If Bryant could have burst into flames, he certainly would have. His face bloomed into a deep, agonising crimson that clashed with the earthy tones of his attire.
Wringing his fingers together and nervously fidgeting with the small knife in his hands, he risked a coy, fleeting glance up at his leader.
Roy suddenly felt much older than his years. He was precisely twelve years ahead of the young vassal—measured in solar cycles, not merely the passing of seasons—yet the gulf between their reactions made it feel like a twenty-year difference. It made him feel like an overripe stone fruit, heavy and softening, ready to drop from the branch at the slightest breeze.
"What else would you like to say, Bryant?" Roy asked, the question trailing off into a weary sigh.
"Most of the soldiers are obedient to Warrior Sebas, my lord, but they aren't loyal," Bryant blurted out. "Not as much as he likes to believe. They fear him; they do his bidding for that reason alone. There is no true devotion there, save for the King, of course."
Roy offered no outward reaction to this startling revelation about Sebas; after all, he had known the beastman for a lifetime. He leaned back against the mantle of the fireplace, folding his arms across his broad chest in a pose that looked terribly relaxed. Inside, however, he was a burning with deep fury. A raging storm stirred within him, and it took every ounce of his legendary discipline to keep it contained.
A man of such status should be a protector by nature. Roy held this belief as a core tenet of his soul and had always sought to embody it for the beastkin around him. It was a male's duty to provide. It was a male's duty to solve problems. And it was, sure as heck, a male's duty to protect; especially the young, the inexperienced, the females, and the weak.
From the sound of it, Sebas had abandoned the role of protector to become a destroyer instead.
"Bryant?" Hudson asked, observing his friend's vassal closely for the first time. "Did you actually request this transfer into Roy's ranks?"
A noticeable wheeze had entered Hudson's voice, a rattling sound that made Roy take a quick glance at his friend. The older warrior leaned back into his chair to ease his mounting weariness, rubbing his whiskered jaw while he waited for an answer.
"I did request the move," Bryant answered. "In truth, I held little hope that I would be considered. The list of soldiers begging for admission into Warrior Roy's unit numbered over a thousand. My father was thankfully able to put in a good word for me to the King, and with his request, my name was lifted to the top of the pile. I was very fortunate."
Hudson shook his head, his brow furrowing. "I still do not understand how you managed it, even with the King's blessing. First, you would have had to gain Sebas's permission for the transfer. It is a well-known fact that he isn't fond of granting favours, especially those that might benefit Roy. He has been in competition with Roy since the day they both had their coming-of-age ceremony and completed their first hunt."
Hudson paused to let out a dry chuckle. "I almost pity Sebas. He has always come in second best compared to Roy. I think the constant shadow is making him crazed."
Roy remained focused on Bryant, whose face had turned an even more brilliant shade of red. When the vassal finally realised his lord was staring at him, he blurted out, "My lord, Warrior Sebas is not your friend, nor is he just an acquaintance who pays you no mind. He is consumed by jealousy. You always best him."
"But why did he grant you the transfer, cub?" Hudson prodded, determined to unpick the puzzle. The young soldier was clearly trying very hard to avoid the heart of the matter.
Bryant's gaze dropped to the tips of his feet, his face darkening to a bruised plum colour.
"He didn't see my transfer as a favour to Warrior Roy. The opposite, in fact. Both Nimt and Frod had a good laugh over their lord's 'cunning' decision to let me go. They all believed that I would never be fit for battle... or for the hunt."
"Why would Sebas consider you unfit?" Roy asked. He watched Bryant closely, thinking that if the boy turned any redder, he truly might combust, leaving Roy no choice but to scoop up the crispy soldier and toss him into the river.
Breathing through his nose in a sharp huff, Roy held his patience.
"I'm weak-hearted," Bryant confessed, his voice small. "Warrior Sebas told me that I was not strong-willed enough for his unit. Now you have been told the truth, and Warrior Sebas has been proven correct. My weakness has caused your defeat."
Roy felt a growl vibrating in his chest. "We are not defeated," he snapped. "For the love of the Goddess, put your weapon away. You haven't even begun your training under my hand, and for that reason, I do not find fault in you. If, however, after two seasons under my direction, you should make a similar misjudgment, I shall personally take your throat between my two hands and try to strangle some sense into you. Do you understand?"
Roy's voice had taken on a hard edge. Bryant nodded vigorously, his eyes wide.
"I shall willingly give you my neck if I fail you again," he vowed with dramatic flair. "No other defeat will I—"
"For the love of the Goddess, will you stop calling this minor inconvenience a 'defeat'?" Roy demanded, interrupting the enthusiastic vassal.
"Princess Eris has only delayed me in carrying out my orders from the King. She has not eluded me. When I am ready to leave for the main city of Claw Kingdom, I will go to the Shrine. And I will not have to go inside, Bryant. She will come out to me."
He took a threatening, predatory step towards his second-in-command. "Willingly, I might add. Do you doubt me, Bryant?"
"No, my lord."
"Good." Roy nodded shortly.
He didn't bother to explain how he planned to accomplish such a feat, and Bryant, thankfully, knew better than to ask. The topic was finally, and duly, dismissed.
Soon, however, Roy was forced to move the collection of Princess Eris to the very bottom of his list of priorities. Hudson was far more ill than anyone had realised.
By the following morning, the veteran warrior was burning with a fever that seemed to scorch the very air around his bed.