Chapter 244: Fracture XLIX - RE: Monarch - NovelsTime

RE: Monarch

Chapter 244: Fracture XLIX

Author: Eligos
updatedAt: 2025-07-03

They were watchmen. Zinn and Sevran both. I recognized it in their stances, their expressions. The way their posture carried the essence of beleaguered sentries who''d suddenly stood at attention, alert faces and stoic brows masking lapses of boredom, moments before. What they guarded was obvious enough. It appeared to be a dimension gate, nearly identical to the artifact housed beneath the Infernal Enclave. The dwarven inscription and craftsmanship was missing, but the towering shape, and lightly thrumming membrane were immediately recognizable.

    Why they were guarding it—and why guarding a gate in the middle of a barren wasteland would tempt them from their lives—was still impossible to say.

    As I crested the hill, the wounded man in my arms groaning from a mix of pain and relief, they stood to their feet, shifting unsteadily, as if awakening limbs that had slumbered for quite some time.

    From Sevran''s lack of recognition, it became obvious he''d forgotten me. Zinn''s demeanor was different - there was a knowing glint in his eye as he played along with the scenario the lithid had entrenched them in. "Do you wish to transcend?" Sevran extended a hand, palm up. He was adorned in regal armor that, while polished and resplendent, held an ancient quality, bronzed gold breastplate with a series of leather strips hanging from the bottom edge of the cuirass. I''d seen similar armor depicted in illustrations of books detailing ancient infernal spellswords, but in practice it was far more severe than the more fanciful interpretations.

    The man''s demeanor quieted, anxiety etched in his straining face. "Will it hurt?"

    "No more than it already has. Hard part''s over." Zinn stepped forward, a whirlwind of blue and turquoise mana actively weaving together in the palm of his hand.

    The man looked between Zinn and Sevran, then nodded.

    Zinn pressed the weaved spell against the man''s breastplate, where it flattened and expanded outward, covering the wound in his head with glowing energy, spreading all the way down to his missing leg, recreating a glowing, ghostly replacement for the limb. He waited a moment, then made a noise of approval and stepped back, eyeing me. "Should be alright now. Set him down."

    Carefully, I lowered the man''s legs to the mud, supporting him from behind as he regained his balance, watching with wonder as he adjusted to the magical prosthetic.

    "What is your name?" Sevran asked.

    "Phillip." The man answered.

    "And where do you hail from, Phillip?"

    "The Dagathi Wetlands."

    Sevran''s eyes traveled from the man''s face, to the leather carrier on his shoulder. "Ah, I remember. It''s not every day I have the pleasure of observing a spearman of your abilities, let alone one loyal enough to travel hundreds of wingspans to answer the King''s call. You fought well."

    There was an awkward silence as Phillip stared at the ground. "You''re mistaken, commander."

    "Am I?" Sevran raised an eyebrow.

    The man shifted in the mud, staring downward, frustrated in his recollection. "All that training for nothing. Whole life spent swinging a sharpened stick around only to stick a few of ''em before they tripped, trampled, and ripped me to pieces."

    "Did you stick ''em with the pointy end?" Zinn asked.

    The man glanced at him, perplexed. "Of course."

    "And despite being gravely outnumbered, you stood and brought arms against the enemy, sparing no consideration of your own fate?" Sevran asked.

    "I did, commander." The man smiled bitterly, tears glimmering in his eyes.

    "Then you fought well." Sevran told him, proffering his arm again. This time the man took it, and Sevran pulled him into an embrace. "Well done."

    Zinn retrieved a stone slab from his satchel, jotting the man''s name upon it and then waiting expectantly. When the soldier seemed lost, he cleared his throat. "I''ll need the names of your next of kin, and the individuals you''d like your stipend disbursed to."

    "Of course. My father and sister are all I have. Should be easy enough to find, they work out of the same tailor shop..." The man continued, listing the names of his loved ones, and giving directions for the payout of his service fund. As he spoke, Zinn grew more withdrawn, the embodiment of quiet frustration, clearly torn between maintaining the facade and breaking character entirely. Sevran remained unflappable, picking up Zinn''s slack without so much as an aggrieved look.

    Zinn fidgeted. "And when they''re notified, what would you like us to tell them?"

    "Oh." Phillip paused, thinking the question over for a long time before he answered. "I guess... don''t bother mourning. Because I''m kicking around in Valhalla, now. I''ll save them a place in the Elysian halls whenever they''re ready to make their own way. But not anytime soon. Not for a good long while. Tyrie still needs to live, experience life away from the shop. And... uh... the old man''s got too many years in him to even think about it. Don''t hold onto the gold outta guilt, either. Spend it on renovations. Fix the damn floor already. If you have any left over, buy some cheese, maybe a little wine. Eat, imbibe. Celebrate that I finally fuckin'' did something with my life.”

    Zinn''s expression grew darker. His pen had stopped halfway through Phillip''s message, and his shoulders were shaking.

    Smoothly, as if it was rehearsed, Sevran stepped in front of him, offering Phillip his arm. The soldier took it for support as they strode towards the portal, conversing quietly, leaving Zinn and I alone.

    My banner lieutenant stared at me with something approaching hostility, giving the impression he was displeased with my continued presence. "Do you wish to transcend?"

    No. Obviously not. But the words died in my throat, definitive yet unutterable. My many deaths stretched outward in my mind''s eye. Skewered, shot, burned alive, or sundered limb from limb. No matter what it was, it never stuck. Supposedly there was a limit. But I was beginning to wonder if the magic that fueled the reversals would outlast the integrity of my mind and soul.

    "It isn''t my time." I finally said.

    "Maybe you can get through to him, then." Zinn cocked his head.

    "What does that mean?"

    "Naivety." Sevran returned, regal bearing slightly relaxed now that the man had departed, jutting a finger in my direction. "He has yet to realize the obvious."

    I nodded along, taking in this new side of Sevran for the first time. "About me?"

    Not trusting myself to push Sevran anymore without losing my temper, I approached Zinn from the side where he could see me. "Here for the same reason he is?"

    "Not exactly," Zinn said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I''ve been aware for a while now. Sevran pulled me out of the initial delusion, but when he refused to leave himself..." He glanced at the infernal. "Well, someone had to stay and watch over him until you showed up."

    "I appreciate the loyalty." I said, studying the distraught infernal from a distance.

    "Not sure my efforts did him any good." Zinn swiped downward at full speed.

    "Mine neither." I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose, trying to come up with a solution. "To be honest, this is unexpected. Do you know anything about him I don''t?"

    "Well..." Zinn gave Sevran a long look. "There''s not a lot to know, outside his military accomplishments. He... uh... makes a lot of house calls, checking on the wounded or men out for special circumstances. Despite his respectable appearance, when the men go celebrating—or commiserating—he''s always the last to leave the pubs. That makes him sound like a lush, but it''s not like that. The spadetail can stretch a beer for hours.”

    "That doesn''t—" I trailed off, as a certain familiarity struck me. "How long since he''s visited family in the Enclave?"

    "Not since I''ve known him. A little strange, but not uncommon. Sends them gold frequently."

    Because the most reasonable thing a person who believes themselves to be cursed can do, is avoid any possibility of bringing misfortune to their loved ones.

    It was all so familiar.

    "Can you find your way back? They need you out there."

    Zinn leaned to the side to get a look at Sevran. "What about him?"

    "I''ll take care of it." When Zinn didn''t move, I tried again. "Trust me, lieutenant."

    My banner lieutenant hesitated, then sheathed his blade and held a fist to his chest in salute. He faded from existence slowly, small, fingertip sized pieces of him flaking away like ash.

    I approached Sevran, circling while he remained static. "Immortality is such a god''s damned bother, isn''t it?"

    His expression didn''t go blank, and his eyes still tracked me as I approached the gate, searching its pearlescent depths. Good. Whether it was because we were in a shared dream, or my wording didn''t technically refer to my actual resurrections, the typical failsafe didn''t trigger. "I... was under the impression that was a rumor. Mythmaking. That you were simply in hiding and the stories of your death were overblown."

    A bitter chuckle escaped me. "No. Unfortunately, the blades and magic that disemboweled me were very real. As was the sword that severed my connection to that mortal shell."

    "Stop. You shouldn''t say anymore." Sevran interjected suddenly, eyes darting back and forth, searching for ears unseen. "Not here."

    "It doesn''t matter. The lithid already knows everything. Or at least, enjoys pretending it does." I flipped the raven to the sky and lowered my arm, scowling. "I understand how it feels to remain, when everyone around you is slipping away. To survive death and find it wanting. To fail and have others pay the toll. To hate yourself for what you couldn''t do, sparing no kindness or consideration for what you''ve achieved."

    "Most would consider such a condition an improvement on the norm." Sevran led, testing me.

    "They are fools."

    His jaw worked. "So you do understand."

    I nodded.

    "For as long as I can remember, a dream has plagued me. I find myself alone in a wasteland, in the eye of a blizzard. There''s no one living. Only bodies. No matter how far I walk, or how loudly I call, no one responds. No one is left." He recounted with muted dread.

    "The end of all things." I replied. The details were different, but similar nightmares came to me often. "There''s much at stake. Most of it beyond my control. I will fight like all the hells to protect this regiment, and Uskar beyond it. That doesn''t mean we''ll win. But if the worst happens, and the future we both fear comes to pass, I''ll make you a promise. You will not wander that wasteland alone."

    Sevran stared at me, wonder and disbelief warring in equal measure until he suddenly barked a laugh. "I''ve never met another foolish enough to claim he cannot meet his end."

    "Then we are both fools."

    "Bound by the stupidity of fate."

    A smile played across my face, springing up unbidden. Sevran looked so unburdened, the sense of relief palpable. It didn''t matter that the promise was one-sided. That if Ragnarok came to pass, it would likely be me trudging alone through the blizzard, world crashing down around me. In that moment, bringing him peace brought me a fraction of the same. It was enough for now.

    There was a pause, and the Sevran looked around. "How did Zinn exit so easily?"

    I thought on that. "His trial was over. He was only staying behind for you. If it''s anything like mine, the key to breaking out is doing something drastic, carrying out an action or making a decision you wouldn''t typically consider."

    "Well." Sevran turned back towards the gate. "It''s rather obvious when you put it like that." He turned back to me and smiled. "Shall we?"

    We walked together through the gate, light burning away our surroundings until there was nothing left.

    The blotted meadows faded away to the stench of sewer, quiet solitude crescendoing to the sounds of battle and someone screaming in my ear.

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