The Missing Stone

Artificial

Maris yawns, leaning against Glenn's back atop the horse.

It isn't a lesson, but it's the first time Maris has ever ridden a horse before, and it's with Glenn, so he supposes it's fine. He's still very tired though.

They've been traveling on horseback with the Almyran forces for a day now, receiving many, many strange looks. He's already forgiven Nader for scaring the crap out of him, but he would rather not spend any time alone with him.

Maris is anxious, the feeling of those dreadful eyes...

We're being followed. But he doesn't want to inconvenience anyone so he keeps his mouth shut. Whatever it is, Maris should be able to handle it now that he has a tome. The map that Holst had given them lay spread out on Maris' lap. They'll reach Deridru within a day after setting camp, which should be soon considering the setting sun...

"Maris, wake up."

"Huh?" Maris groggily lifts his head where it had been leaning against Glenn's back. "I...wasn't sleeping..." He slumps forward, still tired. He panics when he tilts forward too far, on the verge of falling when Glenn catches him.

"Woah, there," He says, gently setting Maris on his feet. "Do you want some food?"

"Mmph," is his only response before he trudges towards the smell of food, rubbing his eyes open. Almyran food is served straight from the pot and eaten immediately, given no time to cool off. They say that if you let it cool the spices will get you instead, and Maris isn't a big fan of the long suffering burn of some mildly spicy food.

It's anything but mild though, but Maris will take his chances as he lines up with Glenn.

"Do you think they'll serve the same thing again?" Glenn wonders, bumping shoulders with Maris. He shrugs.

"Probably not. Some of them were bragging this afternoon about bringing down a large boar," he snorts, remembering the hunters cheering and whooping in delight. "Maybe meat stew." Glenn hums.

Since Maris knows more Almyran out of the two of them, he often has to figure out what some of the soldiers are saying to Glenn. Like one time one of the younger ones wanted to spar with him, speaking in Almyran. While Glenn didn't understand what they were saying, he obliged when they gave him a weapon and tugged him to a training square.

Afterwards the young soldier walked up to Maris during tea and asked, "Does he really have a scar on his butt?" Maris had spat out his tea all over his desk and proceeded to fall on the floor wheezing.

Now he smiles at the memory, taking his own bowl of stew from the cook before heading to his tent beside Nader's to eat alone. Maris was right. It is meat stew. He's lifting a spoonful to his mouth when a shadow passes by his tent. Probably Glenn passing by to his own tent.

He ignores it, stuffing the hot bite into his mouth and swallowing swiftly, the stew leaving a burning trail all the way down his chest as it passes through his throat. He grimaces, takes another bite, swallows.

When Maris is done he leaves the bowl next to him to take in the morning. A clatter and a foriegn curse echoes from next door. Nader's at it again. Maris sighs, lying down to force himself to sleep so morning comes sooner.

-

"Why should we?"

"Sir, with all due respect, it would be a waste of resources-"

"The experiment has already failed, their consciousnesses ended up in the same body. This one is but an empty shell. Use the other one's body to your heart's content."