Of Hope & Honourbound

Chapter Two: The Ghost Army (Part One)

Darius finds Nasrin's silence very uncommon these days. The blond-haired's tongue was not one to remain still when there was something to talk about. Darius leans forward on the table, raises the cup to his lips and took a quick sip, dark-raven eyes watching his friend's expression. Nasrin was most likely thinking.

After a moment, Nasrin finally breaks the silence. "The Legend of the Ghost Army, Darius," he picks up his own cup and steals a sip of tea, "have you heard of it?"

Darius huffs gruffly. "None that I can relate to."

"I see." Nasrin retorts, his words curt and even, and then he smiles. "In ancient times, a soldier who follows his king into death is regarded as an honour. Legend speaks of a king by the name of Firdon, who was described by his people as the brightest star in the sky and the wisest of kings ever to rule a country. Upon his death all his soldiers followed him into the afterlife, but there are rumours that it may be Firdon who ordered their deaths himself, fearing that he may be alone once he dies." he pauses, "What do you think?"

"It hardly makes sense." The blackened winged creature shifts on his spot, his wings shuffling deep in the sand. "If King Firdon was a kind man as the legend speaks - for why would he order the death of his own soldiers?"

"My thoughts exactly." a smirk, and Nasrin leans back into his chair, enjoying the fact that there was no one around the hawker stall that they'd chose to settle down temporarily by the foot of the mountain. "But then, legends are but legends, after all."

Darius is not convinced. "What do you mean, 'Rin?"

"All stories of legends comes from their own sources." another smirk, and Darius knows better than to trust everything was alright.

"Do you mean you actually believe it?"

An affirmative nod was the blond's response. "We should investigate."

Rising to his feet, Nasrin left the money on the table before a slight wave of hand motions for Darius to follow him. At the back of the stall, Mount Salayar stood high, the sight of its very peak shielded by clouds. Rumours fly that people who ventures into the forest that populated the top would eventually not return. Perhaps it was the wild animals that feasted on them, or perhaps there are cannibals, or perhaps, ghosts of Firdon's soldiers came to haunt them and drove them mad. But Nasrin does not believe any of this, yet, he would rather witness the truth with his own eyes than analyse the existing rumours with no real substance or proof.

"Do you feel that it's getting cold, Darius?" Nasrin's soft, velvety voice resounds in the mist surroundings all around them. Two hours into the mountains, they'd most probably have made it through the top half, with Darius' initial offer to carry him up to the roof, Nasrin is not oblivious to the fact that his wings were not made to bare two owners. He'd tire himself.

"I hate to admit it, but..." Darius grumbles, "the frost is unusual."

"Death." Nasrin added, and stops when his foot hit something. The wingless entity bend over to pick it up, violet eyes blinks in surprise at the bright jewels sparkling on a golden goblet. "Oh?" He turns to face Darius now, who was next to him, a cheeky little smile now across his visage. "I don't suppose you're in for a tea party? Gold is rare even in the palace of Andromeda. Though I've noticed Earth is filled with it."

"Be serious." Darius snaps at him, but took the goblet in his hand. He inspects it, noting that it wasn't filthy or covered in dirt as it should be. "Why would something as valuable as this be in the middle of nowhere?" he spoke, rather loudly, "And it seemed to newly gone through a polish, at that."

The rustling of bushes made them both jump, Nasrin drew his sword and Darius his spear, prepared for whatever that was coming their way.

"We're already at the top, Darius." Nasrin says suddenly, "that would explain why it's cold."