The Light On Your Face For The First Time

She saw it.

Discomfort at the weapon in his room was minuscule compared to his horror thinking Lotusfoil most likely found his poetry, too.

Redmaw was supposed to be strong, enigmatic, cold. He was supposed to be frightening. He made his Knives tremble and avoid him on his worst days, he pushed them to their limits on his best, he saw results. And now he was going to be a laughingstock because the secret would come out that he was a soft soul, a poor inarticulate sap who spewed his feelings all over paper. What was he supposed to do?

It was all Beocraft's plan; he'd goaded the girls into invading his space, and Redmaw beat the ever-loving tar out of him for it. But that didn't fix Coldstern being imprisoned and Lotusfoil seeing his poetry, and now he had neither of his most loyal allies by his side. After succumbing to his rage, he isolated himself in his room while the afternoon tasks were carried out, pacing, feeling betrayed and humiliated.

He wanted to clear the air with Lotusfoil. But he knew responsibility would take him to Coldstern first.

From the keep to the castle, Redmaw dodged glances, his destination obvious by his trajectory toward the long stony corridor that led to the dungeon. He didn't so much expect an explanation or apology from Coldstern as he did insight into Beocraft's motives, but wasn't destined to receive either—Evander waited for him at the stairwell.

"Hello, Knive Superior. May we speak?"

Despite the unassuming posture of hands folded behind his back, golden mask tilted and smile present in his voice, Evander's request was foreboding. "Yes," said Redmaw, changing course to follow the Court Herald.

They landed once more in Evander's office. "Tell me why Beocraft forged an illegal weapon and had it hidden in your quarters," Evander said as he sat.

"I assume it was part of a scheme."

"There were null shards as well. Lotusfoil dispelled them."

Nobody had mentioned the null shards. Redmaw wondered if Beocraft collected them from the mission last week. In response to his silence, Evander gestured for him to sit, but Redmaw remained standing.

"Lotusfoil and Coldstern are convinced Beocraft was trying to frame you," Evander continued.

"That seems clear to me."

"And you already punished him. Do you expect the Court to take action on top of this?"

Redmaw rumbled. Should he have left it up to them? "No."

"Then we will not," said Evander. A hum emanated from behind his mask as he curiously leaned closer. "What do you suppose he was suggesting you would do with the null shards?"

"The Type 1 sickness is caused by exposure to webbed shard. Coldstern and I can both create it. He means to accuse us both of infecting our fellow Knives," said Redmaw. "But how he made that connection without the knowledge we have, I do not know."

"Perhaps he has an alternative source of knowledge," suggested Evander. "I've noticed that the weapon he made resembles Nightchurch's dagger."

Before Redmaw could ask if he even had it, Evander withdrew the hand axe from a drawer and placed it before him. Redmaw lifted the axe and turned it over. Merely touching it evoked strange discomfort in him, sad anger which fought through an artificial numbness imparted by the weapon's metal. An unusual side effect, he wondered if it was attributed to the Type 4 material formed from null shard. "Is it possible this weapon could permanently kill someone too?"

"We wouldn't know unless we experimented with it."

"I'm not going to kill any of my Knives just to see if they don't come back," said Redmaw.