GRAVE DIGGER
With godspeed, I made my way out of Damattis. Newttis was not in this region, yet it was the location to which I must journey. The residential area was silent; most had gone to sleep. Stealing a horse in this area could be bothersome.
I headed for the market where the streets would still be filled. True enough, as I got there, the streets were still lively. But now, the number of those Firehawks had increased. I could see two on the street I was standing on.
I've changed my clothes, no? And they only saw my back. They could probably only catch me here if I made suspicious movements. Yes, I had made the decision to be bold tonight. If it failed, I would not likely escape this time.
There were horses in front of a shop called "Rooster's Roast." As I came from inside an alleyway, I proceeded to the black mare closest to the Firehawk.
"Even a soldier should have fun sometimes, eh?" I said jokingly, to which the soldier smiled. "The roosters are well roasted. And the wine? Just minutes ago I went into that alleyway to piss. Can't say I don't regret pissing away wine so good."
The Firehawk looked at me with a hint of anger before replying
"You should be on your way, civilian. I am short on patience, and you seem to be one to take out a lot," he said as he removed his helmet to fix the loose strapping.
I silently obliged the man and then mounted the black mare. I couldn't have imagined my escape would have been so easy. But it didn't even matter. In truth, Newttis was always the place where their great search would occur. One would think I would travel somewhere else, but Newttis is where all my gold is. Can't leave my gold behind.
The journey to Newttis was relatively quiet and loud at the same time. The quiet of the Damattis road during the night made me lonely. But the hoofbeats of horses carved fear into me. Maybe the Firehawks were pursuing me.
After a long ride, I finally reached Helstyr—the region where Newttis was located. Helstyr itself was not poor. Except for Damattis, it was on par with the other regions of Central Velecor when it came to development. And luckily for them, Newttis was at the edge of Helstyr.
A man like me, a thief, a Newttisian, was no longer allowed passage through the Damattis road. To reach my destination, I had to avoid the rich urban cities of Helstyr.
This was the legacy of Lord Benkny Mlowver. To curb the actions of the city of Newttis, he made a passage system whereby passes of different grades were granted to people. I, for one, could only travel directly to Newttis, even if by another road. The Clovis knew of our segregation but did nothing. At least all are welcome in Damattis; even the Lords of Helstyr cannot deny us that right.
But alas, for men like me, there were ways to enter one of these cities. But I was not sure it was right to even go. Where would the Firehawks find it easier to track me? A rich city where the citizens were sure to comply, or a chaotic city where compliance could only be obtained through force? From the beginning, home was always my destiny.
I took the road that divided towards the right. But after a while, the black mare looked tired. Perhaps its owner had run it down without caring for it enough. It continued to gallop at half its original speed, and for some reason I could feel the wind changing. Luckily, we came across a green lush and a small lake to wash the grass down.
I too needed the rest. And after we regained a little energy, we continued our journey. I wondered what calibre of men would be chasing me. That was my last thought as I slumped and fell face-first onto the horse's mane. It was like a pillow, good enough for a man like me who loved sleep and slept whenever sleep called. The cold breeze of the night and my three days without sleep probably had something to do with it.
-----
A bright light came upon my face and forced me to open my eyes. It was the damn sun.
'Tis morning already? I wondered, but panic replaced my curiosity.
Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?
I searched madly. We seemed to be on elevated land. I used both hands to clean my eyes and face. As I did, the horse neighed and stopped abruptly as if it too were half asleep.
After the tension ended, the walls of Newttis were the first thing I saw. It was unmistakable. The wall was painted by various local artists with shit and paint. To me, it was better than that golden wall in Damattis—even if I had never seen it.
We galloped at full speed through the open gates. Quickly, I hurried to my house. The dilapidated structure still held since the time my great-grandfather built it with whatever he had. The broken windows, the broken roofs, walls painted with shit and blood. Ah, home.
As I entered, four people sat in my living room. A girl and three men. The woman was dressed in beautiful black-and-bronze battle armour. The men all wore hoods and were dressed in black.
"Welcome, Fenris," the girl said.
How did she even know my name?
"Fear not, I mean you no harm. Any enemy of the Clovis is a friend of mine," she said with an endearing smile. "Soon, Emon Clovis and Leolyn Blaran will knock on your door. Be rest assured, you'll be here to answer it. I will use you to teach the young Prince a lesson about life."
Wha... Emon Clovis? I haven't done anything to warrant that kind of attention. From the looks of things, Leolyn is related to Oswald. But how could I be of help to her? I feel like an ant playing in the midst of giants. And also, why couldn't I sense them?
She brought out something from a pouch on her trousers. A white or ash-coloured orb that seemed to be drawing lifeforce out of the four of them constantly.
"This imbued tool allows us to mask our presence. In exchange, we feed it with our lifeforce. Only those who continuously give it lifeforce will be masked by it. Which means when they come, you'll be an easy find," she said in assurance.
The next hour was dreadful. The silent threats made me attempt escape at one point. A dagger to the throat was a reminder of my situation.
She asked me to perform my divine trait. Specifically, she asked me to make Oswald Blaran's heart into a finished product.
After I had done it, aggressive hoofbeats approached from outside. I peeped through the window to see only two men. One had grey hair that flowed to his shoulders and the other had blue hair. The one with blue hair rode more fiercely than the grey-haired one.
I calmed my breath, but I was also happy. There were only two men pursuing me.
The hoofbeats stopped, and after some time, the door flew from its hinges. Two young men, probably around the same age as this girl, appeared sword in hand. Immediately, the grey-haired one froze after seeing the woman.
"You!..." he said.
The woman reciprocated with a smile.
"It has been a while, Emon Clovis," she said as she finally relaxed her face.
Emon Clovis? High Prince Emon Clovis? Heir to the Gyrspine, Emon Clovis? My pursuer is the High Prince and a King. The thrill of the moment was so high that I burst into laughter.
Not minding me, she removed her eyes from the High Prince and walked towards the son of Oswald Blaran.
"Leolyn, I have a proposal for you. Trust me, it will be worth your while," she said as she ushered him towards a chair.
The High Prince was left standing, closely watched by the three hooded men who now stood behind him and blocked the door. He must have had questions. How did I not sense them? What did they want with Leolyn? Why were they even here? I had similar questions too, so I understood.
The High Prince studied the three men behind him. He took a step forward, but their reaction was quick and aggressive. They drew their blades. In compliance with their desire, he stopped himself and withdrew his leg.
"Imbuing a divine trait into an object is a unique skill, so they say. But two in ten blessed individuals can do it. That's too many," the High Prince said with a sad smile.
"In Velecor, especially in Central Velecor, the Emperor tried to contain the sale and making of them, but a few were already in circulation. As we well know, he seized all imbued tools from non-nobles and non-Knights in Central Velecor," the High Prince rambled on. "I assume it is also rare in Erenwald, Vestelle, Nordmere, and Thalbruck. We mu—"
The High Prince was cut off by the lady.
"Emon, quit the rambling," said the lady.
Rambling. It seems I called what he was doing rabbling. It seems the High Prince is aware that an imbued tool is being used.
She now placed her gaze on Leolyn, who looked at her curiously.
"Contained in this vial is blood from your father's heart mixed with this man's divine trait. It is yours should you wish it."
Her words brought a sparkle to the young King's eyes.
He gazed at her hesitantly but then gave a shout as if accepting defeat. He looked at me for confirmation. I nodded in an assuring manner. The High Prince gave him a quizzical look, but it seemed Leolyn couldn't even return it.
"I'll take it. I'll take it," Leolyn said shamefully.
The High Prince made a move to reach Leolyn, but the three men restrained him. From the ground, he gave Leolyn a look that bordered on concern and fear for his friend.
The lady picked up the vial from a table and gave it to Leolyn. Leolyn looked at the High Prince again, but this time with an assured look. He drank the contents of the vial, and a yellowish light shone from around his chest. Leolyn seemed different, and the way he acted made it obvious he was different.
The lady smiled after the success of the transfer. She walked closer to Leolyn. She narrated the events that led to the collapse and capture of Dornwick in detail—something only people in the inner circle of Dornwick's leadership would have known.
"I would give you Dornwick and my hand in marriage. In return, you would join our side," she said in a welcoming manner.
Leolyn's eyes became wet.
"Y-you'll give me D-Dornwick back?" he asked.
"Yes, and to legitimise it, I'll wed you," she said matter-of-factly.
Leolyn gave the High Prince another one of those shameful looks, but Emon's eyes were only focused on the ground.
"I accept," Leolyn replied as he clenched his fists.
"You're a fool, Leolyn. You can't become Velecor's enemy while your House is held hostage there," shouted Emon from the ground.
Leolyn gave the lady a questioning look, but she didn't flinch.
"You're the fool, Emon. Your only usefulness here is to serve as a hostage for which I would exchange Leolyn's House members."
Emon looked shocked and defeated afterwards. Tears began to roll from Leolyn's left eye too, but he wiped them away quickly.
"Take him," the beautiful lady ordered.
Immediately, one of the men used the hilt of his sword to strike Emon's head. The High Prince raised his head to look at Leolyn, perhaps one last time. Emon's face was wet with tears, regret, and anger.
Leolyn couldn't stand his glare for more than a second. He turned to the right and began to cry too. This time, he let the tears run their course instead of wiping them away.
Emon's consciousness began to fade, and the sadness on his face deepened as he closed his eyes. Maybe he wanted to see his friend's face one last time. Maybe he wanted to pass one last message. But now that was impossible. The heir to the Gyrspine now lay unconscious, unmoving.
The fall of Dornwick was months ago. Was that enough time to have formed this kind of bond?
I don't think they cried for the bond they had. They cried for the bond they could have had. Maybe it is like the case of a child dying in the womb after just a month.
A quick whisper in the wind made me remove my gaze from the High Prince. A sword was approaching my head at a speed I couldn't dodge. I could see strands of blue hair too.
Finally, has death come for me too? After all, I desecrated his father's corpse.
What would men say when they hear the name Fenris? I suppose I'll never find out.
Thankfully, my death would be quick.