Warsong | Celeste Academy Series Book #4

Chapter Twelve ⚜ Wings

When Valeriana heard Aeron's loud statement, she looked like she swallowed lemons. Corvan did not look less irked. They strained to watch the battle between Lord Lienhard and the demon and found that it was a stalemate.

Valeriana did not bring any weapon with her since they made her feel uncomfortable—she was even wearing a dress! Even so, she always made sure to bring Cifaro with her especially since his trusty self had saved her life a couple of times now.

She had hidden him in an abstruse pocket she asked Myra to sew under the folds of the skirt. Although he was a bit bumpy, because of the folds, it wasn't too obvious.

It was moments later that Lienhard managed to push down the demon, however, he came back much, much stronger and returned the favor tenfold. His eyes bled red and he bit down on his lower lip so hard it actually started to shed blood. This time, a demonic energy so thick wafted from his body—strong enough to rival the experience they had with Todd back in Preluresia.

This lad wasn't easy to deal with. If he was, he would've been taken down long before. Demons with proper forms—just how formidable could they be?

Valeriana braced for the incoming wave of energy when a thick barrier appeared and contained the force within, saving Tamara, Charles, Corvan, and the others from exposure. Bertram holding up one hand with a look of fury was an enough indication that he was the one responsible for it.

The barrier swept like a broom and pushed back the demonic energy like it was nothing but dust particles. Eventually, it shrank down to a size and wrapped around the demon as though he was sushi. Fortunately for the Lords Lienhard and Aeron, it skipped over them.

"Enough!" Bertram exclaimed. "I will no longer let you trouble this palace. Tell me why you've come!"

Lord Aeron looked at the new king with a mysterious smile. "As expected of the new sovereign. Prince—I mean King Bertram has always had exceptional control over the barriers. I doubt anyone can ever match up to his aptitude."

Bertram sweated and his hands shook. However amazing it looked, it didn't look easy to accomplish.

Lord Lienhard had fallen over, probably from the demonic wave, his wings were no longer aglow on his back. He coughed and sat up—tried to at least. He just discovered he had fallen on the pile of gunk which kept him restrained like a sacrifice to the gods. He looked at the glowing sphere in which a bank of darkness clouded within and sighed, unable to bear the situation he had gotten himself into.

"This made me so tired. I'm out of shape. Someone help me."

"Even if we want to, we all can't move," Aeron said.

"What is with this troublesome situation?" he asked. "Aeron, you lazy bastard. Stop doing nothing."

"I am doing something!"

"Then what in the name of the king is it?" Lienhard shouted.

"I'm watching!"

"Gods damn you! Shame on you for bearing the name of First Knight!"

"I'm retired."

If Lord Lienhard himself was feeling annoyed with his brother-in-arms, this was evidence that the Court Leader was nothing short of maddening.

Within the dark clouds glowed a pair of slanted red eyes and a haunting voice bounced off the room. "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, you poor soul. Trying to hopelessly be the face of intrepidity when all you are is inadequacy. The failed heir. The interim king. You do not even truly own the throne, nor do you really deserve it. A second choice."

"Don't listen," Lord Lovis told him.

"Shut up." Bertram growled and pressed the barrier into a smaller ball.