Along the various streams that sprouted from the Thuad River and wound through the acreage of the Martelle region, sat a village nestled within a valley. It was a nondescript settlement that, like many small villages across the lands of humanity, was unmolested by the politics of the lands that declared lordship above it. Here, the usurping of the High Tiarna Martelle by his clansmen fifty cycles ago was more a rumor than truth.
The people here would rather speak of the harvests and the migration of deer than anything pertaining to the world around them. The knowledge of such things was superfluous to the people of these lands. Most would never leave the environs of their village and would be born and burned only paces apart.
Everything in the village was aged from their hovels to their cookware to their clothing. It was easier to count the age of things in decades than individual cycles. In more charitable terms: it was less a matter of age and more a matter of survival. All that was seen in the village was all that had survived these many years of wear and degradation. There was no foundry, all clothes were made of sheared wool and dyes of ground roots and flowers, and the waters did not move in enough volume to allow a mill. Mercantile vessels rarely arrived, and when they did, carried only the inventory that they had failed to sell in other villages.
Only a mile downstream of this village camped a force that outnumbered the entire population of these isolated people. The armored natural disaster blustered into the village and requested permission on behalf of the clan name of their High Tiarna Martelle. The elders of the village agreed with little alternative. The ancient rumormongers, whose most potent recent gossip was about matchmaking or whose dog killed whose goat, now spoke of the purpose of the apocalypse that rested just out of view.
More puzzling, for the drab garbed soil tillers and shepherds that could count on one hand how many outsiders that they had spoken to, was the vibrant colored magician that traveled from Verbosc to meet the army that had yet to arrive.
The crow men whose leader’s name mirrored the ruler of the realm bathed in the lethargic waters. Grime floated off their skin and downstream to the distant forests and pastures. The final leg of their victory parade home, the enriched killers were in high spirits as they rested in the cool waters and bantered to each other. They returned with more warriors and more silver than they had left with.
Out of all of the joyous sellswords, there was one that was less than pleased with their current situation. They stood across from a tropical bird that had cast aside all of its plumage. The bird gazed upon the person with a convivial visage that one would sport when greeting an old friend. While there was no animosity between the two, the bird’s counterpart did not express any desire to be present for this reunion. Though, it would be fairer to say that the issue came from the social venue more than the colorful creature.
How did such a meeting transpire in the first place? The scrupulous boy was looking for a private place to bathe when he stumbled across some of his former comrades from when he masqueraded as an impoverished refugee. While he had ascended beyond even his own station, those that he still called friends did not enjoy the same auspices as the boy had received by the virtue of his blood.
Their meetings had been truncated as of late. Interactions with a premier face of the warband were few and far between. Therefore, the appearance of the two boys was something that the favored child of the Corvid King had found worthy of joy.
“Good day, Master Valentin,” Bassett said with none of the reverence that such a greeting would imply.
“Bassett, Darri, I see that you are both doing well,” Valentin replied with a smile.
“It is better than what we had, but still worse than we want,” Darri corrected with a neutral voice. “Maeve continues to leave us in the dust when it comes to value. Ferron’s supreme display guaranteed that I would not be able to prove myself in a meaningful way this cycle. All I have done is set up camp, guard the food wagons, and clear trees from roads. It is difficult to admit, but my opportunities are growing fewer.”
“Perhaps it would be better for you to earn a reputation in a different group,” Valentin recommended. “These mercenaries are already those with deeds to support their worth so raising your station elsewhere could be ideal.”
Bassett offered a look of concern to Valentin to silently oppose the suggestion. If Darri left, their group would only splinter further. Both boys would only be more isolated now that Maeve’s role as a druid expanded.
Darri put a hand to his chin and grinned. “That isn’t a half bad suggestion,” the older boy agreed. “Why not bathe with us, Valentin? We can catch up and share some stories. I heard that you have quite a captivating one.”
Valentin unconsciously recoiled at the suggestion. His previous bath with an audience showed that he was yet ready for such a situation. He was frustrated. What reason was there to feel uncomfortable around Darri and Bassett? They had bathed together out of necessity in Lutant and Valentin did not protest at the time. In fact, nothing negative happened a single time during those vulnerable times to even hint towards mistrust.
The pressing need was gone and now Valentin no longer wished to return to those times of discomfort. How could he explain such a thing? Bassett would understand, but what of Darri? He was of the firm opinion that Valentin’s relations to Morna was a blessing, an explanation would assuredly fail.
“Uh, well,” Valentin spluttered, unable to formulate a proper explanation. He met eyes with Bassett who offered a sympathetic, yet disappointed look.
“Valentin,” cooed a heavily accented voice. The sound drifted into his ears like wisps of smoke.
The otherworldly appearance of the witch temporarily stunned the trio with the color that fluttered off her body. Behind her was the perpetually smoldering swordsman that lived in her shadow. The antithetical personalities only served to further highlight the light and color that poured off the seer.
“Good day, Jaela,” Valentin greeted. “I heard that you had visited camp but had not had the opportunity to greet you yet. What brings you up to these backwaters when we are so close to returning to Verbosc?”
“I performed a reading while you were campaigning and I saw things that needed to be addressed immediately. I see you were about to bathe, let’s discuss it there,” Jaela asserted.
“I-but,” Valentin attempted to protest as this new offer was in no way preferable to the previous arrangement. In fact, it was significantly worse.
He offered a look towards the two boys he had been talking to but neither had the authority to step in at this point. Bassett smiled awkwardly and shrugged his shoulders, acknowledging his powerlessness in this situation. Darri simply rolled his eyes in annoyance and walked away towards the water, Bassett quickly followed behind.
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“Shall we?” Jaela asked.
A secluded part of the stream was carved out around a half mile upstream, away from the grease and grime that flowed off the bodies and equipment of the resting warriors. A grove of trees growing near the edge of water offered some cover from Ortus as well as any prying eyes that may try to steal a view.
Zunjing stood guard at the top of the drop into the water and peered upstream and downstream with a swiveling head. He did not so much as acknowledge Valentin as he and Jaela slipped past him to the edge of the water.
Unlike the heavier clothing she had sported in Lutant, the colored robes that contoured to Jaela’s body were much lighter and were easily removed. Valentin averted his eyes when the woman handed her clothing to Zunjing.
The small sounds of a body entering the water entered Valentin’s ears. An internal voice told him that if he wished to express his desire to delay the conversation, then he had to immediately. He considered running away but wasn’t sure where.
“Are you not going to enter?”
It was an inquisitive voice devoid of judgment. Valentin wished to say everything on his mind right there in the hopes that it would purge him of the disgust that welled inside him. However, he still did not wish to open his heart to this person. There was nobody that had earned the trust of such inner secrets.
“Will there not be issues with us bathing together under such secretive circumstances?” Valentin asked in response.
“I hope that your partner does not find issue with this meeting,” Jaela said with reverence in her voice towards Valentin’s romance.
Anger created a flavor of bile in Valentin’s mouth. Such conversations were growing to be truly inescapable. No matter how many times it had been brought up, the topic was still an insufferable gnawing at his sanity.
“The rumors aren’t true,” Valentin corrected in as few words as possible. “It is just that bathing together holds a certain meaning.”
“I am aware of your customs,” Jaela answered. “I believed that I was sparing you an uncomfortable outing. Is it not true that Strettians bathe with their instructors or those that they feel comfortable around? Yet you did not look relaxed at all in the presence of those boys.”
“That is the culture of those that live north,” Valentin corrected with a lie. “In the southern realms, one only bathes with their clan.”
“I apologize for being presumptive,” Jaela responded with some remorse. “I assumed your tutelage under me had made it acceptable for us to be sharing a bath. We are not close enough to be considered part of each other’s clan. Yet, that also means you are not close with those two either.”
“That’s how it would appear, yes,” Valentin admitted with loathing in his heart. “That is why I must object to this.”
“Do not believe that this will hold any special meaning to me. People bathe in the Verani River at all times of the day, it is inevitable to see and be seen. Such features of sexuality are just features, no less unique than your nose or eyes or hands,” Jaela explained with a casual tone. “Before the spirit of Verani, we are all laid bare and washed both physically and spiritually. Would you be willing to stay in the interest of having a private conversation?”
Valentin reluctantly turned to the partially submerged seer. The woman looked at him with intense eyes. Her nonchalance towards the situation only made him feel more foolish. He flagellated his mind to convince himself that it was not such a big deal. The insults and degradation he gave to his wounded mind shamed him into following suit.
He entered the water numb. The shame melted back into hatred and discomfort and the forces that drove him into the cool waters washed away with the sweat that coated his body.
“It is too bad that we are not in a more convenient place. If the water was still or in a tub, Zunjing can easily heat the water to a much more pleasurable temperature. But this is not so bad,” Jaela commented.
“What is the purpose of this conversation?” Valentin asked with a waspy tone, poorly masking his displeasure with the meeting.
“Let me get to the point then,” Jaela answered, unaffected by Valentin’s snappy response. “Have you engaged in sacrilege while on this campaign?”
“Sacrilege?” Valentin asked, a nervousness coating his body.
“Perhaps I used the incorrect word. As you remember, Strettian is not my native language and you are not proficient enough for us to use Overtongue,” Jaela explained. “What I mean to ask you is whether or not you have engaged in taboos?”
The pointedness of the question surprised Valentin and he drifted away from the seer and towards the edge of the stream. He could not let such sensitive information leave. Not only for his own sake, but would Ferron let a woman with that information leave unscathed?
“Why do you ask?” Valentin questioned.
“I perform two readings every cycle to understand what omens await me and the world at large,” Jaela explained casually. “Among the many visions that greeted me, I saw a small rabbit surrounded in black feathers grow into a hulking beast with blood dripping from its mouth. The souls of the animals that it had eaten writhed beneath the beast’s skin and screamed. While there is no one true interpretation of such visions, it makes me worry that someone may be engaging in ancient taboos in the interest of power. I just wished to confirm that it was not you.”
“You sailed all the way up here to discuss this with me?” Valentin tilted his head in confusion. “Why not await my return to discuss it privately?”
“There is more that I must accomplish in this valley,” Jaela answered. “It is likely I will not return until the snow clears next cycle. If my visions point towards you, I worry that it may be too late to stop these grim proceedings. So tell me, has Ferron forced such a tainted act upon you?”
“I haven’t been forced to do anything,” Valentin bristled. It was his decision after all. Nobody forced him into pursuing this path.
Jaela gave a look of relief. “That is wonderful news. If you had done something like that it would have ruined my-” A look of puzzlement crossed Jaela’s face. “That wasn’t the proper phrasing,” she muttered to herself while she furrowed her brow. “An act such as this would-. Hmm. Such a taboo would only serve to twist my first vision into further darkness. However, if my vision was not about you, then there is nothing to worry about. Though I will try to figure out who that rabbit was.”
That was all Jaela would say about the visions. Valentin quickly bathed while Jaela made small talk to him. How was his first campaign? Had he been keeping up with his language studies? Did he make any friends? All were questions that Valentin answered truthfully but with little gusto, like a child fielding questions from a relative they had not seen in some time. The lingering discomfort aided the stilted and abbreviated answers he provided.
He dunked his head underwater, providing his face with a cool shock that his body had long since adapted to. Water dribbled down his long hair back into the water at his waist. He made a quick turn back to the shore to flee from the water when one final question arrived to his ear.
“What do you think makes a great ruler?” Jaela asked.
“Pardon me?” Valentin asked, swiveling his head back towards the seer.
“One day, if you survive, you will have the chance to rule this nation,” she clarified. “Have you ever given that possibility some thought?”
Valentin paused. He knew from the druids that all Heirs eventually fight each other for the right to challenge the ruling Sovereign for control of the country. An exchange of power had not happened in his lifetime nor his father’s lifetime. The ruler has been the ruler for as long as most had been breathing. Only those of dried skin and hair of snow could remember back to the time that the throne changed hands. It was a faraway thought, lacking any true urgency compared to his hastened path towards survival. Nor did the thought have any weight behind it. It was impossible to imagine what such a position would entail, what it was truly capable of doing.
“I have not thought about it,” Valentin admitted, pausing his exit.
“There are many traits that people would name when thinking about a good Sovereign. Strong, just, fair, kind, capable, all things that one would find desirable in a person that dictates the future of everyone living in their realm. However, I think that the most desirable trait in a ruler is the ability to listen to and to trust those close to them.”
“Listen to and trust those around them,” Valentin echoed erroneously.
“A leader of a nation is no less human than you, me, or anyone in that village over there,” Jaela lectured while pointing towards the aged village. “They are fallible and prone to mistakes like everyone else. However, those that can listen to others widen their understanding of the world. Those that trust do not have to carry the burden of rule alone. At least that is what I believe.”