Chapter Text
A journey one takes is always a mystery, especially if one is new into being alone in the wild.
"Ahh! Bandits!"
"Get the women and children!"
"No-"
"Haha! Sweet, sweet gold!"
There are many obstacles, ones that could be foreseen and ones that come ravaging one's fragile state, like an uninvited storm.
"Please, we're begging you don't-"
"Shut up, geezer! This town's mine."
"Yeah right, boss! Hahaha-?!"
"What the hell, who's ruining our fun?!"
"The only fun that's gonna happen here," a figure clad in black spoke, right hand raised as it glowed blue and his hood fell off his pristine face, "is mine."
Well, not if you're strong, at least.
"Get lost. I don't have time to deal with weak scum like you."
Foot pressed on the tied-up bandit leader's back, Langris spoke in a sharp, cold voice. The defeated man visibly shakes, and his men lose all hope in front of the single Magic Knight who took them all down.
"W-Who the heck is this guy?!"
"He scraped us all off under a m-minute!"
"R-Run away!"
A scared bandit ran towards the boss, hesitating at first under the weight of the opponent's glare. The leader shouts in a rage, thrashing against the binds.
"What the hell are you doing?! Get me out of here, you idiot!"
"Oi, oi." Langris pressed his foot harder into his abdomen, making him shout in pain. He twists his foot, the hard part of his boots embedding itself into the man's clothed skin.
"Who said you could make a noise, ha?" He sneers, almost sounding sadistic, and the man bit his lower lip, drawing blood so he wouldn't make a single sound. With an effortless kick, Langris sent the bandit leader's body reeling towards the terrified follower in front of them.
He gave them a dark glare. "Leave."
That seemed to snap the poor weakling out of his hysteria as he hurriedly hauls their leader on his left shoulder and ran because his life definitely depended on it. Portals opened in the far end of the village, and he heard the telltale shouts of panic and the rustle of feet before silence overtook the area once more.
Langris's left eyebrow raised. "Well that's that." That's all? Boring.
He dusts off his hands and faced the villagers behind him.
Looking at him bewildered, like he was some sort of foreign object.
Which, he was, based on what he could recall was an unexpected entrance he made when he passed by and saw that the village and houses were under attack. A bruised, little girl suddenly starts crying, and that seemed to signal something in the people as they approached him. Eyes widening in apprehension and shock, he took a step back as they rounded on him, some with tears pouring out of their eyes.
"Thank you!" A sniffling old man, probably the town mayor, said, bowing his head multiple times Langris thinks he might get dizzy watching him. "Thank you so much for saving our town, Magic Knight!"
"Uh..." he starts, unsure of where he was going with this. He didn't actually intend to help them, per se. He just thought that those bandits were annoyingly noisy as hell and that would hinder his training. He looks around.
I'm in the borders of... Kiten.
The town mayor, probably taking his silence as a form of exhaustion started a litany of suggestions. "Oh you must be tired, good sire! Why don't you stay the night here and eat?"
The other townspeople all nod in agreement, and before he could reply he was being led towards a nice-looking building. A man knocked inside. "Oba! A customer!"
"How much he gon' pay?" A voice croaks from inside.
"Is free! He saved the town!"
The door opens, and he is greeted with a wrinkly face perched upon the top of a slightly hunched body. The old lady then squinted at him, as if she was trying to recall something. "Where'd I see that face before.... hmm..."
Langris stood there stiffly, unsure of what to do under the old lady's scrutinizing gaze. Should I wait? Should I push her out of the way?
The man from earlier laughs. "Sorry 'bout that. When Oba's thinking, she ain't gonna move until she knows what she's thinking."
He blinks. Looks at the old, unmoving lady and back at him. "And... how long does that take?"
"Not long." The mayor quips with an apologetic grin, the same time Oba groans and stands upright. Or at least, seemed like it. The man spoke. "So Oba, remembered what you were thinkin' of?"
"Hmm..." the old lady muses, eyes still locked on Langris. "Hmm..." she walks closer, and the Vaude resisted the urge to step back because he definitely wasn't scared. "Hmm....." Oba was practically in his face now, and he folded his lips to avoid any outburst at the indecipherable and downright creepy treatment.
Oba shrugged. "Nah."
Ha.
Langris was considering the idea of scraping the bun of white hair off her tiny head for making him stand there for nothing.
But decides against it.
Being strong is being kind, or so Captan Vangeance says.
The mayor laughed nervously at his slightly irritated expression. "I am very very sorry, sire. You see, Oba was once a famous fortune teller who made a lot of accurate predictions and money. She has a habit like that."
Oh? The crease of his eyebrows disappeared. That should explain why the old lady owned a nice building.
"It is alright. Where do I rest?"
The people are more than relieved to see the shift in behavior, seeing as the lad was no longer pissed to talk to properly. The mayor claps his hands."Here, sire! Let me show you!"
He removes his cloak and sat down on the bed. Exhaustion then washed over him like an ocean, and he plops himself on the cushion and groans.
As tiredness began to seep on his eyelids, he wondered about how his plans of training peacefully alone earlier went to saving an irrelevant town he had no business in.
The townspeople tired him more than the enemies.
He tsk-ed. "Can't even get a good sparring partner around here. Seriously, I should've researched on whether there were strong people in towns..."
The light from a comm device makes itself visible from inside his bag. Willing himself to stand up, he takes it and sits on the table by the window.
Is it mother again? Or father? The thoughts made him frown in distaste. Being bugged by them for all things, heritage, marriage etcetera etcetera was not what he needed right now.
He brushed the stray hair off his face in an attempt to look presentable before opening it. His mother didn't take disheveled appearances lightly.
He relaxed at the different, familiar face. "Lady Finnes."
Finnes smiled. "Hello, Langris. How are you?"
"I am fine. I'm in Kiten right now."
"Oh?" The lady asks, bemused. "That's unusual. Have you found another training place yet?"
He shook his head. He wished he had, and now he wishes he would soon. "None. I had to leave Rayaka immediately before they noticed the dent on the mountain."
A beat of silence, before Finnes gasped, laughing thereafter. "You never told me about that!"
"I didn't think it was important." He reasoned coolly, looking at her. He was clueless as to why a hole in a mountain served to make her laugh, but he wasn't mocked by it nonetheless.
"You put a big hole on a mountain, Langris." She chided, smile still on her face. "That's important. But anyway, I'm glad you've grown. How are you finding your journey?"
He sits back on the chair and groans to highlight his exhaustion. "Tiring, if I may say."
"Oh, tiring?" She asks again, bordering between amused and befuddled. "That's another unusual statement from you."
Langris chuckled. "You think too highly of me, Lady Finnes. She smiles again. "Why wouldn't I?"
Langris is thankful for the lady. She was one of the people who ever tolerated him even after knowing his true, pain-in-the-ass personality. Aside from Captain Vangeance and his annoying brother.
"Anyway," he starts, and he thinks he's gonna regret it but goes on either way, "has my brother been visiting lately?"
"Asking about Finral's condition...?" Finnes drawled, not bothering to hide the bewilderment in both expression and voice. At Langris's expectant silence, she nodded. "Yes. In a few more minutes or so he should be dropping by. Want me to call again later so you can talk?"
He shook his head at the same speed as Nozel's eagle. "No, no need. His dumb face might spoil my mood. Besides, a few minutes might be arranged once I get back."
Once I get back.
Finnes pouted. "Langris..."
He knows where this is going, and doesn't speak up. The lady spoke again.
"He's worried, you know." Was what came out of her lips, while a crease formed on her forehead. "We all are. I mean, you're alone out there traveling on foreign lands."
"This is still the Clover Kingdom, Lady Finnes." He jested, trying to make the conversation light but to no avail.
Finnes shook her head. "And it's not like you're used to traveling... right? You know what I mean. And it's been months... come back soon, okay?"
Looking at her, he nodded. "Okay."
"Good." She replied, still uneasy but didn't pry anymore. "I'm sorry I ruined your mood before Finral did."
Langris smiled softly, reassuring the worried lady. "It's alright, Lady Finnes. I'd rather you than that dolt. And besides, I'm not in a bad mood."
Visibly lighting up at his reply, Finnes once again gave him a wide smile. "I'm glad. I have to drink medicine. I'll call you again when I have spare time. Stay safe and come back soon, you hear me?"
He chuckles again. "I hear you loud and clear, Ma'am."
She giggles. "Well, I'm off. Good bye!"
"Good bye." He says, and Finnes's face disappears from the hologram. He puts back the device in his bag and plops himself down on the bed, this time to get some real rest.
As he waits for sleep, he outlines in his mind the map of where he'll go come tomorrow.
.
.
.
*knock knock*
His senses snap awake, bleary eyes glancing at the door. Not paying any heed, he puts a hand on his ear.
*knock knock*
Ignore it.
*knock knock*
Ignore it tune it out.
*knock knock knock knock knock-*
Disgruntled, his body snapped upright and he unwillingly made his way to open for whoever person was responsible of interrupting. "What?" He hissed.
Any more snark died out of his lips when he saw it was Oba. She smiles. "Dinner. Come."
She didn't say anymore. Turning around towards the stairs, she walks down, expecting Langris to follow her. Begrudgingly, he did.
Who does that old lady think she is? He reached the last step of the stairs. Making me her follower, ugh.
Turning to the corner where the old lady went, he found himself in a dining room, with a long table that stretched out two feet before him towards the wall on the other side. The window gave the unlit room a peek of the last rays of today's sun, and his chest tightened a bit before sitting down.
Just then, Oba places a single plate of food in front of him. Langris looked around, confused. "Just me?"
"Well, yes." The old lady spoke squeaky, eyes hinted with mirth and amusement. "You see, I don' really accept uninterestin' people."
"Oh." He said, and pushed a spoonful of broccoli in his mouth. It was good. The old hag had skills.
Then it dawned on him, he set down his fork. Grabbing the cup full of water, he puts it to his lips as he looked at her with a calculating gaze. "You knew I was coming."
Oba huffed, amused. "Obviously, boy. You know my former occupation, don' ya?"
Langris nods slowly, drinking the cool water. "Why didn't you recognize me earlier?" He didn't know why he even struck up a conversation with a creepy lady he barely knows. He didn't know why he was still here, actually. He took another bite, purposely avoiding her meaningful gaze. After a few seconds of tense silence, he pointed it out.
"Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?" He asked, befuddled as to why she was treating him like some sort of theatrical play. The old lady chuckled, tapping the table.
"You have a very interestin' fortune, my boy."
That made his eyebrows crease. A fortune teller, is what this old lady was. As much as he didn't believe in guesses and luck, he pried anyway.
"Why didn't you tell the people that you knew me earlier, then?"
"Oh, I wouldn't wanna tell 'em. They're all gossips, all of 'em." Oba says, expression shifting into mild distaste before turning back into that of plain amusement. He is baffled by the weird terminology.
"Gossips?" He asks. She nodded, crossing her frail arms as she breathed deeply. "Ya just seem aloof, ma boy. Figured you wouldn't want anyone poking them noses in yer business."
But you are poking your nose in my business, not to mention my personal space. Langris wants to say, but holds off his tongue to clear up whatever abstract the old lady was saying. "What exactly did you see in my fortune?"
"Well," she trailed off, like she was trying to recall a distant memory. Langris, to his disbelief and amusement, found himself being patient for what she was going to say. He feigned indifference, though, as he swallowed whatever he was chewing and grabbed his cup once again.
The sun has already disappeared behind the misty wisps of the clouds below, and in its place the illuminating orb they call the moon.
Oba tapped her hand lightly on the wooden birch table. "A heart of ice, seared and shattered with ice itself."
He gaped in incomprehension because what. "Ha?"
Oba just gave him a smile. "You heard me, boyo." She stood up, walking out like she didn't just confuse the only other occupant. He held out his hand. "Wait-"
A large gust of wind blew, and a tornado of what looked like paper pieces appear around her, swirling wildly. When the tornado vanishes, so did Oba.
Langris sits back down, flabbergasted. "What just happened?" Was Oba even real? Now he can't even tell.
He looks at the clock. 7:55. It was ticking. So the talk they had did happen, right?
"By the way..." he jolts upright, aquamarine eyes hurriedly looking towards the source-
Oba, smiling as she leaned on the door frame. "Just put 'em dishes in the sink after ya eat. Sleep well, boyo."
"Wait," he managed to say, frown on his face. "You can't just leave after saying something that vague, old lady. It needs answers." Langris pressed on, and Oba just smiled at him again.
"It can be left unanswered." She says, voice mysteriously soft as she looked at his eyes, as if she could read the deepest parts of his soul. "That's why it is called vague."
And then she disappeared for real, this time in a wisp of smoke. After a mere minute, there were no traces that the old lady was ever there.
After a few minutes of ponder, calming himself and the like, Langris stood up and just did as she said. As he walks back up towards the room, he scrunched up his face, feeling an incoming headache.
"This is absurd."
The next early morning, the inn had a different caretaker.
He held off his tongue from asking immediately, opting to get ready first. Grabbing his bag from the table, he bows at the lady who was presently cleaning the lobby.
"Thank you for the accommodation." He says, gratitude clear in the way he spoke. The new caretaker smiles at him.
"It's alright." The lady, who he got to know was Ada, replied cheerfully as she raised a duster. He looks around, seemingly remembering the place and all the nooks and crannies..
"By the way," he quipped, making Ada look up at him again, "where's the old Oba lady?"
At this, Ada smiled, the redness of her eyes catching the first morning rays of the sun. She looked at him, and he saw the sadness her brown eyes carried behind.
"She died."
Langris stilled.
"Huh?"
"Last night." She adds, folding the washcloth draped by the windowsill and puts it on the table. "8pm, they found her dead on her bed, a stab over her heart."
He felt his hands shiver slightly, taking in the truth that the old lady he was just bickering with a few hours prior was... gone.
"No suspect found." Ada says, a stiffness in her voice giving away the forming lump in her throat. "They can't even find the weapon."
He seethes, breathing through gritted teeth. A switch seemed to flip on his head, and he unclenched his teeth.
He barely knows the old lady.
I should stop acting like this.
He bows once again at Ada. "My deepest condolences." Looking up, he faces the empty road leading towards the horde of trees. "I'll be going now."
And as he walked away from town, the woman meekly waved her hand in farewell. "Safe travels, my boy."
He punches the first tree he sees when he reached a clearing. Attempting to cool one's head was harder than it sounds, especially when they're initially as hot headed as him.
"Damn it damn it damn it."
I am getting soft.
Langris' face scrunched in apprehension as he ran his right hand through it. "Calm down."
Breathe in. Breathe out.
He sat down on a wide tree stump.
Peace.
Blue eyes flicker towards the eastern part from where he was sitting.
Not peace.
Langris stood up. Raised his hand. Glared at the defenseless tree up the small hill of earth.
"Come out."
Silence.
Then an ice spike suddenly came hurtling towards him, which he shaved away with his magic. Many other spikes attacked him from all sides, including underground, and he had to keep his composure intact while casting a veil of space around him similar to the bronze loser's spell.
"You know," he drawls, his index finger flat on his lips, "it is rude to attack someone innocent. Show yourself."
Langris turns his heel around, the same time a fist was about to collide with his face but he easily parried it, holding it with his left hand.
The figure was clad in black, with a black mask over the lower face. The person's left fist clenched, launching itself towards his abdomen, but to no avail as his other hand blocked it and held it in place. In the middle of the forest with many beasts and predators around, two beasts fought for dominance themselves.
"Did you also know," Langris spoke, fighting back the pressure that the assailant's fists did on his palms as he simultaneously cast spatial orbs around them, "that introducing yourself before attacking someone is customary?"
Magenta eyes narrowed sharply at him. Glancing briefly at the now disheveled cloak, he could make out bosoms underneath, unnatural for a man.
So this is a woman.
But I don't care.
Unfazed, he leans closer, closer to the person's space. His nose touched the clothed cheek, and he felt her stiffen under his actions.
"Let go of me." She speaks at last, and it is with a hiss of sharpness, one that could tear through metal.
The wind chose that time to make its presence even more known, increasing its gusts, making both their hoods fall off their heads. A calculated glare was sent his way, intent on cutting sharply through his facade.
But no.
He had his own sharpness. And he can wield it even without his hands.
Without warning, Langris bit on her mask lightly, trapping it between his teeth to pull it off the potential enemy. He didn't notice the woman visibly shiver under his warm breath that fanned the side of her neck at the proximity, his eyes trained only on the true face of his assailant. As his teeth trapped itself on the cloth, the person withdrew her fists and jumped away, the mask being torn off in the process. Running, she jumps on a high branch of a tree before them and stared down at him, while he held the torn piece of black cloth in his free hand.
He grins, eyes locked. "So you are a girl."
The wind made short, ebony hair flow with it and she tucked a strand behind her ear. Placing her palm on the trunk, her lips tug downward into a slight grimace, face void of any cracks in emotion.
"Intruder."
And she attacks.