Chapter 24: Flawed Tool

Arawn looked between the two men with suspicion. "Why would helping other people be looked down upon?"

Sylvester shook his head and glanced at Corwal who was having trouble standing even while leaning against the wall. "Where did you even pick up such a little lamb?"

"Doctors were once revered as the epitome of power and control," Corwal said, ignoring the man beside him. "But then the nations around us grew strong and threatened to subjugate us. In a matter of a couple years, battle mages rose to power while craftsmen and doctors went to the bottom. After all, would you rather have a man that could save five people or one who could kill thirty enemies?"

"It shouldn't be like this…" Arawn murmured, but even he knew how childish that sounded.

Many things in the world weren't as they were supposed to be; otherwise, how could someone like him even been born?

A thought struck him at that moment. "Are we at war now?" His concept of war was hazy, but he knew that a lot of people fought and died in it, and that it was bad.

Corwal took a deep breath and stumbled toward Sylvester's bed. Ignoring the splotches of water on the covers, he dropped on it in exhaustion. It didn't seem like he'd even heard Arawn's question.

"We're not, not openly anyway," Sylvester answered while going into the other room to bring Corwal's blanket back for him. While throwing it over the already asleep man, he added, "But that's why it's important that the peace conference goes well. If anyone sees any weakness, we might be embroiled in another drawn-out war." He frowned then. "Where exactly am I supposed to sleep now? On my own operating table?"

With a scowl, he turned and went back to his workroom with all the cabinets smelling of herbs. Arawn followed him there, not having any idea what to do with himself. After the fright he gave everyone and himself, sleep was the last thing on his mind.

Noticing his presence, Sylvester waved for him to come over. "Are you interested in what I have here?"

That wasn't the reason Arawn had ventured over, but it was better than saying that he was bored, so he nodded. The man smiled, pushed up his glasses, and launched into a lecture about a dozen herbs Arawn had neither seen nor heard of in his life.

At first he was totally lost, but once Sylvester noticed it, he simplified his explanations. Although It clearly bugged him that he had to do it, that didn't stop him from sharing descriptions and uses of all the herbs he had in his storage.

While speaking about each one, he would take it out, count whatever was left, and let Arawn smell and examine the dried stalks, leafs, or flowers. He would then catalog them in a book.

It was somewhat repetitive and Arawn forgot half of what he heard straight away from the barrage of information thrown his way, but it fascinating nonetheless. Who knew flowers and stalks of grass could be this useful? He put extra effort to remember most common ones which were good for injuries, burns, and fevers.

When morning came and Corwal left the bedroom while brushing his hair back and yawning, he sent Arawn a pitying look. "Did he catch you too? Poor guy, I should have warned you."

"Catch me?"

"Shut it, you uneducated swine, you just don't understand true crafts. For once you've found someone smart though." Sylvester said while standing up and stretching. He looked a little tired after the sleepless night.

"Mhm?" Corwal came into the room and glanced over the array of herbs they were yet to return to the cabinets. "Are you interested in this stuff?"

Arawn looked at the herbs while searching his mind. Was he interested? It would be a lie to say that he wasn't, but he couldn't imagine himself staying behind when Corwal left. "I can't stay; it'd be too dangerous for him."

"Who said I would keep you?" Sylvester scoffed. "I said you were smart, but not THAT smart."

"Then…"

What was all that about? Arawn didn't understand what would be the point of asking him what he thought about learning more about the herbs if they didn't consider him staying in the place.

Corwal chuckled and returned to the bedroom. There was a large fireplace there, and he started a fire. The noise woke Eliot, who stirred on the settee. He popped his head out of the covers and gave them all a sleepy glance through the open doorway.

"Are we leaving already?" he asked with a yawn. At that moment, the fact that he was seeing Corwal up and about dawned on him, and he rushed off the settee. "Master, you're up!"

"Yeah, even though he should still be resting in a bed," Sylvester said with complaint in his voice. "Your fever isn't gone yet."

Corwal waved it away and put the water to heat. "It'll pass in a bit. I feel fine."

"You're here on a hunt?"

"You haven't heard the news?"

Sylvester shook his head while going to his desk to pick up a few herbs from one of the drawers. There seemed to be dried herbs hidden everywhere in his house. "I'm not running all around the country like you. I learn only what the rumors bring to the mansion. So what's happened?"

"The princess was kidnapped."

The speed at which Sylvester's head snapped back should have resulted in a broken neck. He looked at Corwal in shock and disbelief. "You don't mean…"

"I do. Princess Kyla was taken half a day's ride from here. I don't know much, but the bandits in the area said that an armored force waited in the forest for a couple days and then left around the time of the kidnapping. We were apprehended by your guards before we could investigate more."

"Too easy," Sylvester murmured, thinking. His eyes almost closed as he sifted through his memories for anything useful. Moments later, they flew open. "The lord's daughter went back home two weeks ago."

This meant nothing to Arawn, but Corwal froze. He exchanged a look with Sylvester after which the other man nodded. It was almost like they could understand each other without even speaking.

"The daughter came four weeks ago to visit him," Sylvester said. "With a mercenary band. There was lots of gossip about what was wrong with the lord's personal guard, but no one knew anything. Then, she chose to return in a hurry even though she hadn't even met her father. It was so sudden, she even forgot her personal maid."

This looked like a possibility, but it could just as well be a coincidence. There was no solid proof anywhere.

Yet Corwal took it for the real thing without any hesitation. "I'll go after her. If anyone else comes to investigate—"

"I'll send them in another direction, don't worry. This lead is yours."

"Thanks."

They ate breakfast and drank tea. While they feasted on a warm meal, Sylvester left to prepare their travel gear. He couldn't return them their horses, but he could pack some food and blankets so they wouldn't have to starve or freeze on the road.

He complained about having to allow a sick man, a malnourished stick, and a young boy out his door, but his words held no real malice. Instead, he sounded genuinely worried.

When he sneaked them out of the compound through another secret passage, he held Arawn back for a moment. "I know you don't understand everything that's happening here, but do me the favor of watching over that fool, all right? I have a bad feeling that the day his hero complex gets him killed is no longer that far."

"You think he'd ever listen to me?" Arawn asked with doubt. In his eyes, Corwal had the tendency to do whatever came to his mind and not ask for anyone's opinion if it was a good idea.

Sylvester grimaced. "That's… You're strong. If you can't prevent him from getting into trouble, then be the one who drags him out of it. That should work, right?"

With another look at the man, Arawn suddenly realized something he hadn't noticed before. Although Sylvester stood tall and proud, there was a certain air of bleakness about him. His smile didn't reach his eyes.

Noticing something in his expression, Sylvester pushed him away. "Don't start pitying me now. I simply have the brains to understand when I would be a burden. Go now. They're waiting for you."

Arawn nodded and stepped away. Midway to his companions though, he turned back. Sylvester was standing by the passage's entrance, a lone figure among a couple trees. He waved, and the man waved back before disappearing into the ground.

When Arawn jogged to catch up to his group, there was a pondering look on Corwal's face. "What did he tell you?"

"That you're a troublemaker," Arawn answered without much thought. It wasn't the nicest thing to say though, so he looked up to see if Corwal wasn't insulted.

The man looked taken aback for a moment, then glanced back and chuckled. "That sounds like him. What a worrywart."

"Who is he? How do you two know each other?"

A moment of silence descended on them. Corwal seemed to be lost in thought, and Arawn looked around. They were walking through a cleaned forest. There was some undergrowth, but most of it had been cut off and brought away, so the path was easy. There was no obvious track, but they weren't impeded by any bushes or fallen trees.

"It's his story to tell, but what I can say is that we met in the academy, where we both trained to become the king's hounds. He was talented, could call on a lot of ether and use it well. This should have raised him to the top of the class, but he couldn't connect to the elements, not one of them. This made him relatively useless, and he was kicked out after the first year.

"I and a couple others found it incomprehensible. You see, to join that academy, we have to give up on everything: our old life, family, and even our name. We're reforged into people whose sole existence is to serve the king, and we get marked so that we could never leave. Yet they threw him out like a broken tool without a care that he would starve to death. After all, if he tried to return to his family, he would be executed."

Corwal scowled at the ground. "No one minded that though. Tools were meant to serve, and if they showed up to be flawed, they could be discarded." He raised his head then, and his annoyance was replaced by genuine mirth. "We were young and easy to rise up in protest at that time. I caught Sylvester on his way out and told him I would share everything I learned each day so he could prove all the teachers wrong. He called me an idiot and left with a scoff.

"A couple weeks later, I saw him next to my target, working as a bodyguard for some minor crime lord. It wasn't even a real fight, and I defeated him with ease before killing his charge. He was furious enough to curse me in three tongues, then stormed off before I could even say anything," Corwal said with a chuckle.

"We met a couple more times like that, and at some point he just gave up. My friends were weary, but they learned to tolerate him. In the end, Sylvester never got to master the elements, but he found his passion for herbology and became a doctor. And he's happy now, which I'm glad for. At least someone who left that hell has managed to have a good life."

It was a nice thought, but Arawn didn't think that everything was as perfect as Corwal believed it to be. If Sylvester was truly happy, why would his expression have looked so forlorn? The man had seemed like a lone oak standing in the middle of birch trees—tall and strong when compared to its slender colleagues, but a soul devoid of any companionship. He hadn't called on a single person while they were there, and no one had come to check up on him after the tumultuous night.

'But why did he not say a word of it and let Corwal continue with his illusion?' The question nagged at Arawn, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to voice it. If Sylvester didn't say anything, there had to be a reason for it.

'I'll ask him the next time I see him,' Arawn decided and nodded to himself.

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