CHAPTER 120

  KINDNESS UNDER THE SHEATH

  A hope, is what she saw looking at her glistening blade. There was none like this. A blessed blade, quick and efficient with the ability to store off the aura of its wielder. Before she found it in the treasury of the old. It was rotting away.

  “Have you lost your mind—it’s your own damn sword,” Eleanor protested as Reina handed it to the royal forge.

  “Melt it and remake—no prior features must be the same— it will be a new sword—retaining its blessing.”

  The elven blacksmiths, the whole group all looked at Eleanor to knock some sense into her.

  But she was adamant.

  “Reina,” Bernard interrupted. “Just why are you going to these lengths—”

  But Reina only answered in silence. It wasn’t like that she was happy doing it. The sword had provided a refuge when she lost her spirit. It was all because of that she could contend with other knights.

  But no more.

  “Have you thought this through?” Eleanor, holding her hand softly, asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you answer why?”

  His affectionate words made her speak. “It’s something I have—no, something I want to do. Just don’t tell the boy.”

  “This is the perfect opportunity to bind him. All the things you did for him. It’s the least he could do to pay back.” Eleanor pleaded.

  “No,” she looked at his eyes, “He had already paid it.”

  It didn’t take more than a day and the elven blacksmith, known for magic, had produced another fine blade. Milky white, just as the same as Reina, but the wave pattern along the edges made it stand out from before.

  The hilt was minimal, no extra décor just a hard and fine grip.

  “Thank you.” She took the blade and disappeared. Leaving the royal forge wondering what they had just listened to. The word of gratitude never came from their queen, but something unbelievable was heard.

  She was absent from the court, and one after another, serious news kept coming to the royals. Their supporting nobles kept switching sides, silently increasing the support for Martys.

  Eleanor and the loyalists were troubled, but Reina was no where to be reached. As if she had given up. And that was some worrisome concern for her loyalists.

  With a one track mind, she found Theodred, surprisingly not in his room but flying high in the skies, trying to distract himself.

  But he was not as disheartened as Reina thought. “So he likes flying.”

  She waited for him to be exhausted, and when he landed. He was greeted by her assuring gaze, poignant that she had solved his problems.

  “Well, if you can’t find answers, no one can, Teacher.” He said in his usual tone.

  “Don’t butter me.” The smile that faintly came to her face vanished in an instant the moment he opened his mouth.

  She flashed the sword in the sheath, old and plain-looking. “Draw it.” She asked, handing it over.

  And as the moment Hans unsheathed, the emotions in his face flashed on the blade, the milky white metal with waves in the edges.

  “Is that the answer?” He asked, swinging it to check the balance. “A blessed blade—what is its blessing?”

  “Try charging it with aura.” She asked.

  Hans did what was told. And as if a vortex was being opened, the sword dried him in an instant.

  “What?” He said, exhausted.

  “Keep feeding it aura, and it will store it. Together, it will act as your aura storage with your body—evidently expanding your reserves.”

  “You had something like this—why haven’t I seen you with a sword— only with that ceremonial blade—or Karmic—the one you used for your oath.—”

  “I have many swords—I specifically made this for you. It’s strong, balanced, and with the power you desperately need. It’s not as fulfilling as having a spirit, but it will at least make you run for twice longer.”

  “Nice! What is its name?” Hans marvelled at the blade.

  “None, why don’t you give it one?” She urged.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Kindness— just as what you showed me.” Hans smirked. “And you don’t have to worry about the spirit thing. I like facing overwhelming odds and proving people wrong. I’ll beat Dijkstra without it—”

  “You don’t have to— if he realises your weakness, and he eventually will. Parv has some nasty intelligence network. You will never beat him in a battle of attrition.”

  “What did I just say, teacher— I like proving people wrong. Everyone likes to see it —an upset. I’ll show them one.”

  “No, you are not participating in the knight convention. Grow some more. Try it next time.” Reina urged and she wasn’t requesting it.

  But as Regenratio turned to full swing, Hans regained the aura, and the sword woke too, taking whatever he generated.

  “Let’s talk later, teacher.” Hans ran back, trying to play with his new toy.

  And when he disappeared a shadow surfaced behind her. “Does that make you happy—you crippled yourself, Reina.” Bernard asked.

  “No.” Reina turned cold. “What happened?” She asked him.

  “When you were busy, Reverend, Ikrani, and Stormad. Turned the back on us. The Shadow family now has half the forces—we are on the verge of a rebellion, Reina.”

  “Don’t mind it—”

  “Don’t mind?” Bernard couldn’t believe. “Are you really giving up?” He asked desperate.

  But Reina didn’t answer. Meetings after meetings were scheduled; She got busy. The loyalists were concerned even much more after loosing several families to the usurper. But there was not a hint of worry in Reina’s eyes.

  But when someone suggested they take arms. Reina couldn’t remain silent.

  “You all know what lies before us. My brother, once sworn to my side in blood and purpose, now he speaks with the fire of ambition behind a veil of nobility.”

  She paused a bit and with a deep frown continued.

  “And yet... he is not alone. Half our people rally behind him—not out of malice, but out of fear, or faith, or desperation. They are not invaders. They are our kin.”

  “We have more mage towers.” The young Galenhall lord spoke with confidence. “The only thing they can do is to show their defiance, nothing more. They’d be fools to march against you, your majesty.”

  “You know what mage towers can do.” Reina glanced at the strategic board with terrain of Clandor recreated. “With a single command,” she pointed, “I could silence the rebellion. The throne would be secure. But what would I rule then? A nation left smouldering by its queen? People who would look upon me not as their protector, but as a tyrant who burned her own house down to keep it?”

  “But we can’t just let them do what they want” Galenhall lord protested.

  Reina didn’t shook. “If I strike, I win—and lose the soul of our kingdom. If I hold back, I risk losing everything to a man who would tear this realm apart for his pride—This is my burden. Not whether we can win, but whether we should win this way.—I ask you, my council—is victory still victory if it leaves the land too broken to stand upon?"

  “Then what should we do?” The Highborn lord, concerned this time, asked. “Assassinate—there isn’t a way to silence a ranked knight quietly.”

  “And let it turn to a full-blown war, father-in-law.”

  “Then what?” He asked frantically.

  “We wait. Give me some time. I’ll find a way.”

  She dismissed the court and turned to Eleanor, acting as if nothing major had happened. “Let’s have our family dinner—we didn’t eat together since my journey to the Holy Lands. Call the children.”

  A summons this late in the evening meant only one thing. The eating time where people take less inside their mouths and spew a lot out.

  All were seated, even Chris came out from his house.

  “So what is the latest?” Reina asked, something she had never done.

  “I reached grade 40.” Allynna whispered.

  Reina nodded, but that was more than what she had shown her entire life. “And you?” She pointed at Riftal, who was stunned, not getting any response from within.

  Bernard came to save his day. “He is too on a similar level.” He pointed out.

  “It looks like my children are progressing much faster than any.” She cut the tenderloin with the knife and nibbled a little.

  “What’s up with her? Is she going senile this early?” Delimira whispered to Chris.

  But Chris didn’t have any answers; he just stared at his father to provide some context. But got nothing.

  Hans tried reading the room. A skill he was so naive in.

  Hmm! She looks like she is at her ropes’ end—accepting her fate. Well, I commend her for not using force, saving her citizens first.

  Hans too nibbled a little; the meat they were having wasn’t up to his taste. His hand unconsciously rolled over the sword hanging around his waist.

  “Is that a new sword?” Chris, the sword fanatic, startled. “Show it! Show it!”

  “Come on, man, people are eating.”

  Hans knew Chris well; if it was something skill or weapon, he didn’t care where he was.

  “Then tell me—is it blessed or cursed?” He kept asking without getting a hint.

  “You never told me what’s yours—we both are on the same grade,” Hans suggested, trying to postpone Chris’s erratic behaviour. “I think— do you want to spar later—”

  “Hell yeah, I’m in— but tell me about your sword first? Where did you get it? Is it forged or bought—where did you get the blessed steel—”

  “Easy there, man.” Hans hinted towards the Queen. “Ask her.”

  Chris couldn’t just go at her like a nut job, so he insisted on Hans.

  “A blessed blade.” Hans gave in, knowing the evident result. “It eats up my aura and saves it for later use—”

  “Mine is kind of the same—Dean said it’s for the best, so I won’t just explode—I have a bit of a special bloodline, you see.”

  “Ah—yes, the loud heartbeat.” Hans nodded; they once spared a little, and he got to witness the Parvian bloodline as Theodred—together with the complete Sirius strike that Chris had mastered.

  “Mhm.” Chris continued. “Mine only eats aura that I can’t handle—it keeps me alive.”

  When they were conversing, Delimira was staring at the sword, a sensation she could feel. Something hit her. She stared at Reina. “You are nuts—you really went senile, Queen Reina.”

  “It appears I am.” Reina just took it in, didn’t escalate what Delimira had discovered.

  That didn’t arouse any suspicions since it was the usual routine of the two. But Aredhel knew what her daughter was chastising about.

  “I have no love for you, Reina, but you can still fight, you know—Eleanor is here—me— I’m also dragged into this—”

  “I made this bed, and it’s my time to lie in it. Don’t disturb the children.”

  With some high and some low, the conversation continued, and Reina, not being the part, just listened to her children.

  “Theodred, walk with me,” she said, standing up, and Hans had no choice but to follow.

  It seemed something big was going to happen, and his guts churning always pointed to that.