Master of the Loop

Chapter 34

  Tales of a Prophet

Looking forward at the forest and back to the three people who still seemed plenty confused, Sylas could only smile wryly. It took some heavy convincing, but after playing the ‘Prophet’ and the ‘God’s missionary’ card several times, he managed to convince Valen to come along to the expedition into the unknown, expedition that the boy considered to be certain death.

Sylas was quite touched by the level of trust, even with the whole ‘Prophet’ business. Convincing Ryne and Tenner, on the other hand, was marginally easier. However, due to the fact that he rushed it a bit and relied heavily on the Prince, Ryne was quite doubtful of him still. It didn’t matter, however, as he was beyond confident in gaining her confidence by the time they reached the valley.

The group departed without much fanfare. The atmosphere, in fact, was very much dead, as though the castle was bidding the final farewell to its prince. Wanting to escape the tendrils of dread, Sylas rushed them and quickly left, with a Prince, an Exorcist, and a Captain in tow, sounding quite some ways like the start of a bad joke.

“Stop looking so grim,” he said to Valen and Tenner. “I’m not leading you to your deaths. I very much like living, myself. Contrary to what my recent experiences would say…” he mumbled the last sentence, questioning whether he truly liked living considering how many times he killed himself.

“But was it necessary for the Prince to come?” Tenner asked, beyond anxious. He’d already buried the boy once in his mind, and now he’d likely get buried with him.

“Yes,” Sylas replied firmly. “Look, aren’t you embarrassed? A young girl is handling this way better than you.”

“… she is an Exorcist,” Valen smiled bitterly, giving in. He’d already left—there was no need for the gloom. Whatever happened from this point onward, he’d simply accept it. Trusting Sylas hadn’t betrayed him yet. Until it does, he shouldn’t judge the man. “But… you’re right. I have already agreed to come.”

“Good,” Sylas nodded. “Now, I suppose I best disclose the real reason I wanted you to come.”

“…”

“…”

“Your dubious looks notwithstanding,” Sylas cracked a smile. “I couldn’t very well say in front of everyone what I’d seen, Prince.”

“… what’d you… see?” Valen suddenly got a bad feeling, staring intently at those brown eyes.

“An army of the dead,” Sylas said. “Fermenting beyond the forest.”

“… WHAT?!” Ryne, Tenner, and Valen exclaimed the same word, though with three very different tones. Valen’s was one of horror and abject petrification. Sylas had, after all, already warned him once of the impending army of the dead, so there was a precedent.

Tenner’s tone was akin to a father who was questioning his son’s mental faculties after the son said something beyond reason, such as ‘I will make top dollar being a clown at children’s party, just you wait, dad!’.

Ryne’s tone was between the two, partly wondering what he meant and partly wondering just… what. Nonetheless, seeing how confident the strange guard(?) was and the Prince’s reaction, she sought some validity to the words, wondering.

“Don’t worry—we won’t be going to fight. After all, I bitched out during the first one, and I didn’t suddenly develop a hero complex. I’m just going to show you something. Something none of you would have believed me if I just straight-up told you. From the safe distance, I mean. Ryne, be on the lookout for the strange trees and the patterns. The forest is full of them so you'll have to guide us."

As though he suddenly pulled a curtain from her eyes, Ryne immediately saw it—right in front of them, as though designed by fate. The pattern of the trees was similar to that of a mild-altering talisman and was likely meant to keep them going in circles.

“H-here’s one,” she pointed out, her finger shaking slightly.

“Oh, good,” Sylas praised her, nodding. “Let’s keep moving, then. There’s a long journey ahead of us, but we need to be speedy. We’ll take breaks each sixth pattern, in four-hour bursts. So, my dear Prince, your stamina will be tested. Keep up.”

Sylas pushed them forward, sticking to the initial plan despite the fact that it was taking its toll on everyone, and not just the Prince. However, he couldn’t be certain when exactly the phenomenon of the dead raining from the sky would happen since his memory was quite fuzzy on the number of days they spent getting there and, as such, he wanted to be there early, even if it meant waiting for possibly days. There’d be plenty of time to rest after.

It took them solid two-and-a-half days to get to the prime checkpoint—the pattern that indicated safety rather than a trap. It was also here that Sylas slowed down the pace slightly, affording them a few extra hours of sleep since they were fairly close.

“We’re almost there,” he said, nibbling away at the chicken. All four were sitting around the campfire, warming up and eating dinner. “Should make it by tomorrow.”

“Where exactly? At where this army is?” Valen quizzed. The days hadn’t been kind to his handsome countenance. He was much paler than usual and seemed dispirited. Additionally, he had further learned of the rugged ways, having eaten with his bare hands every day. Not an experience he’d like to replicate frequently in the future, but one he’d appreciate forever, he was certain.

“No, not quite,” Sylas said, looking at him. “What if I told you… just beyond that stretch of trees, there’s a mountain valley?”

“Impossible,” Ryne, Tenner, and Valen replied at exactly the same time, causing Sylas to look at them oddly. They were strangely in sync, as though they’d been practicing.

“Well, then, now you see why I had to drag you along with me,” Sylas added. “Even I wouldn’t believe if someone just randomly told me there’s a mountain valley where the shoreline cliffs ought to be. This is one of those things that you need to see to believe.”

“… haah,” Valen sighed, shaking his head slightly. “My interest is piqued, at least. Changing from the doom-and-gloom of the army of the dead topic, I am yet to thank you, Mrs. Ryne. You are extremely knowledgeable when it comes to talismans. After obtaining some experience, I’ve no doubt you could serve as the Courtly Exorcist.”

“Y-you flatter me, Prince,” Ryne was a young girl and Valen was a handsome Prince; even days after meeting him, and his change in appearance, she still had trouble talking confidently to him, much less so maintaining eye contact. “I just know a thing or two.”

“Who was your teacher, if you don’t mind me asking?” Valen posed a question while Sylas remained silent, opting to simply learn more by listening.

“Ah, not at all—it was Asha Meredith. I don’t know whether Your Highness has heard of my Master.”

“Heard of her? Of course I’ve heard of her! No wonder, no wonder you are so talented!” Valen exclaimed softly, sighing afterward. "Revered Witch of the Lake… honestly, considering the stories I’ve heard… I am both impressed by you and terrified for you.”

“… what do you mean?” Sylas asked, noticing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Hmm,” Valen mumbled for a moment, seemingly uncertain whether to answer the question or not.

“It—it’s fine,” Ryne said.

“The reason she’s called Reverend,” Valen continued. “Is because she has a good track record when it comes to raising new Exorcist. The reason she’s called a Witch—”

“—is because her means are abhorrent?” Sylas finished the thought.

“Something like that, yes,” Valen nodded.

"My… my Master's methods are harsh, that's true," Ryne said. "But necessary. As Exorcists, we see death almost every day and we face it constantly. We cannot flinch upon its gaze. We cannot cower. We are the vanguards against the Unspoken.” Oh, wow, look at that old-fashioned brainwashing, Sylas mused inwardly, glancing at Ryne’s expression. It was like a mantra to her, he knew, means of rationalizing her childhood. Though he had no means of knowing exactly what she went through, if a child ever needs to rationalize the childhood they had… it was not a good one.

“Back home,” Sylas spoke out. “There was this Army General. We called him ‘the Dreaded’. Leaders loved him, and everyone else either abhorred or feared him. What he’d do is take children as young as four and spend years training them, beating the will to live out of them, until they were empty-headed soldiers. Then, he’d hand the soldiers to the leaders who’d use the children as the frontline. Imagine… imagine you were an enemy, and you saw hundreds of twelve or thirteen-year-olds marching toward you with empty, hollow eyes. They won every battle,” Sylas was altering the story from his childhood, but it had little to do with the army—it was a tactic local drug lord used to overtake a quarter of the city within a month. “Because nobody wanted to kill the children.”

“…”

“…”

“Until, one day, they ran into the group that didn’t care,” Sylas said. “They massacred them all, and then went on to kill the General. That army was made up of the children’s parents. After killing the General, they all killed themselves.”

“…” everyone, even Ryne, listened with horrified expressions. Thanks to Sylas’ dramatization of the events and some flair, he really sold the tale. Unfortunately, however, it seemed that they all missed the point of the story, causing him to speak up again.

“Those children also said that they had to do it. That if they didn’t, nobody would. That it was their duty, their honor to protect and serve. What I’m trying to say… many Kingdoms and Empires and forces well beyond ours have risen and fell without needing to stomp on the heads of our children in the process. If there ought to be people to die, there are plenty of us old geezers.”

The group fell into silence, though Sylas didn't need them to dwell on his story a bit too long and spot numerous plot holes. As such, he urged them to pack and cross the last bit of distance toward the valley.

Some six hours later, Sylas spotted the thinning of the trees and sighed in relief that they had managed to find their way again. This meant that, if things went awry, they’d be able to find their way back in the next loop as well. As long as Ryne was with them, anyway.

“We’re here,” despite Sylas’ warning, as soon as the group emerged from the forest and onto the clearing and as soon as their eyes landed onto the valley… they turned dumb. After all, Sylas was right—it had to be seen to be believed. Surprisingly, Valen was the first to lose it, and he let the world know.

“HOW IN THE HELL CAN THERE BE A MOUNTAIN VALLEY HERE?!! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE! AAAH!”