Chương 26: Dining with the Dark Lord

POV: Evelisse Ardentia I had meant to visit my sister sometime this week. I had assumed putting down a freshly spawned Dark Lord would take a few days at most. It had been a few days. And it had only gotten harder; partly his growing strength, his minions, but mostly me; the resolve thinning out and the hesitations. Ywain's Hero ceremony was tomorrow, and based on what he had told me, the next attack would be two days after that. I had to decide whether I would stand with him or step away from it entirely.

So I had come to Eremiah to see my sister, to sort through the tangle in my own head before I had to choose. What I had not planned for, was Milo. How could I? I had not expected the Dark Lord to be with my sister. And now here we were. In my sis' house. We sat across from each other at the dining table. Sis had peeled my coat off the moment we came in, so I was down to my usual gear. I had wanted to keep the coat on. I did not know exactly why.

Maybe just that my hair had come loose under the hood and I felt undone. She was in the kitchen, promising she would make us something good. The quiet stretched thin and uncomfortable, so I fixed my eyes on the embroidered cloth over the table and traced its pattern with my gaze. The last time I had been near Milo, I had suspected his involvement in Shauna's death. We had not parted on good terms.

"So... how have you been?" he asked. We met two days ago. The question was almost funny. I could see he had no more idea than I did on how to do this. I didn't answer.

"Why are you here?" I said instead, low.

"Uh, I was just, helping Lunes—I mean, your sister." His eyes stayed on the table.

"Helping my sister?" As if conjured by the words, sis swept in and set two glasses of water down.

"Right, Milo was my escort!"

"... What?"

"I had a job out in Arkhay. We got jumped by mercenaries on the road, and Milo here knocked the whole lot of them flat." She set a hand on her hip, warming to it.

"And that's not all. He ran off some rowdy adventurers who'd smashed up Mr. Aldric's stall, too." Why would he do any of that? I turned to look at him. He looked away. Sis' eyes moved between us; my confusion, the color creeping up Milo's neck, the way he sat like he wanted to be anywhere else. She slowed, reading the room.

"Something's off with you two," she said.

"Did you have a fight?" Neither of us spoke. Milo's mouth opened, then closed; whatever he had thought to say, he swallowed it. He stood.

"I—I think I'd better go." Sis' hand shot out and closed around his wrist before he had half-risen.

"Absolutely not. I promised you a meal, and you're getting one." He sank back into the chair. Then I felt my sister's gaze land on me.

"Milo. I don't know if she's told you," she said, "but Eve's spent her whole life training. Head down, working, always. In all that time she's made exactly one real friend." She turned to me, and her expression gentled into something I knew too well; the look she had worn since we were children, half tender and half don't you dare argue.

"I don't know when the two of you met, or what's gone sour between you. But you're friends now, as far as I'm concerned. So you'll sort out whatever this tension is, and you'll make up." And with that she breezed back toward the kitchen, leaving the order hanging in the air behind her. Another thick silence settled over us. This couldn't go on. Milo had been helping my sister, helping the people at the inn, for reasons I couldn't fathom. An ulterior motive? His behavior was getting harder to predict by the day.

Maybe this was a chance. To understand him a little better. Yes. To understand him better. To pin down a few things that might help me put myself back together.

"So," we said. At the same instant. A beat.

"You first," we said. Again, together.

"Okay." Also together. Then Milo shut his mouth and waited. I went first, keeping my voice down.

"I'll ask again. Why are you here, Milo? Why help my sister?" I made myself say the rest.

"Are you planning to go after the only family I have left?" His eyes went wide.

"No! Why would I do that?"

"You have every reason to." If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He stared at me, something faltering behind his expression; not anger. Closer to hurt. Like I had reached for the worst version of him without a second thought, and it had landed. That stung, oddly. I half-formed an apology, but before I could shape it, he pressed on.

"R-right. Fair. But I didn't know she was your sister, I swear. I was only sightseeing before she asked for my help. I wasn't even meant to be in Eremiah. I was supposed to be in Arkhay."

"Arkhay? For what?" He let out a slow breath.

"To... spread fear." Of course. Of course he was.

"Evelisse, I've told you. I don't have a choice in this. If I don't, I—" He stopped.

"I'll die." And what was I supposed to do with that? I couldn't tell him it was fine — fine to terrorize, to wreck, to carry people off. Every time we met, we tend to drift towards this topic; the same loop, closing over us again.

"That village," he said.

"What happened to it?"

"You mean Mistros?"

"I don't know the name. The one Shauna came from." My fingers tightened against the edge of the table.

"Nearly half of them died. Ywain, Mel, and I brought the Mantis Beasts down. But by then it was too late." The color drained out of him; his jaw worked once around nothing. He dropped his gaze to the table and held it there. He looked genuinely struck. Is this real? Or another of his…tricks? Ywain's voice surfaced, unbidden. He had said Milo was simply playing at being humane, to trick me. Why are we even doing this? I should be driving him out the door.

"I'm sorry," Milo said.

"... What?"

"I'm sorry." He didn't look up.

"I did take Shauna, yeah. But I meant to bring her back the next morning. I was trying to farm fear without—without anyone dying."

"Milo. It's done." The words came out flatter than I intended.

"Sorry doesn't undo it. I'd know. I spent every night blaming myself for leaving her in that clearing, and it changed nothing." His head came up.

"But you have to believe me. I'm not the one who sent that monster there." He sounded desperate. And I caught myself wondering why; why he'd fight this hard to mend his own image? So that I would not kill him with the Mooncleaver? Except I wasn't the Hero anymore.

"Wait." His brow creased. He was looking at my elbow now.

"Your sigil. It's not glowing." He didn't finish, but I saw the thought catch. He had seen the sigil go purple in his presence before; he knew that was what it was supposed to do, with him this close. And it was doing nothing at all. I grabbed my elbow on reflex, covering it with my palm.

"Did something happen?" he asked, quieter.

"... There's no need for you to know."

"Okay. Sure." A pause.

"But you seem to be more…wary around me today."

"And? Is that strange?" Heat edged into my voice.

"You're the Dark Lord. I shouldn't be sitting here trading words with you at all."

"Right. Yeah." He hesitated.

"But, did douche–I mean, did Ywain say something to you?" I felt my spine straighten.

"Ywain? What does he have to do with anything?"

"I don't know. I just get the feeling he's been... putting things in your head." His hunch was right. But Ywain's words were true. They held together. They made sense.

"He probably told you the Mantis Beast was my fault," Milo went on, careful.

"And that I would become to worse, eventually."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't take a life."

"Your actions have consequences regardless." The reply came too fast.

"Stop talking as though what Ywain said is nonsense. It isn't." The moment it left me, I knew I had given something away. A small, grim understanding settled over his face.

"So he has been saying things to you."

"It doesn't matter." I pushed past it.

"It's the truth, whether he said it or not. You're still spreading dread, fear, terror, and we can't simply overlook that, however small each one looks. And you—" the rest came sharp— "you don't think things through." He went quiet. Milo might dream up some world where he and the Church found a way to coexist. Even granting that every word he'd said was honest, that none of it was a maneuver to win me over, to wring sympathy out of me, that world wasn't real. It couldn't be.

"In any case." I made my voice even.

"I think we're—""Food's up!" Sis swept in with a heaping plate of egg sandwiches; the kind where you fry the egg right into the bread so the whole slice goes golden, then layer ham, lettuce, and tomato between them.

"You're going to love these, Milo. They're Eve's favorite." She put the plate with many sandwiches on the table. She plucked one off the stack and pressed it into my hands. I took it and bit in. The bread was warm and rich, the egg soft, the tomato cutting through it all with a bright little tang. Same as it always was.

"See?" Sis leaned toward Milo, having clearly caught whatever softened in my face.

"Isn't she adorable?"

"Yeah..." Milo said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her grinning. Why would he say that out loud? Heat crept up into my cheeks. I ignored it and bit down harder on the sandwich. Milo took one for himself. The instant he bit in, his eyes went round. Sis propped her chin on her hand, smug.

"I like that face. Go on, tell me what you think."

"It's…incredible! Best thing I've eaten since I arrived in this world!"... What?

"I — I mean this proper world." He barreled on without pause.

"My family had nothing growing up, so getting out to Astrea, working, all of it — felt like stepping into a whole new world, you know?" Family? Working at Astrea? I knew it was all a lie. I had no idea what story Milo had spun for my sister, but it had clearly landed. Sis carried on as though he had said nothing odd at all.

"Wonderful. There's plenty, so eat up." What was I supposed to do here? Throwing Milo out now was off the table; sis would never stand for it. Could I just tell her? He's the Dark Lord. Would she even believe me? or would she laugh and tell me to stop teasing the poor boy? My sigil's not glowing—it no longer will—so there's no reason to believe Milo's the Dark Lord. I kept my head dipped over the food, the sandwich still in both hands, and stole a glance up at Milo. He was doing exactly the same.

I snapped my eyes back down to the plate. Why did I do that? We ate in silence after that. The only sound in the room was the chewing. Sis looked between us, and her brows drew together.

"All right." She set her own sandwich down.

"This isn't happening."

"What?" I said.

"You two still haven't made up." She folded her arms.

"So here's the plan. Soon as we've eaten, the both of you are going to the night market. Get out, have some fun, sort yourselves out."