CHAPTER 11: ALL KNOWING
The shore reeked of blood, ash, and charred flesh. Smoke curled from the bodies of the wounded, their clothes burnt and tattered.
The House Heads lay sprawled across the shore, pale and broken. Their pride, like their flesh, was scorched and raw. Some groaned faintly, others lay too still to tell the difference between life and death.
Cael Ardour stood tall among them, his coat fluttering in the salty breeze. On his back, he carried Matriarch Esme Ardour, her body limp, breathing shallow. His face was blank—too blank.
"What took you so long?!" Matriarch Miron Mau's voice cut through the silence. Her hair was singed, her lips swollen, and her body trembled not with pain—but fury.
"How can you send us here and then take your time coming? We could've all died! Gaston is dead!" she snapped, teeth clenched. Her voice trembled with pain, but the hatred in her eyes burned steady.
The others, too broken to speak, managed only to nod in agreement. Every slight movement was a reminder of their beat down—and his absence.
But Cael's reply was calm, cold, and unshaken.
"I wasn't late," he said. "I've been here... even before the fight started."
There was a long pause. Then their gazes sharpened like drawn daggers, eyes ignited with rage.
Patriarch Noa Inertia, known for his gentle voice, was no longer gentle.
"What do you mean you were here the whole time?"
Zara Avarice rose to her feet, her expression distorted with disbelief and fury.
"Do you think you're above the law just because you're a Blood Covenant? We can have you charged with treason and executed!"
Miron Mau didn't hold back either.
"You sick bastard. I knew something was off! You could've stopped the attack on the Emperial Estate. The perpetrator was just a child—you let him escape. Then you sent us after him, only to sit back and watch us nearly be slaughtered by one of the Chained Generals of the Shurur Empire!"
Still, Cael Ardour didn't flinch. The usual smirk that danced across his lips was absent. His gaze was steady. Unflinching.
"It was an order," he said flatly. "You think I would willingly endanger my sister? My aunt? Let alone the Empire?"
Zara's eyes widened in confusion. Her voice cracked with rage.
"What order?! The only one who can give you orders is your sister—and she was unconscious after the attack!"
"Matriarch Avarice," Cael snapped, voice dark and edged, "stop barking. You'll only aggravate your wounds."
He took a breath.
"Our Acme issued the order to me. Telepathically. Right before the attack."
A chill rolled over the battlefield like a phantom wind. The wounded flinched. Silence followed—heavy, suffocating.
Noa Inertia, his voice now a whisper, broke it.
"…Captain. You do know such claims can get you Erased without a trace?"
"I do," Cael said. "Do you think a Blood Covenant doesn't understand the cost of speaking the Acme's name recklessly?"
No one answered.
The very mention of the Acme's will felt like a knife to the throat. Words became dangerous. Even breathing too loud felt like heresy.
"It's foolish to question the Acme my job is to take orders from the Acme so i know," Cael continued. "No matter what."
Miron Mau's voice trembled, her fury cracking under horror.
"Then… was old man Gaston's death also the Acme's will?"
Cael didn't hesitate.
"Yes. His death—and yours."
He scanned their faces, each pale and stunned.
"All of you were meant to die at the hands of the Chained General. I disobeyed the Acme's instructions by saving you."
There was no sound for a moment.
Only the waves.
Only the cold.
Then Patriarch Noa Inertia—collapsed to his knees. He clawed at Cael's feet, trembling.
"Captain… Execute us. Now. Immediately. How can you disobey the Acme? Have you lost your mind? Your interference could bring about consequences worse than death!"
Cael kicked his hand away without a second thought.
"You want to die like a fanatic?" he said. "Then go ahead. Kill yourself."
His voice deepened, cold.
"I didn't become this strong—or join the Blood Covenants—just to watch my aunt get burned alive like an animal by a Chained General."
He took a step forward, eyes daring any of them to speak.
"If the Acme feels wronged, he can come see me about it himself."
There were gulps. Shaky breaths. The House Heads had seen horrors—but nothing as terrifying as this defiance. Not directed at him.
Cael looked down at them, once proud leaders now broken and afraid.
"If you're not going to kill yourselves," he said calmly, "then get up."
He turned, facing the burning river behind them.
"We've got a mess to clean up."