Chapter 8: Featherling

  While the baroness of the house was frantically looking for a healer for Ark, Ark was in the library of the Fey Mansion pouring over the contents of the various books and texts he could find about the world he was now apart of.

  That is, until he found one that stopped him cold in his tracks.

  Standing over a desk with a book about the royal family, Ark’s jaw clenched, his eyes shaking with anger and disbelief as he glared at the image of Roland.

  Roland… The man that had taken his life, stolen him from his world, and killed those he loved. Now he was a king, one with a wife, and three children, one of which was the very body Ark inhabited.

  Ark placed his hand over the picture of his host, a sense of frustration bubbling up within as he compared his current appearance to the photo that had to have been at least five years old judging from Loyd’s size.

  “Fucking hell…” Ark seethed.

  His eyes drifted to the princess and the other sibling, the two white-haired nobles sporting the signature white hair of the Winterfell.

  Everyone had white hair save for the boy who stood with his eyes cast to the side. Even from the photo, Ark could tell the boy was estranged, left out and out of his depth as he stood beside the cluster of nobles.

  Was Loyd a bastard child? Ark frowned, turning a page that began describing something known as the Throne games.

  Questions poured into Ark’s mind as he turned his head to his reflection on a nearby bust of some unknown figure.

  “How the hell did this happen…” Ark muttered before sitting down in the nearby chair, releasing a sigh and a chuckle that contained a hint of madness.

  Ireliex appeared, materializing to stand upon the open book.

  “I assure you, this was not intentional.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ark raised a brow, his voice one of skepticism. “Then explain it to me what this is?”

  The little chick rolled her shoulders before she chirped, “In order to bring our souls back to this realm, I required a compatible host. One that was ripe for our co-habilitation but also possessing of similar desires and motives, the deeper the emotion, and connection to your memories the better the synchronicity. From my estimate, this Loyd boy was wronged deeply and also possessed a desire for… Justice.”

  Ark paused, his gaze shifting from the phoenix to his hands, “Justice huh… Tell me, I keep feeling various emotions when I look at things, is he still inside this body?”

  “No.”

  “How are you sure,” Ark said, turning to Ireliex.

  “Because I witnessed his soul past personally before choosing it.”

  Ark blinked, “You mean you watched him die?”

  “Correct.”

  Ark clenched his jaw, unsure of what to say. On one hand he was furious that the Phoenix could have probably done something to save the boy yet on the other hand…

  He needed this body.

  Ark turned, his eyes looking out the window to where Welkin stood in the mansion’s inner courtyard speaking with two guards and demonstrating sword techniques.

  The man, although wounded and lame, seemed to perform expert slashes with the broadsword in his hand.

  “Fuck,” Ark said, rising to his feet, “I need something to distract me.”

  Closing the book, Ark made his way from the library and towards the courtyard, entering the training yard where the old man raised a brow in surprise before bowing and ordering the others to do the same.

  “”Milord!” The trio said in unison.

  “Welkin, I would like to train with you,” Ark said, much to the old knight's surprise.

  “Train… with me sir?” Welkin asked, observing Ark picking up a wooden training blade.

  “I don't see why not? You're a capable man and I'm in need of exercise,” Ark said.

  “I see…” Welkin said before turning to the pair nearby. “May I perhaps offer one of our new hires to spar with you milord? I fear I do not hold up to the Lord's expectations and the lads could use the training. It would be an honor for you to demonstrate your academy techniques.”

  Ark didn't miss the tone in the knight's voice, something had happened between him and Loyd.

  With a sigh, Ark eyed the two guards equipped in leather and simple iron chest plates.

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  One was a green-haired man with matching green eyes while the other was a red-haired man with brown eyes. They were both young, but each wore the complexion of people who had spent ample time in the sun.

  “Very well,” Ark said, stepping into the nearby sandpit surrounded by flowers.

  “Sain, you're up,” Welkin said, the green-haired man stepping forward with a wooden sword.

  “Milord, thank you for your guidance,” Sain said, striking a balanced stance with the blade held center with the edge pointed at Ark.

  Imperial style?

  Ark narrowed his eyes, readying his blade as he circulated his ki and adopted a low stance, weapon cast out to the side with his chest exposed.

  Welkin observed Ark intently, recognizing the boy's stance as an aggressive style that he was unfamiliar with.

  “Begin!” Welkin said with Ark taking off, blade in hand, his body rocketing forward with explosive speed only to trip and land in the sand.

  “Young Lord!” The trio of soldiers immediately came to Ark's aid, helping the latter up whose body was shaking from the exertion.

  “Shit…” Ark muttered, feeling tired, and hungry, his body ill-equipped to handle all the exertion he'd done throughout the day. “I'm fine, fine! Leave me!”

  Frustration began to set in, but Ark quickly reeled back his emotions and dismissed the others away so he could stumble back into the manor.

  “Milord,” Vermel asked, spotting him limping his way through the hallway. “Do you require assistance?”

  “No, just… Can you get me something to eat?” Ark asked, the woman bowing as he continued off to his room.

  “Well that was quite a show.”

  “Yes, don't remind me,” Ark sighed, stepping into his now neat and tidy room. Besides the furniture that needed to be replaced and the bed tossed out, the room was significantly more habitable. “It was just me being arrogant, even with ki, it looks like I'll have to do this the hard way. Exercise and conditioning…”

  Ark leaned back against the bed, sighing as he contemplated his next actions.

  He had four months to learn everything he could about Ark and change his body around before classes began, atop of which he had to conceal Ireliex and avoid his father.

  Then there was Baroness Fey making missives to call for healers and from the excitement on her face, it wouldn't be long before the royal family were informed of Ark’s “recovery’.

  “If you hunted, you could elevate this body to a higher psychique, even allow me to adopt a more suitable… form,” Ireliex chirped.

  “Which is a swell idea except there's no monsters out here to hunt,” Ark replied, preparing to do push ups.

  “There are a number of humans on this property, many of whom are ow-”

  “Absolutely not. I may want revenge but I'm not killing a bunch of innocents just to get what I want.”

  “Why not?” Ireliex asked, the black chick resting up on his back as his wobbly arms pushed his body off the floor. “Is it not the right of the strong to devour the weak? To make use of lessers?”

  “Maybe… for your kind!” Ark groaned, already feeling an ache reverberate through his joints. “But it's wrong… to kill another man without due cause, let alone for a man to own a man.”

  “Nonsense. From your memories it seems although many of your kind don't wear shackles, you're all slaves.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ark hissed, barely hitting his fifth push up, “How's that?”

  “Money. Power. Vice. Desire. The folly of your species is the drive that compels you to act. You're all slaves to something, although most of your kind never realize it.”

  “I'm not killing innocent people just to improve myself. If I did I'd be no better than Roland!” Ark hissed before falling to the side at his tenth push up.

  It was time for sit ups.

  “Hm. Your desires and actions perplex me.”

  “Yeah, well that's because you aren't human.”

  “Neither are you.”

  Ark stopped cold, “What do you mean?”

  “The strands of our time are tightly bound as one. As you grow in strength, your shell will inevitably change to reflect the soul within.”

  “Are you saying I'm a phoenix?!”

  “Not yet, but given time.”

  Ark frowned, finishing another set of sit ups as a knock on his door sounded and Vermel announced herself.

  “A phoenix with a human consciousness…” Ark scoffed, opening the door.

  “Here you are master,” Vermal said, curtsying before she rolled into the room with a silver cart laden with dishes.r

  “What's all this?” Ark asked, surveying the assortment of soups, meats, fruits, and vegetables.

  “Milord, you did not specify what you would like, so I brought what was available,” Vermel said calmly.

  “This… is too much,” Ark replied while grabbing a chunk of meat with his hand.

  “If you are worried about the quantity, what you don't eat will be given to the serfs and workers,” Vermel explained.

  “I see… very well,” Ark said, already reaching for another chunk of meat now that his hunger kicked in.

  “Wait!” Ark called out, stopping Vermel.

  “Yes milord?”

  “Join me.”

  Vermel blinked, her eyes momentarily widening with fear before she composed herself, “A-as you wish sir.”

  Ark took a step back, walking instead towards his window with his back turned as Vermel sat upon his bed.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Ark said, opening the window curtains to stare at the slaves working the fields and the green-haired man known as Sain speaking to a fieldhand.

  “Uhm…” Vermal let out, hesitating as she tried to piece together words

  “I want to understand the situation with the slaves here. Does the baroness treat you right? What about Sir Welkin and the guards?”

  “Sir?*

  “You see, I was in a bit of an accident, so my memory isn't what it once was… so if you could feel in the blanks for me…” Ark asked, turning to face the woman with his most worried expression.

  “Oh! Oh yes, the guards treat us swell and Lady Fey is all too kind to us!” Vermal exclaimed, seemingly eager to now talk about the Baroness.

  “Really?” Ark said, sitting across from the woman, “Tell me more.”

  ***

  “There are ten guards and five ourseers,” A brigand explained over a crude drawing of the Fey estate's perimeter made in the sand.

  “That's it? No personal men at arms?” Karja asked, tapping the pole of her axe on her shoulder.

  “None besides the old man. The guards themselves seem to be recruited slaves.”

  “Hrn…” Karja pursed her lips, mulling over a plan in her mind. Nine to fifteen plus the old man, then there were the overseers and the baroness herself.

  “We can take em, boss.”

  “You think so? That's good because if you lot couldn't take a bunch of slave hands n ah cripple what use are you lot,” Karja said to an applause of chuckles. “Ain't lads, get ready, I know what we gonna do.”