An Angel Called Eternity

The Field Rat's Banquet - Lykourgos II: The Riverroad

Lykourgos II: The Riverroad

The Fifth day of the Ninth moon, 872 AD.
The Riverroad, Northern Teleytaios, Klironomea.

It took a moment for him to orient himself. The world was so much larger than before, and he wasn't used to the how fast his wings were beating, leading to him veering left, then right, until he was able to hover in a position that could charitably be called 'stable'. He looked around for the woods-cat that had been chasing him and his brother, and, sensing no trace of the predator, looked to his brother standing on the forest floor. His brother looked panicked, opening his beak to chirp out a-

The prince woke with a start, the sleeping forms of a few of the men visible in the blackness of the night. He turned to stare at the sky, his vision of the stars obstructed by the thick forest canopy and clouds above them. Rising from his rest and, ignoring his body's ache of protest, he carefully started to walk towards the Riverroad and the campfire they had left there before moving into the woods to sleep. Perhaps he would be able to gleam a few insights and ponder some of the questions that had recently been raised, after all, it was hardly as though he had been given nothing to think about. How had the young man, entombed in coarse stonework as he had been, still alive? What was the significance of the contents of the box? And for that matter, the men under his command had taken the discovery of an undying man with very little confusion or dissent. But then, Lykourgos thought to himself, so have I.

It had been a week since the prince's company had set out from the Horndaal, and despite initial difficulties involving a wooden bridge, a storm and a remarkably stubborn pack-mule they had made good progress on the journey back to Anaria. The journey, though initially tough thanks to the severe lack of local infrastructure, had become remarkably easy-going once they reached the Riverroad. Let it not be said, however, that easy-going translated to enjoyable; less than a day after they left the Horndaal a downpour had begun, and it had yet to let up. Indeed, as they moved closer to the sea the rain only seemed to pick up, with the men having to dismount their horses for fear of one of them stumbling and throwing a rider, the threat of such a fate present even as dirt trails and cobbled paths gave way to paved roads and civilisation. The body of the young man had been kept in a cart, with a blanket hastily thrown over the top of him to keep him warm without covering the face. Lykourgos wasn't sure exactly how warm the blanket could be keeping him now, what with it being completely soaked in the downpour, but it wasn't as if the unconscious man was going to care much. As his thoughts turned to the strange man they had found, he noticed movement by the campfire. He reached for his longseaxe, only to realise that he had left it where he had been sleeping. He cursed himself for his thoughtlessness, and instead pulled a dirk from one of his boots. He crept closer to the figure resting at the campsite, and as a beam of moonlight lit the figure, he realised it was only Dreamwulf. Indeed, the blind man seemed to be leaning back, sitting atop one of the logs that had acted as benches when they had made camp for the night. Moving to sit next on the log next to the Oblate, he marvelled that he had yet to be heard by his companion. He coughed twice to grab his attention.

Dreamwulf grabbed his billhook and brandished it at the area where the prince was sat. Lykourgos caught a hastily concealed spark of panic on the lowborn's face as he spoke.
"It's only me, friend. I don't think I've ever been able to catch you off-guard before."
The blind man leant against the wooden shaft of his billhook, breathing heavily.
"By the 'ngels, frightened me 'alfway to death yer 'ighness."
He smiled fondly at his servant.
"You don't need to use High-Klironomoi when it's just us, Oblate. The old tongue serves just as well outside of court."
"Are we alone, yer Grace?"
The Prince blinked twice at this question. Of course they were alone, and Dreamwulf would surely know this, after all, even without his sight he could tell a person by their footsteps twenty paces away. Surely, he could hear or feel the presence of-
Ah. The prince realised. Of course. The rain must be throwing off his other senses. That explains why he insists on holding onto Nasos' cloak as we walk; it's so he doesn't lose the group.
He shook his head and answered the question.
"Yes, we are. I would have you speak freely and truly to me when we're alone; you've never failed in your judgements so far anyways."
The Oblate smiled kindly at him, with a hint of mischief in his face.
"True enough I s'pose. After all, one of us knew there was a summer storm coming, and it wasn't you, was it?"
The Prince gawped.
"How did you know I thought there wouldn't be a storm? Can you read minds?"
The farmer's son chuckled heartily.
"No, yer Grace. But you were bein' all confident, like there weren't a thing that could go wrong in yer plans. That's how I knew you didn't think there'd be a storm."
Despite his annoyance, the prince chuckled. It'd do no good to mope like some pampered princeling just because he couldn't master a skill in a moon that had taken someone their whole life to develop.
"Why didn't you warn me?"
"Well, how 're you s'posed to learn if I tell you when'ere you're wrong?"
Lykourgos feigned a sighed in resignation. Dreamwulf was not only a valuable member of his expedition, but also someone with which to have an enjoyable conversation at the end of the day without him constantly worrying about the stifling propriety of 'proper' courtly conversations. It couldn't hurt to float the question of service now, could it?
"I'd like for you to join my retinue. Nasos too."
In an instant, Dreamwulf's face changed. His brow creased in thought as he brought his fist to his mouth, obviously pondering what to say.
"I can't speak for Nasos, yer Grace, but I'd be honoured to continue to serve. I... I'd ask a condition of you though, if that sits all well and good with you?"
The Prince nodded once, and waited for Dreamwulf to state his condition. When no response was forthcoming, Lykourgos slapped his hand to his forehead and repeated his affirmations aloud.
"Sorry, I meant to ask you to name your condition but I... well I forgot that you can't..."
"See? It's no problem yer Grace. I only ask that you 'elp me pen a letter to the monastery that I'll be leaving, and give them a donation for my absence."
The Prince, about to nod again, shook his head vigorously in order to keep himself thinking straight.
"Certainly. I shall see to helping you with the penning of the letter, and the donation, once we arrive at Aenirhen. Shouldn't be much more than a day now, then we can get started. I am glad to have you with me, though there is one more line of thought I'd like to speak of with you."
The man nodded.
"Of course, yer Grace."
"Your Billhook. Can you use it in combat? I only ask because of your eyes. Apologies if this topic is sore or comes across crass, I do not intend to offend, I only ask out of genuine curiosity."
Dreamwulf raised his hands in a gesture of supplication.
"Peace, yer Grace. I am adept at using this weapon, though only so long as I can 'ear or sense my opponent. In weather like this-" he gestured around at the sodden earth before continuing "then I will admit I am of less use."
The Prince pondered this.
"Would you care to learn to fight with a sword? Surely a more knightly weapon would befit one with royal favour?"
Dreamwulf chuckled again.
"Yer Grace, 'spectfully, I was a farmer before I found faith and learned t' fight. This Bill is just a longer version of what I used to 'arvest grain, but trust me yer grace, this thing 'as reaped far more than hay in my 'ands."
Seeing how solemnly he had stared at his weapon, and how sombre his voice had become, the prince was inclined to believe him. He moved to stand by the Oblate, and patted him on the shoulder.
"I would very much like to train with you soon. Go, head back to the camp. It's late enough for you to have been up. I'll take the next watch."
Dreamwulf rose to his feet, supporting himself with his billhook as he slipped on the rain-slicked ground.
"Thank you, yer Grace. I would be honoured to train with you as well."