Defying Equilibrium

Chapter 9: Many questions and many bowls of soup

Oscar awoke to the smell of something cooking. After a moment of confusion, he remembered where he was, and remembered the events of yesterday. He climbed out of bed and made his way down towards the main room. He was still fully dressed in his clothes from yesterday. He stuck his head in the doorway, and was surprised to see Dare sitting up at the table. Dare saw him and greeted him.

“How are you already walking around?” Oscar asked incredulously. “You should be resting and giving your wounds time to heal properly!”

Dare grinned and shook his head, sending his long unbound hair in all directions. “I'm fine. Just a scratch,” he laughed. He lifted up his shirt and Oscar could see the mass of bandages surrounding his wound. “I'm all patched up. Besides,” he gestured to Ahmed, who was standing at the stove stirring a pot, “he said he was making food, so what was I supposed to do? Not get up and eat some?”

Oscar laughed. Dare was definitely back to his usual self. Ahmed mustn’t have told him what he told me, thought Oscar.

“I've already told him as much as I told you,” Ahmed said, knowing full well how much Oscar hated it when he knew what he was thinking.

Oscar turned to Dare in shock. “He's already told you?” he asked incredulously. “And... and you believe him? Why are you so calm about this?”

Dare shrugged. “It all just makes so much sense, I guess. I'd never really thought much about it before, about why we were at war.” Oscar knew that Dare was an extremely 'roll with the punches' kind of person, but this was extreme, even for him. How could he so easily accept what Ahmed was saying? It went against everything they'd been taught.

Oscar turned back to Ahmed and glared at him. “Well, unlike my friend, I'm not just going to blindly accept what you're telling us,” he said. “How do we know you're telling the truth? And how can we trust the word of a Swordsman? And what did you mean when you said we have the potential to change people's opinions?”

“Asking three questions in a row is a habit of yours, isn't it?” Ahmed said. “It's rather irritating.” Oscar continued glaring at him. He sighed. “Fine, fine. The only way for you to believe me would be for me to earn your trust, and you will want me to prove my claims to earn it, won't you?” Oscar nodded. “Well, we can come back to that later. First, let me answer your third question. What I meant was, if you two can show the people a Swordsman and a Shielder working and fighting side by side, you can succeed in uniting the two forces against the common enemy. The ones behind the war itself.”

“So you want one of us to become a Shielder and team up with you?” Oscar asked with suspicion.

Ahmed shook his head. “No, Oscar. I cannot be the one to end this war. I intend to train you to be a Swordsman.”

“Me?” Oscar asked, lost. “But why? Why would I want to become a Swordsman in the first place? And isn't that a little presumptuous, considering that we just met you yesterday?”

Ahmed rolled his eyes. “Again, with the three consecutive questions. It's a little annoying. You have the abilities to become a great Swordsman, Oscar. I know that from watching you fight. And I know that you wouldn't necessarily want to become one, but I know that you would if it would end the war. And I don't need time to make up my mind. Time is an irrelevant concept in the short life of one man.”

Oscar was still not completely convinced. He was suspicious by nature, and however much what Ahmed said made sense, he couldn't reconcile the idea that there were puppet-masters behind this war, and that Swordsmen and Shielders could work together. He needed proof before he was willing to accept anything.

“You want that proof, don't you?” Ahmed smirked knowingly.

“How the hell do you do that!? Can you read my mind?” Oscar all but shouted.

Ahmed laughed. “You and I are extremely alike, Oscar. You think exactly the same way that I do, so all I have to do is think how I myself would react to what I am saying. I cannot tell what Dare is thinking, because his thoughts are a little more, well, scattered.” Dare was not the least bit insulted by this. He was too busy drooling at the sight of food.

Oscar scowled. “I am nothing like you, Swordsman.”

“So unwilling to let go of your hatred, aren't you?” Ahmed sighed. “Very well then, I will give you the proof that you desire. But first,” he said, placing the pot he was stirring on the table, “First, we eat lunch.” This was not a suggestion, it was a command.

“Lunch?” Oscar asked. He thought it was only the morning.

“You were asleep for quite a long time. It's two o'clock in the afternoon.” Ahmed laughed. He was stirring a green liquid in the large copper pot, and he spooned it out into three bowls before handing them to both of the boys. “Soup. Enjoy.” he added and he passed the bowls.

Oscar and Dare hadn't eaten since noon the day before, so they were both starving. Oscar sat down and accepted his bowl of soup warily, as if suspecting it to be poisoned. Dare took his eagerly in both hands and began to eat immediately, caring little for table manners or etiquette. Even if it was poisoned, he probably would have just kept eating anyway. It was never a good idea to come between Dare and a meal.

It had taken no time at all for Dare to seemingly recover from his injuries, and he didn't seem to have been affected by what Ahmed said in the same way that Oscar had been. Oscar had to admire his resilience. Unlike a lot of their classmates, Oscar and Dare had not been raised to revere the war and the rule. They both grew up admiring Shielders, but at the same time being wary of war. When Dare's older brother Jackson had volunteered for the Shielder's Militia, a ten-year-old Dare had pleaded with him not to go, but then his opinions had changed. And although he almost never spoke of it, Oscar knew that Dare actually planned to volunteer himself one day. Oscar had selfishly hoped that day would never come, but he hoped that if Ahmed turned out to be telling the truth, then Dare would not join to fight a 'pointless' war.

Dare finished slurping up the last of his soup, and sighed contentedly. “Delicious,” he told Ahmed. “Any more?”