Chapter 10: Trust and Guilt

"Enough talk," he said. "First, I wasn’t the one who sent out the knights. I’ve no interest in chasing Fractureborns around."

He paused, then added, "But if the princess gave that order to protect the Fractureborns, then I won’t stand against it. Those knights, the ones in the southern district now—they might be there for good reason."

Nikandros laughed. "My brother speaks truth. Always has. I trust his gut. And his gut about the princess."

He wiped his mouth, still holding his empty mug.

"Besides, why is she even being followed so closely? She hasn’t even taken the crown her mother left her. She didn’t ask for this."

One of the other priests spoke again. "True. But we can’t let just anyone take her place. Only someone from the royal bloodline should rule Agrekya. Our kingdom has stood for centuries. If someone without that blood takes over, everything we built will fall."

Nikandros slammed his mug again. "If I ruled this kingdom, it’d rise even higher!" He laughed loud, nearly tipping over. "Right, brother?"

Pyros didn’t even blink. "So you’d spend the kingdom’s wealth on beer and die of sickness before your second day."

Nikandros burst out laughing. "HA HA HA HA HA!"

The other priests chuckled softly, but their faces slowly turned serious again.

"Will you do something about it, Brother Pyros?" one asked. "I’m worried about the people. It’s only the first day of patrol, and they’re already nervous. That kind of fear—it can grow fast."

Pyros took another calm sip before answering.

"No. Too much work right now. I want to wait. Watch. See how this plays out."

He leaned back in his chair, still calm, still wise.

"This can go one of two ways. If it goes well, then good. If it backfires, the princess will panic. And when she does, she’ll call for us."

He looked at them one by one.

"And once that happens, we’ll have control over the knights. Not her."

Nikandros raised his mug again, even though it was empty. "And once we get control, no more rules for the beer!"

Pyros didn’t even smile. "Then we’ll have more work cleaning up the mess than ruling the kingdom."

Nikandros leaned back in his seat, tapping his empty mug against the table.

"You know, if you weren’t here, this whole priest thing would be so boring."

"If you weren’t here," Pyros replied, "we’d actually get work done."

Nikandros held a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended.

"Work? We’re not workers, we’re thinkers!"

"You don’t think," Pyros said. "You drink."

"I drink to think!" Nikandros grinned. "And when I’ve thought enough, I drink more. That’s called deep thinking."

Pyros rubbed his forehead.

"I’m going to die early because of you."

Another priest leaned in. "He’s not wrong."

Nikandros pointed at the priest. "Traitor."

Then he looked back at Pyros and said, more quietly, "Still, you always had the heavy part. The pressure. The plans. The meetings with nobles who lie through their teeth."

Pyros didn’t answer right away. He looked at his mug for a moment.

"It’s what I chose."

"Still heavy though."

"It is. But someone has to carry it."

Nikandros shrugged, more serious now.

"And someone has to make sure you laugh sometimes."

For the first time, Pyros cracked a small smile.

"Maybe you are good for something after all."

"Finally!" Nikandros raised his empty mug again. "Took you twenty years to say that!"

"And it’ll be another twenty before I say it again."

Nikandros gave him a thumbs-up, wobbling in his seat.

The other priests stayed quiet. They looked around the tavern, then back at Pyros.

Everything they needed to know—they could already see it in his eyes.

He was watching. Thinking. Waiting.

The storm hadn’t started yet.

But Pyros was already standing in the center of it.

Alexia sat still, eyes locked on the priests.

Wait… so it wasn’t Brother Pyros. Not Brother Nikandros either. Not even the elder priests. Then, the only one left is her. Princess Ismene. I doubt it’s the nobles. They only care when their coin stops flowing.

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Just then, one of the elder priests, an old man with a thick, grey beard, glanced straight at her. His eyes didn’t look surprised. They looked aware.

She froze.

Huh? That old man… does he know I’m listening in?

Her heart jumped a beat. The priest turned back to the others, continuing the quiet talk with Pyros and Nikandros.

But Alexia couldn’t stop staring. Her gaze focused on his beard, the shape of his nose, the slow way he moved.

Wait… is he…?

Before she could finish the thought, a roar of voices exploded from outside the tavern.

People. A lot of them. Shouting from just beyond the doors.

“Brother Pyros! Please, bless us!”

“Brother Nikandros! Our son was just born, we need your blessing!”

“Please, our home needs your prayers!”

The crowd outside pushed forward. Shouts, hands waving, voices desperate and loud. The eight knights by the door turned and tried to hold them back.

“Back off!”

“Move back!”

“Give space!”

“Hey! No pushing!”

Inside the tavern, the mood broke. Even Alexia and Lysandros turned their heads at the noise.

Lysandros raised an eyebrow.

“Whoa. What the hell? These beheaders really get praised this much around here? I didn’t know people in this kingdom had a kink for getting their heads chopped off.”

Alexia didn't even look at him.

“Shut it.”

The two knights inside, along with the five elder priests, started to shift uncomfortably. The noise outside kept rising, and the pressure at the door wasn’t stopping. But the two brothers, Pyros and Nikandros, sat calmly, still standing beside their table.

Pyros glanced at the door and spoke quietly.

“It’s always like this. Every time we go out.”

Nikandros swayed slightly, half-drunk and annoyed.

“Well, yeah. It’s a bother, honestly. I thought we’d have a fun time. Relax a bit. Instead, here they are, waving babies at us. I guess we gotta do our job, huh, older brother?”

He chuckled as he grabbed his book off the table.

Pyros nodded and stood up slowly.

“I guess that leaves us no choice.”

Nikandros called out, half-yelling,

“Hey! Bartender! Forget the extra three beer! We’re heading out!”

The bartender gave a small nod.

“Alright. Take care.”

The five elder priests picked up their Sacramentaries and followed behind Pyros and Nikandros. Together, the seven of them walked to the door in a slow, steady line. Once outside, they began moving through the crowd, blessing the people one by one—touching foreheads, raising hands, saying words in calm tones. The people clung to them like lost sheep.

Alexia didn’t look away. She watched every step. Every movement.

They’re just doing what they always do. Bless the people. Smile. Walk. Repeat. Nothing strange about it.

But still… that one elder priest. The one who looked at me. He seems... different.

Beside her, Lysandros snorted and picked at his nose again after he just finished eating the tuna.

“What’re you staring at now? Don’t tell me you have a thing for the beheader look too. Those dudes, especially the wrinkly ones, give me the creeps.”

She didn't answer.

Because her eyes were still on the crowd.

Still on that one priest.

And deep inside her chest, something wasn’t sitting right.

Alexia stepped away from her seat, brushing her hair from her face.

“Let’s get out of here. I need to think about how you’re going to earn money now that you’re stuck in this kingdom.”

Lysandros raised both eyebrows, excited.

“Finally! The fun part, earning money!”

She didn’t laugh. Still watching the priests behind her.

“Come.”

The two of them walked away from the crowd, Alexia leading the path while Lysandros followed, a step behind, shovel resting across his shoulder.

After a while, he broke the silence.

“So, did you learn anything from eavesdropping on those beheaders?”

She rubbed her forehead.

“No. Just a small headache from using my fracture.”

“Huh. And why are they even that important?”

“Because they are.”

“That’s a very good answer,” he said, dramatically nodding. “So wise. So deep. But really, why do those old men rank so high up in this kingdom?”

Alexia sighed.

“Because people go to them to get blessed. The royal bloodline has always had the priests on their side, for over a hundred years. Out of respect, they were placed just under the princess.”

Lysandros looked around as more villagers ran past them, all heading toward the tavern.

“Ohhh, history, huh. I’m bad with history. I mean really bad. Like, ‘my brain forgets what I read five seconds ago’ bad. But I like hearing about it. Still, where are we going now?”

“A building where I take my quests. It’s in the southern district. We’ll have to walk.”

He stopped walking, pretending to look shocked.

“Wait—the southern district? Are you taking me there because it’s poor and I only have one coin in my purse? That’s cruel. So cruel. That’s the kind of cruelty that makes you lose sleep and think, ‘Wow, I really made fun of a poor guy today.’ I feel attacked.”

She turned the corner without looking back.

“You never run out of things to say, do you.”

He caught up, laughing.

“Well, you’re the one who said people from Riverbend Village talk nonstop when we first met—you even referred to how we're just like goats that never stop chewing grass.”

Then he paused, face turning more serious.

“Wait, hold on. Quests? Why are you taking me there? I’m not even a warrior like you. Quests are for... sword people. Adventure people. Not me.”

“Forget that whole ‘spread-your-name, gain-customers’ idea. We’re taking a quest. You and me. To earn money.”

Lysandros sighed.

“Just so you know, I have no experience in fighting. I mean, yeah, there’s that”—he made a little twirling motion with his fingers, referring to his fracture—“but if we go together, I’ll just slow you down. You’ll regret it.”

She kept walking.

“So you’d rather starve than eat tuna?”

He blinked. Then smiled wide.

“Okay! Let’s go do some quests—!”

But just as he said it, he bumped hard into someone.

“—oof!”

A young boy—ten, maybe eleven—had crashed into him, carrying an old man on his back. The boy nearly fell, trying to keep his balance.

Alexia’s eyes widened.

Wait… it’s them.

The same boy from the tavern. The same old man.

“Grandpa! Come on, we need to get to the priests! They might heal you. Just a little further, okay?!”

The old man groaned, trying to stand.

“Careful, grandson. You just walked into a young man—”

He looked up at Lysandros.

Lysandros gave an awkward smile, shovel in one hand, wiping sweat with the other.

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Then the old man saw Alexia. His eyes narrowed.

“…Wait, you—”

Alexia’s shoulders tensed.

“Alexia Lethiane, isn’t it?”

He looked confused. “My grandson kept talking about meeting you in the tavern the other morning. But I don’t remember any of that. It’s like… it was a dream.”

The boy jumped in, annoyed.

“It wasn’t a dream, grandpa! I really did talk to her! She was sitting at the same table. I even asked if she was a fractureborn! You were right there! You even had a little chat with her.”

Alexia smiled a little, trying to brush it off.

“Looking for Brother Pyros and Brother Nikandros?”

The boy nodded fast.

“Yes! People in our district said they’re here, with the elder priests.”

Alexia pointed ahead.

“Turn right, then left, then straight. You’ll see a tavern. Or just follow the crowd—it’s loud enough.”

The boy’s face lit up.

“Oh! The tavern! We talked there!”

Lysandros added with a grin,

“Yeah, the one where everyone lines up for blessings and maybe gets their heads sliced off if they don’t say ‘please.’”

The boy burst out laughing. Alexia rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the forehead with the back of her hand.

The old man chuckled too.

“Ah… now that you say it, I really am starting to feel old. My bones hurt, my memory is playing tricks on me… maybe we did talk in that tavern. Or maybe I’m just losing my mind.”

Alexia looked at him, quiet for a second.

Then, gently, she said,

“You’re not losing anything. You’re just tired.”

The old man gave her a tired smile, and the boy adjusted his grip on him again.

“Thank you, ms. Alexia!” the boy said. “We’ll go now.”

“Good luck,” Alexia said softly.

As they walked away, Lysandros glanced at her.

“You did use your fracture on him, didn’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

He looked down the road.

“…You really don’t trust anyone, huh?”

Still no answer.

They kept walking.

And behind them, the crowd around the priests kept getting louder.