Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Although he had no interest in knowing what was happening with Alderian, nor in persuading him to spend more time with Augustine, Elarión kept his promise. With elegance, he descended into the gardens of Alderian’s palace—a massive castle worthy of a human king.
He walked among the magnificent designs of white roses that never perished, and great was his surprise when he spotted Alderian in an open space, training with what appeared to be a mace.
He could not hide his perplexity at the agility of his movements and the lethality in the execution of his attacks.
Since when had Alderian been such a seasoned warrior?
He could have sworn he had always seen him idling around. Alderian had always seemed more like an intellectual type than a physical one, yet there he was, with precise movements like those of the most expert master of war.
Elarión had never seen an A’aruin fight, but the way Alderian combined attack with defense fascinated him: how his strikes used presence on the ground and in the air, and how his wings were like iron shields.
Alderian noticed his presence instantly, just as startled as he was. He interrupted his magnificent execution, dropped his weapon, and approached him.
“This is an unexpected visit,” Alderian said, smiling awkwardly.
“It shouldn’t be so unexpected if you leave the Herald adrift without warning.”
“I’ve never done that,” Alderian said, arching an eyebrow.
“Well, that’s how she feels. Believe me, I didn’t come to see you out of personal interest. For all I care, you can keep doing whatever it is you’re doing—which, by the way, looks interesting and unsettling in equal measure.”
Alderian weighed his options before responding. Finally, he sighed and invited him inside.
“Let’s talk,” he said, heading toward the grand main entrance.
They stepped into a stately chamber on the first floor that, perhaps in a distant era, had been used to receive guests opulently.
In the present, it was a beautifully appointed space with plush armchairs and tables.
Elarión had never been in this wing of the palace before, so he observed everything with curiosity.
“You live in a ridiculously big place,” he said, his tone devoid of mockery. “Haven’t you thought about going down to the city? There are comfortable rooms there, and you can be with more A’aruin if you want company.”
“I’m a solitary person,” Alderian settled, not giving it much consideration.
Elarión didn’t push the matter further.
“Fine, what is happening? How is it that, suddenly, you’re an experienced warrior?” Elarión asked, curious.
Alderian looked him in the eyes, perhaps calculating how much he could safely reveal.
Finally, he responded, “I don’t know how long I’ve been so experienced in the art of combat.
It was just a feeling at first: thinking that my body remembers things that my conscious mind doesn’t…
and, thinking it would be a total failure, I gave myself a chance to experiment.
I’ve used every single weapon in the armory of this castle, and somehow I know how to use every one of them. Isn’t it fascinating?”
Elarión looked at him, stunned.
“You mean you always knew how to fight like this, and you were unaware of it?”
Alderian nodded in silence. “Do you wish to try it? Maybe you know how to fight too and haven’t discovered it yet.”
Elarión laughed openly.
“Forget it. I am a person who loves peace. I could never fight.”
Alderian laughed too.
“Do you want to come with me to see the armory? I’ve found some quite intriguing pieces.”
They entered together. Elarión observed, fascinated, the vast amount of weapons stored in that palace. He had never seen such a formidable collection.
“Elarión,” Alderian called out abruptly. As soon as he turned, Alderian hurled a sword toward him and lunged.
Elarión didn’t know how, but he skillfully caught the sword with his right hand. Its weight felt familiar to him, and his muscles tensed to brandish it and stop the attack with extraordinary precision.
Alderian smiled triumphantly. He attacked again and they were engulfed in a close struggle, where both attacked and defended in equal measure.
Elarión’s heart beat fiercely, with an adrenaline unknown to him.
He lunged at Alderian with a guttural cry, while his wings tightened in preparation to receive an offensive blow.
The impact of Alderian’s attack did not breach him. His wings were formidably resistant.
After several minutes, the encounter ended with a skillful move by Alderian that subdued him and forced him to accept defeat.
Exhausted, he dropped the weapon and looked at his hands, uneasy. What had he just done?
“It seems I’m not the only one with remarkable skills,” Alderian said, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go rest. There’s water in the well.”
“What made you discover this?” he asked, looking at the sword that Alderian held as he walked in front of him.
Alderian stopped without turning around.
“You should know the answer. It was Augustine… or Aldana… or both, in their different manifestations, who made me look for answers outside of conventional explanations. Her anomaly has been my fuel.”
Elarión remained silent, reflective. His racing heart was pounding in his chest.