No one dared challenge the validity of the taciturn Herald's threat. The sense of martyrdom the crowd had flaunted earlier dissipated before the Sigiled's overbearing might.
Eldric, too, was in no condition to make any more reckless decisions. In hindsight, it was fortunate that Corvyn had stepped in when he did. Eldric was completely drained of Ether, the last of it fueling his passive ability near the end. Had he entered the Garrison's moving manor in that state, he would've been thoroughly screwed.
'I really lost my head there...'
The thought of gaining any insight into how to return home had clearly clouded his judgment, keeping him from properly assessing the situation. Still, he hadn't come out empty-handed. Learning that the Sigiled's fortress wasn't immune to his phasing ability was a boon in itself. Now he could plan around it, and the gears in his head were already beginning to turn.
The streets had quieted. The worst of the protesters were injured by the Herald's invisible sonic boom, while the rest were either tending to them or too shaken by the effortless devastation to make any more rash decisions.
Even now, Eldric couldn't grasp what had caused the sudden unrest. "Did the Garrison do something during their stay in Sickle?"
He dismissed the thought. 'Probably not. I've been watching them since sunrise...'
The blood on his face stung his eyes, forcing him to wince. "Ah, crap..." He swiped at his eyelids. "There's no way I can go home like this."
And so, he didn't. Instead, he turned right at the crossroad he usually passed on his way back, deciding to stop by the athenaeum. "Rykard'll fix me up."
Fortunately for him, the gallant man never closed up shop so long as the sun still shone. Rykard greeted him with a soft smile that quickly turned to a frown of concern.
"By the gods... Did a Vizard ram into you?"
Eldric laughed. "Not really. I was by the Garrison."
Rykard's eyes glinted with understanding. "Ah, I see. Caught in the middle of the blast, were you?"
Eldric scratched his nose. "You heard already? It's barely been an hour."
His teacher chuckled. "News travels fast when it's about the Sigiled. I heard a Herald himself used his powers to stop the riots. I didn't believe it at first, but if it's enough to make another Sigiled bleed, then it must be true."
A strange silence filled the room as Eldric stared at him.
He eyed the boy's bloodied face for a moment before stumbling to his feet. "Right! Are you hurt anywhere else?"
Eldric smiled faintly. "I'm fine. Just a few bruises. If we could get this whole blood thing sorted out, that'd be great."
Rykard nodded and reached beneath his desk. "I'll get my supplies and patch you up."
Minutes later, he was dabbing Eldric's wounds with a fabric soaked in what looked suspiciously like... urine.
Vizard urine, to be specific.
Eldric winced each time the cloth touched his skin. The familiar sting of disinfectant made his head throb, while the stench nearly made him gag. "Is t-this really the only—Ow!"
Rykard didn't relent. "Yes. I told you. Vizard urine is a disinfectant, and a strong one at that. Nothing else works quite like it."
Eldric begrudgingly sat through the procedure. Unfortunately, his mentor wasn't known for his gentle hands, quite the opposite actually, and the firm pressure made Eldric yelp more than once.
At long last, they were done. For reasons unknown, Rykard had also applied the "medicine" to Eldric's bruises as well. As he put his shirt back on, Eldric rolled his eyes.
'Great. Now I literally smell like horse piss.'
Rykard, however, looked quite pleased. "Come now, don't look so down. As long as you hide those bruises... and take a lengthy shower, Aurel shouldn't suspect a thing!"
Eldric shot him a flat look.
Rykard laughed. "Let's get you home then. I'll come along, I promised the lads I'd go out drinking."
Eldric raised a brow. "You hate drinking."
His mentor smiled. "I do."
They closed up the athenaeum and left for Hargette's inn. Though they walked side by side, Rykard maintained a noticeable distance, occasionally covering his nose.
Eldric sighed. After a moment, he looked at him. "Hey, uncle?"
Rykard turned to him.
"Why did those protestors show up out of nowhere today? Where were they when the Garrison first appeared in the city?"
The gallant man regarded him thoughtfully before replying with a question of his own. "Where did the riot take place? Do you recall?"
"The common district. Why?"
Rykard smiled. "Then who were the people rioting?"
"The people who live there, I suppose. Middle-class commoners."
Eldric's eyes widened. "Whereas before, it was mostly nobles and slum-dwellers..."
Rykard patted his shoulder. "And what's the difference between those you just mentioned and the middle class?"
Eldric thought for a moment. "They're the ones worst affected by the war."
"Exactly." Rykard nodded. "The nobles can shield themselves from the punishment for being an unauthorized Sigiled, while those in the slums lack the education to see the Garrison's blatant inaction. The middle class, though... They have the latter, yet lack the former."
Eldric continued, "So when they saw just how powerful the Garrison really was..."
"They were outraged," Rykard finished with a smirk. "Their sons and daughters are being sent to die in an easily preventable war, all for the whims of the immortal Seraphs who act as kings and queens, while the Garrison stands idly by."
He went on. "Both the slum-born and the middle class are conscripted, but the latter already have stable lives. In the slums, survival is the norm, and living is a luxury. For some, war is an opportunity, a way to come back as heroes. But for the working folk of the common districts, they have too much to lose."
Eldric frowned. "But why don't the Garrison do anything? And wouldn't they have expected something like this?"
Rykard shook his head. "When was the last time you saw the Garrison interact with ordinary people? Of course they didn't expect public opinion to worsen."
He paused, then added, "As for their inaction... people say it stems from when the Garrison was first formed. A vow of neutrality. Not much else is known."
"Huh..." Eldric looked down, deep in thought. 'So the slummers are too dumb to notice, the nobles are too rich to care... and the middle class are the ones left to burn.'
The rest of their walk was filled with lighter conversation.
As they neared the inn, the last traces of sunlight vanished behind the rooftops. From the rickety two-story building ahead came waves of laughter, clinking mugs, and drunken song.
And there, in the dim glow of the street lamps, stood the silhouette of a boy, blade in hand, cutting through the air with quiet determination.
Rykard slowed his pace and bent slightly toward Eldric. "What's he doing?"
Eldric scratched the back of his head. "I don't really know, actually."
At the sound of their voices, Draven halted mid-swing. He wiped sweat from his brow and hurried over, greeting Rykard with his usual polite composure. "Hello, Uncle. It's been a while."
Rykard chuckled, scooping the dark-haired boy up by the arms with ease.
"Look at you! Acting all grown up!"
"Uncle, please—put me down," Draven protested, squirming but still polite. "I don't like this very much."
Eldric couldn't help but snicker. 'That other little termite could learn a thing or two from him.'
Rykard finally set the boy down, brushing the dust from his shoulders. "Well then, I'll head inside. I've got some company waiting."
"I'm coming too," Eldric said. "Got a long day tomorrow."
Rykard raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Draven lingered for a moment, watching them go, then decided to follow. The three disappeared into the warm glow of the inn, the sounds of revelry swallowing the night behind them.