Yami no Aite (闇の相手) The One Who Stands With Darkness

In the stillness of the night, Orthan stood beneath the pale moonlight, its silver glow pouring gently over the clearing like a quiet blessing. 

The shadows of the towering trees pressed in around him, still and silent, their branches unmoving as if holding their breath.

From the window above, Vien watched her husband with quiet worry. His nightly watch had grown more unsettling with each passing evening… an unnatural stillness had settled over, the kind that made the quiet feel watchful. 

He couldn't help but keep his gaze always drawn to the darkened woods beyond.

Unable to let her concern fester, she stepped outside to join him, her shawl pulled tight against the creeping chill. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked softly, slightly perturbed to see him so still, his eyes fixed beyond the treeline.

"That bird," Orthan muttered. "I don't sense it anymore."

Vien followed his line of sight, squinting into the depths of the forest. "That must mean she crossed the rift," she said gently. "Why don't we pray for her safety instead?"

Orthan turned his head toward his wife, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. 

"There haven't been any beastly maledicts to hunt lately…" he murmured, his voice low, nearly carried off by the wind. He let out a heavy breath, his shoulders sinking as his eyes returned to the moon.

"They must have crossed with her," he added under a cold, misted breath.

— — — 

"Care to walk me down to the gate, Idris?" Chase quipped, turning towards the door with a slight smirk.

"Uhm, aren't you staying over for the night? It must be dangerous out," Sena said, worry lingering in her every word.

"He'll be fine on his own," Idris retorted sharply, as if he couldn't wait another minute to get rid of his dear friend. He stepped in front of Chase, waving him off with an impatient flick of his hand.

"Aw, you don't have to be so mean," Chase cried back teasingly, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

Idris let out a long, exhausted sigh before continuing, "Haaahhhh... My students are coming by tomorrow. I won't have the space to accommodate you."

Sena just looked up at Idris, recalling him mentioning these students. She wondered what he could possibly teach them, him being blind.

Chase noticed the confusion in Sena's eyes and chuckled. 

He turned, waving his hand in the air to signal his goodbye. "Fine, have a peaceful rest, both of you. Thank you for the meal." With that, he let himself out.

Without turning towards Sena, Idris advised he would be securing the perimeter and doubling the surrounding barriers, including the outer confines and walls of his home. 

"Is that okay? It would only look like your room is boarded up with wood planks, but they'll be removed as soon as I wake next morning," he said informatively.

Sena, still grasping at what he meant, simply nodded as she watched Idris follow Chase out, both leaving the house one after the other.

Standing in the middle of the living room, she wondered what a strange day it had been. Yet, with every word Idris spoke, she felt the exceptional protection and refuge he had to offer. 

She went back upstairs to her room, sat at the edge of her bed facing the window, and waited for the barriers to close off her view of the moonlight.

— — — 

Meanwhile, one of the riders ordered by the captain to deliver news of the devastation at Aurea Reach stood quietly at a high ridge, letting his eyes settle on the moonlit horizon ahead. 

From his elevated vantage point, he could now see the distant outline of the next lord's manor, and just beyond that, faint and spectral beneath the moonlight, the towering silhouette of the City of Ashriel.

He lingered for a moment, weighing whether to rest or ride through the night. 

The wind had grown colder, brushing across his shoulders and tugging at his cloak. But the thought of reaching the capital sooner pressed against his chest like a quiet urgency.

By the campfire he had built, his horse laid calmly, eyes half-lidded in the orange glow.

He stepped forward and gently brushed its mane, the strands still warm beneath his gloved fingers.

"Let's keep going, girl. We're almost there," he said softly, his voice meant more for himself than the animal. The horse raised its head, flicked its ears toward him, and slowly pushed itself upright.

They set off again beneath the watchful silver moon, the fire behind them dwindling into embers as their shadows stretched along the trail.

Upon reaching the clearing of the lord's manor closest to the Capital, he sought out the stables and guardhouse. 

As he drew nearer, he saw a flicker of light and two private guards on night duty. He decided to approach them to see if it was possible to access their conveyance gate for faster transport to the outer capital grounds.

"Good sirs, I humbly beg your indulgence," he began, approaching with utmost dignity despite the visible weariness from his night's travel. "I am one of Aurea Reach Valley's mountain post soldiers." 

As he handed over his Identification Card, revealing a circle tattoo on the back of his right hand, he continued, "I carry a dire message that must reach the Capital with utmost speed. Would it be permissible to request passage through this noble lord's conveyance gate?"

The private guard on duty took the identification, then waved a hand toward the guardhouse, signaling the soldier to enter. He pointed to the nearby stable, indicating where the horse could be left while its rider awaited approval.

After some time, a new private guard approached him, returning his identification. 

"Boy, our Gate Keeper won't be back until dawn. Why don't you rest here for the time being? You look ragged as you are," the private guard advised, pity in his eyes as he looked down at the obviously beaten-up and disheveled foot soldier.

The rider exhaled a dejected sigh, then stood up and composed himself. He placed his right hand on his chest and bowed his head low. "Thank you for your kindness, but I must continue to the Capital without delay."

With the guard's nod, he let the foot soldier on his way.

The private guard then stepped beside the two men on night watch, nodding toward the dark horizon. "Poor bastard," he muttered, clicking his tongue. "Looks like something went down in the northwest valley."

"Still can't believe they'd turn their backs on a Church and a gate," one of the other guards added, shaking his head. "Even if it meant saving their own skin."

All three stood in silence, their eyes trailing the lone rider as he vanished into the moonlit distance.

— — — 

As the cold, brisk night slowly gave way to the welcoming chill of dawn, the atmosphere softened. 

The rider's exhaustion, however, grew more prominent with each labored breath, pushing him closer to his limit. Yet, with the capital's towering borders now clearly in sight, he pressed on.

Slowly, his horse's strides became an overwhelming struggle, and both man and beast faltered, fighting to maintain their balance. 

He managed a weak wave towards the capital border's front guard, his arms and shoulders burning under an intense, unnerving weight that pressed against his back.

High above, atop the capital's formidable curtain wall, an onlooking watch officer noticed the rider's strained progress. Pulling out his telescope, he zoomed in on the approaching figure, his gaze hardening as he recognized a ragged, heavily beaten-down foot soldier. 

Upon the soldier's back, a respite maledict clung tightly, resembling a thick, dark jacket that seemed to siphon his last remaining breath and strength. 

With a small, urgent wave of a red and black-striped flag, the officer commanded the front gate guards to approach the incoming rider.

Two capital guards quickly mounted their horses and rode steadfastly towards the struggling messenger. By the time they reached him, the rider still managed to utter his final, gasping words: "I have a dire message... from Aurea Reach..." 

He fumbled inside his jacket for an enclosed letter, attempting to hand it over, but collapsed to the ground along with his horse before he could. 

The respite maledict remained clamped to his back, a grotesque, suffocating weight. His horse, equally exhausted from the night's relentless travel, twitched and kicked feebly, looking frail and spent.

One of the capital guards dismounted swiftly, unsheathed his blade, and with a single, precise slash, eradicated the lesser maledict that had manifested from the messenger's worn-out state.

— — — 

Back at the Defender's Keep, the largest military station situated nearest the main entrance of the City of Ashriel's six Gate Houses, the Commander of the Royal Squadron received the distress message sent by the mountain post captain in Aurea Reach.

He immediately called upon the Crisis Marshal: 

"Assemble a team led by a Royal Squadron member with ten foot soldiers. Bring two physicians from the Hospice and ten nurses to aid the victims. Lead this expedition to Aurea Reach, and at the same time, inform the two lordly manors to the west to send support in the form of necessities. Make sure to include ten Earth-wielders and construction workers to help rebuild the land. Also, notify the Daughters in District 1 to see if they can spare sisters to bless and perform healing rites." 

The Crisis Marshal moved swiftly, running to follow the Commander's urgent orders. 

The Commander then sat down to draft his reports, one destined for the Royal Chancellery detailing his swift decision-making, and another, more formal letter addressed directly to the King's High Office.

— — — 

Away from the capital's rising urgency, the remnants of Aurea Reach lay unmoving, caught between shadow and memory.

The first morning light stretched across the valley in pale gold, casting long, still shadows over the lingering devastation. A thin mist clung to the ground like breath not yet exhaled. Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped cautiously, as if unsure the silence would permit song again.

Kanan rose before most, his boots already damp from dew as he made a second round along the valley's perimeter, accompanied by one of the few remaining foot soldiers. 

The air still carried the faint scent of blood and earth, though softened now by smoke from rekindled hearths and makeshift cookfires.

They paused to survey the edge of the clearing, where the twisted trail of corpse fingers curled like unnatural roots reaching toward the forest's edge.

Still dangerous, still unpredictable. No one should be near this alone.

When the sweep was done, he didn't wait for orders.

He rolled up his sleeves, found a half-collapsed shelter where survivors had gathered, and stepped inside. Without permission or preamble, Kanan moved through the rows of worn, low-set kitchens and began assisting the townsfolk with breakfast. 

He carried heavy water buckets with practiced ease, and helped lift massive cast-iron soup pots onto makeshift fire pits. The broth inside was thin, but hot. It would be enough.

He stirred gently with a wooden ladle, the steam rising and curling around his face like incense. At one point, he cracked several eggs into a bowl, whisking with firm, steady hands before pouring them into another simmering pot for egg-drop soup. 

Nearby, a nurse handed him chopped root vegetables. He took them without a word and added them to the stock. His hands worked on autopilot, but his mind was anything but still.

Damn… I would've loved to get my hands on that Hemogoblin. But pride's not worth a body count. Not this time.

He stole a glance at the townspeople, quiet, grieving, hungry, tired, and then at the nurses still running on borrowed time and strained nerves.

The Captain didn't need to tell me what to do. I showed up. That's enough. Maybe the people will remember that much.

If I can't take on the Hemogoblin yet… then I'll face the mess it left behind. For now.

He moved to another pot and gave it a slow stir, watching wisps of egg feather out into the clear broth. The gentle steam carried hints of scallion, white pepper, and a light, savory aroma that wrapped the space in warmth.

A young boy peeked in from behind a canvas flap, eyes wide. Kanan flashed a faint smile and beckoned him closer, gently offering him a warm ladle of soup. The child took it with both hands, eyes never leaving Kanan's face.

Once I'm done cleaning up their hemogoblin mess and playing nice, that recommendation's mine. 

And once it lands on the Commander's desk… I'll have my grip around the neck of one of the strongest in the Royal Squadron. Then they'll see who I really am.

He smirked to himself, as he helped stack clean bowls, made light conversation, and even joined the nurses in distributing bandages and water to those too weak to rise.

Later, he thought, he would gather the children and teach them what to do when monsters come. Not how to fight, but how to survive.

I was arrogant, he admitted in silence. 

Reckless, too. Charging in would've only left more bodies for these people to mourn. Father wouldn't have forgiven that. Hell, neither would I.

For now, he let the heat of the morning fire chase away the bitter air. There would be time for glory later. Today, there was only soup, silence, and the fragile beginning of healing.