The Cut of Fate

4. A Deal- Hasmed

"Wait!" he heard the small girl call from behind him; when her hands wrapped around his arm it felt like flames had ignited around them.

The air seemingly burned under the sudden pressure that radiated from the simple touch. Typically, this would have sent most into a state of utter fear, yet she was ignoring it like it was nothing,

"You can't–You're like me right?" her eyes were shining with excitement, "Where are you from?"

She was practically bouncing with every step, and in that instance, he knew that this one good deed was soon to be dragged on with no easy way out. He only wanted petty vengeance on that group of little demons, or so he told himself. Perhaps he was doing it to keep the promise to himself he started at the beginning of the war. His quota would have been met in performing the one selfless act of the day, yet he was finding it difficult to not help her.

When he turned to face her, he was greeted by a pale face as she finally looked inside the pouch he had given her. The gold was more than she had ever seen in her lifetime.

"I can't–how could I ever take..." She pressed her lips together tightly and her eyes met his. With a shimmer of purple light, a much larger bag thumped on the ground. He pushed the pouch she was attempting to return back to her, shaking his head to signal it was no problem for him to give away.

Looking unsure she spoke again, "Pardon me, I have so many thoughts running through my mind at once. I haven't even asked for your name. You can call me Rosalie," She gave him an awkward curtsy.

"Hasmed," His gaze never quite met hers as he bowed his head at her in return.

She wouldn't have a chance to speak again before he wordlessly turned and raised his shirt. As a warning, he brandished the sigil of the king's hand, the large symbol took up much of the center of his back along with many other scattered runes. Even common folk knew the sigil was that of those who directly dealt with the king; those who bore it were known for laying waste to the king's enemies on the front lines during times of war and acting as his guards during times of peace.

In hope of not letting her focus on the runes themself, he quickly lowered his shirt once more. It was difficult to turn his back on her knowing the misery she suffered, but he had no room for training a mage from scratch. He bit his tongue in an attempt to not speak.

"No attachments, no obligations, no emotions," he reminded himself, "No issues anymore."

He silently walked away, back to the village. When she didn't immediately follow he let out a sigh of relief. She silently followed him, remaining in his shadow until the city was in sight.

"When I was twelve I was just as surprised as the rest of the town to find that I had magic," her tone was sullen as she spoke, "Cursed they claimed, and I've been known as a witch since. I just want to know if–how many others are there? Is there somewhere I can learn to straighten this out, somewhere to help me not become a walking hazard?" Her voice crackled with the frustration she could no longer contain.

It didn't make any sense for him to even consider hearing her out, yet with every word, he was sucked further and further into the quicksand of indecisiveness. He felt her study him as they walked then her hand once again brushed against his skin. Wind suddenly whipped through the brush as she spoke up again.

"I can barter for your information," her voice was softer now that they were on the outer edges of the town, "Edwin and I create the finest weapons you'll find for the next fifty miles at least. And if not a weapon perhaps a hot meal?"

He finally met her gaze for the first time since they stumbled across one another. He was greeted with a look of desperation, but more than that the eyes of someone hungry for a new path to follow. He let out a sigh and looked away from her.
"They are all like us, even the hypocrites that beat you. Finish the tome before the Twelve Legion departs from this area and I will take you with me to train." The grin that overtook her face was all he needed to see to let out a groan internally.

Feigning aggravation, he pulled his arm from her grasp and let out a grunt.

"And for squeezing my arm off I would like a hot meal in return," his voice was a grumble as he spoke, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was going to regret helping this young woman. That was until he notices those around them as he walked along side her.

"I have no arguments with that." a smile appeared on her face as they walked alongside one another, though it was short lived. 

Many townspeople and travelers were already out and about; the small town was bustling as traveling merchants began haggling with the town's people over the cost of supplies and making deliveries. Others were looking over wares brought in from the merchants, yet still it seemed there were still many that would through hateful looks at Rosalie as they walked. Sneers and glares seemed to weigh down her shoulders as they made their way through the market. Many looked as id they wanted nothing more than to watch her be ripped to pieces, sending hatful looks to Hasmed when the realization that they were walking together dawned. Even with him by her side the angry, fearful expressions did not subside.