The Demon Lord And His Hero - Chapter 332

Night time arrived and Altaire made dinner for the both of them. He was, as Syryn discovered, an excellent cook.

The mage had never known that a bowl of seasoned rice could taste so good. Altaire had also served a bowl of clear soup boiled with leafy greens, and a savoury venison dish that had an exotic spicy taste to it.

“I’ve had a lot of time to mull over your story,” Altaire said to him. “In the end, did the bud bloom for you?”

Syryn didn’t know. He hadn’t been in the mood to find out.

“You don’t know?”

“No. It doesn’t matter.” Rowan had made his decision early on. Whether it bloomed or not, the blond had wanted only Syryn.

“I can ask around,” Altaire offered.

“Sounds like you’re more curious about it than I am.”

“I can’t deny it. The fate of the world rests on Eos’ answer.”

Syryn felt his insides squeeze. Rowan had told him they would have to work together to defend themselves from an apocalypse that could end humanity.

“Why do you even believe me?” Syryn asked the man. “I wouldn’t believe me if I were you. It all sounds so far fetched.”

Rebirth, meddling deities, a voice in his head, the boyfriend who killed him, what else was Syryn missing? A white cat that had saved his life.

“It may sound farfetched, but it begins to make some sense if you’ve been paying attention to what’s been going on in the world, Syryn. The demonic attack on Nua is just one of the many incidents that have caused a disturbance amongst the watchers. Your story is the thread that connects what has been a very confusing few years of chaos in the politics of the world.”

He wasn’t smart enough for this. Beyond the sphere of his own influence, Syryn didn’t know much about anything.

“So you’re saying that it makes sense to you?”

“Yes, and you have my gratitude for it. You’ve given me much to think about.”

“So what conclusion have you come to from hearing my story?”

Altaire leaned forward and Syryn followed suit. “Syryn, you are the answer.”

“Okay?” Syryn waited for his companion to say more. He didn’t. “But what’s the question?”

“We won’t know that till you get back your memories.”

Syryn made a sound much like that of a frustrated animal.

“If you don’t know the question then how do you know that I am the answer?”

Altaire placed his hand on the table and motioned for Syryn’s right hand. He held up the up mage’s palm and pointed to the line in the centre.

“It’s like this. Several branched out lines but they all converge at a single point.”

Syryn nodded along. He was starting to get what Altaire meant.

“Tomorrow, we ride at dawn, Syryn.” Altaire released his hand and told him.

“Where are we going?”

The alchemist began to slowly drum his fingers on the table as he thought about Syryn’s question.

“Back to Elysium.”

Syryn spluttered in outrage. “Why?! I came all the way here to put distance between me and Rowan.”

“I know,” Altaire replied. “But for someone like Rowan, distance is a mere inconvenience. He will not be deterred by it. Moreover, I think you shouldn’t run away from him.”

“I refuse to follow you back to Elysium!”

“Then you can stay here and wait for Rowan to find you. I’ll be at Elysium.”

“Rowan won’t come looking for me. He told me so.” Syryn was now clutching at straws.

“Do you realise how foolish you sound?” Altaire asked him. “A man who supposedly murdered you in your past life together, who confessed to it, who you’re running from, and you tell me that you take his word, his assurance, at face value. Make up your mind, Syryn. Do you or do you not trust your Rowan?”

Syryn was silenced by Altaire’s logical rebuttal.

“We ride at dawn, Syryn,” the man repeated. “Now go to sleep.”

____

Syryn spent the night tossing and turning. He wasn’t able to get Altaire’s question out of his mind. Did he or did he not trust Rowan?

He didn’t not trust Rowan but he didn’t trust him either.

“Why?” He asked the moon. “Why can’t I hate Rowan for killing me?”

The mage wallowed in his misery till morning light began to peer through his window. A gentle rapping on his door sounded and he heard Altaire’s light footsteps walk away from the door.

____

The duo took the scenic route rather than travelling through rifts. Altaire had accurately guessed that as much as Syryn wanted his lost memories, he wasn’t yet ready to have it. He couldn’t blame the mage for it because no one would ever be ready to see a different version of himself get killed by the man he had put his faith in.

“Here,” Altaire handed him a flower as they were passing through a forest. It was a pretty blue flower with three petals curling out to reveal a fragrant throat.

“What’s this?”

“A flower.”

Syryn sniffed it and wondered why the senior alchemist had given it to him. Half an hour later, the mage was sleeping soundly on a sleeping mat that Altaire had rolled out for him.

The masked man started a bonfire and read a book while Syryn enjoyed the deepest sleep he’d had in many weeks.

____

“You drugged me,” Syryn accused after waking up and finding himself energised.

“You drugged yourself. I merely handed you a flower to look at.”

Syryn couldn’t refute his argument.

“I think,” he hesitated to say it.

Altaire’s masked face turned up from the pages of his half-finished book.

“I think I’m starting to understand you just a little bit.”

“Bravo,” the senior alchemist dryly replied.

____

“That’s too expensive! I’ll buy it for thirty silvers.”

Syryn and Altaire were passing by a village when a little shop had caught the mage’s attention. The shop was selling animal figurines and he wanted the snow-white cat with blue eyes.

“Thirsty silvers won’t do. Forty silvers, sir. I have to feed my family so please stop bargaining.”

Altaire dropped a crown and picked out two figurines including the cat.

“I didn’t ask you to buy it for me,” Syryn told the man when he held it out to him.

“Did you forget that we’re travelling through a bandit infested mountain and it’s almost nightfall?”

Syryn snatched the cat out of Altaire’s hand.. There was no winning against the man.