Mar'ply sighed a bit, staring at the ceiling in his tent. He was troubled, looking at the sleeping form of Savir near him. He wasn't worried about her, not quite. Her power made her tough, and she'd always had a strong mind. The issue with Pynax earlier had been next to nothing, really, and she'd already recovered her senses.
No, if he was being honest, he was more worried about himself. Or more specifically, he was worried about what was his.
He carefully sat up in bed, so as to not disturb her, and walked over to the mirror. He looked for a moment, then shook his head. What was he worried about?
Of course, that Byrn fellow had been killed, but what of it? He was a madman anyways, best that he was dead. It wasn't that he had been killed, exactly, but that he had been able to be killed.
An Incarnate had great power, and the lengthened lifespan that traditionally came with it. That had been one of the main reasons he'd joined, for it was practically immortality, an immunity from death! And yet, here he was, considering the demise of one that, he had to admit, was far stronger than himself.
He looked at the mirror again and sighed, thinking back. How much he'd changed in his life. Why, even now, he could remember his youth.
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Mar had always been a warrior. Never a great one, for it was rare that he ever scored more than a glancing blow on his opponents' limbs. He'd never needed more than that, however, for that was enough to win most of the practice duels around the Deena city of Tirren, and it always saved him the trouble of having to explain a killing to the guards.
He stood across from one such challenger now. He was a tall man from high-ranking warrior family, by the name of Dai'Wara. Unlike most Deena, he was adept with a spear, and was one of the few these days who wore the traditional Deena armor in his daily life. He pointed to Mar and smirked confidently.
Mar drew his sword, sighing. It was a petty thing really, he'd but said something about how the armor must be hot. He knew that the few who actually wore the armor these days were overly prideful, but he hadn't cared much. He heard people muttering from the sides.
"Hey....That's the Ply boy, isn't it?"
"Seems like it...too one sided, if you ask me. Poor boy can barely trim a hedge."
"True...it'd be best if he just let the foe snap his blade and go on with his day."
Mar ignored these claims and drew his sword, walking forward.
Both opponents bowed, and Dai'Wara began to speak."I-"
Mar cut out instantly. His opponent had no time to react, could not raise his spear in time to block, only manage a startled yelp. Mar cut his face at a near-perfect angle, slicing through both of his cheeks and hearing the flesh apart.
His opponent howled in pain and dropped to the ground, putting a hand to his face to try and stem the tide of blood. Mar looked, seeing a lump amidst the blood."Piece of your tongue? Sorry about that." He turned."But, at least you won't try to waste time with damn heroic speeches. Serves you right." He walked off, hearing people rush towards the groaning man.
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He walked back to his home, sighing as he stepped inside. There, near the door, were five urns. A large silver one for his mother, and four smaller bronze ones for his brothers. He pat the large urn, nodding."I'm back." He chuckled a bit and walked into the next room.
There stood his father, an elderly Deena with his once golden hair cropped to an almost transparent silver film. He looked at him tiredly."Welcome back, son. Anything interesting happen?"
Mar sat down, ignoring the old man's coughs."Nah, nothing much." He replied, gazing over the wall beside them. It was adorned with countless prized, from the hilts of enemy blades, to marks of valor given for battle. Too many prizes to count. It only made sense, after all. His father had been a master of bladework in his youth.
His father interlocked his fingers."Nothing? And yet, I received a bag of gold on my doorstep earlier, with a simply little note on it. 'Thank you', it said." The old man gestured to the small sack on the table and closed his eyes."...I obviously don't leave the house much these days, so I can only assume it was for you. So, i'll ask again. Anything interesting happen?"
Mar just shrugged."Nope, nothing. Maybe they put it at the wrong house. Lucky for u-"
"Don't play dumb." His father warned coldly."I have ears, you know. You maimed the eldest son of the Wara, didn't you?"
Mar shrugged."Well, he challenged me, I don't see what the pro-"
"I heard you provoked him." His father continued, ignoring him."Did someone pay you to injure him?" He demanded.
Mar sighed."...The Tirren's." He began, and quickly continued when his father stood, blazing with fury."But, but, but! It was just to remind them to be more obedient when it comes to war orders, they've always been a bit defiant. If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else! Someone else with a father who doesn't need medicine!"
His father held his hands over his ears."Stop! Do not say these things! Blood money! You took blood money! The shame! What would your brothers think! What of your mother!"
Mar was annoyed now, and snapped."Maybe we'd know if you'd bothered to save them!"
His father began to speak, but Mar interrupted him."And don't give me that 'Blood money' excuse again! You're one of the greatest swordsmen our kind have ever known! You could have easily dueled for sport and paid for the medicine they needed. But you just sat back, grinning like an idiot and talking about 'Peace' and 'it wouldn't be right'! I came back from a job to see you sick and dying with everyone else in urns!" He glared, yelling at this point."You practically killed them yourself!"
The old man coughed a bit, regarding the blood in his palm tiredly as he wiped it off on his shirt."...Sometimes, I wish i'd died as well. I wouldn't have to see what the remainder of my bloodline has become." He stated, then stood."...You're no longer welcome here. I'll have no cold-blooded fool for a son." He walked into the next room and shut the door behind him.
Mar glared and hurled the bag of coins against the wall, seeing it split open and send coins flying in all directions, glinking and clattering to the floor."Fine! Take my last charity, you old buffoon! I'll become a famous warrior, and earn enough to build a palace! And when you come crawling to me, sick and begging for help and forgiveness, all you'll get is a door slammed in your face!"
He heard nothing, save for mumbling from the other side of the door, and stormed out of the house.
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He shook his head. Over time, he supposed, he'd begun to understand his father. It was easy for a man to feel pride in killing when he was but a man. But when that man had a family, people he loved...He saw them reflected in his victims. He wouldn't fight to earn the funds not because he hated his family, but because he wished to spare that pain of loss from others.
He'd had to understand it, he supposed, glancing over at the still sleeping Savir. And, ironically enough, if his father hadn't banished him, he might never have understood him.
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He'd gone to Vrai, of course. They were at war with a neighboring nation, after all, and there would be plenty of opportunity to prove his worth in battle. But, as soon as he got there, the war had ended! What were the chances of that! He'd taken up jobs as caravan guards, for in the aftermath of conquest, there were sure to be rebels or bandits. But again, he was robbed, for not long after the conquest, a rebellion had succeeded almost overnight, with the conquered becoming conquerors almost overnight!
He'd decided to wash his hands of the old affair. Vrai was just a land of missed opportunities to him now, and he had begun on the road. Perhaps Sawaln, or the northern lands? There were always invasions and counter-invasions there, it was a place popular among mercenaries. But, this thought was interrupted as he heard yelling.
"No, no, stop!"
"Wait! You promised, you-"
The second voice he heard was cut off abruptly, followed by a scream of terror. He hesitated for a moment, then rushed towards the noise, hand on his sword.
He saw several people sprawled on the ground, obviously dead. One man stood in front of a much younger woman, seemingly his daughter."You....You promised! We did what you said, you said you'd let us live!"
One of them, a black-haired Fauxman, smiled."Well, highness, can't have you gathering support to take back your kingdom, can we?" He walked forward, and before the man could say any more, he was stabbed through the gut.
The woman screamed in terror,scrambling away from the corpse. Mar watched the laughing leader walk towards him and sighed. He normally didn't like to interfere(Without pay, at least), but he'd never liked seeing soldiers abuse their power. And in any case...The man had been called 'Highness'. Maybe the girl would pay him!
He rushed forward with a growl and, before the group of soldiers, he attacked. The leader half-turned as Mar cut out with his blade, cleanly slicing through the back of his neck and collapsing him.
The soldiers watched, aghast, as he stood over the commander, slicing again to remove the head completely. They turned and ran, demoralized by the sudden brutality they had witnessed.
Mar sighed, looking at the woman. She was trembling, with blood having splashed onto her dress. Whether it was the commanders or her fathers, he wasn't sure. He looked over her, then shook his head."Nothing on you." He decided, and turned to leave.
"U-Um..." The woman stood and followed him.
He turned, glaring."Look, I don't need the extra weight, so be go-"
He stopped as the woman held out a jewel, a crystal about the size of a pear."I-I...I need a protector." She stated, trying not to look at the bodies around them."Please, I...I can give you one of those a month."
His eyes widened, and he took the jewel. This alone was worth nearly three months pay in most armies...certainly, it was tempting, but he couldn't let the woman know that."...Every half-month." He corrected her, looking at her.
Her eyes widened."I...I-I can't-" She threw up her hands as he turned to leave."Okay, okay, I...Th-that will be fine, j-just please, keep me safe!"
He nodded."That's better. Now, what's your name?" He asked, taking thejewel and placing it in his bag.
She followed, eyes darkening."I'm Virsa, pri....former princess of the Kingdom of Vrai."
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His thoughts were cut off as he heard yelling outside. Savir rubbed her eyes."What is it?" She asked.
He shook his head."Stay here, i'll go see." He replied, grabbing his sword and walking out.
There were people gathered and murmuring amongst themselves. He saw Tilens being rolled onto a stretcher, looking like death. He hurried over."Tilens! What happened?" He demanded.
Tilens seemed not to notice him, instead shouting to the heavens."Arvin! My brother Arvin!" He sobbed, as the medics tried to restrain him."They killed him! Those Griffin bastards killed my brother!"
Mar watched him be carried off, mind swimming. That was two of the Incarnate slain by this group now. He could hear the people mumbling fearfully as they walked off...What was happening!?
He and Savir had become incarnate for the power, for the promise that they likely wouldn't die. And yet, this group of mercenaries...just how strong were they.
He turned and saw Pynax standing guard with his prisoner, who glanced over. She smiled, with an absence of both kindness and malice. It simply sent a message;They're coming. They're coming, and you're all going to die.
He shook his head and returned to his tent. All of this was but a fluke, he reasoned. There was no reason to stay worried...It would be fine.
He was Greed Incarnate, after all. He always got what he wanted.