Ambrose observed as Veronica turned her head to look back at himself and Giovani, slowing her pace to fall in line between them. With a wicked smile directed at him, she said, “We’re well outside of any threat now soldier. It is high past time I got to see the face of the man who saved me,” she chuckled at that, continuing, “Who would have thought I needed saving! From a horse no doubt!”
They had made it exited the outer gates and passed his home some days ago it felt, yet to his horror the sun had only just started in the direction of the horizon an hour or so ago. It had been a queer, foreign feeling as he walked down his usual, distressed path; sober, with purpose, and continuing on past the only house he had ever lived in. Instincts almost set his feet to turn at his gates’ entrance, and he had stared at his home despairingly, wondering if it would be the last time he would ever see it. Giovani’s laughter broke the spell, calling out the bolt that was stationed in his garden. In the bright of day, Ambrose could see the blood-stained patch of dirt, with clothes and the bottom half of a man present.
“Seems Thomas had a good flight! Ho ho!” Giovani had queerly added.
Everything was agony, his body aching all over; feet reduced to bricks that dragged, shoulders seeking mercy from the weight they bore, his lips dried and flaking into his helmet, and his eyes heavy curtains that were prepared to close. It wasn’t the princess that had kept him moving, but the chariot she rode in. He heard and could sense it growing closer, with his collapse all but sealing the end of his journey. He suppressed the thought growing - a gnawing that told him that would be preferred to continuing any further.
The surroundings had done well, to an extent, to keep Ambrose’s spirits up; the shade of the towering elms greatly cooled him, the dirt ground much softer on his feet than the concrete of the main road, and the wonder of the journey peaking his interest. Ambrose had never left Runswick, and living outside the city he had always felt more inclined to head in a busier direction rather than the desolate outskirts he found himself in now. He reckoned the only reason the path seemed to be patted was due to High Hillford soldiers, for travel was seldom to and from the self-sufficient country that was Runswick. And even then the path was rough on the carriage, causing the majority of all noise as it fumbled over rocks and dirt.
He hadn’t noticed it, but Ambrose was the last to remove any armor from his group of soldiers tasked with the chariot, too preoccupied with putting one foot forward and not falling from exhaustion. Presently, he removed his helmet, finding that the fresh air was a welcome relief. The sun could not be seen overhead, only allowing pillars of cascading light to fall between the branches and thickets of the trees. Above him, the sky was more brown and green than the blue he was so accustomed to looking at each morning. He thought himself blessed to be in this shade now, the sun in the city combined with the unfamiliar weight of his armor exercising both his muscles and his spirit. The bags under his eyes were extremely present, and he couldn't help himself from groaning and circling his neck to feel more like one with the living.
“Well,” Veronica said, studying him like one may study a cow before deciding to purchase, “you’re certainly not sore on the eyes, yet your eyes do look quite sore. Nerves before the battle I assume? Understandable, even commendable as it was your first true fight. I imagine all of you soldiers will sleep well tonight. And what is your name, soldier?”
“The name is Ambrose, captain. Ambrose Nola.” He said it without thinking, his mind busy trying to form thoughts and thwart both the hangover and whispers of where his next sip of alcohol may come from. As he said it, he bit his lip, wondering if his blunt honesty was an error.
“Ambrose Nola,” Veronica said, “Your face and name are all new to me, soldier. Why is that?”
Ambrose shot a glance at Gio, whose lip was curled out and shoulders shrugging. Ambrose kept a brave face as he readied his lie, “I’ve been both busy and reclusive, admittedly captain. Nerves and tension, a wicked mix don’t you agree? This new land, it’s lack of...faith. Queer and unsettling.”
Veronica pierced through him, judgement furrowing her brow. Before she could say anything, Sebastian had begun to also fall in line with the three of them, interrupting: “Indeed soldier. Queer and detestable is what I would call it. I can respect your nerves, even my own sleep was ruined last night. Veronica - just because this man was not present for your nightly escort contests, shouldn’t mean he needs interviewing.”
Veronica scowled at Sebastian, and between them, Ambrose’s newest confusion sensed some sexual tension in the air. He kept quiet, thanking Sebastian’s intervention.
“Don’t you know jealousy is a sin Sebastian? You should know of my family's ways, and you should save your judgment on the topic of multiple partners for men before you start with me.”
“You dare lecture me about the definition of sin? Less than two years a follower and you know more about my faith than I do?”
“All I’m saying is don’t start crying if you hear us fucking in the woods when we stop to search for food,” Veronica said, winking at Ambrose. The confusion was now both in his head and his pants.
“You’re a bitch, Veronica! A wicked, cross- ah!” Sebastian said, his face blushed and eyes seething. Forcefully, he returned to his original, long-strided pace, stammering off and separating himself from the three of them.
“Damn sister, you break another man's heart?” Giovani said.
“Another candidate, Giovani. And I only meant to break his hymen.” She laughed, elbowing Ambrose in the side. It was sharp and strong, nearly knocking the wind from him.
“You are something else Veronica.” Giovani said, shaking his head.
“Jealousy from you too, brother? He was a good lay since you probably wonder. Very quick but as expected from his chastised life. Should he improve, he will become a brother to you.” She pointed now at Giovani, “I have to be selective, due to your failure as a man.” She spit at the ground right in front of Giovani’s next step.
Giovani only looked straight, his face apathetic, a first in Ambrose’s eye even when the man had been a mute bartender.
“You see, my brother here is afraid to bed a woman,” Veronica started, “So it is on me to find the next, strongest blood to continue the Visconti way. And while you’re a long shot, Ambrose of the family Nola, you did save a Visconti today. A credential that is yours alone in this world, I dare presume. Besides - victory always arouses me.” She winked again, before slapping his rear end. He felt hot and thanked the heavens when she moved away from them both to attend to the men pushing the carriage.
Ambrose presented puzzlement to Giovani, but the man was still looking forward. Gio raised a hand to his eye, wiping it before softly slapping himself. Ambrose left it at that, for now.
<><><><><>
The talk of halting, food and possibly a rest from his feet had given him something to look forward to. The idea of making a bed with Veronica out in the woods, where the brush around them was heavy and bugs now persistent in the afternoon, was one he decided to let play out rather than worry about now. But even that had been two or so hours ago, and now even Giovani seemed to be getting restless. The man drank deeply next to him from a pouch that strapped around his shoulder and underneath his other armpit. It seemed worth a house in Ambrose’s eyes, who could have cried over the spillage that came from the sides of his mouth and clung to the man's mustache.
Gio glanced over to him, seeing Ambrose’s tired eyes deep in his sockets, “You need a drink pal?” Giovani said.
“More than a fish, yes.” Ambrose croaked.
Giovani didn’t hand over the pouch, instead, he pulled a small, corked bottle from his pocket. Ambrose’s vigor instantly returned at the sight, seeing and purchasing such bottles many times over at the barrel bottom; distilled alcohol. Saliva that he had been searching an hour for returned to his throat.
Giovani put the bottle within reach, and as Ambrose went to grab it, Giovani pulled it back, “Whoops!”
Ambrose looked at him, distraught and beseeching, “Giovani, friend, I beg you. I feel as if I could die without that.”
“Exactly, friend of mine! You have a major issue with booze. We are far from a bar, and this is all the alcohol I have left. I’ll help you as you once helped me.” Giovani pulled out a second, identical bottle.
“You said that was the last-” Ambrose said, interrupted by the horror of Giovani spilling most of the contents from the second bottle to the ground. Ambrose reached out, his hands becoming wet and sticky as he cut in on the pouring liquid. Giovani tilted the bottle back up, leaving an inch and a half of liquid left in the glass container.
Ambrose looked at Giovani, watching the man's face twist to a slightly disgusted expression as he licked his hands. He felt much more relief than he did shame.
“By mar, Ambrose,” Giovani said, housing the still full bottle on one side and uncorking his pouch of water, “That was the most desperate act I’ve ever seen. And I have met many addicts before.”
Ambrose watched as Giovani filled the contents of the bottle with water, before it was handed to him. He drank from it fast, deeply, and without any reserve. His mouth was stretched around the entirety of its opening, unwilling to let a drop be wasted. The aftertaste of alcohol was present, yet too weak for his demon’s liking.
“Shit, that’s good but I need more Gio!” Ambrose said, his eyes wide looking at the man's belt where the bottle had been placed.
“It’s an old trick, Ambrose, we’re going to wean you off this forsaken liquid. You keep that bottle close, and another ounce or so will be yours tomorrow cut with water. Next week we’ll make it half an ounce, that should stave off the withdrawal symptoms.”
Ambrose’s face contorted slightly, his mind suppressing any gratitude in favor of treason, “Let’s start with two ounces then! Two then we’ll make it one and a half! You know my drinking friend, that was not enough for-”
“Protest and I break the bottle.” Giovani said, his lips pursed as he removed and raised the bottle in the air, his elbow bent and ready to throw into the woods around them. When Ambrose only watched and didn’t offer a reply, Giovani smirked with a satisfied victory, before returning the bottle to his side.
Ambrose admittedly felt better instantly from the small amount he was given. Nevertheless, the existence and position of the bottle’s whereabouts remained more conscious to him than the chariot behind him or the sun above him. He wanted it, needed it, and would not soon let go of this feeling.
Not long after that, a banging began from inside the chariot.
“Hello! I need some assistance!” Elenor cried out.
In front of them, Sebastian raised a hand in the air, and the chariot came to a halt. The four men towing the carriage either collapsed to the ground or found a leaning on the chariot itself. Each groaned heavily and stretched, removing boots and shaking out the dirt and rock contents accumulating in them. At that, Ambrose once again felt pretty lucky at not being asked to aid them.
Sebastian then shouldered past Ambrose, knocking him off his feet. Giovani had spun away and reached a hand to help, but Ambrose continued to lay there. The relief was surreal to be off his feet.
“What do you want, Princess.” Sebastian called back.
“The bathroom! I hope you aren’t savage enough to deny me that and expect me to filthy this carriage!”
Sebastian shook his head, “We are a few miles from camp, surely you can hold-”
“And surely you can try to hold your bladder while hitting every damn bump in the road! Or perhaps you would like to clean up after me!” Small taps and could be heard from within the steel cell, as Elenor bounced and squirmed from one foot to another.
Sebastian sighed, tilting his body to find Veronica still behind the chariot, “Veronica, you understand-”
“You think me a fool, Sebastian?” Veronica started, hopping up and onto the carriage, “I am well aware of her dress and its ability, and have already thought of a solution so that I don’t need to look directly at her.”
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“I was only making sure.” Sebastian said, removing one of his own boots and shaking it out.
Before she unlatched the metal holding that was Elenor’s prison, Veronica unfastened her whip from her waist, where it fell to the ground and came to life. The snake hissed and moved between its master’s feet, and as soon as Veronica cracked open the metal box, the whip darted inside.
Elenor screamed, sending Ambrose’s heart to flight. He took a step forward, but Giovani outstretched his arm across his breastplate and stopped any forward momentum. Ambrose spun his head towards Gio, where the man looked at him puzzlingly. Subtly, he shook his head, and Ambrose was once again forced to be a bystander.
“Damn it! I do believe I peed a little!” Elenor said, her voice now clear and unmuffled as the door came open.
Ambrose watched as Elenor stepped out of her holding, his eyes widening as he saw the snake that wrapped around the whole of her neck. He noticed how Veronica stared off in the woods, not just ignoring her but purposely avoiding her. Further scanning found that he was alone in watching the princess, as Giovani and the four soldiers sought a distraction. When he returned his gaze to the princess, she was looking at him with a face filled with fear. It was brief, as he forcefully pushed to the ground from the back. Then a foot stomped on him, pinning him to the ground.
“Soldier!” Sebastian yelled, his booming voice like thunder in the quiet of the woods, “Are you daft? We have specifically told you not to look directly at her! We still don’t know what that damn dress does!”
“Y-yes sir! My mistake sir!” Ambrose said in a hoarse, choked voice. Sebastian let his foot off, allowing Ambrose to rise to his knees. He wanted to look towards the princess, to see just how embarrassed she must feel to have her life in the balance of someone so inferior but thought better than to stir Sebastian once again.
Veronica hopped off the chariot, and Elenor followed. She told the princess what it would mean should she try to escape, the snake hissing close to her ear as she did, and Elenor sounded defeated as she acknowledged it. Ambrose heard the sound of brush being walked through, before being told his duties by Sebastian.
“You four manning the carriage, split and find something of substance. Same to you two.” He pointed at Ambrose and Giovani, “We should need all but one night and a morning’s worth of food. Anyone who comes back empty-handed will be left to bed on an empty stomach. Between fruit and game, there is plenty to be found in these woods. Understood?”
“And what about yourself?” Giovani inquired.
“I’ll be hunting and manning the chariot,” Sebastian said, unsheathing his great sword from his back.
“Right! Well, let’s be off soldier!” Giovani said, slapping the back of Ambrose before bouncing off through the thick brush. As he went to follow, Sebastian reached an arm out and caught his shoulder.
“Now listen well, Nola,” Sebastian was in his ear now, sending a chill down his spine, “Nerves are one thing, but I am getting more and more perplexed at who you are. You don’t sound like one of my soldiers, and I do not remember your face. You had a lucky break today, saving Veronica should prove your legitimacy, but bedding her will only make me want to forget your face for good. I will not have any more of my garrison taking my woman. Do you understand?”
Ambrose wondered just how much sweating he could possibly do today, and he felt as if his next words were but steps on a tightrope, “I-I don’t want to bed the captain, sir. She is your lady.”
“Your daftness knows no bounds, it matters not what you want; she is the captain, a Visconti, and she wants you. Should you find yourself inside of her, know that your own blade will be a better death than by my hand.” Sebastian pushed Ambrose, making him stumble forward and trip into the first layer of brush. If it hadn’t been for his gloves, his hands would have been met with thorns. He got to his feet, looking back at Sebastian as the man changed his attention and grasped his sword with two hands. In the distance where he looked, Ambrose saw the copy of Sebastian already passed the first of the brush, before walking out of sight.
Either Giovani was extremely nimble, or Ambrose was more exhausted than he realized. It took him several minutes to find his friend, with no noise or path evident as he sought him, but finally, a small clearing came within sight. No more than five yards to either side, the area provided the most direct sunshine they had found since entering the forest, with tall trees and brush walling the circular space. The grass was tall, but welcoming and warm in the sun. In it, Giovani lay on his back, repeatedly tossing an extremely dark dagger up in the air before catching it between his thumb and pointer finger. Ambrose cared enough to watch the strange and dangerous act once, before collapsing to his stomach.
“I dare say I haven’t been this tired in my life. How do soldiers wear such heavy armor all day? What I would do for clean silks right now!” Ambrose said, his cheek pressed to the grass.
“Aren’t you a farmer? I would think this would be usual for a man of labor like yourself.”
“Ha! A man of labor. You give me far too much credit. I’m as much of a laborious farmer as you are a mute barkeep!” The two men laughed together.
“I will tell you,” Giovani started, “I rather enjoyed my tenure at the barrel’s bottom.”
“And I enjoyed your drinks!”
“That you did, two too many I may add! Truly a fun chapter for me.” Giovani pulled at the grass, tossing it in the air and watching as the wind carried it to his right.
“How did it get to this point then, G? Or Gio, or Giovani? What is it that you prefer?”
“What is it that I prefer,” Giovani laughed, “That may be the first time someone has asked me that! Well, I guess my friends call me G. Simple and not burdensome on the speaker, right?.”
“I haven’t heard Sebastian call you G once.” Ambrose argued.
“That would be because he is no friend of mine,” Giovani sat up, “A partner in a great plot, sure. But I’m afraid to say I dislike the man very much. Military men in general I think, not my preferred company.”
“And yet here we are.” Ambrose said, turning to his back and slapping his chest plate, “You still like me even though I have the military look?”
“The look is one thing, but you are far from the military my funny friend.”
The wind came stronger then, cool and relaxing. They both listened, the silence between them filled with the rustling of leaves, swaying of branches and sounds from birds overhead.
Finally, Ambrose asked: “So, can you let me in on what exactly this ‘big plot’ you guys have? I mean, everything today has been so bizarre, I just can’t even begin to guess the purpose of it all! For what reason could you holy hooligans be taking the princess of Runswick? You have enough gold-plated armor in this one troop to mortgage a new castle, so I can’t suspect a ransom. Plus the only man in power to grant a payment died horribly this morning! What is your end game really, G?”
“It’s funny you ask that, for I had the same question for you.” Giovani turned to his side, his head supported by his hand and elbow dug into the ground, “I saw the way you looked to your princess, you can’t possibly think to save her, can you?”
Ambrose flushed, “One question at a time! You first.”
“Fair enough. The truth is, I don’t know the entire truth of it myself. Neither does my sister, nor Sebastian, believe it or not. I suspect we’re all clouded a bit, even those pulling the strings. But the fact is, what we did today was inevitable. Chaos and calamity are on the horizon, my friend. As it was one thousand years ago, or so legend has it. Never was a believer in folktales, but I do feel that bishop is more than on to something. It’s like there’s been a change in the air. But you probably wouldn’t understand that.” With his offhand, Giovani was flicking and waving his wrist around, like a man conducting an orchestra.
Ambrose frowned, “I don’t understand a lot, ‘tis true. But I can make you a wager-”
“Ah, ah,” Giovani waved a finger, “Wager me after you answer my question. The princess, do you intend to save her?”
Ambrose looked at him dubiously, “If I do, do you intend to stop me?”
“That all depends on your reason friend.”
“Well,” Ambrose started, “I could sit here and tell you that I thought she was fond of me at a time, and that I royally screwed that up. Save the beautiful princess, win her heart, and live happily ever after! But even I am not that big of a fool. To be honest, I’d like to think that even without that encounter I would still be where I am now. King Whitewood was a good king, good to the people I mean. Obviously, his military preparedness was lacking considerably, but he never wronged a citizen I knew! And you know me - I knew plenty of people in Runswick. His daughter, the Queen now, is even more exceptional.
Sometimes G, I can barely live with myself. If I let her be taken off knowing that I could have done something, well I might as well dig my grave now. And while I know you think my odds are damned; Sebastian, Veronica, yourself it seems could slay me cold quite easily, I do think that a chance is worth living or dying for. A chance to do something exceptional, you know? I’m sure you feel that you are on your way to being exceptional, and I do commend that even if I disagree with the methods. In short, I wanted to do something rather than nothing. I was a dead man walking before today anyway.”
Giovani wrinkled his brow in response, the words both greatly understood and sending him to meditation. He nodded subtly to himself but responded with no words.
“So my wager!” Ambrose continued, “Was this feeling of change specific to a day? And if so, was it nearly three weeks ago?” Ambrose let the question linger until Giovani side-eyed him with intrigue, “Was it the same day King Whitewood, the late King Whitewood, held his noon soiree in the capital?”
Giovani smirked, “A good guess friend. The king knew something for sure.”
“As did I! I can’t quite explain it, but I just felt a bit clearer-headed that day. Confident even, stronger to a degree. Admittedly most probably did, testosterone flowing madly with all the discussions of joining the ranks and whatnot. But I certainly felt something.” Ambrose loosened his right leg’s armor, just enough to reach within and fetch his silver coin.
Giovani stalled all motion with his hand, still watching Ambrose. He watched as the man mouthed something to himself, before flipping the coin in the air. When it landed, Ambrose looked at it, then clenched it in his fist and responded to the result with a sigh. Before Giovani could press forward, he became distracted by the falling of leaves behind Ambrose, the green leaves falling listlessly in the wind. And then between them, more leaves fell.
He looked up then and saw from the branches around the clearing that a plethora of leaves were beginning to fall. He thought something of it, but couldn’t connect it, as he returned to his questioning of his surprising friend: “What is the story with that coin of yours?”
“If I tell you, will you tell me about-” Ambrose paused, scanning Giovani’s hands and then waist, “Where did you put your dagger?”
Giovani smiled, returning to his waving of the wrist, “I asked first - your rule, remember?”
“Fair enough. It was my father's coin, his lucky coin as he called it. It’s never done me wrong, although I’d argue it hasn’t done me a ton right on this day. The damn thing has been laughing at me all day, with the joke seemingly my very existence mind you! I just wonder if I can save the princess today - can I, you silly coin?” Again, Ambrose flipped his coin.
As he did, other events around him unfolded; Giovani flicked his wrist and cut down his seventh wild animal since their rest began, Sebastian’s double sliced through a thicket of bushes, and Veronica’s snake hissed and made itself more comfortable on the shoulders of Elenor as she made water. They were close, too close, and too many.
Ambrose almost lost sight of the coin, as it rose and found itself company in the air. More leaves were falling from the trees, a green hail that slowly drifted down, but his flick had been true and it landed where it had started. As he slapped the coin onto the back of his other hand, Giovani’s hand froze. Giovani slowly started to rise to a sitting position, and Ambrose followed him with excited speed.
“Ah ha!” Ambrose exclaimed, “It’s a yes! And not just heads either!” Ambrose watched, amazed as three small figures moved with haste in the diameter of the coin. Never before had a yes answer animated itself like a no always had, only offering a vague assurance to Ambrose’s qualms. But now it did, and it was apparent that one of the figures was a female wearing a dress, and one of the men wielding a small dagger as they seemed to run in place, yet run very quickly.
“Uh, something is very strange,” Giovani started, and as he turned to look at Ambrose he saw the growing number of leaves that had fallen on the grass accumulate quickly. Not only that but while newer leaves fell with fresh green color, the ones that had already fallen started to change color. It was the middle of summer, and now Giovani backtracked to the thought that had been forming when he realized the phenomenon.
“Ambrose - two things to consider; why are the leaves falling then turning to autumn shades in the dead heat of summer? And second, my dagger seems to be coming back to me, but not on my whim.”
Ambrose shifted from being enthralled with his coin to observing their surroundings, seeing now that even more leaves were falling around them, and that G was correct on the impossible color change. Ambrose picked up one of the red leaves on the ground next to him, twisting it around and watching closely as the stem began to brown. It only took a few seconds before the deep red withered and was replaced with the brown of late autumn. Looking up dream-like, as hundreds or thousands of leaves began to impede the sun from shining directly on them. The lush trees bordering the clearing were replaced by bare branches, and when he returned his eyes to the leaf in his hand he found the plant withering and flaking away. Rubbing the leaf between his pointer finger and thumb revealed just how brittle the leaf had become, and he was soon left with only the stem in hand.
He was too lost in the strangeness to hear the incoming hooves, “What the fuck-”
“Look out Ambrose!” Giovani yelled, springing, grabbing, and rolling with Ambrose a yard to the side. Through the brush and exploding into the clearing, a massive warthog of grey fur blitzed by where the two of them had laid.
Ambrose and G looked wide-eyed as the beast circled at the edge of the small clearing, squealing with pain and anger as it turned in their direction. Thick tusks curled symmetrically to either side, a few inches off from forming a perfect circle. It flared its nostrils, and between its eyes one could make it the point of a dagger protruding out. As it breathed, a black smoke-like soot seemed to emanate from its being. Instead of wafting, the smoke clung to the exterior of the animal, bordering the beast in an intense, deadly atmosphere. Its eyes were piercing seas of black.
“Gio what is that beast!” Ambrose said panicking.
“I thought of a warthog, but that thing is unholy! And that’s my dagger in it’s brain! How can it still be moving like that!”
Once again, the hog bore down on them. Gio had tried before he saw the beast to dislodge his dagger with a wave of his hand, and knew it now was vain. Instead, he turned the blade from vertical to horizontal where it was lodged in the animal's skull, enough to send the hog to the ground and writhe in pain. Kicking and squealing, Gio deftly reached and unsheathed Ambrose’s sword, sprinting at the beast where it lay. He jumped, landing with all his force into the cheek of the hog, and lodging the blade through the animal and deeply in the soft ground to pin it where it was. Its jaw stuck open with the sword in place, Gio was able to call his blade out through its agape mouth, although the animal still squirmed and screamed.
Giovani ran from the animal, and Ambrose followed his lead. They headed back in the direction they came, panting and hearts racing, as a tree from somewhere in the direction they were headed fell with a great and loud force that shook the ground they accelerated on.