Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 37: The Second Assessment

A/N: Music is the Al Milanese Castell' Arquato manuscript played by a crumhorn consort. Play it! I figured after all the intensity and confusion in the last few chapters, you guys needed a break, thus the soothing music.

And yes, this chapter will be fairly slow too. Enjoy.

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It's the day of the second assessment, and I woke up with a sense of disorientation.

I had a strange dream—faces were fading in and out of my sight, pleading me to do something. Their faces were unrecognisable, desperate. Grotesque even. It took a long time before I realised what they were saying.

"Find him."

Then I jerked awake in a sheen of cold sweat.

As I get ready for the day, with the first break of dawn tickling my cheeks as though it were a long lost friend, I stumble about groggily, remembering the dream. I must be too stressed out if I allow a mere fabrication of the mind to disturb me like this. In attempt to distract myself, I cast my mind to other things.

Yesterday, I managed to ask Gilbert about how he'd defeated the ghosts. He can use compulsion, and he is well-versed in the 'hit-when-being-hit' combat style. However, Captain Eldric reported at least twelve ghosts. Plus, there were Quinnians being held hostage then. It would have been difficult to move in without risking the scholar's lives.

We were walking back into the outer ring after we learned that Quinnian Allura had fallen ill. Thus, the research session was cancelled, and we had the afternoon free to ourselves.

I remember that his cheeks caught fire when I taxed him with my question. "Oh, uh...Well, I just charged straight in and—distracted them. So that the Elite Guard could escort the Quinnians to safety."

I raised a brow. "So you're saying that the Guard did nothing at all?"

"I wouldn't say nothing, exactly," he mumbled in reply.

"Then?" My brow arched higher. "How did Captain Eldric so easily proclaimed that some members of the Guard managed to defeat the ghosts?"

"That was somewhat true," he admitted reluctantly, eyes cast downwards as his feet shuffled forwards. "I couldn't hold off all of the ghosts, so some of them gave chase to the escaping party..."

"And you managed to defeat so many ghosts by yourself? Without the aid of others? Pietists in Heaven, I know that you're the Champion of Pst. Ailith, but even we can take so many blows at a time."

"The ghosts were weak," he snarled unexpectedly. I kept my expression neutral, bordering on cynical. "All it took was a few punches to the gut to dissipate them!"

My brows scrunched together. "Why would Diomedes attack the Quinnians, of all people? And why summon weaker ghosts? Why..." I trailed off. The questions swam in my head, transforming it into a vortex of confusion.

"Look, why are you even asking all these questions? The point is, Diomedes is definitely coming, and we need to find other ways to defeat him!"

I didn't have the heart to continue the conversation after that. Gilbert wasn't going to relent anytime soon, and I didn't have any idea on how to defeat Diomedes. We were left to our devices, leaving each other in a sulky fit. Now, I wonder if I should've pressed on, force him for the truth.

I then recall the conversation I had with Sir Isaac the day before.

I pause, breeches half-worn. The elderly knight had put so much faith in me to perform in this second assessment, to make him proud. I pull the breeches up with a determined tug, and belt it with steady fingers. I will not fail him today. Not for anything.