Broadswords - 35. The Attack

Broadswords

Chapter Thirty-Five
The Attack

There was no sound alerting him to the appearance of his sudden visitor, but Harmon felt the presence of someone within his room. He looked up from his desk, where he had been focused on his daily dose of independent study of the Tarragonian language, to find Birten standing there. "Birten?"

A quick glance at the door confirmed that it remained firmly latched shut. Unless Birten had opened and closed it with extreme deftness, Harmon couldn't be sure that it had been used at all. He stood, flabbergasted. Beside the fact that Birten had appeared as if from nowhere, he hadn't been aware that the squire had returned to Jhirdyr in the first place.

"I'm glad to see your safe return! I've heard around that Daegon returned a few days ago, but I have yet to see him. I was getting concerned about what might have happened to the two of you while in Dorre," he said. Birten made no indication that he was listening to the words he was saying; instead, a mischievous smirk played upon his face and a fire was evident in his eyes.

He did speak up, however. "I find myself face to face with the threat to our very existence," the squire said firmly. And he said it in Tarragonian.

Though Harmon wasn't aware that Birten knew the language, nor the reasoning for his usage of it in the current moment, what he said was the concerning part. Even though he'd only been learning it for just over a fortnight, he was surprised to find himself a quick study. His tutor's immersion techniques didn't hurt, either. Harmon was still nowhere near fluent, but his rigorous studies had taught him enough to understand exactly what Birten had said. "I beg your pardon?" he retorted. He uttered the sentence awkwardly – he still felt a little daft when speaking the foreign tongue, its words not flowing naturally and his accent far from accurate.

Birten's eyes narrowed, and he took a small step toward the prince. Harmon, though feeling slightly threatened in the situation, stood his ground. The squire stared at him accusatorily. "I was told you only spoke the common language, but I see you've got secrets we weren't aware of, enemy."

Thankfully Harmon understood the language better than he spoke it. He wasn't sure of all the words Birten had just said, but one was clear. Enemy. What was going on? Had Elsior somehow turned the dragonslayer and squire against him? It would have seemed farfetched had Harmon not been doing research on Terramancy in between his Tarragonian studies. The book he'd pocketed in the library, though small, was an eye-opener as far as giving him some insight on what Elsior could potentially be involved in.

The book predominantly shared a look into the origins of Terramancy and how its earliest diviners were some of the strongest. They were amongst the first mancers to develop their abilities, being one of the four core elemental mancies. Due to being a landlocked kingdom, Jhirdyr was once a revered locale for Terramancers to practice their art.

That was, until the Dark Collective began. The book didn't do a massive deep-dive into the history of the Dark Collective, and from what Harmon gathered most books probably wouldn't. It appeared to truly be a very tight-lipped organization, and he doubted there was too much literature available to those outside of its members. However, the book did provide enough information to indicate that once the Dark Collective started picking up steam, all forms of mancy were quickly shunned.

Terramancy wasn't shut out quite as fast as some of the others, considering it wasn't one of the first to develop manipulation powers. At the same time, it was still a mancy, and most people didn't want anything to do with it. And some time later, once word got out that Terramancy had been brought into the Collective, even it was something that the majority of the general public turned their noses up at.

The book went on to explain how those that stuck with the practice were oftentimes able to develop their manipulation skills at a rapid pace, given man's natural connection with the elements. The more information Harmon absorbed, the more concerned he felt over what Elsior might have become.

And in the current moment, with Birten acting strange after having presumably been in Elsior's presence for the majority of the time he'd been missing, it was seeming more and more likely to Harmon that something had happened on their quest. He was sure Elsior was up to something, and he didn't take pride in the fact that he'd sent Daegon and Birten on a potential suicide mission.

"Silent treatment, I see," Birten said, and Harmon realized that he'd gotten lost in his thoughts. He stared at the squire. On top of the fact that he was speaking flawless Tarragonian, which seemed odd enough, there was something different amount him. He didn't seem like himself. What had Elsior done?

"I assure you I'm not your enemy. We've never had any issues in the past. I've not gotten to know you, perhaps, as well as I should. But I would consider us friendly, not foes." He was dead sure he'd mispronounced about a quarter of the words, if they were even the right words at all, but Birten seemed to understand his message either way.

"Past? We've never met. What are you playing at, prince?"

Something had happened to Birten, without a doubt. Had he lost his memory? "Of course we've met, we've known of each other for years. We last spoke about a month ago, when I told you of the troubles in Dorre."

Birten's eyes locked with Harmon's, an accusatory expression still tugging at the features of his face. "Your tactics are weak, prince. I've lived on Tarragonia my entire life, I've never set foot on this continent."

Had he been brainwashed? Harmon couldn't come up with another reasonable explanation as to why Birten would be acting this way, as if he had no recollection of anything that had happened in the recent weeks.

"You were just here, and you and Daegon—" Harmon began, but was promptly interrupted.

"Oh, yes, that's a name I'm familiar with. Your co-conspirator." Thankfully, as a member of the royal family, Harmon's tutor had found it beneficial to focus a chunk of their time on words that might apply to foreign affairs. Had he not, Harmon doubted he would have known the last word Birten used in that sentence. Either way, it was not good.

Not only had Birten been turned against Harmon, but it appeared that the same was true of Daegon. And if Birten didn't trust Daegon either, Elsior must have somehow found a way to burrow deep within Birten's subconscious. Harmon couldn't imagine that there would be any other explanation for Birten not trusting Daegon, either.

Then a thought hit him. He was sure he had a dragonslayer ranking list somewhere in his desk. Being a passion of his, he kept up with it and was always updating his files with up-to-date statistics. Maybe if he showed Birten something with his own name on it, something that tied him to Jhirdyr and who he was, just maybe that would trigger something. He had absolutely no idea if something like that would work, but it was worth a try. He started yanking open drawers and rifling through papers, hopeful that he would be able to find one quickly.

But he soon realized that he shouldn't have turned his back to Birten. He had just found what he was looking for and rotated back toward the squire, only to find himself staring at a table clock that was rapidly approaching his skull.

When Harmon came to, he was surprised to find that he hadn't been restrained. After being knocked unconscious, he would have expected that Birten would have attempted to tie him up or strap him to the chair, or something to prevent him from moving. But he hadn't. Instead, he found himself on the floor in the exact spot he'd fallen.

Birten was nearby, sitting on the edge of the bed, a handful of papers in his hands. He noticed Harmon stirring, and placed the papers on the bed. He stood up and made his way toward Harmon. There was a slight hesitation, but he held out his hand in an offer to help Harmon up.

Still beyond confused, Harmon rejected the assistance and stood up on his own. He had a nasty headache, that was certain. But it didn't cloud his feelings on the situation at hand.

Not seeming shaken by the resistance to his gesture, Birten moved his outstretched arm toward the bed, referencing the papers that were scattered there.

"I sense that your Tarragonian is rusty, so I'll speak in the common language. These papers… and the fact that you don't seem to be who I was led to believe you are… I'm beginning to think that I might have been misled."

Caressing his temples with his fingertips, Harmon couldn't help but find himself getting a little snarky. "Whatever gave you that idea?" He knew Birten had just verbalized his reasoning of that exact matter, but he wasn't exactly thrilled about having been knocked out. He didn't often find solace in sarcasm, but the timing seemed appropriate. Birten appeared to have calmed down some, but Harmon certainly wasn't about to let his guard down. He absolutely wasn't going to take his eyes off him again.

"These statistic sheets… they have my name alongside Daegon's. Over and over again, for a number of years. Certainly they could be falsified, an attempt to fool me. But then these other ones…." He picked up a few sheets. "They're not signed, but the way they're worded… I can't say I've had much interaction with the man, but I just know they're from Elsior. The way he talks to you in these letters… it can't be fake. I don't know that there's a good enough actor across all of the continents that could speak to someone in such a way, if they were indeed mortal enemies. I gather there was a relationship there?" Birten made eye contact with Harmon at that point, and Harmon could tell that there was a battle going on inside Birten's head.

He didn't particularly like acknowledging the relationship he'd had with Elsior. Primarily because of the problems it had caused when it had come to light, but even more so now that he believed Elsior was in the midst of some vindictive plot. However, he felt that at this moment, with Birten, he had to be open. "There was. When we were teenagers, we were intimate with one another. It didn't end well, through no fault of our own. I haven't seen him in years, nor has there been any contact aside from those letters. What do you know of Elsior?"

The squire turned away and sighed deeply. "I'm not sure what I know, anymore. I have these memories of my entire life in Tarragonia. My family, my friends. I have memories of Elsior being a confidant, an ally. But they're foggy. I remember fine details, but somehow it's abstract at the same time." He turned again, facing Harmon. "Then I came here. I found you. In my head I knew you were a threat to my people, to my nation. But the things I 'knew' about you weren't matching up. I was told you only spoke the common language… while your Tarragonian isn't phenomenal, it proved that part wrong. These papers, they threw me for a loop too. It started making me second guess everything I was sure I knew. But really, the thing that did me in the most, was that."

Harmon let his eyes follow Birten's pointed finger, and they fell upon the clock that still rested on the carpet. Just looking at it made his headache pulse more. But he had no idea why that, of all things, was what got to Birten. "How so?"

"I don't know," Birten said. A sullenness had overcome him. Though he didn't know the squire especially well, neither his true self nor this bizarre persona, the sudden depression was surely out of place.

Bending down, Harmon fetched the timepiece from the floor. He'd had it for years, having obtained it as a child from an old dragonslayer who had unfortunately since passed. It wasn't necessarily up to standards as a piece of royal décor, but he'd always treasured it as a gift from a real life slayer. Even as a child, he'd been fascinated by them.

It was pretty simple, really, a run-of-the-mill table clock. The only unique feature was that the shape of a dragon was etched around its face. He placed it back on the table where Birten had snatched it from, delicately, though it was probably broken anyway.

"It's a clock," Harmon said lamely, but he didn't know what else to say.

"I understand that," Birten responded. "I don't know why that of all things has me questioning everything I think I know. But there's just something about it that reminds me of something I can't quite remember."

The two stood in silence for a moment, and Harmon no longer felt he was in danger. But he knew Birten was not out of the woods just yet. Something had happened to the squire that would likely require some extensive care to heal. And more than ever, he was convinced that Elsior was at the bottom of all of this.