The Everburn Mage

23. Two Roads

Eight months had passed since the war; somehow it seemed the fighting never ended.

James remembered that night vividly, how could he not? He was alone in his house, bones ragged and mentally exhausted. This overwhelming tiredness from a long day of patrol missions in the capital would lull him to sleep at his study desk, the glowing bulb's light ejecting onto his face. He was often told that, when one enlists in the military, they would never receive an ounce of rest ever again. 

This, as James would come to discover, wasn't far from the truth. Dropping his guard and allowing his consciousness to drift into the crevices of a realm infested with dreams, the pounding of a fist meeting his door exploded into his ears, nearly resulting in the young captain stumbling onto his bottom.

Holding his scalp, he clumsily started on a path to the door where a series of heavy, disrupting knocks continued to ignite the innards of his house with noise. 

"Yes," James yawned, opening the door. 

Every ounce of drowsiness would escape him, however, when, wrapped in the darkness of the night, a squadron of military officers peered at him in silence. A common factor they each shared was a forlorn glower staining the lower halves of their faces.

One of the men, a brigadier general with silky black hair covering one of his pair of cerulean eyes and a scruffy beard at the bottom of his chin was the first to speak. James had never met him before. 

Discounting his disheveled appearance, based on the black jacket he donned, as well as the collection of glittering insignia decorating his uniform, James recognized him to be a combat mage, and a high-ranking one at that. 

He greeted the stunned James with a bow, starting, "Captain Griffin. We couldn't reach you by phone so we were ordered to greet you directly."

"Wh...What's going on? Are we under attack?"

"No, nothing like that. It has to do with your old man, Lieutenant General Vance Griffin. You see, well, there's been an...incident."

This was all that James needed to hear. He went with them, not even bothering to change out of his sloppily put-together sleeping attire. Along their drive, the combat mage explained, "As I'm sure you've been informed, there was a recent gathering between our country and Gyrakian forces at our border. It was meant to reaffirm our commitment to the treaty and that we truly long to put the bloodshed of the war behind us."

"...And?" asked James, leaning forward in his seat.

Sitting across from him, the combat mage bolstered a frown, before proceeding, "Long story short, there was a surprise attack. Some nutjob used an enchanted bomb to, well, take matters into his own hands. It resulted in the deaths of not only the President of Gyrak, Mortimer Winslow but also our sovereign himself."

"Wait, the sovereign's..."

"Yes," he confirmed, dipping his chin. "Levioth Grisham is no more." 

This was concerning, to say the least. A nation without a ruler was bound to breed a new set of problems with the potential to inflict long-term repercussions even greater than the 7 Year War. Regardless, James cared not so much for those specifics at the moment as he did about the situation regarding his father. 

"As for the lieutenant general," said the mage, seemingly detecting James' inner thoughts. "He was also caught in the blast and is currently in critical condition. He wasn't certain of what Ryas had in store for him so he instructed me to bring you to him. Apparently, he's got some matters he longs to get off his chest."

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, he's a close friend of mine."

When they arrived at the Savannis State Hospital, James leaped out the door of the vehicle and launched inside the building. He ignored the angry nurses shouting at him not to run through the hallways, climbed three flights of stairs without pausing to rest, and, as fatigue started to win him over, came to a halt outside the door of Room #317.