Death, Devotion, Dissonance

…

An hour later, Phel was standing near his carriage, making himself presentable. He had just finished fixing his ruffled hair and wiping down the dust accumulated on his glasses and his boots. Satisfied, he dug through his belongings in the carriage, brought out a few mint leaves and started chewing on them.

With nothing else to do, naturally, his mind wandered.

Phel felt that he was good at bringing out the worries in other people. Ever since he's been young, many of his friends, even the older ones would just randomly start talking about their problems, some of them even talking about their traumas and private matters… not the things you'd tell your casual friend.

And Phel would either give them advice if they seemed like they wanted it, or would just sit there and listen if he felt like they just wanted to vent. He did the same with Decatur today. He let the young Earl-ling rant out his feelings for half an hour before striking at the heart of the problem. Granted, there wasn't much progress on that end, and Decatur was still troubled by his mother's words, but at least there was progress.

At least, he was able to drink wine and crack jokes at the end of it. With no one else but him around, Decatur really wasn't the overbearing noble he acted around others. Phel only wished others would see this side of him as often as he did.

But of course, for someone of such high status like Decatur, it simply wasn't possible to act so… simply, for a lack of better word. Phel felt that there were too many expectations that fell on his shoulders. As the future Earl, he had to show the qualities of an excellent leader, whether or not he was someone fit to lead in the first place. Phel felt that Decatur showed those qualities by being authoritative, sure of himself, and imposing. After all, if you acted so confidently in front of others, some would surely find it easier to trust you. It was a pity that Decatur thought that he wasn't allowed to fail anything as that kind of leader.

Phel had many thoughts about Decatur's situation, but of course, they were all just his opinions. Even if Phel felt that these insights would be useful to Decatur, he couldn't just lay them all in front of out of the blue. And it was debatable whether Decatur would take them seriously in the first place.

'Maybe if I write a book about a similar case under a random pen name and make him read it, he'll understand things a bit better?' Phel entertained an idea, but decided against it in the end. 'I'm way too busy to be writing a book. Maybe it would happen five years later when I've graduated from the Academy, but something tells me Dec wouldn't need the book after all that time…'

"Blood and sweat, that was such a tiring meeting," his father was speaking on his side suddenly.

Startled, Phel took a sharp breath, before calming himself, "You walk like a ghost, da."

"No, no. I've walked quite normally. You're simply way too distracted. What do you have on your mind?" Phel's father asked. He then sniffed and creased his eyebrows. "And have you been drinking wine while I was away?"

Phel shook his head and answered truthfully, "I was with Decatur. We shared half a bottle." He then opened the carriage doors for his father, ordered the driver to be on their way and got onto the carriage himself and closed the door. The very next second, the carriage began to move.

"Hmm… I suppose the huge loss he experienced today does warrant a drink or two," his father continued.

"You mean his victory."

"A shallow victory at best… No, not even that – that's too positive of a word to use. He achieved nothing with that fight, in fact, he lost a lot more. He didn't get the tutorship he wanted, he lost the respect of the Barons, he lost a container of Ketricite, and at the end, he wasn't even able to beat up that commoner to his satisfaction," his father summarized while waving his hands. "It's a complete and utter loss."

Phel noticed something off about his father's mood. "What happened during the talk?" he asked, unconsciously taking on the same tone he took when he was trying to calm Decatur or his other friends.

Phel's father looked at him with unusually serious eyes and Phel was sure he was going to brush off the topic with a smile and say 'It's nothing,' like he always did. Well, that was fine as well. It's not like Phel could force people to talk about their problems to him.

"I suppose this matter involves you as well," his father sighed. "There was an order from the king to train more soldiers for the war with the South."

Phel was shocked by the news, "Is the war going so badly for us?"

"We've lost a battle. Three Ketricite reforming factories on the Gray Field fell under the control of the South and is now being protected by an 18000-unit Myrmi division ruled by a 400-unit battalion of Colossi and Griffins."

"So many?" Phel asked, shocked by the amount of people the enemy was willing to spare on three factories.

"Yes, after all, they're the biggest ones we had. The crown is preparing to mount an attack before enemy reinforcements come, but it sounded like the army they've gathered wasn't really enough for the task, so they're expecting… casualties."

"Deaths…"

"Yes. Deaths," his father sighed. "And a huge wake up call for the entire kingdom."

"Can't the Mage King do something about it?"

"You know that even the Mage King isn't so exempt from the effects of the Gray Field. He can't personally go there and do whatever he pleases. He could probably bombard it from afar like the Heavy Mages, but we don't want to lose those factories to our own spells."

"But nothing guarantees that the South wouldn't just burn down the factories themselves if they're threatened, too…"

His father looked at him with a shocked face and smiled, "You really are a smart one, aren't you?" he said, sighing. "Well, even if there are risks that we'd be doing this for nothing, the kingdom still has to do it… At least they wouldn't be in the possession of the enemies. Well, that's not really something we should worry about for now. It's the crown's duty and all we can do is support them to the best of our capabilities. We have other things to discuss."

Phel wondered what was more important than the war with the South.

"Duchess Klavd also expressed the need for the nobles to prioritize the war with the Southern Isles when thinking and acting from now on. As you know, in the kingdom, the only truly warlike Duke is the one on the southern border. The duke of the west is much more focused on agriculture, fishing and other internal produces, while the duchess of the east is more focused on maintaining proper relations and trades with the Black Tower and the Eastern Oasis beyond that."

"The northern part of the kingdom has always been in a weird spot where it didn't really have an identity. We couldn't really focus on agriculture too much, due to the colder atmospheres not allowing for most vegetables to grow on our soils; we trade with the North, but as you know, the Northerners like to live in a scattered manner away from each other, rarely settling down in cities or towns… and the only big city they have is their Koidot capital, which is far too distant to maintain proper trade lines; and we can't really focus on training soldiers, because we are simply too far away from the war to really feel what's going on there."

Phel listened to his father speak, and although he knew all this from heart, he didn't disturb him.

"Well, the loss of the factories seemed to switch something in our duchess. We will become a proper militaristic Duchy and we will do our utmost best to support the kingdom's conflict with the South. Countess Carew explains that if the students under the Cosmics tutelage learn how to create portals, then we won't have to worry about the distance to the war at all, and simply use our own portals to reach there."

Phel nodded, wondering if Evin understood the weight of matters that was falling on his shoulders.

"And here's the part I want to talk to you about… The barons have expressed their worries with having Decatur as the heir of Greater Ankelite."

"What?"

"It's not like they've shown an official plea, or something like that. They've just expressed their opinions... but you should know that it's bad enough."

"Why?"

"I told you. The fight today was an absolute loss for Decatur. As the heir of a noble, he can't be squabbling with a commoner like some overgrown child. And even worse, he can't be seen losing during it."