“Of one country!” he yells out over the hollering.
The Crusaders around me still, their enraged eyes glued to him, but they don’t answer his call.
“Of one country!” He enunciates each syllable this time, spit flying from his lips as he screams across his legion.
The cry comes back, quiet, but dutiful: “Of one blood.” I even hear the words uttered from my own lips.
Alphonse runs his hand back and over his black hair, a gesture that appears to calm him, if just enough so that he can continue delivering the information he’s been instructed to share.
“I understand your objections and vexations,” he begins. I think I’m the only person in the crowd who notices the scathing glance he shoots at his father. “But you took an oath to your country. We fight in the Shadowthorn for the good of Arcathain, but now Arcathain needs you elsewhere.”
“What of the people in Amendell?” cries a Crusader.
“And Hogsmire,” another adds.
A third Crusader weaves through the crowd, her shoulders drawn, her hair smooth. It’s not until she speaks that I recognize that it’s Silver who’s standing before the group. “If we pull the Crusaders to the Capital, we leave the people in the border towns defenseless. When you took the Shadow Crusade out of Ashenvale, you sentenced those people to their deaths.”
The Magistrate steps forward now, a frown permanently etched in his expression. “I issued an evacuation for Ashenvale months before the town succumbed to the Blight, just as I will issue one for the border towns now. If people remain behind and die, it is their own choice.”
Silver’s voice turns lethal. “It is not the choice of impoverished women and children to die. They remained because they had no place to go and no aid was provided. The refugees who fled weren’t given shelter or food. Half of them died in the snow because they were promised safety and were given none.”
The Magistrate breaks her gaze and looks out over the crowd. “I assure you; the people of the border towns will be provided for. But that should concern none of you. You have been given an opportunity to be part of something greater than yourselves, to end the Blight that causes our people so much suffering, once and for all.
“It is time we abandon Nigh, so that we may direct our efforts to more lucrative gains.” He looks back down to Silver now. “How many more women and children would you like to see perish?”
A low murmur trickles over the Crusaders.
“N-none,” Silver says.
“And you all?” Esmond asks, gesturing to the legion below him. “Do you share this hope for your fellow Arcathainians?”
Everyone nods or voices their agreement.
“Then it is for that precise reason that I ask you to join us in the Capital. Rest assured, that the well-being of all Arcathainians is my only intention for this modification to your station. There are plans in motion, none of which I am permitted to share with you all now, but with your help, we will defeat Qaeus and all of his little minions. First we just need to regroup.”
He bows to Alphonse as if to say he’s done his part and expects the rest to follow accordingly. I don’t anticipate it won’t. I can already see the impact his speech has had on the Crusaders. Silver has returned to her place back in the crowd, and some of the other Crusaders who looked ready to fight him have settled into more neutral postures. They are true Crusaders, loyal to their duty without fault. I wish I was more like them, that it came natural to me, but I have to fight my every impulse to run.
“The Magistrate leaves for the Capital later this evening,” Alphonse informs us. “You will have until then to pack your belongings so that we may accompany him on his return journey.” He waits for agreement before adding, “All this time, we’ve been fighting the demons, but they keep coming. Our resources are limited, the necro-ink, the shadowsteel, even Crusaders—our numbers keep dwindling. But our fight has never been with the demons directly.”
“Yeah!” a few Crusaders shout from the crowd.
“Our conflict lies with the Primordial Qaeus. We’ve tried fighting through the Shadowthorn to reach him, but when have we succeeded? Hmm? In all the years we’ve launched our expeditions to search for him, we’ve come up short. We are nowhere closer to defeating him now than we were a decade ago.”
Alphonse gives no indication that these words are like poison on his tongue. He recites the speech well, the writing of which I’m sure came directly from his father to help rile the Crusaders to his side. And it’s working. All around the courtyard, my brethren are bobbing their heads. They stand with fearful scowls and malicious intent. The mere mention of Qaeus and his possible defeat have them ravenous.
“But I have news for you, Crusaders,” Alphonse continues. “We could never defeat the Primordial alone. This was true centuries ago when the mages aided us in the first three kills, and it’s truer now. The Primordial Qaeus has grown too strong. We need something just as powerful to defeat him, and we believe the mages—as filthy and treacherous as they may be—we believe they hold that power.
“In fact, we believe there’s already one among us.”
My skin prickles with fear, and I scan the Crusaders around me to see if any of them seem guilty of the accusation. But I’ve lived with these people for months now. Surely, I would’ve known if any of them were—
“Halira Devonshire.” Alphonse’s voice cuts through the air like a cracked whip.
The Crusaders part, not only stepping back to be farther from me, but simultaneously giving Alphonse a line of sight as he approaches. His smile is wicked, cruel. Its coldness permeates the courtyard until I feel like it’s winter again.
Dimitri rushes to my side. He looks down, watching me from worried eyes. “It’s not true,” he says so quietly only I can hear him. “Tell me, it’s not true. You can’t be a—”
“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” Alphonse asks once he’s close enough to reach out and grab me, even if he doesn’t. “Did you think you, a novice fighter like yourself, could take down such a goliath shadowcreature without us beginning to wonder how you accomplished such a feat?”
I’m shaking my head. “No…I’m not a mage.”
“She’s not a mage,” Dimitri argues on my behalf.
I stare out at the wide eyes of my peers. Panic seizes my heart. I should’ve just told everyone the truth about Ashenvale from the start. Instead, I let them paint this picture of me as some formidable, powerful mage.
“I didn’t kill those demons,” I blurt, hoping it’s not too late to set things right. “I had help. It wasn’t just me—”
“See?” Alphonse sings. He spins around slowly for the crowd, arms held out. “She admits it. She had help; she used her magic.”
“That’s not what I meant—” I plead, but I cut myself short when I see the pain and betrayal in Dimitri’s eyes. I want to tell him that it’s all lies, I want to reassure him that I’m not what Alphonse is making me out to be, but the truth of it is, that I don’t know. Kalli wouldn’t tell me; my mother and father never said a word about it.
“Arrest her.” Alphonse waves his hands at two of the nearest Crusaders. “Take her to the dungeon until we’re ready to leave.”