Princeps

What was fear will be purified in anger. What was sorrow will coalesce, harden and coat the heart giving layer upon layer upon layer of calcified loss of innocence causing vindictive spasms of the mind. And one such was shuddering endlessly through Atef during the night. He cannot recall when reality finally reestablished itself relinquishing him of the catatonic grip, but he sure remembers how the rest of the night played out. His eyes were fixated on the door, looking for the moment when the click of the lock and the drop of the handle would say it is time to suffer again. His body expressed weird muscle memories as sudden surges of pain coursed through his legs. They were the phantoms of forgotten episodes from his past, suppressed inklings of what Togrin and Everard had put him through.

The pain was fuel, just like fear. It nourished anger. And by morning, Atef was full of it. As Baor slowly rose to greet Sur, he was standing in the middle of the room, silent with beastly eyes focused on the door. The click finally came and Feyta entered from the dark innards of the hall to greet the boy. The skin around her eye was green-yellowish and around the neck there were clear signs of a chokehold.

- Good morn’ little lord!

There was no time for Feyta’s words or woes. He rushed passed her without greeting and found his way back into the area where they sat last night. Empty, in daylight, the Golden Oar looked like a repurposed shipwreck. Even the contours of the walls reminded of a hull that was narrowing towards the exit door. With one final glance at the Golden Oar, the nets, ropes, Hulgum’s various seafaring curious, stuffed fish and a set of barrels that were to be exchanged for full ones at next resupply, Atef rushed towards the exit, sensing that his satisfaction will not be met here.

He found him in the stable, patting Rugen while Carlyle was pushing in his snout hoping for some love as well. Masterful as always, Ervel was looking impeccable, today choosing to be royally red with princely brown shoes signaling his high statue, or his immediate proximity to it. The only blemish on his perfection was a somewhat tired look in his eyes.

- My dear sir! Good morning! I didn’t expect you to be up for a little while longer so I hope you will forgive my absence and lack of proper greeting. I love these two, so being with them in the morning gifts me so much peace.

- I don’t care! You left me, you high speak, pimping bastard!

His righteous rage unlocked something new, sinister and most profoundly perverse.

Magic roll: 66 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to Illusion magic {learned mind trick} ; current level 2/50

Madness roll: 52 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to madness ; current level 7/100

Secret roll: 50 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to a mystery ; current level 5/100

Ervel’s eyes suddenly went cold, his facial expression nightmarishly neutral. He was somewhere distant, seeing what couldn’t be real, what was long past. Like a clarion call made true, he could see his childhood, the distant plains on which he grew up herding cattle like his ancestors did. He could see his father, mother, sister. Their faces shining and smiling at him, the flowery smell of his mother’s embrace, the kiss on the cheek from his sister, father’s gentle taps on his head which were actually never gentle because of his overworked and rough hands. The emptiness of his face started stretching into a smile, antithesis to Atef’s wrath.

The boy rushed at him, his eyes and nostrils flaring with the accumulated hate. His final step planted his left foot borrowing power from the twist of his hip as his right fist placed itself comfortably into Ervel’s gut. The barber’s smile achingly disfigured into pain, the surge of pressure confusing his lungs and for an instant, he felt as if he was choking. He sank to the ground, the pain morphing his vision into the contents of his nightmares. Atef started kicking him in the ribs, having the innate decency to spare his face in his blind rage. Ervel’s nightmares came crashing down, destroying the façade, the walls, the foundation of the castle that comprised his dearest memories. A vengeful blood feud came to memory, the night his father sent him away, his feeling of being outcast from his family. And then the return… the sight of coffins being buried and he, clawing in the ditch. He was told they were in there; he wouldn’t believe it. He was in the graves, digging the dirt, wanting to open the coffins, wanting to know this is not a sick joke.

Sobs. Ervel was crying, equating physical pain to the sorrow of the soul. Atef heard them. He saw the tears. And then he landed one last merciless kick, empowering it with the vestiges of his anger. Ervel was on the ground, curled up in fetal position and crying. The boy looked at him for a moment and felt good about himself. Just punishment was dispensed for leaving him without word or warning to the predators last night. Horses’ puffing averted his eyes from the pathetic state Ervel was in. He noticed the horses stretching their necks over the fence of the pen trying to sink their noses into a sack just out of reach. Before approaching it, Atef took one last, good, long look at Ervel and the miserable state he was in and then ventured forth. He crouched, lightly slapped the horses’ snouts away and dug in. It was full of treats. Small cakes, dry honey biscuits, deep fried dough covered with jam and sugar, apple pie and sugared cubes of something earthy, most likely some root of distinct taste. He glanced back at Ervel and without hesitation swung the sack around his back and left him to wallow in the dirt and chicken-shit of the barn.

Next to the barn he saw the wagon, tucked a bit behind, as if it was shyly peeking around the corner. He could hear the birds which were trying to entice the whole of the settlement around the Golden Oar to come out and pay their respects to their tunes. Next problem on his plate was to find Erleia. She wasn’t with him this morning leaving just the inn as the viable option. If he doesn’t find her there, what should he think? That she left them; that the same monster that wanted him got to her in the night? Dread set in and he quickened the last few paces to the inn’s entrance grinning at the string with teeth.

- I shouldda got a few from Ervel and put them here! Wouldda be good memory for him every time he drops back.

She was sitting at the same table, playing with her hair and gazing emptily into the distance as if waiting for something to happen. Atef slowly approached and she only snapped out of her daydreaming when he was two steps away.

- Good morning! Where you go last night?! You left me alone!

Magic roll: 57 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to polilinguistics ; current level 6/50

- Raeran luem, bed – she answered smiling, choosing not to notice the frustration in his voice.

Atef noticed there was something different about her this morning. Apart from a certain radiance in her demeanor, her hair and skin glowed and she smelled like perfume. She was clean, her hair was combed and her nails cut and meticulously manicured. She looked like a lady, a far cry from the dirty and exhausted slave he found barely keeping up with the cart that pulled her. Even the pointy end of her right ear was adorned with a simple silver hoop. She looked as if she has overnight immeasurably progressed in society.

- Where you get that?! – inquired Atef pointing at the earring. He then noticed she had a new skirt as well, pristine compared to the tatters that looked as if she was through a good romp or two.

- Present – simply came out of her mouth, clear and understandable as if they both spoke the same language.

- From Ervel I reckon?! – he asked rhetorically.

She nudged her head affirmatively and proceeded to play with her hair again. Mute, she was a gracious living statue who owed him no explanation. He stood still, waiting for her to bark at him in her foul tongue that he should not stare at her. He wouldn’t understand the words but he would understand the meaning. He needed to pry out of her that look, the guise from the pit reminiscing of something lost. It would always come after the exchange. After the walk of one of his mas or other females with the guards to a secluded side tunnel. He wanted to glimpse that same look on her, the “don’t ask me what I do to survive” look. The unnerving silence and his stare didn’t bring it about. She was distant again, capable of sitting there forever. For an instant he remembered her eyes in the barn after the wedding, and silently cursed. Something was lost between them, potentially forever. It was time to see what could be gained for the future.

He dropped the sack on the table and opened it towards Erleia. A smile bloomed from her mouth releasing a lock of hair she chewed on in her stupor.

- Gaeg boumal faedar elisar! Umal, umal, umal vaespal!

She went for the cakes first, taking three into her hand, stuffing one in her mouth before Atef could even consider what he should like to eat first. Then another landed in her mouth, she barely breathed as she munched the doughy mass. She was breathing as if she has apnea while the third one was moving towards her mouth, ready to go down the gullet. And then it changed direction, her hand brought it in between them. She held it up there, curiously smiling to her offering. Atef briefly glanced at the sack and then at her.

- ‘Tis a tease! She will stuff it her chomper the tick I reach!

It was still there and she was still smiling, she even wobbled it a bit in the air. A lure, a game of catch me if you can.

- Ahhh, have it your way! – he thought and reached with his hand.

- Bite! – she said moving it out of his reach and simulating with her teeth. The cake was again at its starting point, mesmerizing with its sugary delight.

He leaned forward and obeyed. She jumped out of the chair, stuck the cake in his face painting his nose white with cream and stuffed half of the cake in his mouth. Then her mouth rushed forward and bit the second half, their noses grazing for a split second. Atef remained stunned, forgetting to chew, the sweet mixture starting to choke him. He wanted to spit it all out, get precious air flowing again to his lungs. He closed his mouth, started violently coughing, pushing the blob in his mouth around until finally everything moved around as it should. Erleia paid him no mind, she was already savoring the apple pie. The moment he came to, all red in face and teared up, she giggled, reached out with his finger and took the cream of his nose, mixing it in with her next bite of the apple pie. Mimicking, as this was always the safest, Atef did the same to what was left on her nose. He put the finger in his mouth and smiled, looking like a little boy who is still suckling on his thumb. She smiled back and lowered her gaze focusing on the pie. The moment was fleeting and Atef still didn’t posses the courage to seize it. He felt it would be all wrong before they can learn more about each other, before they could exchange one coherent sentence between them. He only knew her name, and that she is an Aebor, and that she used to be a slave, and that she likes cakes, and dance when she is a bit drunk. He actually knew a lot. But still that sense of belonging which saved countless lives in the pit, the tribal mentality of we’re in this together was necessary before he could even entertain the ideas that bubbled inside his stomach, his mind, his loins. So, continuing to mimic, he also lowered his gaze and with a smile dug into the contents of the sack.

They playfully fought over a couple of pastries with melons and apricots compote pieces which tasted divine; proceeding then to the sugared root cubes which were so nasty to Erleia’s tastebuds that Atef got to savor all of them. Soon enough, the sack was empty, they were thoroughly stuffed and feeling pain in their teeth as if they were rotting away. Now Atef was daydreaming as well, feeling sluggish from all the sugar and the torment he experienced last night. One more terror was etched deep within him adding to the growing masterpiece of misery.

Ervel broke their indulgence hobbling into the Golden Oar. He was dusty, applying pressure to his left side that must’ve been full of bruises and maybe even, Atef hoped, a fractured rib or two. Before he could pay attention to them, Atef dropped the sack under the table and brushed away any crumbs with one swift motion of his hand.

- Good morning your highnesses – he jutted painfully through his teeth, still adhering to his game although both of them would never be able to even catch a whiff of someone who is considered “highness”, let alone be elevated to such stature.

- Fasil baek! – wished Erleia, suddenly attentive, all googly eyed and mischievously smiling for a split second, before the realization of his state settled into her mind. Her face morphed instantaneously, mixing shock, fear and care. She jumped to his aid, wanting to nurture him back to health the best she could.

- My dear lady I’m perfectly fine and content, no need for your involvement – gently said Ervel, turning her away with a slight wave of the hand. He had to take her hand, kiss it with respect and gently push her shoulder down before she realized his wish, calmed down and took her place again.

- ‘Morn again Ervel – said Atef once Ervel turned his attention back to him. He acted cooly, caring little what might come out of his mouth next.

- A word, sire? – asked Ervel under voice.

- Yes, speak then.

- In private sire – asked Ervel, cognizant that soon the guests and Hulgum will be setting foot into the tavern area from the rooms above.

- Fine! – Atef said with annoyance dancing across every sound of the utterance.

They stepped outside, leaving Erleia to wonder why she is being left out.

- I… - began Ervel as they positioned themselves next to the barn. Atef waited, trying not to evoke the rage that he let loose just a short while ago. – I wanted to thank you sire. What happened was a wake-up call, long overdue. Although I have very little memory after the moment your demeanor turned choleric, and your acrid visage showed full well what was about to happen, I have learned something today.

Atef stood silent, looking to understand why he is being thanked for what he did.

- So, you not mad!? Not even a little?

- Exactly, not even a minuscule. Your rage was completely justified, though I genuinely believed you will just spend the night playing dice with the gentlemen present at the gambling table and Hulgum was to intervene before any problems were to occur.

- Aham – implacably snorted Atef.

- May my honor be forever tarnished if I am being dishonest sire. I only meant well.

- Nah, you meant to get rid of me, I see how Aebor looks at you! I wasn’t there last night but I have my guesses…

- Oh… discreetness was injured I presume. Whatever may be your stance on the matter, I deeply sympathize and ask your forgiveness.

- I don’t wannna even touch that hot poker you high speak bastard!

- Yes, yes I see. Then I shall drop it immediately. One more thing sire, I must convey my final predicament. You see, it seems as if the sack which was in my possession has gone missing.

- And I shouldda know anything about that pot of piss?

Ervel looked at him with the glance of beaten man who will disappoint those who depended on him.

- I believe we should leave soon. I will tend to final preparations.

With that uneasy conclusion, they parted. Atef went back to Erleia and kept her company while Ervel made sure all the preparations to set out on the final stretch of the road to Jarat were completed. By the time Hulgum finally got up from his slumber and went down to see if Feyta was keeping things in order, the trio was long gone. Only things that remained were Ervel’s silver grifs on the counter and the squashed apples and peaches strewn across the road. Ervel tried to bribe the kids with them as he was leaving the Golden Oar but the youngsters didn’t appreciate it enough, instead choosing to toss them back at the benefactor.