Edmund isn't a fighter, of that I can be certain; He's a scholar through and through. That's not to say he flails in combat, far from it. I've seen that man face off against monsters and men double, sometimes triple his size, and walk away without so much as a scratch. But he doesn’t fight with the red mist of a berserker or the desperate grit of a common foot soldier. To him, a skirmish is just another complex equation waiting to be solved. He watches the battlefield like it’s a dusty manuscript, anticipating an opponent’s momentum before they even realize they’ve overextended. It’s a cold, terrifying sort of efficiency—the kind that only comes from a mind that sees three moves ahead while everyone else is just trying to breathe.
?Yet, he has his failings, those of which become all the more glaring when he’s met with the truly unexpected. When the variables change too fast for his calculations or a horror emerges that defies every theorem in his library, the scholar in him hesitates. He seeks a logic in the chaos that simply isn’t there, searching for a "why" when the only thing that matters is "how much longer." In those stuttering moments, when the fire flickers and that brilliant mind stalls, he isn't a High Lord; he’s a man caught in a storm without a map. That’s when I stop being his shadow and become his shield, because while Edmund is busy trying to understand the enemy, I’m the only one willing to just kill it.
— A page from the private journal of Cygnus Beryllium
[Alright, boys. Now, what does little old me have the privilege of answering for you?] The monster, Aria, asked with a wide smile. Her posture was relaxed, her head propped up on a clawed hand that made the natural weapons gleam under the chamber’s magelight. Had her restraints allowed it, Edmund suspected her tail would be lazily swaying in a rhythmic arc.
Edmund’s frown deepened as he watched her. It just didn't make sense. The problem wasn't her cockiness; in his decades attending summits, he had faced down his fair share of arrogant prisoners and petulant nobles alike. The problem—the part that was truly throwing him off—was the fact that she was, well, a monster. And a young one at that. From the fragments he had gleaned from her mind during the trek back to Cotel, Aria had been reconstituted as little as a month ago. A month! Even with the high chance of her being a Champion, by any logical metric, she should have been a creature of pure, frantic instinct, desperate to claw her way back to her Master’s side. Yet, she wasn't. By all accounts, she was acting as if she wasn't even imprisoned. Or being threatened, for that matter. The mention of a mind magic dive barely made her twitch. Had she been a year old, he might have been able to believe that she had such a developed sense of self, but as it stood, she should still be behaving like, well, a child. Did she not fully comprehend the danger?
?Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, Edmund thought, outwardly calm, but inwardly he was cursing himself. It isn't like I can actually perform such a spell. As expensive an artifact as his gloves were, he simply didn't have the Skill required to utilize them to their fullest. Not that she needed to know that. He’d have to thank Cygnus later for playing along with the ruse; the threat of a mental probe was a powerful tool, even if it was a hollow one. He adjusted the fit of the black leather, watching the golden runes on the wrists pulse with a rhythmic, soothing light as they facilitated the mental connection. He would just have to hope the monster stayed honest.
?Stroking his beard—a habit he fell into when a lecture turned into an interrogation—Edmund focused his gaze back on the restrained creature.
?[Well, Aria, I'll get straight to the point so as not to waste any more of our time. Please answer honestly, as the consequences of lying are... severe. Who is your Reconstitutor, and what caused you to assist Cygnus? Were you under orders from your Master, or were you acting autonomously?]
?The monster’s expression shifted, a flicker of various emotions crossing her face before she settled into an unnervingly calm, thoughtful mask. It was amazing just how expressive the monster was. She began picking at a patch of dried dirt on her forearm, her claws scraping against her scales with a rhythmic click. Edmund felt a pulse of annoyance; she was clearly dragging her feet, treating his interrogation like a tedious chore. But before he could work himself into a fit, she responded.
?[Sorry about that, I'm sure you know how it is. Dirt chafes something fierce on the ol’ scales,] she sent, flashing him a smile that felt far too apologetic for a creature in her position. [And as for my Master, unfortunately, there isn't much to tell.]
?[What do you mean by that? Surely you can't expect us to accept such an answer?] Edmund's mental voice sharpened. [If you think you can weasel your way out of this—]
?Before he could work himself into a proper academic fervor, the creature waved him down with a casual flick of her wrist, much like one might placate a tantruming child. [Calm yourself, Sir Edmund. Can I call you Sir Edmund? Great, good stuff. Now, I swear to you that I'm doing nothing of the sort. What I mean is that I don't know much about my Master.] When she saw Edmund's jaw tighten, she hurried to explain.
?[See, my Master isn't the benevolent Pet owner I'm sure you've met in the past. From the moment I was reconstituted, I've basically been by myself. I was ordered to train in the tunnels and build up my strength. You know the drill: “Only those who prove themselves shall be worthy to stand by my side,” blah, blah, blah. I've been out there basically since the moment I was created. It's been... tough. Fought a beetle, which sucked. Stabbed me in the tail a lot. Had to sneak by this massive shadow monster—broke my tail, which also sucked. Actually, now that I think about it, I've had a lot of stuff happening to my tail. Huh. Anyway, not important. What is important is that I never learned their name. Hell, I don't even know what he looks like beyond that big ass cloak.]
?Aria’s face took on a strangely somber tone as she finished, her claws continuing to scratch at her arm as if she were lost in the memory of those lonely tunnels.
Edmund watched her with a clinical intensity, noting how her cockiness seemed to thin the longer she spoke. Her narrative, though unorthodox, wasn't entirely without merit. In some of the more remote reaches beyond Cotel’s jurisdiction, certain radical Tamers still clung to a “survival of the fittest” methodology—a doctrine Edmund had moved to aggressively outlaw the moment he rose to the seat of High Lord.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
?To him, the practice was as inefficient as it was abhorrent. A newly reconstituted monster was born with a tether of instinctive loyalty, but this "sink-or-swim" approach often frayed that bond until it snapped entirely. He’d seen the records of the aftermath: monsters returning to their Tamer's side just long enough to wait for a moment of weakness before turning rogue and tearing out the throat that had commanded them. Yet, as plausible as the theory was, Aria was still an anomaly. Even a rogue monster didn’t usually stop to barter with its captors.
Edmund wasn't the only one dissecting the monster's testimony. Beside him, Cygnus shifted his massive, craggy frame, a sharp wince momentarily cracking his stony composure as his bandaged ribs protested the movement. Despite the strain, the Captain pulled himself to his full, imposing height, his silver-veined eyes scrutinizing the creature who had helped save his life. Instead of cowering under his heavy gaze, Aria simply flashed him a small, friendly smile.
?[Well, don't you look chipper, Captain. Seems you took quite the beating! That’s a nasty little side wound you’ve got there; surely that can't be healthy. You really should prioritize rest when you can. Still, I'm glad to see you in one piece. After all, you’re the only reason I’m still breathing,] Aria teased, her mental tone light.
?[As pleasant as your concern is, we have matters to attend to, Aria,] Cygnus rumbled back. The sheer volume of his thoughts made the small monster wince; he wasn't accustomed to the delicate nuances of mind magic, and his mental voice carried all the subtlety of a rockslide. [You claim your Master abandoned you to the mercy of the tunnels. You say you were left to build strength in the dark, yet I’ve seen plenty of rogue monsters in my time—creatures that broke their tethers and reverted to the red mist of instinct. They’re wild, desperate, and usually dead within a week.]
Cygnus stepped closer, his shadow looming over the stone platform. [You? You talk like you’ve spent your life in a library, not a hole in the dirt. If your Master really left you to rot with nothing but a kick in the tail and a ‘good luck,’ then where did you learn such a vocabulary, and not only that, manners? You act like you've been trained for a situation like this.]
The monster didn't answer immediately. Instead, her eyes went glassy for a split second, darting between the two men as if she were tracking a fly that didn't exist. Cygnus felt a prickle of unease; just what exactly was she looking at? He subtly tried to get a look at whatever she might be seeing, but came up empty. Then, the moment shattered, and her face settled back into a mask of placidity.
?[Well, I can assure you I haven't been trained for any of this, as flattering as that accusation is,] Aria sent back, her mental tone softening into something that sounded like genuine hurt. [No... you could say I was born this way. My Master thought I was too ‘confrontational and sarcastic’ when we first met. For the first few days, he tried to... break me, so to speak. It didn't really work—not in the way he wanted, at least. I think that was at least partially the reason he threw me into those tunnels.] This time, the somber weight behind her words didn't immediately bounce back into a joke. She looked down at her clawed hands and wrung them gently, the sharp points clicking together as she seemed to get lost in the bitter static of the memory.
?Edmund was momentarily stunned. It wasn't often he found himself at a loss for words, but the image she painted—of a monster being abused, abandoned, and left to rot in the bowels of the Dungeon simply for the "crime" of being snarky—hit him with the force of a physical blow. If Aria was telling the truth, she was a survivor of the very radical Tamer cells he had spent his career trying to dismantle. He looked at the creature, really looked at her, and saw not a threat, but a victim of a system he had personally outlawed for its cruelty.
Beside him, he could feel Cygnus’s skepticism cooling into a heavy silence. As a long-time advocate for the tightening of Pet laws, the Captain had seen the scars of "broken" monsters before, but never met one that could articulate the pain with such clarity. Yet, even as the air in the room shifted from cold interrogation toward a somber empathy, the veteran warrior and the scholar shared a single, lingering doubt. There was still a piece of the puzzle that refused to fit.
?[Your story is a tragic one, Aria, I will admit. Regardless of the circumstances, you did not deserve the abuse and abandonment you endured. As the man who spearheaded the laws against those radical methods, I apologize on behalf of my kind,] Edmund sent, his mental tone losing its sharp edge and softening into something resembling genuine remorse. He let the apology hang in the cool air before his scholarly instincts reasserted themselves. [However, one discrepancy remains. If your history with sapients is defined by such betrayal, why would you risk everything for Cygnus? Why retrieve his blade and stand against a swarm of the Dungeon's chaff while he faced a Monarch? Why play the shield for a man who, by your own experience, should have been nothing more than another master to fear?]
Edmund watched her intently, his fingers pausing their rhythmic stroking of his beard. He was looking for a crack in the story, but he was also looking for hope. If she had helped Cygnus out of a genuine sense of morality, it would prove his theories that even the most monstrous of monsters were capable of a higher order of empathy. But if it was just another calculated move in her survival, then he was back to square one, facing an intellect far more dangerous than any mindless beast.
Aria lapsed into a heavy silence, her claws emitting a soft, rhythmic tink as she fidgeted against the stone. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at her muzzle. When she finally locked eyes with him, Edmund felt a distinct shiver trace his spine. It was a harrowing thing to see such nakedly human emotion in the golden gaze of a monster; there was a depth of weary history there that defied every textbook he had ever authored on the subject. Was this what it was like to speak with a Champion?
?[The Captain was my only path to survival,] Aria began, her mental voice carrying a hollow resonance. [I've been inhabiting the same caverns as those leeches for some time now, and to put it bluntly, life was a struggle. They were starving me out, killing everything that wandered in, and their numbers were too vast for me to hunt them effectively. The only reason I'm not dead right now is because I started to scavenge from fringe groups. Retreating outside wasn't an option either; the larger monsters in the area would have torn me apart in minutes. Not to mention the packs of Saber Stoats.] Aria balled her fists at the memory, her scales tightening before she pushed through the rest of her story.
?[When your people marched into the cavern, curiosity got the better of me. The only context I had for sapients was the day my Master abandoned me, and for a foolish moment, I thought he might be coming back to reclaim me. By the time I realized my mistake, I was pinned between the leeches and your vanguard. I watched the Captain hold his own against that Monarch, and I realized he was my only winning hand. When he lost his blade, I decided to gamble everything on him. Besides...] She let out a soft, mental huff that sounded almost like a laugh. [There was something undeniably gallant about the way he fought. I didn't want to see a man like that die like a chump.]
With Aria having said her piece, she fell into a watchful silence while the two men stepped a few paces away to discuss her testimony verbally. The sudden shift from the intimate, echoing mental link to the muffled, acoustic sounds of their voices felt like a curtain being drawn. Aria watched them with the detached interest of a spectator at a play, her eyes tracking the way their shadows merged against the far wall.
?“What do you think, Cyg?” Edmund asked, his voice low but carrying in the dry, still air of the chamber. He didn't look back at the platform, instead staring at the rune-etched floor as if the answer were hidden in the stone. “There are still holes, and we’ll have to verify the specifics once we can send a scout back to that cavern. But the story... it holds water. It fits the profile of the fringe cells we’ve been hunting for years.”
?Cygnus let out a heavy, gravelly sigh, his hand resting on his belt near the bandages. “It’s more than just the story, Edmund,” he rumbled, his gaze flicking briefly toward Aria before returning to his friend. “I’ve seen that look before. Not in monsters, but in men who’ve been left in a trench to die by a commander who didn't care to know their names. She’s got the eyes of a survivor, not a saboteur. If she were an Andaris plant, she’d have been more... polished.”
Edmund gave a distracted nod, Cygnus's experience reinforcing his own opinion. He turned back towards the platform, his expression complicated. Only one question remained, after all: what now?
