Love... That's not possible.
Tyr didn't take Daito's claim very seriously, but he followed every task the man gave him. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted for something to do. Idle hands, and all, like always. They were patrolling the outer reaches again, even further this time. Daito insisted on accompanying him on all of his missions until his 'probationary period' was through. This made sense, considering most guild members initially required a sponsor, and it gave them time alone to talk and share ideas. The man was a master, but far more complex than Varinn had appeared to be, with idiosyncrasies and all sorts of vices. “Why do you suck on these things, anyway?” Tyr asked this, a bit hypocritical as they were both taking drags from the chalky sticks now. His dependence had faded, but it felt and tasted good good. He was sure that he could stop at any time... He just didn't have an addictive personality, didn't think he did at least.
“I'm an addict.” Daito chuckled. “What else? Not everyone can just up and decide to cold turkey.”
Tyr scrunched his eyebrows. Daito wasn't the wise old sage that Varinn had become, but he seemed so put together. So steady and calm, more fickle and impulsive, certainly more coarse in terms of personality... “A drug addict? You?”
Daito nodded. “I had a lot of trouble reconciling my identity. Who I was, or what I was. Something I am sure you can relate to.” Tyr inclined his head in agreement, something he was still wrestling with but slowly getting better at processing, allowing the man to continue. “What do you see, when you look at me?”
“Er...” Tyr tilted his head in the way he always did. Alex had compared him to her hounds in the midst of being offered a treat. Daito, on the other hand, thought it looked oddly like a predator getting a better point of view on its prey. “A man... I guess? My captain, my captain, and all that?”
Laughing, Daito rested his hands on his legs. They were sitting now, sharing a breakfast beneath the morning sun. His laugh, as his voice always did, carried a hint of the bitter and sardonic. “Well... 'A man' is certainly an identifier. I was born a woman. In my clan, women are seen as... Hmm, how to say it? Inferior? Born to servitude? There had never been a woman primus, as you call them, and this made way for a standard of what I believe to be an injustice in society. It irked me that I was stuck at home while my fathers and brothers fought for the clan – and I began to disassociate.”
“Now, I am a man, I guess – well... I always was one, truthfully, it's not something you just decide on, but I was forced to ask myself 'why'. They always make us do that, the 'whys' of everything, and when I was younger that threw me into a crisis. Why does there need to be a why? It's it good enough to be what you are? Not to them, it wasn't. My family, except for my mother, was not accepting whatsoever, which didn't help. I ran away, fell in with a bad crowd, did some things. Does this trouble you?” Daito carefully observed Tyr's reaction to the words, expecting scorn or even disgust. Maybe lust. Some felt that, bizarrely fetishizing the 'strange' from their perspective. As for Tyr, he didn't react much at all.
All he did was shrug lazily. “You can be whatever you want to be, or whatever you are. Haran might not be the most just of nations, but we take personal liberties very seriously.” It was a ridiculous notion to consider women subservient. Tyr thought of his mother, Alex, Sigi... Hells, even Astrid. If he'd ever tried to push such an agenda on them, to consider them inferiors? The thought of what they'd do to him made him shudder.
Women in many nations were considered equal, though there were things men considered them not so good for. Like war. As far as other vocations went, women were superior in many immeasurable ways. The only rule was that all primus' were men, but other than that... “The commander of our first legion is a woman, and she is a truly terrifying warrior. Or so I hear. I have not had the pleasure of meeting her personally. If she were to tell me that she was a man... I doubt I'd question her. People should at least by given the right to choose.”
Daito laughed again. “You're really missing the point, but your apathy to it is fine enough. It's about identity. My body was cast in the image I have of myself, making me as man as any other. Ki made it so, and I'm sure magic could've done the same. I've learned to accept who and what I was, something in between – not tied to one gender or another, at least the construct as it is understood. Then, I wrought what changes were capable of me.”
“So what do I call you...?” Tyr asked.
“By pronouns?” Daito took another drag and hummed to himself. “I don't care. I'm a man, call me he. Call me she, I won't chide you for it. If it was ever a problem I'd only ask that you remain receptive to my response.”
“I see... And this is why you became addicted to...? Drugs? Dreamleaf?”
“It was bloodroot, but yes. I fell in with a rough crowd, but they accepted me for who I was. Loved me in their way, for a time. Protected me from the few that tried to violate the body I felt so uncomfortable in, it wasn't all bad. My father and brothers were not so accepting. My father himself told me quite honestly that he found me vile in my insistence to continue on 'as men did'. I couldn't handle it, so I sought an escape. I regret it, of course, I was formative and immature. But it made me who I am, and taught me many lessons about life.”
“And you accept that?” Tyr asked.
Daito nodded. “Always. I only wish I'd realized my worth sooner. Eventually, through great effort, I made the others see. Now they realize it too.”
“Me too.” Tyr replied. “You helped me start walking the path to find mine, at least. I feel a great deal of gratitude for that. I'll never forget it. I'm still a dude, though.”
“You're an ass is what you are, you're lucky I'm so tolerant. The old me would've not been so accepting of that joke.”
“Yeah?” Tyr snorted. “The old you would've been six feet below the ground if you push your luck.”
Daito chuckled. This kid thought he was so tough, unbreakable perhaps, but people did when they were his age. He hoisted himself, instrument in hand. “I think you're ready to go off on your own, now. For now. I expect you back and ready for training in ten days time. Do as you please until then, but do not return.”
“W-what...? I'm not ready!” Tyr protested, feeling an odd sense of attachment to the man.
“You are.” Daito spoke softly. “A souls journey is a sole journey. People come and go, but the self is forever. One thing you still do not understand.”
Men were social animals, but there was a great strength that could only come from independence. Co-dependence had made the men of the current era weak, unable to face their own problems without crying out for help. Tyr was not co-dependent, but he wasn't emotionally mature enough to 'be his own man' just yet. Daito left the list of duties to attend to in his hands before departing, not offering much in the way of aid. Tyr looked on as the captain strummed furiously at his shamisen, disappearing down the road at a speed many times greater than a steed. Leaving him alone in the highlands for the first time. This far out, Daito explained, there would be no paladins. It didn't take long for Tyr to find out why.
This land was dangerous. Far beyond the hazards in the twin empires. Even the successor states seemed safe in comparison. It was the blending of mana and spira in this place that saw to that. Strong enough to make monsters of common pests, and the local villagers... There were people who lived out here, for some reason. But they, in their own way, were monsters too. Even the old man manning the inn Tyr stopped at was a hardened warrior with scars about his arms and a fearsome signature in the spira. Something only a lifetime of constant struggle could forge into a man.
Tyr wondered at how many people, or things, the barkeep would've had to kill in order to get so strong. Maybe they were simply built differently, born and shaped under such dense ambient energy. The further he went away from the city, the stronger it got. And the clearer his mind became. Something about the wilds... He'd first noticed it around Riverwood, but it was so strong here that he couldn't miss it. It beat in his breast and could be felt with each breath.
He didn't stop for a drink. It was too early for that, and Tyr found himself disturbed by their hard glances. A humble place, this Lasjahl, but well protected. Stone walls surrounded it in a ring, with watchmen everywhere even at so early an hour. Most of the buildings were made of stone, and well crafted. Peat roofs covered in moss. Most were circular buildings of a single floor, with smooth archways and heavy circular doors. From afar, it seemed like a ramshackle collection of small hills, but the craftsmanship was impressive. Like Leygein, this place was well coated in runes and arrays testifying to the extensive measures taken to see to its protection. Tyr proceeded to the dwelling they had been called to, knocking softly on the door, not entirely sure how he was supposed to axe.
“Are you from the guild?” A petite, buxom woman cracked the door just enough for Tyr to get a good look at her startlingly orange eyes. Like the inner meat of the very same fruit, she had such a unique appearance – even compared to the diverse population of the republic. Perhaps some telurian blood was in her, but other than the eyes – she seemed perfectly human. Tyr nodded curtly before being ushered into the living quarters toward the rear of the building. The house was bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. Spatial magic, the weak and more stable kind, but still impressive for what he'd consider a 'commoner'. Either that or the way it was built into the ground gave off the illusion, he wasn't sure, unused to the off shape.. “I need to report a theft.”
“A... Theft?” Tyr replied, furrowing his brow and frowning. “With all due respect, my lady, we aren't... Er... What is the equivalent of an arbiter or constable in the republic?”
“We have constables...” She replied, clearly in great distress. “And lawmen, but they won't listen to me. You're my only hope!”
“Where's your husband?”
“I'm too young to be married. My father is hunting, and my mother is tending to the goats.” Her eyes were downcast, nervously shuffling her feet.
Tyr sighed, crossing his arms, a healthy dose of skepticism. He'd visited a few of these villages, mostly just clan holdings, but the way he understood it is that most of them policed themselves. People who committed crimes would often be thrown to the wolves, and quite literally so. Thrown to actual wolves, while the village watched... “Okay. Should I wait for them to return, or...?”
“Of course not. I am of an age where I can speak to a man and court one if I'd like. In fact, I was betrothed, but that bastard Tyler was sleeping around with that wastrel Patricia. My parents ignored it in order to field more offers, but as a citizen just as much as they I deserve some justice!” She protested, as if she had something to prove.
“...I can see why you are so frustrated.” Tyr replied. Adultery without consent was a grave crime in Haran, from both sides of a bonding, so he supposed he could understand where she was coming from. A betrothal was considered sacred, even among the commons it was an oath. Naturally, nobles could get away with some infidelity, but it wasn't always the case. The republic was far more liberal in comparison, but it stood to reason that some of these country folks would be more... Conservative, perhaps. “I'll help however I can, in that case. But you said this was a theft, right? What was stolen?”
“My virginity.” She replied matter-of-factly, huffing with her head held high.
Tyr's face became stony, freezing into an uncomfortable position. “...Your virginity.” It wasn't a question, he was flatly repeating what she'd said.
“Yes.”
“So...” Tyr cleared his throat, breathing deep to avoid the fury that threatened to leap back into him after so much time trying to cool his temper and better himself for it. “You were raped?”
“Of course not!” She protested angrily. “Naturally, I consented. Raped? I wish a man would! I'm not some damsel, and I know where to kick! My father would kill him, if he got to em before I did, believe that easterling!”
“...Your virginity.”
“I want you to get it back for me. My chastity.”
“...You want your virginity back.”
“Yes! I have less value of a match without it! If it can be taken away, it can be given back, correct?”
“I...” Tyr squinted, trying his best not to misspeak. Clearly, this bumpkin was out of her mind in the realest sense, but being lied to and manipulated couldn't have felt good. “I don't think that's how it works... Uh... Miss?” He didn't know her name, hence the bizarre choice of verbiage. “Would you like me to regenerate your uh... There's that um...”
“I know what a hymen is! I want my virginity back!”
“...Your virginity.”
“Listen... Uh... Bub!” She hissed, mocking him sarcastically, not knowing his name either. He wasn't one of the few regulars in the region, typically they knew all the adventurers by name and those they didn't were in the registry. “I paid a whole five irons to send a missive to your guild, and you'll fix this...! Or... Or...”
“Or, what? You'll report me?” Tyr clucked his tongue, the woman was raising her voice and becoming hysterical and it was all he could do not to clamp his hand around her mouth. “Listen lady. I don't give two shits about the guild, or you. Believe me. Do you think I need their--... Okay, alright.” He calmed himself, breathing deeply and making a genuine effort to empathize. There was a significance in her words, she just wasn't articulate it the best way. “A man made you a promise, bedded you, and refused to follow through on his oath?”
She nodded eagerly, that 'can I speak to your manager' attitude fleeing her demeanor immediately. “Yes!”
“This promise was held under confidence, in full view our your head of household?”
“Yes!”
“Tyler is his name?”
“Yes!” She repeated.
“Alright. I'll... Uh... Get your virginity back, I think... Wait right here.”
All land owning houses in the republic could vote. Men, women, hells – children of any age so long as they possessed a deed to land. In sending a missive – she clearly had her fathers permission. Thus, Tyr was certain that it was the father who had sent it rather than the daughter. He just happened to arrive at an inopportune time. Therefore, he doubted the goal was to 'return his daughters virginity'. It was probably some kind of enforcement or arbitration job. Ensuring, by force if necessary, that something was done. To do whatever justice the constables refused to.
This Tyler had promised dowry exchange, marriage, and all of the trappings that came with 'earning' her as a wife. And then, he had bedded the woman early and gallivanted off like the coward he was to the bed of another. The Jarl provided guild services to the outer villages in a bid to secure their vote, ensuring that some 3rd party oversight protected the people. Tyr didn't care about that, but he hated liars and especially oath breakers, since the day he was born it had been drilled in to him to never make an official agreement he didn't plan to keep. He'd thought the woman mad, but as it turns out – she was just a bit ignorant. This Tyler, the piece of shit that he was, had whatever came to him – coming. In this case, it was Tyr – and if he was allowed an ounce of vanity he'd figure that there were few worse fates that that.
Of course, his way was not the way of the republic. In Haran, a renege of betrothal without prior notice was unacceptable. Gideon, Alex's father and arbiters like him – were given full reign to level a death sentence on a man who participated in betrothal fraud. That wasn't to say fornication was illegal, it happened all the time. Marriages were not so dissimilar to business arrangements, two or more families bound together to create stronger ties. Sometimes it offered merit in terms of more favorable tax rates, shared resources be they military or mercantile. Just for the money, or love, some husbands and wives opted to never have children, not bedding one another as per their agreement. Some would be a network of anywhere from three to five houses, all bonded together for whatever was in it for them.
In any case... The great complexities of imperial marital law aside...
Harani did not play so loose with their oaths, and an official betrothal was taken very seriously unless something was explicitly added to the negotiations – or they mutually decided to end it. It wasn't always like this, but the law could not account for every happenstance. That's why the courts and arbiters existed, to interpret the law and dole out punished.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
In the republic... Maybe you'd get a nice beating from a law man, but typically it was little more than financial remuneration. But Tyr wasn't a lawkeeper...
After no more than thirty minutes of asking around, it was well accepted and understood that Tyler had officially betrothed himself to this young woman – Eunice. Therefore, he had breached the law – the republic law as well. Tyr wondered why the lawmen in the region had been so deaf to their calls for justice, but it didn't matter. He would be justice, and he found this Tyler gallivanting with a third woman at the local inn before the noon sun had rested in the sky. For such a small population they sure seemed to have a lot of eligible women around...
Dragging him by the hem of his shirt was an easy thing. He was tall. Taller than Tyr, actually, an incredible feat for a normal human – but everyone in the republic seemed tall. Outside of the city, specifically. Courtesy of the energies, no doubt. Plenty hit a similar mark to Harani men, who were considered larger than average among human kingdoms, but this man in particular was at least 6'6''. Lanky though, built like a scarecrow with awkwardly long legs and a completely flat ass.
“Do you know who I am!?” He shrieked indignantly. “I'm Tyler Restel, son of Percy Restel! Ever heard of him, guild man? We're the--” Tyr slapped him across the jaw with enough force to make the mans head snap backwards with an audible click. People were gathered around, eyeing the spectacle with a mix of fear and that trademark nosiness of a close knit community. “You are you doing this...” The man groaned. “She's just a woman... C'mon, man! We've got to stick together, you and I!”
Tyr slapped him again, more gently this time to ensure his chicken neck didn't snap and kill him early. “We are not alike. I take my oaths seriously. Whereas you...” He grunted, heaving the boy up and driving a nickle plated stake clean through his hand in a single smooth motion. A satisfying sound, the thumping and splitting of wood as it sank into the surface of the post. Pretty convenient, a post just being there in the open space before the gate. Based on the multi-colored ribbons hanging from it, it must've been some kind of decorative object.
“Just one hand. If I find out you did it again, I'll come for more... Necessary parts. Am I understood?” Tyler screamed and howled against the agony, begging and pleading with snot in his nose as the villagers stared on with horrified eyes. Only the old innkeeper seemed to be taking any real joy in it at this point, nodding in respect to the first man who seemed intent to make right, even if it was a little more violent than the usual law man. In any event, those young men and women seemed to get more flippant as the years went on, about time they got taught a lesson. “Understood?” Tyr repeated grimly, taking the boy by the throat and dragging him up to a position where their eyes could meet.
“I understand!” He groaned, as pale as a sheet and blood spraying from his pulverized hand. Tyr felt sick. Not because he was torturing the boy, but because it was just a single nail, what was the big deal? “P-please...” He was blubbering now, barely audible. “I understand, please let me go. I swear, I won't! I'll m-marry her t-tomorrow!”
Tyr bent until only Tyler could hear him. “Do you think people wanted this chapter?”
“...W-what?”
“What? You think people want to read this shit? Is this a linear plot, or will I forever to be constantly stuck in an episodic loop? Or worth, a whole damn anthology!”
“I... I don't u-understand what you're sayi--” Tyr shook his head in disgust. Neither did he, frankly, the words kind of just came out sometimes. He slapped Tyler hard enough to knock him unconscious. Maybe too hard, letting the fates decide whether the concussed young man deserved to live or not. Still leaving him nailed to the beam before the gate, he turned to the crowd that had followed him. The young woman stared at him in what can only be described as a look of pure reverence. Her face was red, breath hot, nearly drooling. Tyr stared back at her for a second, some of the other women were making those same gazes, blushing madly and panting...
“Contract... Completed?” He asked to nobody and everybody, unsure what he was supposed to do to begin with. Thankfully, she nodded energetically, edging closer to him with stuttered footsteps. Enough for him, so it was time to make like a tree and uh... Split? Wait... Was that how the saying went? Micah said it all the time. Tyr missed the boy. Even though they were the same age, he couldn't help but look at him as somewhat of a younger sibling. Regardless, it was time to leave, and fast. Some of the crowd weren't so happy with the way he'd dealt with Tyler, or... Well, he couldn't quite tell what all those women were doing, but they looked... Angry? Without preamble, he summoned just enough fire to back them off before they became a full blown mob. Of course, the arrival of a wolf two hands taller at the shoulder of their largest workhorse helped expedite things.
“Could've used yo--... Nah. Thanks for the backup, partner. Appreciate you.”
“Of course.” Okami replied in a baritone growl. “I will always be there for you. For we are soul bound kin, you and I.”
“I guess so...” Tyr replied tiredly, hopping up on the wolfs back and departing as fast as those four limbs could carry him. It took a minute for him to consider why he'd felt so strange. Like he was missing something... “Wait! You're talking... You can talk... Well that's a thing. Not just a giant wolf, but a giant talking with with a James Earle Jones voice.”
“I do not know who that is.”
“Neither do I, partner. But uh... You can talk, go on? I guess... What the fuck is happening right now...”
“Of course I can. And you seem to be in rare form today, my brother.” Okami looked back at him, as if assessing whether his skull was still intact. Still very much in the form of a horse sized wolf with snow white fur. Hearing him speak directly to Tyr had been a jolt. They had communicated, roughly, via instinct or vague ideas and images – and while it had been good enough, it hadn't been so direct a communication. “I've just now managed to awaken. According to the pack tending to these lands, it took longer than normal. But to say 'talking' would be incorrect. I am merely using air magic to vibrate the space around me to project my words in your language. That being the language known as common, that all the two legs know. Easier that way. Not our language, of course. Ugly words, but they work, good practice for me.”
“...Why are we back at the village?” Okami had made a loop and brought Tyr right back to the gate, and everyone was still standing there... Staring...
“...You seem to have forgotten to received your reward. And only the requester of the contract can ensure it is remarked as finished.”
“Wow, you sure know a lot about guild law.”
“It was a dry read but I don't wish to be chased about by the wide men with the sticks like last time.”
“Ah... Good thinking.” For some reason, dwarves didn't seem to like magical beasts too much. They weren't abusive, of course, but Okami had been chased out of many an establishment because of it.
“Oi!” They turned their heads to a filthy faced youngster pushing himself through the crowd of onlookers, most of which had gone silent at the revelation that the wolf could speak. Tyr could well understand that. “Don't nobody care about you or your shaggy dog. Ain't you got more work to do? Show up here, nail ole Tyler up like a string of garlic and then off on your way?”
“Well...” Tyr and Okami tilted their heads in sync, drawing a few nervous glances from the villagers. So perfect was their synchronized movement that it almost appeared like some kind of circus act. “That's what I came here to do, roughly. I'll admit – I probably took some liberties with how I handled the boy – but you should be able to heal that up just fine. It's about the message, he will experience no permanent injury.” Of course, this was all an assumption. Magic was incredible common for the little things in the republic, but Tyr had no idea whether or not they even had a local healer. They should, given the two to three hundred villagers, but...
“You adventurers get worse and worse every year. If my pa was here, he'd whip you silly, you foreign trash!” The boy was impressively bold, clearly unafraid of either Tyr or the wolf. Granted, neither would hurt him even in the most extreme circumstances, given his age. He could be anywhere from 8 to 12 years old, barely come to Tyr's navel in terms of height. “Look at me like I'm some bumpkin? Willy!” He back shouted into the crowd. “Get me my spankin' stick!”
“I have no idea what you mean, kid. Gods honest. Well, I don't believe much in reverence to the gods, but... Uh... I swear it... On my partner.” Tyr grinned, slapping Okami on his flank and earning a very deep and lascivious groan of pleasure once he began stroking the fur. “Having a voice is nice, brother, but please... It's fucking weird, man.”
“But it feels so good...” Okami groaned.
The boy stared at them angrily, taking a stick in hand brought to him by another boy and whacking Tyr about the legs rapidly until he became tired from all the effort, kneeling down and panting. Naturally, the one time prince of Haran remained wholly unconcerned. The average human would have trouble injuring him, and this was just a boy. Because he was a boy, Tyr was willing to compromise and show a bit more patience that he would with anybody else.
“Your name?”
“Farron!” The youngling stated proudly, drawing up into a heroic pose with his clenched fists resting on his hips. Still had the stick, too, tucked into his belt like some a knight. All in the midst of Tyler begging for assistance, nobody seemed interested in giving it to him though. “Named after the strongest primus, because I'm the toughest boy in town! Yee yee, and you can put that on a cracker!”
Missing an 'e', probably, pronounced a little differently, but did they really name their son after my... Hmm... I guess it's not mine anymore. Fair-in versus Fair-on. Although there is some debate that the appropriate pronunciation... Alright... Focus.
Children could not be wrong in their nature. Men made monsters, Tyr didn't think they were born that way – and this child had a bit of justice in him.. “I think Octavian would be the toughest.” Tyr replied with shifty eyes. “So if you want to claim the name of House Faeron, it's about being strong and patient. Steel within, steel without – but in terms of durability specifically, I'd give the win to the primus of Varia. Call yourself the strongest kid in town, or however you'd like, but it's important to know who our primus' are, and what they stand for.”
“Really?” Farron looked up at Tyr with skepticism plain in his eyes. “And what do you know of such things? More than my pa? I doubt that, mister.”
“I'm sure he knew more than me.” Tyr replied with a soft smile on his lips, bending at the knees to level with the young boy. He was a dirty kid, with dirt caked fingernails and the remains of his morning meal still plain on his face, but there was something about him. A complexity children didn't normally have. Tyr could... Hear? Smell? Feel emotions. One way or another, if one didn't possess the ability to shroud them properly – he could make a very educated guess beyond what was plainly visible. This child had a helpless bitterness in him, stubbornness and a lot of pride. The weak and unreachable standard of masculinity that young boys would often have. “Where is your father? Is he around here somewhere?”
Tyr ignored the crowd, some were content just to watch. Others, notably the elders in the village were smiling softly at his abrupt change in character. First, a violent thug, now... Almost brotherly toward the orphan.
“Dead.” Farron replied coolly. He tried to, at least, but the crack in his voice said he was anything but calm. “Just like ma. Died in the last break. It's your fault, too, and I won't forget it when I'm big and tall like you are.”
“My fault?” Tyr asked. The boy wasn't willing to answer immediately, so he looked toward the old barkeep that had seemed the most understanding of his rather brutal method of dealing with Tyler. Perhaps these people were soft, or maybe they were just different. In Haran, he might've been publicly gelded, but a lot of the villagers still looked a bit ghastly. All he did was half-crucify the boy, it could have been far worse. But understanding came hard to Tyr, and he was working on that. “What is he talking about?”
“Pardon, sir. Youth ain't like they used to be. No respect in 'em.” The old man continued to stare down in disdain at Farron, clucking his tongue in annoyance. “During the break, the situation southwest of here got a little out of control and a handful of monsters made their way toward the village. The boys father went out with the men to stop them, and paid for it with his life. Took 'em down, nonetheless, kept us safe. Kid lost his mother shortly thereafter to some malady or another, hard to say. Healer said its all genetic, but I'm no bookish sort. He, meanin' the kid, blamed adventurers for the loss of his parents.”
“Because they didn't arrive in time to deal with the monsters as they should have?”
“More or less. Big country, hard to cover so much land, adults would know that but the children...”
Tyr nodded calmly. Relating to others was hard, but in a situation like this it was easy to understand how the boy felt. Charging into an army seemed like the easiest thing in the world to him, compared to facing what had happened to him, right before his eyes. “I lost my mother, too. My father, I think, but I can't be sure just yet.”
“To the monsters?” Farron asked innocently, tears welling up in his eyes as he was forced to relive whatever painful memory had turned him into the town youngest thug.
“Yes.” Tyr replied, and it wasn't a lie. At least in the case of his mother. Whoever his father was, whether it be Jartor or not – he had no idea. Couldn't know, or perhaps didn't want to. He was free now, and that was a salve on his soul, he only needed more time to feel it. No more tragedies, and there wouldn't be if he stayed on his own. “You and me are the same, kid. Both of us went through fire and came out stronger. Because of our names, and we'll go on to do great things. Maybe. Hells, I don't know. In Haran we have a saying that too much of a good thing makes a man weak. Loss makes us strong. Steel loses its impurity, men lose their weaknesses. I don't know if that is true, but maybe it is. Do you think you could be strong for me? I will pray for your parents, I swear it, and I know they are watching you, it's good to act in a way that would make them proud.”
Farron nodded slowly, resisting the shaking of his bottom lip. Once his persona was seen through, related to, and his problems addressed – he was just a little boy. To Tyr, that was a good sign. There was good in the world, a rare kind of good, and it was most often found in younglings like this. A strength to keep running, playing, and laughing after terrible things had been done to them by a world that could truly care less.
“What did you mean, when you said I have more work to do?” Tyr asked candidly, turning his head to address the more knowledgeable adults. “This is, technically, my first day. I have a supervisor and all that, but he ran off into the hills and left me out here. Not sure what I'm supposed to do beyond visit the place, I didn't exactly get a detailed itinerary.”
“What guild?” Someone asked.
“The Hunter's.”
“...”
“That checks out. Maybe... And listen, no disrespect, please. I've a family, you see?” One of the men at the corner of his vision gestured to two small boys and a decently rotund woman with an upturned nose and a kind face. “We respect you adventurers just as much as any village. Gods honest! We'd never--”
“Listen...” Tyr spat into the dirt. He could deal with Farron's lapse in composure, but a grown man and father? Then again... He knew what he looked like, and roughly – who he was. He was quite tall, about 6'5'' with his boots on, and built well enough. Not much fat on his frame, giving his high cheekbones and sharp features a fairly predatory look. The mages mark visible on his arm probably didn't help. College mages had a particular reputation different from the typical Lyran mage.
It was plain to see that the vast majority of the village feared him a great deal, only remaining because there was strength and confidence in numbers. A thousand people might be safe throwing rocks at a dragon, whether they came to regret it or not was not their most immediate concern. Tyr didn't feel like a dragon, but just at a cursory glance he could tell that not a single one of these individuals could handle him. Not the three mages, the two higher than average spira signatures, and that wasn't to mention Okami at his side. “I... We don't hurt innocents. This is my bonded partner, Okami – by the way. Swear it on Astarte, or whatever god you people out here worship.”
“The mountain king, or earth mother, for most.” The man replied respectfully. As with everywhere. The poor tended to gravitate towards the earth or lesser water gods. Light gods were common in the villages, but not as a patron, that was far more common in large towns or cities. Farmers and the like would make the obvious choice, the gods belonging to the house of earth. A few would worship Heru, the air god – the hunter. Tyr had no idea if they benefited from it at all, but he'd felt the magic from the place beyond enter those paladins.
He knew they existed, but couldn't say with any certainly what they were capable of. Or Six, whether he was a god or not was unclear. If so, there were lots of gods, hundreds or thousands of them. Bumi, Freyja, Aran, Duma, and others were natural choices for people that relied on the land to survive.
Did I read the contract...? Tyr paused, scrunching his brow and removing it from his dimensional storage space. Of course I read the contract.
“It only said 'help the village'. I've completed the only task in the village, yes?” Tyr asked, oblivious.
Farron seemed to recover from his fugue state and trauma simply on the precept of the adventurers rampant stupidity. “It says help the village. Does that say 'one person'? Or what? Are you dumb?”
“Ah... Okay, so what do you need help with?” Tyr asked. Farron couldn't have been more than eight years old, at best, and yet he was the bravest of all the villagers. Sans the old man, but it was easy to see that he plainly didn't like the others, and unlike everyone here didn't see Tyr as a threat. The curse of growing old was growing to be bitter with all around you. And he had the only inn in the village, it wasn't like they could complain or threaten to go elsewhere.
Ignoring him pointedly, Farron leveled his 'stick' with Tyr's chest and took a more serious tone. Some mockery of what an adult 'should' sound like. “Oi, and since you've no proper badge, that means you're on probation. Tags don't cut it 'round here. Therefore, you can't charge us for your services.”
“...”