Ashborn 449: Student As Master

Though Vir wished to return to the Demon Realm as quickly as possible, he owed it to Maiya to at least speak to Riyan and the Order representatives. Showing his face would legitimize Maiya’s claims of his backing—though he doubted anyone would disagree after his display of force.

The Kin’jal army was sent running, all thoughts of invading Kartara abandoned. Andros would rally then, no doubt, yet he would now be forced to tread with caution. And with the Pagan Order bolstering Riyan in the capital, any skirmishes he launched would be repelled with ease. At least, until Vir finished dealing with the Chitran. 

These days, he truly felt that he was juggling one too many realms, and that the question was not whether he’d win his fights—that at least seemed more certain as of late—but rather if he’d drop one of the balls, arriving too late to intervene. Whether by lack of personal power or the inability to be in several places at once, the outcome was the same. 

Governance tasks took so much time that Vir scarcely even had time to think on his own personal growth or solving the mystery of Janak’s chambers as of late.

With luck, things would soon calm, however. Perhaps even enough for him to enjoy some quality time alone with Maiya and chase down those loose ends…

These were his thoughts as Vir entered Kartara’s castle—disguised, of course—and led by a procession comprised of both his Asuras, Maiya, Ira, Ashani, and Riyan’s rebels. It had been quite some time since he’d had to wear face paint, and though rumors were bound to spread of the nature of his army, they would be just that. Rumors. By the time people knew for certain it was demons who’d saved Kartara from Andros, it would be too late for prejudice to influence any outcomes.

At least, that was the hope, and by pretending to appear human, Vir might just forestall that inevitability.

Vir felt comfortable within the tall halls of Kartara’s castle. Like his own after his people ripped off the gaudy gold and silver the Chitran had put up, the design was utilitarian. Beautiful in a functional way, with only enough embellishments to achieve a sense of grandeur and not one bit more.

In the demons’ case, that was mostly because of a lack of wealth, but here, the decision had been very much intentional. Sai boasted a thriving economy, based mostly around the crafting and export of high end arms and armor—at least until Riyan had toppled it—and its coffers were said to be quite full as a result.

Vir suspected only the masked man facing the fire in the corner had that answer.

“So, the whelp returns an adult,” Riyan said, turning to face him. “You’ve changed, Vir.”

Though his words were full of bombast, the look the man gave him was anything unlike before. In it, Vir saw, not condescension and derision, but fear. And did he catch a trace of awe in there?

“I kinda blackmailed him into flying out. He witnessed your display with his own eyes,” Maiya whispered.

Vir barely suppressed a smile. Of course Maiya had arranged for something like that. She’d never allow such an opportunity to go to waste.

“I’m a king now,” Vir replied calmly. “It’d be a wonder if I hadn’t.”

Riyan didn’t immediately reply, giving him a long, hard stare. “How did you gain such power? That… What you did to those Kin’jals… Precious few in this realm could achieve anything even close to it. When I sent you to Daha, you were but a weakling. You were pranascorned and weak—your talents mediocre.”

“Hardly a surprise, considering the nature of my prana,” Vir said with a derisive laugh. “Though, I suppose that never once occurred to you, did it? Did you even think for a second that the problem might not lie in myself, but in your own understanding of prana?”

Had this been years ago, Riyan would have dismissed Vir’s statement outright, admonishing him for speaking that way. Now, however, he remained silent.

“My prana is unlike anyone’s, either in this realm or the demon one. The only beings that share it are Ash Beasts, and I doubt you or anyone else has a training handbook for the likes of them. Well, I suppose that’s not quite true.” Vir glanced at Ashani. “She shares the same prana affinity.”

“It was the only type of prana,” Ashani said, “before the fall of my people. Origin prana, denser and more potent than the diluted variants that are now ubiquitous in the realms.”

Riyan froze at Ashani’s comment, but Vir didn’t give him any time to recover.

“I’m afraid I grew past your knowledge in the weeks after you took us in,” Vir said. “My growth back then was largely due to my own experimentations into the nature of my prana, though I do thank you for your training in the arts of subterfuge. That, perhaps more than anything else you taught, has helped the most over the years.”

“I am glad it served you well,” Riyan said, though whether his words were backed by genuine feeling or sarcasm, Vir couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure he cared. “As fascinating as discussions on prana are, I’ve little time to spare. Let me be clear, Riyan. I do not like you. I detest what you did to Maiya and me. I resent you for putting us in danger. That said, you did save our lives when we would surely have died without you. You took us in, provided us training that has served us ever since. Besides which, that was all so long ago, it feels like a lifetime now. I am willing to support your cause, so long as you are willing to coexist with demonkind in the world that follows.”

Riyan hesitated, his stoic expression faltering for a moment. “Even if I agree, the people of Sai will not.”

“They will, if you will it.” It was not Vir, but Princess Ira who spoke. Vir had wondered how the princess would bounce back from her trauma—having been used to such things, Maiya had recovered far quicker, and Vir had worried the princess might be unable to do the same.

His fears were warranted. Not only did the princess have fire in her eyes, there was now a burning passion that Vir suspected wasn’t there before. It was a feeling he knew well—the desire for revenge.

“When the people see their leaders appoint demons to high positions, when they see their kings and queens intermarry, they will change,” Ira said, her voice even and confident. “Not right away, but with time, I believe the myths between our people can be dispelled. They are just that, after all—myths and stories. It is not as though wars have been waged and blood spilled, after all. Far harder to mend a relationship scarred by centuries of hatred.”

“There will of course be dissenters,” Vir said, thinking of Tia. 

Where was she now? How would she cope with the world to come? Vir thought it a bad idea to leave her to her own devices. The last thing he needed was a Matali insurrection led by the fiery princess, terrorizing demons. Yet she was just one among many bound to disagree with the idea. 

“The path to coexistence will be neither painless nor swift,” Vir said. “Yet the alternative is a war that will consume both realms. Millions dead, and more bereaved. I’ve seen with my own eyes just how deep hatred between two peoples can run—even between countries and clans. Spite that lasts for centuries, claiming countless lives. I refuse to allow that cycle to begin between human and demonkind.”

“These are the terms of your support?” Riyan asked.

“They are.”

“Then there is nothing further to discuss. You’ve made it clear just how powerful you are. Both in personal combat ability and in those who follow you,” Riyan said, glancing at Ashani. “I would not make an enemy of you.”

Vir was a little disappointed that the prospect of becoming enemies was the only reason Riyan had for aligning with his cause, though he supposed it would have to be good enough for now. As much as he wished for the dream of coexistence, he didn’t expect others to feel similarly. Ira’s cause was an experiment. As grand as any of Saunak’s, and Vir would only open the Demon Realm to the humans if the Pagan Order managed to integrate peaceably. He quite literally controlled the gate between them, after all.

“Then we are in agreement. While I do not believe it needs reiteration, Maiya is my queen, and as such, she has my explicit trust and full authority over all of my resources. Treat her words as though they come from me.”

Though her face remained blank, Maiya squeezed Vir’s hand. Hopefully now, fewer people would question her backing.

“What is your goal?” Riyan asked as Vir turned to leave. “When Princess Ira sits upon the throne and demons are no longer persecuted… I cannot believe your ambitions end there. With your power and your support assisting her, she’ll be nothing more than your puppet. As I will be, by allying with her.”

“A reasonable conclusion,” Vir said, “except for one critical flaw in your reasoning. Do you truly believe I wish to conquer the Human Realm?”

His query was met with silence, which prompted Vir to laugh.

“Believe me, managing one realm is headache enough already. No, if there can be fewer wars and more prosperity, that is all I ask. Perhaps one day, there can be trade between our realms, and for that, a peaceful and flourishing realm is in my best interests.”

“You do not wish to lay claim to these lands? With such power…”

Vir’s smile turned bitter. Though it felt improper lecturing someone more than twice his age, the words came naturally. “Power is a fickle thing, Riyan. We’ve both seen what it does to people. to First Rayid, then Andros. You’ve commanded troops, so I’ve no doubt you’re no stranger to this concept. Just, things are different when the only one keeping you in check is yourself. Keep that in mind as you run your new country. There are more important things than conquest.”