PART 1 – THE WALKER (Trussum, 3rd person)
The sun was rising over Delizy when Trussum left the shepherd's farm.
The night had been short. He had slept in the barn, covered by a thick woollen blanket, the smell of sheep and hay filling his dreams. The shepherd, old and wary, had offered him tea and bread for breakfast.
"Are you really going to the academy, boy?"
"I am."
"On foot?"
"I like to walk."
The shepherd scratched his grey beard. He looked at the traveller's red hair, at his grey eyes that seemed not to reflect the light.
"You're strange."
"I am."
Trussum took the bread and cheese, put them in his cloth bag. He said goodbye with a wave.
The road to Derys was wide, lined with blue and red pines whose leaves glowed with mana at their tips. The sun warmed his back. The wind carried the smell of wet earth.
He walked for hours.
He passed a merchant transporting barrels of wine on a cart. The man offered him a ride, but Trussum refused. He preferred to walk. He preferred to see.
He passed a family of peasants heading to market. The mother carried a baby in her arms, the father pulled a donkey loaded with sacks. The children stared at Trussum's red hair with wide eyes.
"Are you a prince?" asked the youngest.
"I am a traveller."
"Your hair is pretty."
"Thank you."
The family moved on. Trussum continued.
At noon, he stopped at a tavern by the roadside. It was a low building of dark stone, with a painted sign: "The Fallen Warrior". Inside, men in dirty tunics and dented armour drank beer and spoke loudly.
Trussum asked for water. He sat in a corner, watching.
"The war is going to start," said a bearded man. "The Contraranures have already taken two villages in the south."
"And the demon lord?" asked another. "The one who came out of the portal?"
"Trussum. No one knows where he is."
"They say he disguises himself as a human."
"All lords disguise themselves. That's what they do."
"This one is different. No one knows what he does. Only that he lies."
A woman in a dirty apron interrupted:
"Does he lie well?"
"He lies like a poet."
Trussum smiled inwardly. He drank the water.
"And the chosen ones?" the woman continued. "The duke's daughter? The boy from Macano?"
"The duke's daughter is a beast. They say she killed a monster all by herself. The boy... he lost a duel yesterday. They humiliated him."
"He's a slave, isn't he? Doesn't know how to hold a sword."
"That's what I was told."
"What a disappointment."
"Indeed."
Trussum stood up. He paid for the water with a copper coin. He left without looking back.
The road to Derys continued.
---
The sun was beginning to set when Trussum spotted the port of Derys. The towers of the academy, pale in the distance, gleamed in the light of dusk. The sea mirrored the red and purple sky.
He did not enter the academy. He would enter the next day.
He looked for a modest inn on the outskirts of the village. The owner was a fat man with a stained apron, who received him with disdain.
"A room for one night. Five copper coins."
"Accepted."
"Dinner?"
"No."
"A bath?"
"Also no."
"You're strange."
"I am."
The room was small, with a narrow bed and a window overlooking the backyard. Trussum sat on the bed. He opened his cloth bag. The Trásserius flowers glowed in the half-darkness, black as holes.
He put them away.
He looked out the window. The academy, there in the distance. The chosen ones, asleep. The gods, watching.
"Tomorrow," he murmured. "Tomorrow I begin."