Rebirth of the Disgraced Noble-Chapter 12: A Pyrrhic Victory

At the same time in a great hall, a figure clad in shining armor stood upon the podium. Hundreds of knights stood before him, their helmets lowered, faces unseen.

The air was heavy—so still that even the wind dared not move, yet his golden cape rippled regardless.

His eyes scanned the crowd before him through the space in his helmet and the knight’s back straightened automatically.

Satisfied, he began:

"Knights of the kingdom of Solstice!"

"We serve till death!"

"Knights of the kingdom of Solstice!"

"The screams of the fallen charge us!"

"Knights of the kingdom of Solstice!"

"Failure is not an option!"

The atmosphere was charged now, the original solemnity replaced by an intense fervor.

"I’m certain your team leaders have already informed you why you stand here today."

His voice dropped.

The clanking of armor from their nods resounded quietly.

"This is strictly a search and retrieval operation, hence why I chose you stealth based warriors."

"Our operation shall begin from the outskirts of the kingdom down to the edge of the Demon continent."

Whispers rippled through the ranks.

"Silence."

The hall quieted.

"I shall personally oversee the operation and ensure that there are no run–ins with any resident of that place."

Sighs of relief left the lips of a few of them at his assurance.

Sharing a few more words and instructions on how the search would go, Ceredic dismissed the troupe.

When the hall emptied, a lone man remained in the shadows—unarmored, smiling as though he had witnessed a private joke.

Cerdic’s expression remained unchanged as he removed his helmet. "What are you doing here?"

Walking over with amusement in his expression, he adjusted his brown robe to avoid contact with the concrete floor.

"How are you, Ceredic? I trust you’re well."

He sat at the edge of the podium as the man approached, his eyes constantly searching him with hidden suspicion.

"I’m doing very well, Baldric. What are you here for?" He repeated.

Sitting next to him relaxedly, Baldric began:

"I heard of the little party you’re having and decided to drop in to see for myself. Turns out I was right, hoohoo."

Cerdic’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "This information was strictly between the Royal guards."

Covering his lips with the edges of the robe, he replied, "Let’s not be naïve here, you have less control of the flow of information as you have over your troops."

"I will not tolerate insults from you."

Ceredic rose sharply, the podium scraping beneath his gauntlet.

"Calm down, head of the Royal guards," he said in a mocking manner.

Ceredic realized that he was playing right into his palms and took a deep breath.

"I will say this for the last time. Tell me why you’re here."

Baldric stared at his Cerdic’s firm eyes and realized he was done with his little mind games.

"You’re no fun." he chuckled, "I’ll keep it simple. I want to be part of this expedition."

Ceredic couldn’t hide his surprise as he interrupted. "For what purpose? We’re only going to retrieve the ring from Sir. Redwyn’s useless son."

Baldric watched him from the corner of his eyes. "Don’t you think I know all of this? I have my own reasons and I can’t leave the capital without good reason, so I’ll need your pitiful group to serve as a cover for me."

Ceredic went silent.

’What could he possibly be planning? He’s up to no good—but can I really say no to this man?’

"Fine. But I’ll need to know what your intentions are—"

"I can’t tell you that. It’s more of a... personal vendetta of mine." He interrupted.

Before Ceredic could counter, he continued. "And if my sources are correct, it might lead you to the thing you’re finding."

Confusion completely filled his Cerdic’s expression at this point.

"How can—"

Baldric leaned in. "I don’t have time for this, Ceredic. Are you going to have me on this trip or not?"

"I have no obligation to cater to your needs." Ceredic argued, reminding him of his position.

"Yet, you have no choice but to."

Silence descended over the hall, their eyes locked on each other’s.

"....I’ll think about it. I have to speak to Sir. Redwyn as well."

Baldric stood up with a little satisfaction at his words.

"I heard this little trip of yours is going to happen in the next week, so I also expect to be informed of your decision in two days."

Cerdic’s expression grew fierce. "I’ll respond to you when I respond to you."

"And I’m saying you’ll get back to me in the next two days"

The air stilled as they locked eyes, the smile never leaving Baldric’s face and anger mixed with frustration flashing in Cerdic’s eyes.

"Until next time, my dear cousin."

"I am not your cousin."

The doors slammed shut.

A chuckle echoed in the hall as he left. "Hoohoo, you’re always my cousin. Wether you like it or not."

Ceredic remained standing long after the doors echoed shut, his fists buried into the concrete podium.

...

...

...

The cabin was deathly silent. Wind brushed against the unfinished structure, drawing low creaks from the warped beams.

Inside, the air felt wrong—heavy, oppressive, as though the space itself recoiled from what lay within.

Two bodies occupied the room. One sat rigid beside the other, who lay unmoving upon a fur-covered bed.

The wooden floor bore the stain of dried blood and sweat, their metallic scent clinging stubbornly to the air. Fresh blood slipped from the seated figure’s nose and lips, yet his eyes remained tightly shut.

Between them, a thick thread of blue energy bridged their foreheads. Its pulses steadied... faltered... then surged again...

’I have made a mistake...’ Kaelthorn reflected as he hovered in a part of Aden’s head.

Kaelthorn’s eyes twitched subtly, his subconscious still locked in battle.

Sixty-seven hours had passed since he embarked on this journey.

One thought eclipsed all others.

If he failed to succeed—or abort—within the next four hours, the backlash would be catastrophic.

His consciousness had already traversed nearly half of Aden’s mind, yet the interference of Resonant energy had proven far more troublesome than anticipated.

False signals lured him astray, while each nerve demanded precise attunement to pass through. Any other being would have long since perished from mental exhaustion alone.

’I made a mistake...’

He hovered within Aden’s mind, doubt gnawing at him.

’I knew that entity would interfere—but manipulating Resonance without being present?’

He paused.

’...Or is he?’

After countless failed attempts and their mounting consequences, Kaelthorn reached a grim realization.

The intelligence guiding the Resonance was not merely reactive.

It was deliberate.

The entity within Aden’s "dream" had orchestrated the clever maneuvers masked as semi-intelligent responses. Kaelthorn was certain of it.

To test his theory, he sent a signal outward, one that translated through his radius:

"Reveal yourself. I will not let this boy suffer further."

Silence.

Only the low hum of the traveling signal remained.

"I know you can hear me."

Still nothing.

His consciousness flickered violently.

"Very well. You’ve forced my hand. This—everything—is on you."

As the transmission ended, Kaelthorn expanded his presence. The surrounding nerves quivered, then yielded as his energy spread, engulfing Aden’s mind like a tightening web.

Within moments, Kaelthorn had taken command of Aden’s mind. Every nerve obeyed him; every subconscious impulse passed through his control.

The location of the traumatizing memory was clear.

He thrust his presence into the center of Aden’s mind, burrowing deep into its hidden recesses.

The turbulence there surged with his intrusion. Every spike, every disintegration and regeneration of nerve pathways intensified under his control.

Tracing the point of highest Resonance concentration, he encased the surrounding nerves in a constricting web of energy, locking the memory in place.

After a brief moment, they disintegrated, dissolving into nothingness.

That section of Aden’s mind grew considerably darker after Kaelthorn withdrew.

His energy relinquished control, allowing Aden’s subconscious to take control.

Kaelthorn opened his eyes, and immediately spat out three mouthfuls of blood.

His eyes shook violently as veins popped from his neck to the centre of his head.

He fell to the floor in a crouching position as he gasped violently.

"It...is...finished.."

Despite his words, no trace of joy or relief touched his eyes.

Staring into the pool of blood, he confronted his own pale, trembling reflection.

Then a voice whispered in his mind, playful yet eerie:

"You never fail to amuse me, Master Kaelthorn..."