Tightening the grip I have on my senatorial sash and one of its standards, I cross over the ridge. The skies flash with lightning and my gaze shifts nervously towards it as another bolt strikes the ground near me. Searing pieces of metal and dirt slag towards me, cutting deep burns into my necessary vulnerability. I follow the sound of prayer and across the great distance, I spot a lone, wandering warrior as they seem to mind their business.
Taking another step, a line of curved, sharpened steel tinted with thunder-gold presses against my neck. Steadying my lungs, I can't help but focus on the warmth running down as my eyes tremble before the dramatic mask of the one threatening my life. His eyes do not leave me but he is otherwise able to spot what I have with me. The blade gently slides away, clicking back into its sheath with well-practised precision.
As if it was perfectly meant to be, a finger across oiled, silky skin.
Making a small gesture of prayer, the Thunder-Shogun reacts with a receptive one of his own and his strong-arm's side concave-shaped sangu is presented. I take care reading the name inscribed onto the collection of carefully woven together crimson-bronze plates. This man is called Okugahcles Hercuyasu, The Man Faster than the Brightest Bolt of Heaven. Moving my eyes away from this armour, I take careful note of the collection of gruesome talismans on his belt.
An array of finely treated scalps and still-kept hair.
I count the amount, "Revered master of the storms of Eusorochii, slayer of eighteen others, champion of the gods and great honourer of Thurnmourer's might... I come to you with a plea."
Holding up my request, I wait for the Thunder-Shogun to take it into his grip and my hand remains even as it becomes lighter. I hear the scroll unbind and come out in full, its wide face catching the strong winds that follow great men like him. It snaps shut and returns to my palm and I move it to being within my view. Minding where I am, I keep my smile and satisfaction on the inside alone and refuse to let anything come out.
The scroll comes down to my side with a newly added rattle. The Thunder-Shogun has added a bead off of his own decor as a sign of his word so that he does not violate his oath of non-pious silence. Bowing out of his way and making my way down into a state of prostration, the Thunder-Shogun goes back on his way, his direction shifting. Keeping my face on the ground, I take my time counting to a great number in the back of my mind, often recounting so calm my scared spirit.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
'Nine-hundred and ninety-nine... One-thousand...'
Rising to my feet, I can't help but place a hand under the back of my jaw. Even with all the fury of the sky rumbling and striking around me, I am having no trouble hearing my heart. My hand moves back towards my neck and it swipes across the painful line. It is almost a struggle to move my eyes away from the sight of my easily drawn blood.
Turning around as my hairs rise, I nearly jump like a spooked feline when I spot a man walking over the distant hills. Sighing my relief when nothing happens, I make a point of walking the opposite direction I came to put more distance between me and the Thunder-Shogun. I've gotten what I want, now I just need to get to the execution with my life still livable. Doing what I can, I begin the process of wiping my face clean.
To think there is someone other than the Emperor that a member of the Senate must prostrate himself towards. I find myself thinking back to the Thunder-Shogun's mask and what it depicted, a stern-faced king with curly hair and a crowning wreath. There are many rumours as to what the masks mean, the reasons they are made hidden to everyone not allowed within their sacred temple at the Lightning-Mountain itself. The closest I have ever been able to go is the sacred oracle occupying the Pythipollonion Baths.
Such mystery that it makes me almost jealous of how the lands up north have developed. Jherikra is feared for its capital is right on the source of all wind magic. Shining and brilliant emerald hair is quite common for the people of that place but the lustre of beautiful blondes and golden locks are not seen by many. I nod to myself, somewhat relaxed that a man with that kind of hair and thunder-kissed skin will be guarding a vast swathe of land before the execution grounds. If the Lady-Heir's painted visage is true, we will have a tangible match for an otherwise impossible look to behold.
"The lands have come alive since your return, Lady-Heir, whatever did you bring with you?" I ask the calming air as I think about how the Thunder-Shoguns have been acting. Pilgrimages have been becoming quite the talk of the Senate whenever it is not something more important to me. No one is quite sure what is going on but unrest is growing as a result of such strict warriors travelling the land. Holy sacrifices are tallying high and many farmers are left proud but secretly bitter about their reduced sellable crop.
Coming up on a ridge, I take the final step up it and hold my own against the sudden bitter breeze. Moving my hand away from my face, I spot what seems to be a tavern of some kind filled to the brim with wagons and vehicles. Glancing at the small purse I have on my person, I grumble as I begin the journey. Hopefully, I can pay someone to take me to where I need to be.
If the gods won't have it then none of these lower-bred people will even know what a senator looks like.