Caracara's Hunt 75 The King's Blades

"Hound," the archmage addressed him with a nod of his head.

The old man didn't spare the rest of the crowd a look before focusing on Arawn. He came close to the youth leaking materialized ether from all over his body and frowned. "Did I not tell you not to anger him?"

"Should have made it clearer to Kenley. The idiot tried to stab your pet from the back," he said without a glance back.

Kyla would hate him for being so dismissive of her brother's death, but Corwal really didn't care. That man had never been his friend, and he was a fool who kept on doing stupid s.h.i.+t like that all the time to prove some kind of point. It was only natural that one time it would not work out.

"Why hasn't he turned back then?" the archmage asked, still watching Arawn like one would a misbehaving dog.

"Aren't you the expert? I know he turned and didn't kill us, and that's enough for me."

The archmage turned and aimed his deep and supposedly profound gaze at him, but Corwal didn't even blink. Such a low level intimidation tactic wasn't going to work on him. There were few people in the world that he genuinely feared, and the archmage wasn't one of them.

"The king is waiting for you," the archmage said. A chill went down Corwal's back, and the corners of the old man's lips lifted up. He then returned his gaze to Arawn. "Stand up," he suddenly ordered in a commanding voice.

For a moment, nothing happened, then Arawn stood up with a mixture of emotions on his face. He didn't growl, but his face was an open book. Both relief and terror could be found, as well as resignation and acceptance.

In Corwal's experience, guilt always came with a hammer rather than a soft complaint. If his body was under his own control, he might have dashed forward and… tried to do something? But what did it matter, he didn't have control.

Mercenaries rushed into the room at that moment. They surrounded the prisoners, and a few went to check on Kenley's body. When they looked at him, he told them to bring him away. Kyla cried and ran at him with her small fists raised, but he didn't change his order. That man was not a royal heir to receive any special treatment.

"What little bird did we catch here?" Claus asked, and Corwal turned in his direction with annoyance.

That mercenary was boisterous, loud, and had no idea of his station in life. The only reason the king hadn't gotten rid of him was that he could be used as bait. However, that role had come to a swift end.

Unsuspecting of his fate, Claus continued to act like he was the king of the whole world. He grabbed Rain by the hair and pulled her up. It wasn't hard when she was much smaller than him and handcuffed.

"I heard you killed Garshta? When did that b.a.s.t.a.r.d grow so old to lose to a potted plant like you? I feel like slitting your neck right here in payback. Garshta was my friend."

"Is that why you abandoned him and ran away with a few squads in the dead of night?" Rain asked with vehemence in her voice. She didn't seem the least bit perturbed by her situation.

Corwal glanced at the archmage who was leading Arawn away and though to follow when he saw Claus raising a fist. He was about to hit Rain.

With a curse under his breath, Corwal freed himself from Kyla and grabbed Claus' arm right before it would have made contact with Rain's face. "Hold it," he said in a dark voice. "She needs to be in perfect condition for her execution."

"What do you care, dog? I can—"

Corwal twisted the man's arm, showing not an ounce of mercy. The mercenary screamed in pain. Swiftly letting go of Rain, he tried to grab hold of Corwal with his free hand, but their strength wasn't on the same level.

Ether enhanced muscles were much more powerful than anything a normal human could possess. So despite being twice the size of Corwal, Claus couldn't even free himself. His shrill voice rang through the staircase, and it was soon followed by a loud crack.

Letting go of the now limp arm, Corwal stepped back. "Know your place, trash." He then turned to the three prisoners. "Come with me, and don't try anything stupid. I've seen enough of it for today."

The trio looked among themselves, then followed after him. It shouldn't have been his job to deliver the prisoners to their cells, but he didn't trust the mercenaries. He hadn't since the moment he was ordered to work with them, and they kept not living up to even his already low expectations.

"I'm not going to thank you," Rain said when they were out of earshot.

He hadn't done it for her thanks, so he didn't acknowledge her words with a reply. Hitting people who had surrendered was a show of low self-esteem and no self-respect. Everything could be sacrificed for victory, but once it was achieved, why bring on additional pain? Was there not enough of it already?

Once in the dungeons, he separated the trio into cells that weren't anywhere near close to one another. Even if they shouted, they would no be able to communicate. But just to be on the safe side, he also brought Rain to a lower level.

It was much dirtier and filled with many unsavory characters, but he chose a single cell for her. As long as she didn't attempt anything crazy, she would be fine. No one had yet died from a few catcalls.

"You hadn't mentioned anything about an execution before," she said when he locked her up inside. The cell was a simple earthen one, but the onyx handcuffs would keep her in place.

"Would it have changed your choice?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Silence answered him, and he left the musty dungeon. The trio was safe now, but the same could not be said about Arawn. The king would want to see him, and that spelled disaster in capital letters.

'And he wants to see me too.'

This was an even more terrifying thought. Arawn at least had the excuse of being an unsuspecting tool, but he… he had no such illusions. It was what he was forged to be, after all.

When Corwal entered the castle, he was told that the king was waiting for him in the audience chamber. This was unusual, so it was likely that something unexpected had happened and the king hadn't bothered to go back to his private chambers.

The door opened without a squeak, and Corwal walked into a simply-decorated but large room. Instead of exploring it, he found his gaze attracted by a black cage in the middle. Both its bars and top and bottom were made of onyx. If that wasn't enough, Arawn's hands and feet were in heavy onyx chains.

His small figure was almost lost within all blackness, but he still shone with the cold and white ether light. It had dimmed a lot, but did not diminish.

The archmage stood by the cage, and next to him was Corwal's worst nightmare. His heart trembled at the sight of him, but there was no escaping. He walked forward and stopped a few strides away.

The king had his back to him, but the archmage was facing him and stopped talking. Noticing his reaction, the king turned around and broke into a wide smile. It did not reach his eyes, however. They remained the same treacherous green of a forest at night.

"My son! You finally came!" he called out in pretend joy and waved for him to walk over.

Corwal did so on wooden legs. There were many things about a hound's life that made his hair rise, but this was the worst of them. He could never get used to facing this person that could not utter a word of truth if it killed him.

"My king," he said with a bow.

"Enough with these theatrics! I see you've brought a present for me. Aren't you a cheeky child though?" the king asked with a grin. "I release him, and you bring him back to me."

Pus.h.i.+ng down the disgust that rose in his throat, Corwal straightened. "Was this not your wish?"

"It was, it was, but he was supposed to sow more chaos!" The king laughed. "When I sent you there, I knew you'd be able to get him out, but I still seem to have underestimated you. Despite not having any idea who he was, you managed to prevent him from doing anything. I don't know if I should be impressed or annoyed."

His eyes flashed then, and his smile disappeared. "When did you figure it out?"

"When I realized that the war would profit no one but you," Corwal answered truthfully. It was better than trying to hide and then being forced to cough out all he knew under torture. "None of the other hounds being active clued me in as well."

"Smart." The king nodded and returned his gaze to Arawn and the archmage. "Can you turn him back in a week?"

The old man's brow furrowed. "I do not know. This has never happened before. I'm afraid he was affected emotionally and has retreated into himself."

"Affected emotionally?" the king wondered. His gaze then s.h.i.+fted to Corwal. "You said something to him?"

As if a spark had been thrown into a pile of hay, fury rose in Corwal. He had said something? HE? His hands clenched into fists, and his body trembled with the emotions he was failing to suppress. It was his fault now? HIS?

He wanted to laugh in his fury, but no sound came. The king had ordered him to taunt Arawn so as to break any connection between them, but that was as obvious a death sentence as they got. Corwal could see when he wasn't wanted. Kenley was more favored, and the king only needed one son.

And yet it was his fault?

He had only been following the d.a.m.n orders! If it had been him who had died, Kenley would have been praised and would receive a reward, but now that it was him standing in the chamber, he was blamed. There was never anything he could do right!

Before he could open his mouth, however, the king took a step forward. "Kneel!" he ordered in a voice as cold as a winter morning.

Corwal fought against the command with teeth and nail, clawing at it like an animal on the inside, but his soul shook like a mouse met with a lion. He dropped on his knees and bowed his head. The part of him that wanted to rebel was insignificant when compared to the larger whole.

There was just too much pain awaiting refusal. And he was afraid, really afraid. Every time he heard that cold command, his body relived every moment of torture it had suffered before. He could feel dull knives cutting off his skin and his nails being pulled out. The pain would drive him mad, and the ether would bring him back, healing his mutilated body.

And the process would repeat again.

As he stared at the ground, his eyes ached. It took all he had to keep them open, for he could see a knife coming at them. The king had forced him to look when they dug out his left eye. Luckily, he could no longer see when they did the same for his right.

Ether was all powerful and majestic. The greatest doctor in the country could even restore people their eyes if they had lost them within a few hours. It was a painful process, but what did it matter when it was done to forge a blade into the right shape?

"Answer me, what did you say to him?"

With his head still down, Corwal spoke in a low, submissive voice. "As you had ordered, I antagonized him as well as his companions."

"But he didn't attack you and instead killed Kenley?" There was mockery in the king's voice.

"Kenley attacked him. Arawn fought back, killing him with the last of his breath. Once he changed after that, he didn't move. Whenever we tried to talk to him, our words fell on deaf ears."

His words annoyed the king. "Can this be true?"

With a nod, the archmage looked at Arawn sitting without any movement in the cage. "I can only hazard a guess though. Beasts seem to be sensitive to killing intent. Had there been a single person thinking to threaten its existence, it would have slaughtered everyone."

"Is there any way to bring him back right away? He's the main part of the show."

"We can only wait. I'll bring him to his old cell. This might give him a sense of familiarity and comfort."

"Do it." The king then turned to Corwal, who had yet to raise his head, and spoke with disgust in his voice. "Stand up. You're the last one left, so congratulations, you're the crown prince now. Go and learn court manners. In two days, I'll present you to the public. Make sure you don't disappoint me."

"Yes, my king."