Chapter 48: The Lion’s pride

Arthur walked alongside Officer Reftia back to the seventh floor, his black spear resting in his grip.

"You know, I never actually thanked you for this gift, Officer."

She shot him a playful grin. "Took you long enough. It's been three days since I gave it to you."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You've been counting?"

"Yes, obviously."

He chuckled, fingers tracing the smooth length of his weapon. It was no Ikaris, but it was a marvel in its own right—sleek and black, its thin blade extending longer than most, resembling Ikaris in form but lacking its curve.

"I'll see you later, Officer. I need to meet with Lord Leon."

Reftia's grin faltered. "You're spending a lot of time with him, huh? It's such a shame—my dear little Arthur, climbing the military ladder one superior at a time. First me, then Frost, and now even Lord Leon." She shook her head in an exaggeratedly sorrowful motion.

Arthur snorted. "I've got as much ambition as a flea that's been pissed on."

She laughed and turned away, heading off to her duties. They never spoke of their assignments—it was simply understood. Arthur had no doubt she already knew what he was up to, and he, in turn, had no interest in knowing what tasks a Murder Squad officer had been given.

He made his way to Lord Leon's office, a route that had become familiar over the past few days. His presence there was never tied to any clear purpose—he wasn't given orders, nor was he asked to perform tasks. More often than not, he was simply there to talk. Or to be tested.

Leon always needed Arthur around, though for what exactly, Arthur couldn't yet discern.

But he was patient.

'Opportunity lies at the feet of power. I'll grasp it sooner or later.'

He knocked on the office door.

"Come in," called a voice—equal parts commanding and weary.

Arthur entered, snapping a crisp salute. "Lord."

Leon sighed. "Arthur, haven't I told you to call me Sir? I'm your superior officer, not your lord."

"It isn't proper, Lord."

Leon snorted and shook his head. "Forget all that. We'll do proper courtesy after we win this damn war, eh?"

Arthur found himself smiling. "Yes, Sir."

He stepped forward.

Leon leaned back in his chair. "Your idea is in the middle of being implemented. A lot of soldiers might have you to thank for it."

Arthur nodded but felt a weight settle in his gut. 'And how many of my own men did I condemn with that plan?'

"We need to contact Fort Lanai," Leon continued. "You were stationed there, yes?"

Arthur's breath hitched. "Yes, Sir."

"Good."

"…Why do we need to contact them?" His mind jumped to the worst possibility. 'Have they been discovered?'

Leon shook his head. "Arthur, sometimes I find you brilliant, and other times, a fool-brained prat. Think. Why would we need to contact Fort Lanai?"

Arthur forced himself to calm down. 'It's not discovery, so why?' The answer came to him at once.

"Because it's the only fixed cog in the plan."

Leon arched an eyebrow. "Meaning? Don't try any of that fancy metaphor shit on me, Cadet."

Arthur smirked. "It means, Sir, our plan—"

"Your plan," Leon interjected. "Say it how it is, boy."

Arthur dipped his head. "My plan relies on mobility—striking and retreating, keeping the enemy disoriented, bleeding them through relentless engagements. We know the land better than they do. But for that to work, we have to draw them in first. And the only way to get an army through is the Lanai Pass—guarded by Fort Lanai."

Leon nodded. "Good. So what's the best course of action?"

Arthur hesitated, then answered. "Evacuate the fort. Make way for them. They'll be too eager for revenge after General Thanason's death to hesitate."

Leon shook his head, smiling. "You're not cruel enough, boy. You think the enemy is stupid—they aren't. Much smarter than you, I'd wager. If we simply abandon Fort Lanai, they'll smell a trap."

Arthur frowned. "So… Do we leave it in ruins?"

Leon snorted. "No, boy. That fort is a masterpiece of defense. We won't destroy one of the greatest strongholds in the world."

"Then what?"

Leon sighed, as if disappointed. "Still too soft for war, Arthur. You need to be cruel. War isn't won by kindness. Hatred, rage, ruthlessness—those are the tools of victory." He leaned forward. "We won't abandon the fort—we'll strip it. Every resource, every soldier, every piece of value will be taken. But we will leave behind just enough to make it look real."

Arthur's stomach twisted. "They'll be slaughtered."

"Yes." Leon's voice was flat. "And it won't be quick. Fort Lanai is too well-defended for that. But their deaths will serve a purpose—luring the enemy deeper."

Arthur swallowed hard. "What's to stop them from capturing the fort and holding position?"

Leon smirked. "The very nature of this war. This isn't a battle over land like the Empire is used to. It's a war of ideas. Territory means nothing beyond its strategic use. They could march into the capitol tomorrow, and the war would still rage on. If they want this war to end, they'll have to put down everything—every voice, every faction, every lingering ember of resistance. And to do that… they'll have to march forward."

Arthur exhaled slowly. It was monstrous.

But was it any crueler than the rest of this war?

War was an ugly thing. It had no morality, no justice—only necessity.

He made a vow then, silent but firm.

'If I get out of this damn place, I'll never do it again.'

No cause, no reason, could ever justify war.

Leon studied him. "You don't like it."

"I don't very much like war, Sir," Arthur admitted.

"And yet," Leon mused, "you have a mind for it."

Arthur offered a dry smile. "Thank you, Sir… but I'd rather be a traveling author."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Leon threw his head back and barked a laugh. "A traveling author! Ha! I suppose it does have a bit of a roguish appeal."

He stood suddenly. "Come, Arthur. Let's walk the streets of Amne' instead of rotting in this dull office."

Arthur nodded. "After you, Sir."

 .....

The streets of Amne' stretched before them, vibrant despite the war that loomed beyond its borders. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat drifted through the air, mixing with the crisp breeze that rustled banners overhead. People bustled about, traders called their wares, and children laughed as they wove through the crowds, oblivious to the tides of conflict that dictated their futures.

Arthur and Leon walked side by side, their steps measured, their conversation private beneath the hum of city life.

Leon glanced sidelong at him. "Speak up, I feel itchy when you want to ask me something."

"You ever get used to it?"

Leon glanced at him. "Used to what?"

Arthur hesitated, eyes flickering over the passersby—faces that were warm, familiar. People who had shown him kindness when he first arrived. The old café owner, the man from the ice cream parlour, the tailor who had patched his coat for free.

Walking through this city always put him in a strange sort of mood.

"The killing," Arthur said at last.

Leon exhaled through his nose. "You want an honest answer, or something that'll let you sleep at night?"

Arthur chuckled dryly. "The honest one."

"No," Leon said simply. "You don't get used to it. You just stop thinking about it."

Arthur nodded. He had suspected as much. He didn't know why guilt would be any different in this world, but he had hoped.

He let his gaze drift over the city as they walked, watching the people who moved past them—some bowing respectfully, others offering a warm smile.

"You know," Arthur began, "the first time I had to kill someone, I expected to feel something more. Rage. Satisfaction. Regret. But all I remember was the cold."

Leon glanced at him.

"It was in the winter," Arthur continued, voice quieter now. "It was a cold day, windy, and muddy. I thought maybe that was why I felt so cold. But even after, when I was inside, wrapped in blankets, warm by the fire… it was still there."

He exhaled. "I looked at my hands, and it was like the warmth didn't reach them."

Leon said nothing, only listening.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "I kept waiting for it to hit me. But there was nothing. Too much nothing. After all, it was me against them. I hated that I thought that way. But now I wish I still did.."

"What changed?" Leon asked.

Arthur's lips pressed into a thin line. "When I spoke to one of them."

Leon gave him a sharp look.

Arthur continued, "It was a few battles in. We had a break in the fighting—just a brief pause. And I saw her. One of theirs. She wasn't much older than me. She was glorious in battle. A true prodigy you know. I killed her. But she lived just long enough to make me realise how…human my enemies were. We both spoke comfortably. As if for a moment, we forget we were supposed to be enemies, monsters. Each other's nightmares."

Leon remained silent, but Arthur could tell he was listening intently. He didn't know why he was speaking so openly. So…honestly. But now that he had started, he couldn't stop.

"Still killed her though. I barely knew her. Why do I remember her so clearly?"

"You know…they say the god of war hates death. Hate war, and fighting and battles" Leon replied. "I don't know who says it, or where what has been said has come from. But it is what they say. I think that describes it perfectly for me. If the god of war hates the damn thing, then it's not something meant to be liked. All great warriors will get a story like yours sooner or later. It's rotten luck you got it earlier."

Arthur scoffed. "Great warriors. It didn't make it easier. If anything, it made everything harder. Every time I fought after that, I couldn't stop wondering… what if I spoke to this one? What if he had a family too? What if he liked the same books I did?"

"We can only be human in times of peace. War is for monsters, so monster's we'll be. If only so that no one else has to be. It's the only honour in war."

A group of children ran past them, shrieking with laughter as they weaved through the crowd. One bumped against Arthur's leg, stumbled, then looked up at him with wide eyes. Before Arthur could say anything, the boy grinned, gave an exaggerated salute, and dashed off after his friends.

Arthur huffed a breath of amusement, shaking his head. "You'd think I was some grand hero."

Leon snorted. "They're kids. They see a uniform and think of glory, not the blood behind it." His voice was laced with something unreadable, something bitter.

Arthur glanced at him. "You talk like someone who had a few lessons of his own, sir." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in Leon. That man was cold, kind, monstrous and yet likeable. He had been a part of a rebellion that almost certainly would lose, and yet he was pragmatic. Arthur wanted to know more.

Leon didn't answer right away. They passed a baker's stall, the scent of honeyed pastries filling the air. The old woman behind the counter saw Arthur and beamed. "Ah! Young soldier! Do you need something sweet to keep your spirits up?"

Arthur smiled. "Not today, ma'am. But I appreciate the offer."

She waved him off. "Come by before sundown, then! I'll save you something fresh."

Leon only waited until they had walked a few more paces before speaking. "I ever tell you about the Siege of Veridun?"

Arthur frowned. "No."

Leon exhaled slowly, as if tasting the weight of the memory before speaking it aloud. "It was a city like this. Bustling, full of life. Had its own little quirks, too. The market was always open, no matter the time of day. You could buy hot soup at midnight, barter for spices at dawn, and if you were a guest, you'd have to haggle up, not down. The people were proud, stubborn. But good folk."

Arthur said nothing.

Leon continued, voice calm but distant. "The war came for them the same way it comes for everyone. Slowly at first. Whispers of conflict. Soldiers passing through. Then one day, the streets were empty. The traders were gone. People holed up in their homes, locking their doors." He sighed. "They tried to hold out. Fortified their walls, rationed their food. But a city is only as strong as the people inside it. And people starve."

They passed the café where Arthur had been given free breakfast his first day in Amne'. The woman inside, wiping down tables, glanced up and smiled at him. Arthur returned the smile, a quiet tightness forming in his chest.

"We took the city," Leon said. "Not quickly. Not cleanly. I was younger than I am now, but not as young as you. I had a command. I had men who looked to me. And I gave the order."

Arthur swallowed. "What order?"

Leon looked at him then, eyes unreadable. "The only one that made sense."

A breeze passed through the streets, carrying the sound of a musician playing softly on the corner. The melody was gentle, soothing.

"The fires burned for three days," Leon said. "The screaming lasted for two."

Arthur felt something cold settle in his stomach.

"They had given us no choice," Leon said simply. "Had we left the city standing, it would have been used against us, it was in a dangerous position. Had we let them surrender, they would have fought again, they weren't a people that bowed down. So I made sure they never did." He looked ahead, watching the city of Amne' as they walked.

"You think war is just about fighting the enemy? That's the easy part. The hard part is knowing how to end it."

Arthur exhaled slowly. "And that was it the right thing to do?"

Leon gave a small, humorless smile. "You tell me. The war ended, didn't it? I became a celebrated military commander within the Thoracen Empire, before I rebelled. My move had saved many surrounding cities and forts from potential destruction."

Arthur didn't answer.

They walked in silence for a while. Around them, Amne' lived on—unbothered, untouched. A woman watered her plants on a balcony above them. A father swung his daughter in the air, her laughter ringing through the streets. A shopkeeper arranged fresh flowers outside his store.

Leon took it all in, then said quietly, "This is what war is for, Arthur. This peace. This laughter. These people who don't have to know what it took to buy them this life."

Arthur looked around at the peaceful streets of Amne', then down at his hands. For a moment, he swore he could still feel the cold.

But he clenched his fists, exhaled, and let the warmth of the city pull him forward.

"Come on," Leon said. "Let's go back. We need to contact Fort Lanai."

Arthur smiled sickly. This was the exact opportunity he'd been waiting for. He'd finally get a method to contact Fort Lanai, exactly as he needed. But Lord Leon's conversation had left him, uneasy.

He couldn't help but think one thing as he followed the man.

'Wasn't this all too easy?'