Chapter 9: A Spark

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Edmund was able to walk on his own by the next day. He still had many minor injuries, but they were ultimately inconsequential with the aid of the healing power of Faithflers.

He had been afforded the simple luxury of a real cotton shirt and a pair of thatch pants to wear instead of his rags.

He and whoever had been fleeing with him after the battle were taken to Fort Killigrew, the outpost of the largest offensive on the Morgaul front. In comparison to the camp he stayed at before, this place was like a cosmopolitan city.

The walls were stone, the barracks were decent, even for the Snakes, and organized. An entire keep sat in the center of the fort, unlike the slightly larger tent the leader of the old camp had suffered.

There was an entire yard specifically for storing chariots.

Edmund made his way into the keep, nervously watching each and every single guard until there were too many for him to keep track of. Suffice to say, his thief's wits were screaming at him to run for his life.

Edmund had been directed to the keep to meet with General Rolf Thorne, overseer of Killigrew, and Archcaster Elius in light of this whole Pool situation.

He approached the keep with hesitant steps, eyeing the Enforcers guarding the front who did the same. But they let him pass.

Edmund entered through the giant wooden doors of the fortress and onto the stone brick floor. It was much cooler within the shade of the building, so much so that Edmund took a second to relish in it.

He found his way to a spiral staircase and ascended to the next floor up, exiting into the corner of the great hall. A long wooden table occupied the room, seating many high ranking individuals likely of the Noble and Kairolist castes. That included the Archcaster and the general.

"Ah, Mr. Isley." Elius grinned, "Have you thought over my offer?"

Edmund's eyes darted to the general. He was a hulk of a man, taller than Edmund even while sitting in his throne at the edge of the table. His dark skin and silver-blonde hair made him a native Atrellian. He wore a full suit of decorated plate armor, lined in gold and imprinted with expensive designs.

Throughout the years, Edmund had always been taught to have a plan to deal with everyone he met. When Edmund couldn't think of one, he put the sensation akin to being naked.

Edmund breathed deeply, looking to Elius, "I have. And I think I'll accept. On a few conditions."

"Conditions?" General Thorne growled, "You're lucky to be standing there alive, Snake."

"Please allow me to hear him out, my lord." Elius said.

General Throne grumbled, but sat back in his throne, resigned to the interaction.

"I want the status of Noble and the absolution of my criminal history, as you offered before. But I also want the same for a friend of mine. A Snake named Pasco. Barrack eight." Edmund said.

"Why you- you'd have us abandon our very values just to accomodate you?" Thorne started getting fired up again.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you not want the help of the Knight in your war?" Edmund asked.

Thorne scoffed, "To say the odds of you being the Knight are doubtful is an understatement."

"What if I am the Knight and I walk away from this deal? What if I lose my head to a Morgaul blade and suddenly Atrell is left without its savior? Are you willing to take that chance?" Edmund asked, smirking.

General Thorne ground his teeth together.

"We can do that." Elius said, "Anything else?"

"Aside from just Flerical training, I want to be able to use the training ground to teach myself battlefield combat." Edmund said.

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