Aligning the Forgotten ✓

Chapter 38: Roux

The sharp yet soft twists of black ink travel from my wrist, peaking in swirls and ending with the royal emblem, a sword dripping blood and flame, on the back of my hand. From there, the ink twists like vines over my arm, all the way to my shoulder and branching out with thorns against the right side of my chest, same for my back.

I stare at the tattoo in the mirror, how the lines stretch out like veins near my throat, stopping just short of reaching the middle of my collarbone. I couldn't have expected Elvira to do a better job, the tattoo represents me and everything I've become—from being engaged to the prince to the king's third hand, from useless to worth something.

I pull a shirt over my head and follow that with armor made mostly of leather, except for the chest-plate, gauntlets, pauldron, and poleyn. The lighter I am with leather, the easier it'll be to access my power in today's battle.

The sun hasn't risen yet, faint stars still speckle the dark expanse of a fading sky, but it won't be long before we depart. One last look in the mirror to the black war paint against my eyes, spreading out like paint leaking down my cheeks, and I turn away. The longer I stand here, admiring what the king made me out to be, the harder it'll be to focus on the stakes.

We're to end the war today. With the king at my side, we'll put a stop to a war that's been expanded for over one hundred years. There have been many players, Esaria a constant, but today will be the last. I'll send these soldiers home.

Returning to the main room of the station, down a flight of stairs from the second floor, I find the rest of the group waiting or doing the same thing I was. Strapping on their armor, giving themselves one last look at the war paint before forcing themselves to look away. As witches, we've always been referred to as beast rather than man, but today we'll put forth an image to that testament. We'll slaughter humans and witches alike, leaving only those wise enough to bend the knee and surrender, dipping their face to the dirt for their king.

Giving them a potion will be a mercy compared to other fates. Death being one of them. They'll serve their new king proudly, as I have, and learn what it takes to be loyal.

Binx smirks at me as I approach him. The armor he wears is similar to my own, only the chest-plate is larger and the royal seal isn't only over his heart but on the gauntlets, as well. The war paint smeared over his cheeks nearly reaches his jaw and above his eyes, arches up to resemble horns. A monster amongst men.

"Here, you're going to need these," he says, handing over twin swords. I've seen these before, not on myself but...the king.

I look over at the leader of Esaria, finding identical swords strapped to his back, and two daggers there, strapped to the belt and resting against his spine. There's no telling what weapons he holds on his front, whether he will simply use his power or have some fun and cut down the rest of fighting soldiers.

"The honor of carrying a weapon crafted for a king is high," Binx says quietly so even Salvador can't hear him. "Use these swords proudly, and when enemies fall at your feet, they'll understand the volume of the threat you've become. Lay waste, king's third hand."

I knock his shoulder with my fist, and with a playful smirk, take the swords and sheath them to the identical straps against my back. The pommels stick out over my shoulders. My appearance is identical to everyone else, especially Takata as she steps forward and pulls a mask over the bottom half of her face. She opted for white war paint instead of the traditional black, to defy the king in the room, but also, to make herself stand out on the battlefield.

Even with the handkerchief over her face, I can tell she's smiling by the slight crinkle in her eyes. She's not doing this out of joy, but out of vengeance. She wants to kill; she wants to watch blood spill; she wants enemies to fall. And the thought of sending her back home to where she belongs, there's no better feat.

"Lay waste," she repeats after Binx. We clamp forearms—our symbol of farewell and hello once we're on the other side.

"Time to move out," the king orders. When our eyes meet, he nods acceptance to what I've become, from the armor, the tattoo, the war paint—everything. I've changed before his eyes, all because of him, and for the better. I can't hide the grin on my face and it's similar to Takata's in its desire and poise.

The horses are already saddled and waiting outside the station with guards holding the reins. Takata pats the saddle of her stallion and waggles a finger in my direction. "There's no ride more beautiful than this one," she says. Sure enough, the slick black coat of her stallion is only broken up by white rimming around the eyes and what appears to be a lightning bolt dragging down the animal's face. "It'd be an honor to lead you into battle, king's third hand."

I take her offer with pride. Silently asking Binx whether it's okay to ride with her, he nods and opts to ride with Elvira, who smiles at him wickedly over her shoulder once they're in the saddle. Binx can do nothing other than lean back and try to divert his attention elsewhere, mostly to Takata—a woman he spent the entire night with.

At the front of the group, the king waits. He rides on a stallion of pure white. The coat glistens against his golden armor, and just like that, the world lifts. My heart soars once I'm saddled and kicking the flank of the horse with Takata sitting behind me.

We don't come back after this. As my stallion breaks into a gallop, following the other horses, I take one last look back at the station over my shoulder. Whether or not I'll see it again...I don't know.