Reborn From the Cosmos

Miniarc-Villains-29

“He’s not a rebel?”

When Samuel returned to the camp the following morning, the first thing he did was find Sir Frost to check in on their captive. It wasn’t that the prince doubted the Hall’s ability to interrogate someone. He doubted their ability to act unhindered. He also trusted his knights far more.

Not that he wanted credit for unmasking the rebels. The loud man might have been swiped away under the camp’s notice but he intended to take anything they found straight to Alyssa. If there was one thing that could restore the refugees’ faith in the Hall, it was bringing down the people that had kicked them at their lowest. Samuel could then offload his unwanted reputation onto the heroes of the hour and wouldn’t have to worry about the undue attention focused on him spawning any unforeseen circumstances.

He’d been hopeful when the day started. He should have expected to have those hopes dashed, but the speed of it left a scowl on his face.

“Exactly that,” Sir Frost muttered. Samuel stood with the two knights charged with his protection near the entrance of the camp, their conversation drowned out by the commotion of Kern assembling the day’s work group. The refugees were emboldened by the previous day’s success and many more had signed up to help. With the situation looking up, the misers in the Hall were reassured that their efforts weren’t being dropped into the bottomless pits, and they’d donated more resources to encourage the refugees’ progressive attitudes, mostly wagons and tools. It was a chaotic scene, but the people were full of cheer. Their preoccupation and the stiff backs of the knights were as effective as thick walls for warding off any curious thoughts.

“His presence was orchestrated, I’m sure of it.”

“In a way. The loudmouth was encouraged to speak up, make the rebels’ ideology known, but calling it a plan is a stretch. More like they simply let a few wild dogs off the leash to rouse the birds.” Sir Frost huffed, the sound almost a hiss coming through his helmet. “It wasn’t a complete waste of time. We got a few locations where they hold their meetings and a name. The Last Stand.”

“And who do they presume to stand against?”

“The enemies of Quest. Which, if you believe them, is everyone. The king is  tyrant that oppresses them by restricting who can learn magic and robbing the city’s wealth, the Hall is full of hypocrites who do nothing about it, and Lourianne Tome is a foreign agent manipulating the north to leave the kingdom ripe for conquest.”

Samuel grimaced. Since the day they started nonlethal fires in the camp, the prince had been holding out hope that the rebels were just miscreants taking drastic actions for the right reasons. That, with proper guidance and reassurance, they could be saved, that energy redirected to something useful.

But no one with good intentions, or good sense, would resot to such obvious fearmongering. If the Last Stand wanted to unite the people, fear was the worst emotion to inspire them with. A frightened mob was one of the most unpredictable forces in existence. They were too coordinated for it to be a result of thoughtlessness. They wanted to strip the people of their reason, to make them act recklessly. What Samuel couldn’t understand was why. What would a bunch of idiots badmouthing the people in power accomplish?

“Does he know of any plots to cause more problems today?”

Sir Frost scoffed. “The fool doesn’t know anything, but I’d assume there will be. He and others like him are convinced that once the city is reclaimed, the Tome woman will move onto the next stage of her plot to weaken the kingdom; eradicating the people of Quest to the last woman and child.”

Samuel pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the tension he could feel building between his brows. “Great. Nameless and directionless chaos we can do nothing about.”

“So it seems.”

“I almost want to call it intelligent.” If there was a proper enemy, the knights would have quashed them already. Instead, the rebels hid behind the victims. If Samuel or the Hall acted against them, it would validate the nonsense the rebel was spreading. It was the perfect way to sow discord, a screen to hide their true plans.

“A conniving intelligence,” Ewan agreed. “Like the rat that knows just what walls to burrow in.”

“Rats don’t think,” Sir Frost corrected. “They eat and shit as they please without a care for how it screws over decent people.”

“Enough. We won’t understand madmen. What can we do to minimize the danger to the workers?”

“I’ve already seen to it, highness,” the older knight said with a roll of his shoulders. “That redhead said there was no way she could get more people here so we came up with the idea to have the hunters guard their own.”

“She would sanction armor a faction within the camp?” Ewan asked with a skeptic frown.

“Course not. They won’t be swinging anything but their dicks, heh. But I doubt the rebels will have much better. Sides, they’ve got their magic and the right training. All they need is heart.”

The prince was doubtful. After all, brave men were in short supply. “How many have volunteered for such a duty?”

“Last I heard, the boy had over a hundred willing.”

Or maybe heroic men were more plentiful than Samuel thought. “Truly?”

“It’s not surprising,” Ewan mused. “What else is there to do? Mourn their dead friends and family while lying in the mud?”

Sir Frost grunted in agreement.

“I’ll take your words for it,” Samuel said, motioning for them to drop the subject. In the end, it was the refugees’ business. “After the work, I want to speak with the group. Arrange it.”

Samuel had hoped to offload his reputation onto the Hall, but Kern was his second chance. The acolyte’s dissatisfaction with the Hall might cause problems but he was the best out of the prince’s very limited choices. At the very least, Samuel was sure he would use the spotlight to help the city to the best of his ability.

“As you wish.”

“Have you received word from Father yet?”

Ewan fought back a frown as he shook his head, the tightness of his jaw giving away his mood. “Yes. We’ve been commanded to remain in Quest and assist the agent of the crown that is being sent to take charge of the situation.”

“What does agent mean? Who is he sending?” What Samuel really wanted to know was the kind of mind that was being tasked with cleaning up the grand mess. Was it a soldier, a general meant to pacify the area? The destruction of Quest was a severe mark on the king’s reputation. It called into question his strength and the strength of the crown. Subjugating the ones responsible was the only way to repair the damage but the prince didn’t see that going well. In the best-case scenario, what little remained of the city would be ground to dust.@@novelbin@@

Better his father stick to his usual passive nature and send a diplomat. For all he disliked her and wanted her to pay for her deeds, Samuel didn’t think of Lourianne Tome as a villain. She could be reasoned with, if the right person was doing the reasoning. A beautiful woman, preferably. One that could bring herself to flatter the pervert despite being surrounded by the ugliness the deviant had caused.

“The Butterfly.”

Samuel fought to wipe the instinctual grimace of horror from his face. He supposed it was a rational decision. The Butterfly was certainly a beautiful woman that could ignore the tragedy around her while remaining perfectly charming. Whether her presence was a good idea or not…Samuel didn’t know the woman personally, but he’d heard rumors. She was effective but her methods weren’t…clean. They were the opposite. So much so that the prince was considering writing an angry letter to his father, begging him to reconsider. Or abandoning his academic year and getting far, far away.

He soothed himself with the knowledge that it wasn’t his responsibility and forcibly pushed the concerns from his mind. “Then we better make sure we’ve wrapped up these matters before she gets here.”