Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Kingdom had always been in turmoil, from territorial disputes to internal conflicts. To ensure the longest possible period of peace for said Kingdom, aside from the militia under the direct control of the Royal Court, there was another military force operating in the shadow, doing the unsung deeds, protecting civilians of the Kingdom with no one but the King’s recognition:

The Order of Impossibilis. 

Members of the Impossibilis could exist among civilians and be recruited without noble blood, as long as that individual swore to the Oath of Duty, readied to forfeit all glory and accolades, and pledged their loyalties to the King till the bitter end. Thus, all members of the Order were exceptional people, from the most gifted to the most elusive. Ethan Hunt, once an orphan herding sheep for food in the Midwest Valley, had dedicated the entirety of his youth to the Orders and became the most exceptional of the organisation.

As such, his “treason” was made the most notorious, threatening the very collapse of the Order as it happened.

It had started with the rescue of Ethan’s protégé, a Chevalier and member of the Order named Lindsey Farris. The fiendish Davian - an infamous trafficker who had been wreaking havoc at the northeast border for years - had captured the chevalier as the Order launched a midnight raid on Davian’s hideout. Ethan had led a squad to rescue Lindsey before the trafficker could prove to be a bigger threat, and the operation was successful… until the unthinkable happened.

When he got to the young student, she was deadly ill. Lindsey was delirious and in immeasurable pain. Around the girl, a strong smell of dark magic had emanated from her skin, making Ethan unable to get close without hurting himself. That night, Lindsey died in his arms, the curse claimed her life, as no one else knew how to save her from such magic.

Though devastated, not all seemed to be lost - as Ethan went through his protégé’s belongings and found unknown runes noted on the last page of her journal, the date written a fortnight before her departure. His Commander, Sir John Musgrave, had taken upon himself to decipher the runes, urging Ethan to check for the burnt reports his men had found in Davian’s last hideout, believing it could have marked the true location of the fiendish trafficker. Soon, he found where and what Davian had been seeking: the fiend would soon travel to a monastery called Romethede, and he was searching for something called a ‘Charm of Hare’.

When he had relayed the information to Sir Musgrave, he also received a grave revelation: In runes, his protégé had claimed that she knew Davian had been receiving funds… from the King himself.

“...I know what the King would kill to hide. I know the King would soon know of my findings,” Sir Musgrave had translated the runes to him, in a chamber at the dead of the night. “The King will soon dispose of me. May this truth not fall into the wrong hands.”

They had vowed to keep this secret to themselves and would find an opportunity to confront the King about it. Ethan had been the one to act first, as his grief for his deceased student had turned into a need for justice. He had sought out the King, pleading for a chance to enquire about an important matter. His Benevolence had agreed.

Then, that fateful night… The night that changed Ethan’s destiny.

When he had descended to the depth of the Southern Tower - a place where the Royal Court would meet the members of the Order - he had found the King was gravely injured… with a replica of Ethan’s sword plunged to his back.

He received no trial. Ethan was condemned immediately, thrown into the prison chamber with the low lives he had helped capture. His death was scheduled in the next five days: a public execution, for the crime of mutiny. 

Three days into his sentence, Sir Musgrave had secretly broken him out, demanding he find Davian and the Charm of Hare to prove his innocence. His escape had not gone exactly to plan, as he was discovered by the guards soon after. Ethan had to make some mad decisions, but finally, he escaped the castle in the nick of time. Unfortunately, his wounds were grave, and the disavowed Knight had to walk on foot, following the rivers and hiding in the marsh, so as not to leave his blood trails apparent.

He had walked, and walked, further and further away from the Kingdom. The Knight was truly at a loss for the second time in his life.

When Ethan’s body finally collapsed, he had prayed to the Gods for a miracle to happen.

---

When Knight Ethan Hunt came to, it was just minutes before dawn. The disavowed knight was bandaged and lay on a straw-stuffed mat, under the roof of a messy, unfamiliar shack.

“You’re awake!” A voice announced on his left side. Though muffled and housing no malice, it still made Ethan bristle and on his feet, his hands were immediately reaching for the sword-

Which was not on his hips. He had no armour, no weapon on hand.

… Not even his undergarments were… present… on him.

“‘ Ey now, don’t go knock down any of my -- Oh-- Oh jeez! Oh darn! Shoot!”

Ethan turned to face a man a smidge taller than him, with cropped blond hair, cobalt blue eyes, and a complexion that favoured the indoors, whose face was beet-red under his hands. He detected no aura of devilry in the stranger, though there was a pungent scent of magic around him. 

The knight sighed.

“You disrobed me.”

“To treat your wounds!” The estranged man screeched. Ethan took pity on the guy and grabbed the blanket on the mat to cover himself, but the stranger cried out, “Don’t use my quilt for that!”

“Then give me my clothes back, please.”

“... It won’t do, not now. Yours are bloody filthy, and I meant it. You want to have them and be a snare to the pack of wolves outside, it’s on the clothesline at the back.”

The strange man seemed to finally overcome embarrassment, crossing Ethan to rummage a drawer (almost indistinguishable from the thick stacks of books, scrolls, and litter burying that poor thing under). He threw the spare clothes at Ethan, which missed by a large margin. 

The clothes had a strange musk-mixing-wet-clay smell that clung to them. These were some of the better things Ethan received, compared to the days he was imprisoned.

“Do you… want any help with that?” The stranger asked, still pointedly turning his head away. “With your, uh, wounds…”

“There’s no need,” Ethan said, biting his teeth to suppress the pain in his left shoulder as he put the fading tunic on. “You have done… more than you should for the likes of me. I am now in your debt, merciful Mage.”

The stranger laughed, a sheepish sound. “Can’t say I’m not flattered. Pay your debt by trying not to bleed out on my bed, O’ Prideful Knight."

There was a pause. Unexpectedly, the stranger turned to him as he was putting the pants on next - 

“Did you just-- blasphemous sight! -- did you--?! I mean, you called me a Mage , didn’t you?”

“Should I not?” Ethan huffed, the pain slightly bearable by focusing on the flattering blush on the stranger’s cheeks as he yanked his head away from Ethan once again. “You know me as a Knight sooner than I have realised you as a Mage. It might have been more of a burden on you, knowing the circumstances and the reputation I now bear.”

Ethan hung his head low with a rueful smile on his face. If he were able, he would have ditched the place and…

And, where would the disavowed Knight go when the entire militia was out for his blood? If it weren’t for the stranger’s help, he would have died a defector, a despicable villain with the blood of the King on his hands.

A new weight and warmth settled on the mat. When Ethan looked up, the stranger had sat beside him in camaraderie. 

The stranger, who looked too young to be a Mage, yet the magic Ethan felt coming from him was true, pure. He extended his hand, and Ethan shook on it.

“Name’s Benjamin Dunn. I… don’t have a place in the world yet, but you are the first person to call me a Mage, and for that I am grateful. I found you bleeding out near the river as I’d made my way from the market, and I knew you were a Knight by the sword you had in your hands.”

Ethan hesitated. When he was thrown into prison, waiting to be executed for the highest offence a countryman could make to his motherland, Ethan had sworn he would place his trust sparsely. He would find a way to clear his name, protect his Kingdom, expose the true mastermind responsible for his King's demise, and survive. Even if it meant he had to defy the law. Even if he had to be alone.

Benjamin’s hand was in his. Warm, generous. Ethan found himself not ready to let go just yet.

He opened his mouth, and told Benjamin his story instead.

---

“Whenever you’re ready,” Benjamin called for him outside the shack. It would soon be morning, and they only had minutes left to spare if they wanted to make it to Romethede in time.

Ethan emerged with his engraved sword by his side, keeping the breastplate and the armguards of the old armour while wearing the leather boots Benjamin had given to him. He shaved his head to a buzzcut and wore a chequered cloth as a mask, to lower the chance of being recognised by the locals. Beside him, Benji looked the same as he was the day they had met; the only difference was that the robe he wore looked less frayed, the dye on it still hadn’t faded completely, and he had a satchel that was stuffed to the brim with notes and charcoal.

“We could stay another day,” Benjamin continued. “I just bought a week’s worth of rations. You only rest for, what, a night? That can’t be enough.”

“I will heal. The time I’m wasting will not,” Ethan said matter-of-factly, then side-eyed the ‘mage’. “I could have made the same argument for you. You must be a busy man with your magic study.”

They started walking instead. The week’s worth of rations was packed in a haversack, and Benjamin Dunn acted as a compass to lead him out of the forest. There was no pathway connecting the forest to any nearby town, only grass grew crisscrossed with pebbles and mildew softening each step of the pair. Before he knew it, Benjamin had embarked with him on a journey as well.

The man ignored his later remarks. “So, Romethede… Can’t say I’m familiar with any place with that kind of name,” he said instead. They had crossed the edge of the forest, closing in on a wooden bridge that led to a small farming village. Where Benjamin had stayed, it must have been quite far from the urban area; he could make a guess that they were at the Southeast border, where the Chesepiooc Sinus would be.

“If a monastery is bestowed a name, it is because they are marked as a sanctuary in lands at war. The place would become a neutral ground, where no army or outside forces could claim it as their own,” Ethan replied. “By chance, do you know anything about the Charm of Hare?”

“It sounds like a superstition thing. Folksy stuff,” Benjamin answered. The pair mingled well with the locals, keeping their faces nonchalant as they passed the market square-- at least that was for Ethan. Some people recognised the other man, calling him by a name Ethan had not been introduced to before. Benji , they called the man. A nickname? he pondered.

“It's a name for some kind of ‘lucky’ charm - if you believe in the concept of luck and fate. It also depends on who you’re asking. I know some necromancers dabble in that sort of stuff - cutting rabbits, choosing which breed to chop, killing it in certain ways to extract the ‘magic’ out of it. Cruel, if you ask me.” 

Benjamin was babbling, and between the ever-present scent of magic, Ethan could smell another scent on the man. A nervous note that he wasn’t sure if it was new, or already an inherent thing from his now-companion. 

It was not a bad distraction. Ethan was more used to silence, but it didn’t mean he hated mindless chatters.

“That fellow you’re chasing after,” Benjamin continued, “He’s a weapon dealer, right? Hare charm is popular among the bar regulars; you know, playing cards and scamming gold out of poor drunken sods? Crimes and gambling are often a pair.”

Though logical, Ethan’s gut didn’t agree. It would not explain why Davian would have the reports mentioning it burned, or why such a thing would be in the hands of any vicars.

The pair soon approached a barren pier, barren except for a lone dugout canoe. As Benjamin explained, there was no designated boatman since there was no need for one, as only those in need would learn how to row a boat. The simple villagers had no desire to leave, so they would only use the canoe to trade with nearby towns or send urgent messages to His Royal Highness.  

“One would always have to return, it would seem,” Ethan concluded.

“I could ask for one of the villagers to row us where we need to, as long as he knows the way,” Benjamin replied with a twist of his lower lip. “But where in the bloody hell is Romethede…”

A place quickly sparked inside Ethan’s mind. Unfortunately, the place did not resolve the exact location point for Romethede… However, there was a person who could help him answer a bigger question. 

The question that had plagued him ever since he found the King bleeding out under the Southern Tower.

Chapter Text

Going back to the inner city was like voluntarily walking into a lion’s den. Every wall, from the outer layers to the inner columns of the city, had wanted posters of Ethan plastered. The price they had put on his head could help a family of five well-fed for an entire year.

They dropped off from a faraway dock, then used the sewer to sneak into the city, all had to be done at the crack of dawn, where even the most resilient soldier had dropped their guard. Ethan was not sure if the man he sought was awake… or whether his most trusted confidant would stay loyal to the King and kill him on sight.

“He wouldn’t, right?” Benjamin replied, his sleepy voice was laced with worry. He was guarding Ethan’s back while the knight looked for the spot he knew would grant access to his friend’s house.

“He was a member of the Order, true. Yet, he is no soldier. All I know is that he is a talented mage and the most trustworthy man I’ve had the chance to meet.” 

… No chance. His friend must have fixed his fence again. Knowing him, Ethan knew the man would have been paranoid after Ethan’s arrest.

Behind him, Benjamin made a soft ‘huzzah!’ and shook Ethan’s right arm with renewed vigour.

“Well, mister Knight! You could have told me he’s a mage sooner! Does he have a family? Is his family also mages?”

“I… No, no, I don’t think he has settled down. Benjamin, what--?”

Before Ethan could ask for an elaboration, Benjamin had busied himself with rummaging through his satchel. He crouched on the ground and laid out a piece of brown parchment, then used charcoal to scribble something onto it. Only the breaking dawn rising from the city’s walls acted as a light source, and Ethan tried his best to rein in his curiosity as he watched the man fill the entire parchment with runes. Satisfied with his work, Benjamin pressed the parchment to his lips and whispered something he couldn’t pick up fully.

“Cover me, Ethan. Just in case someone sees.”

The parchment in Benjamin’s hands suddenly glowed. The runes changed colour, black dust turned to a soft fairy blue, then unfurled themselves and flew to Luther’s second-floor balcony. As it flew, Ethan could hear some noise from it: it was the same octave as the whispers, yet the sound overlapped. Like ocean waves folding onto one another.

The waves of blue orbs hit the window, then disappear. 

Minutes later, a light turned on from the second floor.

“What is…” Ethan asked, being a little breathless.

“The labour of my study! Well, it’s… should’ve been more,” Benjamin sheepishly answered. “Anyone should properly hear the spell if I do my stuff right. But as of right now… only people who are born with magic or are super-sensitive to magic could hear it. It’s hard to prove my worth as an Illusionist if my spell only works for a selected few and not… a whole lot, you know?”

“I could hear it. Not exactly word for word, but… I hear it. It’s a start for something that will change the world, I believe.”

Benjamin didn’t say more, only nodding to Ethan’s comment. Yet, without a lantern or the sun to shine on, the bashful smile of the apprentice illusionist could be properly seen when they were that close to each other. 

It felt… elevating, knowing Ethan had made someone happy. Knowing Ethan had made him happy.

“Whoever sent me that damn message, I know you’re there!” A voice boomed in the yard - not loud enough to alert the guards, but enough to make both of them nervous - 

“Unless your name is truly Benjamin Dunn, you will wish to be gone from my sight. I know you’re behind that fence!”

When Ethan emerged from their hiding place and removed his cloth mask, Magister Luther Stickell immediately dropped his weapon, unlocked the gate, and ushered the two of them to step inside quickly.

“Ethan Hunt, my friend!” His most trusted companion hugged him tightly; his booming laughter showed clearly how happy he was to see his friend alive. “You really are a desperado if I have to put a name to your reckless nature. The entire Kingdom is out there for your blood! And here you are.”

“I cannot run forever, Luther. Something sinister is behind this: The death of Lindsey, the attack on the King… I have to seek out the truth for myself.”

As the trio marched to Luther’s laboratory, Ethan was updated with some great and not-so-great news: Miraculously, though gravely injured, the King was alive. As the King was bedridden, the current responsibility fell on the next in line, Princess Julia. So far, none of the opposing empires had heard of the incident, thus the Kingdom was safe from outside forces… for now.

The troubling news was that the King’s regent, Sir Theodore Brassel, was accused of colluding with an opposing faction to dethrone the King, and the Royal Court had exiled him just after Ethan’s escape from prison. Taking the place of the Regent was Sir Musgrave, Brassel’s Second-in-Command. 

With the King immobilised and the Princess still new to the position of power, Sir Musgrave… was now the most powerful man in the Kingdom. 

“Who is the one providing the evidence to indict Sir Brassel?”

Ethan asked Luther. Both knew the answers, and saw something was wrong lurking behind the scenes.

“... Sir Musgrave.”

As they closed the windows and doors of the laboratory, Ethan unfastened the strap of his sword, and in it hid a page of his deceased student’s journal—the page with the runes accusing the King of working with the fiend Davian.

“I once trusted what Sir Musgrave had said. Now… I had my doubts. Some things are too concise to be mere coincidences.”

Ethan said to the two men, his knuckles shook as he tried to hold himself back. Sir Musgrave knew where and how to use the mould of his sword. Sir Musgrave knew how to read the runes in Lindsey’s journal, yet he didn’t know Lindsey could neither sense nor create magic. Sir Musgrave was the one who appointed the midnight raid and put his student in the group. Sir Musgrave was the one who broke him out of prison and told him to run, rather than fight back.

It seemed that whenever he went, betrayal would always claim Ethan. Being betrayed… was his fate.

“... Hold on. These aren’t runes.”

Benjamin spoke up, gingerly lifting the paper. He almost crossed his eyes from how much he was squinting, unmoving as he inspected the runes on the paper for a while. Then, just as suddenly as he had spoken up, Benjamin said in triumph:

“It’s encrypted! It’s… texts made smaller to fit! Sir Luther, you have a magnifying glass in here, yes?” 

The magister levelled Benjamin with a quizzical look. After a few beats, he walked to a table adjacent to where they were standing, fished out an engraved round glass from the messy pile of scrolls and parchments. Luther threw the item to Benjamin, chuckling slightly to see the younger man fumble to catch it, then quietly asked the Knight:

“Who’s this fella, Ethan?”

“Benjamin Dunn. He’s the one contacting you just prior, and… I owe him my life.”

Luther raised his eyebrow, a silent ‘that so’ in reply to Ethan. “Don’t know how you’ve come across him; the lad’s certainly peculiar. He has a good foundation; his magic is pure. The Order would want to use someone like him.”

Ethan grimaced a little, noticing the subtle bite behind those words. He knew too well of Luther’s disdain for the Order. If not for Ethan’s loyalty and friendship forged from fire, war, and loss, he would never have found a confidant as intelligent and trustworthy as Luther in the Order, and he knew Luther considered him the same.

“Um, a word, if I might? You two would want to see this.”

Benjamin’s voice was loud but sheepish. The glass was in his right hand, and his left hand drummed anxiously on the table, where the journal page lay.

Upon reading the runes through the magnifying glass, Ethan shared the same unease.

Sir Ethan, this could be my last ever confidence in you, and I pray to the Lord that no one else but you will read these words. For I fear that the Order has become corrupted.

I received a command from Sir Musgrave to gather information on the fiend Davian before the raid. After my reconnaissance, I have found something horrendous. Davian has been receiving finance for quite a while. 

One of the suppliers was none other than the King’s regent, and the Grand Master of the Order, Sir Brussel.

I will gather the proof and return to camp. Should the Lord be so merciful, I will deliver this message along with a way to decrypt this, and the evidence, to your witness only. You, Sir Ethan, are the only one I believe to hold justice in his heart.

If I were alive, please do not look for me. If I were dead, please bring the culprit to justice.

It took the trio a while to read through the encrypted message. When they were done, Ethan had to find some grounding-- he dropped himself to a nearby seat, his head clutched tight in his palms. From the side, Luther did not look any better.

“Are you two, um, alright?” Benjamin asked, worry and confusion apparent in his voice. “I may be slow on the uptake, but is this not proof that Sir Musgrave is just?”

“It does not line up,” Ethan said hoarsely. “Should this be true, Sir Musgrave would have no reason to lie to me about the runes’ meaning. Furthermore, this does not explain the motive behind the attack on the King.”

“There’s a chance that Musgrave somehow caught wind of Brussel’s actions, and has an agenda of his own. The recent events are too coincidental to prove that Musgrave is innocent,” Luther mulled, frustration showing through his knitted eyebrows. “But there is no way to clarify this claim. The ones that could were…”

Suffocating silence blanketed the whole study. 

In silence, Ethan’s mind thrashed in pain. The message from his dead protégé may have cleared some of the mystery of her death; however, it was immediately replaced with another dilemma. What Sir Brussel, and perhaps Sir Musgrave, have done were directly against the oaths of the Order; not only his Grand Master was responsible for endangering the people by giving power to someone like Davian, but also the doubt that the leading power of the Order could be responsible for the attack on the King was growing more concrete… 

Ethan was a pawn in their illicit plan all along.

He looked down, his eyes caught on the glint of the engravings on his sword handle. The crest of the Order - willow leaves circling a bevel shape of the symbol for the Kingdom - shone like a beacon amid a darkened sea storm.

“There is a way.”

Benjamin and Luther both turned to him.

“We still have a clue,” Ethan continued, his voice growing stronger as his mind devised a counter-attack. “Sir Musgrave has left a direction for me before releasing me from prison. A place called Romethede.”

“The Charm of Hare!” Benjamin followed.

“The item Davian has been going after,” said Luther, “and a sanctuary will attract many outlaws. Someone like Davian would likely be there, and he will be armed.”

“For the sake of the Kingdom and my own innocence, I must find Davian and uncover the truth. I am willing to do this alone.”

Then, Ethan took his sword out of the holster, and knelt before the two mages. He planted the sword onto the ground of the study, and lowered his head.

“Should you wish to… Should you wish to join me in this harrowing journey to save the Kingdom and eliminate a great evil… Then I, Ethan Hunt, solemnly swear to be your sword and shield, with your lives always having more value than my own.”

Ethan bowed his head lower, shoulders squared and in bated breath. Once upon a time, Lindsey had laughed at him after his first oath to Princess Julia; the youth had mocked him, though in good faith, that only he was one of the rare few who upheld the ancient codes of the Order. She called him a relic: too uptight, too honourable, too much of a Knight. She asked him to be her mentor on the same day.

Above him, Luther laughed without hesitation. The magister put his hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and Ethan could sense it: magic being imprinted on him. A protection spell.

Ethan tried not to wilt.

“What do you say, Benjamin Dunn? You’ve travelled with him thus far. You’re not from the inner walls of the Kingdom, am I right?”

“I, yes, well… I, um, I wasn’t sure if I should count myself in his proposal…”

He peered a look above his head. In front of him, Luther still held his hand out to grasp Ethan’s shoulder, while turning his head to look at Benjamin. The younger man, at the moment, looked nervous. Neither of them had left Ethan behind.

“Allow me to be frank,” Luther said, “With magic, to reach your current level merely by self-taught, is quite a feat. I do not lie when I say I’m impressed. Which is why it’s a waste.”

“I’m sorry?” Benji quickly interjected, crestfallen.

“You will never reach your full potential with what you have now. However, if you spend the right amount of time and spend it with a powerful mage, you might be getting somewhere you deserve to be. Ethan!” Luther suddenly turned to him - “Do you know where Romethede is?”

“I. No, I, uh, I am… working on it.”

“Ha! Then you need me to guide you there, my friend. The place I believe to be Romethede is quite the trip; it could take a couple of weeks to get there and back. Are you confident in your learning ability, Benjamin?”

“Oh, I… I mean, yes! Yes, absolutely, I will do my best to learn!”

Ethan and Benjamin looked confused, and Luther gave them a satisfied guffaw. He then announced that he would need some time to ‘pack up’, and left the room. 

The study was left with only the two men, who slowly turned to look at each other after a while. Ethan had yet to stand up.

“When you’re asking. Do you… With me, I mean.”

Benjamin asked with a shyness that befuddled Ethan, even when his mind understood what the young mage had meant. Maybe it was because Benjamin was crouching, his head near level to where Ethan had kneeled, their faces near enough for him to see the pink flush on Benjamin’s nose, the blue hue of his eyes. Maybe it was because of the breathless way Benjamin had asked.

“If you wish to,” Ethan found his voice to be equally soft. That was not how a Knight should voice his promise to those he wanted to protect.

“I wouldn’t travel this far with you if I didn’t want to. You are… when I first saw you, I knew you would change my life.” 

Ethan found Benjamin’s hands to be very peculiar. Although he was rough on the fingertips, his palms were incredibly soft and blissfully warm. He grasped Ethan’s hand that was bracing the ground, raising it and himself slowly until they were both on equal footing, and Ethan was allowed to see the speck of gold in Benjamin’s bright blue eyes.

Ethan gripped the sword in his right hand, the hand Benjamin was not touching; it was as if he was braced for a force of something , unseen, powerful. Strong enough to knock himself out, make his breathing still.  

“I promise to protect you. As a Knight,” then, Ethan swallowed. “As… a life in your debt.”

Benjamin laughed quietly. The force became more devastating to Ethan’s chest.

“Can I exchange that debt for, say, companionship?”

Ethan switched his sword to his left hand. They shook hands, and Ethan could feel another surge of magic flowing into his being. Luther’s magic was like wind from the sea - often cold, but refreshing, and brought clarity to those he blessed.

The magic Benjamin emitted was like a spring breeze to Ethan. Warm and grounding.

Ethan gripped the hand in his.

“Then I am indebted to have a companion like you, Benjamin.”