It’s a thought I’ve had many times in the last few weeks, and one I promptly punch in the face every time it arrives. We will know soon enough what the future has in store for us. There’s no point in spending what could be our last few days together worrying about it.
When I open my eyes, Dimitri is already gone, but I already knew that. All the heat in the room seems to leave with him when he returns to his dorm, and I might as well be left sleeping in a bed of snow.
I can hear the recruits in the other rooms getting ready for the day, and judging from the sun shining through the tall windows, I decide it’s time for me to as well. It’s almost second nature to dress myself in my black leathers now, my hand often feeling empty without my axe in my grasp. After the attack on the catacombs, we’d been instructed to carry our weapons everywhere: to meals, to classes, even when we bath.
I grab Tor’s dagger last, sheath it in my belt, and meet my dorm mates out in the hallway. Despite our impending initiation into the Shadow Crusade, nothing in our schedules has changed. We still train thrice daily, perhaps even harder now that it has become so glaringly apparent that danger does not limit itself to the confines of the Shadowthorn.
And so, as we have done for months now, we head to the training grounds to meet our general.
My heart warms to find that he’s not alone, but that Eparah, after nearly a month of guarding the eastern wing, is with him. I almost forget myself and run toward her, arms wide, but I hear Dimitri’s voice in my head. He tells me that I need to stay focused on securing my spot on the unit. I’ve already offended Alphonse dozens of times, and so the chances of him using his authority simply to force me into a life as his personal servant is already likely. In all the times we’ve spoken about it, I’ve reminded Dimitri that Alphonse hates me enough to send me to an early death in the Shadowthorn, but every time I say it, my doubt grows stronger. If given the chance to give me a swift death or torment me for years, I can’t say for certain that Alphonse would pass up the opportunity for the latter.
I still have a few more days to prove to him that I belong in the Shadowthorn, and so, I stifle my urge to smile too brightly, hold my eyes steady on our general instead of examining the other twenty or so Crusaders with them.
Güthric sniffs the air. “Food.”
“Yes, big man,” Alphonse replies, dipping his head. He gestures to a burlap sack on the ground. “Today, you will be missing your meals in the dining hall.”
Curious glances are passed all around between the recruits and me.
Alphonse continues. “When preparing to face demons and shadowcreatures alike, there’s only so much experience to be gained from behind the safety of these walls. I have done what I can to prepare you for the horrors you’ll witness once you’re inside the Shadowthorn. Now all that lies between you and your title as a Crusader is one final assessment.” He paces the front of the group with his hands clasped gently behind his back, his chin tilted up. “Today you shall accompany one of our units on an expedition.”
Murmurs break out among us.
“An expedition?”
“We’re going into the Shadowthorn?”
“About time.”
“What is our purpose?”
“Are you sure we’re ready?”
The last voice belongs to Silver, but she says it so softly that I’m not sure if she’s intended for anyone but the ghosts who haunt her to hear.
“Where is the expedition going?” Fox asks.
“Ashenvale,” Alphonse says promptly. “A few of the dead remain there, and their carcasses are too valuable to leave behind.”
I look to Silver who’s shaking her head. Her skin has gone as grey as fog.
“No,” she whispers. But panic rises within her, tumultuous and frantic, turning her voice into a storm. “I—I can’t go back there.”
All eyes whip to her, Alphonse’s especially. His resolve is iron hot as he takes slow, pointed strides through the gathering of recruits. They part for him the whole way back until he’s standing over her.
Regaining her poised confidence, she meets his gaze.
Alphonse’s glare deepens. He’s always seen it as a threat when someone—especially a woman, especially someone of lower standing—isn’t afraid to look him in the eyes.
“Did you come here to join the Shadow Crusade, or did you come to cower with fear like the rest of the peasants?” His lip twitches, venom dripping from his words.
“Hey!” I yell, the word leaping from my throat before the voice in my head which—is sounding increasingly more like Dimitri by the day—can warn me not to speak.
Alphonse crooks a displeased eyebrow at me. Seeing who the defiance has come from though, his expression contorts with sickening satisfaction. He’s been waiting for this, for me to challenge him and give him the opportunity to yet again remind me who between us holds the power.
“Do you have something to say?”
My chest hitches. I turn my sorrowful gaze to Silver. I want to help her; I want Alphonse to leave her alone, but no matter what I say, he’ll just do as he plans. The only thing I accomplish by challenging him is getting myself in trouble, maybe even securing my place as a servant to the Castle of Nigh for good.
My muscles creak as I force my head to lower, and I swear I can hear Alphonse’s sickening smile as he turns back to Silver.
He looks her up and down before waving his hand through the air and returning to the front of the group. “Stay if you want, but I’ll have you arrested for absconding your post. It’s your choice. Imprisonment or Ashenvale.”
My jaw unhinges. It’s true that he’s within his rights to threaten such a thing. After all, once we enlist, we belong to Arcathain and the Magistrate; we’re supposed to follow every order we are given. But he’s being unnecessarily cruel. If he knew anything about Silver, he wouldn’t present her with such an unfair choice. I’m not even privy to her full story, but I know too much pain awaits her in Ashenvale, her wounds too fresh.
Then again, as I’ve already witnessed, Alphonse is heartless, hardly human at all.
A hand squeezes my arm. I look behind me to find Dimitri, pleading at me with his eyes. He knows me too well, knows that he is the only thing preventing me from telling Alphonse exactly what kind of vile monster I believe him to be. But he also knows that his grasp on my arm isn’t strong enough to clamp my mouth at the same time. If I have something to say to Alphonse, I will say it.
But Dimitri clears his throat and steps around me so that he’s in the line of sight of our general. “Might I ask,” he begins. “Why are we going to Ashenvale now? The town fell months ago, and from what we saw in the catacombs, the dead have already been retrieved for the necro-ink inside them.”
“Not all,” Alphonse replies, utterly unperturbed by Dimitri’s approach. “A few bodies remain. Some of our own fell during our last expedition there, leaving behind shadowsteel that cannot be abandoned.”
This is absurd. The more who return there, the more likely it is that more will die there. It is a vicious cycle, one that will amount to an endless supply of necro-ink, and the continued rescue mission for shadowsteel weapons.
Dimitri doesn’t say any of that though. No one does. He simply nods and steps back beside me.