Before we left to follow in the wake of the madman who was essentially kidnapping us, we took the time to gather up the Monster Cores littering the now quiet battlefield. The amount of wealth that was being revealed by the dissipating Miasma was just too much to let go to waste. Even beyond the crafting benefits of the Cores themselves, if we hawked this many Oni Cores on the market back in Hinaga, we would be making a literal fortune.

  Shacklock didn’t care, so we scooped them all up into a sack held in our travel supplies. Instead, he oddly spent the time standing on the edge of the mountaintop, making what looked to be…silly faces out into the night. I swear to God, he was squishing his face together and sticking out his tongue like he was trying to amuse an infant or something.

  None of us asked what he was doing, or if he had a reason for it. I’m…not sure there was one.

  Even stranger, once we had finished and the exiled Grand Marshal began to lead us further into the range, he looked over his shoulder briefly. He wasn’t looking at any of us, however. Instead, he focused on a point far off into the distance behind us, pulled down one eyelid, and stuck out his tongue, wagging it from side to side.

  All of us turned to follow his gaze.

  There was nothing there.

  ……………………………………..

  In the dark and the rain, the mountain ridges had become even more treacherous than before. It was to the extent that I’m not sure how much longer any of us could take this. Initially, I had been tempted to take to the skies once more, now that I was at least a little familiar with flying. But that was stupid. I would probably only get fried by a bolt from the black, if I tried to take wing. Although we had been determined to push through the night to reach Mt. Gorenzan in time before an inland sea swallowed the bunker door, we had to give up on that. The rain was only intensifying as we headed inland.

  The prospect of safe haven, even if it would be found in the arms of the Order of Solstice Flame, was a tempting one.

  I was thankful that it didn’t take long for us to reach Shacklock’s destination.

  He led us to what seemed to be an outright plateau, here in the central Goryuen range, a flat-topped stony plain that stretched out for miles. Squatting on that rock were the familiar sights of Solstice tents that we had seen back on the beach. There were dozens and dozens of them, as well as a much larger command tent which the rest of them crowded around. Oddly, for all of the canvas domes that dotted the landscape, there were few soldiers visible. And it wasn’t because of the rain, either.

  So many of those tents just looked dark and uninhabited.

  After we leaped down onto the plateau from a higher ridgeline, Shacklock casually sauntered up to the watch patrol on duty. All of us followed behind him warily, aware that we had little other choice in the matter. Through the noise of the torrential rain, we arrived just in time to hear the madman’s conversation with his underlings.

  “-strom back yet?”

  The lead soldier shook his head, his eyes trailing over my group standing behind his leader suspiciously. “No sir. Captain Wernstrom’s company has not reported back from his culling.”

  Shacklock shook his head, almost mockingly. “That boy. He’s losin’ his touch, eh?” He said, nudging another guard in the ribs. Said soldier didn’t even blink from the odd treatment.

  Guess he was used to it.

  “…as you say, sir.”

  “Well, whatever,” The madman shrugged. “I’m headin’ inside. I got me some guests I gotta gab with. Make sure I ain’t bothered.”

  The patrol saluted their leader and parted for him to stalk past. I resisted the urge to stiffen my shoulders as we did the same. I could feel the Solstice soldier’s eyes boring into my back as I walked past them.

  Hell, as we followed Shacklock through the encampment, that feeling only grew. While it was sparsely populated out here, it didn’t mean there was nobody. We occasionally stumbled across cook fires, strangely resilient to the deluge being tended to by a handful of classers. Their leader would receive acknowledging nods, but the rest of us only got glares and glowers.

  When we reached the larger command tent, Shacklock barged right through the flapping entrance like he owned the place-

  (Which I suppose he did).

  -and immediately started shouting.

  “Clear out, all of ya!” He bellowed into the warm, well-lit confines of the tent. The heads of a dozen or so officers crowded around the incongruously large central table immediately snapped up at the shout. There was a large spread of steaming hot food around the table, the sight of which made my stomach grumble. More than one set of eyes blinked at their leader. He glowered back at them. “You heard me! Git! Go! This is my tent, gods damnit, and I’m tellin’ ya to scram!”

  The officers scrambled to their feet and did as he bid, slipping around us to exit out into the rain and the dark. As they passed us, I couldn’t help but notice that the Lieutenant who had greeted us on these shores was among them. I exchanged a friendly nod with Lieutenant Salzen as he passed me.

  And then we were alone with the madman, in his own territory.

  Said madman stalked his way over to a large wooden chair, carved almost to look like a throne. The back of it resembled the massive sword that had strangely disappeared after Shacklock had dispatched an entire horde of Oni. He hopped into it and leaned back, propping his feet up onto the table in front of him with a thud. “Ah…” He sighed. “Ain’t no place like home. Well? What are you lot waitin’ for? Sit your asses down!”

  At his barked command, we warily stepped away from the entrance and approached the table. There, we found seats around it and slumped into them. My back thanked me as I settled into the oddly decadent chair, with its plush seat.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Never one to pass up an opportunity, Azarus immediately reached for the untouched food on the table. When Shacklock didn’t protest, the rest of us joined him. After all, it had been a while since any of us had an actual prepared meal. Camp fare just wasn’t the same thing.

  As I tucked into a place of roasted fowl and brown bread, the space between my shoulders itched. Shacklock was just watching us, saying nothing.

  Suddenly, he spoke up as I was cleaning a bone. “Do ya like my table?”

  The sound of eating slowed, as all of us blinked in confusion from the odd question. Liora was the one to break the silence. “Ah…yes, the food is-”

  She was interrupted by the old man waving a hand dismissively. “Ain’t talkin’ about the grub. I meant the table itself.”

  I looked down at the flat top of the thick wooden table then, aware of everyone else’s heads doing the same around me. But not, strangely, Venix. The Antium had never taken his eyes off of Shacklock, in the entire time we’d been in his presence. I couldn’t help but notice that his lower two arms were below the table, as his upper two tended to his plate.

  “Ah…it’s okay, I guess?” Renauld said uncertainly. “It’s very…tabley.”

  Suddenly, Shacklock lunged forward in his chair to slam his open palms down on the table. The resulting sound was loud enough that I’m sure the entire camp heard it. “Okay?! Tabley?!” He spit furiously. “This is a godsdamned masterwork of carpentry and spatial enchanting! I spent a carkin’ decade makin’ this thing! You have any idea how hard it was to make a folding table this large that shrinks down to the size of a flippin’ matchbook?! It ain’t easy!”

  I blinked slowly at the tirade, before inspecting the apparently enchanted table more closely. This time, with my Aetherial sense.

  Ah…yeah. I…suppose that was an enchantment. I wasn’t too familiar with spatial enchanting, although I’d seen it before. There were thick braids of potent Ki flowing through dense nets of impossibly tiny runes, all through the apparent ‘masterwork table’.

  But for all of the work that must have gone into the table, it was still very plain, aesthetically.

  It just looked like a damn table.

  What…was the point of all this?

  …was there a point?

  At the very least, I…suppose that explained how they had this huge hunk of wood sitting in the middle of a mobile camp.

  Under everyone’s combined baffled stare, Shacklock’s aged features screwed up in disgust. “Bah. My genius is wasted on you infants.”

  Alright, enough of this.

  I leaned forward, drawing Shacklock’s attention. “Why are we here? What was so important that you basically kidnapped us?”

  The madman’s eyes slid my way, and he considered me for a moment. “Greycton’s newest little toy,” He mused, ignoring my question. “Well, aside from his little tin men and women. I was wonderin’ what you lot were here for, but I think I’ve figured it out. I saw somethin’ mighty interestin’, watchin’ your fight with the horners. Those flames I saw ya use…I read a book that talked about ‘em, once, years and years and years ago.”

  My lips twitched downwards, and yet I was unsurprised. Sometimes it felt like I was never able to hold onto the ‘secret’ of my origins for long. It was to the point that it barely felt like one at all, and was instead just something I didn’t go around advertising. “Say what you mean, Shacklock,” I said bluntly.

  A brief red spark flared in the old monster’s eyes for a moment, before fading. “You’re after the door, ain’tcha, Precursor?”

  I saw Kazuma start out of the corner of my eye and turn to stare at me, but he was the only one who reacted to the words. I suppose it wasn’t too surprising that an educated nobleman like Kazuma would know what that was.

  “Y’see, I heard a story from a little birdy,” Shacklock started casually. “It were about an old curiosity of Greycton’s back in his even older stompin’ grounds. Out in Hollow Hill, there was this door That Fucker was obsessed with for years on years. Only, he weren’t ever able to get it open. He huffed and he puffed and he slung spells at it that would topple castles. But it never budged. That was until his newest pet laid a hand on it some six months past. And then it opened right up. Me oh my, now that’s interestin’.”

  Venix shifted in his chair, and I saw the muscles in his lower biceps tense. I had a good idea about what he was gripping, under the table. Shacklock did too, but judging by the mocking tilt to his lips, he didn’t seem to care a whit.

  “I was busy at the time, but I still wondered. What had that feculent sack of shit dug up out in the Principality, which did what he could not? I know now, and I’m thinkin’ you’re here for the same thing. The big shiny door that my scouts have told me stands right out on the mountainside.”

  I scowled now, and not just because an outright madman had figured out our goal. While I had grown some doubts about Grey during my time away from him, I still cared for the man. I didn’t appreciate hearing my mentor talked about in that way. “What business is it of yours?” I asked sharply.

  That was a mistake.

  The red glow returned to Shacklock’s beady black eyes, and a terrifying sensation stole over me.

  Or rather, my Outer Ring.

  From one instant to the next, my sanity died. That…that was the only way I could really describe it. It was like all reason left the outermost ring of that what defined who I was. The world ceased to make sense, simple concepts like light, and direction, and temperature became meaningless. What passed for thoughts in the shell my outer ring had become did not proceed naturally, from one to the next in a familiar, linear, sane manner.

  And it drove that mind mad.

  It wanted to rage at the world that had suddenly become so terrifying, where nothing made sense to it. It wanted to take the plate it had suddenly been eating and simultaneously smash it against the face of Bella to my right, and also eat it, and also carve graven images into our flesh with those shards and on and on and on with everything around us.

  It was only thanks to the rock-solid, protected nature of my core ring I didn’t descend fully into that madness. My companions and friends, I think, weren’t quite so protected. They all started to stand or growl or worse…

  Until the sensation vanished.

  Shacklock had only pulsed that effect for an instant, and that instant had nearly been enough to destroy all of us.

  I was beyond shaken by the experience and judging by the looks on my companion's faces, they were too. Because I recognized that for what it was. The expression of it was different from anything I had seen to this point, but I recognized the base sensation.

  That had been Shacklock’s Mantle.

  Simply by unfurling it, he could drive anyone he wanted mad.

  Insane.

  Helpless to the world.

  I drew in a shaking breath.

  So.

  That was why they called him the Madman. Not because of his erratic behavior.

  Because of what he could do to others. That…that must have been how he had drawn all of the Oni to him earlier.

  Said madman leaned forward. “Ye ask what business it is of mine, striplin’?” He hissed. “Everythin’ Greycton does is my business. Outsider, you were not born in this land, and so ya don’t know. But my life, every last second of every last hour of every last day of every last month of every last year of every last decade of every last CENTURY!” He bellowed, standing up from his chair and slamming his palms on the table once more. “Has been about that man! I founded this gods forsaken Order to oppose him when he made his own! I sought strength and years so I could live long enough to piss on all he’s wrought, when he did the same! I didn’t give a rat’s fucking arse about King and country, in that stupid damned war or any other! All I cared about was that he was on one side, so I had to be on the other! All for the chance, the CHANCE!” He said, holding two fingers together closely. “That I might get to murder him! Oh…oh how I longed for that. Ya can’t even begin to understand how much I do, you uppity little maggot.”

  That…that was…

  “Insane,” I whispered, staring at Shacklock. “That’s insane. What could possibly drive anyone to that level of vendetta? For literal centuries?”

  Shacklock smiled mockingly at me. “What, ya ask? Why, it’s simple.”

  “He were my brother.”