The Storm King

Chapter 448: Roland’s Concern

“Sir Leon!” Roland called out as the meeting wrapped up and everyone departed the command tent to see to their parts in getting everything organized.

Leon paused for a moment, nodding to the others in his party to continue without him. Valeria stuck around for a moment giving him a questioning look, but Marcus, Alcander, and Alix all left, though not without giving Leon and Valeria some amused looks. Leon had to nod again to Valeria before she left—he was a little apprehensive letting her leave on her own, but he figured if he was going to trust her, now was as good a time to start as any. Only Anzu remained at his side.

“Sir Roland,” Leon said in greeting as Roland caught up to him. “Was there something else?”

As he asked this, Leon’s eyes strayed out toward the forest in the direction that he had sensed Naiad’s power. He doubted he’d be able to find her before the upcoming battle kicked off, but he had been hoping to at least take an hour or two to poke around again and see if he missed anything.

“Mind if we talk for a moment? In private?” Roland asked with a wide smile and a meaningful nod toward another tent close by.

Leon thought for a moment as he clamped down on the instinct to immediately refuse. “… Sure,” he said, reasoning that it was best to see what the Paladin wanted before a major battle. Besides, with confirmation that it was Valeria’s family that had been responsible for his father’s murder, he could finally put away the last of his lingering suspicion and antipathy towards Roland.

The two entered the tent, which Leon noted was bereft of most creature comforts that nobles and higher-ranking knights loved to fill their tents with. Whether that was because Roland’s tent—at least, Leon was assuming it was Roland’s—was borrowed, hastily put together, or because of more moderate tastes, Leon wasn’t sure. The furniture within consisted of a bed, a handful of chairs, a small round table, and nothing more.

The two took seats at the table while Anzu waited outside, only poking his head into the tent so he could keep an eye on Roland.

For his part, Roland was a little bit put off by the griffin’s constant stare, which Leon picked up on. It took a little prodding on his part, but Leon managed to get the griffin to leave them alone.

“So, Sir Leon,” the Paladin cautiously began, his tone restrained and his cadence slow, as if the topic he wished to broach was one he would rather not talk about. “I… couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t seem to be with us during that meeting. Is everything all right?”

Leon clenched his jaw in displeasure. This was not a conversation that he wanted to have with Roland right now. Or ever, really, but he appreciated why the Paladin was asking. Even without his giants or his unit, Leon was still one of the strongest and most influential people in the army, even if his political power paled in comparison to that of the others. It was imperative for Roland to make sure that everyone was all right before a battle, and that went double for the leadership.

Still, even though he could understand the rationality behind the question, Leon was more than a little annoyed with Naiad still out in the forest somewhere and the matter regarding Valeria lingering in his mind.

Despite these thoughts, Leon didn’t snap at the Paladin. Even when annoyed, impatient, and still processing what Valeria told him, he managed to keep a firm grip on his actions.

“I’m fine, Sir Roland,” Leon said as politely as he could manage.

“With all due respect, Leon, you’re clearly not fine,” Roland countered. “I’ve never seen you so inattentive, so passive when it comes to making battle plans. You didn’t even offer your opinion in that meeting, for the Ancestors’ sake!”

“And with all due respect to you, Sir Roland, you don’t know me that well.” Leon kept his voice calm and measured, but Roland still looked quite taken aback.

The Paladin bitterly smiled, held up his hands in a placating gesture, and stuttered, “I-I’m not looking to anger you, Sir Leon… I’m just… expressing my concerns.”

“I just lost my entire unit, Sir Paladin, and of those few dozen under my command who survived, only Sirs Marcus and Alcander and Dames Alix and Valeria stuck around,” Leon reminded him, the younger man’s voice taking on a harder edge. “I also lost all of my giants, including one that I considered quite a close friend.”

At that reminder, Roland visibly cringed, which caused Leon’s wall to crack a little bit.

“You’re right, I apologize,” Roland whispered. “I suppose the point of me asking hasn’t really changed, though.”

Leon sighed, his face starting burn with shame, and said, “I apologize, too. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I… well, what was the point that you were getting at?”

“That I’m worried, and that I’m here if you need me.”

Leon stared at the Paladin, stunned and a little bit suspicious. But Roland seemed as far as Leon could tell to be completely genuine, and Leon honestly had little idea how to respond. He just sat there completely flabbergasted at the direction Roland had taken their conversation. He’d assumed that Roland’s reasons for reaching out were entirely practical…

“I-I…” he mumbled, feeling awkward in the silence that followed.

“Sir Leon, I’m no stranger to loss, I’ve lost my fair share of friends in my life. I’ve even lost friends during this civil war. Do you remember Sir Andrew and Sir Roger?”

Leon shook his head in the negative.

“They were two of the knights who accompanied me into the Northern Vales.”

“Ah, I, uh, do remember them,” Leon said upon further thought. He hadn’t thought about either of those two knights in years and had honestly completely forgotten about their existence. Given how Roland’s face had fallen just a tad, though, Leon thought he knew what the Paladin was going to say next.

“Both of them have been killed in the time since we sprung Prince August from the Royal Dungeon. Two of my best friends, two men who were so loyal to me that they followed me into the ‘barbarous wasteland’ of the Northern Vales. I won’t pretend to understand whatever pain you’re feeling, but I just want you to know that you’re not alone. You’re not alone.”

A calm earnestness radiated out of the Paladin, and Leon couldn’t even consider the possibility that Roland was being anything less than completely honest and forthright.

Leon wasn’t the sort to cry, his grief was expressed in other ways. But Roland’s statement had his eyes stinging as he tried to keep them dry, and his shame at snapping earlier magnified. All he was able to say was a quiet, “Thank you.”

Roland sighed and was silent for a long moment, letting Leon compose himself, but he soon added to his statement.

“You’re still young, Leon. Hold your friends and loved ones as close as you can, for if you survive this whole shitstorm, there is a frightening amount of time between you and the grave. A terrifying amount of time in which you will lose more people that you care about. More than enough time to make friends and watch them die before you. Enough time to treat everyone around you with the love and kindness that we all deserve, and to uphold the principles of justice and peace that Prince Trajan espoused.

“Sir Leon, please don’t lose yourself in this identity of yours of the uncaring outsider, of the uncivilized barbarian that couldn’t care less about what happens to the people around him and who solves all his problems with violence. It’s no way to live.”

During Roland’s spiel, Leon managed to pull himself back together. The Paladin’s words truly struck a chord within him what with everything that had happened in the past few months, but Leon did an admirable job returning to his usual stoic expression, even if within he was a jumbled mess.

“… You’re quite young yourself…” Leon said, not knowing what else to say after such a heartfelt speech. “You’ve got quite a bit of time ahead of you, too.”

“I’m… not so sure about that…” Roland said as he stared unfocused at the walls of the tent. Leon didn’t know what to make of that, so he settled for giving Roland a questioning look and keeping his peace. However, it seemed that Roland wasn’t too interested in explanations, as he continued, “Sir Leon, I hope you’re as happy as you claim, that you’re comfortable being… who you are. I suppose I just wish that you put in more effort to be… more than that, to be the man that Prince Trajan thought you could be.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow at Roland, wondering briefly if he should be offended by that statement or not. Before he could decide, though, Roland took his expression as one of dissatisfaction and hurried to clarify.

“I’m not saying that you should take up Prince August on his offer in exchange for your assistance with the Northern Territories… I’ve phrased this all wrong… Look, we all have room to grow as people, and it just seems to me that you’re too entrenched in your own way of thinking.”

[He’s not wrong, you know,] came the thunderous voice of the Thunderbird from Leon’s soul realm. [From what I can tell, you care little for these people, and you see the world in simple terms: enemies, allies, and everyone else.]

[Are you saying that I should change, too?] Leon asked bemusedly, though his tone was difficult to maintain with his Ancestor jumping in on this conversation—especially so when he remembered that the Thunderbird lied to him, at least from what Valeria had told him. He felt a little blindsided by all of this, and it just kept getting worse with every passing minute as Roland and now the Thunderbird tried digging deeper and deeper into who he was. He couldn’t say if he was appreciative to hear all of this, but he certainly felt a visceral sense of rejection toward much of this conversation, but he kept his tone with his Ancestor as normal as possible. It wasn’t quite time to be confrontational. [I seem to recall you encouraging me on more than one occasion to have this kind of mindset.]

[I don’t recall that,] the Thunderbird replied, her tone oddly soft and relaxed. [I’ve encouraged you to get your revenge and to think harder about what this Kingdom means to you if it allows you to be in danger.]

[You also encouraged me to destroy my Mind Palace and to be true to myself not even two hours ago,] Leon replied.

[The two are different matters. Your Mind Palace reflects your innermost thoughts and desires, how you see the world and your place in it, how you see yourself. Working to become kinder and more socially competent is always something to strive for, I think.]

[I honestly never thought you’d be telling me to be kinder, I thought you’d advocate for dominating everyone and everything through sheer power alone,] Leon shot back.

[While I would certainly enjoy seeing that, I did not achieve absolutely everything I did alone, I had many friends and allies and family members assisting me in the building of my Clan—I even turned many enemies into friends in my time, and I was stronger for it. It takes a certain political savvy to be what I was, you know. If every problem could be solved by hurling lightning at it, I never would’ve died. As it is, your outlook is too extreme, too black and white. You need to acknowledge that there are other solutions to your problems than reaching for your sword.]

Leon started getting a headache. ‘Where the fuck is all this coming from?!’ he couldn’t help but wonder. Still, as strange as the timing was, he couldn’t deny the accuracy of Roland and the Thunderbird’s words.

[We’ll see,] Leon slowly said. He had to admit, the thought of turning Valeria into an ally resonated with him. Or maybe something more…

‘No… that’s impossible,’ he silently said to himself with a self-deprecating smile.

But it was a nice thought.

“I’m fine, Sir Roland,” Leon eventually said out loud. “Thank you for your concern. I… appreciate it.”

“I’m… glad to hear that,” Roland said, noticing a slight improvement in Leon’s attitude. “If you ever need to talk, Sir Leon, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you,” Leon repeated. “I might just take you up on that one of these days.”

“Until then,” Roland said, his tone turning lighter than it just had been, “how about a drink?”

With a flourish of his hand, Roland produced a tall bottle of wine from his soul realm.

“It’s not very expensive, but it’s my favorite. Comes from a small vineyard near the capital.”

“Sure,” Leon replied with a smile friendlier than just about any he’d ever worn before, “I suppose I can stay for one drink.”

—

Leon wasn’t the only person who was called aside for a private conversation following the meeting of the army’s higher-ups—not long after Valeria left, Gaius came looking for her.

She had been consumed by thoughts of the past few hours, worrying about what her future might hold now that she and Leon had put their cards on the table. Worrying about where her father might be and what his reaction to learning about Leon would be. Worrying about which side she’d choose if she were forced to. Worrying about how willing Leon would be to kill her if she chose her father over him. Her shoulder that Anzu had torn into ached at the thought of fighting Leon for real, but her heart ached even more.

But it wasn’t long that she was lost in these thoughts, for she hadn’t even made it back to the underground camp before Gaius came running after her.

“Dame Valeria,” he quietly said as he appeared at her side, choosing not to be as loud or brash as he so often was when they were kids. “Could we talk for a moment?”

“What about?” Valeria politely inquired, maintaining her pace and direction and not slowing down at all for Gaius.

“I… I suppose I was hoping that we could… you know, talk about us…” Gaius sheepishly said.

It was a bit surprising to see him so unsure of himself, but Valeria had much bigger problems to worry about right now than Gaius’ crush on her. She wasn’t interested in him in that way. Hells, she and him were barely even acquaintances, let alone friends or lovers.

“I have a lot on my mind right now, Sir Tullius, perhaps another time?” she said in a clear, if disguised in politeness, rejection.

“Is it about Sir Ursus?” Gaius asked, eliciting a reproachful glare from Valeria. She was a fifth-tier mage, now, while he was only third-tier, and if she wanted to, she could quite literally tear him in half if he angered her too much.

Fortunately for him, she had far too much self-control to go that far.

“Right, not my business,” Gaius replied. “I guess I’ll just let you go, then. Good luck in the battle, may your Ancestors guide your blade.”

“Same to you,” Valeria replied as she turned her attention back to her thoughts. So quick was she that she didn’t even notice when Gaius stopped walking alongside her, nor did she notice when the nobleman vanished into the warrens of the camp, muttering something about needing to find Leon with a dark look in his eyes.

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