The Runic Alchemist

"It doesn't work like that."

"What do you mean? Come on, now reveal some of your goodies too."

"You are a weird kid," she said, not amused by his wordplay. "It's an hidden Mana spell. It can't be broken until the caster manipulates one strong emotion in the captive with the host mana to compel him to answer three questions, which the captive cannot lie to, no matter what."

"Three questions? You asked me just one."

"It wasn't time yet. The emotion was not powerful enough. The spell needs to mature and spread all over the captive's body first. You figured it out too early, and I had to make do with what I had."

"If you had believed me from the start, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"I am fighting a war, kid. I don't have time for being wishy-washy here. You are a murderer, whatever the reason. The punishment I gave you was too light for your crimes."

"It's a crime if I kill to defend myself and my friends? What are you doing here then? Waiting to dance for Ashenvale so they will leave?"

"War is different."

"For you, in your sparkling palace it might be. For us, every day is a fight for survival. The only difference is when you win, you receive glory, and when we do, we only receive punishment."

"Do not forget who you are talking to, boy. The link won't save you forever."

"I do not fear you, Lady Vidalia of House Eldorian. And I don't respect you either. So stop expecting it from me."

Finally, something other than blankness crossed her flawless, angular face. Her jaw tightened, her hands trembling slightly the air itself around us could feel the tension she built. But Damian held her gaze, unwavering. Who was she to demand respect? What had she done to truly earn it? He had come to serve, only to be met with harshness and pain.

Yes, his sin was grievous, too much to be easily forgiven or forgotten, and in a way, he deserved this treatment. But not from people like her.

The aura in the room was suffocating, pressing down so heavily that even the wooden floor creaked beneath them. Damian could face auras; he had done it before. Theirs might be the way of bowing to the strongest, but he was not one of them. He would live and die on his own terms.

Before the floor could give way, she relented. And with a cold "hmph," she walked away and stood near her window, looking down at the people she was responsible for. Damian also breathed heavily and collapsed into the chair behind him. This place was not a good place for a child at all. He wasn't even in his teens, and he was already starting to lose hair with so much tension in his life each day.

"Leave," she barked out the order.

Leave? He wanted nothing more than to do just that. However, Damian couldn't leave this place even if he wanted to. Opening the door of her insanely decorated room and stepping out, Damian found the two knights in full armor waiting for him. Of course. Why did he even think he could really just leave?

They escorted him into a nearby room that shared one wall with the commander's sleeping chamber. The distance did not exceed their link range. It was much better and larger than his last one. Both knights stayed in the room while his hands were still tied up. Damian ignored everything and just fell onto the bed. The day was tiring.

At least they had started to have conversations instead of digging around in each other's heads for answers. That could be called progress, right?

---

Damian had hardly even closed his eyes when the knights disturbed his sleep. Opening his eyes, he glared at them and saw one of them holding chains.

'It's morning already?'

With a sigh, Damian got up and allowed himself to be chained again. Then they walked out of the room. Damian had expected that with the shared pain, the commander would stop this thing. Was she really so eager to be punished with him?

They waited outside her room as she emerged in her pristine armor, walking in front with her two queen's guards and other maids, most likely tasked with helping her put on her armor. She didn't even look at Damian as she walked in her proud, elegant, majestic warrior style.

Was she worried about Aramis acting up if she didn't do this? That could be the only reason she was going to such lengths. But Aramis alone was nothing to her. Most likely, it was because of Bonecrusher. This defense line depended on that guy, and if he acted out, things could turn ugly.

From what Damian had heard from the soldiers in the Pyron army camp, that guy was not the best person to work with as it was, and with this added drama... The third-rankers were practically dukes of each kingdom, and they could act like very petty children at times.

History was filled with such incidents, where they asked for noble titles, pretty women, and secret knowledge to gain more power, including access to all the dungeons in the kingdom. Most third-rankers were insane, with very peculiar thought processes due to their prolonged lives.

Only a few who had a purpose in their lives, like the knight commander of Faerunia and the elf in front of him, could remain focused on their goals. Even they had messed-up heads. Well, anyone who lived long enough in this world would have something wrong with their heads one way or another.

Damian removed the small box he had created as soon as he woke up, their link resumed their connection.

'I can't really live in these bindings forever, Commander. What if I need to go to the washroom?' Damian started with some random small talk to let her know the link was open.

'You are fortunate to even have your head on your shoulders, boy.'

'My punishment is really that important, huh? Would it help if I howled and begged for mercy?'

'Like anyone here would believe you.'

'Not to brag, but I am a really good actor, you know.'

'Stop this nonsense and close the link.'

'Geez... You really are not a morning person, are you?'