Chapter 12: Trials of Duty

As the Living Mana surged around her and the train, as the wind whipped at her cloak and tugged on her dark hair, Ophelia Brigmont focused. Her Soul Glyph of Vanguard flared with protective golden light from her sword, [Saviour’s Bulwark] pumping out suppressing amber mana into her surroundings.

She was the last stand here. Without her, this train wouldn’t survive. If she was defeated, she wouldn’t just be failing her job, she’d be costing the lives of everyone on this journey with her.

That wasn’t necessarily true, not when she considered the man she had left behind in the carriage.

But it was what she needed to believe to keep pushing herself forward.

Ophelia closed her eyes as she concentrated. Unbidden thoughts pummelled her. That damnable list of hers, which she really needed to stop thinking about, poked and prodded her conscience. Once, it had been something like a guiding light. Now, however…

She had far too many names on it. Names of those she wasn’t supposed to be disappointing. So many that even if she wished to count herself among the ones on the list, her name was far too close to the bottom to matter. This was worsened by the fact that the list just kept shifting all the time.

Right now, the top of the list was dominated by Knight Commander Teder, her mother Lady Brigmont, and of course, her current client—Lord Stowen Kohn.

She detested it.

Ophelia didn’t know all the intricacies behind noble connections, despite ostensibly being one herself. Her mother would faint if she ever admitted out loud that she was ignorant of at least half of the underhanded dealings and whatnot that went on between all the Houses of Androvia. She’d much rather spend time focusing on her duties as a member of the Heartshield Knights.

She’d much rather concentrate on the things that actually mattered to her, like honing her skills as one of the foremost Mage Knights in the kingdom and protecting those that needed her prowess.

That was what had made her go and visit that strange guest of theirs in the first-class carriage.

He was someone who proclaimed to have not a drop of noble blood. Someone who seemed to be of no note, had no reputation to speak of, not from appearances and bearing at least.

And yet, he was someone who possessed a sense of direction that was unmatched by anything Ophelia had seen before.

And also, the legendary sword of House Faldor.

She certainly couldn’t forget about that.

Well, it was also Stowen Kohn’s insidious orders that had made her visit him. But she was just trying to see it from a more positive perspective.

She cracked one eye open, holding back the temptation to laugh. It was the laugh of one who had seen an impossibility become reality. The laugh of one whose dream had been proven real. Achievable.

Because Ophelia truly believed that no one was free from the expectations that claimed a share of their life. No one, no matter how strong or powerful, could escape the claws of society and the burdens thrust upon them. No one was free from the chains that tied them to others in civilization. No matter how heroic, how strong, how much of a champion they were.

Except, apparently, for whatever kind of being the boy’s companion was supposed to be.

A companion she couldn’t simply insult by throwing the boy back into the train and yelling at him to remain inside the fortified first-class carriage. He’d have been safer there, undoubtedly. But something drove him, and it was a spark of something she recognized that had stopped her from simply ignoring his seemingly foolhardy actions.

Responsibility. The willingness to take on a burden that should have been far, far beyond him. It was a strange contrast.

He was in the company of someone who probably couldn’t give a damn about what was expected of him. And yet, here he was, wilfully embracing expectations that he should never have needed to consider, much less accept unto himself.

“Heroes aren’t born in a day,” Ophelia said to the boy, Viren. He had jolted at that, and she knew she had guessed true. “Stand strong.”

He had believed it.

Distractedly, she recalled that she still needed to contact Stackhurst Bank and verify everything Ryland had said. It was a mere formality, but at least Stowen Kohn couldn’t go against word of that nature. A bank couldn’t lie about something like those old, mythical immortalized accounts opening back up.

None of which was supposed to be Ophelia’s concern at the moment. Not with the threat of the Incursion in her face.

She concentrated on not dying.

Ophelia’s body shivered as power coursed through her. The Living Mana was surging, growing even more powerful. Viren was sticking even closer, clearly frightened of the horrific abominations rising from the flood of crimson energy that had somehow come alive.

But as her enemy’s power surged, so did hers. She was Exalted-ranked. One of the most elite battlemages in the kingdom, possessing boundless power that ran through her mana-imbued veins.

And it was this power she was using to repel the rising red tide. Her mana, flowing out in golden waves, solidified into repulsive bolts that tore through the Incursion.

Ophelia needed to end this fast. Even now, the Living Mana’s strength was surging. It crackled as it grew, living appendages trying to swarm over the cabooses. Even if she was keeping the first-class and the engine carriages safe, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the train.

They needed to last just a bit longer. From her vantage point, she spotted Twin Craters and the bridge leading over them. Their plan could still succeed. Even if the Living Mana continued growing till it superseded even her, so long as they reached the bridge, they’d survive.

Ophelia cast another quick spell under her breath. “[Unrivalled Call].”

Her Soul Glyph of Vanguard flared yet again, this time spreading the power out in tiny golden stars that drew the Living Mana’s attention to her. Viren tensed, but Ophelia kept herself steady, maintaining the flow of mana out of her manasoul.

And then Stowen Kohn’s voice cut through the battle like a blade through skin.

His order fell like a death knell. Her excuses sounded even to her like a gust of wind against a landslide.

Return to the post you’ve been hired to protect.

The train trembled, threatening to crash. Threatening to send her careening off balance, plummeting over its side and into the clutches of the Incursion.

Responsibility. Burdens. It all came down to that, didn’t it?

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There was, as always, the temptation to simply ignore what she had been told. It wasn’t like Stowen Kohn possessed anywhere near enough power to physically drag her back to her “post”.

But years of labouring under the ironclad rule of her House rammed into her mind. Years of being the most dutiful soldier of the Heartshield Knights, the brightest jewel in her mother’s crown, all swarmed in. All reignited the brands on her soul that reminded her that she couldn’t disobey.

For just the briefest of moments, she believed she was free. Free to do what really mattered. Free to unleash her power and face off against the Living Mana Incursion, drawing it to her and defeating it before it could surpass her, protecting the entire train and not just one select compartment and its selfish occupant.

And now, that was not to be.

You’ve obeyed me all your life, her mother had said on her final day at the Brigmont estate. Don’t stop now that you think you’re free.

Remember, her leader had said on the first day in her Knightly Conclave. A knight can be many things, but we’re Heartshield, not Brainshield. There’s a reason for the name. We’re not heroes. We’re not leaders. We’re not going into the history books. We’re the gears that keep the world running. And you know what a gear does? It fits where it’s told.

The real meaning was obvious. Whatever Ophelia did, she could not be the one to be held responsible for anything besides the strict fulfilment of her order.

Viren looked devastated as she turned around. Her own words pounded in her skull.

Especially when she impressed upon him that there wasn’t much they could do. Not against orders. Pull free from the fabric that defined their lives, and everything fell apart. Mere mortals such as them couldn’t disobey the laws that governed their world.

For Viren’s sake, she didn’t let any of her real feelings show. In front of an Iron-ranked academy student, an Exalted-ranked Mage Knight needed to be a bastion of indomitability. Even against self-inflicted injustice.

This was just the way of the world. One day, Viren would learn it in truth. They were only mages, after all.

Mere mortal practitioners of sorcery.

The train screeched out in agony. A storm of sparks emerged from either side of the locomotive up front, and their speed immediately began plummeting. Not good.