Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths

Chapter 5 An Unfamiliar Home

     Ryan slowly awoke to the world around him. He was in a stuffed bed, probably the most comfortable one here. And like many of the larger mats, packed with others that dreaded the hard floor. Instead, he was used to it, and everyone had mastered the art of remaining as still as possible so as not to kick someone off the bed accidentally. Not that he could get much sleep anyway. It was hard these days. So he just kept his senses sharp, watching over all the little ones as they slept as well as Avery. Avery herself did not rest until everyone was accounted for, but she too soon succumbed to the night as well. She looked so tired when he first saw her. The Avery he knew had more energy than what Avery displayed now. Then again, in that time, she has assumed quite the parental role. He does not blame her for treasuring the sleep. But he can not do the same, unfortunately. Years of practice and regimen have kept his body operating for quite a long time without sleep. Even if he needed it, he almost felt compelled not to do so. So, when rest eventually found him, it felt only to blast a mere moment before his internal systems snapped back awake and restored energy. 

    He looked to his left; Avery was still asleep. She cradled one of the younger ones in her arms, sleeping soundly. He smiled a bit, seeing the small puddle of drool seeping from the child's mouth. That may be a pleasant surprise in the morning, but he's sure that she was pretty used to it by now. Ryan brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face and kissed Avery on her forehead.

    "I made a promise," he whispered to her, then picked himself carefully from the pile of sleeping children. He took to a nearby room that acted like a bathroom with the only toilet and "bath" in the whole building. This place was filled with tiny little hiding places and such. And he remembered one just beneath the floorboards before the door. He pulled them up, setting them aside to reveal most of his valuables. He took a few coins, a cloak, and then a shortsword. And he set out for the early morning. Activity on the streets was almost non-existent. One could mistake this place as a ghost town, the decrepit state of all, the fog that settled in on this humid day, the constant presence that seemed to cling to all and notice all. Watching, and waiting for something, anything to draw out its malice. But Ryan kept himself calm. The only people he saw out were the "peace officers" who patrolled the streets from time to time. Though Ryan is confident he will see less of them the further he gets from the merchant district, they didn't seem too thrilled to notice random street urchins. But he was still wary, and he never liked the feel of those guys. There was something odd.

     He made his way to the worker's district, where many ordinary people could find some sort of work. Sometimes. The day was cool, and the air stiff.  This time of day was no time for anyone to be active. Yet, he was not so surprised to find people already at the bar he was headed. He pushed through the double doors, one of them missing a hinge. The place was dimly lit with few candles here or there, and a dusty feeling immediately covered him. This was not a place one would like to be for any amount of time. As soon as he stepped in, everyone had eyes on him, assessing him, perhaps debating whether or not he was worth the trouble. He's not the only one with a blade, neither. The best thing o do was ignore as many as he could. But as he tried to move to the back of the room, a foot suddenly crossed his path. He stopped, lifting his head to see a shaven man with a giant grin looking down at his drink as his companions laughed.

     "Hilarious," Ryan spat at the ground and shoved past him. But almost as if waiting for the response, he and his other two companions rose, and he stepped directly in Ryan's path. No blades drawn, but Ryan smelled trouble from these guys.

     "Now now, friend," he said. "You just scuffed up my shoes there. You know how much these cost me?"

      "I have no doubt you'd sell your mother all over again for them, friend," Ryan said,

     The smile slowly faded away into a sneer. "You better pay me back for it, you little shit, or things are going to get ugly."

       He placed his hands on the blade at his side, a saber of relatively fine make. The other two behind Ryan mirrored the motion. Ryan's hand almost instinctually went to his as well, but he kept them still; instead, no doubt they were looking for the excuse.

     A whistle suddenly sounded over the silence left from the ever so brief confrontation. All eyes moved to the bar, where the bartender and owner sat washing cups with a half-clean rag. He didn't even look up as he began setting down cups. His apron was already smeared with various things, some of which were not food. His slender figure and lean physique did not match his demeanor, his tall frame looking upon them now as if he was going to swallow the entire tavern whole. Ryan hid a smile as the three men looked on curiously.

     "That's enough of that," he said. "Be about your business, and stop disturbing my coin. You know I don't tolerate people upsetting my coin, right Ryan?"

      Ryan held up one of the coins he brought, a whole gold piece. Probably more than these guys have seen in an entire month, he tossed it through the air, and Aden caught it smoothly, setting it in his side pouch without lifting his head. The three men spat at the ground at Ryan's feet, brushing pat him to get out of the tavern. Everyone's nerves seemed to simmer then, as Ryan finally took a seat at the bar table, where a drink was already being poured for him.

     "Well, I'll be a dead uncle," Aden said, sliding the glass to Ryan. "Seeing your face around here. Thought you finally took the hints and skipped town for good."

      "You know I can't stay away for long, Aden," Ryan told him. "The road is fun and all, but a man needs a place to come back to, yeah?"

      "And a place to stay," he said. "So your back at the orphanage, I heard."

      "From?"

     "Ali, who'd you think?"

     "Figures," Ryan smirked. "He certainly has the mouth that one." 

     "He also told me he gave you a job," Aden said in lower tones. "I hear he's working for one of them Underlords, yeah? Didn't know you'd be the type to get yourself involved with the likes of them."

     "I'm not," Ryan downed the rest of his glass. "I don't want anything to do with them, even if they did give me what I wanted. It just ain't worth it."

     Aden chuckled. "At least some people around here can admit that. It seems like more and more people around here are falling in line with one of them. Underlords practically have their private armies at this point."

     "Like those nice fellows over there?"

     "Same banner holders as Ali," Aden said. "Underlord Bok. It seems to be the popular one. runs a lot of the smuggling around here nowadays."

       Ryan stopped from taking another sip as a sudden thought occurred. "I thought Veronica was holding that down around here. Where's she."

       "She's working for Bok too," Aden said, sighing. "As I said, he's pretty popular."

       "I can't imagine her of all people submitting like that." Ryan looked down at his cup. Veronica was raised in that same house. He wasn't there long before she left, but she was always the rebel out of all of them and fell into the underworld hard, harder than most. Then, she took her sister and disappeared into the darkness. The last time he saw her, she was doing some work in her home country Hath. Perhaps he should visit her as well. Though he doubts she will be all that excited seeing him of all people.  He was sure they were on reasonably good terms, but more than anything, he wanted to make sure that she was okay. He hasn't heard good things about this Underlord Bok, despite how well he operated his businesses. He always knew these Underlords were trouble, but he had other priorities. Or, at least, he thought.

     "Well, anyway," Aden went on. "Also heard about a little incident out over to that little fort. A man is somehow overpowering the entire guard and making way with a gem. What would you say to a story like that?"

    "I would say they're exaggerating, of course," he smiled. "It was four guys. and one of them practically pissed himself after he saw what I could do to me."

      "That's all well and good," he said. "But do you know what I would say to the thief, friend? Lay low. The man's in town, and he's stomping about over that thing. So I suggest hiding that thing far away before selling it."

      "Too bad," he said. "The thief already got rid of the thing. So it's Bok's problem now."

      "Well," Aden said. "This is certainly troubling. Things seem to be going south around here all of a sudden. These Underlords, that tyrant, and that prince from the empire. The only thing we need now is the peacemakers to start cracking down even a bit, and Antalya is going to implode."

      "Making it sound like this is all because of me," Ryan chuckled.

      "Well, you always had timing," Aden said. "Who knows, if you stick around, things can be a little bit safer, don't you think. Maybe the peacemakers can start doing their job. Maybe that prince will try to help things out."

       "Maybe Bok will roll over and sit like a good boy and let them walk all over him," Ryan said. "No, this is going to get ugly no matter what, Aden. I'm just here so that St. doesn't get demolished in the process."

     "Speaking of which," Aden nodded to the entrance, and in came a man stumbling from the dim daylight, squinting into the dark space. On first impressions, he was indeed a mess of a man, and by the collective groans and pained expressions, he was not a sight for the sorest of eyes. But, unfortunately, Zeke was even worst than Ryan had thought. His motions seemed to be that of a typical routine, barely looking up as he strolled across and took a seat at the bar, not even noticing Ryan at first. Then, he pressed six copper bits to the table with a clang from a pocket and slid them towards Aden. But before Aden could take it up, Ryan set a hand on the coins, and finally, he took notice of him. However, when he focused on his face, only a frown could be mustered as he looked straight on to Aden with a tired and irritable gaze.

       "I'll pay for your drank, friend," Ryan told him.

     He scoffed. "Well, look who decided to walk his ass back over. Fine, I'll take you up on that offer. Better give me your best, Aden."

        "New policy, actually," Aden said. "We ain't serving the heavy stuff till later in the day."

       "What?" That alone seemed to spur Zeke to complete clarity, watching as Aden took a flask of soft wine, the same that he had given Lyse, and slid it towards him. He looked down at the drank in disappointment. "You're going to go out of business like this, Aden. Drink as all your good for."

       "Well, I'd like to think I provide my patrons with a lively atmosphere, isn't that right?" he gestured to the few who were around in this early hour, only to be met with half-hearted approval. "Besides, I'm not pinchin' for coins, you know, so as long as it keeps drunken idiots like you off the streets, I'd say I'm doing the town service. I honestly deserve a medal, don't you think, Ryan."

    "Sure," Ryan said, though he was looking to Zeke. He moved his stool closer, but Zeke retaliated by moving his even further away. "I just want to talk to you, Zeke. I-"

     "Heard you were back in town," he went on, swallowing his cup in one go, disappointed in its lackluster effects. "Leaving and coming back only to leave again. So now you want me to believe you've suddenly had a change of heart? Keep your damn coins, and I don't need them."

      "You say that," Ryan told him. "But instead of looking for a job, you waste your time here. All that could have been used on the orphanage."

      "So what?" Zeke asked, for the first time looking Ryan in the eye. "Think I can't protect them? Think you or Avery would be better than me? I might not have your fancy stuff, but I at least can fight. If you think that I can't protect them, why not just take it, eh?"

      "I don't want to 'take it'  damn you," Rayn hissed. "The old hag gave it to you, and believe it, or not some of the children look up to you somehow. I'm not here to trample on anything. I just want to protect my home."

     "Home," Zeke mockingly laughed. "Where was this Ryan all these years ago. It seemed you couldn't wait to leave and forget about this place. So now you stroll on in like some saint. But I know that it's guilt. You said so yourself. There is nothing here for you. So shove that bag of gold up to your ass, and keep on looking for whatever you're looking for. 'Cause, it ain't here."

    Ryan sighed. "I told you I'm done with that. I'm trying to help you, Zeke. Just-"

   "I don't need your help!" Zeke threw the cup to the side suddenly as he stood from the stool.  The cup fell, but before it could shatter against the ground, it was suddenly surrounded by light and vanished. And in a similar flash, it was in Aden's hand, who set it on the table, brandishing a tattoo of a geometric pattern etched into his skin that still glowed faintly. Ryan looked around to see that everyone there had stood up, waiting for Zeke to do something else. But he took notice of the situation, scoffed, and picked up his stool to sit back down on. Aden placed the cup back on the table and poured Zeke another glass. He was in contemplation for a few moments before he looked at Ryan again with pursed lips. "I don't forgive you, no matter what you say to try and redeem your damn soul. The only reason I'm allowing you to stay is for them, for Avery, got that?"

      "That's all I needed to hear," Ryan told him. Zeke's computer loosened a bit, but only a little. He took the other cup in one go again and then stood, taking his things and walking away. "Where are you going."

      "Since Aden ain't gonna budge, I'm taking my coin elsewhere," he placed his hat on his head. "Do what you want. But if you hurt them again, you can forget about calling St. a home."

     He pushed open the door and disappeared into the daylight. The tavern somehow got dimmer as everyone tried to keep to themselves, but it was obvious what was on their tongues. Ryan sighed heavily. This was not how he wanted things to go. But it progressed, and a much better outcome than he could have expected. Aden suddenly placed another cup before Ryan, a taller one, and poured something certainly more robust than what he had been serving so far.

      "On the house," he said. "You're gonna need it."

(X)

      "Is that him?"

     Massua was not used to having servants in the slightest and having someone at your beck and call, not even allowing you to do things you could easily do yourself. It was like having three new mothers, and that was not something she wanted at all. But at least she gained friends out of it. Carla, Vess, and Ella were appointed to her recently, and somehow she found kin amongst them. They were already friends, recently taken to be her assistants. She thought they would be just as stuffy and invasive as any other city people, but no. They also came from the plains, in fact, a bit further north from BrokenArrow. Carla was the first to make a good impression upon her. Instead of asking the obvious, what's it like going from farm to palace, or what she thinks of her mother's rule. Carla instead asked something she thought she would never hear again.

     "Hi, I'm Carla. Do you have any hobbies?"

     Massua felt like hugging them then and there. Felt far too long since she had had a normal conversation. Ever since that fateful day, she was glad to have these people around her instead of the alternative. Vess even taught her how to braid hair in all sorts of ways, Ella always having the word on the newest things going on wherever, somehow. From the highest official gossip to tavern rumors. All day they spent their time in the garden talking and such while having tea and such, occasionally taking strolls on the ground. Of course, this was accompanied by two towering men with large blades at the ready, but she did her best to ignore them. However, a part of her kept assessing them, trying to find the opening in their armor, summing up their abilities and such to no avail. This was, of course, an unconscious observation, Vermilliaa trying her best to entertain herself instead of listening to Massua and her friends talk about anything, not about something that excites her. Massua had found that she was keen on pitching in when it came to politics and fighting. Especially fighting. She never thought someone could obsess with this more than Edlund, even. And what frightened her most is that sooner or later, this part of Vermilliaa will be a part of her.

      They were enjoying a lovely picnic in the garden. Carla had decided to serve tea this time, and Massua always wanted her blends. So they talked about the usual things, what Massua was doing and what life was like in Broken Arrow. But things changed as soon as Elle spotted Lyse walking the halls with Lidia, speaking.

     "Yes, that's him," Massua sighed.

     "Who is he speaking to?" Vess asked. "Don't tell me he's planning on courting the singer?"

       "Rumors said that he was courting that general's daughter, the one he went questing with to find you, right Massua?"

       "Perhaps," Massua said.

     "You have seen them dancing," Vess said. "It was like your brother was made for it; he's so light on his feet. But I guess he's chosen. She is pretty, though."

    "Who knows who he will marry. He could still take Elena and have Lidia as his mistress. I would."

      "Look, he's coming this way now."

      Massua quickly lifted her face from her cup. She was half paying attention to the conversation, but she indeed suddenly felt his brother take notice of her somehow, some innate instinct. He said goodbye to Lidia, who kissed him on the cheek and waved him away as he walked towards them. Unlike her, there were no sentinels around him constantly, only when he left the palace. She was not surprised; he was undoubtedly more than capable of taking care of himself, but of course, people thought that of the late king as well, and no matter of strength seemed to undo his doom. Nevertheless, Vess, Carla, and Elle stood from their table and bowed, the sentinels saluting instead. Lyse waved for them all to rest.

     "Good to see you having fun," Lyse said."Hello ladies. Thank you for taking care of my little sister for this time."

     "It is merely our duty, Prince Lyse," Carla spoke.

     He nodded. "I'm just here to pester her before I'm on my way to Antalya."

    "Pester me about what exactly?" Massua asked. "I thought you left that job to Edlund."

     "Well, he's already on his way north, so," he smiled kindly. "Think we could have a little sparring session. It's been so long, and I thought maybe we could . . ."

       "Spar," the surprising word slipped from Carla's, who immediately snapped them such, but Lyse simply ignored the outburst. It's been a while since she even picked up the bow staff. She's been so busy with her mother's lessons, and her friends weren't very interested in her practicing. But some form of nostalgia came upon her suddenly, of the two of them training at the lake. And with the skills and knowledge of Vermilliaa, who knows what she is capable of now. And Vermilliaa certainly did not protest, though a weariness came upon her as well. Lyse was a godslayer, and the Makhai almost had an innate sense of caution when dealing with them. So she couldn't help but be reluctant. But she did follow them. Instead of an open field, calming scenery, and smooth untainted lake, she was instead met with a large arena, more space than they needed really. But somehow felt comfortable here, though she noticed a lot of residual damage that had been repaired. Carla and Vess got her prepared in proper gear,  just some pads, a helmet, and a bow staff. The sand was very soft under her foot, but not too much so that she could quickly lose footing. Lyse was in his standard armor, except he had taken off his actual blade and his cape and no helmet.

        Interesting, Vermilliaa said within her as they met in the middle and bowed.

       How so? she asked her.

      He's choosing to use a sparring sword against your bow staff, she said. He's either extremely arrogant or very confident in his ability.

      He's always used a sword in their practices. Massua has never taken this as some sort of slight, just something he chose to do because . . . well, she did not know that answer. Now she did. She now knows the disparity that lies when one is using their weapons. Was the gap in their skill that far that he thought it fair this way. Something in her didn't like that, not one bit. But the look on his face was more than encouraging. He took a few steps away and relaxed into a relatively simple stance, one that invited her to him. She fell into something far more rigid, and a surprised look came to him. Her friends cheered her from the stands, but their exclamations simply faded away into the void. There was only him and her in here now. 

     "You certainly haven't rusted," he said. "But let's see how well you've kept up."

     He took the first move. In an instant, he cleared the distance between them. The tip of his wooden sword aimed at her forehead; he was in her guard and trusted. She moved just in time to allow for it to slide past, and she backed away. Her heart was thumping, but she noticed that he did not pursue her immediately, though he could have easily gotten a hit in when she did. Instead, he waited till she had called into another stance. He then immediately began pursuing her faster than before. She was amazed, he did not move this fastback, and the way he followed attack after attack was more than harrowing. She was kept on her toes constantly. There was no room to counter, only evade as he attempted attempt. The only reason why he had yet scored a point was the latent talent of Vermilliaa that seeped through her from time to time, catching an attack and keeping him from sending her on her butt.

      He's stronger, faster, and skilled than you, she said. And by the like of things he's not at all a novice like you

        She was right. As Lyse slashed down at her, she braced the shaft of her staff and channeled into it, making it suddenly glow. The strike bounced off but also gave her the first opening. She spun her team and took a jab at his chest as he tried to recover her swing—a certain point.

       But then, in an instant, avra rushed from him, physically stirring the air as he moved faster than sight. His blade suddenly slapped her strike aside and then bopped her on her forehead, and sending her on her back. Her staff fell to the floor. More than the knot forming on her forehead, it was that ever so brief exposure he suddenly displayed. She has felt him at his fullest before. But that was before she could so so the flow of avra. Now, what he showed, easily dwarfed what was there back. The gap was so vast, so significant. Larger than before. Maybe if she allowed Vermilliaa to take control fully, maybe then, but she just couldn't see her fighting that.

      "Good job, Massua," he said, putting out his hand to help her up. "I'm so proud of you. You did great, much better than before. You would never have pushed me so hard then."

      "Easy to say for you," she rubbed her head. "What did you guys do in the mountains?"

    "I . . . rather not say," he said; she noticed a drop of tone. "But yes, it was worth it. And hopefully, what I learn will come in handy out there."

      "Good for you," Massua said, retrieving her staff. "But there's not a whole lot this will be useful for in politics and courts."

       "That doesn't suit the Massua, I know," he chuckled. then set a hand on her shoulder. "You're a lot stronger than you know, and it has nothing to do with that staff. We're warriors, sis. And the important thing about being one isn't how we fight, but how we know when to fight, and I think you can take that out there as well. Make father proud."

      "You as well, brother," she told him. "You carry his blade, remember. I think that responsibility follows you more than us."

     "We will all honor him," he said. "And the only way we can do that is to protect our home."