Eragos Feareborne (proscribed) wrote in adusta, @ 2009-07-05 20:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | eragos feareborne, knights, vera of beit-orane |
hope (vera)
Each jostling of the wagon, brought on by poorly made wheels which seemed more square than round reminded Eragos of the pain that he was in. Even if the healing had worked he was still swathed in bandages. Those and the exhaustion creeping through his limbs made him unable to do more than grunt sourly when another rough patch was struck by the driver, who seemed perpetually in search of them. It was an oddity to his eyes but probably a necessity. Covered on all sides, including top and back. Really a box that was drawn by horses with a driver outside of it. This was no way to travel; he wanted to be able to breath in cool and flowing air. Instead he was staring at the toes of his boots and wondering whether or not they were going to make it to the capitol this way. The four of them, a king and a princess and a lady and a mercenary, were not precisely the most suited to avoiding notice.
"Take the last," the king instructed his daughter with an offer of the pouch.
She paused for a long moment before accepting the pouch, and then looked in Eragos' direction. "You've not eaten a thing, Sir Feareborne."
Telling her that he'd given up his titles was more than she deserved to know. People in the south were always eager to make excuses, or to imagine a world in which such actions were defensible. Eragos did not want to live in that world. He did not want to know why it was all right to slay the creature he'd sworn to protect. He shook his head instead of saying anything. Her mouth set in a thin line, determined he supposed to argue until he swallowed a bit of the wretched cured meat that she had in her hands. He would, Eragos thought, rather starve. And most likely would if he did not take any of it. There was little enough light in the back of the wagon. Just enough to make out her glistening eyes and her sour face. If he told her that she had a sour face, would she stop trying to use that expression on him? It did not work.
"You have to eat something."
"I ate yesterday."
"You slept yesterday."
"In my dreams, then."
The king snorted a laugh. This experience was changing them, all of them, perhaps fostering comfort too convenient to ignore but also challenging their perceptions of one another. Before Eragos had called her Lady Cithia at every opportunity. No matter how small. Before the king had been a humorless creature in the face of sarcasm. Before, Lady Cithia had known nothing of how to care for a person. What was it that the Lady Vera was changing? She would always be that in his mind. No matter how much changed, no matter how many times they saved each others' lives. She would always be the Lady Vera and he would always wonder how she found him to have any honor at all. This time, when she offered the pouch, Eragos selected one of the larger pieces. It was mostly fat, he thought, but it would give him something to chew for a while. She might be comforted by watching him chew.
"You killed his best knight," the king finally said into the darkness. "His best. Did you know, during the war, I must have sent a dozen retainers... all of them were killed in duels with that fellow. You killed him without blinking."
Killed. He used the word so casually. Eragos flinched as he might from a flung stone, and little wonder, as often as he heard the word in the throats of men he'd killed. It was no small thing, what this king said. The energy that it took was... but they did not appear to have a choice. Being alive or taking them alive. That was the choice, and only one could be picked. Valos said it best with a sword raised above his head, ten men before him, pleading for their lives.
"Today I bested ten," he murmured. "Tomorrow you'll return with twenty."
"What?" the king said, though he'd been leaning close enough to catch the words.
"So today I killed ten, and tomorrow I shall nap near midday."
"That's a soldier's saying," the king was almost accusatory. "And you, claiming you were none. Have you ever been to Tyrus, boy?"
Eragos blinked away his surprise. Tyrus. It was just to the south of Aetherius. He'd been there many times. But it was his father's saying, was it not? Had Valos been a soldier of Tyrus before the life that claimed his heart? Eragos would have liked to meet that man. Before grim battle and endless blood hardened him. Perhaps he was softer. Perhaps he played the flute. Eragos placed the piece of meet in his mouth to avoid answering until he saw the fixed and hopeful gaze in the king's eyes. It wasn't right to ignore the man. He was starting to reassert himself, to show his daughter how to assert herself without alienating those that served, and he owed it to the king to encourage that development. Even if 'boy' was not the most polite thing that a king could call a man. Was he not a boy? Or at least, in face if not in spirit. Eragos tried to remember the last birthing day he'd experienced and failed.
Gristle. He nearly spit out the beef. Changed his mind when he noticed Cithia staring at him, as well.
"Many times," Eragos replied.
"I wish I'd had you in my company five years ago," the king returned quickly. "Things might have been..."
Different. If their attack had not stalled, they might have won. Apparently he thought of what that meant when he said it. They might have won. Malondir might have been wiped out, and possibly along with Astora. Eragos wondered if he felt it as keenly as everyone else did in that moment. Weight of death all around. Eragos did not know how to reply to that, so he did not, and instead focused on his chewing. It was easier than pretending he wished he were in the king's company ten years ago. A lot of stragglers and mercenaries. He'd seen the king's company. He'd fought many of them, killed most of them, and they were nothing special or elite. This peace was not just about stopping the violence. It was about knowing that he would lose if the war went on. Eragos wanted to ask about that, but she saved him the trouble.
"...different?" Lady Cithia demanded harshly. "How many more would we have lost? This man has almost spent his life for us three times, and he doesn't even..."
"What would you have me do?" her father's voice was a gruesome rasp. "Hope that a marriage is enough?"
"What would you have done in his place, Lady Vera?" and Cithia's voice was cool.
Part of him was afraid that this would escalate. Part of him was interested to see what the Lady Vera had to say on the subject.