Music is The City of Commerce from the NieR soundtrack, composed by Keiichi Okabe. Play it!
Media: The inner ring gates, featuring our favourite duo!
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The boy soils his breeches as soon as he sees me.
At least, I assume he did. That's the effect I have on most pageboys around here, unless they're stupid or innocent enough—on rare occasions, both—to defy me. Every time I asked Captain Eldric why they all feared me even if I didn't lift a finger against them, he would just shrug his shoulders and reply that it had something to do with my status.
The problem is, he never tells me if it's because of my Champion status or my apprentice status. So I can't tell if it's me who's terrifying or if it's my abilities that are terrifying.
"Report?" I ask the boy.
"The c-captain would like to meet y-you at the inner ring gates, sir," the boy stammers. So, he had deliberately searched for me then. Why is he still so nervous?
Give the boy a break, says Abner.
He needs a good hiding, I reply crossly. Whelp like him will never help in Perinus' army.
Perhaps that's why the pageboys are so terrified of you.
Shut up, Abner.
Whatever you say...
"Report received," I say to the boy. His mousy brown fringe flops over his eyes, as though they could shield him from the world—or me. "You may go now."
He falls into a deep bow—an inappropriate sign of respect for someone of my relatively low rank. "Y-yes. Of course, sir." He then scurries off into an indeterminate direction, towards one of the many passageways that connects the structure of the outer ring.
"I'm not even a knight," I mutter, more to myself than to the wind biting my cheeks. "Why did he even address me as 'sir'?"
Can you think of any addressment more appropriate for someone as terrifying as you? Abner interjects unhelpfully.
I roll my eyes. Squire Rutherland, perhaps?
Clearly the boy holds you in a higher regard. Just appreciate it.
With a sigh, I finish polishing my training sword and return it to the stands. Perhaps that's why the pageboy had looked so terrified of me. Not surprising. Gilbert had once told me that plenty of bards around the country were singing songs of my skill with the sword, and of my victory over Diomedes. It would be logical if those songs had originated from Castle Larstand itself. Otherwise, Cordair.
I look around the training field. Only a blessed few are left under the waning heat of the midday sun. Not that it was much to begin with. If anyone had thought that training during summer was terrible, that thought would quickly be vanquished every winter. It's preferable for most to boil underneath sweltering weather than not being able to feel your fingers at all. Those men still hacking at the wooden dummies are most likely part of Captain Eldric's Elite Guard. The ones who had been specifically trained to take down ghosts two years ago. Now, their services are no longer of use, but they do still keep their skills honed sharp.
Under my watch, of course.
After buckling on my scimitar, I finally head over to the inner ring gates, having to slosh through a sea of snow. Unusual, for the captain to specially deploy a pageboy just to ask me to meet up with him. I already do so every day, to receive my numerous assignments from Captain Eldric. He hadn't been jesting when he'd said that being his apprentice would be tough work, but it's all worth it so far.
Sure enough, I spot the captain and his scarlet cloak from a distance with my enhanced eyesight. However, that's not all that I spot. There's a whole entourage of soldiers with him, heavy winter cloaks thrown over their shoulders. I squint, focusing my vision. Strange. There seem to be...tabards underneath those cloaks, worn over armour. The tabards only come out of dusty disuse whenever there's an important event.
So what's the occasion?
I think hard. When a possibility pops into my head, I grin. It's the only possibility actually. Which makes the grin grow wider.
I sense extreme excitement in you, says Abner.
I continue towards Captain Eldric, keeping my features expressionless, trying not to give away the tangible thrumming in my veins. Can you blame me, really?
I suppose I shouldn't be complaining that the boy is actually invoking some long lost emotions inside you, so there.
Abner's tone carries a note of sourness; I do my best to ignore it. I approach my master, dipping into a low bow, one that actually befits the captain of his title. "Master," I greet him, keeping my eyes pinned onto his boots—his shining, new boots, which haven't seen daylight ever since he'd gotten them from a passing Thiruthian merchant two months ago. The man could be quite the hoarder when he wanted to. "You summoned me?"
"Aye, I did." He wrinkles his nose at me, before flinging a heap of clothing into my face. I deftly catch them mid-air and hold it up for inspection. No, not them—it. A tabard like the one the soldiers are wearing: dark red, with the symbol of Honus the dragon embroidered in gold, right in the centre. "Put it on," orders the captain.
I hastily shed my woollen overcoat—gritting my teeth as another blast of wind catches me in the ribs—and pull the tabard over my multiple layers of tunics. "What's it for?"
"To give you some semblance of dignity when we greet Sir Kendrick and his entire envoy," he says, walking forwards and brushing past me. I take this as a cue to follow him. The soldiers don't say anything, tailing behind us, though the line of their lips are pressed into something akin of amusement.
But I don't care about the soldiers' hidden smiles at my dishevelled state; my heartbeat quickens at Captain Eldric's words. "Sir Kendrick is back?"
"Please don't tell me that you've gone deaf," he replies dryly, just as Abner quips, A Champion of Pst. Bronicus can never go deaf.
I carefully pretend that both sentences had never existed, and continue, "Why not call me out of training earlier?"
"Because you're one of the few qualified trainers on the field. Wouldn't hurt to let the travelling party know that not only they have been hard at work. Anyway, their messenger hawk arrived not too long ago. Just so happened that this batch of soldiers had full armour on while on patrol, so I took them with me."
I spare said soldiers a quick look over the shoulder. They're all vaguely familiar, but not anyone of particular significance here. "So it was all coincidence? Why do we need to bring along so many men with us just to greet Sir Kendrick though?"
"It's tradition to host a welcoming envoy for a general like him. Unfortunately, since he has come earlier than expected, this is all we can muster." Captain Eldric sounds rueful, as if he blames the entire matter upon his colleague.
A frown creases my forehead. "Is it necessary for all of this...hassle?"
"It's not much of a hassle, if you ask me," he says, attention focused on the path ahead. People automatically part sideways for our envoy without having a herald to announce our presence; the sight of me and Captain Eldric together is enough to tell them to move out of the way. "Compared to the time when Baron Samareal had decided to bring his whole rookery along. 'Just for some friendly hawk-racing', he said."
"I don't think it was the whole rookery, sir."
"Well, it damned well seemed like it. Pst. Maia preserve my soul, but I swear if the man ever dares to bring one of his prized hawks into Cordair again, I shall pluck its feathers and give it to the cook."
My eyes dart about, worried that the captain's traitorous words could be heard. No souls about. Only us, the main path leading down to the gates, and the soldiers behind, their boots crunching snow and ice beneath with each solid step they take. I look behind. The men all have understanding glints in their eyes. I immediately know that they would never rat out on Captain Eldric.
Not quite coincidence, it seems, I think, appreciative of my master's cautiousness in dealing all his hands.
"A little hard on the hawk, sir," is the only remark I can come up with.
"Bird's probably tired of living anyway," he grumbles. Then straightening his posture and carrying himself more like a captain than a grumbling, unhappy man, he adds, "I don't see why you're so intent on drilling me with such questions. Your brother-in-arms has returned. Just revel in the moment, Constantine."
I stay silent, knowing that I've been defeated. And yet, as I cast a side glance at the captain, I see a smirk playing on his lips. For the years I've been working with him, he gains some form of entertainment by playing battles of wits with me—and often winning. I may be a Champion of Pst. Bronicus, but he has years and years of experience on me.
I return my focus to the forefront. The castle gates have been flung wide open, and the metal grilling has been cranked upwards, allowing entrance to the figures on horseback. The steeds move wearily, and their riders don't seem to fare much better. However, I can see their faces lighting up at the sight of home—home after months of travelling and seeing to the recovery of Perinus. Home after so much work.
Almost as though on cue, the horses speed up, and I can see each and every one of the riders' features. Sir Kendrick leads the group on a purebred brinlocke, its coat as dark as night. His chin is rough with stubble, and his blond hair has grown to his shoulders, giving the impression of a wild, untamed warrior. In a way, he is. So the look suits him.
And then there's the young man flanking his right side, dark hair mussed up by the wind, olive skin a direct contrast to his companions' fairness, amber eyes aglow and bright. He seems taller, stronger, leaner somehow. The travelling had hardened his already broad shoulders, and he sits lightly atop the chestnut mare, moving as one with it, controlling it effortlessly.
I smother my grin. It's Gilbert.
Hasn't changed much in appearance, unfortunately, says Abner. I grit my teeth. Abner may be a sliver of my patron, an all-powerful being designed to be my guide, but there are plenty of moments where he grates on my nerves. This is one of them.
Abner, could you do me a favour and stay quiet for five minutes? For once?
I already did it, just now. There wasn't anything interesting for me to remark on.
Then could you stay quiet when there's something interesting going on?
I sense his delight at my frustration. Why, you might as well be asking a gander to lay an egg!
I give an inward groan. There really is no stopping him when he wants to irritate me. All right, all right. Just...try not to distract me from my duties?
You mean as the prime welcoming committee for Gilbert? I'll try not to.
My internal argument with Abner probably shows on the outside, for Captain Eldric suddenly touches my elbow lightly and asks quietly, "Are you all right?"
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to conjure a sarcastic comeback for Abner—as I know that he'll only make an even more sarcastic remark—and force a smile. "Yes. Of course I am, sir."
He raises a quizzical brow at me, but doesn't question me any further. Sir Kendrick has leapt off his mount and is heading straight towards us. "Eldric, old friend! Good to see a familiar face in greeting!" booms the Bane's voice. I nearly forgot how loud he could be.
"Kendrick," says the captain, not as enthusiastically.
"Come now. You could at least show a little more concern for your friend, eh?" Sir Kendrick claps a hearty hand on Captain Eldric's back, almost sending the slighter man toppling over. I hear the soldiers stifling their laughter; what they wouldn't have given to see the usually composed captain in a state of disarray. "Haven't seen you in a long time!"
"As I've recalled, you've been away for longer. Unless, you've forgotten Ravürk already?" My master dusts his shoulder, as if the first general's gloved fingers have left stains upon his precious cloak.
"Why, never! But that was because of war—can hardly blame me for that."
"The reason why you travelled was because of war as well, Kendrick. Don't tell me that you've forgotten what Diomedes had done already?"
Some of the humour from Sir Kendrick's brow dissipates. It's still rather a sensitive topic for all of us, and we elect to avoid it whenever we can. "Naturally not." The Bane folds his muscled arms across his chest, towering over his colleague. By all means, the captain isn't a short man. But everyone seems dwarfed compared to Sir Kendrick. Even me. "My point is, perhaps you should a little more concern about a man who has been on the road for several months on end?"
"I'm a little more concern of the matter you refused to speak of in your reports," responds Captain Eldric. My attention flickers between the two of them, intrigued. I certainly hadn't heard of any disturbing reports prior to this. They must have been strictly confidential, not passing through my hands in any way.
Sir Kendrick's expression darkens visibly. "We'll talk about this later. For now, I'd like a hot bath, a delicious meal, a good rest and the chance to see my Letitia."
Without another word, the Bane stalks off, leaving the rest of us in stunned silence.
Captain Eldric is the first to recover. "Well then, pass your mounts' reins over to the stable hands—they'll see to it," he addresses the travelling group. "After that, just come along with me. The servants have already seen to it that the proper amenities have been prepared for you in your original rooms, so you all have no need to worry about comfort."
One by one, the men swing down from their saddles, handing the reins over to awaiting stable hands. Making sure that everyone is following, Captain Eldric wheels around and heads back to the direction of the inner ring. Still somewhat in a daze, I trail behind him, flanked on all sides by soldiers. Castle dwellers all either bow, curtsy or give some sort of acknowledgment to the tired travellers. The air buzzes with gossip, temporarily cheering up the dreary weather. No doubt that everyone in Castle Larstand will know of Sir Kendrick's return very soon.
"What now? Can't even bother to give me a simple 'hello'? Don't tell me Captain Eldric's frostiness has rubbed off you," says a familiar voice in my ear.
"Hello Gilbert," I reply coolly.
He claps a hand on my shoulder, not unlike the way Sir Kendrick had slapped the captain's back earlier. Only, I don't threaten to lose my balance. "Honestly, I come back after nine months and the best you can give me is 'Hello Gilbert'? Not even a 'How have you been?' or a 'It's good to see you again?' or a 'Did you almost die on the road?' Two words for someone you haven't seen in a long while. That's a brilliant record, Constantine."
I look at him. Faint stubble lines his jaw, and he looks less of a boy and more of a man, but some things really don't change. Especially his knack for talking. "Did you almost die on the road, then?" I ask in monotone, cocking a brow.
"Yes, I did. Several times, in fact." At the sight of my brow going higher, he protests, "I did! You should have seen the nerve of the bandits!"
"Knowing you, you would have beat them to a pulp before they can even brandish their weapons at you," I snort.
"You didn't see them!" he squawks. "You don't even know how terrifying they can be."
"It doesn't matter."
"Really? I return to find you in one of your witty moods. Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
Give the boy a break, Abner chimes in. I rather enjoy his fidgeting about, but he is right, in a way. You could give him a warmer welcome. Besides, weren't you just about tingling with joy at the prospect of reuniting with him?
Abner, this is one of the moments where I'd like you to keep quiet, I say.
Oh dear, but this is just too interesting of a moment to remain quiet.
How can slivers of Pietists be so annoying? I wisely don't give him anything to chew on and say out loud, "Oh fine. I'm glad to see you. Happy now?"
Gilbert narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. "You don't seem that glad."
I wave my hands about. "What do you expect me to do? Squeal like a child and hug you?"
He gasps in mock horror. "Well how do you know?" He offers a lopsided grin, one that actually reminds me of how empty the castle had seemed without his presence.
"I am a Champion of Pst. Bronicus, after all."
"Of course! How could I ever forget?"
His expression is too hilarious for words, and despite myself, my lips twitch, then I burst into laughter. I clamp my mouth shut as soon as I notice that everyone is giving me odd stares, choking down on my giggles.
"Good to know you still have a sense of humour," says Gilbert, pretending to be nonchalant.
"Shut up." I gently elbow him in the ribs, and he feigns to have all air knocked out of him. I stifle another laughter. Everyone isn't staring at us, but they're giving us judgmental glances from time to time. No one expects two Champions of War to be so undignified. I quickly sober myself. "So, what is this mysterious thing you've encountered while travelling?"
Gilbert's expression doesn't darken like Sir Kendrick's. However, his hand goes rigid upon my shoulder. "You'll find out soon," he says lightly. "I just want to have a bath now. Haven't had a proper one in weeks. It's amazing how one can still desire hygiene and cleanliness in the dead of winter. You should probably have one too. You smell like you'd just come from the stables."
I scowl at him. "That's because I've been training all morning."
"All the more reason to go and bathe, then. See you later!" He sprints off as soon as we enter the inner ring. Only then do I notice that most of the travelling party has already fled. I hover in the main courtyard uncertainly, waiting for Captain Eldric to finish talking with a soldier so that he can give me my next orders.
When he does, he walks over to me. "Constantine, patrol duty for now. Make sure the legion guarding the eastern wall doesn't go around playing cards like the last time. You're off at the fourth bell, and take a bath before you report to my office. You smell like you had just come from the stables."
He disappears after he's given his orders. I'm left alone to scowl at nobody in particular. Gilbert can be quite perceptive, hmm? He and the captain just agreed on one fact, so that's a point in his favour. There's no attempt to disguise the sarcasm in Abner's tone. Widening his horizons has done some good to the boy.
Abner?
Yes?
Shut up.
This time, he truly does shut up.
******
A/N: And Constantine is back! Quite lengthy for an opening chapter, but I should think that you guys deserve a longer one after my year of absence. To all the Champions who are still here, thank you! I know I've said it a million times before, but you guys are the best. Period.
Anyway, what do you think of sarcastic Abner constantly making unwanted remarks in Constantine's head? And what of the cast as a whole? Two years has allowed them to grow a lot, it seems. So, you all know the drill: Vote, comment, share and recommend! Peace out.