Chapter 16 Sim
SIM
Dawn broke, pale light spreading over the camp as the others stirred. We prepared to move deeper into the ruins, the air thick with anticipation.
"Everyone ready?" Nim called out.
As we gathered our belongings, I sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Whispers circulated, eyes darting toward me before quickly looking away. Something was amiss.
CG approached, flanked by his mercenaries. His gaze was hard, devoid of the camaraderie he'd feigned before. "We need to talk," he said.
I met his stare evenly. "About?"
"Justice," he replied coldly.
Nim stepped forward. "If there's an issue, we can resolve it peacefully."
CG shook his head. "This doesn't concern you, Kru'h Nim. This is between me and Simrod."
My grip tightened on my weapons. "Whatever you think you know—"
"Don't deny it," he snapped. "I recognize you now. The Red Shadow. The one who slaughtered my tribe mates without mercy."
Gasps rippled through those gathered. Brynn's eyes widened, confusion and alarm flashing across her face.
"Sim?" she whispered.
I didn't look at her. My focus remained on CG. "They were enemies of the Purple Tribe," I said evenly. "I did what was necessary."
"They were freedom fighters," he retorted. "Defending their homes against tyranny."
"Lines blur in war," I replied. "We all have blood on our hands."
"Then you admit it," he growled. "You owe me a blood debt."
Nim stepped between us. "This isn't the time nor place."
CG glared at him. "Stay out of this, or you'll be next."
A low growl rumbled in my chest. "You threaten him, and this ends now."
He smirked. "So be it."
The tension was palpable. Around us, the others formed a loose circle, anticipation and apprehension mingling in their expressions.
Brynn moved to my side. "Sim, don't do this," she pleaded. She looked torn between me and CG whom she might even consider a friend. I could hardly believe CG was one of the survivors of my year long mission to rid the northside of what my parents considered were qhudrils of our society.
I glanced at her, my resolve hardening. "I have to."
She reached for my hand, but I stepped back. "Stay with Nim," I said softly.
Nim placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Trust him," he murmured. He looked at me, speaking to me to end this quickly. Of course, he knew what happened that year, the sufferings and terror I suffered even after my mission was finished.
CG drew his blade, his mercenaries fanning out behind him. "Face me, coward."
I rolled my shoulders, drawing my own blade with a fluid motion. Another point for CG. He chose to use a blade rather than a laser. "If it's a fight you want..."
He lunged without warning, his attack swift but lacking finesse. I parried easily, the clash of terranium metal ringing out. We exchanged blows, but it was clear he was fueled more by anger than skill.
"You're slow," I taunted, dodging another strike.
He snarled, coming at me with renewed fury. I sidestepped, delivering a sharp kick to his side that sent him stumbling.
Around us, the crowd murmured, some shouting encouragement, others calling for restraint.
"Fight like a manasty!" CG spat, regaining his footing.
I smiled grimly. "Very well."
I intensified my assault, moving with calculated precision. Every strike found its mark, every parry deflected his attacks. The training of years, the discipline ingrained in me, surfaced effortlessly.
He faltered, desperation creeping into his movements. "This is for my brothers!" he roared, swinging wildly.
I disarmed him with a swift motion, his blade clattering to the ground. "Yield," I commanded.
"Never," he hissed, reaching for a hidden dagger.
Before he could strike, I caught his wrist, twisting it sharply. He cried out, dropping the weapon.
"It's over," I said firmly.
"Not yet," came a voice from the crowd.
One of his mercenaries stepped forward, Nif, a hulking figure with scars crisscrossing his face. "I challenge you," he declared in his loud voice.
I sighed inwardly. "Do you really want to do this?"
He nodded grimly.
Brynn made to move toward me again, worry etched across her face, but Clit stepped in her path, shaking his head. "He must finish this," he said quietly.
The second fight was more challenging. My opponent was stronger, his attacks more measured. We circled each other, the crowd silent save for the occasional gasp or murmur.
He swung a heavy mace, aiming for my ribs. I dodged, feeling the rush of air as it narrowly missed. Seizing the opening, I delivered a swift kick to his knee, causing him to stagger.
He recovered quickly, charging at me with a roar. What a roar it was. He might be able to defeat me with his voice alone.
I waited until the last moment before dropping to the ground, sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the dirt hard, the impact knocking the wind from him.
I stood over him, blade poised. "Yield," I repeated.
He glared up at me, pride warring with defeat. Slowly, he nodded. "I yield."
Silence enveloped the camp. All eyes were on me, the weight of their gazes heavy.
I noticed the crowd's attention shift as Brynn stood to the side, her eyes wide with what I could only describe as admiration. Even in the tense aftermath of the fights, I couldn't help but catch her whispered words to Nim.
"Did you see how he moved? Like water... but deadly water."
I pretended not to hear, but couldn't suppress the slight smile tugging at my lips. It was... gratifying to have impressed her.
Clit snorted, overhearing her as well. "Who do you think trained the Red Guards?" he said matter-of-factly, jerking a thumb in my direction.
Xy, standing stoically nearby, merely grunted his agreement, his expression as impassive as ever though his eyes held a glimmer of respect.
Brynn's mouth formed a perfect "O" of surprise, and I had to look away to maintain my composure. Perhaps there were some benefits to my past coming to light after all. My beast purred inside me, wanting to impress my mate further.
Gasps and whispers erupted. Eyes shifted between me, Nim, and Clit. It was left unsaid that the original leader of the red guard was killed in the north - by me.
I sheathed my weapons, rolling my shoulders to release the tension. "It's true," I admitted. "I was tasked with forming and training the Red Guards to ensure Nim's safety."
The guards who were with me that year were corrupt, especially the Red Guards and their leader.
Not all, but most were. Part of my mission was to rid those guards, and rid the freedom fighters of their leaders who were using their members in forming a gang.
I set the freedom fighters free, some were now living in Crix's cozy little place by the lake.
It was bloody, I was positive I killed innocents during that year long mission.
The memories flooded back as I stood there—those months hunting down the corrupted Red Guards one by one. Each night, I'd track another traitor who'd sold information or betrayed our tribe. My blade made quick work of them, earning me the name "Red Shadow" for the crimson trails I left behind.
The final night was the worst. I'd cornered the last group of corrupt guards in their hideout, which doubled as a meeting place for the so-called freedom fighters. I didn't hesitate—couldn't afford to. I cut through them methodically, bodies dropping as I moved from room to room.
When I reached their leader—a towering figure with tribal marks of the northern clans—he was waiting. Unlike the others, he knew how to fight. His blade caught me across the face, slicing deep enough to tear away the artificial skin grafts my adopted fathers had applied years ago.
As blood poured down my face, the leader stared in shock. "You're not Nim," he'd whispered, recognizing my true features beneath the reconstruction.
"No," I'd answered, driving my blade through his chest. "I'm the one who protects him."
I'd stumbled from that place, my face half-restored to its original form, no longer the perfect mirror of Nim. It took months of recovery and additional procedures to remake the mask I wore to this day.
But in those bloody moments, my secret had been exposed. I wasn't Nim's twin—I was his engineered guardian, designed to be sacrificed if necessary. I had fulfilled my purpose, but at the cost of knowing I'd likely killed those who might have been innocent alongside the guilty.
So now I'm faced with one of the remnants of my past.
CG's face twisted with confusion and anger. He knew, and his crew knew, what was being unsaid. "You expect us to believe that? The leader of the red guard didn't looked like you!"
Ah, so those who survived to tell the tale knew what happened.
Clit nodded. "I was there. Simrod dedicated himself to the cause, sacrificed much to protect the heir and uphold peace."
Murders of disbelief and awe rippled through the crowd. The narratives they'd held onto were unraveling before their eyes.
Brynn approached cautiously, her gaze searching mine. "Sim?"
I met her eyes, vulnerability creeping in. "There were... things I hoped to leave behind. I didn't want my past to define who I am now."
Nim stepped beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Sim has always acted for the greater good, often at great personal cost."
CG looked between us, his hostility fading into uncertainty. "Then... all those missions..."
It wasn't exactly a secret that I had more missions than Nim. After all, I was the "spare" royal heir.
"Were to prevent greater bloodshed," I finished. "I won't pretend my hands are clean, but I did what I believed was right."
A heavy silence settled. The mercenaries shifted uncomfortably, their convictions shaken.
Finally, CG sighed heavily. "Perhaps we've been misled."
I nodded. "We all have ghosts. But right now, we share a common goal."
CG looked at me for a long time, hoping to find any malice or signs of lies. But he won't find any.
Finally, he extended a tentative hand. "Truce?"
I considered for a moment before clasping his forearm. "Truce."
Relief seemed to ripple through the camp. Conversations resumed, albeit with a new undercurrent of respect.
Brynn took my hand, squeezing gently. "Thank you," she whispered.
I offered a small smile. "For what?"
"For trusting us," she replied.
I glanced at Nim, who gave me an approving nod. The weight on my shoulders felt a little lighter.