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Shooting Star’s agonized roars echoed within Fire Dragon Mountain, ringing in Parn’s ears and sending shivers down his spine. It flailed its massive body desperately, spewing fire from its tooth-lined maw like a furious geyser erupting into the dark sky. Tremors shook the earth, splitting chunks of rock and carving platforms from the crumbling walls.

“We don’t have much time! Move it!” King Kashue commanded.

Parn would have followed Kashue’s orders without hesitation. But on the way out, he saw something that made him stop in his tracks. Ashram was hunched over, standing still on a ledge that was cleaving itself from the rock. He wasn’t making any attempt to escape his impending demise. Was he still alive? Parn hadn’t even realized he’d survived Shooting Star’s fire breath.

Parn wasn’t going to stand by and watch Ashram meet his end here. Ignoring Kashue’s protests, he sprinted over to Ashram, leapt onto the falling ledge, and grabbed his shoulders, shaking them.

“Ashram! Ashram!”

“Let me be!” Ashram growled.

“No!” Parn fumbled his way past Ashram’s cape, the left side of it still torn from where he had slashed it earlier. He hooked his elbows into Ashram’s armpits, pulling Ashram toward him. Ashram dug his feet in hard, but Parn didn’t give up.

“Parn, are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Kashue roared, making the hair on Parn’s neck stand on end. “Come on! Let him go!”

“I’m not letting go!” Parn pulled hard, grunting with the effort. Kashue locked his arms around his middle, and Parn held tightly onto Ashram as Kashue whisked him away from the ledge. Parn landed in Kashue’s lap with an “oof,” and Ashram fell on top of him.

Heat rushed to Parn’s face. He mumbled an apology and scrambled to his feet. As he pulled Ashram up with one hand, he looked past him to the ledge. His heart dropped into his stomach when he saw the dark elf woman who had always traveled with Ashram lying motionless on her side. That must have been why Ashram had resisted him.

But Ashram wasn’t going to die with her. He was still alive. Furrowing his brow, Parn gripped Ashram’s hand tightly and followed Kashue out of the crumbling mountain. He kept his gaze firmly locked on Kashue’s back and only glanced over his shoulder occasionally to ensure that Ashram was still behind him. Ashram wasn’t trying to wrest himself from Parn’s grip, and he wasn’t looking back, though he averted his gaze whenever Parn checked on him. Parn wouldn’t meet his eyes, either.

Finally, the rumbling stopped, and they saw daylight. Back on solid ground, Parn paused to breathe, still clutching Ashram’s hand. It was cooler outside the mountain, but given how close they were to the desert of Flaim, he could hardly tell the difference. His face was flushed, and his head was spinning. The sweater he wore under his armor was soaked at the underarms and clung to his back, and his hair was plastered to the back of his neck.

Deedlit’s question brought him back to reality. “Is he okay?”

Ashram’s hand had gone limp. When Parn turned around to check on him, he saw that he had collapsed into a black heap of hair and metal.

“Is he dead?” Shiris asked, staring wide-eyed at the heap.

Kashue stooped to the ground, carefully turning Ashram over and placing two fingers at the base of his jaw. “He still has a pulse.”

“He fainted,” Orson said.

Kashue nodded. “Heat exhaustion. He’s not used to this climate.”

Shiris frowned. “Of course not! Look at that armor!”

“Parn!” King Kashue shouted, making Parn flinch. “Why did you save him?”

Parn opened his mouth to explain, but nothing came out. He had just saved Ashram on impulse. It just hadn’t felt right for him to die there.

“You didn’t think about it,” Deed said, placing her hand on his upper arm. “Right?”

Parn bowed his head and stared at the ground.

“Regardless, I am pleased with your quick thinking,” Kashue said brightly.

A rush of pride instantly washed away Parn’s shame. “R-Really?”

“Yes. Following Beld’s death, Ashram has become the leader of Marmo. I can tell by his sword.” Kashue pushed aside Ashram’s cape, turning the hilt of his sword over so that the others could see the gold ornamentation on the guard—a hollow eye with a round purple gem for its pupil.

“The Demon Sword, Soul Crusher,” Orson said.

Kashue nodded. “Though he has only been emperor for a short time, there is much he knows that we do not. Gathering information from him will be vital.”

The gravity of what Parn had done dropped like a stone on his shoulders. Ashram was no longer just the villain in black who had burned down Fort Myce and cost Captain Jebra his life. As the new leader of Marmo, he now dictated the ambitions and actions of the empire and its army. He was responsible for an entire country and all of its people, which made him King Kashue’s equal. Parn gritted his teeth at the thought. Ashram was almost as skilled with the sword as Kashue, maybe even more skilled, but Parn could never hold him in such high regard. He had taken not just the lives of everyone at Fort Myce, but the lives of so many during the War of Heroes.

“You’re right, Your Majesty!” Parn shouted. “As soon as he’s awake again, he’s going to talk. We need answers from him!”

“Yes, but don’t rush in.” Kashue looked around at everyone. “We need a set of rules to follow first.

“One, no one should be alone with our enemy. That will only invite trouble. Two, two guards will monitor him at all times.

“Three, I will remove his weapons and armor. One of you will have to carry the Demon Sword so that he cannot access it if he wakes up. It is a very powerful and dangerous blade. Orson, I nominate you for this task.”

Orson nodded. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

“Remember, no one should be alone with Ashram. Even though I will bind his hands and feet to restrain him, he is still very dangerous. Do I make myself clear?”

Everyone nodded, saying “yes” in affirmation.

Smiling in satisfaction, Kashue started unbuckling Ashram’s armor. Orson and Shiris knelt to help him. Parn looked on, watching as Orson effortlessly lifted Ashram’s enormous sword and buckled it across his waist.

Deed was tense next to him, just as tense as he felt. He wasn’t sure if he felt conflicted about his choice now, or if it was only that the reality of what he had gotten them into by saving Ashram was finally setting in.

—

The march back to the capital of Blade was long and hot, and their water supply was drying up, which wasn’t helping. Ashram still wasn’t waking up, or at least, he hadn’t stirred. Kashue had draped him sideways over the back of his horse. Parn followed Kashue closely and studied Ashram.

Without his armor on, he wasn’t nearly as imposing, but he was still broad-shouldered and impossibly muscular. His sculpted build, together with his bone-white skin that sharply contrasted his midnight-black hair, made him look like a statue of a god that was trying to fit in among humans by wearing their clothing.

Goosebumps rising on his arms, Parn swallowed thickly and slackened his pace a little. He was always so overwhelmed by anger whenever he saw Ashram that he had never realized how uneasy the enemy commander made him feel. He didn’t just look like a statue—he was still and cold like stone. A chill ran down Parn’s spine when he remembered how Ashram had loomed over Fort Myce, a black-caped phantom.

Parn gripped the reins of his horse more tightly. He still felt a pang in his heart every time he remembered what had happened at Fort Myce. Captain Jebra had been the first to recognize his potential and believe that he had what it took to become a knight. Before that, Ghim had teased him about his lack of skill, which, at that point, hadn’t made him feel much better than the jeers he’d heard growing up. Of course, without Ghim, he wouldn’t have made it this far, either. But now Ghim, just like Jebra before him, was gone. Forever.

Ashram wasn’t responsible for Ghim’s death, but he was still the emperor of Marmo, and the Marmo Empire had been responsible for so much suffering and death. Parn’s insides swirled with anger and sorrow when he thought about all the dead bodies he’d seen in the aftermath of the War of Heroes. Two kings had died that day, and the man he’d met on the ride to the battlefield hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to his son. It was so unfair, and it made Parn’s forehead burn with rage. Hands shaking, he gritted his teeth and tried to suppress his fury so he wouldn’t pull too hard on the horse’s reins.

“Hey, Parn, you good?” Shiris called as she rode up beside him.

Parn stuttered in surprise before lowering his head and replying, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Don’t get too deep in thought. You’ll miss the next turn if you do.” She slowed her pace slightly so she didn’t get ahead of Kashue.

Parn lifted his head and kept following Kashue. He glanced at Ashram now and then, but tried his best to focus on the path ahead. Maybe if they got back early enough, Kashue would be able to spare some time to train with him. He began daydreaming about using some of the techniques that Kashue had taught him to best him in combat, completely forgetting his anger, fear, and sorrow in his excitement.

—

Upon their return to Blade, capital of Flaim, Ashram was detained not to an underground prison but to one of the guest rooms in Castle Akrohd. Kashue had insisted that he would treat Ashram well while he was being kept prisoner, and since Parn and the others were staying at Akrohd, it would be easier for them to monitor him. There was no window in Ashram’s room, and it was to be locked tightly at all times, with two guards keeping watch as Kashue had stipulated. He would receive two meals a day, and Parn had agreed to take him his evening meal, the first since their return. In case Ashram decided to lash out, Kashue didn’t want any of his defenseless waitstaff to get hurt.

Strangely, the guards were absent when Parn arrived. Rather than going to tell Kashue, Parn fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He was still following Kashue’s rules; after all, it wasn’t good for Ashram to be left totally unattended.

Ashram was sitting up in bed, his narrow eyes open, dark beads nested in white slits. Every muscle in Parn’s body tensed, like a string being wound tight, and when Ashram’s upper lip twitched just slightly, the string frayed and snapped.

Parn flung the tray aside, not even wincing when the porcelain dishes shattered, and sprinted toward the bed. Snarling, he pounced on Ashram, tackling him and pinning him to the bed. Heart pounding in his ears, he clutched a fistful of Ashram’s loose shirt and punched him square in the jaw. Ashram winced and let out a quiet grunt.

“You monster!” Parn spat. “Why did you burn down Fort Myce?!” He gripped the collar of Ashram’s shirt with both hands and tried to shake him. “Answer me!”

Ashram glared at him, his gaze as empty as ever. “Fort Myce?” He scoffed. “You’re still hung up on something from so long ago?”

“Of course I am! I’ll never forgive you for what you did. I should—” He paused to catch his breath, shuddering with fury. “I should tear you to shreds for what you did to Fort Myce. To Captain Jebra. For everything you and the Marmo have done to Lodoss!”

“What would that solve?”

“I wouldn’t have to look at you anymore. You wouldn’t be able to kill any more people!”

Parn moved his trembling hands to hover over Ashram’s neck. His ears started ringing as he stared at Ashram’s pale throat. A vicious, cruel part of him was egging him on and telling him to do it, to get it over with. That he would be a hero if he rid Lodoss of this vile menace. But when he closed his eyes, he couldn’t stop seeing all those dead bodies lying on the battlefield, and the trail of bodies he had left in his own wake.

Parn hesitated for too long. He yelped as Ashram suddenly pushed himself to sit up using the strength in his core, causing him to fall on his back and onto Ashram’s legs. While Parn was vulnerable, Ashram lifted his arms, tied at the wrists, over Parn’s head and pulled him swiftly toward him, pressing him to his broad chest with one elbow and squeezing forcefully. At the mercy of the crushing pressure against his throat, Parn could only cough and gasp for breath.

“What would my death solve?” Ashram repeated, his low, gravelly voice rumbling in Parn’s ear. “Did Emperor Beld’s death solve anything?”

Parn’s stomach churned with dread. Ashram was right. Emperor Beld’s death hadn’t solved anything for them. Did Ashram mean that there was somebody else waiting in the wings if he died? King Fahn still didn’t have a successor, so King Kashue had taken over spearheading the war effort. Did Ashram know that, too?

“Let—me—go!” Parn wheezed, flailing his legs helplessly. He felt horribly lightheaded, and his vision was starting to blur.

“If I off you now, you’ll have no chance of becoming a thorn in my side,” Ashram mused. His complete lack of emotion made Parn’s skin crawl, and he strained harder to wriggle out of Ashram’s grip, flailing and kicking his legs.

He landed a solid hit on Ashram’s knee, causing Ashram to flinch and loosen his hold almost reflexively. Parn raised his hands and forced Ashram’s tied arms over his head, rolling off the bed and scrambling to his feet.

“If you kill me, there’ll be a big price to pay,” Parn shouted, willing his trembling voice to stay calm. “King Kashue will hear about this!”

“Should I be scared?” Ashram taunted.

Parn gritted his teeth. “Don’t you dare insult King Kashue. You’re no match for him!”

“Hmph. I wouldn’t expect to hear anything different from the Mercenary King’s pet.”

“I am not King Kashue’s pet!” Parn snapped.

Parn startled as someone flung open the door behind him. A guard charged in, grabbing him by the arm and escorting him out of the room, and another turned his attention to cleaning up the broken dishes.

“Are you hurt, Sir Parn?” the guard asked, briskly rushing him up the steps to the next floor.

“N-No, I’m not.” Parn’s voice cracked on the last word. His throat still felt achy.

“We will report this to His Majesty instantly. I am very concerned that there was an altercation between you two.”

“I started it,” Parn mumbled.

“Regardless, Ashram was clearly aggressive toward you. His Majesty must know.”

Parn hung his head as they approached the throne room. He wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable scolding from King Kashue.

—

“Are you unhurt?” Kashue asked, tipping Parn’s chin up with one finger to check his neck. “Hm, it hasn’t bruised yet.”

Heat bloomed in Parn’s cheeks. “I-I’m fine. I’m just feeling a bit short of breath…”

“I should think so!” Kashue bellowed, making Parn flinch. “What were you thinking, Parn?!”

“Ah—Um—I’m sorry, Your Majes—”

“No, I know the answer to that—you weren’t thinking!” Kashue interrupted, folding his arms across his chest, brow furrowed. “First you disobeyed my order at Fire Dragon Mountain. ‘No heroics.’ You had to try to be a hero and save Ashram. Now you have broken the rules I clearly set for you. If you do not cease your recklessness, you will get yourself killed!”

“I—I—” Parn shook his head. “I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“Go!” Kashue pointed to the entrance to the audience chamber, and the guard who had brought Parn in escorted him out.

Parn sighed, shoulders sagging as he shuffled back to the common room where he had placed his armor on a stand a day earlier. After being scolded by Kashue, he wasn’t in the mood to train, but he could easily pass the time by polishing his armor.

He slowly set about dismantling the suit of armor. Sitting on the floor with a vial of oil and a rag, he started with the pauldrons and quickly got absorbed in his task. He was so engrossed in cleaning the dirt from the eaves of the breastplate that he didn’t realize Deed had come in until she said his name.

“Hi, Deed,” he said, looking over at her.

“I heard about what happened. Are you all right?”

Parn averted his eyes. “I guess I got King Kashue mad at me.”

“He’s just trying to look out for you,” she said gently.

“I know.”

“You didn’t really want to kill Ashram, did you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t want to watch him die. At Fire Dragon Mountain.”

“Not really.”

“Didn’t you want to get revenge for the Captain?”

Parn said nothing.

“I know why you can’t watch him die. You’re still thinking about Ghim and Wood, aren’t you?”

Parn’s heart ached, throbbing like a fresh open wound, and he hung his head.

Deed sighed. “Oh, Parn…”

“Ashram lost somebody, too. That dark elf woman who was always with him.”

“Yes,” Deed said, sounding tense again. “The one who tried to capture me.”

She fell quiet, and Parn returned to his task. He finished polishing his cuirass and moved onto the tassets. Then he carefully cleaned the grime from both of the hinges on each greave. Once each hinge was clean, he applied a drop of oil to ensure it wouldn’t rust.

Deed broke the silence. “I wonder if Ashram is feeling upset,” she murmured.

Parn set down his cleaning cloth. “I’ll go talk to him again.”

“Don’t go alone. Let me come.”

Parn stood up, offering his hand to her. “All right. Let’s go.”

—

Deed was still clutching Parn’s hand when they walked in the room. She only let go when they sat down. Ashram turned his head when the door closed, fixing his gaze on Parn.

“You again?” he muttered.

Parn nodded once, trying not to furrow his brow or frown.

“Why do you insist on showing your face a second time? If you hadn’t saved me, I wouldn’t need to plan my escape.”

“You’re not getting out of here!” Parn snapped. Deed started to whisper his name, but he cut in before she could finish. “And just what are you planning to do when you escape?”

Ashram’s lips twitched, almost a smirk. “Return to Marmo, of course.”

“What are you going to do with the Scepter of Domination?”

“Do you expect me to tell you?”

Parn growled, curling his fingers against his thigh.

“Were you really planning to die with the dark elf woman?” Deed asked out of the blue.

All Ashram said was, “Hmph.”

“You wouldn’t have stayed with her if you had held onto the Scepter of Domination,” Deed said. “Did you lose it?”

“Though it is no longer with me, the Scepter remains in Marmo’s possession.”

“Who has it?!” Parn shouted, leaning forward.

Ashram remained tight-lipped. Parn grumbled in frustration, clutching handfuls of his pants in tight fists.

“Then it must have been hard for you to leave her behind,” Deed continued. “She was loyal to the end.” She lowered her head, gazing at the ground with half-lidded eyes. “I know what it’s like to have a companion die. It hurts more than anything.”

Parn watched Ashram for any change in his expression, but he remained stoic as ever. Anger flared in his chest. “Did you care about her at all?!” he spat.

Deed held out her arm in front of him. “Ignore him!” Folding her hands in her lap, she said, “Your departed companion would have done anything for your sake, right? Even if it wasn’t something you asked her to do, like capturing a high elf.”

Ashram scoffed. “Who said it wasn’t my order?”

“You monster!” Parn shot up from his chair, taking a forceful step forward. “Tell the truth or I’ll strangle the words right out of your throat!”

“Parn, don’t be so cruel!” Deed cried. “He’s still upset about losing her.”

“Think of me what you wish. I have nothing more to say.”

Parn curled his lip in disgust. “I’ll never feel bad for you!” He shoved his chair aside, and it fell to the floor with a clatter. He stormed out of the room, Deed trailing him.

“That didn’t get anywhere,” Deed muttered.

“He didn’t care that he lost her!” Parn shook his head. “He’s just as cold as I always thought!”

“Now, Parn,” Deed started, but Parn wasn’t interested in getting scolded a second time. He stomped back to the room where he’d been polishing his armor. Scooping up his sword, he drew it from its sheath. When he turned around, Deed was standing in his way.

“What are you doing, Parn?!” she shrieked.

“I’m doing what I should have done right away! All Ashram cares about is conquering Lodoss!”

“No! You’re not thinking. If you cut him down now, how are you going to find out what the Marmo are trying to do?”

“If I kill him, I’ll get revenge for the pain that he and the Marmo caused us. I’ll finally avenge Captain Jebra’s death!”

“Do you think you’ll solve anything with the loss of another life?!” Deed shouted, her eyes shimmering with emotion.

Parn gasped, his heart jumping into his throat. He remembered what she had said at Fire Dragon Mountain before they had killed Shooting Star—life is life—and remembered Kashue’s rules. Shamefully, he lowered his sword.

“You’re right. I’m not thinking.” He sheathed his sword and sat cross-legged on the floor, elbow on one bent knee and chin in his hand, and sighed.

Deed stooped down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stay away from him until you’re ready.”

Parn nodded, accepting that she was right. King Kashue had told him a couple times during training that it was important to take breaks when he got frustrated. He wasn’t going to feel any less angry at Ashram the next day, but if he didn’t rest now, he might hurt himself or Ashram again, or do something that would upset Kashue even more.

“Think it over,” she said, and Parn turned to her. Her brow was knit in concern, her expression earnest. “Ashram must be going through his own pain, just like you are. Underneath that black armor, he’s still human. Even if it’s impossible to forgive what he’s done…” She sighed. “He is your enemy, but you have no chance of getting anything out of him if you don’t try to understand him.”

“Understand him?” Parn echoed. He furrowed his brow. “I understand him perfectly, all right!”

“Listen to me!” Deed squeezed his shoulder. “I know how upset you are. I am, too. But Ashram did care about that woman. Why else would he have stayed behind with her at Fire Dragon Mountain? If the Scepter was already won, why didn’t he head straight to Marmo? You saw it for yourself. That means you should be the one to ask him about it.”

Why had Ashram wanted to die? It almost reminded Parn of Ghim and his determination to complete his mission at all costs. Ghim had been willing to sacrifice himself for Leylia’s sake as long as he achieved his goal. If Ashram had been willing to die with the dark elf woman, that must have meant he’d fulfilled his mission. Either that, or something had gone seriously wrong. Retrieving the Scepter hadn’t been his sole purpose in life, so why had he tried to let himself die with the woman?

“Do you understand what I mean?” Deed asked gently.

Parn clutched his head with a sigh. “I do. I just… need to think it over.” If he thought too hard, he’d get too wrapped up in his thoughts and then he’d get frustrated. He needed to rest, like Deed had told him, and tomorrow, he’d be ready to face Ashram again.

—

Parn woke up an hour after sunrise feeling refreshed. The bright sun blazed brilliantly in the sky, sending rays of natural light in his window that made him beam from ear to ear. He turned to the corner of the room where his sword stood, and his heart fluttered with excitement for early morning training. But his high spirits were quashed when he remembered that King Kashue was still upset with him.

Feeling a little discouraged, he nonetheless got dressed and suited up, heading downstairs to the back entrance of Akrohd’s training grounds. If no one else showed up, he could at least practice his forms. When he arrived, he was encouraged to see Orson was there. Squared up for battle, he was holding a massive black sword, glowing with a black and purple aura. Parn froze, a shudder running through his whole frame.

“Orson, should you be trying to wield that?!” Parn cried, his fear quickly turning to dread.

Orson relaxed his stance, turning toward Parn. He held the Demon Sword in one hand, letting it rest at his side. “I’m fine,” he said coolly.

“But it’s dangerous. What if the sword is too powerful for you? Or Ashram finds out?”

“It’s not too powerful for me. But it would be for you, and likely even for King Kashue.”

Parn tilted his head, less alarmed now and more intrigued. “Why?”

“This sword is imbued with raw spiritual energy.” Orson lowered his head. “It makes Hyuri tremble inside of me. I am uneven on my feet when I grasp it.”

“Put it down before you lose control of yourself!”

But Orson didn’t put the sword down, instead asking, “Is Deedlit particularly repulsed by this sword?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I see. Maybe she can’t hear them after all.”

Parn swallowed uneasily. “‘Th—Them’?” he stammered.

“The cries of the souls this blade has absorbed. Some are fainter than others. Two voices rise above the rest. A grizzled, aged swordsman, and a woman with a voice like velvet.” Orson’s finger twitched on the sword’s hilt. “I struggle to listen to them for too long. So I try to block them out.”

“The—The sword—” Parn was too horrified to finish his sentence. The sword was haunted?

“I wonder. Does Ashram hear the voices, too?”

“But he doesn’t seem afraid of the sword at all. Maybe…” Parn swallowed. “Maybe he had to go through a lot of hard training to master it.”

“He must have learned from someone very powerful,” Orson mused. “Why don’t we ask him? I’ll leave the sword with King Kashue.”

Parn nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

It would be much easier to maintain his composure with Orson there with him. Though the first time he’d met Orson had been when he’d lost his temper, most of the time, Orson was still as a lake on a summer day. Sometimes when Parn was burning with anger or on the verge of tears, he would see no change on Orson’s face and be overwhelmed with envy and irritation. But for the most part, he liked fighting alongside such a calm, steady companion.

A stoic presence usually comforted and encouraged him, but Ashram just angered and unnerved him. Even Orson and King Kashue could fall victim to their emotions. Did Ashram even have emotions? Was he scared of the haunted sword he wielded? But in spite of his misgivings, Parn knew that Deed was right. To get Ashram to even begin to confess anything, Parn first had to understand him, and that meant he had to find out the story behind that sword.

—

Orson knocked on the door to Ashram’s room. He opened it a crack, then walked slowly inside. Parn tensed when Ashram glared coldly at him, but he ignored the cramps of irritation in his stomach and sat down next to Orson.

“Good morning,” Orson said, sounding no different from his usual calm demeanor. “You must be frustrated to miss your daily training.”

“If the Desert King insists on treating me so well, he might also humor me with a duel,” Ashram said. “A mortal one, of course.” He smirked.

Parn scowled. He barely resisted the urge to retort that Kashue would instantly drive his sword right through Ashram’s cold, unfeeling heart.

Ignoring Ashram’s challenge, Orson said, “You are an accomplished swordsman to have mastered the Demon Sword. Did you learn from Emperor Beld?”

Ashram sniffed. “I couldn’t have. It was his blade. When I became its master, he was already dead.”

“You’ve taken up the Emperor’s mantle.”

“So I have. But there is only one man worthy of that title. He carried it to his grave.”

“You’re upset that he died.”

Just like yesterday, Ashram’s expression didn’t change. All he had to offer was his usual “hmph.”

Before Parn could cut in, Orson said, “It took a toll on you. I can tell. Are the Emperor’s shoes too big to fill?”

Parn clutched his knees, leaning forward slightly. He was beginning to catch on to Orson’s line of questioning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ashram said.

“Don’t play dumb!” Parn shouted.

“Do you hear them?” Orson asked, and Parn froze.

Ashram quirked a brow. “‘Them’?”

“The voices. An old, hardened former mercenary… A woman who would lay down her life for your sake. I can still hear her say, ‘I will return to your side before this wound heals clean.’”

Ashram’s expression changed, but it was too sudden and jarring for Parn to feel pleased that Orson had finally cracked his stern façade. Briefly, he raised both eyebrows, his lips parting slightly, his eyes widening. Then he quickly caught himself, instead furrowing his brow and sneering, but it was a poor way to cover up the pain that had flashed across his features a moment earlier.

“You’re sick in the head, berserker!” Ashram snapped, turning away from Orson. In the corner of his eye, Parn saw Orson fold his arms, almost pridefully. He knew that this was a victory for them—that Orson wasn’t being cruel, only celebrating in his own subdued way—but strangely, Parn almost felt upset with Orson for pushing Ashram to his breaking point.

“Voices?” Ashram muttered to himself. “There are no voices. You’re just imagining them. Just imagining them…”

“Maybe I am,” Orson said, his composure still perfect. “Do you know these voices? They drown out the rest. Sometimes they are difficult to listen to.”

“Difficult for you,” Ashram retorted, seemingly having regained some semblance of his own composure. “Mastering the sword means ignoring the cries of the dead. This is what it means to feel the Emperor’s plight.”

“To fill the Emperor’s shoes, you must grow used to hearing the cries of the dead,” Orson mused. “I think we’re done here. Thank you for your cooperation, Ashram.”

“Hmph. I gave nothing away that would help you.”

“You gave enough away,” Orson said, and Parn, still haunted by an odd pang of sympathy for Ashram, understood perfectly what he meant.

—

“That was good.” Orson almost sounded cheerful, though it was always hard to tell with his lack of emotion. “We finally broke him.”

“Yeah,” Parn mumbled, hanging his head.

What Orson had said moments earlier kept playing over and over in his mind. To fill the Emperor’s shoes, you must grow used to hearing the cries of the dead. Parn still struggled to accept that protecting people as a knight meant being willing to take a life. Was Ashram scared of the destruction he and Emperor Beld had wrought? Was he upset that he had lost Beld and the dark elf woman?

Maybe Ashram woke up and still expected to hear that woman’s voice. Maybe there were days he thought he could pick up his sword and still train with Beld. Parn’s heart clenched, and tears burned behind his eyes when he thought about the two missing spots at the table the last time he and Deed had been together with Slayn and Etoh. Ashram had probably sat around the war table with Beld and that woman. Now he was alone. Was it really right for King Kashue to keep Ashram captive, away from Marmo?

“You’re quieter than usual.”

Parn startled. Orson had broken him out of his thoughts. He shook his head. He couldn’t start feeling bad for Ashram! He couldn’t forget, and he would never forgive, what Ashram had done.

“I’m fine!” Parn blurted, lifting his head to meet Orson’s inquiring eyes.

“You need time to think about everything you’ve learned. Don’t you?”

“M—Maybe…” Parn averted his eyes.

“It’s understandable. This is a lot to take in. Why don’t you tell King Kashue what you found out?”

“But he’s still mad at me…”

“He won’t be if you tell him we found Ashram’s weak point. Besides, I don’t think he could stay upset with you for long, anyway. He’s very fond of you.”

The tips of Parn’s ears burned, his cheeks flushing with heat. “You think so?”

“I’m certain. Go on, Parn. Talk to him.”

Parn met Orson’s eyes again. Beaming, he cried, “Thank you for your help, Orson!” Then he turned on his heel, running upstairs to King Kashue’s quarters.

Kashue wasn’t in his sitting room, nor did Parn find him in the audience chamber. When he asked his attendant, he said he was on the balcony on the roof. Parn climbed up to the roof, still out of breath when he saw Kashue, dressed down to his robes and headscarf, standing with his hands on the railing of the balcony. Hesitantly, Parn walked up to the balcony, keeping about ten steps’ distance from Kashue, and was left even more breathless by the view of the city of Blade, the white houses shining in the late morning light.

Kashue’s deep voice snapped Parn out of his amazement. “Ah, it’s you, Parn.”

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Parn said, resisting the urge to drop to his knees before him. Kashue had emphasized on multiple occasions that when Parn was outside the audience chamber, there was no need to act deferentially. Parn had gotten used to not bowing, but he couldn’t bring himself to refer to Kashue without his title.

“Did you speak with Ashram again?”

Parn started to answer, then remembered that Kashue was still upset with him. “I’m sorry for yesterday!”

Kashue quirked a brow. “That no longer matters. Answer my question, Parn. Did you speak with Ashram again since yesterday?”

“I did. I mean, we did. Deed and I talked to him.”

“I am aware. She informed me. Did you speak with him this morning?”

“Yes.” Parn bowed his head, curling his hands against the railing. “Ashram…” He closed his eyes briefly. “Ashram’s sword is haunted. And he’s scared of the voices…”

“I see.” Kashue hummed. “That’s helpful to know.”

“‘Helpful,’ Your Majesty? What do you mean?”

“If we bring Soul Crusher into the room while we speak with him, it might be a good way to soften him up.”

“That’s terrible!” Parn cried. “You can’t mean to torture Ashram with the cries of the dead. That’s inhumane!”

“Inhumane?” Kashue bellowed. “As if what he did to all of us, and to our people, is not inhumane? Have you forgotten the death and destruction you saw during the war? All of that was Marmo’s fault!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Parn slammed his fist against the railing, making it vibrate and causing Kashue to pull away from leaning on it. “We killed all those people from Marmo, too. Ashram has to listen to those voices every day. He’s just as scared and hurt as we are!”

“But the Marmo Empire wants to conquer all of Lodoss! Are you going to submit yourself to their vision just because you feel bad for Ashram? Haven’t you lost just as much as he has? Do you plan to grovel at his feet? Or will you stand up and fight him like a true warrior?”

“I don’t want to fight him anymore!”

“Enough, Parn!”

Kashue stomped toward him, his hands clenched firmly into fists. With each step, he grew more menacing. Parn swallowed, gripping the railing tightly, his palms moist inside his gloves, beads of sweat rolling down his back.

“Listen to yourself,” Kashue muttered once he was half a step away from Parn, looming over him. “Have you lost your conviction? Where is your bravery? Where is that knight now, when we need him most? You cannot give in to Ashram just because you feel sorry for him. If you do, you will be feeling sorry for yourself. Get a hold of yourself!”

He stormed off the balcony in a huff. Parn’s heart plummeted into his stomach and sat there heavy as a boulder. Kashue was right. He would be forgetting himself if he kept feeling bad for Ashram. Hadn’t Woodchuck fought alongside him in the war, against Beld and Ashram? Hadn’t Ghim made fending off the Marmo his goal, too, even if he had ultimately been seeking Karla so he could free Leylia?

Now Karla had captured Wood. If Parn found Wood and freed him from Karla’s possession, it would patch up one of the holes in his heart that had only been growing ever since that day. Hunting down Karla was what he really wanted to do. But the Marmo were getting in the way. Ashram was stopping him from finding Karla and rescuing his companion. The rage rose in Parn’s chest again, though it was hard to be completely consumed by anger when he was already drowning in sorrow.

Parn dragged his feet walking back to the common area. He unbuckled his armor and placed it on the stand, then headed back to his quarters, running past Deed when he passed her on the way there. He closed and locked the door, stretching out on the bed and closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to blink back the tears.

—

Parn’s nap wasn’t the peaceful break he’d hoped it would be. He had vivid dreams of Ashram kneeling at Emperor Beld’s corpse, of the Holy Knights draping the flag of Valis over the body of King Fahn. Wood and Kashue told him that this was the way it was supposed to be, that knights and soldiers were fated to die in bloody battles, fated to sacrifice their lives for their country. He heard Ghim laughing, heard him grunt as he closed his eyes, felt him lying cold and limp in his arms. When his hot tears dripped onto Ghim’s tunic, they blossomed into flowers of red, drops of blood falling from his eyes.

Parn’s eyes flashed open with a shuddering gasp. His heart was racing. Rolling onto his back, he pressed his hands to his forehead, dragging them down his face until his fingertips grazed his jaw. He had to do something to forget his nightmares. Go on a walk or talk to Deed or—

Someone knocked on his door, startling him. He sat up, smoothed down his bedhead with one hand—though he still had the cowlick that stuck up in the back—and got to his feet. It was already midday, he hadn’t had any breakfast, and his stomach was aching too much to ignore any longer. Ghim would have already made sure he was fed by now.

He opened the door. Shiris was smiling at him.

“Hey,” she said. “Just checking that you’re still alive.” She was holding a bread roll in one hand. “Here. You haven’t eaten since yesterday’s dinner.”

Parn nodded. “Thanks,” he mumbled, tearing into the hard, crusty bread.

“King Kashue wanted you to know he wasn’t going to use the sword to intimidate Ashram.”

“Then how will he get him to talk?”

“We mercenaries have our ways.” Shiris winked. “I’m gonna pretend I want him to hire me. Orson, too. We’ll see if we can get him to cough up what this whole plot is really about.” She furrowed her brow and lowered her voice. “Parn, what about the Scepter of Domination and the plot to capture Deedlit? Do you think they’re connected?”

Parn frowned, chewing in thought before he spoke. “I don’t know. But Deed brought up an interesting point. Why would Ashram have tried to die at Fire Dragon Mountain if the Marmo have the Scepter?”

“It was supposed to stay with him, wasn’t it?” Shiris said. “But someone else got it. There’s a bigger, even more evil force at work here. Somebody who makes Ashram quake in his boots. Maybe even somebody who wouldn’t care if Emperor Beld, let alone Ashram, died.”

Bile rose in Parn’s throat as he realized who Shiris meant. “Karla!” he hissed.

“Exactly!” Shiris said with a nod. “Karla’s behind all of this. She was helping the Marmo out during the war.”

“Karla claims she wants to preserve balance,” Parn recalled. “And since Marmo has lost its emperor, and we have King Kashue, she’s probably still trying to give them the upper hand.” He gritted his teeth. “Karla! I should have known!”

Shiris set her hand on his shoulder. “Let us handle this, Parn. Part of being a merc is asking your boss the right questions before you decide to take the job. Most importantly, how much are you paying?” She grinned. “Listen in if you want. We’ll fill you in later on.” She withdrew her hand from his shoulder and gave him a brief wave before closing the door behind her.

“Good luck,” Parn murmured. He clenched his hands into tight fists. Karla. Of course Karla was behind all of this.

He turned around, intending to look out the window, but stumbled, backing against the locked door, when he saw a phantom cape floating there. Its back was turned to him, and dark hair cascaded down the high collar.

“You are mistaken,” a dignified, deep masculine voice said, echoing in his mind.

Then he blinked, and the cape was gone.

“Did I—?” Parn curled his hand uneasily around the door’s latch. “Was I just imagining…?”

That couldn’t have been… Karla?

—

Shaken by his nightmares and the strange apparition in his quarters, Parn escaped to the training grounds for a distraction. One of Kashue’s subordinates came by and indulged him in a few matches before departing to go on patrol. Parn was still starving, so he went back inside the castle for dinner. No one mentioned anything about Ashram, but King Kashue said he was planning on having a banquet the following evening to celebrate their victory against Shooting Star.

Parn couldn’t even think about partying. He had felt vaguely nauseous and dizzy all day, and his throat still ached from Ashram’s attempt to strangle him. He went upstairs to sit on one of the sofas in the common room. He noticed Shiris had followed him up there, and he turned to her, trying to show that he was willing to listen.

“He seemed pretty pissed when we wondered if he was working with Karla,” she said. “But there is someone he’s working with. I’m sure of it.”

“Not Karla? Did you get a name?”

“‘Wagnard.’” Shiris curled her lip. “Sounds like a pretty evil guy, huh?”

Parn frowned. “‘Wagnard’? I’ve never heard that name before.”

“King Kashue says he’s Marmo’s court wizard, but that’s most of what he knows about him. Deed thinks Slayn might know more.”

Parn hummed in thought, stroking his chin with his thumb. He thought about the strange cape that had appeared before him earlier. If it hadn’t been Karla, could it have been Wagnard?

“Either way, it definitely gives him a reason to have tried to die at Fire Dragon Mountain,” Shiris said. “That Wagnard has got it all covered. Ashram might be nasty, but he’s the real villain here.”

“So we need to go after Wagnard…”

“I told King Kashue that, but he’s not convinced. Still suspects Ashram might be lying to us.”

“He may be right…”

But didn’t Ashram have a mission to fulfill? Why would he hand over control of Lodoss to someone else? Or maybe… maybe he had given up because of this wizard’s machinations. Ashram had wanted the Scepter of Domination for himself, but the wizard had taken it. What about Deed? Was Ashram trying to capture a high elf for himself, or was he doing it for this Wagnard? Who was really ruling Marmo, and what was their aim?

“Think on it,” Shiris said. “See if you come up with anything else. Maybe we can get it out of him before the banquet. Then all we have to worry about is enjoying ourselves.”

“But what will we do when we know? What happens to Ashram?”

Shiris shrugged. “I guess that’s up to King Kashue. I assume he won’t let him free, right?”

Parn sighed. He was getting a headache just trying to understand it all. “I’m going to bed. Maybe I’ll figure something out in the morning.”

“Sleep tight,” Shiris said. “Don’t hurt your head over it.”

—

Parn’s window rattled open in the middle of the night, sending in an icy gust and rustling the bedsheets. He opened his eyes, clutching his bare shoulders. It was hot in Flaim, so he usually slept in only his underwear, but the room had suddenly grown colder than the mountains of northern Alania. Goosebumps rose on his exposed skin, and he drew the covers toward him. Maybe it was just a fairy fiddling with the window latch. But he doubted that was the case. Had someone sent a wind spirit to attack him? Or was it something else?

A black cape began to slowly materialize before him, and Parn instantly tensed. “You again,” he said under his breath, watching the shadow take shape. The strange figure had brown skin that was worn like leather, black hair that brushed its shoulders, and a scar on its square chin. A shiver ran down his spine, and his gut cramped with nausea, his whole body shaking not just from the cold, but from sheer shock.

He saw the gold circlet with its piercing red eyes, and hatred burned in his heart.

“W-Wood,” he stammered. “You took Wood from me!”

“I thank you for making my search for a new vessel most convenient,” Karla said, a cruel smile spreading across Wood’s face. Parn’s heart ached to hear Karla using his voice like he was her puppet. “However, it seems you did not listen the first time, so I must reiterate myself. You are mistaken. I am no longer aiding the people of Marmo.”

“Then what are you doing?!”

“I have a proposition to make, young hero.” Karla continued smiling. “Free Ashram, and I will tell you where I reside.”

“Why would I ever agree to work with you?! You killed Ghim! I’ll never forgive you!”

“Wouldn’t you? But you were so close to forgiving Ashram.” Karla chuckled, and the harsh sound of Wood’s laughter, now horrifically twisted, grated on Parn’s ears. “Don’t you want him to be free again? Don’t you feel bad for him? For everything he went through?”

“I do.” Parn hung his head. “Ashram lost Emperor Beld. He lost a loyal companion. And who knows what’s going on between him and Wagnard…” He raised his head. “But I’m still a knight. I have to protect everyone who’s relying on King Kashue. All the allied nations of Lodoss… no, Lodoss itself will never let Marmo win!” Parn curled his hands into fists. “I’m going to find you one day. I’m going to get you back, Wood! But first, I have to stop the Marmo. Wait for me until then. Please, Wood!”

Karla frowned. “Disappointing. Oh, well. I’m content enough to watch this play until the curtain falls. How do you think this bloody theater will end… Parn?”

“Get out of here! Go away and leave me alone!”

He watched tensely as Karla disappeared, evaporating into nothing before him. The window shut, and the room returned to its usual temperature, only slightly cooler than normal. Parn waited a few moments for his racing heart to settle. Then he threw the covers aside, jumping out of bed and throwing his clothes on. Grabbing his boots, he scampered across the floors in stockinged feet, ending up in the common room where he started buckling his armor.

“What are you doing up so late?”

It was Deed. Parn turned to face her. She was glaring at him.

“We have to go to Marmo and stop Wagnard,” he said.

“And you were going to go there on your own? Without telling anyone?” She pinched her brow between her fingers with a sigh. “You never learn.”

“The sooner I get there, the sooner I can focus on saving Wood!”

“I know!” she cried. “I know.” Her voice was trembling. “But don’t you think Slayn and Etoh would want to come along?”

Parn stopped mid-buckle and lowered his hands. “I know.”

“I know how upset you are, because I am, too.” She walked over to him, setting her hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re losing sleep over it.”

“Because you are, too?” he asked hopefully, meeting her eyes.

She nodded, her features drawn with sorrow.

“Deed…” he started, but she shook her head.

“We can’t talk about it now. You need to rest. Tomorrow will be another day.”

“It can’t wait!” he blurted. “Karla. Karla was here! Talking to me! What if she’s—” Deed’s eyes went wider than the full moon as dread filled his chest. “What if she came to Ashram, too?”

“No!”

Parn bolted to his feet. He rushed into the hallway, and Deed followed behind. In front of the door to Ashram’s room, one of the guards was missing, and the other was unconscious. Deed stooped to check if he was breathing, but Parn wasn’t going to waste any time. He backed up until he stood against the opposite wall. Then, taking a deep breath in, he sprinted forward and rammed into the door, busting it down with his unarmored shoulder.

Ashram was standing up, his hands and feet untied. Parn heard the ring of keys jingling in his hand before he saw the silver gleam of Deed’s will-o’-wisp reflecting on the ring’s surface. Parn raced ahead and shoved him hard, knocking him down and pinning him to the floor.

“Deed! Get King Kashue!” he called over his shoulder. He faced Ashram, glaring at him. “I knew it! You’re working with Karla!”

“Karla?” Ashram growled. “I know nothing of Karla. I assumed her to be dead.”

He easily resisted Parn and turned him over so that he was the one on his back. But Parn didn’t give in, locking his hands with Ashram’s to resist being pinned.

 “Liar!” Parn spat, pushing back against Ashram’s hands. He tried flailing his legs, attempting to kick. Ashram shifted his weight until he was straddling Parn’s thighs, making it impossible for him to land a hit. “You were working with her all this time. She lied to me, too!”

Ashram’s strength was too overwhelming to resist any longer. He got off of Parn and rolled him over until he was prone, digging one knee into his back and pressing his head against the hard stone floor.

“That witch tricked Emperor Beld,” he snarled. “Why would she work with us now?”

“Tricked—you?” Parn wheezed, short of breath. “Your Majesty! Orson! Shiris! Someone help!”

Ashram shoved Parn’s head harder into the ground, his cheek rubbing painfully against the cold, hard stone.

“She’s the one who killed Emperor Beld!”

Before Parn could ask what he meant, Kashue came roaring in and flung his entire body weight at Ashram. Ashram’s back hit the wooden bed frame with a loud thud, and he gasped like he had gotten the wind knocked out of him, clutching his stomach and coughing until he started hacking. Kashue held him firmly in place while the guard standing beside him shackled Ashram’s hands and feet. Ashram glared at him and pushed the strands of black hair that had gotten caught in his mouth out with his tongue, as if he was spitting at him.

“Karla is your real enemy,” Ashram said. “Do not target me.”

“Do not listen to this fiend!” Kashue barked. “What did you do to the guards? If it was not Karla, then who was it?”

“Who else would have been capable of doing something like this? How would I have ordered this attack?”

“Be truthful!”

“I am being truthful!” Ashram spat. “She did it of her own accord. It was not me!”

“Oh, really? How do I know it wasn’t Wagnard?”

“I would not order Wagnard to do anything. He works on his own!”

Ashram bit his tongue. He must have said too much. Kashue drew back his shoulders, a triumphant expression on his face, and folded his arms.

“So that’s how it is,” Kashue said. “Regardless of who committed this attack, this is the second time you have attempted to kill my subjects—and my allies—while in my custody. My tolerance for such actions is severely limited. Had you not given me such useful information, you would be dead. You should value your life more, Emperor Ashram. Why else would Beld and Pirotess have died for your cause?”

Ashram shut his eyes, lowering his head. “Don’t speak her name. I despise you and your mercenary spies.”

Parn’s heart was fluttering in his throat, his head spinning. His stomach wouldn’t stop cramping. His mouth started watering, and he retched, turning away and throwing up on the floor.

“Weak,” Ashram muttered, and it stung Parn’s ears.

He tried to keep listening to the conversation, but Deed and someone else helped him to his feet and out of the room. He heard a deep, gently murmuring voice, which had to be Orson. Deed wiped the tears from his cheeks with a handkerchief, while Orson sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, a looming, calming presence.

Now that Parn had a name to Ashram’s suffering, he couldn’t stop shaking. Pirotess. Pirotess. Pirotess. That poor woman’s name kept ringing in his head. The way King Kashue had suddenly turned ruthless, the way he’d used Ashram’s pain against him, wouldn’t stop haunting him.

He still admired King Kashue, still looked up to him. But Kashue hated Ashram. Kashue would never forgive Ashram. And Parn hated that it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for Kashue. Why couldn’t he just forget Ashram’s pain? But he knew why. And the answer was in the offer that Karla had made him.

“Free Ashram and you will know where to find me,” he repeated.

“What do you mean, Parn?” Deed said, gingerly rubbing his back. Beginning to come back to reality, Parn saw Shiris sitting in front of the three of them, perched on the table and wringing her hands in her lap.

“Karla came to me and made me an offer,” he said. “Karla, the Grey Witch who captured one of my companions and killed another, wanted me to cooperate with her.”

“You turned her down, right?” Shiris asked, furrowing her brow.

“I’ll never do what she wants me to. But… I’m starting to think it’s not such a bad idea…”

Where is your conviction? King Kashue had asked him. Where is your bravery?

“If you let him go, you’ll still have to hunt him down,” Shiris said. “You captured him, Parn. It should be your decision.”

“Who is more dangerous?” Orson mused. “The Grey Witch, Karla… the mysterious wizard, Wagnard… or the Black Knight, Ashram?”

“It’s all up to you,” Deed said.

Parn thought for a moment, the fog beginning to clear from his mind. Then he nodded.

“I’ve decided,” he said.

—

The next morning, Parn woke at dawn. His throat didn’t ache nearly as much, though it was tight with nausea. He quickly got dressed and suited up and met Orson outside Ashram’s door.

Ashram had been carried to bed last night. His hair was still a tangled mess, and he lay motionless on his side. When Parn and Orson opened the door, Ashram’s eyes shot open as if he had never been asleep in the first place. Gradually, he drew himself to sit up.

Steeling himself, Parn walked as calmly as he could manage toward Ashram, meeting his eyes the whole time. Ashram locked eyes with him, and Parn didn’t look away, despite the shiver that ran down his spine. He kept walking until he stood right in front of Ashram.

Then he carefully unlocked the shackles binding Ashram’s wrists, letting them hit the bed with a thump. Ashram lifted his head and met his eyes again. Parn restrained the violent urge that still arose in his chest when he looked into those narrow eyes, and knelt to unlock the other pair of shackles.

“Stand up, Ashram,” Parn said. “You’ve given us everything we need to know. You are now a free man.”

Ashram eyed Parn suspiciously, but he got to his feet and walked over to the armor stand in the corner. He stood and looked thoughtfully at it for a moment.

“She used to help me into my armor.”

“Pirotess?” Parn asked in a small voice.

Ashram turned to face him. “Take care you do not lose that which you wish to hold onto.”

“Never,” Parn said. “I’ve lost too much already.”

Ashram sniffed, slowly buckling himself into his armor. When he had finished, Orson offered him the Demon Sword in its sheath. Ashram accepted it and headed for the door.

“Farewell, Parn. May we meet again on the battlefield.”

Parn watched as he took off, practically leaping down the stairs. Dread coursed through him as he realized how much he was going to have to explain to King Kashue after this had happened. Would Kashue ever forgive him?

“Don’t worry,” Orson said, as if he had read Parn’s mind. “He never stays mad at you for long.”

Parn smiled, bowing his head bashfully. He knew it was true.

—

“You let him go,” King Kashue said in a deadpan tone, his eyes wide.

“That’s right, sire. And I stand by my decision.” Parn lifted his head. “I’m going to Marmo to confront Wagnard. And if Ashram decides to stand in my way…” He swallowed. “If I have no other choice, I’ll confront him.”

Kashue lowered his head. Parn couldn’t decipher the expression on his face, and for a moment, he feared another outburst.

But instead, Kashue smiled, wider than he ever had until it reached his eyes.

“Do not ever believe that I am not proud of how you have matured,” he began. “I may not agree with your choice. But I am pleased that you have finally found your own path.”

“Ashram… helped me. He helped me remember what’s important to me.” Parn raised his fists. “If that Wagnard is going to try to kidnap Deed again, I have to stop him. I need to protect the people I care about. I need to protect everyone. I need to protect all of Lodoss!”

“Spoken like a true knight.” King Kashue nodded approvingly, and Parn blushed, warmed from the inside out by Kashue’s approval.

“Th-There’s just one thing I was wondering,” Parn mumbled, shyly averting his eyes.

“Which is?”

“Ashram had a mentor he looked up to. I want to be… like you…” Parn mashed his lips together, instantly embarrassed by his confession. “Is there anyone you looked up to?”

Kashue chuckled. “Some things are better left a mystery. Don’t you have a place to be, young hero?”

Parn sighed. He was overjoyed enough that King Kashue was proud of him. There was no need to try to get him to talk about himself. That would be a project for later, perhaps when all of this was over, when he knew Deed, Wood, and the others would finally be safe and they would no longer have to worry about the Marmo. He hoped he wouldn’t have to confront Ashram along the way, but at the same time, he knew it was his fate.

Take care you do not lose that which you wish to hold onto.

“I’ll never lose to Ashram!” Parn shouted confidently, pumping his fists to the sky.