The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 226

Chapter 226

Chapter 226: Punishable Actions

ARTHUR LEYWIN

Rage warred with grief in me for the longest time as I mourned my father’s death.

I cried and I cursed all the while refusing to believe that all of this was real.

As a prodigy, as a mage, as a lance, I just wanted to protect the few people most important to me—to let them be happy and healthy. I abandoned the thought of being a hero to the people of Dicathen. I’ve filled that role before, and I learned that the price of saving those faceless citizens are the people most important to me.

And despite my efforts, I failed to protect them. My hands were stained in the blood of my father—stains that, I feared, would never come off no matter how many other people I saved.

After my tears ran dry and my throat locked up, all that was left inside me was a raw pit of emptiness.

As my father’s corpse was carried off and Durden was guided to the medic tents, I got up and headed inside the Wall.

Applause and cheers erupted as soon as I crossed the fortress gate. Soldiers, smiths, and laborers alike stopped what they were doing. Some bowed, others clapped, but they all looked at me with gazes that made me wince.

I couldn’t take it. Not the people, not the appreciation, not the expressions of relief from having someone to lean on. I couldn’t be here.

Sylvie. Get my sister and take her to the medic tent where my mother is. She’s going to need someone to be there for her, I conveyed while I strode past the cluster of tents that made up the medic ward.

My bond tugged the sleeve of my shirt. “I’ll go get your sister, but Arthur... your mother will need you as much as she needs your sister.”

I don’t bother responding to her aloud like she did for me.

I’m the last person she’d want to see. She no longer sees me as a son and any semblance of affection she might’ve had for me even after I told her the truth... will be gone now that I failed to keep my promise in bringing my fath—Reynolds, back alive.

I brushed her off and made my way towards the main meeting tent.

***

“General... Arthur,” Trodius wheezed, his body involuntarily shrinking back in his seat.

I took another step toward the senior captain, eliciting panicked responses from the nobles beside him.

“M-My spell! How did you even...” the lanky one stuttered, pointing his wand at me after regaining his consciousness.

The portly man to Trodius’ left was a bit more courageous, despite the acrid stench emanating from his freshly-soiled pants.

“Stay back! You are in the presence of nobility! How dare a dog of the Council intrude on an important meeting,” he threatened.

The small-framed noble sporting a thick mustache still lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious after my initial ‘greeting.’

I remained wordless as I took another step. The lankey one let a squeal in response while the fat one flinched. Only Trodius remained unfazed as I slowly approached.

The sea of rage and grief that churned inside me as I wept for my father had been drained, leaving a hollow void that allowed me to think clearly for the first time in a while.

No longer were the screams of panic and worry in my head clouding my judgment, making me irrational and emotional in the vain hopes of keeping all of my loved ones safe.

Now, there was only silence to my soul—a ghostly lull. The fire of rage and the other cacophony of emotions had been extinguished, leaving only a sharp chill in my blood.

It was comforting, in a sense.

If it had been just ten minutes ago, I would’ve done to Trodius what I had done to Lucas.

Except I realized, in this numb and logical state of mind, that Trodius wasn’t as simple as Lucas. I would gain nothing by killing Trodius and he would be able to take what I dished out with that same constipated expression he always had.

I couldn’t use pain. I knew that now. I couldn’t treat Trodius the same way I could Lucas.

It was when I took another step that Trodius finally spoke. Straightening his posture and clearing his throat, he looked me in the eyes and asked, “to what do I owe the pleasure of a lance gracing me with his presence?”

His scrutinizing gaze and the ever-so-slight sneer that tugged on the edge of his lips told me what I knew. He wasn’t afraid of the pain that I could afflict or even the death that he might face.

With his resourcefulness, he was confident in being able to escape, and he would relish the chance to be ‘the one that withstood the fury of a mad lance.’

“D-Don’t come any closer!” the portly man said as he withdrew his own toy-like wand.

“Settle down,” I said, causing both the conscious nobles in the room to stiffen.

“Even as a general, respect must be shown in the face of noble blood,” Trodius admonished, shaking his head.

Another bait. He was edging me to do something so that he could retaliate.

I walked around the table, leisure shown in my face and steps. Arriving in front of the fat noble, I gestured with a finger. “Move.”

“M-Move?” he echoed, flabbergasted as the wand still trembled in his hands.

Anger must’ve triumphed over his fear, or maybe the cornered mouse finally decided to strike, but it was over before it even began.

The spell that threatened to manifest at the tip of his embroidered wand never came, fizzling away like his pride after wetting his own pants.

Before the portly noble could even react, a current of wind hammered down on top of him, slamming his face down into the puddle of his own piss.

I used his wide girth as a footstool while taking a seat on the meeting table just inches away from Trodius.

The senior captain’s mask of indifference faltered, traces of anger flaring before disappearing just as quickly.