I could almost feel the stab of three pairs of eyes as they watched us emerge from the stone maw of the church.
I turned to look at the pair of men about to disturb the covered bed of our cart, wearing my best Almian, and raised my voice just enough to be heard over the spattering rain.
"I would strongly advise you to leave the tarp in place, friends — or prepare to return home with bright red vestments and hair," I said, my hands raised in welcome, but also to show they were empty, as I began to approach — Felix wearing his best smile, steady behind me.
"We already are home," the older man standing to the right of the cart yelled back.
"So I'll paint myself whatever I please," he continued, his eyes narrowing.
"Be my guest, then, friend. If cinnabar mud is what you're looking for, removing this tarp will provide you with plenty," I called back to him, extending my arm in a mock invitation.
The man's hand hesitated above the tarp before the sound of footsteps squelching through the mud interrupted us, drawing our quartet's attention to the owner of the boots that produced it.
"Leave their cart alone, Akeman — or you'll be the one to explain to old Ismay why her white linens turned pink on their way back to her," the man said, his guttural laugh cutting through the rainfall like a drum.
He did not look much older than me, though I could not be certain. His thick brown beard and the green cloak pulled over his head obscured just enough of his features to leave me unsure, while the deep lines carved into his forehead spoke of a hard past, if not of many years.
"What brings you to Pietrano, friends?" the man asked, his hands resting on his hips, just above the wooden hilts of the hand axes hanging from his belt.
"We have been traveling the mountain roads to reach Arventis, but the skies decided we should spend some time in your village," I replied, and moved closer to him.
The man he had called Akeman, along with the younger lad on the other side of the cart, stepped in to close the distance to their leader in response — and I could hear Felix's movements tense behind me.
The bearded man signaled with a relaxed palm for them to stay put, then moved to meet me, weighing me as he closed in.
"And from where has your journey started, friend?" he asked, stopping a few paces away from us.
"Lappurum, sir," I replied, and watched his brow rise in surprise.
"In that case, it would be unnecessary for me to excuse our village's cold welcome — if what we have heard is true," he said, less a statement than a challenge for me to navigate.
I glanced back at the red paint slowly washing away beneath the heavy rain, the words bleeding crimson across the stone-paved ground.
I raised my right hand and hooked my thumb back toward it.
"They did come," I said to him, and let out a sigh.
His bearded face drew together in acknowledgment, and he nodded thoughtfully, one hand combing through the brown hairs along his cheek.
"That could explain a lot about you being here, friend — but certainly not enough. Let's not waste any more time under this piss-poor sky, and move under a roof so you two can tell me more about your travels," he finally said after a short while.
The thought of leaving our cart alone with his men — and, more troubling still, the church open for them to introduce themselves — made me cast a hard look toward Felix before I responded to my axe-bearing discussant.
"Would it be much for me to ask that my fellow here stay and keep company with your men?" I asked, offering Felix forward with a pat on the back. His nod as he turned to face me during the push confirmed that he shared my concerns as well.
"I could offer a roof wide enough for all of us, friend — don't worry about that. The rest of my people should already be back under their own roofs, so there is no need for the three of them to share what we could enjoy. Am I right, Tormod?" the burly man said, pointing across the cart toward the younger, lank lad standing opposite the one he had called Akeman.
I found myself cornered by my own concern and a stranger's generosity.
"In that case, let us see this roof you are offering… excuse me, but it appears you have not shared your name with us," I said, and began to walk closer to him.
"Neither have you, friend," he replied, moving as well to meet my approach.
"I'm Marcus," I said, extending my right hand.
"And I'm Theron — very pleased with the introduction, southerner," he said, grasping my forearm in a strangely familiar manner of greeting. He continued, "But let's move now. If we keep exchanging pleasantries out here, you'll have me believing you're a cypress tree instead of a traveling merchant. Come on."
With a heavy hand, he patted my back and urged me forward with him, away from the bruised skies.
I cast a quick glance back at the stone walls that hid my companions, then filled my lungs with the chill air and followed Theron's lead.
Felix caught up to me as we walked toward the roof Theron had promised, carefully bumping his shoulder against mine to draw my attention.
"What did that man tell you, Praefectus?" he asked quietly.
"In short," I said, waiting for a few more steps to get between us and the men ahead, "that we shouldn't be heard speaking Valosian."
I nodded for him to keep following my lead.
A circular, white-plastered building, crowned by a roof more elaborate than those of its neighboring houses, seemed to be our destination.
Theron pushed the two halves of the entrance door apart and led us inside, the damp ash of the hearth at the center of the cold room welcoming us in.
"Should I get Akeman to rekindle the hearth, or should we rush?" Theron asked, somewhat absent-mindedly, as he moved wooden furniture around to have us sit. His question did not strike me as casual conversation, though.
"Depends on what feels rushed. Hours and days — we've got plenty ahead of us. Months, on the other hand, would not feel wise to wait around," I said, and wandered about the room, reaching the rim of the hearth. A few droplets of rain slipped through the opening in the roof above, lifting small clouds of ash on impact.
"You were there then?" Theron turned to ask me, his men's attention returning to me, waiting for my next words.
"Long enough to know that I won't see home for some time now." I replied, prodding for the right cord to strum.
The two men eased their tensed shoulders and let them drop, their piercing gazes losing some of their edge as my words rang true to them.
Theron, however, continued to watch me inquisitively.
"Casualties?" he asked in Valosian, making it impossible for me not to jerk my head away from the ashes of the hearth and look at him.
I decided to dress my lie with honesty and answered his call.
"Many — both sides," I said, and casually returned my attention to the damp hearth, surveying the stone-laid circle for flint and tinder.
"Good," he said, having moved closer to the hearth, gathering a bundle of sticks in his large hands.
"This means the field is leveling, finally," he continued, snapping the bundle with a swift motion and tossing it into the ash-laid pit.
"You consider more people lost as good news, Master Theron?" I asked, attempting to mark his allegiance before he managed to surprise me again.
"Only equals can fight honorably, and the Empire is used to slaughter — not to truly fighting as it was once meant to do," he said, slivers of bitterness shining between his words.
"And please, drop the master thing. I'm fairly certain I didn't outrank you by that much, soldier," he added — and it was my turn, and Felix's, to tense.
"We stick out that much, then?" I replied, letting out a brief cackle — easing some of my own tension, or at least showing that I did.
"For you, I was unsure before I felt your greeting. It's not that common for traveling merchants to follow a soldier's greeting so naturally. As for our friend here," he said, pointing to Felix, "he almost smells like the barracks," and let out one of his guttural laughs.
"You haven't seen much outside of the Legio, have you now, boy?" he asked between the fading echoes of his laughter.
I looked over at Felix just in time to see him raise his shoulders and arms apologetically.
"He is not wrong, though," he said — making me rethink whether having him pose as a merchant would truly be as easy a task as I had hoped.
"Honest lad, too!" Theron exclaimed, nodding in approval. "Lend me a hand now, if you want to dry yourselves, will you?" he added, tossing me the flint before moving to sit in one of the chairs he had gathered around the hearth.
"And tell me — what really brings you here, legioner?" he said, a smile still on his lips, but his eyes narrower now, searching mine for the truth.
I leaned over the hearth, scraping the flint close to the snapped sticks he had tossed moments before, the sparks offering their fleeting light in the damp room.
"The same thing that chased you away from your homes," I replied, the scraping sound filling the silence before his answer came.
"And what would that have been, legioner?" Theron asked.
"War." I replied simply, the sparks finally breaking through as small embers began to form among the kindling.
"Running away?" Theron asked, his brow raised.
"If looking for more sense counts as running away, call us runaways if you must," I gambled, my attention fixed on keeping the embers from fading.
"Oh, I can get behind that notion, friend," he replied, relaxing back into his chair.
Akeman and Tormod moved about the circular room, gathering the possessions they had left behind, stopping from time to time during our exchange to listen before realizing we were still speaking Valosian, and returning to their work.
"You're the only one here who speaks Valosian?" I asked him, glancing toward them as they moved about unbothered.
"I'm the only one from the village who was drafted and returned to tell the story, friend," he said, looking at them with me.
"But you're not the first deserters they've met — don't worry," he added. "They mean you no harm."
"We never shied away from duty…" Felix cut in abruptly, the words troubling him more than they should have.
"Is that right, lad? Then why did you flee?" Theron asked him, unflinching.
"What my friend means is that—" I began, before Theron cut me off.
"Let the boy speak for himself, Marcus. Or are you afraid of what he has to say?" he asked.
"Our duties were to serve and protect. We were ordered to do neither," Felix said firmly. "I have stayed true to my oaths, and the only place I'm running is toward them — not away."
"Well said, lad. Well said," Theron said thoughtfully, before returning his attention to me.
"See? Have some faith in the boy, friend," he added, barking a laugh once again.
I offered one of my own to match his mood and told him, "I'll keep that in mind."
Felix remained standing there, watching us ease, still tense after what we had likely believed would be the last words exchanged before blades were drawn. Thankfully, he was mistaken — for now.
"What's your journey leading to, then, friend?" Theron continued his questioning, still casually drawing as much information from us as he could.
"I had a friend once — a fellow like us," I said, fixing my gaze on him. "She moved on years ago. Last I heard of her, she was in Jovirelle. I hope we might find her and get some help — a fresh start, if you will."
I watched him comb his beard thoughtfully with his fingers.
He slapped his hands loudly onto his lap and said to me, "Well, I could never judge a soldier for running after a woman. Gods — who would ever dare to do that, am I right, lad?" He pointed the question toward Felix.
Felix glanced at me briefly before answering.
"It takes a pair of brazen balls to try keeping a warrior away from his woman, if you ask me, sir," he said, letting out an awkward laugh of his own.
I glanced between them before Theron joined him with his guttural laugh.
"Well said once again, lad — well said," he added, wiping a tear from his laughing eyes with the back of his paw.
Leaning back into his seat, Theron looked over to the younger of the two men and called out to him in Almian.
"Tormod, go fetch Oldo and his boy from the rain. They should have looked everywhere by now for anything worth taking back. Let's take the time to wait out the storm with our new friends here," he said, then glanced toward us, leaning to the right in his chair to smile at us across the hearth.
"Must I, Theron?" the young man asked.
"It's still pouring outside," he added, annoyance seeping through his words.
"The rain doesn't bite, boy — but I'm known to," Theron said, squinting at him, a lopsided smile baring his teeth. "Choose wisely."
"Eh, I'll—" the young man began to mumble, before Theron's familiar laughter echoed around the circle, startling him into joining in.
"Come on now, lad. Move on," Theron said as his laughter faded. "Let's warm our bones together before getting back. Don't make me ask again."
"Right — I'll go find them!" Tormod answered, hurrying for the door. A chill breeze rushed in as it opened, the rain outside still unyielding.
"You should try it. Who knows? Maybe the mountain chill produces good wine on the move," I said jokingly — fortunately having both Theron and Felix appreciate it, letting us breathe a little easier.
The sound of thunder cut our laughter short through sheer power. I felt it strike too close, yet no lightning flashed through the windows.
"What was that?" Akeman asked.
"Thunder?" Felix whispered to me in Valosian.
"Not sure," I replied quietly.
The thunder struck again outside — same sound, same distance. Still no lightning.
"Must be Oldo's boy shooting that damn piece of metal at birds," Akeman grumbled in Almian, though I wasn't certain what he meant.
"Go tell him not to waste any more spheres, will you?" Theron said to the older man, annoyed.
Then a third thunder came — same distance, same sound — but this time, not alone.
Only heartbeats after it struck, the bell of the church rang out with a sharp ting.
Almost instantly, I looked at Felix. His eyes widened as he began searching for the exit.
"Sister Adrian," he said urgently.
"They found them," I replied, rising to my feet.
"So, you were not alone then, friend?" Theron said, standing as well — his full size asserting itself as his large hands returned to the hilts of his axes.
"Too much to explain now," I said, flexing my shoulders to shift the wine-red cloth of my cloak aside, giving him a clear view of my sword.
"Felix — go to the others. Now," I ordered.
"Dispatch the rest?" he asked, already moving.
"Incapacitate, if possible," I said, my eyes locked on Theron's hands.
"Very well," Felix answered, clasping his arms.
"Where in Oblivion does he think he's going?!" Theron barked, stepping toward us.
"Wherever he is needed," I replied — and met Felix's gaze as the words left his lips.
"Sorores, me amplexu vestro obscuro celate et peccatum meum a Patre abscondite."
And with that, the jaws of a shadowed predator closed around my friend, swallowing him whole as the cold, dark embrace of the Sisters' Gift took hold.