The Art of Rebellion

A Dark Pact

Turns out we don't have a well anywhere near the Dead Poets' hideout. The next best thing is to travel via flying carpet, which is a lot less fun. I prefer my action to take place near the ground. Not that many shadows to use up here - or sand, for that matter, making Ry useless, too. Having packed our things an hour ago, we're now boarding the bloody death trap. It's large enough to fit at least ten people, along with their luggage, so there's no doubt it can carry the three of us.

"Is that all, sir?" Hasta asks, formal as ever. He helped me get some bags with spare clothes, food and water here.

"Yeah," I answer. "Thanks." He doesn't turn to leave right away, instead settling for giving me a sad look. He hasn't made that many friends here yet, since he's pretty shy. The lives he took just earlier today are probably the only thing on his mind. "You passed, by the way."

His eyes don't light up like they usually do. Instead, the kid just nods. "How-"

"How do I live with myself?" He jumps a little, making me sigh. "I can't help you figure that part out. Find your own coping method."

"I drink," En added, putting the last of her bags on the carpet. "Drink and eat."

Hasta doesn't seem particularly interested in what she has to say. Comparing the two is like comparing a respectable butler with a hobo.

"Mind your business, En," I tell her when I realize the boy's not gonna get whatever else is on his mind off of his tongue with her focus on him.

She shrugs, not insulted in the least, then hops on. "Just don't baby him."

Truth be told, I am babying him. I wasn't this nice to any of the others I've had to help. The first guy I sparred with ended up losing an eye because he got cocky. For whatever reason, I'm fond of the boy. Perhaps it's because he looks like a puppy?

"I got a mission," he finally gets out. "Gotta kill some knight." Ah, it's his first official one. The old man really is cranking up the heat. I wouldn't be surprised if we went to war within the month. I'd have waited at least another two weeks before assigning him a target. I'm not stupid enough to tell him that, though. Instead, I just put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll see you when you return."

He knows what the words mean; I'm assuming he's going to succeed and be back safely. Honestly, I don't expect him to fail. Steel can be found anywhere, and it's really effective against people who use swords, so the kid has a massive advantage over any knight who comes at him. He's pretty fast, too. It took me ten minutes to land the first hit during our last sparring session.

"Bye," he says, and I inwardly groan. En and Ry both give me a look, which might mean it wasn't all that inward. They know how much that word sucks, having lost people themselves. I told the kid never to say it, but I guess life hasn't been harsh enough on him yet. I hope he never learns how bad the word is.

I just nod at him, then get on. "How does this thing work, anyway?"

En focuses a bit of her magic on her palm, then softly presses it against the carpet, which takes off toward the sky. "Magic's like fuel for this thing. Just feed it some and it'll do what you want."

"You say that like it's alive," Ry points out, giving her a weird look.

"Who says it isn't?" The short girl smiles a bit too mysteriously for my liking. In fact, after Mr Cunt, I think I'm forever done with smiling. The next person who does it at the wrong time might just have a permanent one carved in.

"Where exactly is their hideout?" I ask, not really knowing a single thing about how they operated. I know they target small groups of knights, and that they've killed a few thousand of them, but that's about it.