Chapter Text
I keep a deadpan face and shift on my feet as Alvin, a local butcher inspected the whole, entire deer I had carried through miles and into the town for him.
He peered and poked through the entire body, even sniffed at times. Alvin was not usually a butcher I regularly sold to, but I had to change butchers since the last one, Hond, packed up and left, citing safety from sacra or whatever. Strange, I didn't remember him doing that in the original 687th Year of the Lord. Considering what I had been hearing these days, perhaps it was a wise choice. Regardless, I had to change butchers. Me not being familiar with any of them did certainly complicate things; most people wouldn't trust mysterious meat caught by a teenaged boy with a bow, who had been kicked out of his home not more than an year ago. But Hond had pointed me to Alvin. The fact that Alvin chose to even bother checking my catch told that what I had heard of him weren't exaggerations after all.
After a while, I clear up my throat. "So," I say, from across Alvin "The meat is good... right?"
He glanced up at me and continued his inspection. Then, as he peered closely at the deer's right eye, he finally spoke: "Certainly looks like it. This only a few hours old?" I nodded. "I can make some good use of this." Then the seriousness faded away somewhat from his face. "You know, those merchants.... They love these now. Been snatching up all the game they can get their hands on. And with all this sacra-brained commotion today-" I cringed at that part "I don't understand; I prefer tamer meat, you know. But I can't complain, more money for us, eh?"
His open friendliness was already a bit surprising. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is as distrustful and closefisted as they were, in the years that followed. Including me.
Alvin tried to carry the deer on his own. After multiple attempts at hefting the deer, and failing, he smiled awkwardly at me. "Would you..." I nod and go over to sling it over my shoulder. He whistled at that. "I don't know how you even do that!"
I only spare a brief nod, because even for me, holding an entire deer is not a casual task. A shame, because it would have been nothing for me, once upon a time. Alvin trudges along and leads the way. From his backyard, we go back to the front of his house, where animal carcasses and meat hung from hooks and laid on cutting tables. I place the deer roughly down on an emptier-looking one. With the 'sacra-brained commotion' as Alvin called it, about to happen today, the street was full and bustling with people, both local and foreign. Many of them scrunch up their noses as they go by, especially a couple of the colorful, bejeweled merchants Alvin had mentioned. Many also glance over at me; a teenaged boy carrying an entire deer was not a normal sight. They had also done that when I had walked in town with it. But since this is Haramore, not too far off from Alamore, our more magicked Eledoran neighbor, most don't stare for too long. The merchants, with their purple triskelion insignias pinned to their puffed-up chests indicating their Eledoran, and particularly Alamoran origin, did not even bother looking.
As Alvin started separating the limbs and various cuts of meat from the deer, I clear my throat, again, and ask "So, how much?"
He blinks at me as he separates a full leg of the deer. "Well...." He starts. "This is going to fetch you a bunch, actually..." My stomach gurgled. He chuckled at that and continued: "But I suppose, with these Trials of Steel coming up, you would want some of it for yourself, eh?"
I slowly nodded. Alvin was perceptive. Every teenaged boy, especially those down on their luck, pinned their hopes on these Trials. For them, it is a chance to break out of their mundane, or even miserable life and become part of something much greater. It's what I did. And I certainly know that you could not succeed at something like this with an empty stomach.
I walked out of the butchery with a decent amount of coin, enough to last me 3 days, and nearly half of a cow promised to me for later, some of which he would salt for later and some for that day, because I too, preferred 'tamer' meat compared to game. And rather than take any part of the deer, a taste too familiar for me by now, I decided to spend some of the coin on some quite choice cuts of beef, just for this occasion. I had not even been eating what I truly needed for all these months, just selling off whatever I could spare and subsisting on the bare minimum. If I ate what I truly needed, I would have no coin left anymore. People like us need far more food than normal. Thank God for Alvin's generosity; I had never thought it would be this easy.
I spent the rest of the hour buying bread, a lot of it, from the bakery not too far down the road, fetching some of the cuts Alvin had promised me, going back out of the town walls to the northwest, then cooking and eating my food back at my rickety little shed. The food is absolutely nothing of luxury; not a single seasoning or spice made it's way into my cooking. Simply bread and meat. But, for my starving self, that meal was the height of delicacy at the moment. And, for something that would be equal to what a nobleman from Alamore ate for an entire day, it would keep my stomach content just until sundown.
If I could, I really would try to keep my eating habits hidden from the rest of the town. As it was, fortunately no one paid all that much attention to me. After all, who cared what a boy who lived outside of Haramore's walls bought and ate? It was one of the bigger, more jarring things I have had to get adjusted to, ever since I was a Reiter of the Steel Drakes, and almost a Freitag. People actually paid attention to me back then. Unwanted attention, too. I received a knife in the back. And then, instead of passing on to the afterlife, I woke back up again in this body. The body of a much younger me. Myren, the dirty bastard in the streets, unwanted by his remaining family, not Caland, a Freitag of the Steel Drakes who slew sacra on behalf of humanity, and Olvenstern's most renowned enemies on behalf of King Calemond.
I could, through the leaves of the grove trees between which my shed was built, see the peaked spires of the Citadel of Steel soar up above Haramore's walls and into the clear sky of deep blue from where I sat, chewing down on my meal. Sharp points of silver surrounded by blue; ironically, exactly the colors of the Order of the Steel Drakes. I could feel a slight breeze on my cheeks that flowed down from the mountains, making me cool enough to almost forget it was summer now. Strange, when that knife had slipped into my back that fateful night, a few months ago, it was winter. That horrible winter in particular... A freezing embrace of death that had gone on far too long. And now I was back in a time before the influence of sacra had plunged the world into disarray.
Those spires were where I became a Steel Drake. A boy sworn to God, His Creed, to the purging of sacra, and to the King of Olvenstern. In one day, I went from being a lonely, worthless, unwanted street jackal to the honored student of Reiters. Heroes who never went back on their values. Nearly all of them were. I hadn't known there would be exceptions, though.
I put aside those extra thoughts once I am done eating and, after washing my hands and body in the very convenient pond within the grove, changed out of my ragged hunting garb into more presentable clothing. Just modest rest clothes like everyone else in Haramore wore, not even necessarily new. My mom had sewn them for me. I also make sure to clean my teeth with a little branch stick and put some parsley in my mouth to chew. Helps prevent bad breath.
It was still a few hours before the Trials could 'properly' start for us, but I wanted to take a walk in my hometown to clear my head before the crowds became too loud. So I took the little downward winding trail that leads from the grove into the main path between Haramore and Alamore. At this edge of Olvenstern, it wasn't very difficult to make out our Eledoran neighbor in the distance.
At this time in the late morning, the road is absolutely bustling with people. In particular, people streaming in from Alamore. You could tell they were Eledorans, because they came in pristine, colorful new clothes that might have been sewn yesterday, jewelry as much as the Lord Protector of Haramore would wear, and... a certain way of holding themselves.
I try not to cough from the dust kicked up by the carriages that trundled down the center of the road, pulled by neighing, snorting horses. Most belonged to Alamoran merchants, carrying all sorts of wares and foodstuffs, but an intriguingly large amount looked like they carried passengers. And quite wealthy ones at that. Did Alamore legitimately have that much wealth?
In truth, the Trials of Steel were not supposed to be a spectacle for others to come and watch, and fortunately, the Drakes did not actually hold most of the trials in full display for all to see. But, for whatever reason, at some point people across Olvenstern decided to treat the Trials as something to hold festivities around, and it spiraled from there to the point where even foreigners come across to spectate and participate in the competitions. Supposedly, all these extras were to help encourage the young trialists and honor them. But for me, both times it just set me to anxiety.
The guards in front of the enormous iron gates stopped all incomers on foot to check for weapons. I had nothing other than the clothes on me to show, so I was let in quite fast. I would get anything I needed from the Steel Drakes. To my displeasure, though the guards took looks at the merchant carriages, they simply let in the carriages of nobles without a second glance.
Inside, the town is more crowded than normal, although it did not reach the peak I once witnessed when I emerged out of the Trials and was declared a Steel Drake trainee. Nor was it as loud. To the Lord Protector Bohelond's credit, his family has always made sure Haramore's streets can take more people than necessary. Just as the Eledorans do, they have a fondness for setting out the exact structure of whatever is built next in the town. People were even hired to help plan out the town.
Making my way through the streets filled with faces both familiar and strange, with buttressed brick houses rising up on both sides like solemn overwatchmen, I aim for the street that runs directly in front of the Haramore citadel's walls. Also called the Citadel of Steel, because that is what the walls are made of. It wasn't the only one of those in this kingdom. Few people here ever witness the inside of the place, save for the garrison, the local Steel Drake chapter, Bohelond's retainers, noble guests, and of course, Bohelond and his family themselves. But everyone in Haramore can see the splendor of the outer wall, decorated with an amazing plethora of flowers loved by the Lady Bohelond herself. Arriving there, I can see the white and blue flowers arranged in terraces and on the ground lining the wall, always neatly kept. I had little idea of what exactly they were, but their sight and smell has always been immensely soothing for me.
Shockingly, there is nearly no one in the streets in the morning there. Even on normal days, there is always a few people walking around. But at that moment, the only people to be seen were half a dozen townsmen going about their business, a guardsman strolling around leisurely in mail and with his hand on the sword at his side, and a woman- no, a girl, dressed in a dress of deep, rich green, and heavily ornamented, admiring and smelling those flowers on her knees. Other than that, not a single person was to be seen. For just a moment, I had gone into a place of near utter quiet, only broken by a bit of the hum from the rest of the town.
I liked it. Finding a place to clear my mind and just relax turned out to be easier than I expected. I walk over to the wall to find a seat in one of many benches that lined it near the flowers.
As I passed the girl, her head turned to glance at me, and with a little flinch, I saw that her eyes were the color of amethyst. Looking closer, I could see golden triskelion earrings visible through her blonde curls. The purple eyes could only mean Eledoran high nobility. The triskelion was the insignia of the Lord Protector Iralth, of Alamore.
For a split second, I almost feel as if there is something melancholy in her eyes, purple orbs that seemed to bore into my soul. She looked to be of my current body's same age, yet her eyes didn't look so young. Then she gave me a smile and bowed her head; I bowed mine in turn. Then she turned back and continued admiring a blue rose she had been fixated on.
I take a bench two benches down from her, to give her a bit of space, and take a deep breath. All these flowers give off a really nice smell, and combined with the shade one building cast on me, the tranquility of this place, and being in fresh clothes with no filth on me, it is the first time in nearly half an year of my life which I have felt truly at peace.
Eventually, the others on the street melted away as well, and the only people left in this section were just me and the young Eledoran noblewoman. She focused on her flowers, and I simply sat, existing at peace. Hearing nothing but the slight hum of the town, the girl's occasional muttering and my own breathing, in, out, in, out. Somehow, the latter became something of joy to me. All the soreness on body and mind seemed to melt away.
Something might have rustled behind me, but I don't let that bother me. Occasionally the wind blows down from the mountains into the streets. It was blowing here right then, making me even more relaxed. Even slightly heavenly. Drowsy.... The flowers swayed and stirred from the breeze at the edge of my vision, something that almost looked like waves on a blue sea whenever I had looked.
It takes a growing, inexplicable itch on the back of my neck, and the girl shooting up to her feet, her eyes wide, for me to realize that I should move out of the way, right as something sliced at the wind from behind where I was sitting just a second before. As it was, I could feel something sting and burn slightly in a line on the back of my neck; whatever had attacked me didn't miss entirely. Turning around on the street, the blood suddenly racing in my body now, my stomach drops as I stare down something that should never have gotten inside Haramore.
Snarling silently towards me, a deer-sized, upright creature of mottled blue on white flesh, with a head of a dog, the body of a man, backwards-bent feet like an ostrich, and razor-sharp hands in the shapes of saws, the thing approached cautiously. A sacre.
And I was facing one unarmed.