Bayard’s mission in life is simple: fight against the conclave and protect humanity and supernatural creatures alike. To do that, he and the other heroes who left the conclave need the help of everyone they can convince, including heroes who still believe the conclave is doing the right thing like Percival.
Percival was captured by the fallen heroes and is sitting in a cell. It’s admittedly a nice cell, but Percival has no intention of joining the fallen heroes.
When Percival’s siren half surfaces, Percival panics. He can’t go back to a conclave that would kill him if they found out about it, but he still believes in the conclave’s mission to protect humanity. There’s no place for him with the conclave, but is there one with the fallen heroes?
Bayard wants Percival to see the truth about the conclave, and he hopes to do that by linking them together using a spell. They can’t be apart while the spell is active, but can they learn to live together? Or will Percival run back to the conclave as soon as he finds a way?
Bayard glared at the screen. He understood why this job was necessary, but was he really the one who had to do it? “There are too many of them,” he complained.
“Which is why the three of us are doing this,” Mordred said from further down the table. “I could have asked you to do it on your own.”
Bayard groaned and turned his attention back to his computer. “There are more than a hundred messages here.”
“I’ll take the first thirty. You take the next thirty. Eudocia will take another thirty.”
“What about the last ones?”
Mordred shrugged. “We’ll see once we get there.”
And new emails were arriving as Bayard stared at the screen. This was going to be a long day.
With a sigh, he opened the first message. It only took him a few moments to realize he didn’t need to read it to know what the hero who’d sent it wanted. It was full of insults and threats, so Bayard clicked out of it and moved it to a new folder. He labeled it idiots we need to look into and moved on to the next email.
“What’s that folder supposed to mean?” Eudocia asked. She sounded amused.
“Open it and check the email I put there. You’ll see.”
Bayard could hear her click around, so he waited. She snorted, then made a disgusted sound.
“You know, I think I knew this guy when I was still with the conclave. He is an idiot,” she said.
“It’s a good idea to keep threatening emails,” Mordred added. “At least we know who we’re never going to be able to convince of the truth.”
Unfortunately, they all knew that some heroes would stay with the conclave. For some, it was because they were idiots who couldn’t see what the conclave was doing. For others, it was because they knew what the conclave was doing, and they didn’t care. Some of them no doubt agreed with killing all supernatural creatures and were eager to do their jobs. Unfortunately, being a hero didn’t mean you were a good person.
Just like Bayard had expected, this was hard work. After the third email, he’d already had enough of threats. He also wanted to find the idiots who had written those emails and beat them into the ground, but instead, he limited himself to moving the emails to the folder he’d created earlier and moving on to the next one.
Luckily, he found a few hesitant emails asking for more information about what the conclave was doing. Those he moved to a folder Mordred had created. They would have to contact the heroes who’d written them later so they could give them more information and make sure they weren’t spies.
The door creaking open made the three of them look up. Eudocia waved at Amyas, then turned her attention back to her screen, but Bayard could already do with a break, so he leaned back in his chair and watched. Amyas walked in and made a beeline for Mordred. He sat in the seat next to his boyfriend and leaned close to him. Their shoulders brushed together for a moment before Mordred wrapped an arm around Amyas’s waist and pulled him even closer, almost in his lap. Amyas chuckled but didn’t protest.
Bayard swallowed. He was happy Mordred and Amyas had found each other. They both deserved happiness, and he didn’t care that it meant Mordred was a bit distracted or had better things to do instead of working all the time. It meant more work for Bayard, but it wasn’t like he had anyone waiting for him in his room anyway. Mordred did now, and he should spend as much time with Amyas as he could.
All of them were immortal unless someone beheaded them or something equally dramatic. But they were warriors, which meant they could die any day. Mordred himself went out on missions as often as he could, and he could get hurt, or worse. Bayard would do everything he could to make sure that didn’t happen, but he’d lost friends over the decades, and it would happen again. There was nothing he could do about it, unfortunately.
“You’re staring,” Eudocia said.
She hadn’t even looked away from her screen, but she was smiling.
Bayard considered telling her she was wrong, but she knew him too well. They’d been friends for hundreds of years, and she was one of the people he was closest to. “I don’t understand how you’re not. Don’t you want what they have?” he asked in a whisper.
She finally looked at him. “I don’t know. It looks sweet, but also like a lot of work.”
Bayard pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. “Even then. They finally have someone to share the next decades with.” Being immortal had its perks, but it also had its downfalls. It was lonely, even when you managed to find someone to share your life with.
Bayard had had a few relationships, most of them with other heroes, but unfortunately, they hadn’t worked out. They hadn’t been the right people, to the point that he wondered if the right person was still out there for him. Maybe he was, and he just needed to wait and see what happened. Mordred was much older than he was, and he’d only just now found Amyas. Bayard had to keep his mind open, and of course, his eyes.
Was what Mordred and Amyas had something he even wanted? Right now, it sounded good, but he knew himself. He felt lonely, so he wanted a relationship. That didn’t mean he’d look for someone or that he’d look the other way if he met the right person, but he felt as if his life was on pause. The only thing he could focus on was his job, so after one last glance at Mordred and Amyas, who were quietly talking while Amyas pointed at the screen, he went back to work.