Chapter 290.5: Interlude Alexander 3/ Devon 4

Staring at the full moon, Alexander took a drag from his pipe, feeling the fortifying smoke fill his lungs and burn as it went down, letting it linger a little longer than he should have, until it felt uncomfortably hot even for him, before exhaling in a long breath.It wasn’t something he’d ever seen himself doing, smoking rare herbs for a little hit, but then again, his life hadn’t exactly been going as expected for the past year.

“It started with the Class Ceremony. Things began going wrong from then,” he muttered, before shaking his head. It was tempting to blame everything on unruly children, and he could think of a couple who had more than a little involvement in what had happened in Floria, but he knew that wasn’t fair.

And if there was one thing he’d decided not to do anymore, it was lying to himself. The world was already full of liars; there was no need to add to that.

he thought as he looked at the charred remains of what had been Eztie’s followers’ camp. What was once their camp, at least, now only ash remained.

They’d been hunting down the remaining priests who had been sent to respond to the Honeyton attack for a while. This specific group had managed to avoid their divinations longer than expected by taking long detours through the Green Ocean. Still, eventually, they had to emerge to move toward the Sunlands if they wanted to reach the safety provided by their superiors, and that was where they’d fallen upon them.

Once, Alexander would have recoiled at such brutality. But now he understood what allowing gods uncontested control of the mortal world entailed, and how minor sacrifices like these could lead to a freer, fairer world for everyone, even if it meant bloodshed.

A soft hand traced his bare back, reaching up to his neck and tangling in his shaggy hair, scratching his scalp just right.

“Have you been here in the cold, smoking the whole time?” Terentia murmured, draping herself on his back.

“You know I run hot,” he replied, taking another drag. Tonight was a beautiful night, and he didn’t want to listen to the meeting. They were all waiting for word about their next move anyway, and wasting hours talking in circles about who they should target next, and how well they had cleaned up the local priesthood didn’t really interest him.

In a business that often required killing harmless people, cruelty was frequently unavoidable, and some even enjoyed it, but that didn’t mean Alexander had to subject himself to it, especially since he’d been the one dealing with the biggest threats lately. Everyone else was just cleaning up after him.

“We just received the signal to turn on the orb,” Terentia told him, pulling back slightly and shivering from the cold air. It was a pretense, he knew. Her physical stats were higher than his, and she could walk through a snowstorm without flinching.

Maybe her constant acting should have served as a warning, but he liked it about her. She kept trying to imitate what she believed he liked, growing more desperate as he got his tattoos and moved beyond them.

She didn’t need to worry because he wouldn’t subject another woman to what he’d become, and he’d always be grateful to her for being there to lift him up during his lowest moments. Yet, he enjoyed her efforts too much to say anything about it.

Standing up, he exhaled the smoke he’d inhaled and extinguished his pipe with a flex of his will. Ever since crossing level fifty, fire magic had become easier for him, enough that he no longer needed to cast spells to manipulate existing flames.

It was something he’d seen older, more powerful priests of Sashara do, and that someone like the old monster, Marthas, could do even subconsciously, but for him, it was a significant milestone.

It was a pity he couldn’t enjoy it as much, considering that She had irreparably damaged his emotional connection with the element, but at least he had gotten out of the hatred she had sparked.

Terentia followed him as he strolled to the main tent, where the equipment to connect with the rest of the organization was stored.

Immanuel was already there. Nominally, he remained the leader of the western groups, but the serious injuries he sustained from fighting a high-ranking priestess a month ago had not healed fully, and even expensive alchemical elixirs only seemed to ease his pain.

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If it hadn’t been for the terrifyingly powerful thunderstorm that swept through the southern grassland back then, which disrupted divine blessings for just a little while, he probably would have lost the fight from the start. But luck was part of life too, and so he managed to cut down the elderly lady before she recovered, at the cost of his left arm.

Everyone was looking at Alexander as the next in line, even though he had only been around for a couple of months. There had been some grumbling, but his repeated performances had quieted them down.

That, along with Bo’s accidental death when he got too close to his flames despite warnings, had been enough. Hopefully, there wouldn't need to be more accidents.

Sitting opposite the grumpy man, he paid no attention to the glances and waited for the communication orb to glow.

A few more minutes passed before the artifact finally showed signs of life, as an inner light began to shine through, forming a shadowy figure.

“Lord Westcott,” Immanuel greeted, bowing his head with a grimace of pain.

“Yes, yes, greetings to all,” the man on the other side grunted, waving pleasantries off. “Let’s not waste time. Things here in Alluria are moving very quickly. Our spoiler unfolded as expected, but we unexpectedly ran into a bit of trouble when the Tower moved faster than expected, even sacrificing some of their own to rip it out, root and stem, before it could come to be. The main plan is still on, and we expect the Duke to focus on the base rather than looking inside his own house, but since everything happened faster than we anticipated, we had to burn a few resources.”

Alexander sat in silence. He hadn’t been interested in the major machinations the higher-ups were involved in, but even he could read between the lines.

“I normally wouldn’t do this, since you’ve been doing such a good job, but I need your men to come to Alluria for the plan. It’s a good time to leave the grassland anyway, since we just got word that Eztie’s main temple is sending a High Justiciar your way. You’ll be able to get back to your work once the heat cools down.”

“How did it end up like this?” Devon grumbled, sweat dripping down his chin as he forced his exhausted body to perform the sword sequence his master had recently shown him.

It was a particularly tough one, if he were honest, and he really should approach it with less ferocity and more mindfulness, but he couldn’t help himself.

Everything happened very quickly after he started snooping around for clues about what his brother had been involved in, and now he was essentially under house arrest, even if those words hadn’t been explicitly used.

Devon didn’t consider himself a noble most of the time. Although he was born one, House Crowley was only a knightly house until recently, and living in Alluria, he often rubbed shoulders with those who far outranked a mere baron.

He hadn’t forgotten his place, no matter what the guards muttered outside the gates, and he certainly hadn’t participated in the disappearance of that idiot Anthony, no matter how much they insisted, trying to get him to confess before master Xander arrived to take him back home.

A rush of wind escaped his blade as he thrust, and he clicked his tongue. Once, even achieving that much would have been incredible, but he was no longer aiming that low. He had the blood of a Prestige warrior in his veins and was being mentored by an even greater one.

For him, breaking through the boundary was more a matter of when than if.

As the oldest, he really should have aimed to stand above his little brother, but Devon had seen with his own eyes the explosive growth the little monster he called a sibling was capable of, and had long since admitted to himself he wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

Still, that didn’t mean he should settle for the poor performance he just delivered.

A weak gust of wind from a basic, manaless sword thrust that should have split the ground was pathetic. But then again, his mind wasn’t really focused right now.

“You are not going to get anywhere if you keep going like this.”

Pursing his lips, Devon bit back the sharp response he instinctively wanted to give about who was the swordsman and who was the maid. It would have been unkind, and she wasn’t really wrong anyway.

“I’m just trying to work off some steam,” he eventually replied, but from the look Sonya gave him, he knew he hadn’t convinced her.

“Devon, they are not going to arrest you,” she murmured, moving closer. He hesitated briefly before sheathing his sword and letting her close the distance to grab his wrist.

She did nothing more than that, but he could already feel a little better from the show of affection, and he knew this was a big step for her.

“I’m not worried about that,” he replied, only lying a bit. “I’m more angry at myself. I saw that idiot drinking alone, and it didn’t occur to me that it was odd for someone so involved in the conspiracy to be out in the open. When those men came to get him, I shouldn’t have fought them. I did too many stupid things, and I only realized he was fully complicit when he attacked me as well.”

Sonya hissed, “That cretin. If he survives this, his mother is going to kill him.”

Despite his annoyance with the situation overall, and at Anthony in particular for essentially ambushing him when he was just trying to help, Devon couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“The thing I don’t get, though,” Sonya continued, “is why the guards are so sure you were involved in this mess. If you fought against Anthony and his associates, they should think the opposite, right?"

“Ah,” Devon rubbed the back of his head. “That might be my fault. They came right after I dispatched Anthony, but I was still fighting the other two guys. And let me tell you, they were nasty brawlers, never going down, no matter how many hits I landed. So, in the middle of the fight, I got a little too heated and thought they were more enemies, and I might, or I might not have choke-slammed a soldier into a nearby wall, and dropkicked another.”

“Oh gods,” Sonya groaned. “We might actually be doomed if this is House Crowley’s common sense. Are you really so certain Nick is going to find him?”

Devon grinned. “Why, I’ll have you know, I’m the more normal of the two brothers. And yes, if I know him at all, he will be skulking around in some dank sewer stalking our enemies right about now.”