Moonlight dimly peaks through the roof-like lattice of thin branch's above. Washing the forest below in a blueish gradient. A light wind wailing through the large gaps between the trees.
The Sovereign Crane outstretching its wings to preen its feathers a bit incessantly. Likely doing so to take its mind off the pain ebbing from the wound on its head.
It actually feels truly peaceful out here for once. As if the forest itself could sense a conclusion to the immediate tension. Easing back in the common chorus of life throughout the area.
Which should put me more at ease. Normally it would. But with all that relief I felt from killing that bandit gone, something else comes in to fill the gap left behind. An ever expanding sense of dread and revulsion at the idea I could feel any form of good at ending someone's life. Even if they intended to do the same to me.
A very negative thought that I've been pressing tightly to the back of my mind these past few days keeps trying to surface and I don't have much energy to keep it down. Especially with some of what Dreyfus said ringing ominous bells in my head no matter how much I want to ignore them.
Thorpe moves in my peripheral. His spear and shield settled against one of the trees. Knelt next to the corpse of the bandit and picking through his gear. Taking out a few various pouches and some health potion tinctures before he grimaces at the object held in the man's right hand.
The old man reaches down and tries to pick it up but the moment his hand touches it he recoils as if slapped in the face. The object dropping back down into the dirt with a clatter. "Fuck! Ughh…now I've got a headache."
My brows furrow, clearing my throat. "Are you alright? What happened?"
Old Guard looks across at me and gives a passive wave while rubbing his forehead with his other hand. "I'm good. I'm alright. Sorry…just punishment for touching something I'm not supposed." Grabbing a stick from the ground and sticking it through a metal ring on the middle section of the object where a curved piece sticks out.
He lifts the object up to show it. It looks like a metal pipe fixed to a carved and polished piece of wood. Various metal bits screwed all over it. I'm not really sure what to make of it. "Is…is that what he hit me with?"
The old man's eyes widen. "You got shot?" Setting the weapon back down along with the stick before he swipes up the healing tinctures he collected. Stepping over the bandits corpse and grunts as he kneels down next to me. His eyes scanning me over with a serious level of concern. "Where'd you get hit?"
I move my hand away from where I had been pressing on my hip wound. "Right here. Made terrifying sounds…faster than I could ever dodge." A chill rolls down my spine just remembering it. As well as the memory of it tearing through my body.
The old man grimaces and leans over me. Delicately undoing all the ties and buckles of my gambeson and peeling it open. The unpleasant sound of blood sticking to cloth makes my nose wrinkle. My tunic is soaked red on my right side where the weapon hit. "What…is that thing?"
Old Guard pulls the right side of my tunic up to check the wound. "It's called a flintlock. There are a few weapons like it and some of them are ALOT worse. Mercs tend to call them 'Flash Rods' or 'Boom Sticks'. Bandits on the southern coast love them. We got lucky he didn't have a musket or god forbid a blunderbuss." He explains quietly while rolling me up a bit to look at the other side of the wound. "Good. It went all the way through. Having to dig out the ball is not fun."
I have to grit my teeth as he squeezes the wound. "Not fun…getting hit…either." Finally breathing out when he lets go.
Thorpe gives me an apologetic look. "Sorry about that. You might have pieces of the round stuck in there and sometimes even a healers draught won't eject them properly." Sighing a bit as he takes one of the healing tinctures and uncorks it, pouring the substance around and into the wound. "But we don't have a Doctor so we'll just have to deal with it and hope anything stuck in there comes back out on it's own."
I nod slowly, sighing in relief as the pain subsides considerably. "What did you mean when you said it was a punishment?" I ask curiously while he cleans up the wound. The healing potion staving off the bleeding for now.
Old Guard pockets the glass tincture and covers me back up, buckling my gambeson a bit tighter than before to put more compression on the area. "Well…you know what happens when you try to use a tool that isn't compatible with your class?"
I nod, immediately knowing what he is leading to. "Your head gets all fuzzy and makes you confused. It's really uncomfortable." Shifting my arms back to slowly lift myself up to a sitting position, Thorpe placing a hand on my back to help me. "So I guess it's something you can't use. But you reacted like it hurt you to even touch it."
Thorpe loops his right arm under my knees and lifts me up as he stands. Groaning a bit from the effort. "That's because it did. The sensation is much worse than usual. Flash pipes are under type of tools the church considers 'cursed' or 'unholy'. Which basically just means it wasn't made by human hands." The old man takes a few deep breaths as he carries me over to the bandits body. Or at least…where it's supposed to be. Both of us furrowing our brows as we stare at the empty spot where the bandits body was. Thorpe opening his mouth likely to comment about its whereabouts until a crunch is heard above. Followed by a severed hand dropping down in front of us.
Both of us glancing upwards to see the Sovereign Crane in the process of horking it down. Watching in uncomfortable silence as the Crane eats. The creature gagging and coughing a bit as the corpse enters its throat. The lump of it inching down its long slender neck before it vanishes into it's body
Thorpe clears his throat to break the awkward silence. "I forgot…how fucken quiet they are." He comments while taking a knee. "Grab those for me." Casually gesturing towards the strewn pouches and items he picked out of the bandits gear.
I nod slowly and reach out to pluck the items off the ground and settle them into my lap. Just looks like some miscellaneous consumables. Only thing left laying on the ground is the Flintlock and Thorpe is starting to raise back up, obviously not expecting me to grab it.
But I can't help myself. I bite my lip and just reach for it. Gripping onto the metal rod portion with my right hand.
Almost instantly a shock rocks up my arm and my head whips to the side into Thorpe's chin. The old man grunting in response and falling back onto his butt. My arm locks up and a sharp pain erupts at front of my brain. And my right hand instinctively let's go as if it had touched a burner on a stove.
Once the weapon leaves my hand the horrible sensation stops but the aftershocks of it stay for a few more seconds. "Ughhh…that was…awful."
The old man snorts and laughs. "Yeah…pretty bad huh?" He remarks with a surprisingly bright smile on his face.. "Welp. I was kinda half expecting for you to be able to use it but I guess we just found your first boundary."
The way he says 'boundary' sounds somewhat positive. And I honestly have to agree. I was kind of terrified that I'd be able to use it. "That's...good to know. Makes it a lot less overwhelming I guess." I admit with a weak smile back.
The old man nods. "That it does." He states before giving a stern look. "Maybe that'll help you stop thinking you're cursed, yeah?"
I purse my lips at that as he is raising back up to a stand. I should have figured he'd seen through me like that. It is something I've been trying to avoid thinking about but ever since learning more about them it's been hard not to draw parallels with the [Bandit] class. Especially when Dreyfus had pointed it out as well.
I mean it might not be exact but as far as I can tell I steal skills from the things I kill just like they can. And no other regular class can do that from what Thorpe says. Even if mine come from monsters and not people it's still a frightening thought.
And who knows. Maybe I can get them from people…but I hope I never find out.
I shake my head, a frown forming across my lips as Thorpe starts making his way out of the area. "You noticed?" I ask quietly, giving a weak wave to the Sovereign Crane who tilts its head to watch us go before lightly bowing.
Old Guard adjusts me in his arms, sighing a little. "It's less like I noticed and more like I already figured you would be thinking that to begin with." He admits, giving me a glance. "It's why I was so apprehensive to tell you about them. I had already noticed the similarities but I didn't really pay them much mind. And I didn't want you to either."
My face scrunches up a bit but I can't really refute that even if I hate having important info kept from me. "That's fair…I guess."
The old man gives me an apologetic smile. "I promise to be more transparent in the future. You are going to be 13 in a few weeks. You don't need me to baby you. You've proven to be very capable of handling yourself."
I gave him a slightly pouty expression but I let him off the hook. At least for now. I am much too exhausted to really argue about it. But something he said a few minutes ago pops back up in my head. "You said that Flash Pipes are cursed because they weren't made by human hands. Then who made them?" I know there are a couple non-human people on the Grand but I've never seen them before. Just read about them.
Old Guard gives a low hum. "They are built by the 'Dwiyte'. Stocky subterranean mole folk who are good at inventing things. Their eyes aren't so good but they get around by feeling vibrations in the earth with their feet and the weird finger things on their noses. They dig tunnel networks under hills and in mountains." He explains, kicking a few sticks aside as he walks. "The Church classifies them as higher monsters but people smarter than me think they've been here longer than us. You don't see them here in the Central region much and not at all up north near the Capital. Their colonies are all down south and since normal folk can't use their tools they only people they can sell too are Bandit clans. And the coastal clans are their biggest customer."
My eyes are fully focused on Thorpe as he talks, fully enthralled by the topic. I think I've heard them mentioned in a couple books but they never really went into detail. "So...are they cursed if they make cursed items?"
Thorpe tilts his head side to side, looking like he's trying to figure how best to explain it. "I wouldn't say that they are cursed. At least they don't seem to have classes like we do or even like Bandits do. They just sort of exist outside of the purview of Gods system. There are a rare few out there like that and their all pretty weird."
"So doesn't like them because of that?"
He grunts and rolls his eyes. "The Church doesn't like a lot of things. Most of their colonies stick to themselves but there are good reasons to be cautious of Dwiyte if you see them outside of their colonies. Of course because some of them work with the Bandit clans. But they also breed 'Vulkar', which I am sure you have heard of by now."
I grimace and nod. Pretty much every village has had run in's with Vulkar. Small hairless bipedal rat monsters that can use simple weapons. Bands of them attack our cattle and caravans every few years. Not too difficult for the guards to deal with but I've heard they breed really quickly and if they are left unchecked they can turn into hordes which are incredibly bad. "Why would they breed those things?"
Thorpe shrugs. "Vulkar communicate through pheromones that the Dwiyte seem to be able to mimic. So they use them to work in their colonies digging tunnels, gathering things, manual labor type stuff. But if those colonies collapse or the Dwiyte controlling them dies for some reason...then you have a whole horde of confused Vulkar left to deal with. So Mercs sometimes get sent to deal with them if they get too close to a village or something."
I nodded along as the conversation devolved into discussing more Merc related stuff. Taking it slow back to the bandits camp while talking, which gave me a great perspective at just how far away I made it.
Pretty damn far is the answer. But even with my [Leap Stride] those two bandits in the cloaks were able to keep up with me. Just goes to show I can't be too reliant on special skills. Which I'm pretty sure was the last lesson Thorpe was trying to beat into Leone before he left. So I guess I've caught up…
The potent smell of blood alerted me before we even stepped foot into the camp. Thorpe's expression getting hard to read as he pulled me closer to himself. "Prepare yourself…"
I nod, taking a few deep breaths and try to psych myself up but there isn't a whole lot I can really do to prepare for what we are now walking into.
And as expected it doesn't really help much at all…
There are few words better to describe the scene other than 'Carnage'. Several of the tents are collapsed. The spit roasting boat has been knocked over and now lays in the dirt rife with ants. The large fire is still somewhat active but half of its kindling has been scattered out across the camp.
The bodies of the 8 bandits that fought Old Guard are anything but intact. Each of them strewn about the area with severed pieces of them in places not even near the people they were once attached to. A couple of the bodies have their innards exposed and spilling out. Blood is splattered over the tents and massed in large puddles around the corpses. The metallic red glinting from the fire light.
I am glad it's still dark or else I'm sure it'd look even worse. But the sight isn't even the worst part. It's the smell. Not just the blood, but the stench of what ever else spilled out of them. I almost vomit before we even cross the threshold but all that comes out is a dry heave.
Old Guard gives a brief pained expression. "Sorry. We won't stay here long. Just need to get a few things." He assures quietly, walking me across camp and approaching the bandits wagon with all their supplies on it. But to my surprise there is someone still alive sitting curled up next to it. The scrawny old man with the shock white hair.
Getting a better look at him now his white hair would likely reach almost to his shoulders if it wasn't frayed and spiked out as if he'd been struck by lightning. He has a bit of gray stubble around his face but it doesn't seem like facial hair is really his strong suit. Every part of his skin is wrinkled and somewhat grey in tone with his tunic and trousers hanging off him very loosely. His eyes are sunken in and hard to make out in the low light. His chin is squarish with a mouth that appears to curve down naturally. He looks like the life has been sucked out of him.
Thorpe sets me down on the edge of the small wagon and reaches into the stash of weapons inside. My eyes light up as the old man holds up my sword still in its sheathe. My hands instantly grabbing for it and clutching it against my chest. A soothing sensation washing over me as I grip the hilt and feel the grooves where my fingers have nicely formed into the leather beneath the red wrapping.
Thorpe ruffles my hair and sighs, letting the quiet settle in for a moment before he looks to the elderly man sitting nearby who I am still cautiously glancing at. "Liore…this is Teovar. He is not a bandit. He was their indentured Cook. And he's going to be traveling back to the village with us."
Teovar looked genuinely surprised at that. His eyes widening as he stood up shakily. "Y…you don't need…to do that. I can make my own way. You already freed me, I can't ask for better than that." His voice is strained and gravely, sounding similar to some of the elders in the village who smoke pipes all the time. His accent sounds like Mama's and I suppose sort of mine as well. Mama calls it a brogue. Which must mean he's from out east like her.
Old Guard holds up a hand passively to the elder. "I cannot in good conscience leave you out here alone. Our village is the closest one possible out here and we are still way too deep in the Ardennes. It is not any trouble to let you come with us."
The elder frowns even harder than he seems to do naturally, his expression conflicted. "I just…I don't want to be a burden on ya. You already got hurt cause of me."
I frown at that. The bandits must have tried to use him for him cover. Guess I can't really be surprised by that. I clear my throat. "He just wants to make sure you're safe. We're not going to keep you there. Once you get some rest in the village you can leave whenever you want."
Old Guard smiles lightly and gestures to me with his thumb. "What she said. You are not a captive. We're just two village guards making sure a civilian gets to a safe place. That's all."
Teovar looks over to me, seeming a bit surprised for a moment before his expression softens some but still appears troubled. Nodding his understanding. "Thank you…kindly." Lowering himself back down to sit.
Thorpe gives a nod to me before he moves off to go collect things. Focusing on survival supplies from around the camp to use on the journey back.
I tuck into myself on the back of the wagon while I wait. Trying to keep myself awake. I don't think I can sleep just yet. At least until we are far enough away from this awful stench.
But I guess I don't exactly smell any better…
Teovar watches Thorpe scouring around the camp for a bit before he glances up towards me. "Your friend there fights like a demon. Only ever seen Highwayman fight like that." He comments, pointing a gnarled finger out at Thorpe.
I can't help but smile a little, nodding a bit proudly. "That would make sense. He's a veteran. So he's fought hundreds of real demons."
The elder doesn't look all that surprised given what he's probably seen. "Ah..." He pauses for a moment, turning his attention to the bodies nearby. "They never stood a chance then…not in an open fight." He scans over the corpses strewn around the camp. A melancholic look forming in his eyes. Giving Dreyfus's body an even longer stare.
I watch him curiously for a few minutes. Noticing some trace of tears lining his eyelids. "Were you with them for a while?" I ask quietly. Already getting a sense of the answer seeing more of the raw emotion taking over the elder. The shock of his sudden rescue likely finally subsiding and sinking in.
Teovar took a slow breath and a moment of extra quiet before responding. "Almost 20 years I think. 11 with Dreyfus's group." He admits, tilting his head towards the ground and wiping the tears from his eyes. "They were all…horrible people." He states plainly. "Seen them all do things I've never been able to forget."
He is quiet for a moment, eyes searching the dirt pensively. "But…I've known most of this lot since they were just children. Dreyfus especially. They used to call me Grandpa. Some still did…" His hands covering up his eyes. "I watched them grow up…get put through the ringer…the innocence ironed out of them. Get their first kills...devolving into monsters." A sniffle escapes from him, rubbing at his eyes even harder. "But I can't think straight…I want to hate them. But I can't…"
For a moment I just watch him quietly. Unsure of what I should even say.
The Elder grit his teeth, his body trembling. "I was a slave to them...but they were all I had. I don't have any other family. And I helped raise them..." His voice strains, losing himself as the tears leak between his fingers.
My heart sinks watching him. Sharing the painfully conflicting feelings. These people abused him for a good chunk of his life. He really should hate them.
But they were the only people he knew. Some of them might have even still cared about him. They were the closest to family he had. And he just watched them all die. Even if they might have deserved it.
I shift myself off the back of the carriage. My legs wobble some before I step over to Teovar and kneel down next him while setting my sword into the grass. Then simply wrapping my arms around the elders midsection. Hugging him gently. His frail form feeling like it will snap so easily even under my exhausted strength.
It's the least that I can do. Probably the only thing.
I hold him while he works through the tears for the next few minutes. Only letting go once he finally starts to breath easier and lifts himself to sit upright. And despite the sadness still apparent, at least he looks a lot less ragged.
He wipes his face onto his loose tunic. "Thank ya lass. I appreciate the warmth." He says, giving me an appreciative look.
I smile lightly back and wave my hand passively. "Of course. You looked like you needed it."
Teovar takes a deep breath and nods. "Definitely so. I've had little true kindness for decades now. I was indentured to Dreyfus's parents before and was passed down to him when he came of age. And neither of them were particularly kind. Drey was at least gentler with me than his folks were. But not by much."
My interest does peak a bit at the mention of a Bandit village. I am kind of curious how they actually operate. But not really the time for it so I'll save it for later. "I didn't exactly get a good impression of him." I admit.
The elder chuckles a bit wryly. "He was a piece of work. Cruel, manipulative, and ambitious…even before we had to leave the coast he imagined himself the next clan leader."
Thorpe grunts as he returns to us, his upper body now covered with a new tunic and leather armor to replace his lost gambeson. A couple stuffed travel packs hanging from his back. "I've seen too many of his type to know they never end well."
Teovar sighs. "It likely wouldn't have. But no use dwelling on it now."
Old Guard raises his hands out and his spear and shield materializes into them in a flash of golden light. I forgot he had left them back where the Sovereign Crane was so he could carry me.
Really wishing my sword could do that…
Thorpe looks between us. "I'm ready to go. I wanna try to cover as much ground as we can before we bed down. At least until we get as far away as we can from this fresh buffet."
I'm thankful he was thinking the same thing as me. "Right…yeah I'd rather not get eaten. I've scene what that looks like now." Reaching down a hand to the elder cook and helping him to his feet.
Teovar takes my hand gladly and raises up to do one last scan around the camp before giving us a nod. "I'm…I'm ready."
With that, Thorpe had retrieved what was left of the bottle of Healers Draught he brought for the trip. And both of us take a swig before we set off. And that was about as fun as I'd expected.
Which is not at all.
But once we were healed up and out of the painful aches we stepped back into the forest proper and finally got back on the trail home with no further interruptions.