Time Lapse

Chapter 6 ~ Mirage ~

Traversing the northeastern edge of Caryopsis, the sun bore down upon two shining armored figures, casting elongated shadows across the arid landscape. "How long till we're there?" the middle-aged knight inquired, his brow glistening as he wiped away the sweat.

"Last time I left for Lord Byvern's, it took us two days. But there was more of us back then," the other knight replied, glancing back at the trailing line of stragglers. He absentmindedly ran his fingers along the curled tips of his imperial mustache. Concern was written on his weathered face. "Less of us means more opportunity for the sandistas to attack," he added, his worries evident as he eyed the group of slaves following behind.

"We'll have to make the trip quick to meet the local lords," the older knight stated.

"Why do you care so much about them?" the younger knight questioned, his gaze piercing.

"You don't get a thing. I'd think someone your age would understand better. Come nightfall, you'll see," the seasoned knight replied cryptically, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience.

With a shared nod, the two knights continued their journey, their armor glinting in the harsh sunlight. Obligated to follow their king's orders, they pushed forward, determined to reach their destination despite the ominous events of the previous knight in Histolytica. As the day wore on, they tried to forget the strange scene, but the memory lingered like a shadow, casting doubt upon their path.

As midday passed and the sun reached its zenith, the knights continued their relentless journey, the rhythm of their steeds' hooves echoing across the desert expanse. Suddenly, the older knight brought his mount to an abrupt halt, its hand signaling for the group to stop.

Turning back to survey the line of weary slaves, he called out, "How is everyone?" He reached down to slide slings of clay water containers down the slide-like tail of his mount, which dragged across the desert sand.

"Anyone who needs a break, just raise your hands," he announced, his voice carrying over the weary group. Several slaves lifted their arms in exhaustion, their breaths ragged from the restless march.

The younger knight's impatience surfaced as he muttered, "Come on already! We'd get there faster if we just abandoned them. We both know King Fluke wouldn't care if none of them came back."

"Watch your tongue when you speak to your vice-captain. I don't mind stripping you of your armor and sharing it with the feys." The elder knight meant business. The other knight scoffed at his claim, not taking his threat seriously. Crack!

The knight backhanded the soldier off his mount, landing on his back with his legs up like a dead bug. The slaves began laughing at his rough fall. "Listen to your elders next time," he said, rubbing the back of his hand, stinging from his slap. "And I'll discipline whoever else disrespects me. Our job is to gather forces, not lose them." He gestured broadly with his arms, emphasizing the importance of their mission.

The slaves regarded Vice-Captain Lant cautiously, unable to comprehend his unexpected display of fairness and neutrality. It was unusual for commanders, especially someone of Lant's stature in Histolytica, to show concern for a fey's well-being. They couldn't help but wonder why he was insistent on earning their trust, a sentiment that sparked curiosity and uncertainty among the weary travelers.

Lant dismounted from his clatter with practiced ease, checking his inventory meticulously before handing out supplies among the slaves. "Sir Rak, I believe you should stop being so dramatic and rise already," he remarked coolly to the fallen knight. Rak, still recovering from the abrupt blow, slowly rolled over and struggled to sit himself up, his vision still hazy from the force of Lant's assault.