Marcel was still chewing on the root as he stepped out from the monastery grounds and saw the two tall shapes by the stables. Behind him, Michael and Abraham were rustling tall backpacks of equipment scrounged from the Order’s hall. They had packed everything the books had suggested - even the book itself.
At the back of his backpack, Marcel had fastened the blue-and-yellow kite shield; a relic to most, but his most favored of all the items in the armory. At his hip, he had his half-sword - a straight, short thing that he had found freshly sharpened at the foot of his bed as he awoke.
Michael harbored a smidgen of jealousy of Abraham’s comparatively light pack. He wore a new, green robe adorned with the symbol of the hammer - undoubtedly gifted to him from Isaac’s private collection. His chosen weaponry for the outing was a long, simple spear crafted from old birch - a solid, light and durable weapon he had both the skill and experience to wield. The sharp steel tip at the end was an ancient hand-me-down, neatly polished and oiled for years before it was adorned on the birch pole - all his own making.
Bear and Logan stood with crossed arms, facing one-another to discuss in a hushed murmur in front of the honorable hound. The massive warrior shot a narrow eye towards the proud trio of approaching adventurers before turning back to nod at the Ghast. “You keep them safe, I’ll do the same for the rest of the town. Lord willing that fuck stays locked up in my office for the day.” Logan bowed his head gracefully.
“Of course. Remember, we’ll be back by sundown tomorrow. If there are any developments, hold off until our return. I’m not sure what’s going on with those generators, but I’d like to keep clear of that area if we can.” The two warriors met eyes, then locked arms in the tight shake of a warrior - a greeting that both felt honored to receive.
The clattering of cans and pans signaled that the trio had arrived by the stable. Both veterans turned to look at the three conscripts with mirroring bemusement. At least until Bear raised his massive palm to his forehead.
It was obvious to all that Marcel had misunderstood the instructions and had taken far too large a pinch of the poppy-dust. As for the other two, their wide grins quickly faded as Bear stated: “Are you trying to get the Ghast killed? We could hear you coming from across the mountain - what is all that equipment?” Abraham and Michael shot one-another stone-faced mimes, suspecting the sun would rise long before they had satisfied their Master. .
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“Repack!”
Bear, as opposed to Isaac, was not one for emotional sappiness. The difference between them had never been more obvious than when Logan finally got on Zeke’s back and began trotting towards the open gate. Isaac and Abraham both wiped their glistening eyes and saluted one-another with straight backs and quivering lips.
“I-I’ll be back tomorrow evening, Father Isaac. Trust me - I’ll make you proud to be my Master. This might be my first outing, but it won’t be my last. Next time, we’ll go together - as equals.” Isaac raised the sleeve of his robe to dab at his eyes and bowed down low. “When you return, I’ll expect you to call me brother, Abraham. Please- remember all that I’ve taught you out there. And stick close to Logan!”
Next to them, Bear watched his halfwit apprentices grin at him - one barely capable of standing in place, whereas the other had still failed to holster his spear inside his reach. Still, they were as he had made them - a pair of warriors.
“Stay low out there. And don’t forget, it’s better to live to fight another day.” Michael saluted his Master with a stern grimace and spoke an acknowledging: “Yes, Sir!”, shortly followed by his brother’s echo. “And Marcel…” Bear spoke lowly, staring into the golden-haired twin’s narrow pupils with a warning: “No more of that powder until you’re back.”
The boys had to jog to keep up with the Ghast and his hound and, although sweating profusely, they journeyed up the hill with feet that had never felt so light. The breeze, the smell of distant grass - it had always been a distant dream to them; one reserved for the adults- the warriors. Now, as they sprinted up the shady path, jumping in between rocks and peaceful creeks, they were in it.
Logan and Zeke came to a halt atop the elevation, where the pair waited for the sweaty trio to catch up. The Ghast made certain to watch as their heads bobbed over the hill to catch the first sight of it - to see those eyes as they were born into a new world; a world that had always been beyond their reach.
They had never seen anything like it. From the chain of mountains they stood on, the land descended into what appeared to be unending fields of green; grass and trees swaying in the powerful gusts. Rivers glistening with reflected sunlight, twinkling with the brightness of exploding stars. But most amazing, by far, was the vast sea to their right - an unending field of deep blue, lined with peachy sands. Even the air seemed to pulsate with life - the faint scent of salty waters, chlorophyll and pollen; a world outside those tall, shameful walls.
Logan watched them behold the scenery with teary eyes with a smile behind his mask. But it was not the tears that moved him so, nor was it their joy of being free… it was that look - that hunger in their eyes. The makings of true Ghasts.