Chapter Text
“So, where to next?” Matty asked cheerfully. They’d left their most recent destination in southern Kozlovka and were meandering further south. A call from Lucien and a portal from Evariste had dropped them in a smallish town to deal with a mountain hag, but Acri had dispatched it quickly and now they were heading onward again.
“It doesn’t much matter, does it? Lucien will have us picked up and dropped off halfway across the continent whenever he likes.”
“We could stop in Verglas for a visit.” Matty suggested with a teasing smirk.
Acri smirked back. “Missing the little light mage, Matty?” He asked with just a bit too much innocence.
“Why must you assume every time I spend ten minutes with a girl my age that I must like them?” Matty asked, feigning exasperation.
“Oh, I don’t know. Why must you make comments and fake gag every time I so much as look at Lovelana?” He shot back. If he was being honest, though, with Matty upwards of fourteen and very definitely in puberty, he was half expecting some kind of trouble. A reminder that someone was keeping track of the boy might help give him a reason not to do something really foolish.
“Hey, it’s good for you to experience the character building that comes with having a teasing sibling!”
“I could say the same to you.” Acri chuckled a little. “And who has been telling you about character building?”
“The fun war mage, Donaigh.” Matty answered. “You know, the one that actually taught me something about fighting.”
“Showing you how to properly throw a punch isn’t teaching you all that much about fighting.” Acri grumbled.
“It's more than you’ve shown me.” The boy responded. “Seriously, why?”
“You haven’t needed it.” Acri said shortly.
“That sounds like it's an excuse to keep me away from the monsters.”
If that was what he wanted to believe, Acri wasn’t inclined to change his mind. In truth, it made him feel sick to think of the teenager in a fight.
“We’ll stop at the next village for the night, then we can decide where to go from there. I’m a little inclined toward going home for a visit.”
Matty made an incredulous noise. “It’s a little funny to me that you, who waltz into palaces and stay with enchanters, consider that two room cabin in the woods home.”
“You consider it home as well.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t used to all this stuff before I lived there.” Matty defended. “And yeah, it’s where I grew up and I love the people, but… I don’t know. I like getting to see everywhere else and making new friends.”
Acri nodded slowly. “We haven’t been down to Ringsted yet.” He offered.
“Think we can meet a selkie?”
“The princess is one, and if you bring her enough food she might introduce you to others.” The war mage suggested. Matty continued to chat as they walked, all the way into the next town where they planned to stay for the night.
Acri paused when the boy darted over to a small group of other boys and teenagers throwing around a ball and watched them for a while. He noticed when a woman stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him for a moment, but he didn’t recognize her. He guessed that she was in her thirties, far older than most of the people that would usually choose to stop and stare at his rather unusual looks.
He decided not to focus on her too much and turned his attention back to Matty. She didn’t strike him as particularly dangerous, and he was confident in his abilities if he proved to be wrong.
The war mage came to regret that decision very quickly when he felt a hard impact against the back of his head and whirled to find the woman coming at him with… a broom. Really lethal weapon, that. He caught the strike aimed at his head and kept a hold of the broom shaft, looking into the woman’s face with confusion.
“Murderer!” She growled. Her expression was twisted with rage and pain, and then she repeated herself in a much louder shriek. “You murderer! You killed my family!” Her voice broke mid sentence, and she kicked at Acri but he had no trouble twisting away from the blow.
“Sheila, stop!” A man stepped forward to wrap his arms around the woman and try to pull her back. “What are you talking about? We’re right here, love.”
Other townspeople were beginning to drift closer into a crowd, and Matty appeared at Acri’s elbow to watch the couple with concern.
“Not you.” She sobbed. “My parents. My aunts and uncles and grandparents.” She seemed to slump against her husband, taking some comfort from his presence.
“That was thirty years ago, Sheila. He doesn’t look like he’s even hit thirty yet.” The man soothed, but she was shaking her head.
“No, it was him! Look at those eyes, he is evil!”
Acri was frozen in place through all of this, studying her and trying to place her. He had no doubt she was right. His look was unique, and he had killed so very many people in the service of the Chosen. Thirty years ago? That was well before even Princess Rosalinda’s curse, and they’d been more careful about attracting attention.
The caravan on the road. The Chosen had moved the mirror thirty years ago, and their wagon had broken down. They’d been passed by a group of people moving north, families with all their belongings piled high on their own wagons. Liliane had realized after they passed that the covering on the mirror had shifted and there was a possibility someone had seen it. There was no real chance they could have known what they’d seen, even if they had caught a glimpse. It hadn’t mattered to the cruel Chosen leader, and she’d ordered Acri after the caravan to end them all and make it look like the work of bandits. They could also take a working wagon to replace theirs, she’d said.
Liliane had ordered it, and so it came to be. Acri had slaughtered the defenseless commoners apathetically, choosing to keep his focus on the adults even as he saw a handful of very young children make a run for it. What threat were children, after all? And there were enough adults that he could make some excuse for being distracted if they were caught.
“Acri?” Matty asked softly.
“We should move on before we upset this community further.” The war mage responded equally quietly.
“You’re bleeding, though.” The teenager gestured to Acri’s head, and the mage reached up to touch where the rock had impacted. His fingers came away red, but it wasn’t spurting or anything. He could probably hold a wad of clean cloth over it for a while and it would be fine.
“It’s not bad.” He started to lead the way onward, but an older woman stepped out to meet them as they left the crowd.
“Surely you don’t plan to go on?” She asked. “It’s nearly dark, and you’re hurt. Stay here in the inn for the night.”
“I don’t think my proximity will be good for her.” Acri argued with a gesture to the woman, who was being gently pulled away.
“She lost her family long ago.” The older woman said apologetically. “Her husband will reassure her and remind her she is safe, but you can always leave early in the morning. Please, I don't believe it is safe out there at night.”
Acri glanced at Matty, then reluctantly agreed. Matty never complained about camping out, but Acri felt some responsibility for the boy’s wellbeing, and preferred to give him a roof to sleep under whenever possible. An inn would also have better food than he or Matty could make. They typically made do with hardtack and jerky or cheese when they weren’t able to get a hot meal in a village.
They ate quickly before retiring up to the room they rented for the night. Matty was quiet through it, watching Acri carefully and Acri braced himself for the conversation that he assumed would ensue once they were away from others.
“All right.” He said once the door closed. He wanted this talk over with. “Have at it.”
Matty blinked at him, his expression surprisingly emotionless. “Have at what?”
“Whatever questions that scene gave you.”
The teenager moved cautiously to sit on the bed he was claiming as his. “I knew you were a black mage the day we met.” He pointed out.
“You knew it the same way you knew Baris is to the south. You didn’t know it this way.” Acri answered, his own tension coming out in his voice. “You didn’t know how many victims I’ve had, how much blood my hands have spilled.” He bit off the words before he said too much.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Matty asked quietly. “Or are you just afraid that I won’t like you anymore?”
Acri fell silent. The answer was both, but if Matty didn’t want to hear… the teenager shouldn’t have to bear the weight of that knowledge unless he chose to.
“Sit down.” Matty told him. Acri did as the boy suggested, but his body urged him to stand back up and pace the room.
“Whatever you did before, I haven’t seen any of that. And I haven’t seen any sign that you want to do it again. You were pardoned.” Matty shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned your past is over with, and it can stay history.”
The words were comforting, but they didn’t seem to do much to calm Acri. He touched the familiar steel of Foedus at his side, letting it reassure him a little.
“Maybe you should talk to her.” The boy suggested after watching Acri for another moment.
The war mage scoffed. “How is that supposed to help? You saw how upset just seeing me made her.”
“Yeah, but if she gets a chance to brace herself maybe you can give her some kind of closure. Well.” Matty flinched a little as a new thought came to him. “As long as you didn’t… You didn’t torture anyone, did you?”
“Not in that incident.” Acri answered. “I… I have been assigned to torture people, but not often. My dear mother found I had a bad habit of nicking major arteries and gave up trying to push me into that role.”
Matty pulled a blanket around himself. “On purpose?”
Acri shrugged uncomfortably. “I didn’t care for all the screaming.”
The boy nodded. “That lady must have been a kid thirty years ago. Did you let her go? Did you know she got away?”
Acri inclined his head slightly. “You’re looking for a way to see me as some kind of hero stuck in bad circumstances.” He stated.
Matty looked away, but didn’t answer.
“I’m not a hero.” Acri told him. “I never have been. I can’t say with any honesty that I regret a single thing I did back then, because everything I did kept me alive and eventually brought me where I am now.”
The boy was still looking away, seeming to shrink a little into a sad expression of loneliness.
“But.” Acri added. “Yes, I knew a handful of small children got away while I made a show of dealing with a rather tough blacksmith. The eyes of the other Chosen were on me, and I kept them on me.” He shrugged. “But I also heard the wolves that night. I thought that my effort there had turned out about as well as every other act of mercy I attempted - which is to say, extremely ineffective.”
Matty pulled his blanket with him and came to crawl onto Acri’s bed next to him. Acri watched warily, having the distinct feeling that Matty had a purpose behind that action.
“I think you lied.” The boy said, then continued at the look Acri gave him. “You said you don’t regret it. But I don’t think this would bother you that much if it were true. Maybe you don’t regret it for your sake, but maybe you do for hers.”
“Once we put some space between us and this place, I’ll be fine.” He stated.
Matty gave him a look of his own. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you let yourself think about it before, but you’re not the same person you used to be.
“I don’t think trying to talk to her would do anyone any good.”
“You’ve got a mirror. Talk to Sybilla or Evariste.” The teenager shrugged. “Between us, you and I can usually figure things out, but we’re out of our depth here. I don’t know how to handle this any more than you do.”
Acri was reluctant to follow that particular advice. Sybilla gave off a feeling of comfort and never would have declined to talk to him, but he found he was… ashamed. Sybilla knew what he was, he was sure. She spoke to Evariste and Roland often enough. But somehow he didn’t want to bring it up and show her himself what he'd once been.
Evariste by now knew both from his words and from personal experience exactly how dark Acri’s past was. It probably would have been a good idea to talk to him. But it was getting close to time for Angelique to have their baby. The enchanter would be distracted, and Acri didn’t want to pull him down into his darkness, even for a few moments.
Acri gave Matty a small smile and stood. “I’ll see if I can talk to someone.” He assured the kid, then headed for the door. For whatever reason, he didn’t want an audience for the conversation. Once he had wandered out of the building and into the woods a bit, however, he found that Roland was not available. The cat himself didn’t have a mirror. He didn’t have hands or pockets, after all, but Gabrielle had one. The Marquise of Carabas was currently enjoying some time with her husband, and the cat had chosen not to accompany her on that trip.
The war mage declined to talk with Gabrielle instead, then spent a few moments trying to think who else he even could call. Severin or Friedrich, perhaps?
Severin answered quickly, but the shrill shriek of a small child almost immediately split his attention and convinced Acri that perhaps this wasn’t the best time for this particular conversation. He didn’t even try for the Erluauf colonel, choosing instead to wander some more, alone with his sometimes dark thoughts.
He was not so absorbed, however, that he missed the relatively fresh claw marks on a few of the trees he passed. They looked feline to him, but it was difficult to tell much in the nearly gone light. It was an unusually large cat if indeed a cat it was.
Capable as he was, Acri had no desire to run into such a creature in the darkness and made his way back into the now mostly quiet village. He slipped into the inn and the small eatery downstairs, looking to speak with the landlady. The claw marks gave him a distraction, gave him a job to focus on if it was a real problem here that needed to be dealt with. He didn’t know what to do about the woman he’d hurt so long ago, but monsters were easy.