Hollow Atraxia

When Larro walked back to Octair he had already strapped his new long-sword onto his back. It wasn’t long enough to really be necessary, but on his back was where it felt comfortable. “Good choice,” Larro told him when he saw the sword, “makes you stand out even more. Here.” The leather purse that had held the coins he used to pay for the sword was placed in his hand, it still jingled with coins inside.

“Thanks, why are you giving me this?”

“No need to thank me, you bought the sword. Those are wages for half your trip, the other half will be paid to you when we reach Areth.”

For a moment Octair was stunned before he couldn’t help but laugh. “Such a giving fellow.” He wasn’t rich now, but by the weight of the purse he knew he wasn’t poor either.

“Too giving. But if you feel guilty I’ll let you pay for some of my drinks at taverns along the way.” The two set off again, Octair still trailing slightly behind as Larro wound through hustling servants and soldiers, and around tents that were gradually being packed away. All of the commotion made Octair realize just how hard it was to support so many men.

“Where are we headed now?”

Larro didn’t spare him a glance back at him, and continued resolutely toward their objective. “To the War-room. First you’ll have to give Neth back his sword. He’s not the type to complain or care about it, but it’ll save him the trouble of having to find another. And another thing, when we’re around other soldiers, and especially officers, call me ‘sir’. I don’t really care about the title, but it’s a matter of requiring respect from those of lower rank.”

“Aye, sir.”

“You’ve been acquainted with Elk, our cook?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So he’s told you of the common dislike of hired-swords?”

“Yes Captain.”

Larro gave him a look. “Real funny. I would tell you to be careful around those not in our troop, but you don’t seem like the type to take advice. At least, not from me.”

“I’ve already had a quaint introduction with that sort of situation. I don’t think anyone will cause problems, in fact I’ve already become acquainted with some of them.”

“Good, we’re here.” Larro said it before the tent of her Ladyship was even in sight, and they didn’t actually see it until rounding the corner of a tent. As before, two of the Royal Guard were standing by the entrance to the tent, each armed with a long pike for defense, and one had a short-sword while the other did not. It was obvious the one without the short-sword was Neth, and Octair recognized his face as they got closer. “Octair, stand guard next to Neth. Sorry, I can’t take you in this time. Shouldn’t be too long, just stand there and look tough.” After that, he disappeared behind the flap.

Octair already had the short-sword out and handed it to Neth who took it without comment and went back to staring at nothing. He tired to take a similar pose, standing stiff and at the ready beside Neth. And as interesting as the scenery was, the sun hadn’t gotten much higher before he had grown restless. “Shouldn’t be too long?”

His lips were the only part of Neth that moved when he answered Octair’s question. “A few hours maybe.”

Octair grew silent again, but after a while he decided there was nothing wrong with making conversation with his fellow guard. “So when’s the next meal?”

Neth was still unperturbed. “Dusk.”

“Hm. Do we always eat soup?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes we always eat soup?” Octair was trying to hammer away the stoniness in Neth’s composure. It didn’t seem to be working very well.

“We might have soup for days. Sometimes we have meat, sometimes other things.”

It amused Octair how Neth’s tone was as stiff as his composure, yet he still answered all of his questions. “Is there an higher-ranking officer above the Captain?”

Finally he got a reaction out of Neth as he turned his head slightly to look at Octair. “The Royal Guard only has Captains.”

“That’s it? Is it the same for the rest of the army?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Octair laughed, but was sure to be quiet about it, as he could hear the conversations being held inside of the tent. “You’re nice enough to give me answers.”

Neth remained silent for a moment. “The army have more officers and separate the men more.”

Octair smiled, he must have gotten to him somehow. “And the Royal Guard doesn’t separate the men?”

“Don’t need to. We all have only one duty, to protect the Royal family.”

“I noticed at first meal that a lot of men don’t like me being here. Are you the same?”

Neth looked at him for a moment, as if to judge better. “No,” he said plainly after he looked away again.

“And why’s that? And don’t tell me it’s because you’re not the type to care about the small things.” He smiled a bit to try and lighten the mood.

Neth glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. It took him a while to answer, but eventually he did. “Because you’re stronger than me.”

The honesty in that statement made Octair laugh, and he had to try hard to force himself to be quieter. “What makes you think I’m stronger than you?”

“Intuition. You hide it well, but I get the feeling whenever I look at you that you shouldn’t be taken lightly. I only thought so when I saw you with that sword on your back.” Octair was silent for a moment, which caused Neth to glance at him out of curiosity. What he saw was a blank stare directed at him. “…What?” He asked, a little put off by Octair’s sudden silence.

“Nothing, you just talk too much for a guard is all.” Neth raised an eyebrow at him, the first real change in his expression. “You really should be quiet, they might hear us.” Neth’s expression returned to it’s original blank-look, but he snorted out breath through his nose. “You just laughed at me!” But Neth ignored his accusation with a mocking glance in his direction. “So… this temple we’re camped near, it’s in Erdusk, right? Then why does the Princess of Erdusk need so many soldiers? Shouldn’t just the Royal Guard be enough?”

“The King sent them, not wanting to spare any protection for his only heir.”

“The Princess is his heir? Isn’t it normally the eldest son?”

“The King chooses his heir from his children, it is often the eldest son. But cases where there is only a daughter have happened before. The Princess will marry whom the King chooses for her.”

“So it could be you, or even me who may become king?”

“No. Most likely it’ll be a Nobleman. Perhaps even a Prince from one of the other kingdoms.”

“But there’s a chance right? One of us could become war heroes and gain the favor of the king.”
Neth only grunted at the idea. “First you would need a war.”

A moment of silent, but for the muffled voices within, encompassed the two for a long stretch of time before Octair began to speak. He was about to ask Neth if wars were common here, but before he could do so the flap of the tent was pushed inside and a man stepped through. Although the man was much bigger than Octair, he didn’t quite compare to Elk. What was unique about him was his missing eye and his scarred, shaved head. With the one eye he had he turned to Octair in a menacing glare before stomping off into the camp, a smaller man following close behind.

Octair was opening his mouth to ask who that had been but Neth spoke first. “Charsty, the Raid Squad’s captain. Why the King sent him with us is beyond me to question.”

“Who was that following him?”

Neth shrugged in dismissal. “A lower ranking soldier I presume.”

Shortly after the Raid Squad’s captain had exited the tent, others followed in suit. Fortunately, they didn’t all glare at Octair. Not all of them at least. After about the tenth person to leave, Larro, that is ‘Captain Larro’, stepped through the flap with a grim expression plastered on his face. Neth saluted Larro with a fist to his chest, and Octair followed suit.

Larro stepped closer to them both and looked around in suspicion. “Bad news. Don’t tell this to the other men, we don’t want to get them spooked with the ridiculous stories popping up from this.” Neth nodded and made to look as if he was uninterested and deaf, Octair only listened closely. “Another one of those beasts you met in the temple appeared, at a village on route back to Areth.”

This didn’t actually come as a surprise to Octair, but it did serve to dishearten him. “What did it look like?”

Larro blinked at the tone of voice Octair used, cold and demanding, almost like a leader. “It was… dark, like you mentioned.”

“What was it’s form? Did it have four legs? Two arms? Claws? Fangs? Wings? How big was it? What happened to it?”

“I… it was reported to have been on four legs, like a large wolf. It killed seventeen townsfolk and six armed guards before it died in a fire that took an inn. They didn’t find it’s body, but no one saw it escape the fire.”

Octair nodded in grim satisfaction, even if it killed many and hadn’t actually been killed by any. It was still dead, fire was a good weapon against many of them. “You won’t find a body, but it’s dead. They’re lucky it was the lesser type, just a dumb beast.”

Larro looked upon him in reaction to his words in shock, and even Neth raised an eyebrow at his indifference to hearing of the event. “A dumb beast? You mean there are different ones like that?”

“Don’t know how many types,” Octair shrugged, “we were never surprised when a new one showed up. But the closer to animals in appearance they are, the weaker they are. A bone structure to smash, a head to lop off, a dumb beast to outsmart.”

“There are more?”

“I don’t know. To be honest, even where I come from I thought we had killed them all. But we’ll be lucky if we only hear of another hundred cases like this one.” This had put a small fear in all of them, and they kept silent as if to mull it over. Enough time had passed that the sun was gradually sinking to the West, and only a few tents remained standing in the encampment.

“Just remember, don’t speak of this to the men. We’re all going to have a nice, relaxing and uneventful trip back to Areth. You two trade shifts,” Larro turned to the other guard whose presence Octair had completely forgotten about and spoke up, “you too Jim!” Then he nodded to the both of them and walked off towards one of the few remaining tents.

Octair turned to Neth, suspicion in his eyes. “He…get’s to sleep in a tent tonight doesn’t he?”

Neth turned and began to walk North towards the wagons. “Yep.”

“And we get to sleep on the ground…?”

“Or the wagon.”

Octair sighed, and he had just gotten used to the security of the tent and the luxury it provided. “Well, it’s something I’m used to.” He continued to follow Neth until they reached the line of wagons where many men were camped in groups around small fires. Many of them were eating and chatting softly. And as soon as Octair wondered what they were eating what could only be described as the cook’s wagon came into view. In front of the wagon was Elk, easily visible, with his cauldron and spoon in hand. This time there was no line, only a few people coming and going as they speedily collected their share of food. Neth had disappeared as Octair had ogled the food. He had forgotten how hungry he was, and that there was such fine foods to look forward to at the end of the day.

Neth could take care of himself, better than Octair probably could. So he made his way around campfires and groups of men until he reached his pack among the wagons and retrieved his bowl, then he made his way to Elk and his hoard of foods. The giant of a man looked worn out, with good reason. It seemed Elk was always on duty, serving up food for the men. He didn’t even call out when Octair approached him. “I’d like to make a complaint, this food is just too good to hand out for free.”

A spark of anger lit in Elk’s eyes when he heard of a complaint, not recognizing that it was Octair who spoke it at first. “Complaint! Why I-!” He stopped in the middle of his shouting to think about what he just heard and who it was he was shouting at. It took a few moments of Octair smiling widely at the joke for Elk to catch up on what was going on. “Ooh…! You really think I could sell what I make?” As serious as Elk asked that, Octair couldn’t help but smile even more.

“I’d say you could put your name on meat and people would buy it.”

The big guy certainly wasn’t as slow as one might expect from someone his size, he caught on to the joke immediately and laughed heartily. “A little late for supper might you be?”

“Yeah, they actually had me doing what I’m getting paid for.”

“What’s the world coming to?” Octair stuck his bowl out, and Elk promptly filled it with what little remained. “Got ya on the Royal Guard I hear? Ye won’t be seeing any action there.” Elk got a little dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared into Octair’s. “Nobody tries after the Dawn family.”

“I can imagine, if this is the strength of their guard every day.” Octair made brisk farewells with Elk, as the man seemed ready to collapse and still had to clean up. So he took his bowl of steaming soup among the campfires until he spotted one near the wagon he had placed his pack in. There were only three others sitting at the fire, and one of them was a familiar face.

As Octair sat inside the light of the fire, one of the two he didn’t recognize whispered something into the ear of the one whom he did. Drake looked up from whatever he was doing to see Octair sitting opposite of the fire. Fortunately all he did was glare and snarl a bit at Octair before going back to whatever he was doing while all three of them chatted together quietly.

Octair had no interest in a pointless confrontation with a man of such small character. Even if he did get into an argument with Drake, the man simply had nothing to give in the way of intellect. He was far more interested in his meal and the warmth of the fire. Fire had not been an impossibility in the dark realm he had come from, but it was a rarity. Often times there was either no wood to be used as fuel or there was too much risk the light of fire presented. The chain-mail, along with the leathers and metal pieces that served along with it as armor, gradually soaked up the heat from the fire until it served to keep him quite warm. By then he had finished the meal he had been given and rose to clean his bowl. The stream from before wasn’t hard to find, and he had no difficulty making his way there in the dark. For what little dark there was, the moon was almost full and shone upon the landscape providing plenty of light to see by. Completely unlike the dark realm, where even during the day it was dark.

At the stream, he knelt at the edge of the water and held his bowl in the softly running water. The reflection of the moon and the stars upon the water caught his attention, and he leaned over the water until he could see his own face. It had been ages since he had seen his own image, the mysterious waters of the Cave of Ending, the cave he thought he would die in, didn’t reflect anything. His face was haggard and unshaven, leaving a stubble of a beard covering his jawline. His hair he cut whenever he found it was too long and in the way, but he had done so with a knife and no desire to make it pretty and even. That showed now, his silver hair was unruly and long, a testament to his previous lifestyle. He decided then he’d have to get it cut properly, and have a nice a shave. Maybe even don new clothes. His armor had saved his life many times, and had served him well. But was there really any need for it anymore?

He tried to smile at his reflection, and thought he almost succeeded when his teeth showed. The realization that he had met more people in the past day than he had his entire life was disconcerting. All the people he had known in the past were all so different from each other, different from him. To all these people of this world, who all seemed very similar, he wondered how very different they saw him to be. Staring intently at his reflection, he ran a hand through his hair. His eyes weren’t the same as theirs, his hair, the set of his face, the pale color of his skin, all these were not the same. When everyone was different from everyone else… he fit in better then than he did now.

Footsteps sounded from behind him, becoming closer and closer. The approaching person was walking as quietly as they knew how, but his sharp ears heard them nonetheless. Thinking to turn the game around and catch them by surprise, he didn’t turn around and instead kept his eyes on the waters surface. So when the person finally did get close enough and stop behind him, he saw who it was. “Unless you’ve come to wash your dishes, which I doubt one such as you would have to do, may I ask what you’re doing out here, away from camp and so late at night…. your Highness?” He saw the surprise on her face from her reflection in the water.

“How did you know?”

Octair sighed to himself, careful not to let her hear it, and stood to face her. She was wearing her leather armor and had a leather helmet on her head, partially covering her features. “Know what?”

Princess Vivien crossed her arms and stared up at him with a frown on her face. It was then that Octair realized she was a head shorter than him. All of her royal attitude from before had kept him from realizing it, and most of that was gone now. After all, it wasn’t very lady-like to dress up in leathers and sneak out of camp in the middle of the night. “How did you know it was me? I’m wearing a disguise. Or how did you even know I was here? You didn’t turn around, and I was very careful about being quiet.”

He knew he was being rude by not addressing her properly and by not being humble like commoners should be towards those of higher birth. But he still didn’t entirely understand the rules and aspects of this world. “Tying your hair up and wearing a leather helm doesn’t do much to hide the grace in which you walk and the way you hold yourself. Nor does it really hide much of your features either. And you weren’t that quiet.” Octair moved off to the side a bit and knelt by the water again to finish cleaning his bowl and getting a drink.

She knelt next to him, a little too close for his comfort, and obviously wasn’t here for the water because she took no interest in it besides staring at it. “I was completely silent, I couldn’t even hear my own footsteps.”

This time he couldn’t hold his sigh in, and she perked an eyebrow in hearing it. “Yet none of this answers just why you’re here, m’lady.”

It was her turn to sigh, causing him to perk his own eyebrow. “Being… the king’s daughter isn’t as free as people believe it to be. It’s actually quite restricting, with many duties I have to do even if I don’t like to do them. Though I suppose that’s hardly special.” His questioning frown hurried her to explain further. “Sometimes I just need to focus on myself more.”

He wasn’t really questioning her, it was beyond rude to do such and was by far not his place to do so. But he supposed the princess had remained behind in the tent. When he stood he offered her his hand, more out of kindness than anything. She smiled softly and took it. “You know, there’s something different about you. And I don’t just mean your appearance, or your strength, or that you saved me. There’s something that just makes me want to… trust you.”

A grunt from him was all that he wanted to reply, but he said, “That’s odd.”

The two began to return to camp. “Am I the first to tell you this?” She watched as a sort of grim smile spread across his face when she asked him this, and it startled her that it shook her so much.

“No… I’d say you were the eighth.” The two said nothing more, even when he had accompanied her back to her tent could she not summon any words to speak, and he waited for none as he turned and strode off into the dark, wearing that same grim smile.