Cael locked the door to Arlen's room and sighed.
"Speaking like Arlen will get old quickly…" He looked around the room for anything amiss. Nothing seemed suspicious. The only change to the room was a single plate with a note at Arlen's desk.
Walking to the desk, he passed the mirror. It was brand new. A white mask with a glowing pair of eyes stared back at Cael. The figure's skin looked like porcelain, it was his reflection. Remembering what he did to the mirror that morning, Cael looked at the floor. No glass shards. The room was cleaned after he left.
The wooden plate was full of cold soup, and the note read: "Clean up after yourself and tell me before you disappear into thin air!!! —Elyra." He examined the note closer. It was nothing special. The soup smelled nice, but the assassin didn't dare eat another person's cooking.
"So she has the key to this place. I get why it's so empty now." Cael can't leave his stuff here. He'd need a hiding place.
He put his bag down on the bed and started pacing back and forth, trying to brainstorm a way he could keep his equipment hidden but close enough for access until—
Creak.
The floor creaked under his foot. It wouldn't be odd most of the time, but when Cael looked down, a glisten caught his eye. He crouched down and took a closer look. Every time he moved his head, something reflected the moonlight coming from the window. It was vacant under the floorboards.
Finding the spot he was looking for, he pulled out a knife from under his shirt and stuck it in the gap between the wooden boards, managing to rip it off with some difficulty.
"Who would've thought that my little tantrum would be useful?" He put the board aside and lit a candle to investigate his new hiding spot.
Holding the candle inside the hole, he was surprised to find it already in use. Stacks of books were neatly organized under the floor. Reading their titles, Cael knew all the books.
"That sly son of a bitch…" Arlen bought two copies of the books Cael requested. One for Cael, and the other for himself.
Things made a lot of sense now. Arlen always seemed to know as much as Cael in all topics. It left him feeling like he could never catch up to the Hero. The more he learned, the less confident he became of reaching the same level as the legendary Lightbearer. But if that same Lightbearer was learning as fast as he was, with the same materials… of course he could never catch up.
"Why did I just figure it out…" He let out a sigh of understanding.
The space under the floorboards still had room, so Cael picked up the glass shard and put his bag there, taking out the Hero's helmet from it. Putting the board back in its place, he threw the shard on the desk and reached out to the sword leaning on the wall.
Holding it up, he was reminded by its weight, and his hands wobbled.
"Vigil…"
Cael recalled the day after they managed to take the sword back from the second Ashborn general.
"Arlen… Did you know this would happen?"
***
Reacting to the sunlight, Cael woke up from his sleep. Yet when opening his eyes, he was met with a starry sky and a bright moon. Sitting up in search of the light—
It was Arlen.
With Vigil in his hands, the Hero took his stance—grounded, immovable. He was radiating a white flame that filled the gaps in his armor and enveloped his newly acquired sword. Vigil shrieked as if its thirst for power was quenched.
It had been three months since they started their journey. They were making considerable progress, defeating two Ashborn generals of the ten and taking Vigil back from them. They made an incredible team. Arlen was able to defeat anything in his path, but with Cael's help, they would do it in half the time.
Cael's strategy and stealth, coupled with Arlen's unrivaled power, made taking care of the generals nothing but a distraction to keep them from the Worldwound for as long as possible. And they knew it. They had to take care of the generals and their lackeys so they didn't go out of control after the Worldwound's destruction.
Arlen moved his sword up and started his beautiful dance. Cael had seen it a thousand times. Precise, devastating movements honed through thousands of winning battles.
Slash, thrust, twist.
Vigil screamed as it cut the air.
Every action had its purpose. It was different from Cael's precision, yet it led to the same outcome and was deliberate in its destruction.
With each slash, the Hero's light got brighter and brighter still.
Until it overcame the sun.
Holding what could be mistaken for the sun above his head, readying for the final strike, then—
The light dimmed until it completely faded as he sheathed the sword and turned around.
"Sorry if I woke you." Arlen removed his helmet, revealing his blond hair and handsome face.
"You're fine. It's about time I took watch." Cael waved his hand, telling him not to worry about it.
Crack.
The campfire cracked. Its fire was overshadowed by Arlen's, but it was always there, lit.
The Hero set his sword carefully next to it and sat opposite his companion.
"You getting the hang of that thing?" asked Cael as he took out his daggers to sharpen.
"Yes. I can finally use all of my power." Arlen's eyes moved to the bag full of broken swords.
Cael followed him and grimaced at the amount of maintenance he had to put up with each time the Hero decided to use more power than his swords could handle.
"At least now I don't have to annoy you with that…" He let out a sigh of guilt.
"Seriously, if I didn't pick up some blacksmithing from Gorran, we would've been out of swords a month ago. You would be hopeless without me." A smirk appeared on his face. "I still can't believe the church was gonna send you on your own." A disgusted expression replaced it.
"…" Arlen's eyes narrowed and he stared at the fire.
"Did you see what just the two of us managed to do? Imagine they sent the army with us. We could've been done already." He complained, showing his confusion with the church.
"It's tradition." He answered, not believing his own words. "Even you aren't allowed to accompany me, Cael." He locked eyes with his friend.
"Accompanying you? As I said to the church, I, as an adventurer, decided to kill the Worldwound. We just happened to travel the same path." He gave a mischievous look.
The Hero smiled. "You know, Cael, I'm jealous of you."
"What!?" He was taken aback.
"You're free. You came here of your own choice." His eyes glowed with the fire's light.
"Ha, I would've never thought that the Hero would be jealous of my pointless self." Amused, Cael expressed his doubt.
"Being pointless rids you of responsibility and expectations." He was serious.
"…Don't give me that bullshit. You were brought up with a silver spoon, groomed since childhood to be the Hero. Everyone dreams of being the Hero." Even Cael wanted to become a savior of sorts for the Slum kids.
"That's all I was to them. The Hero. I was provided with everything I needed, that's true. But they treat me the same way they treat the Slums people." Cael almost exploded at that declaration.
"Not human." But Arlen finished his sentence before he could.
"Are you telling me you don't want to save the people? From what I saw, you'd love to protect them." Cael pushed for his motive.
"That's the only reason I'm doing this. The church is corrupt. The Slums are becoming worse by the day. The kingdom relies on the Hero's power to avoid war, so the knights are a pitiful sight…" Sadness filled Arlen's face as he turned to look at the distant skies.
"Hey Cael?" Cael followed his gaze but was unsure of what he was so focused on.
"Yeah?" He looked at the back of the Hero's head, waiting for him to speak.
"You would make a better Hero than me." Arlen's tone was still serious.
"Pfft, of all things to say. You're hilarious." But Cael could only take it as a joke.
"Even growing up in the Slums, you put other people before yourself. You built yourself up from nothing."
"…" Cael was uncomfortable with compliments.
"You rival me in knowledge and strength, even with that huge gap in privileges. Imagine if our lives flipped. I'm not sure if I could've done what you did, but I'm sure you'd do better than me." Arlen's blond hair flowed with the wind as he spoke.
"Can you stop this already?" Cael couldn't take it any longer.
"If I die, take over for me." His head turned to face his companion.
"Why would I do that?" Unable to maintain eye contact, he asked.
"Valis Thorne's relationships with its neighbors are strained. Seravaal, Dravengarde, and even Ostvenya have been eying it. I saw multiple reports about them expanding their militaries. Our fool for a king is using me as a deterrent and neglecting his military." Arlen's green eyes burned with passion.
"…" Cael knew about it all. His missions allowed him to have conversations with all sorts of people.
"It's a matter of time until they strike. My presence is just buying time. War will plague Valis Thorne and everyone in it will suffer. Promise me, Cael, if I die, do everything in your power, buy as much time as you can to postpone the war."
Both paused, staring at each other. A gust blew past them, feeding the campfire's flame.
"Fine, fine. I'll do it, I promise. But it's gonna be a major pain in my ass, so just don't die, alright? Haha, as if that would happen. This is pointless, you know." Cael broke the serious mood and gave his word.
Hearing his words, Arlen breathed out as if a massive load was off his shoulder and smiled.
"Yeah, I won't die." he didn't sound convinced.
The Hero's eyes focused on the horizon again.
"The sun will rise nonetheless."
***
"…" Cael mimicked the Hero's stance. "I wonder if he somehow knew…" and closed his eyes.
He watched Arlen perform his dance every night, so he knew the moves by heart. However, actually replicating them was a tall task.
Slash, thrust, twist. He followed every action that Arlen took, yet it was not the same.
Cael's body was sluggish, held back by his injuries and the weight of Vigil. He couldn't move like Arlen did, and he doubted he could even if he fully recovered. The main difference between them was experience. The Hero honed his style with every fight.
But don't be fooled, even if his moves weren't up to his standards, a single slash of his unfamiliar sword would be devastating to anyone.
Sweat dripped from Cael's face as he practiced the Hero's style until an idea came to mind. He sheathed the sword, set it on the bed, and took out his daggers.
He took a stance—not his, but Arlen's. Replacing the heavy sword with weapons that suited him, he stood grounded, immovable. He didn't radiate a flame; it was quite the opposite. His presence was lost.
He moved his daggers up and started his friend's beautiful dance once more. Precise, fast movements honed through thousands of winning battles. His daggers screamed as they cut the air. Changing the dance to match his style formed something new. The sun's dance, practiced by a silent killer.
Delivering the last strike, Cael's breath grew heavy. He put down the daggers, and another idea came to mind when he looked at the sheathed Vigil.
He took the sword in his left hand and its sheath in his right. Vigil's sheath was made of the same alloy as the sword itself, so it was very durable. He would see Arlen use it as a shield on multiple occasions.
He took a stance—not Arlen's, but his. But before he could execute his vision, his left hand gave in. The sword was too heavy for him to carry with both arms comfortably, let alone one-handed. It was as if Vigil didn't deem him worthy enough to wield it.
"Not strong enough… not yet."