Chapter 2

Captain sat reclining in his seat with his arms crossed. To his right sat Chris, the son of a fallen aristocrat. On the left sat the Casper brothers, Roman and Linton, the two whom you would never recognize as siblings unless told and at that point the similarities were so striking you would wonder how you missed such details before.

The seats at this table represented the central figures of the company. Everyone present had a claim to their position because of their absolute merits which defined, even with the varying degrees of likability between the members, a definitive baseline of respect.

Crius cautiously walked to his seat while sparing a quick glance to ascertain Captain's disposition. Noting that it wasn't the time to speak, Crius seated himself silently.

Captain spoke quietly as he adjusted his posture.

"You're late."

"…"

"We'll talk about this later."

"Yes, sir."

Captain turned his attention to the maps splayed across the table. In a clear, articulate voice, he addressed the issue.

"We received a commission asking for twenty people. He wants us to guide him and his group through Borasca's Valley. Their destination is the town just after this pass." Captain slid his finger across the map and tapped his finger. "It'll be a month's journey at most."

Chris immediately raised a concern.

"It'll be difficult to find any volunteers from our company who'd be willing to join this expedition. Especially concerning what happened last month… Surely, you haven't accepted the request?"

Reclining, Captain ran his fingers through his hair.

"I didn't accept it; the request was just floating out there." A pause. "But the reward is too much to pass up."

Linton's ears perked up and his fiddling fingers found themselves static. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the table, proceeding to speak in a slow but excited manner.

"How much? How much are they giving?"

"50,000."

"…Silver?"

Captain matched Linton's gaze.

"Gold."

Linton whistled, amazed.

If 50,000 silver was a month's worth of revenue, then that in gold was well worth a year's.

'Wait. It's understandable that we don't accept, but with that kind of commission, why didn't anyone else?'

Crius turned to address the Captain, a hint of suspicion and eagerness tinging his speech.

"What's the catch?"

"Half of the party will be Sky Larks—"

'A definitive no for some companies.'

Captain stalled before continuing.

"And the protectees are the descendants of Lampridge."

Silence.

Eyes darted around the table.

Undoubtedly, their thoughts had coincided.

Lampridge: a long-standing noble family of the previous dynasty. After a violent coup, they had fallen from grace and their fortunes were confiscated.

Even still, their influence was deeply imprinted within society; after decades of covert actions, hidden from the prying eyes of the current rulership, they had recently re-emerged as a growing behemoth in a multitude of industries.

But, just as there are two sides to every coin, the Lampridges weren't without their dark side.

Rumors had it that this noble household had their hand in every underground trafficking they could participate in. Some went further, claiming that the House of Lampridge was the front of a criminal organization.

The fact that the Lampridges kept their political power even after the coup led to whispers of their connections to dark magic, assassins, and a pervasive intelligence agency.

Depending on who you asked, what the House of Lampridge did varied vastly; whoever you asked, the Lampridges were involved in something they shouldn't be.

However, not a single claim had yet to be confirmed nor denied.

And no one wanted to be the one who found out.

Silence cloaked the room like a heavy blanket. The occupants were reserved, held hostage by their thoughts. Closely observed by the sentinels in their minds, not a word was mouthed. The shadows, effigies led on by the light, flitted left and right.

Captain broke the spell with a prompt.

"Well, does no one have something to say?"

Chris promptly replied.

"It's not that we have nothing to say—there's too much to say, it's impossible to know where to begin."

Roman interjected.

"It does not matter where we start. This mission: we just won't do it."

Linton started with a protest at his lips. Hesitatingly, he slumped back and swallowed his dissent.

Captain looked around the table.

No opposition.

"Then, I'll understand it as us refusing—"

"I'll do it."

All heads snapped toward Crius.

Objections overlapped one another in the ensuing uproar.

"Are you kidding right now?"

"This isn't the time for jokes, Crius."

"What are you saying?"

"You, of all people—"

Slam!

Captain fiercely planted his palm onto the table.

"Enough." He held steady Crius's firm gaze. "The meeting is over. Crius, stay behind."

The three others silently filed out of the room. Chris glanced back at the remaining two as he shut the door behind him.

Captain waited.

Silence.

The moment passed, and Captain stood up to walk around the table. Studying the tabletop, he spoke slowly.

"This morning… You went to the valley again, didn't you?"

Crius tensed.

Captain exhaled deeply as he slightly compressed his lips. Looking up, he demanded Crius's attention.

"Crius. You know it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done, and even if you did somehow know about it in advance—it was just an accident."

A feral cry resounded from Crius's throat.

"It wasn't an accident!"

"Crius—"

A look of compunction briefly contorted Crius's features before an artificial calm displaced his demeanor.

"It wasn't." A scoff. "Accident? Isn't that something unforeseen, unexpected? But that was—I knew… Look, I—"

Crius began to falter. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he formulated the sentences in his mind but his mouth refused to speak.

'I knew it was going to happen. If it wasn't for my stupidly inflated ego or that useless confidence, I could have saved them. I could have saved all of them.'

A concoction of guilty sadness and fear threatened to hijack his being as the searing memories of that moment clawed its way to the present.

Crius held his head in his hand. Sliding his index finger and thumb over the eyes, he squeezed the bridge of his nose before clearing away his hand.

'Even if you knew the whole story, it wouldn't matter. What is sympathy in the aftermath of a massacre? Would it matter?'

No, it didn't. He already had his answer.

Crius locked eyes with Captain.

"I'm going."

"Why? Do you have to?"

"I must."

Captain was exasperated.

"What more do you want to do?"

"Everything I need to."

"There is no need for you to do anything else, Crius."

"I'm taking accountability for what I did."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was."

"There was nothing you could have done. For the mercy of the heavens, Crius, it was just an accident!"

"Please! Will you just please—!"

Crius clenched his jaw and sealed his eyes shut. He forced his chest to expand before slowly exhaling a turbulent breath.

"Crius, look at me—"

With a slow inhale, Crius's face settled into the mask of indifference as he faced Captain.

Captain held back his words. He knew this look. After a thought, he continued.

"You've done enough."

"..."

"Don't you think you have done enough?"

"No. No, I don't."