The campfire hissed, a spitting palette of orange and gold that painted dancing shadows against the cavern walls.
Across the flames sat, the woman, Kima. She leaned against the side of her Hortes, a domesticated Zhenren. Its yellow feathers were capped by a red crown that twitched in its sleep. The beast's frame vibrated with a low, primal hum.
Corpses of wild Zhenren lay scattered like discarded sketches. Some were smeared against the walls like wet paint, others were piled in tangled heaps. Green ichor covered the stone in a mural of slaughter.
Ryckel chewed on a stick of roasted meat. He didn't mind the gore. A blacksmith's son grows used to the smell of burnt hair and hot iron.
Zonoa…
He cut the thought off. Food was food. He had pulled his mask down, the air this deep being clear of the Red Dark.
As he ate, he summoned the white-fire script.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Name: Ryckel
Race: Human
Affinity: Qist
Synapse Grade: [Igniter] [0/500] [Not eligible for the Compilers' Hearth]
Greater Will: [#$€|]
Marks: [Exalt]
Lesser Wills: —
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heh…I'm an Attuned.
The word still felt heavy, a new tool he didn't know how to grip. He focused his intent deeper, peeling back a layer to the secondary script.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bindings: —
Akashic: —
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nonsense. Beautiful, terrifying nonsense.
He dropped his stick and looked at Kima. She was on her tenth serving, gnawing a bone with feral efficiency. She was rude, dismissive, and held him in the same regard as the dirt on her boots.
Ryckel hated it. He deserved more, but needed answers even greater.
"Why am I in a cave?" He asked.
Kima didn't look up. "Because the forest's local inn doesn't have any protection against the mists---oh, that's right---it doesn't exist." She flashed a mocking smile.
Ryckel grunted. "How is that even an answer?"
"A critic. My apologies." Kima leaned forward, the flames catching the green stains on her armor. "I forgot that saving your life came with the bonus of a rude brat."
Saving?
The word tripped a wire.
If she saved him, she was an ally… though her intentions are still unclear.
At least he wasn't a prisoner. That realization gave him a shot of confidence.
"A 'rude' brat?" Ryckel mocked, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're not killing me. I appreciate that. But 'taking care'? You're getting ahead of yourself."
"How so?" Kima's hand paused.
"Who leaves someone leaning against a dead monster in the dark? What if something had killed me while I was out?" Ryckel said.
Kima let out an incredulous scoff. "Look at this ingrate. Who do you think killed the Zhenren? All while you were dreaming. I could hear you shouting about being blind from way down the tunnel. It was pathetic."
"Tch. Shut up." Ryckel's face heated. "If you were me, what would you think?"
"I'd think I was lucky a beautiful woman such as myself did the heavy lifting," she countered, flaunting her hair.
"When Syrion asked me to look after a kid, I didn't know he meant a good-for-nothing." She added.
Syrion.
Ryckel's mind anchored name.
That could mean one thing… the deal was real. The Hussar had actually upheld his end. If Syrion had kept his word about Ryckel, then…
"Don't call me that!" Ryckel snapped.
"What about my family? Are they alright?"
Kima's chewing was the only sound. The silence stretched.
"I asked a question!" Ryckel shouted.
"Who knows? Maybe I can't hear you!" Kima shouted back. "Your family? I don't know anything. That's a bone you'll have to pick with Syrion yourself."
Ryckel's hands clenched. He looked at the dirt, his mother's face flickering in his mind.
Kima stared at him, her expression softening for a split second before she masked it with a sneer. "Do you even have parents? I thought they'd have thrown you out for being this annoying."
Ryckel recoiled.
This damn woman...
He bit his tongue.
No…the important thing is that Syrion upheld his end of the deal. It doesn't matter if I worry about my family.
I'm more important.
And… if they were alive, they wouldn't be worrying about me. If they weren't... it'll still be the same either way.
"You're the annoying one," Ryckel said.
"And you're a disrespectful one." Kima tossed her empty stick into the fire.
"Syrion asked you to look after me," Ryckel muttered. "Then why? I'm supposed to be at the Vanguard Lodge."
Kima let out a sharp laugh. "Why would that bastard say that? There's no way he doesn't know..."
"Know what?"
"That the Vanguard Lodge isn't taking anyone new."
A cold stone settled in Ryckel's stomach.
"The Hussars said they were thin!"
"The Lodge's business is their own. They're stretched thin, but not that thin. You wouldn't even make the cut."
"How do you know? Are you part of the Lodge?"
"Nope. Not part of those glory-seekers." Kima chuckled. "Too many eyes."
"Too many eyes?"
Kima straightened up, her face closing off. "Nothing! Mind your business!" She sighed. "So, I'm stuck with you for two whole... dreadful months."
"Two months?" Ryckel was disgusted. "I can handle myself. Let the mists clear and I'm gone."
"I'd agree," Kima said, "but I wouldn't get the second half of my pay if you die. Which you obviously would."
"Me? Die? I've survived the Bleeding Hour countless times."
Kima groaned. "Lies. Syrion told me about you." She paused, her eyes scanning Ryckel, then drifting to the pile of slaughtered monsters.
A wicked realization washed over her face.
Ryckel smirked. "Dawning on you now? What I've done is no small feat. Surviving the Bleeding Hour countless times, have you even done that?"
"Bah!" Kima waved a hand. "A small feat for a real warrior. But..." Her smirk turned predatory. "I now realize why that bastard gave you to me."
"Why did he?" Ryckel asked.
"He wants me to fucking train you."
---The End of Chapter 2---