Chapter Text
Callum flicks through the last pages of his book. Rows upon rows of references and thanks to people who helped the author, but no last insightful notes he'd been hoping for.
Katolis's library is full of books on magic. Enough that in nearly two years since returning home from delivering Zym, Callum still hasn't read them all. With each one he finishes he only has more questions.
The books are dense, yet manage to say little to nothing useful. Callum's finished several that have left him feeling like he's read the exact same information he already knows, phrased slightly differently.
Many of the books, hateful in tone, call Elven magic unnatural and praise dark magic as enlightenment.
It's interesting. But it makes Callum doubt the truth behind anything he reads here. It makes him wonder more about the high mage's tower - Viren's tower - and the dungeon Ezran led him to in such a whirlwind that he's mostly forgotten it.
It's sealed, of course. Viren was presumed dead, and with so many other things to focus on after the battle at the Spire it was best left for another day - several other days.
What if Rayla found him? What if he's killed her like he nearly did on the Spire? Viren was powerful, and if Claudia's with him…
Nausea churns his stomach. It doesn't bear thinking about. He glances back at his book, wonders if Viren kept all the good information for himself in those vast bookshelves. It's about time he brought it up with Ezran.
Bells chime distantly in the city below and Callum jumps as the castle's own join in the tolling.
Ezran's home.
Callum bows with the royal council as Ezran arrives. Change comes fast on Ezran; in just two weeks he looks older again. Callum smiles as he catches his eye, and Ezran breaks away from his guards to fling his arms around him. Callum holds him close. He's missed him. Worried for him.
He's always worried now.
Soren and Corvus nod to him, and Callum waves. Soren's armour is gleaming despite the long trip, routinely polished as usual. But when Soren meets his eyes his smile isn't nearly so flashy, tight with something that has Callum swallowing down worry.
"How was it?" Callum asks as Ezran pulls away.
"Great," Ezran smiles, and then scratches his head as he looks away, addressing Opeli instead, "I'd like a meeting. If you have time?" He looks back at Callum, and it's not unusual for them to debrief after diplomatic trips, but… something isn't sitting quite right, and he guesses he's about to find out what exactly that is.
"Of course, King Ezran," Opeli smiles, and Callum nods, falling in beside Ezran as they head to the council chamber.
"Was everything okay here?" Ezran asks.
"All quiet," Callum nods. "I've been reading about magic, but-" now's a good a time as any. He glances at Ezran, keeping his voice low as they leave the gathered castle staff, "I think all the useful information was kept by Viren."
Ezran hums. "Maybe this has come at a good time then."
Callum raises his brow and Ezran glances at him. "Let's not discuss it here."
Callum falls quiet, itching with curiosity. Soren and Corvus step ahead of them as they reach the chamber, filing into the room first as the rest of Ezran's guards station themselves outside.
"Thanks," Ezran says to them all once they're seated. "I just want to catch you up on what we discussed at the summit," he runs a hand over his chin, his eyes flicking to Callum. "The main subject we discussed at the meeting was concern for the old artefacts, magical -dark- artefacts, that Lord Viren left behind."
Oh.
"The other kingdoms worry it's dangerous, and requested we destroy it."
Oh.
"No!" Callum objects, flying to his feet. "We don't even know what's in there!"
"I know," Ezran holds up a hand. "I argued that we'd investigate it, that… well, you'd investigate it, and make a new decision based on what we find."
Callum sucks in a breath, that information sinks in slow, and he reaches back to find his chair as unsteadiness crawls in with it. What if he does find something bad? Even knowledge of dark magic will be useful for them. Ignoring Viren, Claudia hasn't been seen since the battle. If she's resentful…
Soren clears his throat, "And when it's been sorted, then what?" Callum straightens, realisation smacking him like a brick. Soren glances at him, eyes creasing. "If it's all bad, will we destroy all of it?" Soren presses, like he knows what Callum's been thinking.
"That might be best," Opeli says delicately.
Corvus glances between Callum and Soren, and Callum drops his gaze back to his lap. His fingers digging into his thigh. He doesn't want to think about the horrible things he might uncover going through Viren's old work. The things that could be harmless but for the reminder they'll bring Soren of everything he's lost.
Soren's kept himself busy, throwing himself into rebuilding Katolis's decimated guards, dealing with opposers trying to oust Ezran from the throne. He was dedicated before, but Callum's grown to understand what being Crown Guard really means to Soren. He's devoted. He's going to put his whole life into protecting Ezran, will, has, put his life on the line for Ezran. Just like he did for King Harrow, for Callum, when he shoved him to the floor back then.
Under mountains of work, Soren's kept his grief well disguised. Does Soren want his father's things destroyed? If they destroy them, won't Katolis be at a disadvantage?
"I don't think we should destroy anything," Callum says. "Even dark artefacts."
Ezran purses his lips, but he nods. "Okay. But I'll have to convince the other kingdoms. If you go through it all and make an initial account of what's there, I'll try to get them to reconsider. Anything that seems dangerous we can investigate further afterwards."
Callum nods. "How long do I have?"
Ezran winces, then. "For the proposal that at least some of it is safe to keep? Less than a week."
Callum gapes.
"So, days?" Soren says. "That's impossible. There's heaps of stuff in there."
Callum nods, unable to find words. Why after all this time are the kingdoms pushing so quickly for action?
Ezran waves his hands in a hurry, "You don't have to do everything! Just get a good general picture of what most things are. If most of it's harmless I'm sure the other kingdoms will see the benefit of keeping it. They'll just want anything dangerous declared."
Corvus crosses his arms, nodding. "They pushed a lot on this," he tells Callum, tone distant as he reflects. "But I think if we're open and tell them what we find they'll be less frightened."
Callum takes a breath deep into his chest. He can understand that. Viren's war was… destructive. In more ways than Callum can count.
Less than a week.
"Okay."
He'll make it work.
Ezran smiles, "Let us know if we can help at all. Just focus on this."
Four days, is the official number. Callum will have to start immediately. It's… exciting. Maybe he'll finally find some books that are useful.
Ezran updates them on news from the other kingdoms, and Callum only half listens, wondering about the room and the dungeon hidden behind that portrait.
Soren catches him by the elbow as they leave. It can't be for anything good, not after the agenda of their meeting. But Callum swallows down his hesitation, turning to face him.
"Can-" Soren rocks back on his feet, his voice uncertain, like he's trying hard to find words, like what he'll say will be at Callum's mercy. It makes Callum feel strange. "Can I help you sort through it all?"
Callum blinks. "Are you sure?" He thought Soren would want to ignore whatever came out of this. He rarely mentions Claudia, rarer still his father, letting their names gather as much dust as their old quarters.
Something falters in Soren's expression. "No. No, not really," he runs a hand through his hair. Callum's not sure he believes him.
He shakes his head, "Of course you can." He'd never- It's his family. Soren has to know he wouldn't bar him from them, doesn't he? "I'm going to start now. I need those barricades removed."
Soren sags with something that doesn't quite seem like relief. He nods, "Okay, I'll send some guards to help you - I'm still on duty with Ezran."
Callum tips his head in thanks and heads for the tower, his stomach fluttering. The look on Soren's face is seared into his memory- grateful, and… frightened, almost. It doesn't make sense.
Soren accompanies Ezran from the meeting to the court room, keeping step behind him, scanning the corridors ahead. Guarding is a familiar routine, worn into his soul like a callous on skin. He's glad it's a role he's been allowed to keep. After everything he did.
Ezran offered him a different path in the beginning, if he'd wanted it. Anything, he'd said. What would you like to do?
Something different from the path his father had laid out for him.
But Soren likes his job. He'd already questioned his uses, his interests, what he wanted, when he'd been hunting the princes. Soren's a good fighter, he prides himself on that. And being a crown guard keeps him close to Ezran; close to Callum. He'd needed to hold tight to that- still wants to. They've been the only constants since he's lost- what feels like everything.
They near a corner and Soren wings around Ezran so he's exposed before him, keeping step in a natural turn. Ezran smiles at him, something troubled making it small and weak. He looks away quickly.
Soren frowns, looking ahead again. Ezran will hold court this afternoon for two hours, despite the long journey home. Work will have piled up during his absence, even with Callum handling the day-to-day stuff. Ezran's a king that insists on handling things in person. He invites people into the palace where King Harrow had taken letters, he visits other kingdoms instead of sending ambassadors.
The people will bring all their complaints before him, and Ezran will have to play mediator. And they really do bring all their complaints.
It's exhausting just being in the same room, let along making the decisions. He'd stood guard in King Harrow's courts often enough to know some of Katolis's people don't offer Ezran the same respect. They border on offensive when they address him. Hurling complaints, like Ezran's age makes them more confident - makes them feel like they have more authority in the situation. That they might abuse any naivety a young king could have to puppeteer outcomes, bully him into saying yes - or saying no - to all the wrong things.
Soren hates that.
Ezran handles it well. But he's a kid, and the expression he wears more often than not is tragic when worn by a face that should be carefree with youth.
He'll say something after court. Convince Ezran to come with him to the stables, maybe.
They keep a slow pace, allowing Bait to trail behind them. Esra joins them nearer the courtroom. Falling in on Ezran's other side. "Hi, Esra," Ezran smiles.
"Hey- Hello, Your Majesty," Esra stutters, bending in a quick bow.
She's new. Most of the guards are new. Soren stamps back the rising bitterness of lost friends and nods to her. She's good. Talented with the spear and the sword. Soren likes her energy, but she is young. Like Soren. Like Ezran.
She's not used to formalities, and given how quick she is to speak, she doesn't pause much to consider what's about to roll off her tongue. But Soren kind of likes that. Given the little tilt at the corner of Ezran's mouth, he likes it too.
Ezran's constantly informal. Toeing the line between keeping tradition and doing away with it. He's driving a lot of change for Katolis. Good change. But sticking to customs doesn't always seem to come naturally to him, and Soren sees the way people's lips purse when Ezran falls too far to the side of inappropriate.
Guards wait at their post at the entrance. They open the doors, filing in ahead of Ezran to inspect the room a final time. Several more follow behind them.
Soren's been hard at work with Corvus and the remaining Guard to help restore their forces. Especially since the inside threat Ezran faced. But there still aren't enough of them. Katolis simply doesn't have the population to fill the hole left in their army.
Ezran beckons him over to the throne while they wait. The people will be led in from their queues in the lower castle, another system Ezran hopes to change - to get some sort of prioritisation in place. There's so much to organise, though. And if King Harrow never managed to update such a process, he wonders if Ezran will ever have time.
"Are you okay?" Ezran asks in a small voice, keeping their conversation private.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Soren nods. Then, "Why?"
Ezran looks away, hands rising as he plays with his thumbs. "It's just, I wondered after the meeting if..."
Oh.
Soren leans away, focusing on Katolis's banner hung on the far wall. He's been trying not to think about it.
"It's-" he doesn't know what to say. How does he feel about it? "I don't know," he says, then glances at Ezran. He has that look on his face again. "I'll be fine," Soren smiles. And he will be. He just needs to... process.
Ezran nods and settles back, reading over the notes he's brought. Soren takes the cue to step back to his place a few feet from the throne, and settles into parade rest.
"My Lord," the thousandth visitor begins, and that's so beyond the wrong address Soren's hand itches to lay on his sword. There's something about this man…
Ezran waves him off subtly, allowing it to go uncorrected. He always does. Opeli clears her throat though. "His Majesty, King Ezran," she says firmly.
The man falters, "Ah… My King," he amends. "I wish to present you this petition, signed by the families of those lost to our army. We ask for those deceased to be officially honoured in a memorial ceremony."
Soldiers died often enough on the front lines of Xadia, no memorial was in place for them, other than records kept. Likewise, deaths or presumed deaths from the battle for the Spire had simply been documented.
The layers of paper are handed to a guard, who brings it to Ezran. He flips through, that crease in his brow returning as he pages through the names.
"You're right. Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Ezran says. "We will plan a public space and an opening ceremony to show our gratitude to the lives lost, and to your loss."
"Many of us depended on partners who were soldiers, we also ask for contribution, as we struggle without them."
Soren's brow raises. Families are always paid when a soldier dies. And these people were - Soren saw to it. Their loved ones were no different to any other soldier, except that they followed an illegitimate ruler. But it's too hard to tell who believed the royal family was lost and who just liked his dad's idea of war. Regardless, they followed orders. There wasn't anything special about the battle except the scale. Ezran won't grant this, will he?
Soren breathes a sigh of relief when Ezran objects, in that meek way of his. The man's mouth sets in a line, but he nods and bows, and thanks Ezran.
The rest of the questions are more mundane, but that look stays glued to Ezran's brow. When it's over, Soren sticks to his plan, inviting Ezran to the stables.
"No, that's okay. You go, enjoy your time off duty. I've got some things to take care of."
Soren frowns, "And when are you off duty?"
Ezran smiles at him. It's thin, a poor attempt.
"Come on, you'll think better if you take a break."
Ezran puzzles over it. Soren can see him justifying it, negotiating with himself for it.
"Okay," he agrees tentatively. "Just for a little bit."
Soren beams. A little bit is all he'd hoped for. Ezran will never get to spend the rest of his childhood as a prince, but Soren hopes he can be a happy king. Soren nods at Marcos to trail them, and follows Ezran down to the stables. He talks to Snow while he pats her. And then listens to what she says in return. Soren still finds it a bit weird.
"She says she wants treats."
Soren huffs, "Of course she does."
The sun starts to dip low, the air turning colder. Ezran runs his hands down his arms. "I'd better get back..." he sighs.
Soren nods, "I'm gonna help Callum get started."
If Ezran thinks that's strange, like Callum did, then he doesn't show it. "Okay," he smiles. "This is important to you, right? You can leave your duties. Corvus will have it covered."
"Thanks. I've still got recruits to train, but that would help. The sooner we send a reply to the kingdoms, the better."
They spoke of his dad with such disgust. Soren wondered at times if they knew his son was in the room with them. Dad certainly had no problem parading him and Claudia behind him, like he'd really truly believed he should be king, and by result, Soren his crown prince. Soren's always going to be tied to him and what he did. What Soren did, too.
His father may have stood before Katolis and humiliated Soren's men when they'd had the courage to stand against him. But Soren's the one that stood behind him, and said nothing.
Shame still cuts him fresh, even now.
Ezran nods. "Does he have enough time?" he asks, looking up to the castle.
"We'll get it done," Soren promises. He jogs back up to the castle, it feels good to just let his body work and his feet carry him past everything. But he slows when he gets to the tower. He hasn't been inside since everything fell apart. Dread pools in his boots, making his steps heavy.
He wants to do this. He does.
He just… has to start.
It takes them an hour to remove the barricades and station extra guards around the tower Viren's chambers are in.
Callum paces as he waits. It seems to take forever, a slow crawl that grates against his nerves. He doesn't have much time. If the other kingdoms are so eager for these things to be destroyed, he has to change their minds. Quickly.
He's in over his head. Knowing the Sky arcanum doesn't make him an expert, and he wishes Rayla were here. She'd have comments on everything he finds, he's sure. Maybe insights into what was Dark and what wasn't.
Or… maybe she'd want nothing to do with it. Maybe she'd want it all destroyed and left to the past...
Sometimes, buried deep down in his chest, in a place he never gives voice to, Callum fears he didn't know her very well. Only a few short months of his life. She was honest with him, but… he's sure she still had secrets.
At last, the final piece of the blockade is carried away by Hank and … Callum's not sure who his partner is. They nod to Callum, and he thanks them, stopping short of asking the man's name. He'll probably forget it. Callum feels that familiar squeezing pressure in his chest. He used to know most of the guards' names, before that night…
He shakes the thought away and pushes the doors open. They shriek and stick on their hinges, but he shoves harder and they open. Callum winces at the guards in apology for the noise, and Hank salutes, "We'll get oil, Your Highness." He nods to his partner and leaves.
Callum scratches his cheek, feeling uncomfortable, without a name for why. He steps inside. The air in the tower is stale, dusty from years of isolation. The shelves are still crammed with books, lining the walls of the office. It's huge - it's going to take forever to sort.
Callum coughs as the dust he disturbs sticks in his throat. He'll have to clean everything as well. Callum looks at the girl with her lamb, the red of her dress faded with a coating of dust.
He sighs.
He doesn't want to destroy anything here. Just… catalogue it, keep an eye on the things with dark magic in them. He's certain even that knowledge can help them. Katolis can't walk down the same path twice.
Callum grits his teeth, banishing thoughts that whisper he's in the tomb of a man. He'd better get started.
The musty smell in the room is suffocating, and the need for air outweighs Callum's desire to stay warm. He cracks open the windows, grimacing at the shells of … bees? left clinging to the sill.
The frigid winter air rushes in, and Callum wishes he'd worn his scarf.
He begins with the desk itself - opening drawers, examining ornaments and skimming notes left within. Viren's notes are fascinating. The properties different species of the same moth have on conjured food. Maps and sketches of… something.
Again, he wishes Rayla was here, and for a moment that thought wraps his chest in a vice, freezing him to the core in its grip. She's not.
He sets the sketch aside to a patch of dusty floor he's assigned as later.
Aside from the dust… he's enjoying the work. It's fascinating looking through all the knowledge Viren collected over a lifetime. He's found a rock in Viren's desk that's kept him puzzled, inspecting it for several long minutes, trying to decide if it's something magical or a paperweight.
He jumps when a loud sneeze bounces off the stone walls.
Soren stands at the door, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Ugh," Soren shakes his head like it rattled his brains.
Callum grins, biting back a laugh, "Hi." He glances at the window, eyes widening. He didn't realise it had gotten so late.
"Hi," Soren replies, sniffing as he looks around. "Dusty, isn't it?"
Callum nods, "Sorry it's cold - having the windows open helps." Soren sneezes again. "If you can believe that," he adds.
Soren swipes a finger along the desk as he comes closer, leaving a dark line in the dust that Callum's scared to sweep without something to cover his face.
"I don't understand why he was so power hungry," Soren murmurs.
Callum hesitates. Soren doesn't say anything more, and Callum looks away. He sifts through his thoughts, trying to find an answer that won't just be empty words.
"I think, maybe it's something that dark magic feeds," Callum admits after a moment. "When I did it-" he crosses his arms over his chest. "It made me feel like I was in control - and I wanted more of it."
Soren is quiet. And Callum can't bring himself to look at him. Some wounds still feel fresh between them. There are things they haven't talked about.
"I'm sorry," Callum apologises, again. And Soren shakes his head, like he thinks nothing of it.
"Soren-" Callum says and doesn't know what to follow it with.
Soren traces his finger through the same line in the dust. "I'm glad you and Ezran lived," he says after a heavy pause.
Callum doesn't respond. He doesn't know what he can say.
Soren looks up, locking eyes with Callum, intense and passionate. "I will protect him," he swears, and Callum shakes his head, mute. He knows that. Soren's proved it more than once. "Both of you. I know you don't expect me to, but I expect me to," Soren says.
"Okay," Callum agrees, hoarse. He knew this process would set Soren's mind racing. Callum never had any intention of prying. He didn't expected Soren to want to discuss anything so quickly. Or at all.
Soren smiles, and Callum doesn't know how he does it after that.
Soren turns to look at the bookshelves, changing the subject. "I always found this stuff boring," he says, and his voice falls a little, distant. "Claudia liked it though."
Callum doesn't know what to say.
He clears his throat.
Soren spins back to him, "So, how do you want to organise all over this?" he gestures to the room.
"Um," Callum pauses. "I think we should categorise it all, and then I can report on that. After, I can go through things in more detail."
Soren nods. "Okay, how's this: I'll start on this bookshelf, once it's empty we can assign different spaces for your categories. We'll end up tripping over ourselves otherwise," he says, eyeing the books.
"Sounds good," Callum smiles. "Thanks, Soren. It'll go quicker with your help."
Soren lifts his brow in acknowledgement, reaching back to stretch his shoulders.
Callum picks up the rock again.
"You know that's just a rock, right?" Soren says.
Callum hums, "I was wondering if maybe it was more than that." He spins it. There's an interesting pattern on its underside, like an engraving, but no matter what angle Callum puts it at, it doesn't make any word or shape he recognises.
"No, no. It's just a rock," Soren says, amusement strung through his voice, "Claudia gave it to Dad."
He comes over, his hand warm despite the cold as he turns the rock in Callum's hand. "See, she even tried to write her name on it."
"Oh," Callum says, flushing as he surrenders the rock to Soren.
Soren traces his thumb over the scratches. "We were just kids. She was maybe three -or four- years old."
"You can keep it. Anything like that," Callum offers. "I'll get some crates tomorrow, to help organise stuff. One of them can be for things you'd like to keep."
Soren frowns at the rock. "What about the other kingdoms?"
So, Soren doesn't want everything destroyed. Callum eyes him, "What about them?"
Soren's frown looks like it hurts. "They want to know about everything we have. They're worried Katolis has the power to hurt them again."
"So… we'll catalogue it too. Soren, they're not gonna care about stuff like this."
"I think they might," Soren says quietly, and the hurt lacing his voice spurs Callum to stand, urges him to say… something.
Soren glances at him. "Um, cataloguing, yeah- okay. If the other kingdoms are fine with it I- I'd like that. Keeping it." He looks back to the rock, nods at it, and in the next breath he sets it down on the desk, rolling his neck. "I'll start with this shelf, yeah?"
Callum shuts his mouth, not sure anything he'd say would do good, and nods. With the rock handled he's finished with the desk. He'll dust it properly tomorrow. He joins Soren at the bookshelf and starts to assign piles for the types of books it carries.
Soren hums as they work. It's soothing. Distracting in a gentle way, like it could lull him to sleep, if he let it.
It's late, and Soren's getting tired when he tugs on another book to bring to Callum, and something ticks. "Woah-" he flinches as the entire bookshelf swivels, revealing a stone bowl on a pedestal, and dried sticks, and- Soren groans.
Husks of... cocoons? And dead butterflies litter the alcove.
"Gross," Callum remarks, popping out of nowhere. He crouches closer, examining it in a deep squat. Soren's impressed.
And then he picks it up.
The delicate wings crumble, and Callum gives up, shaking off his hand. "I wonder why he kept these?"
"Uh, magic, obviously," Soren says, suppressing a shudder. "Claudia was always crushing weird bugs."
Callum hums, inspecting the bowl. Something slimy coats the bottom.
"What opened it?"
"A book," Soren replies, crossing his arms.
Callum spins, taking in the room wide eyed. "What other secrets are in here?" Callum muses.
Soren says nothing. Secrets are what he's worried about.
The enclave spins back to its book side, wafting a fresh wave of dust with it. Soren sneezes, and wow that made his chest hurt. He rubs at it absently, pointing out the particular book that's really not a book at all.
Callum makes notes like a kid let loose in a bakery. At the rate he writes, and the size of the room, he'll need a new logbook by tomorrow.
Soren turns back to books, suddenly feeling very tired. Maybe he just needs some fresh air. "I think I need a break," Soren says absently, then blinks, turning to see Callum's reaction as he realises the thought has slipped past his lips.
Callum's not looking at him, and Soren relaxes a little. Maybe he didn't hear him. But then he sneezes again, and it turns into a half-cough, his lungs wheezing.
"Yeah," Callum says, looking up at him with a wince, then glances down at the book again. "Let's call it a night, actually. I think I'm getting a headache."