4. Morals
Morals
Faren
Mariana? Really?” Faren asked, pacing the woven rug in Oderin’s quarters. “I am deeply grateful for the opportunity, Major, but I must—”
“How well do you know Mariana?” Oderin was leaning against the stone windowsill, arms crossed over his chest. He’d removed his breastplate the moment they entered, hanging it on a rack by the bolted door. It seemed to watch over them now, a third presence in the room.
Faren halted, not wanting his frustrated energy to come across as nervous. “I know her well enough not to trust her.”
Oderin snorted. “Distrust is a given for the Valiant. They’re criminals.”
Disdain was more like it, but Faren didn’t want to offend. One of Oderin’s closest friends was a Valiant Knight, and Faren admired Oderin’s tolerance, his willingness to see the world with subtlety. But Faren found it hard to bring any nuance to his opinion of Mariana.
They’d first met six years ago, at a Unity Ceremony put on at Castle Might.
The celebration was part of a long tradition among the Seven Territories of the Kingdom of Marona, where royals visited neighboring capitals for a week of celebration.
There were games among both territories’ knights, grand feasts for the Lords and their inner circles, matchmaking balls for young nobility, tournaments, parades, and general merriment in the host city.
That year, Fenrir was hosting Lothgaim, and Faren’s family—as members of Lothgaim’s upper crust—were in attendance.
The Haywards were boisterous and adoring, with a fierce loyalty not just to their kin, but the kingdom.
Faren was the third child out of six, with a pensive older brother and four unruly sisters.
He had joined the Mighty of Fenrir to set himself apart, seeking a role where his Lothgaimian connections wouldn’t make him doubt what he had earned.
But he’d missed his family greatly and had been looking forward to showing them what he had accomplished on his own.
No favors, no advantages, just him, proving his worth.
Mariana ruined the reunion.
Per the tenets of their Oath, Valiant Knights spent most of their time patrolling the Western Wood and the surrounding countryside, but occasionally, individuals were summoned to the castle to deliver reports or train new recruits.
The same week as the Unity Ceremony, Mariana had been randomly selected to hail to the castle.
Her arrival had interrupted a feast and quickly escalated into a brawl with one of the other knights.
Faren had entered the fray and ended up covered in squash pie, with a bruised ego and a black eye.
His parents had been embarrassed, his sisters had mocked him mercilessly, and he’d been reprimanded by Lord Haron for contributing to the disturbance.
His subsequent encounters with Mariana were less dramatic, but still disastrous, usually a result of her volatility and Faren stepping in to contain the damage.
The last time they’d run into each other—just a few months ago—she’d willingly allowed a knight infected with monster blood into the heart of Fenrir City.
Then, she’d had the gall to scold Faren when he insisted they dispatch the poor fellow before he succumbed to his affliction and put innocent civilians at risk.
Faren was no stranger to a feral level of recalcitrance—he had four sisters, after all—but Mariana’s lack of respect for the people and realm they both served went too far.
He was prepared to die for his charge—the Mirrors had guaranteed it—and he was determined to make a difference before that day came.
Mariana’s insolence was an affront to his entire life’s purpose.
Yet the part that he found truly unsettling about her was the uncertainty she brought about in himself.
He could not for the life of him understand the code by which she lived, and that made her unpredictable.
Not to mention the fact that she often outmatched him in wit and fortitude.
Faren had a strong sense of right and wrong, of purpose and duty, but for some inexplicable reason, Mariana made him… falter.
“What I said in the throne room was true,” Oderin said, breaking through Faren’s thoughts. “Mariana’s familiarity with Morta is unmatched. I know she can be…difficult at times—”
Faren scoffed.
“—but she will be an asset to you in the Western Wood.”
Faren had read plenty of reports about the Morta—vicious and terrible creatures, which spawned in the cursed geothermal pools outside the ruins of Kelebraim—but he’d never seen one in the flesh.
They might’ve ravaged Yar-on-Gray, but Faren was not a civilian—he was a Mighty Knight, highly trained for battle.
As if reading his thoughts, Oderin added, “The Morta are worse than your worst nightmares.” The look of gravity on his face was at odds with his usual congeniality. “Mariana understands their movement patterns and weaknesses, and her Oath will require her to guide you honorably.”
Faren raised a brow.
“Well, perhaps not honorably.” A knowing smile. “But she probably won’t double-cross you.”
“If you weren’t my Major, I’d question your optimism,” Faren quipped.
Oderin chuckled. “I wouldn’t call it optimism, just a basic understanding of Oaths and instinct.
” He pushed off the windowsill and stood tall; with his blond hair, tan skin, and large frame, Oderin was the picture of Mighty glory.
“Look, Faren. You are an exemplary Mighty Knight. I am glad you submitted your name for this mission and that the Lord took my recommendation. I have faith that you will be able to navigate Mariana’s mercurial nature with dexterity. ”
Faren dipped his chin, both humbled and bolstered by the compliment. “Thank you, Major Farkept.”
Oderin was well loved and respected by the knights in his stead.
His countenance both confident and approachable—as likely to share an ale with you as he was to dole out orders—and while such qualities could undercut the authority of some, they only solidified him as a beloved leader.
There were few who Faren respected as much as Oderin Farkept.
The fact that he’d entrusted Faren with such a delicate mission was an honor. One Faren would not squander.
“There’s another reason I selected Mariana,” Oderin went on. “A second, confidential part of your mission. Have you heard of the Bad Blues?”
Faren’s forehead creased; he shook his head.
“There are numerous factions within the Valiant, designed to share resources and provide protection,” Oderin explained.
“While single knights can often best a victim of a Morta’s bite on their own—a diseased animal, for instance—it’s rare for an individual to hunt and kill a Morta alone.
These alliances act as advanced hunting parties. ”
“And the Bad Blues are one of these?”
A nod. “The most notorious,” Oderin said. “Led by Heris Morvain.”
Faren stiffened. “The man who tried to murder the previous Lord?”
“The very same,” Oderin said. “However, his role in the attempt was never explicitly proven. His execution was decreased to a thirty-year dungeon sentence.”
“Then how did he end up in the Valiant?”
“Not long after Lord Haron ascended into power, sightings of strange creatures in the Western Wood increased, and he created the Valiant to mitigate the problem. Still angry over Heris’s reduced sentence, Lord Haron decided that hunting monsters would be a more fitting punishment and made him one of the first Knights of the Order of the Valiant. ”
“A way to guarantee Heris’s death before he reached freedom,” Faren surmised.
“Yes.” Oderin scratched his jaw. “What Lord Haron did not expect was for Heris to find leverage within the Valiant. To inspire enough unity for the knights to prosper, in their limited way. Are you familiar with how the Valiant are incentivized to carry out their duty?”
“There are rewards for kills. Reduced sentences,” Faren said, unable to hide his contempt. It sickened him to think that criminals serving a sentence were effectively being bribed simply to carry out the sworn duty of their punishment.
“Factions are thus hierarchical,” Oderin said, “where members will actually hold a killing blow for a superior member.”
Faren shook his head, struck by both the organization and the corruption of a system that—in his opinion—was already unearned. “How is that possible?”
“The Oath Ledger of the Valiant catalogues kills, but not the means,” Oderin said. “This allows higher members of these factions to reap more rewards than their subordinates.”
“And Lord Haron lets this happen?”
“Morta kills have increased since the formation of these factions,” Oderin explained. “Lord Haron cares not for the method, only for containing the threat.”
“Monsters are on the rise, are they not? The Lord seemed to imply that the Valiant are failing.”
Oderin went over to a small writing desk and began rifling through papers. He handed Faren a report with a series of names, kills, and locations. “The factions are effective, but not as effective as we believe they could be.”
Faren looked up from the list. “You mean they’re distracted by some other charge?”
“We weren’t sure, at first,” Oderin admitted. “But Heris Morvain’s sentence ended years ago, and he remains in the Order. We initially believed his motivation was monetary, but now…”
Faren waited, alarmed by the grim look on his Major’s face.
“We have reason to believe that the Valiant are planning a rebellion.”
The idea was so preposterous, Faren barked out a laugh. “Have they forgotten they possess Oaths?”
Oderin frowned thoughtfully. “They seek to dissolve their Oaths, actually.”
“Impossible.” Faren searched Oderin’s face. “Isn’t it?”
Oderin took the paper from Faren and set it aside. “It’s not well understood, but we believe they’ve amassed resources in the ruins of Kelebraim-on-Gray, not far from the geothermal pools.”
“You think there’s a pool that can dissolve their Oaths?”
“Nothing so straightforward or disastrous as that, but…” Oderin spread his hands, leaving Faren to fill in the rest.
“You want me to infiltrate their hideout?” Faren guessed.
“I would not send you on such a perilous mission,” Oderin said, sounding almost offended. “No, what I need is for you to gather information.”
“From Mariana?”
“From Mariana.”
“I don’t want to undermine your belief in my talents, but I highly doubt Mariana would share anything pertinent with me—or any Mighty Knight.”
Oderin gave Faren a good-natured smile. “I wouldn’t expect her to.
But the road often softens one’s resolve, and perhaps she might divulge something useful without realizing it.
My hope is that you also might encounter other Valiant Knights and see what you can overhear.
I am not willfully setting you up for failure; I merely wish for you to keep your ear to the ground. ”
“Have you brought any in for questioning? They do have Oaths, after all.”
“Yes.” His tone was stiff. “Unsuccessful.”
“What about your Valiant friend? Idris Togren?”
Oderin pursed his lips. “He’s retired,” he said.
“And not well liked by Heris or the members of his faction. Mariana, on the other hand, is entrenched—and she’s a weak link.
I have reason to believe she’s not necessarily loyal to their cause, but to some sort of threat or promise Heris has made to her. ”
“Is there anything Mariana is loyal to?
Oderin spread his hands invitingly. “My hope is for you to find out.”
“You do realize that your plan rests upon the assumption that Mariana has a soul.”
Oderin laughed. “I hate to say it, but she’s right—you do underestimate her. Not in skill, perhaps, but in the way that she cares.” He rapped his knuckles on Faren’s breastplate. “A hard exterior often begets a vulnerable center.”
With a smirk, Oderin turned and retrieved a scroll from his desk. “Your orders are spelled out clearly here, with requirements for your report.”
Faren offered him a quick nod and tucked the scroll with his orders into his pocket.
“You recall that Mariana was assisting my sister with research this past year?”
“I recall,” Faren replied, hoping Oderin didn’t catch the tightness in his tone.
To Faren’s understanding, Oderin’s sister, Phina Farkept, renowned Adept of the Order of Alchemy, had been working on a cure for creatures bitten by Morta up until a few months ago.
Her research program had been shut down abruptly and without explanation, but Faren guessed it was because she and her team finally concluded that the only cure for infected beings was death.
What he didn’t know was the nature of Mariana’s involvement—nor why such a well-respected alchemist would stoop to working with a criminal.
Mariana might’ve had a knack for hunting monsters, but what did that have to do with healing their victims?
“Phina informed me of your…altercation with Mariana when assessing the risk of one of her associates,” Oderin went on delicately.
Faren grimaced, remembering how the altercation had ended with Faren on his back with Mariana’s boot on his windpipe.
Not his best moment.
“I know you’ve butted heads with Mariana in the past, but I trust my sister’s judgement implicitly,” Oderin continued. “According to her, Mariana is more trustworthy than she seems.”
“May I ask how Adept Farkept came to such a conclusion?” Faren inquired tightly.
Oderin shrugged. “We tend to stay out of each other’s affairs, but her word is as good as mine.”
Faren did not trust anyone’s word as much as Oderin’s, but he was not about to question his Major’s judgement. Instead, he placed a reverent palm on his breastplate, over his heart. “I appreciate this opportunity, Major.”
Oderin smiled almost pityingly. “I’d say you earned it, but I don’t want you to think back on my words three days from now and take offense.
” He clapped Faren on the shoulder, seeing him to the door.
“You have a strong moral compass, Faren. I chose you, in part, because I want you to use it on this mission. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Oderin paused with his hand on the bolt. “You have ambitions within the Mighty, do you not?”
Faren’s heart pounded in his throat. He coughed, then straightened. “I aspire to become a captain.”
Oderin’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Uncover the secrets of the Valiant, Faren, and I’ll submit your name for promotion.”