fics I read

Metal groaned and sparks flew as the two of them clashed, each of them fully invested in the fight, a newfound enjoyment rising to the surface.

It was a liberating experience.

Less than two days had passed since the selection began and the event people were beginning to call the "Day of Red Rain" occurred, yet if asked he would have said they felt like months.

After retrieving Felt from Julius, he and Reinhard quickly retreated to the Astrea manor, eager to leave the day in their memories, yet it quickly became apparent that the attack was only an indication of how things would be for the foreseeable future.

It had never come to mind how much work would be required to participate in the selection, lest he falls behind, yet already his status as a foreigner was causing him to start lagging behind the rest of the pack, having to scramble to gain any headway at all.

It didn't help that the minute his name was connected to what happened in the capital his already unstable footing would lose even more stability. It wouldn't matter that he was attempting to stop Elsa, she wasn't around to have their ire pointed at her, so naturally, it would fall on him instead.

The masses could be a fickle lot sometimes, and honestly, he couldn't blame them.

He'd let them down with his actions, not to mention his own personal feelings.

Deftly maneuvering to avoid the glistening blade of Reid, he continued to be lost in thought, his body seeming to act independently of his mind, uncaring that now probably wasn't the greatest time for such a thing.

Elsa shouldn't have escaped, there was no conceivable way it should have happened, but it did, and there was nothing to blame but his own actions.

He outscored Elsa in every possible metric, he was stronger, faster, and more experienced in battle, and his mana could strengthen him even further beyond human limits, yet despite the lopsided conditions at play she had managed to escape.

The fire gem had been a risky play, but it added another element he had to contend with, not to mention seeing as there could have been an untold number of people in the area he had to limit himself to nondestructive attacks.

The winds that ordinarily hid Excalibur could be released at a moment's notice, the vortex it created capable of tearing through the area and severely injuring anyone if it hit them directly, but an attack in the environment Elsa created would have only magnified the devastation, the gale it produced serving only to fan the flames and destabilized already at-risk structures.

Retreating into flaming buildings limited his maximum speed due to sudden turns and uneven footing, it seemed as if the entire scenario had been rigged against him.

But that wasn't an excuse, the only thing that truly caused him to lose had been his own hesitance. He could have unleashed The Hammer of The Wind King, he could have used his mana to increase his strength and speed to monstrous levels.

Yet he didn't, all because he was afraid of the consequences, afraid that his actions could have ended someone's life. And what became of that choice?

Elsa had escaped, and by not preventing her reign of terror he had little doubt that his choice to hold himself back had gotten someone else killed.

Perhaps he should have abandoned his restraints, ending the threat before it could have a chance to slither away.

He didn't know what was right or wrong anymore; at this rate, he never would.

Red flickered in his vision, its crimson hue latching onto anything and everything, burning deep in his soul, he wouldn't allow it, not again, never again.

The wind's shielding Excalibur released themselves in an instant, tearing through the air, clearing the flames from his vision, yet as his mind slowed and his vision came back into focus not a trace of flames could be seen, instead, tens of yards away was a prostate figure, his crimson hair contrasting against the verdant shade of the grass.

The front of his uniform was torn, the winds tearing the fabric with such force that it began to separate it into individual threads, and a small trickle of red was slowly starting to stain the fabric.

Instantly his mind was grounded again, the reality of what just occurred settling in his mind with a weight that threatened to split his head.

With frenzied feet he made his way to Reinhard, his lips immediately singing an apology.

"Reinhard, I didn't-"

As if anticipating his words Reinhard raised a hand to quiet him. But otherwise remained laying on the ground.

"I've always wanted to experience this, alas it seems it had to come at the expense of my uniform."

He wanted to chuckle at Reinhard's attempt at a joke, both from his words and the fact that the only thing he seemingly displayed any care for was the fact his uniform was damaged, nevertheless, he repressed the urge to chuckle, putting a stern face on instead.

"I think the uniform is the least of your worries, lets's get you inside and bandaged."

He wasn't a mage, so he was afraid Reinhard would have to deal with more conventional healing, but he'd feel guilty if he didn't help dress a wound he created.

He helped Reinhard up from the ground, who quickly retrieved his blade, locking it once more in the sheath it almost never seemed to leave.

It was another oddity Reinhard carried about him.

He motioned for Reinhard to follow him before briskly starting to make his way out of the training grounds towards the manor, yet he only made it a few steps before sensing Reinhard had yet to move.

As he turned to beckon Reinhard once more, numerous softly growing lights came into view, all of them seeming to dance in the air, slowly circling around Reinhard.

Vibrant reds, deep blues, viridescent greens, and more seemed to coalense around Reinhard, each tiny dot softly glowing as its color grew muted eventually deciding to leave the group and disappear into the foliage.

After only a few moments the lights disappeared, leaving Reinhard standing in the middle of the training ground, the only evidence of their earlier activities being the damage to Reinhard's uniform, the wound that once decorated his chest completely gone.

Reinhard seemed to read his thoughts, answering the unspoken question he had yet to speak.

"My apologies, it seemed I neglected to inform you of this, due to my unique… condition spirits naturally seek me out and attempt to heal me, you needn't worry about my wounds, they weren't severe regardless."

"I see," Arthur responded, his mind working overtime at yet another mystery Reinhard presented, "Regardless I think its better if we head inside-"

"Respectfully I disagree," Reinhard interjected, his eyes leveled at Arthur, "Something has been nagging at me for quite some time, and the power you displayed earlier finally solidified my next actions."

"Felt could be waking up at any moment, we can discuss this later."

"This cannot wait." Reinhard spoke, "I fear if I do not speak now, I will never have the chance again."

"Something has been bothering you."

Reinhard's words struck his core, unleashing the torrent of thoughts that plagued him during their duel, yet he forced himself to adorn the mask he knew so well, forcing a look of bafflement to his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about, perhaps your imagining things." He responded, carefully to keep his tone indifferent.

A sad smile appeared on Reinhard's face moments after he spoke, yet the determination in his eyes didn't waver, "That is a lie."

"Are you seriously-"

"The Divine Protection of Wind Reading allows its holder to detect lies."

Arthur froze as he processed his words before mustering a reply. "I was… unaware you possessed such a power."

It had been a long time since someone had last called him out like this, yet as the silence continued to drag on, it seemed as if Reinhard was at least going to allow it to come out on his own terms.

As he closed his eyes, trying, and failing to suppress a low sigh, he could almost see the pale snow-colored hair of the last person that had truly asked him if he was all right. If only he had realized sooner, if only he had spoken more often, if only-

Fabric shuffled, prompting his eyes to open, a mop of red hair visible at the bottom of his vision, as Reinhard relaxingly sat on the freshly destroyed earth.

"Don't let me interrupt your musings," Reinhard smiled, "I'll be here when you're ready."

A traitorous voice questioned the authenticity of his words, yet it seemed the words had firmly broken the illusion he had been caught in earlier, no matter how hard he concentrated the visage of the white-haired girl never returned.

Part of him wanted to run, to continue to grasp at the role he'd played these last few days, but another part of him told him that doing so would merely lead him to the same early grave it had last time, and when confronted with that choice, what option did he have?

Sitting himself down on the ground next to Reinhard, he opened his mouth, hesitating for but a moment before speaking, laying his thoughts bare for the first time in years.

The smell of smoke and charred wood lingered in the area, and black skeletons of buildings groaned as they struggled against gravity.

Knights rushed down the narrow corridors not filled with debris, and what had once been a town square now housed a plethora of hastily erected tents, each serving as a temporary morgue, keeping a plethora of corpses out of sight, and hopefully out of mind.

It wasn't enough, each step that he took stabbed at his heart, the weight of the situation increasing with every moment he stayed in the area.

Every image made Julius Juukulius want to hurl, but that individual was locked in the deepest recesses of his heart, a suave persona known only as 'the greatest knight' carefully constructed on the few true faucets of him that remained.

Ever since the incident at the palace, his chest continued to burn at the mystery that the bowel hunter had spurred.

Despite his reservations at the palace, he had complied with Arthur's request, based on his limited knowledge of the blond-haired candidate, the assassin didn't stand a chance, and with Reinhard in the mix he had already been planning the raven-haired woman's funeral.

And yet the unthinkable happened, not only had Elsa escaped, but she also unleashed hell on earth. Even in the castle, as far away as they were, there had been a shift in the air before a deafening roar tore through the air.

Every fiber of his being had screamed at him to drop Felt and leave, but he was bound both by his promise to Arthur, as well as his oath to his lady, if he left and she came to be harmed…

The world around him came back in stunning clarity as he forced himself out of his thoughts, the past was exactly that, unmovable and unchanging, it did no good to dwell on it as he was currently.

Yet even now his chest burned with the worry that the mere thought had provoked, its presence manifesting as an insatiable urge to return to his lady. He had to remind himself that she was safe, protected by her mercenary group, the Fangs of Iron.

He had to do this, a part of him knew he would forever regret this if he didn't follow his instincts now.

It was with a heavy heart that he made his way through the war-torn streets, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

Intermittently as he walked, other knights would stop him, pestering him with curt questions and barely hidden longing, every one of them having their once pristine uniforms discolored and almost certainly stained a permanent pink.

Handling corpses would do that.

Yet his eyes remained fixated on his ultimate goal as he politely nudged them away before making his way to the first in a series of once towering buildings that had been reduced to rubble.

With a heavy hand and an even heavier heart, he began to slowly pick away at the rubble, the pit in his stomach merely seeming to grow larger with each piece of debris that he removed.

Time seemed to stand still as he worked, the pile of rubble in front of him growing smaller as the one behind him grew larger.

By lightly reinforcing his body with mana he was able to comb through the rubble of the building in a mere fraction of the time it would ordinarily take, offering the ruins a final look over before diligently moving on to the next.

The next few hours were spent in a rhythmic manner, clearing the ruins of one building before moving on to the next. The only thing of note was how little of note he found, he had been expecting to find a handful of corpses by now, having already cleared the rubble of nearly a dozen buildings. Yet to his surprise, and to his relief, he hadn't stumbled across a single one.

Yet, just by the sheer amount of rubble he was clearing, his luck couldn't last, shortly after he moved to a new pile of debris, he spotted the first sign that his first true hurdle had just begun.

Hidden under the debris he had just removed was a small hand, its palette a deathly white, snaking into a larger pile of debris.

After a few moments more of work, the body of a small child slowly came into view, her once bright blond hair now matted with blood, while the rest of her body sported numerous small gashes and cuts likely sustained when the building finally collapsed. Yet the most telling sign was the utter lack of rise or fall of her chest, an eerie stillness over her body that shouldn't be present in any child.

An icy chill gripped his heart as he took in the sight before him. Like a puppet with cut strings, the so-called 'Finest Knight" was reduced to a statue by the corpse of a single child.

It wasn't the first time his sight had been cursed by the sight of a corpse, but it was one of the few times it had been of a child, and never before had he been faced with the weight of carrying it.

What have I…

He stumbled forward as he finally regained control of his body, slowly lowering himself next to the girl, his hand stopping just before he could touch her, silently hovering above her pale skin.

Death was a truly terrible sensation, carried only in part by the one experiencing it, but what became of those who had to touch death while they still walked the earth?

With all the gentleness he could muster he slowly lifted the girl in his arms, cradling her cold body as tightly as he could, as if he was attempting to impart whatever lingering warmth he could into the girl for as long as he held her.

The walk back to the hastily constructed morgue was a long one, he possessed neither Reinhard's ability to leap across large distances in seconds nor the inhumane limits that Arthur could enhance his body to with his mana, yet even if he could have completed the journey in seconds he wouldn't have, the child's last human contact shouldn't be someone desperate to dispose of her.

After an age, the sight of the camp once again greeted his eyes, the looming presence of the morgue weighing on both his mind and body. Yet this time, the makeshift mortuary was home to a pair of living souls, a middle-aged man clad in the unmistakable uniform of the royal guard, along with a child that couldn't have been much older than the one in his arms. He only got a moment to ponder on why someone would bring a child to this place before the pair noticed him.

The knight's reaction was one he was intimately familiar with, immediate recognition, quickly followed by a pensive sadness the instant he saw the child in his arms. The boy however had a much more… interesting reaction, his vision seemed to flow right over him, uncaring about the uniform he wore, instead his eyesight immediately zeroed in on the girl in his arms, confusion rippling across his face, his eyes widening for but a moment before a look of complete disbelief tore across his face.

With a determination that was rarely seen in someone so young, the child took off towards him, deftly managing to avoid his escort's half-hearted attempt at a grab, having not expected the rather strange scenario when a child willfully ran towards a corpse.

To his credit, Julius attempted to spare whatever innocence the child had left, angling himself towards the boy in a way that hid the girl behind. After all, this wasn't a scenario any child should find themselves in. Yet the tenacity of the boy, and the lack of ways to hide the body ultimately secured his defeat, the child catching his arm and preventing him from turning away.

With an internal sigh, Julius stopped resisting, allowing the child a full, unadulterated view of the girl, expecting a look of horror, revulsion, fear, to nestle its way on the boy's face.

Yet the emotion that eventually erupted on his face wasn't any of the ones he expected, instead, it was one that could have belonged to someone much younger than himself, unaware of the concept of death, confusion.

"But, how? I saw you with-"

"Boy!" The other knight interjected, having caught up to the two of them, "I told you not to wander off, not to mention your interrupting another knight in his duties."

The boy's gaze snapped to the knight, no doubt crafting a fiery retort on his tongue if his expression held any weight, yet Julius spoke before any more words could be uttered, his voice soft, unable to muster the typical tone he spoke in.

"No harm was done, after the events of the past day I believe we could forgive something as small as an emotional outburst."

The small raise of the knight's eyebrow was the only hint that he expected the conversation to go in a different direction before he offered a short curt nod.

"Now, I believe you were saying something." He spoke, offering the boy to begin his thoughts anew.

"I just don't understand how she died." The boy whispered, a haunted look appearing on his face.

…

What?

Despite his best efforts, his confusion must have been apparent on his face as the boy hastily continued.

"I saw the Sword Saint personally escort her to safety during the incident, I lost sight of her in the crowd not long after, but that was in an entirely separate district..."

Reinhard had rescued her? He was aware that he'd primarily focused on clearing the inferno of civilians, but he'd assumed that the girl had asphyxiated before he could reach her, the lack of burn scars suggesting that the flames had never directly reached her.

"I'm sorry, but perhaps you are mistaken, in a situation like that it's likely your mind was just playing tricks on you."

He was quick to dismiss the boy's words, perhaps a bit too quickly if the boy's dawning anger was any indication, but it had to be done, a small girl traveling that distance through the panic-stricken streets back to that hell no less? The idea was laughable.

Evidently, the other knight thought so as well, as he gently grasped the boys shoulder, peeling him away from Julius, "There's no need for you to worry about that now, the Knight's will handle it from here."

"No! You're just saying that to get me to leave, aren't you?" The boy screamed at the knight before his defiant gaze moved onto Julius again, "You have to figure out what happened to her! You have too!"

"I will," Julius vowed, as the knight grew firmer with his actions, slowly beginning to force the boy farther from the scene as gently as possible, slowly shaking his head as the boy struggled in vain to break out of his grip.

"I'm sorry someone as young as yourself had to find her, Sir Juukulius," The knight spoke as he left, his voice barely audible over his charge's furious cries, "It's never easy."

"No, I don't imagine it ever is." He muttered to the now vacant ruins, sneaking a final fleeting glance at the girl in his arms before continuing his slow processional to the mortuary, searing his memory of the day into his head with every step.

As he sat in the room Reinhard had quickly transformed into a makeshift study for him, he couldn't help but muse over the latest in the series of problems that seemed to plague his new life.

The deadline of Roswaal's invitation was rapidly approaching, the journey would likely take a few days, while the incident at the capital might be more than enough to explain a slight amount of tardiness, the fact remained that if he were going to take the margraves invitation the latest he would be able to leave was tomorrow.

The topic had come up not long after his conversation with Reinhard a few days prior, and while Reinhard did voice his concern about Roswaal's status as a rival's primary sponsor, he acknowledged that the man, while eccentric was highly respected in the kingdom, his family having served the Royal Family for generations.

With his newly gained insight into the marquess, his choice was laid bare before him, even with his status as king in his previous life he was still bound by the intricately delicate relations shared between nobility, snuffing any of them could have terrible consequences in the future.

Plus, as Reinhard had pointed out, Roswaal was likely inviting him to reward him for protecting the candidate he was sponsoring. While accepting compensation for protecting someone, especially with his less-than-altruistic intentions, left a foul taste in his mouth, he was more than aware that ignoring the situation wouldn't do anyone any favors either.

That left only one more problem, Felt. The blond-haired thief had yet to awaken, according to the healers Reinhard had brought the poor girl's body had sustained such a significant amount of damage that her body was keeping her in a coma, devoting all of its resources to heal herself. This was all despite the fact that she had been healed with magic from those same healers, it seems even all of the magic in this world apparently couldn't ensure an immediate recovery from injuries.

Gazing at his gloved hand, a thought wormed its way into his head.

I wonder if…

No, that was a thought for another time, he needed to focus on the situation at hand, that little 'experiment' could wait.

The main worry that both he and Reinhard shared was her behavior when she inevitably awoke, after all the last time she had woken up in a strange location by herself she had immediately decided to vault out of a window, and neither of them were keen to suffer a repeat performance. It was only natural that her mental state would be going haywire after a traumatic incident such as what occurred at the loot house, and whatever she had suffered during her disappearance.

Cuts like she had been covered in only resulted from a single action, torture.

The precision was almost surgical in nature, each gash in the perfect location to cause the most amount of pain possible, all the while in locations that ensured they would never quite become lethal, no matter how much the recipient might wish they would.

The sight was one he would never be able to remove from his memory, and he couldn't even have to due diligence to ensure the monster who caused it all was six feet under.

Absent-mindedly, he ran one of his hands through his hair; the dark thoughts had plagued him earlier during his spar against Reinhard once again bubbling to the surface of his mind.

His red-haired compatriot wasn't around at the moment, having been summoned by Gildarks to the Castle a few hours prior, almost having to be forced out of the estate by Arthur himself as he seemed to latch onto any excuse to delay his departure.

How strange…

Gripping the desk with his free hand he pulled himself from the plush seat that he had been stewing in, the soles of his boots, provided graciously by Reinhard, gently clicked against the floor of the office, quickly leading him out of the door.

Sunlight streamed through the windows that dotted the estate's hallways. Yet, despite the amicable atmosphere the manor appeared utterly barren of life the only sounds of life being his own, while it was a little unsettling to him, too used to the bustle that had been Camelot in its prime, it wasn't uncharacteristic of Reinhard's estate at large. Despite being one of the highest-ranking nobles in the Kingdom, along with the added prestige that came with his own exalted status as the Sword Saint, a position he now understood in earnest due to his most recent conversation with the red-head, his estate was uncharacteristically devoid of staff despite its rather grand size. Its only residents seemed to be the two young twin maid's and Reinhard himself, the elderly couple that had greeted them when he first arrived seemingly disappeared the next day, either that or he seriously needed to work on his perception.

Before long, he found himself in front of a rather unassuming door, only becoming strange when one realized that it latched from the outside. One small golden key, comfortably nestled in his breast pocket, was all it took to unlock the door with a soft click, a light golden color coming into view as the door swung open.

Felt laid on an oversized bed, or perhaps she was just undersized? Looking as if she had just settled into a comfortable sleep, her face harboring none of the panic that had been etched on it as she fled from Elsa.

Anything would have been better than the same sight that had greeted him the past few days. While the twin maid's were the ones typically tending the sleeping blond, that didn't stop Arthur from checking in, something he made a habit of doing daily, Reinhard even stopped by occasionally, although that was more in an attempt to gain a clearer picture of her situation using his plethora of Divine Protection's, something that yielded no results.

The knight's confusing powers aside, nothing of note had changed in the past few days, while Arthur might have sworn her position changed slightly day by day it was more than likely just his mind playing tricks on him.

Content with the completion of his daily ritual he made his way back out the door, re-engaging the lock as he left.

Just as he finished the action, deftly restowing the key into his pocket, the air behind him shifted, causing him to face the source of the disturbance, words already rolling off his tongue before the perpetrator had even entered his vision.

"Is there something you need Flam?"

The young pink-haired maid blinked before snapping into a low bow, "M-my apologies Lord P-pendragon, I was just coming to check up on the g-guest."

A soft smile wormed it's way on Arthur's face, one that he didn't attempt to fight or hide, "I just finished checking up on her, so don't worry about it."

In an instant, the young girl's face flushed red as she struggled for breath, "I…I might as well check up on her regardless since I'm here!"

Stifling a laugh at the maid's energetic recovery, Arthur made his way closer to her, lowering himself onto his heels to look at the young girl in the eyes.

"Ever since I arrived, I've been shocked by the diligence you and your sister shared, but there's one thing I want you to remember."

With the best smile he could muster, he gently raised his hand to Flam's head before giving it a light rustle.

She let out a light peep, and her body froze, but she made no attempt to shy away from his touch.

"It's Arthur, ok? Maid's or not, there's no need for children to address me so formally."

Flam remained paralyzed for a few seconds after a finished his words before she bolted down the hallway, all sense of decorum lost as her face flushed red.

"If you see Reinhard after he returns, would you send him to my study!?" He brought his hands to cup his mouth.

Knowing the redhead, it was likely the first thing he would do, whether it was requested of him or not, but he preferred to cover his bases.

Flam rounded a corner, disappearing out of sight, leaving Arthur to question if his request would be honored.

With a shrug, he began to make his way through the labyrinth that was the Astrea estate, content to return to the litany of tasks waiting for him in his study, the short break restoring his once-weary mind.