“Report.” Rafael had composed himself once again. Compared to Daito, the two were complete opposites in nature and behavior. His back absurdly straight as he stood at attention just ahead of the wall of men composing the conscript army. If it could be called an army at all, roughly a thousand freeholders in various states of dress.
“Vidarr is coming to assist the republic. I don't know how, but I figured I'd leave that decision up to him.” Tyr replied with a soft shrug.
“Primus Alexandros?”
“Don't know, and neither does anyone else, but he's here somewhere and he's still alive – so that's something.” Far away from them, Tyr hoped. Something about that primus made him so insanely uncomfortable, and he'd never properly gotten over their first meeting. “My recommendation is to focus on cleansing this city of the threat.”
“Understood.” Rafael's eyes were full of respect, with Tyr understanding why he'd been standing at attention in the first place. Some people took the office of primus far too seriously, despite the fact that most living primus' didn't ask for it. The allure of pomp and circumstance tended to fade over the centuries. Grew boring. Like Jartor, they were all more comfortable with straight answers, making good use of their time and attentions as best they could. Tyr was no different, though he was far younger. He'd seen his father grit his teeth and remain patient through all of the 'your graces' and 'great primus'' – but Tyr could not do the same. He wasn't nearly so patient. “I will take my men and sweep through the city at once.”
“Lighten up a bit.” Daito sighed. “Seriously? First you're shouting at this kid and now you're a second away from bending the knee and licking his boots.”
Both of them ignored Daito, but Rafael's vein was back. Tyr was unawakened, just a whelp, but all primus' started out that way. He was beyond certain now more than ever that Alexandros had worked in concert to bring this lad to the republic. With the convenient excuse of a banishment and stripping of titles. Tyr had come, and coincidentally, the eastern border was made safe after the one and only astral gate on this side of the continent was stopped clean with no breakage. Conveniently, the border facing Haran. There was no coincidence, only fact. Rafael believed that this was some plot of theirs.
“I'd like you to find a man name Bertrand, and another named Gerald. Both of them work in the archives.” Tyr had already passed by the forges on his way here, finding them locked shut and calling out to the men within. All safe. He had no further friends in the city.
“Understood.” Rafael repeated.
“Do fifteen jumping jacks.” Tyr said.
“Primus...” Rafael warned. He was respectful, but there were limits. Tyr was not a true primus yet, just the heir, whatever he believed.
“Please don't call me that.” Tyr frowned. If his ears could taste, they would have puckered and soured at the speaking of that one in particular. “You are my superior in all respects. I will obey you within reason, in respect to your experience. I only offer recommendations, not commands. You need not obey them.”
Rafael nodded in assurance. “I accept. I will cleanse the city, you will guard the astral gate?”
“Not exactly.” Tyr replied. “It's closed. I can't enter it, I've already tried. We only need to turn back on the power and contact Gerald. Could be five years before that thing opens, or two days. My moneys on the latter, to be honest. Nothing's ever easy around here.”
–
“Damn, you're old. Look at you, all grown up and hairy about the face.” A rough and calloused hand took Tyr's shoulders from behind. He was eating with the others, with some faceless adventurers joining them. The city was relatively clear, but they still had no idea who was behind the attack other than 'unknown' church radicals. “Our little man...” The voice cooed. Tyr did not attempt to pry the hands free, he was well aware who they belonged to. “Lost your vir--”
Tyr bucked his head, taking the man in the gut and sending him back sprawling and wheezing. Other voices behind him chuckled. “Mikhail.” Tyr said, not turning from his meal. The others looked ready to start a brawl with the gang of thugs that would harass one of their 'brethren', but Tyr was quick to correct the misunderstanding. Odd how strangers can remain so, but come to your aid just by association, all through a good killing. Fortunately, nobody seemed at all concerned about his 'psychotic break' from before, the exceptionally vague excuse of 'magic' was so convenient. “They are my brothers.”
“Brothers?” Xavier chewed slowly on a hearty spoonful of venison stew. With the power returning after days being offline, that meant the ranges had too. All of them were fairly tired of eating stale biscuits and dried meat. If they wanted anything hot, they needed to leave the city, something about interference – but nobody was allowed to leave until they were all quarantined for lycanthropy. “Like... Biologically?”
“Of course not...” Tyr replied in exasperation.
Tyr turned, before him stood Mikhail, Tiber, Samson, Fennic, and even Ajax. With the rest of his beastkin milling about in the distance. Part of the relief force conscripted from the city of Leygein. Even foreigners, apparently, didn't get to dodge a draft. Though Tyr was pretty sure they'd volunteered for it in any case, they liked to fight.
“Were you ever going to come back?” Fennic asked. “Tiber's been fishing and they dragged him right off his boat telling him to gather the boys and send them west. Mikhail and me been hunting, good contracts around here. Easy, too. Well... Not really. Almost got nipped a few times but still in one piece.”
“I was going to come back.” Tyr assured him. “As you can see, things here have been... Wait...”
Either there was something terribly wrong with the continuity in this story, or the man had just spoken actual words rather than grunting. The last time he'd seen Fennic, the man was still tongueless and mute. Communicating by half understood hand signals and whistles. It felt bizarre to talk to him now, and Tyr found his voice a very pleasant one.
“You can speak...”
“'Course I can.” Fennic chuckled. “Bought myself a new tongue, savvy? You wouldn't believe what they have for sale here in Lyran. It's wild. You're okay though? You look skinny. Been eating right? Where's the ole pup?”
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Tyr's face was downcast, in all honest he'd barely thought of them, any excuse of him being 'busy' felt pale and shameful. “I'm really sorry, Fennic. I promise that I never forgot my oath to you, I just didn't--”
“Don't fret, lad. All's well that ends well. Honestly, I miss the excuse of not having to talk to folks, but... New teeth too, see?” Fennic grinned, toothy to display the set of pearly whites that replaced his previously snaggle toothed and half-missing set. He was an older man with wrinkled skin and thinning hair, the years having gone hard on him. Scrawny and tanned like leather. But he had a good, and incredibly pure heart. More knightly than any such person Tyr had ever met, and as common as they came to set it all in contrast. “So...?”
“Nice uh... Nice teeth, man.” Tyr coughed.
“Question was more along the lines of how you've been and all that, but thanks.” Fennic grinned again, seemingly very interested in showing those things off to anyone who would look. Frankly, it looked a bit... Off. Too white, an artificial smile but the lips around it were as mirthful as anything.
“I've been fine.” Tyr replied. “Good, actually. I feel a lot better. I've made some new friends, learned a few things. Okami is fine as well, and--” Before he could finish, Tyr was dragged bodily by an emotional Tiber who gripped him uncomfortably in a tight embrace. Followed by the others. Mikhail chuckled and patted him on the pack, while Samson swooped in to take all four of the men in a crushing bear hug. More affection than Tyr had expected, or was even remotely ready for.
“I'm glad you're safe.” Tiber said. His face was patterned with stubble and as wrinkled with age as ever, but he had a vigor about him now that Tyr hadn't seen in nearly a decade. Appearing very much like the old uncle he remembered from his childhood, revitalized by his time at rest perhaps. “I've followed word of your travels. You've done your mother proud, boy.”
“This is very out of character.” Tyr replied awkwardly, barely able to breathe. Since when had these men been 'huggers'?
“Tyr?” Jura asked, standing up. Two of these men were all Harani, she could tell that much. But only two were adventurers. Two tall, strong, but average men with the build of swordsmen. A gaunt scarecrow of a rogue that hunched slightly at the back. And last, but not least, a hulking beast of a man large even by orcish standards. With well muscles arms and a wild man of knotted locks hanging from his head in the same way that orc warriors wore their own, she'd never seen a black skinned human before either. “Who are these people?”
“Family.” Tiber answered. “Think of us as his uncles, I'd suppose. He's still too green to call us brothers. My lady, who might you be?” Tiber then bowed respectfully, followed by the others. It was clear the 'prince' had some kind of relationship with her. Ajax, as ever, remained in the rear. All his eyes could focus on was Girshan. Both of them disappearing into the crowd to parts unknown. Some confrontation, Tyr figured.
“I am Jura of the Laughing Moon tribe.” She muttered nervously, unsure of what to make of their bizarre show of respect. Orcs did not bow to one another, that was a human custom, and humans certainly didn't bow to orcs in the republic. “Please don't do that.”
“She's a friend.” Tyr frowned at them. It was clear that they were only doing as much to embarrass him in some way. At least in the case of Tiber and Mikhail, the old 'uncles' that they were. Samson was just respectful and quick to imitate foreign behaviors. A dupe in their plan to humiliate him, but he didn't mind in any case. Better to be safe than sorry.
“A friend?” Jura huffed in offense. “I will be his wife and I will--”
“Please stop.” He cut her off. She seated herself without another word, still eyeing the new arrivals warily along with all the others. Benny, instead, rose from the table and took Tiber into his own crushing hug.
“Uncle!” Benny laughed.
“Do we...” Tiber paused, the strength of the kijin's arms was something worth noting. Crushing the wind right out of his lungs, easily capable of folding him like a chair should he have the inclination. “Have we met?”
“Of course not, but I've always wanted an uncle!” Benny exclaimed.
“Ah...”
–
“It's time to leave this place.” Tiber said. They'd separated from the others who seemed to orbit around Tyr and spoke privately. Well, privately if the attendance of Samson was to be ignored, and the man rarely ever spoke in any case. “This kingdom is in a sorry state. All over is panic, famine, and desperation.”
“That's exactly why I'm going to stay.” Tyr frowned. “You can leave, and I'll meet up with you – I'll swear it in blood. But I've business to be about.”
“What business?”
“I don't know.” Tyr shrugged impotently. Around these men, he could be his truest self, even if it was the new version he'd concocted from the scraps of his experience. “But I'll defend that astral gate, something is calling out to me. It can't be allowed to remain open for much longer.” Something was calling out to him, and not in the instinctual, proverbial way. He could literally hear it, like a woman singing underwater, the closer he got the louder it became and it was a sound only for him. It had to mean something.
“I am happy to stay.” Samson rumbled. “This place is not so bad.”
“Yes.” Tiber nodded tiredly. “We shall stay.”
“I wish you wouldn't.” Tyr said, eliciting a disapproving look from Tiber.
“We, Samson and I, are still your guard whether you like it or not. The others can do as they please, but I will not surrender my oath. You've been allowed too much leave to run amok already. If not for the circumstances, I'd have dragged you back to the academy by your ear some time ago.”
“I've had a lot of time to think, Tiber. To think about who I am and what I want out of my current lot. You know, my only talent seems to be in maiming and killing. That's all I really feel at home with and I hate it. But I love you, both of you. As you said, like family. Truly – I have learned this emotion and I am trying to accept it. But if you stay, you will die.” Tyr's voice was grim and certain. Tiber was talented. A knight who Tyr had thought stood at the peak of the world, at one point. But that simply wasn't the case. They were all so weak and easily broken. He had seen how large a world it truly was. Tiber was little more than a steel rank adventurer in combat power. If he wanted to, Tyr could crush him now with little difficulty, he was sure of it.
“Mmm...” Tiber nodded. “I know your thoughts. What can this old dog do in the face of all these new tricks? But I've been around the block, boy. I've seen the world, and so many of the powers that reside within it. You've not seen the best of me, and I made a promise to her that I won't break. You won't be so easily rid of me.”
“Signe?” Tyr asked solemnly. Tiber nodded. Everything was for Signe, the only woman he had ever truly loved, and not in the wholly romantic sense. In his opinion, nobody could shine brighter than her, not even a primus. He'd made her a promise, and he'd keep it at all costs, some said Tyr looked just like his father – but he saw more of his mother in that boy than anyone else. “Then we'd better get ready.” Tyr said, nodding in acceptance of Tiber's resolve.
“Ready for what?” Samson asked.
“A fight.” Tyr replied, looking back and through the portal. “A big one. The last one, maybe.”