Andris

I used to be a hero, Andris thought with great irony as he stared up at the wall that stood between him and the potential keystone of his peaceful future. I used to be a god Incarnate who was fawned over and praised from morning till dusk.

But no. He had to regress back to childhood where he’d been nothing but a scrawny, naive brat with more power than brains, a fear of heights, and the unfortunate task of climbing a thirty-foot wall.

It wasn’t all bad. Regression suited him quite well, really. He’d been able to right a few wrongs and change a few futures with the knowledge and wisdom he’d pulled from his memories. He was able to distance himself from the people who’d used him and grow closer to the ones who’d proven themselves before.

And, perhaps most valuable, he never became the church’s beloved “Saint.” He left that job to his uncle.

But there was one thing he wanted more than anything:

To never, ever live as a “hero” again.

Being Vaendael Incarnate had its perks, but very, very few of them were worth the cost. Arguably none of it had been worth it at all.

Fame? Fortune? Military power? Andris didn't need it.

The emperor and the Church of Vaendael could do what they wanted so long as he was left out of it. He’d rather buy a farm somewhere out in the middle of nowhere and never speak to anyone ever again.

Finding himself reborn after he’d finally managed to die was almost as annoying and he had no intention of repeating any of his former life.

He was half tempted to pack up and leave the moment the memories started flooding back—and he swore he’d never use the name “Alessio” again if he could help it because sharing a name with his father made him want to vomit—but while he was fully confident he could leave the empire to fend for itself in whatever territorial war it wanted to wage with normal people, Andris had not been the only Incarnate on the battlefield.

As such, it was in the kingdom's best interest, and therefore his own, to deal with that particular problem before he settled down.

Andis needed to kill Astus Incarnate and level the playing field.

Astus herself wasn’t a great fighter, but she’d proven herself a smart and capable leader.

He'd hoped the Stag Mothers were just using her as a pretty little figurehead, but no. Even after they’d been taken out, it still took him at least a year to bring Astus down—and mostly because, for some reason, she’d apparently decided to go on holiday and leave most of her army behind when she returned to Avheia.

What a stupid way to win a ten-year war.

Even that was a frustrating affair that had caused more losses than he could ever have anticipated—but it also made him respect her more. Andris had his opinions about her, but the woman could hold her own.

While he would never stop the church and the Emperor from waging war and exploiting people, he could at least prevent the losses caused by Astus’s hands.

He had his knowledge. He had his memories.

The flower-growing, vine-spitting menace to society that she was, Astus was just a sprout at this point. All he needed was to use what he knew to find her and cut the stem of evil before it bloomed.

And then I will run as far and as fast as I possibly can so they don’t somehow find a way to drag me into anything, he thought, still staring at the curtain wall of Avheia. But does this have to start with me climbing a damn wall?

Sighing, Andris convinced himself to stop procrastinating. He pressed his hands against the wall and activated one of the relic rings on his fingers.

The relic pulsed as he pulled on the magic from the carved bone. He didn’t really like using magic that wasn’t fire-based—especially if it wasn't his own mana—but Avheia was far more secure than he thought.

His reconnaissance couldn’t come up with a reason as to why it would be, either. It wasn’t a particularly wealthy village, nor was there anyone particularly important around.

Except for maybe Astus.

But that would be assuming they knew they had Astus in the first place, he thought, beginning what was undoubtedly going to be a long climb.

Twenty years from now, the fact that Astus was an Aeshanian girl born in Avheia was common knowledge, but he’d barely heard a peep since he’d started keeping tabs on the castle. In fact, there were no records of any Aeshanians at all, which was strange considering the castle's origins were Aeshanian.

Whether or not Astus was raised in Avheia, surely she must have had an Aeshanian parent if she, herself, was Aeshanian. He supposed it could have something to do with one of the tribes living on the Crown, or perhaps they used disguising magic like he was doing now, but it would still be a little strange that nothing had been recorded.

No sightings. No territory disputes. No apparent trade.

It either meant the commonly believed knowledge was incorrect and Astus was not born in Avheia, or there was something more to the story.

Ultimately, the only thing he could trust was his own two eyes. The festival gave him two weeks to investigate with the Church’s grace. He’d hoped he’d be able to investigate Inner Avheia without breaking into it, but the only time they were allowed in were the feasting hours on the grand holy days, and for the most part the events offered him little time to break away.

That wasn’t going to get him far—and any success was based on the assumption Astus would be out and about and recognizable.

And so the mighty Vaendael becomes an assassin sneaking around in the night, Andris thought, annoyed as his foot slipped with his concentration. Gods save me if she’s not here after all and this was all for nothing.

I bloody hate heights. Don’t look down, Andris. Do not.

Gazing longingly at the top of the walls, his stomach lurched with regret.

Of course, even if he found her there was the additional question of if his regression was unique to him, or if Astus had her memories, too. He’d used relic magic to disguise himself just in case, but his split concentration was not making climbing the wall any easier.

If she did have her memories, though, Andris felt it safe to assume she would have fled from Avheia long before he’d gotten there.

There was no point or advantage to her remaining there, not when whole armies had anticipated Astus’s coming for years in the borderlands. With her power as proof of her status, she could easily find safety within her own people and steadily grow in power.

But there was also the chance that, like him, she wouldn’t want anything to do with the war. She lost, after all. But also like him, rumors about their power would still run rampant and she wouldn’t be able to hide for long if she were in a populated location.

In either case, he expected Astus to run as soon as her powers were strong enough, and as quick as her legs could take her there.

On the other hand, if she didn’t know who she was and he was somehow in the unique position of being the only Incarnate who retained those memories, then the Astus of this time period was just a harmless girl.

This complicated things.

Sure, he could stop her now and end things before they began, but he wasn’t terribly keen on killing an innocent. And if she wasn’t an innocent, he had the confidence and ability to crush her the moment she stood against him—especially with no army at her back.

Girl or no, innocent or not, he’d trade her life for thousands.

Not worth worrying about until I find her, though, Andris reminded himself. He pulled himself over the parapet with what strength he had left and landed as quietly as he could. Though the gates had high security, they didn’t seem to be manning the battlement for some reason—

Tap, tap, tap!

Footsteps? Andris immediately turned to see a hooded figure running his way. Of fucking course. The moment I decide to break in, they actually have someone on duty!

“Hey!” the person shouted, pointing a short sword at him. A girl? “Who the hells do you think you are?!”

Andris sparked a short flame blade from his fingers. He had no desire to hurt anyone, but he couldn’t afford to get caught. Breaking into a run, he headed at her.

“Shit,” she cursed. “Hey! Intrud—”

Andris swiped at her face. If she shouted for reinforcements, this little adventure of his would be over, and he’d have to start from scratch. She blocked him with her sword, but she struggled under his strength.

Hmmm? Andris thought, eyeing the girl’s sword as it smoked where it met his flames. It was made of wood. What the hell is a guard doing with a wooden sword?

The girl managed to break out from their deadlock before his flame burned completely through, but her sword was practically unusable. Skill allowed her to parry his attacks a few more times, but it was easy to push her back.

Once they were close enough, he sidestepped her, grabbed her by the wrist, and twisted her around, hugging her to his chest. She squirmed against him, trying to break his hold.

“Let me go or I’ll scream,” she said, squirming. The man put his dagger near her throat.

“That’s enough, now. Be quiet,” he told her. Her body shuddered with staggered breaths. “I don’t want to hurt you, but scream, and you die.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not so easy to kill,” the girl ground out.

“Oh? A challenge, then. I’ll be honest, this is not what I expected from Avheia.”

“What did you expect?”

“No one to be on these walls, to be honest.”

“Yet here I am,” she said bitterly.

“Yet here you are,” he replied. He felt her tense under his grip. “I know I’m an intruder and all, but I don’t really want to fight. If you promise to be quiet, I’ll let you—”

A sudden poof sent a burst of powder into his face, causing Andris’s eyes to burn as he fell into a coughing fit.

A flower?! It was a strangely familiar tactic—but not one he expected.

The girl pushed his arm away and twirled around, her hood falling off as she reached for his collar. Gripping him by the neck, she pointed the remains of her wooden short sword at his face.

“I’ll ask again. Who are you, and what do you want in Avheia?” she demanded to know as the tears in Andris’s eyes cleared. He coughed again as he looked at her incredulously.

Then, standing like an idiot, he stared at her in shock. Glaring back at him was a small young woman.

“You aren’t a guard,” Andris said stupidly.

Her crystalline eyes glinted pink and blue as her expression twisted, and her iridescent-white hair shone with bands of pastel rainbows in the starlight.

“So what?” she said. “You’re trespassing. I could kill you right now and no one would care.

“Y-You…?” Andris swallowed as he slowly raised his hands up in the air.

This girl wasn’t the traditional Avheian, and she certainly wasn’t a pure-blood Easarian.

This girl was an Aeshanian—and not just any Aeshanian.

The very first person he’d run into after climbing into Avehia was Astus herself.