Duncan said. “They glowed the same way his sword did.”

Loric shifted uneasily. “Yeah, I saw.”

“I’ve heard some things from the guys about Alaris.”

“Such as?”

Duncan moved his head to either side, making sure that the hallway was empty. “I heard that the only reason he was given master status was because of his sword. The other masters just wanted to make sure something like that didn’t belong to any other house.”

Loric was silent. What was it that Taros had said? By the time that this assignment is over, however long that takes, I expect you will be able to see what makes him strong, too. Was it really just the sword? “I don’t believe that,” he said, finally. “You saw him in the street: he didn’t use his power then. He was amazing without it.”

Duncan thought on that. “Yeah, you’re right about that. You know the story behind him and that sword, right?”

Actually, Loric did not know. He just knew that at some point, Alaris had gained an extremely powerful katana. “No, I don’t. You do?”

“Well, I just hear what the other guys say,” Duncan admitted. “The sword supposedly slew a dragon a thousand years ago and took its power. Now, it can breathe fire like a dragon. He challenged some other Ko-Sai for it in a duel to the death and won.” Both of them were quiet once he finished.

“Close, but not quite.” Alaris’ voice pierced through the silence as he moved silently down the hall towards them. “It was a bandit, not a former Ko-Sai that I took the blade from. And the legend behind Rakshasa is a little different.” The master leaned against the wall opposite of Carlyle’s door.

“A thousand years ago, “Rakshasa” was the name of a red dragon that had a special power never seen before, at least not in dragons. It had the power to change shape, even into a human, if it desired. It was immensely powerful and extremely prideful, so when one day a Ko-Sai challenged it to a duel of blades, it assumed the form of a man and obliged.”

“What fool would challenge a dragon?” Duncan asked. “I don’t care if it looked like a human, it was still a dragon.”

Alaris continued as if never interrupted. “The battle supposedly lasted days. The Ko-Sai was far more skilled, but the dragon kept healing its own wounds, and it could shift its vital around inside of its body, ensuring the Ko-Sai never hit them. Eventually, the Ko-Sai was worn down. However, he had a trick up his sleeve: a spell he gained from a mage days earlier. He touched a mystical pendant that hung from his neck, spoke a magic incantation, and thrust it at the monster, which erupted in light bright enough to distract even a dragon. In the confusion, he lunged forward and pierced its heart, which it didn’t get a chance to move.”

“So it did kill a dragon?” Duncan asked.

“No,” Alaris corrected, “it almost killed it. You see, this dragon was a deceptive beast. As it was dying, it congratulated the Ko-Sai on its victory and told him that he had earned a reward. ‘It is only right that you should gain my power, having slain me,’ it said. With that, Rakshasa changed its shape again, this time into a katana.” He patted the sword in his belt. “The Ko-Sai claimed the sword as his own and continued on his journeys.”

“You said that the dragon was deceptive,” Loric pointed out. “How is handing power like that over to the Ko-Sai a trick?”

Alaris nodded. “The Ko-Sai didn’t notice at first, but the dragon’s soul wasn’t completely dead: it still resided within the sword. It whispered to him. Over the years, the Ko-Sai gradually grew more and more insane. The dragon’s spirit continued to speak to him, telling him to commit horrible acts of violence. Eventually, he was killed by men of the emperor’s army, and the Rakshasa passed to another man. But the sword continued to whisper.”

Loric and Duncan were silent. Duncan’s mouth was open, jaw slack.

Alaris continued, “The bandit I took this sword from had destroyed three villages before I killed him. He used the sword to torch them all. Hundreds of lives were lost.”

Loric remembered the red glow of Alaris’ eyes. “It whispers to you, too, doesn’t it?”

Alaris nodded. “I try never to use its power unless I have to.” He sighed. It was a very tired sound. “Sometimes I think it would be better to destroy this sword.”

Silence filled the hallway, once again. Loric was about to say something when the sound of shattering glass came from behind the oak doors.

In a flash, Alaris crashed through the thick doors, left unlocked for just this reason, and darted into the room. Loric could see a man standing over Carlyle on his bed, bringing a dagger down towards the boy’s clearly frightened face.

The young master of the Silver Bulls was faster than Loric had seen earlier. He was on the bed in an instant, shoving the attacker aside with a powerful thrust of his elbow. The dagger fell to the ground and the man flew off the bed, but landed on his feet. He was Vascian and young, from the looks of it. He pulled a cutlass out of his belt, aiming it at Alaris. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Alaris Septis,” he said as he hopped off the bed, “a master of the Silver Bulls. Now, who are you?”

At the word “master,” the Vascian took a step back. “Just a mercenary,” he stammered, “but no amount of gold is worth this.” He turned around and started for the open window.

Unfortunately for him, Loric had already closed the distance and stood behind him with his sword drawn, leaving Duncan to cover the door. “Drop your sword,” Loric said.

The assassin began to lower his sword, but midway through he kicked his heel into Loric’s knee. Loric cursed and crumpled, and the man was out the window.

“Dammit all!” Alaris yelled. He moved to the window and unsheathed Rakshasa, the blade glowing red. “Dammit all.” With a flick of his sword, Alaris sent a wave of orange flame in the direction of the Vascian as he skirted across the lawn. The flame hit him, catching the man in an explosion of fire bright enough to light up the entire front yard.

Loric watched the master with fascination and horror. Alaris’ eyes were red again, and his body trembled as he sheathed his sword.

“Can you stand?” Alaris asked.

“Yeah,” Loric said, pulling himself to his feet. “I can’t believe I let him get me like that.”

“Happens to all of us at one time or another,” Alaris said, “but all the same, be sure not to make the same mistake twice. We can’t take that man alive, now.” His eyes started to dim, returning to normal. He leapt from the window, landing in the yard below and rolling forward.

Loric winced, but nodded his head. Duncan had moved to Carlyle’s bedside with his sword drawn, in case a second attacker appeared like last time. Carlyle sat with his back to the wall, sheets pulled up to the bridge of his nose. “What just happened?”

“Captain Alaris just saved your hide, that’s what,” Duncan said. “Somebody really wants you dead.”

Down below, Loric could make out the figure of Alaris as he inspected the body. Even from up high, Loric knew there wouldn’t be much left. The ground where the flame struck was scorched black, and the remains looked disfigured and charred. Without a doubt, Rakshasa was the most terrifying thing Loric had ever seen.

“I just don’t see why I can’t have an hour to myself.” Carlyle had been complaining throughout the night, despite having been attacked for the second time in one day. Even now, late in the morning, he was demanding privacy.

“You’re joking, right?” Duncan replied. “What part of, ‘You will die’ do you not understand?”

“I’ll be careful,” the boy whined. “It’s important.”

“I’m sorry,” Loric said, “but until we get to the bottom of this, we have to stay with you.” He felt bad for the kid. His dad was gone, and he was more or less a prisoner in his own home.

It was just the three of them in the room. Alaris had left to make inquiries in relation to the case, but he did not tell them what. Truth be told, Loric did not mind: he was still a bit shaken from watching the master incinerate the assassin the night previous. The window was still shattered, but the broken glass had been swept up, and the only other evidence remaining from the attack was the two-meter circle of scorched grass on the lawn.

“Well fine, but at least let me nap in privacy,” Carlyle said, groggily. “I didn’t sleep well last night, obviously.”

“I don’t think that’s a good-”

“Get. Out. Now.”

Duncan started to stalk forward, but Loric grabbed his arm. “Okay, we’ll be right outside,” he said. “But if we hear anything, if you so much as sneeze, we’re coming in to make sure everything’s fine.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Loric and Duncan excused themselves and closed the double doors. “That kid certainly has some balls,” Duncan said darkly. “If I weren’t on duty, I would teach him a thing or two about respect.”

“Do me a favor,” Loric said, his ear pressed to the door. “Go keep watch outside, beneath his window. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to sneak out.” Duncan grunted and jogged down the hall towards the stairs.

When his partner was gone, Loric sighed and leaned his back against the double doors. Absentmindedly, he wondered how many times he was going to have to shove his way through them before this assignment was over.

Because he let his guard down, that Vascian assassin had almost escaped. Loric knew that his captain had done the right thing: if the man were allowed to get away, he would only have made another attempt later, and Alaris could not have been sure that he could chase him down in the dark. Unfortunately, a clue that had been dropped in their laps had disintegrated.

Just what was going on, anyway? If Rhodes was behind this, why had he been sending sloppy assassins the way he had? Surely if he wanted the boy dead, he could have poisoned him by now, or hired a long-range bowman to do the deed. Rhodes could afford something like that. Instead, it had been a few sell-swords. Could the vice president really be that sloppy?

About fifteen minutes passed while Loric tried to wrap his head around it. So far, he had heard nothing. That struck him as odd. He opened the door slowly, peering in. At first glance, nothing seemed wrong. There was a lump on the bed, hidden beneath a blanket. Loric was about to leave, when he noticed a thin strip of white wrapped around the leg of the big desk near the window. “Oh no,” Loric said.

Loric threw the doors open and, not to his surprise, Carlyle did not leap out of his bed. He rushed first to the bed, throwing the blanket up and revealing the pillows that had been arranged to look like a sleeping sixteen-year-old. Then he ran over to the desk, where he found a rope of bed sheets tied to one of the back legs and trailing out the broken window.

“Duncan!” Loric yelled down as he surveyed the yard.

His partner was leaning against the brick wall of the house staring off into the distance. When he hear Loric, he looked up. They locked eyes for a moment, until Duncan’s noticed the makeshift rope hanging about five feet above his head. His eyes widened and cursed under his breath. “Is he not with you?” he called up.

“How did he get past you?” Loric asked incredulously.

“I don’t know! I was here the whole…” he trailed off.

“Duncan?”

“Rickard asked me to help him move a birdbath around back to be cleaned. I was only gone a minute!”

“Find Rickard! Maybe he knows something!”

“On it!” Duncan darted off around the side, towards the back of the house.

Loric started panicking. How could he have let this happen? Calm down, he thought. ''Think it through. Where would that boy have gone?'' He honestly had no idea.

His heart was in his throat. Loric surveyed the room, looking for any indication of where Carlyle had run off. His eyes settled on the desk. The drawers that were unlocked had nothing of use: mostly quills, ink and paper. Loric tried the drawer that Carlyle had locked. It was still locked.

After a couple of minutes searching for a key amongst Carlyle’s room, Duncan burst into the room. “Rickard doesn’t know where he went. He’s going to look for him over at the Fontaine offices. What are you doing?”

“Looking for a key for this drawer,” Loric said. “Carlyle must have it with him.”

“Let me take a look.” Duncan walked over to the desk and grabbed the drawer handle. He took a slow, deep breath, then jerked the drawer straight out of the desk, splintering the wood and scattering some of its contents onto the floor. “Oops,” he said with a grin.

Under any other circumstance, Loric would have been appalled. After all, that desk was expensive. However, considering the situation, he was impressed. “Thanks,” was all he could muster. He dropped to his knees and started looking at the papers that had fallen on the ground, and Duncan set the drawer next to him, fingering through its contents.

“Well, I was half-right,” Duncan said. “He was hiding pictures of women. But they aren’t naked at all!”

“It’s the same girl in every picture,” Loric said. “The one you found on the big pad, yesterday.” He shuffled through them, looking for something that might help. His hand closed around the letter that Carlyle had received yesterday. The address was written in a feminine hand. He opened it and read it aloud:

Carlyle,

I’m deeply sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man, and I’m sure he is in a better place.

I know this is a difficult time for you, but I just have to see you. I have been thinking a lot about us, lately, and I think maybe it is time for us to take a step forward. You are my oldest friend, and the only person I feel I can be myself around. I know, deep down, that I want to be with you. Please meet me tomorrow at noon in the usual place.

Yours Always, Clarisse

“That’s so sweet I think it gave me a cavity,” Duncan muttered. “The usual place? How does that help us?”

Loric rubbed his temples. He looked at the all the drawings of Clarisse (he assumed it was her). They were all taken at the same location, from what he could judge: some body of water. Frustrated, he spread them all out in front of him. “Wherever he drew these must be the usual place,” he said. “They definitely spend enough time here to draw all of these.”

One of them was different. One of them showed the young girl sitting next to a waterfall, hand stretched out to let the water flow through her fingers. “I know this place,” Loric said softly.

“What? How?”

“I spent a lot of time in the woods as a kid,” Loric answered, “and I know that there’s only one waterfall near Silver City."

There was not enough time to find Alaris, so Loric and Duncan took off running into the woods outside of Silver City as fast as they could. It was unnerving, Loric thought. The last time he was in the woods was the day Otis perished during their Rite.

“How much further?” Duncan asked. The pair had been running through the trees for a good fifteen minutes.

“Not much. The river should be up ahead.” True enough, they arrived at a clear river, the bottom filled with sharp rocks. Loric shuddered as he remembered being bound and tossed into it. “It flows off the edge of a hill into a basin about a quarter-mile north. It’s a small waterfall, but it’s the only one nearby.”

They kept running; the only sounds were the crunching of their own boots on the forest floor, the calls of the wildlife, and the gurgling sound of the river. “I’m going to kill that boy,” Duncan said. He was more athletic than Loric, and the run seemed to tire him less.

“If he’s still alive,” Loric added, grimly. He, on the other hand, was breathing hard. “Here we are.”

The river spilled out over the edge of the ground, dropping down into the basin, mist rising up from the impact of water upon water. Loric smiled. He rarely had leisure time these days, let alone enough to spend it in nature. The basin was as beautiful as he remembered, all those years ago.

Off to the side, Carlyle sat on a boulder on the shore. His knees were pulled up to his chin, and he was rocking slowly back and forth. Before Loric could think of a way to approach this situation tactfully, Duncan yelled, “Hey! Idiot! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Carlyle looked up at the two Ko-Sai and his eyes widened. “What the hell are you two doing here?” he asked, unbelieving.

“Our job,” Loric said. “Wait there, we’ll be right down.” He and Duncan made their way down the steep hill to the bottom of the fall, using tree roots and rocks to slow their descent. Carlyle was waiting for them, his face bright red and his fists balled. He was wearing sky blue robes this day. “You need to leave. You need to leave right now.”

“Listen, kid, I’m getting pretty tired of this treatment,” Duncan said. “We’ve done nothing but protect you for the past twenty-four hours, and if you want to stay alive, you’d better keep letting us do it.”

“You don’t get it. I need to be left alone for now.”

“Oh we get it,” Duncan said. “We know all about your little girlfriend and your meeting.”

Carlyle turned from red to white in the blink of an eye. “Y-You broke into my drawer?”

''Broke your drawer, more like. '' “It was the only way to find you,” Loric said. “I know this is important to you, Carlyle, but we need to get you back to your estate.” Carlyle was about to protest, but Loric continued. “You do realize that you’ll be putting her in danger, too.”

All of the fight seemed to drain out of the young boy. “I didn’t…I didn’t want…”

Duncan sighed. “Yeah, we know kid. Sorry about the yelling, but we really do need to get you back. For everyone’s own good.”

The faint hum of a plucked bowstring came out of the woods to the right. Before anyone knew what was going on, an arrow was protruding from Duncan’s chest, near his heart. The Ko-Sai looked down, stunned, and sagged to the ground.

“Duncan!” Loric yelled. He put himself between Carlyle and the direction he thought the arrow came from. “Who’s there?” The trees were silent.

There was another hum, and another arrow zipped toward Loric this time. It cut through the lightly protected portion of Loric’s left arm, sending a wave of searing agony throughout the limb. The pain was enough to make him dizzy, and though he was still able to draw his sword, he knew another arrow could kill him.

Time slowed when he heard the bowstring plucked again. He wanted to jump aside, but doing so would expose the boy. He raised his sword to defend, but it seemed to react to his call much too slowly. In the end, a blur of silver leapt in front of him, deflecting the arrow harmlessly off to the side.

Master Alaris Septis stood between Loric and the tree line, his cape billowing behind him. His sword was drawn, and he held it in front of him in a defensive stance. “Are you two okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Loric said. He lowered his sword and winced at the pain in his shoulder.

“Check on Duncan.” Loric did what he was told, and dropped to one knee beside Duncan. He was still breathing, but his pulse was weakening. The arrow seemed to have been just shy of his heart, and his metal armor kept it from going too deep, but it was still a severe wound. He might still die, if it was not tended to soon. “He’s alive, but barely.”

If Alaris was relieved, he did not show it. “Why don’t you come out already, Rickard?” he yelled at the forest.

Silence. The only thing to be heard was the swaying of the branches and the scraping of the leaves upon each other. Carlyle took a step forward. “Rickard? What do you mean?”

“I see,” said a voice from the darkness of the forest. It was a low, coarse voice. “So I’ve been found out.” Rickard’s form was preceded by the sound of his footsteps: slow, deliberate steps that seemed to take an eternity to bring him forward. He looked different: his serious and annoyed demeanor had shifted to a wild anger.

Rickard was clutching a bow in his left hand, a quiver along his back. In his right hand, he was dragging an unconscious young girl along the ground. Loric recognized her as Clarisse, the girl from the drawings.

“Clarisse!” Carlyle tried to push his way forward, but Loric held him back. “Rickard, what are you doing?”

“Young Master Fontaine, do shut your mouth.” Rickard smiled. “Grown-ups are talking.” His voice had changed from the high-pitched tone he had been using earlier.

Loric gripped his katana with both hands. “Master Alaris, what’s going on?”

“Rickard has been behind the recent attempts on Carlyle’s life,” Alaris said, matter-of-factly. “Though you might better know him by his real name: Alucard Phinneus, former Ko-Sai of the Copper Hawks.”

Alucard Phinneus. Loric had heard the name before. Several years ago, before Loric had even passed his Rite, there was a Ko-Sai who was cast out of his clan for murdering one of his comrades. He became a ronin and disappeared without a trace. “The ronin, Alucard,” Loric said to himself. “He was in Silver City?”

“Only for the last few years,” Alucard said. He picked up the girl, who Loric could now tell was gagged, by her collar and slid his bow along his arm. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver and pressed the tip against the girl’s throat.

“No!” Carlyle yelled.

Alucard chuckled. “I’ve spent the past five years of my life working for the Fontaines. Five years of my life that I will never get back.” His face changed to a snarl. “And in the end, Alaris the Drakeblade ended up on my trail. The gods must really despise me, after all.”

“I thought I recognized him from the moment I saw him,” Alaris explained. “I’d met Alucard in the past, back before I was a master and he was still a Ko-Sai. But I wasn’t sure, so I’ve been investigating.”

“How come you didn’t tell us?” Loric asked.

“I only had a hunch,” Alaris said. “And Rickard was more likely to slip up if he thought things were going as he planned. With you and Duncan behaving friendly towards him, he believed just that. Meanwhile, I’ve been talking to Jaxter Rhodes and other members of Fontaine Trading. They all seemed to corroborate that in his final days, Rickard had been taking care of Carlyle’s delirious father. You were poisoning him, weren’t you?”

Alucard narrowed his eyes. “Figured all that out, did you?”

Carlyle had become wide-eyed. “You…you killed my father?”

“He used a drug that puts the user into a functional delirium before they die, and makes it look natural,” Alaris continued. “I found a bottle of it when I searched the house last night, hidden in the basement. I’m willing to bet you forced him to write a new will, didn’t you? One that makes his most trusted servant the beneficiary of the majority of his business?”

“But why kill the boy?” Loric asked.

“Because if the original will were found, there would be a legal battle between him and Carlyle. The court would most likely invalidate a will that was written by a man in a delirium, if it were contested. And Rickard never could find the original will. Plus, there was always the chance that someone would recognize him as the ronin, Alucard. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

Alucard’s face was bright red. “Actually, you’re spot on,” he said.

“And that’s why he used hired swordsmen for his assassination attempts. If he’d poisoned Carlyle or killed him himself, people would begin to suspect him.”

“But if it were a hired hand, nobody would think twice about the well-behaved servant,” Alucard finished. “You really have figured everything out, Drakeblade.” He smiled. “Except, of course, how to save the child.” A bead of blood ran down Clarisse’s neck where the arrowhead poked her. “Oh, and young master?” he called out to Carlyle. His smile was malicious. “That letter you got was a fake. I forced her to write it.” He bared his teeth in his horrible smile. “She’ll never love you, especially after this.”

Carlyle sank to his knees, his complexion deathly white.

“Let the girl go,” Alaris said. His eyes flickered red momentarily, and his blade began to glow.

“Or what, you’ll fry me to a crisp?” Alucard chuckled. “Not without killing the girl, too.”

“Master Alaris,” Carlyle said, sobbing. “Please don’t let her get hurt.” Loric looked back at him and saw how frightened he was. Tears were streaming down the boys face, and he was visibly shaking.

“Yes, Alaris. You wouldn’t want to hurt an innocent little girl, would you?”

The young master of the Silver Bulls wavered. The blade of Rakshasa turned back to a cold grey.

“Perhaps meeting you was a blessing in disguise, Drakeblade. After all, money is one thing, but power like yours?” The ronin’s eyes looked hungry. “You just can’t buy that.” He took a step forward, still clutching the girl. “Throw me the sword, and I’ll hand over the girl.”

Time stood still. The demand was ridiculous, Loric thought. There’s no way Alaris could give him Rakshasa.

“You cannot handle this sword,” Alaris said simply.

“Thirty seconds, and the girl dies.” Alucard’s voice had become cold and emotionless.

“Please,” Carlyle whispered. “Please save her.”

“Alucard,” Alaris repeated, “you cannot handle this sword.”

“Fifteen seconds.”

Alaris breathed a slow, deep breath. Then he did something Loric never expected him to do. He tossed Raskshasa  at the ronin’s feet.

Alucard laughed a horrible laugh. He swung Clarisse back, then tossed her at Alaris, sending her crashing into the master’s arms as he caught her.

The ronin picked up the sword, and laughed even harder. “So this is the famous Drakeblade?” Alucard asked. The blade began to glow. “Oh yes, I can feel it now.” His eyes turned red, the same shade that Alaris’ had. “This is power .”

Loric pulled Duncan’s sword out of its sheath and moved to Alaris’ side. “It’s whispering to him, isn’t it?” He gave Alaris Duncan’s katana.

“Yes,” Alaris replied. “Things are about to get very bad.”

Flames started to cackle along the blade of Rakshasa. “This power belongs to me, now,” Alucard said. “I am Alucard the Drakeblade!”

Loric lunged forward and swung at the ronin’s head. The red-hot blade caught the strike, and Loric could feel the heat radiating from it. “Sword or not, you’re still a man,” he said. “If I stab you, you’ll bleed.”

“Loric!” Alaris screamed. “Get back!”

But Loric did not listen. If I press him hard enough, it might not give him a chance to swing that sword. Loric was a flurry of attacks, his blade bouncing off Alucard’s as he struggled to keep up.

“Bastard,” Alucard said. He knocked Loric’s upward strike off to the side and began to raise his sword-

-only to have Loric pull his wakizashi out with his left hand, slicing into Alucard’s chest. The man wore no armor, so the tip of the sword easily cut into his flesh. He winced as blood pooled from the wound. “You’re going to burn for that,” he spat.

A grey blur, Alaris had flanked the ronin. He stabbed his sword below Alucard’s ribs, piercing straight through him and almost stabbing Loric. Alucard wheezed and coughed blood. He did not move.

“Is he…dead?” Carlyle called from the background. He was untying the girl, who was starting to wake up.

Loric took a step back. Alucard was still clutching Rakshasa. Alaris slid Duncan’s katana out of the man’s torso.

“No,” Alucard whispered. “He’s not.” Rakshasa exploded into a cyclone of red flame, forcing the two Ko-Sai back with its heat. A flick of Alucard’s wrist caused the sword to cut into Loric’s right leg, searing the metal of his armor and causing a pain so intense that his vision was swimming. He had never been cut and burnt at the same time.

Screaming a battle cry, Alaris brought his katana down with two hands at the back of Alucard’s head. The ronin was faster this time, though, and spun to parry. Flame was dancing along his blade now, and where Alaris’ katana ground against his, the steel began to glow. Alucard kneed him in the gut, then backhanded his face, knocking him back a couple of steps, which was all that the crazed swordsman needed to get a full swing.

Alaris managed to block the steel, but a wave of fire swept over him, the flame just slightly parting into two pieces where it ran over Alaris’ katana. The youngest master of the Silver Bulls screamed and was tossed backwards into the trees, still on fire.

“No!” Loric screamed. He tried to stand up, but his leg gave way and he was forced to rest on one knee. The wakizashi dropped from his left hand as he used both to support the dull side of his katana. Alucard brought Rakshasa  down in a quick arc, heat pulsating from the blade. The sweat was pouring into Loric’s eyes, making his eyes moist and his vision cloudy.

Alucard kicked him in the jaw, and he fell backward, rolling several feet before ending up on his hands and knees in front of Carlyle and Clarisse, now fully awake. She was crying, pressing her head into Carlyle’s chest. “Loric! Get up!”

But Loric could not. It was as if all of his energy had been sucked out. His entire body felt sore and burned. “Run,” was all he could manage.

Carlyle let go of the girl and darted to Loric’s side. “Get up,” he cried. “He’s going to kill us if you don’t get up.” His voice was only a whisper now.

Alucard regarded the three of them silently. His head tilted from one side to the other, like he was looking at something he did not understand. His eyes were a brighter red than Alaris’ ever were. “I’m going to kill you all regardless of whether or not you’re on your feet, young master.” The ronin thrashed the sword about, sending waves of flame in almost every direction. The forest began to burn.

“Carlyle,” Loric gasped. The flame had struck the water in several places, turning the basin into a sauna. “Take the girl and run.”

“Too late,” Alucard sneered. Loric barely manage to throw himself over the two teenagers before they were swept up in a torrent of flame.

*** Present

Loric could not see the ronin, Alucard, but he could see the red glow of Rakshasa  off in the distance. He would only get one chance at this, and it was a slim one at that. Quietly, he reached down into the water, picked up a rock, and tossed far overhead. It splashed somewhere behind the monster, and the red blade spun around and started to move in the opposite direction.

“Is that you, young master?” Alucard asked, mockingly. “You should know by now it’s pointless to flee. Just let me put an end to it all.”

Quietly as possible, Loric snuck closer and closer to Alucard. He was not silent, but the cackling of the burning forest covered the slight splashing noises his staggering made. He put his weight on both legs now, no longer using his sword for support.

Loric was breathing heavily now, as he closed the distance between them to a couple of meters. While he could not see Alucard completely, he could see the silhouette holding the bright-red katana. He took another step, then another. The monster that Alucard had become was within arms reach. Loric grabbed the hilt of his blade. The metal made a chink as he tightened his grip.

“Who’s there?” Alucard asked as he spun around, unleashing another jet of flame. Loric rolled out of the way, instinctively, and cursed himself for it. The chance he had was gone. The ronin was going to kill him now.

“Oh, it’s you,” Alucard said. “Killing you will be most boring, but necessary.” He took a step back and pointed his sword at Loric. “If you hadn’t come here, you probably wouldn’t have had to die.” He chuckled. “Oh well.”

Footsteps in the water. Another silhouette walked through the smoke and steam, a katana in his hand. “I told you, Alucard: you cannot handle Rakshasa .” Alaris Septis had burns all over his face. He had removed his silver armor, which was probably too hot to continue wearing. Loric might have had the same problem, if he had not been in the pool of water when he was struck. Jumping onto Carlyle and Clarisse caused a splash that soaked his armor, and while the boiling water was incredibly hot, it was not unbearable.

“You’re still alive?” Alucard sounded amused. “I suppose nobody understands this sword better than you. Makes sense that you could survive the first attack, in a way.

Alaris continued to approach, until he was face-to-sword-tip with the ronin. “It’s taken you over completely now.” The master clenched his fists. “I’m sorry.”

“You can take your apology with you to hell.” Alucard reared his sword back to strike, and brought its flaming blade forward with all of his strength.

Loric tried to pull himself to his feet, but he already knew he would be too late to save his master. The fiery blade ripped through the air, and then Alaris surprised Loric for the second time that day. He held up his left hand and caught the blade of Rakshasa.

“What are you doing?” Alucard asked. His voice was changing, now. It sounded like to voices coming from the same mouth. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m destroying you, Rakshasa ,” Alaris replied, “like I should have done a long time ago.” His fist tightened around the red-hot steel and his glove began to glow. Loric noticed for the first time that this was not the regulation Silver Bull glove that he normally wore. Instead of silver chain mail, it seemed to be made from black leather, and the ends of each finger were cut off, allowing his fingertips to peek through.

“Stop it!” Alucard hissed. Both of his voices were screaming in agony. “Don’t be a fool.” “Your time in this world has ended, dragon.” Alaris closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. “Perish!”

The light from the explosion forced Loric to recoil and shield his eyes. It cut through the smoke, as though a star had fallen into the basin and pushed away the darkness. When it finally began to dim, Loric found Alaris on his back, conscious but unmoving in the water. Alucard stood over him, Rakshasa  still in hand.

“What did you do?” Alucard whispered. “What did you do ? The power…it’s gone. It’s all gone!” He held the sword upside-down with both hands ready to bring the blade down on the master.

“I released the spirit of the dragon from the blade,” Alaris said, faintly. He smiled. “It’s just a sword now.”

“Just die already!” Alucard choked as an arrow was buried in his neck. It was wrapped in the fist of the man who stood behind him.

“You can have your arrow back,” Duncan said. His voice was heavy with pain. He twisted his wrist and broke the arrow’s shaft, leaving the rest of it and the head inside Alucard’s neck. Duncan pushed him to the ground, where he splashed and lay facedown, unmoving. “Just die already,” Duncan spat.

Loric looked at Duncan, disbelieving. “You’re alive.”

Duncan arched an eyebrow. “You’re surprised.” He laughed, but quickly fell to one knee, the pain from his wound obviously still agonizing. Loric went to help him, but Duncan brushed his hand away. “Help Alaris.”

“We’re fine, too, if anyone cares,” came Carlyle’s mocking voice. “It’s only your jobs.” He still sat with Clarisse against the tree that Loric left him under.

Loric bent down over Alaris. He looked for the glove that was glowing, but it was gone. As was his entire left hand. “Master Alaris, your hand?”

“A small price to pay,” Alaris said. He coughed some water out of his lungs. “The mage I received it from told me the glove would do that. Nothing risked, nothing gained, and at least it closed off the wound.” It was true: the stump where his hand used to be was not bleeding out. He looked Loric over, then took a look at the injuries Duncan had sustained. The master groaned in pain as he tried to move his body. “The trek back is really going to be rough.”

In the end, Loric and Duncan took Carlyle and Clarisse back to Silver City, and immediately sent an escort team to aid Alaris back at the basin. The former Drakeblade insisted that he remain behind, his injuries being what they were. Loric was amazed that he was still alive.

After Loric had reported to his superiors, Carlyle gave the three Ko-Sai an excellent review, explaining that his injuries were due to his own carelessness. Some muttered in disapproval, but the bodyguard job was considered successful.

Carlyle thanked Loric and Duncan personally, after they were all bandaged up. “Fontaine Trading Company will always consider itself in debt to the Silver Bulls,” the boy said. “And if you two, or Alaris, ever need my assistance, I will be at your disposal.”

Loric and Duncan each shook Carlyle’s hand, his grip stronger now, and the boy left the station yard. Clarisse was waiting for him. Loric remembered what Alucard had said, about the confession letter being forced. He smiled. That statement might not have been completely true, and if it was, things had obviously changed today. Carlyle and Clarisse left, hand in hand.

A strong hand grabbed Loric’s shoulder from behind. “Good job,” Taros said. “Duncan told me how you figured out where the boy had run off to.”

Loric turned around and knelt before his master. “I should not have let them escape in the first place, Master.

Taros grunted. “At least you’re smart enough to acknowledge that.” He stroked his two-pointed beard thoughtfully. “Rise.”

Loric stood up, despite how much it hurt with his wounds. “You told me that by the end of this mission, I would know what it is that makes Alaris Septis strong.” Taros nodded. “Go on.”

“It’s his will, Master. I saw an evil man claim Rakshasa, and he was consumed by it in a matter of minutes. Master Alaris has been wielding that sword for over a year, and he still kept it in check.” Loric looked his master dead in the eyes. “It wasn’t the sword that made him strong. It was the will that held back the soul of a dragon.”

The old master considered this. “You may not be so worthless, after all,” was all he said. He pat Loric on the shoulder and walked away.

Alaris Septis had lost his sword and his hand that day, but he was still the strongest man in the Silver Bulls.

The next day, Loric found himself wandering the streets of the third tier market again, this time alone. He knew the odds of running into her were slim, as Silver City was a big place. But still, he felt like he should try.

He found her at a fruit stand, turning over apples and dropping them into her basket. As always, he froze. Memories of a tragedy long past kept him from walking forward, from greeting her.

Nothing risked, nothing gained.

If Alaris Septis could conquer a dragon, he could at least do this. Loric had spent his entire life forging his own will, and he would be damned if he would shy away from this. “Felicia,” he called out.

The young woman turned around with an apple in her hands. She smiled when she saw Loric, and waved him over. “Loric, it’s been ages,” Felicia said in her melodious voice.

“Yes it has,” Loric replied. “But I would love the chance to catch up, if you could use the company.”

Felicia’s smile grew the tiniest bit wider. “I would like that very much.”

And so, the two spent the rest of the day together, swapping stories and enjoying each other's company. Loric could not have been happier.