Drab. Derelict. Insulting.
These were the words evoked within the mind when beholding the barracks provided by them from their hosts from the temple. To call it abandoned served as a disservice. This was architecture of malicious construction. Where one would normally expect find signs of neglect and decay, they would instead find sings of incompetence. Poor quality wood and stone were used to shore up the aged structure. Splinters and cracks formed around driven nails. A leftward list created by the even foundation set by the blind and infirm.
A bucket full of murky water sat next to the well in the training yard. Leaves and stems and silt settled inside, convincing all that saw it that buying barrels of ale would prove to be far more beneficial for their health. Even the most desperate or intrepid of individuals would be uncertain even after twice boiling the clouded contents.
Now that Valentin knew of the circumstances around Zalavo’s arrival, the more he appreciated it for the insult that it truly was. He could imagine, with great amounts of joy, the faces of guests given this property by scorned hosts.
It was by these virtues that it came of no surprise to Valentin that, even in the infant hours of the morning, he spotted several warriors training in the yard. Their practice spears jolted forwards with regimented movements. Valentin could see the tension in their muscles, wound like ropes about to be released.
Their focus quickly faded at the introduction of the deggan and the druid. One by one, he saw the wooden weapons loosen and drop.
“Deggan Valentin!” Cathmor greeted, voice echoing in the tranquil morning. “You’ve escaped your imprisonment!”
“Escape is not apt,” Valentin disagreed as he made his way towards the center of the warriors. “The more accurate description is that I’ve been released and banished by the druids of Allbost after involving myself in a farce. No matter, we have made contact with the proper people and things will progress smoothly from now on. Though, it does not seem that any of you were overly concerned.”
While he stopped to speak to his warriors, Zalavo continued to walk into the building. He could not blame the healer for having an even lower than normal tolerance for social interaction. Even Valentin’s root augmented condition held him just above his limits.
“Renne assumed that you knew something that we did not,” Zoe elaborated and wiped accumulated sweat from her brow. “To be fair, Marotte and Old Laud did not seem convinced by that explanation but they also did not believe you were in any danger.”
To accentuate Zoe’s claims, both Marotte and Laud offered a nod of agreement. Laud planted his pole into the ground used it in the fashion of a walking stick.
“I see,” Valentin replied with a nod. Regardless if Renne truly believed his words, it served the purpose of preventing his deg from becoming overly hot headed. Unconcerned warriors were far preferable to ones that actively plotted a prison assault.
“If it sets your heart at ease, you are free to believe that we are spiritedly training for our plan to invade the temple and free you from captivity,” Caera added with a playful grin.
“It does not,” Valentin rejected plainly. “However, I do appreciate that you all are taking the initiative in your training. Line up and I’ll watch your form.”
The five warriors quickly arranged themselves in a line with several paces of room between them. Valentin crouched on one side of the line and watched them begin. As the opening thrusts started, he moved in slow laps around the group to better appraise their progress.
Despite the lack of synchrony, Valentin could see that there was marked improvement amongst the younger warriors. Their thrusts were deliberate and precise, three strikes being made on an invisible target before moving towards the next one. They made semi-circular parries with the spear to ward off incoming attacks.
Unfortunately, Old Laud’s progress was minimal. His form, already amongst the highest of the deg, slowly lost the margin of advantage. The sheer physicality of the younger generation of warriors began to outshine the warrior. Valentin could see the frustration bubble upon his face with the realization that he looked the least impressive in the line. His grimacing expression told a tale of incoming mediocrity and the unfair passage of time. He thought that, if he were even twenty cycles younger, he’d show these upstarts just how great he could be.
“Enough,” Valentin said, raising his hand to halt the demonstration. “I can say that I’m confident that your abilities with the spear are not lacking with any of the other degs. I grant this group permission to carry their preferred weapons and may train with them at their leisure.”
Everyone in the group looked pleased with the praise and granted privilege, however, Cathmor’s joy eclipsed all of them. He was a Ferron archetype of warrior when he first joined Valentin’s deg. His skills will the hammer were suitable for his rough origin as a fourth generation brigand and not so much for a group like the Armée.
“However,” Valentin interjected, quickly halting the positive feelings. “You will not cease practice with the spear. While you have all individually improved, you lack cohesion. Only when you are able to attack as one will you be considered a professional outfit.”
“It’s difficult to strike simultaneously without your orders,” Cathmor admitted, scratching the back of his head.
“Then why didn’t you dictate the pace?” Valentin asked.
The warriors made a complicated face at Valentin’s question.
“Any of you could have taken the initiative and coordinated your strikes,” Valentin stated. “Were any of you even thinking of it, or were you all too busy trying to impress me with your individual skills?”
Continued silence informed Valentin of the answer. They kicked around at the dirt while they pondered the answer. Valentin was fortunate that his deg generally preferred to fall into contemplative silence than offer excuses.
“It was not my intent to chastise you,” Valentin clarified, not wishing to demotivate his group. “The fact that I am asking these questions is evidence of your individual growth. If, for whatever reason, Renne or I are not around to provide you orders, you must decide who that will be in advance. Whether it is your strongest or your smartest, or even your loudest. As long as you’ve made a decision, it will carry you a long ways.”
Valentin saw the furtive glances shared amongst the youthful warriors. While they unofficially competed for third in line to manage their own egos, now they were made aware of a tangible benefit to the position. Valentin shook his head slightly with the knowledge that he would see an uptick in brawls.
Aromas of cooking filled Valentin’s nose and stirred his stomach. It was a lethargic interest in the meals by his own stomach’s standards. The intentional poisoning from earlier made his body mistrusting of his next meal.
“Let’s gather for breakfast,” Valentin ordered. “There are things that I need to say to the entire deg.”
Much to Valentin’s confusion, his assembled warriors seemed overly pleased with this order. They sported the faces of a child who was overly eager to tell a parent that their sibling had erred.
“Quit smiling and gather them,” Valentin ordered. “Where is Renne?”
“Other side of the building at the fire pit,” Zoe informed him. She took a step closer towards him, encroaching upon his personal space. “I can take you there if you want.”
“Fine,” Valentin replied, truncating the interaction. He worried that impersonal resistance would only prove the mask’s scathing words true.
It was not as though there was much guiding to be done. Valentin and Zoe just walked around the barracks to reach the fire on the other side. It was too quick for Zoe to find the nerve to open into small talk and other pleasantries. However, that suited Valentin far better. He spotted Renne, along with Gélique and Coralie, squatted around the flame. A metal pot billowed steam atop a small metal stand.
“Ah, Deggan Valentin, you’re back,” Renne commented as he spotted the pair approaching him. “Coralie told me that you were apprehended, but you did not look overly concerned to her.”
“Unfortunately, when you are tasked to protect a person that goes out of his way to be harmed, you need to be arrested for disorderly conduct to ensure that worse does not occur,” Valentin replied with some residual bitterness in his mouth.
“I can easily envision a scenario,” Renne said with a chuckle. “Then, what is your impression?”
“That this is not a task that we can likely solve by through our brand of violence,” Valentin answered plainly. “The temple is hostile to Zalavo and he needs to involve Maeve. It is crucial that no harm befall them. However, I would like Maeve present before we delve too deeply into this conversation.”
“It can certainly wait until after we eat,” Renne agreed. “It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes, right Gélique?”
“You could eat it now if you are starved,” Gélique replied with a shallow smile. “But it will be tastier if you allow it to wait five minutes and cool for ten.”
“I can spare fifteen minutes for flavor,” Valentin stated and Renne readily agreed with the sentiment.
As Valentin bathed in the aromas of the pot, the warriors he watched train wandered back out of the barracks and joined them around the fire. Valentin still saw moronic grins plastered to their faces but he waved it off. Something embarrassing likely happened the night before and they wish to shame them in front of their leader. It would just have to wait for the rest of them to dress themselves before he would learn the truth of it.
Maeve arrived next. Her placid and disinterested expression discouraged any from greeting her. She took position between Valentin and Renne and waited for her meal, now off the fire, to cool enough to not melt her tongue.
“Did Zalavo speak to you?” Valentin inquired, skipping the pleasantries and moving to business.
“He told me that this was likely a disease of a spiritual origin and required my talents,” Maeve replied listlessly, her demeanor accentuated by the early morning. “I would like to visit Allbost Temple’s libraries to see if there are any texts about local spirits to determine a potential culprit. I wish that I had brought some texts from Verbosc, but it is far too late to regret things that you had no way to prepare for.”
Valentin nodded in agreement. He always found Maeve’s tranquility far different than Jaela’s. While the seer seemed to meticulously maintain her peace through practice and effort, the druid erected defenses to keep disruptive feelings away from her.
His musings did not last long as Gélique’s porridge was scooped into wooden bowls and distributed amongst the waiting warriors. Unlike the standard gruel, this version had sausage, garlic, and onions mixed thoroughly into it. Despite the unorthodox choice of accompanying ingredients, Valentin found the savory concoction to be far better than the standard fare that they usually subsisted on.
However, what Valentin found truly bizarre, was that the contents of the pot already disappeared. His deg remained incomplete. Kerwin, Mannix, Guain, and Gair were absent, explaining the giddy look on Cathmor, Caera, and Zoe’s faces.
“Would someone like to explain where four of my warriors have disappeared to?” Valentin requested.
“They went off whoring,” Cathmor stated proudly, as though he were better than them for not going. Valentin decided to just let him have his moment.
“All night?” Valentin asked rhetorically. “I don’t mind them running off for a night of fun if they have nothing else to do. However, I expect them to be ready in the morning to report for their tasks. Renne, did you allow this?”
“Partially,” the Vice Deggan admitted with a bit of shame in his voice as he recognized his error. “They complained that the barracks were unsuitable to stay in and said they would pay out of their own pocket to stay elsewhere. I didn’t think it was an unreasonable request since we are not far from the main establishments.”
“You are not incorrect, Renne,” Valentin calmly reassured. “When will they be considered late?”
“They have another hour to arrive before they have to take up additional cleaning duties,” Renne explained. “If they do not report before nightfall, I told them that they would face dire consequences.”
“Far too lenient,” Valentin commented, causing Renne to shrink further. “But I will honor your words. It is my own fault that I was incapacitated all night. However, that does not mean that I will not ignore this.”
He could see the remaining warriors hold their breath in anticipation of what punishment their deggan would come up with. Since Kerwin was amongst those that left, Cathmor looked the most interested in how the standing of his rival would be diminished.
“That also does not mean I will be announcing what it is,” Valentin stated firmly. “If you are looking to find satisfaction from this, find it in the fact that I am displeased.”
While he was certain that they wanted something more from him, the warriors present seemed satisfied that something would occur to knock those four down a peg. Valentin just needed to think of the appropriate measure to humble them.
“Let’s move on to more important matters,” Valentin ordered, directing the conversation down the path he wished. “A disease of spiritual origin is ravaging the populations, especially in the villages north of Lake Telgrig. Our responsibility, until stated otherwise, is to protect Maeve and Zalavo while they investigate this disease and determine the cause. Therefore, guarding is the most critical position.”
Before Valentin could issue any orders, Marotte raised her hand.
“Yes, Marotte?” Valentin asked.
“I would like to volunteer for the position,” Marotte offered, her initiative towards the matter taking the rest off-guard. “You have already shown faith in me by selecting me the first time, and I wish to show you that it was not a mistake.”
Valentin, taken aback by Marotte’s rare bout of verbal assertiveness, only nodded in concurrence to her statement. The quiet determination burning in her almond eyes was more than enough to give Valentin the confidence to pass the position to her.
“I would like for you to exclusively guard Maeve then,” Valentin ordered, ignoring the unwelcome look from the druid. “I do not trust anyone in Allbost to the degree that allows me to be comfortable leaving Maeve in overlong company with. Besides, you are both of a quieter nature, perhaps you will find each other’s presence more agreeable than most.”
“There are worse options,” Maeve muttered to herself, capitulating to Valentin’s overbearing actions.
“In that case, I would like to accompany Zalavo again today,” Old Laud volunteered with a similar raise of the hand. “I feel like I did not accomplish anything yesterday.”
“Agreed,” Coralie grunted. “It feels as though we failed somehow.”
“Very good,” Valentin complemented, internally grateful that this was turning out to be easier than he expected. “Renne, I’d like you to go tonight as well. I anticipate there will be a meaningful discussion today and I need you to attend. I, unfortunately, have been temporarily barred from entering the temple.”
“I will do so,” Renne confirmed. “I’m tired of playing den mother anyways.”
The warriors chuckled at Renne’s self-deprecation. Old Laud even offered him a performative slap on the back in sympathy, nearly knocking breakfast from Renne’s hands.
“Now that that is settled, I have another task,” Valentin continued.
“I’ll do it,” Zoe immediately offered, cutting off Valentin with an aggressive wave of her arms. The round of volunteers clearly made her feel as though she was missing out on impressing Valentin. The displeased looks on Caera and Cathmor’s face confirmed that the sentiment was shared.
“Very well,” Valentin assented. “Zoe, I’ll need you to buy an accurate map and explore the lands north of Lake Telgrig. While confronting whatever responsible spirit is not part of our contract, I have a sinking feeling that we will be requested to support and I do not intend on doing such a thing blind. Of course, if you find yourself coughing or feel unwell in any way, you must abandon your task and return immediately.”
Zoe nodded with apparent satisfaction at her tasking. It did not take much effort for Valentin to see that her pleased smile was not directed his way. He sighed but decided to spare the group a useless lecture on cooperation.
“You will not perform this mission by yourself,” Valentin clarified. “We should have a local in our group that should be able to help you. Cathmor, you’re from the area, right?”
Cathmor tilted his head to the side in confusion. His long hair and beard made the mannerism give off the appearance of a curious dog. His long earrings clanged like wind chimes in the breeze.
“I’m from Vessaire, Deggan Valentin,” the furry warrior corrected. “Near Caltriven.”
“Caltriven?” Valentin asked. A small flash of sadness crossed his mind at the mention of Killihan’s home.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Well, an abandoned Novesse fortress a day’s ride away. Near the northern coast,” Cathmor admitted. He awkwardly touched at the back of his head at the mention of his unsavory origins. “Easier to strike both the shipping lanes on the Crossways and the road from Jervin. At least, that’s what my mom said.”
“You don’t need to justify the location of your previous home,” Valentin reassured, feeling that Cathmor was strangely concerned about it. “I know one of you is from here. Laud?”
“I’m from Altinen, Deggan,” Old Laud replied before realizing several blank stares pointing his way. “Apologies, it is Povia now.”
“You’re thinking of Gair, Deggan Valentin,” Caera spoke up. “He’s from a town two days south of here. He was talking about it at camp that night. You may have already retired for the night by then. You were still recovering from that boat ride across the Crossways.”
Valentin internally shivered at the recent memory of his first true naval adventure. He place a hand over his face to combat the phantom nausea. Not only that, he felt embarrassed that he had gotten the origins of his warriors so incorrectly. His entire deg knew of his origins, but he had trouble keeping anyone else’s straight. How could they feel cared about if he seemed disinterested in memorizing such an important thing as one’s home realm?
What did he really know about anyone around him? Outside of their talents, he could not say with much certainty. Médéric reads, Marotte carves, and Mannix enjoys gambling. Gélique once said she enjoyed cooking and that was why she often volunteered. Was that good enough?
“Apologies,” Valentin said regretfully. “I still have troubles with the geography of the northern realms. I have not had many forays here.”
“You weren’t that far off,” Cathmor spoke sympathetically. “If I were on the opposite shore, you’d have been correct more or less.”
“I’d be more surprised if you could remember every village that gets named,” Renne agreed.
Valentin lowered his hand. It seemed that his worst inclinations rarely came true when it came to his own warriors. He knew that a faux pas like that would have earned him much grief from the warriors of the main warband. Worse still, it’d be a grievous error against the nobility that he lived with during the cold seasons. He would need to do better to overcome these flaws amongst company that would not flay him for it.
“Regardless, it seems that one of the four will luckily avoid the pyre for the time being,” Valentin continued. “Gair will accompany you. Gélique, I would like for you to go as well.”
“Y-yes, Deggan Valentin,” Gélique quickly stammered in response. “I will be sure to do my best.”
Valentin’s eyes narrowed. Out of all of his warriors, Gélique was the only one without supreme confidence in her abilities. They were in no way worse than anyone else’s. Equally as bizarre is that Ferron did not warn him about that aspect of her. He was warned of Cathmor’s overly violent upbringing, Kerwin and Mannix’s large egos, and the deep attachment between the twins. He received much in the way of notes from Ferron of his initial impressions of his hand-picked subordinates. Yet Gélique’s entry was bare.
“I would not select you for this role if I did not believe you were capable,” Valentin assured, hoping that words that he would want to hear would solve the perceived problem.
Gélique only nodded solemnly at Valentin’s words, leaving him with little faith that his efforts assisted.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten about Cathmor and me,” Caera pouted, feigning hurt.
“I would rather go scouting than to stand around doing nothing,” Cathmor moped, seeming to be actually hurt at his lack of position.
“You two have a job as well,” Valentin countered. He frowned towards Caera for her unnecessary remark but only received a teasing smile in return. “I need the two of you to accompany me today as guards. Namely, I wish to see if Mannix has found any suitable candidates to join our ranks. However, considering what I have heard of his activities last night, my hopes are not overly high.”
Valentin’s disappointed remark seemed to provide the warriors with joy. He made a complicated face at the reception. They never seemed to laugh when he intended to be funny.
“Though, I find the concept of you needing guards to be ridiculous, Deggan Valentin,” Cathmor said with a raucous laugh. “What could we possibly do for you that you could not do several times better on your own?”
“I will not be wearing armor nor will I be bring Endless Hunger with me,” Valentin replied. “I intend to exercise my capabilities as a nobleman. Besides, if you were unaware, I have not slept in over a day. While I may be appear to be fine, I can already tell that I am nowhere near as capable as I should be to defend myself properly.”
His admittance towards his condition seemed to surprise the warriors. Their leader, who is appointed through strength, showed his weakness all too readily. If this were a different deg, this would only be an invitation to rip him to shreds to determine the new master. With many of their rivals located elsewhere, the opportunity would be all the more attractive.
Fortunately for Valentin, his relation to Ferron and the natural distrust that rivals shared naturally snuffed out such ideas. Instead of hungry gazes, he received looks of concern. He did not find sympathetic glances welcome, but he would far prefer that to anything else.
“If you are complacent and someone with ill will were to attack me, this could very well be the day that I die,” Valentin sternly emphasized, this time specifically at Caera and Cathmor.
“Is there such a person that wishes to do you harm here?” Cathmor asked gravely.
“It is possible.”
Valentin chose not to answer Cathmor’s question honestly. If he were to say that such an event would not likely transpire, then the pair would immediately relax again. He had to maintain the tension if he wished for them to perform their duties diligently. The stony looks upon their faces told him that they would not relax.
“We leave in an hour,” Valentin informed Caera and Cathmor. “Zoe, if Gair is not back by the time we leave, you will follow me to the inn they stayed at and then to the tournament ground. Everyone else, Maeve and Zalavo will determine your schedules.”
“Yes, Deggan Valentin,” his warriors replied in unison.
“Renne, where are my belongings?” Valentin asked his Vice Deggan.
“I will lead you to them,” Renne quickly replied, shoveling the last couple morsels of his meal into his mouth.
Valentin and Renne left the breakfast circle and entered the unkempt barracks. Stale odors filled his nose. Their footsteps exploded with plumes of dust, tickling the inside of Valentin’s nose. He brushed the doorframe with his fingers, leaving a strange residue on his gloves. He frowned at the state of things.
“It seems not much progress was made to make this place more habitable,” Valentin commented in displeasure.
“The task was akin to draining the sea,” Renne snapped with the frustration at his futile task. “You should just be happy that we managed to make our sleeping area tolerable. Besides, there is a spacious yard for us to camp in if you cannot bear to sleep in the room.”
Renne led Valentin through a doorway whose shield from intruders had long since rotted away. Iron hinges fastened into the wooden frame left behind a memorial for the privacy that the room once had. Looking around, the room did have some amount of effort applied to it. Any of the wood or stones that may have lined the ground previously were ripped away to leave only the dirt it was built upon. Furs and cloths were placed on the ground around one of the cots, leaving that owner a much more luxurious stay than the rest.
“That one is yours, esteemed Master Guerros,” Renne informed in faux respect, directing Valentin towards the nicest of the cots.
“I see all your efforts were focused with an unsettling amount of precision,” Valentin commented.
“I just haven’t had the chance to upgrade my own,” Renne replied.” The rest are not yet experienced enough to own such niceties themselves. Maybe viewing your own sleeping arrangement is what spurned the others towards the inn.”
“They will never earn it if they spend their earnings wastefully,” Valentin stated.
Valentin clicked his tongue at the mention of his astray warriors. He knew that there was no real reason to be upset. Their services were not needed and they spent their own money on typical comforts. However, he could not help but be wary of what his deg would look like if he loosened the reins. Such behavior should be reserved for the time between tasks. Distractions during the mission would only end in disaster one day. As leader, that responsibility would ultimately fall upon him.
Valentin had already seen the results of an overly loose leash. He touched his scarred cheek in remembrance of the lesson of his weak leadership. The carocome honey and Maeve’s quick stitching had gone far in keeping the wound from festering into something far worse. All that remained was a jagged red indentation that traced along his lower jaw.
He undressed from his attire and emptied his canteen into a cloth along with scented oils. In lieu of a bath, he would need to make do with a strong scrubbing to remove whatever offensive odors lingered in his skin. At the very least, it would take him a long ways in avoiding more significant damage to his nicer clothing.
Thickly padded clothing and chainmail were replaced with riding pants and a short jacket. Quinten insisted that longer coats were the current style, however, he had little interest in sweating to death in these hot seasons.
Before he turned to leave the room, a leather bound booklet caught his eye. Aunt Yvonne had gifted him a journal the cycle before, saying that chronicling his thoughts would be beneficial to him. He lifted the loosely bound book and flipped through the pages. Only four pages had any amount of writing on them before he abandoned the book entirely. Ink could be cumbersome to bring on the road, and he tried to keep enough supply to send letters to Ferron when required.
He took his ink and quill from his possessions and departed the room with his journal. As he exited, his warriors, finished with their meals, clean-up, and lingering conversations, saw their leader already dressed and hastened into the room in his wake.
Valentin gave a shallow smile when they weren’t looking and made his way to the yard. He tested the stone wall of the well with his hand. When the structure did not budge, he tested his weight by sitting on it. Satisfied that he was not going to suddenly tumble backwards, he settled in and opened his journal.
He flipped to the first open page and wrote ‘Caera’ at the top. He flipped to the next and wrote ‘Cathmor’ and then ‘Coralie’ and ‘Gélique’ until each of his warriors occupied a page in his journal.
Starting on Cathmor’s page, Valentin wrote down ‘Caltriven’ before he forgot his warrior’s origin again. He thought about what he was going to write down next. What was information that would be considered important enough to keep track of? His favorite food perhaps, for the sake of maintaining provisions?
Valentin recalled that Cathmor once talked all morning about a roasted lamb leg he ate after Mannix accidentally made the fire too hot and overcooked their meal. Valentin wrote down ‘likes lamb liver.’
He frowned. This felt ridiculous and embarrassing. He just wanted to toss the journal down the well and forget about it. They didn’t seem to care whether or not he knew the small details about them. But they seemed to know all about each other. In that way, their shared closeness far surpassed anything that he could hope to claim he possessed.
He wanted to be closer, but he also wanted to keep his distance. He already knew that the death of someone he could call close outweighed the feeling of losing one hundred allies. As the person whose words could kill all those around him, was it right for him to possess that? Would he falter and give orders that would kill all of them because he was not willing to put any of them in harm’s way?
Valentin wrote ‘ale’ next. He had never seen Cathmor drink wine unless Valentin purchased it for the deg. He wrote it down for provisions management, surely. If his warriors were not eating and drinking what they enjoyed, they would not perform their jobs properly.
‘Women.’
It’s important to understand what properly incentivizes someone. A suitable reward for Cathmor would not be the same as a suitable reward for Gélique or Renne or Old Laud.
Valentin tilted his head as he read his most recent word again. If women was Cathmor’s greatest interest, then why didn’t he go with the rest to the inns? It was certain that they purchased a few companions for the night.
Next to ‘women’, Valentin wrote ‘strength’. He flipped to Guain’s page and wrote ‘women’.
He started to poke around all the pages, writing different things in each one. Especially if he knew that there were shared interests. He wrote whether the warrior preferred wine or ale. He wrote what foods he typically saw them eating. He wrote who he believe got along with each other and who he believed were rivals. He wrote what regions they all came from.
With most of the interests of his subordinates out of the way, it would be just as helpful to write down what they disliked as well.
Rou is afraid of spiders, he always gets Médéric to remove them. Old Laud hates gambling because he was scammed out of his ancestral sword. Marotte dislikes sharing beds and will sleep on the floor even if the mattress can comfortably accommodate multiple people. Gair dislikes horses since he received a nasty bite when he was a boy. Valentin never put him on stable duty for that reason.
“What are you writing with so much concentration?” Zoe’s voice rang into Valentin’s ears.
He snapped his head up to see Zoe leaning over him. Valentin dropped his quill onto the ground and quickly slammed the journal shut, tucking it into his jacket.
“It’s nothing important,” Valentin sharply replied. He picked up his quill and set it next to his ink on one of the stones.
“It’s Guain that dislikes horses,” Zoe stated.
“What?” Valentin asked, clutching the journal even tighter to his chest.
“It’s Guain that was bit by a horse. He’s the one that doesn’t like horses,” Zoe explained. “Gair was often pecked by the chickens his family kept so he has no love for the birds. Though he has great love in eating them.”
“I see,” Valentin frowned, erroring yet again.
“So you weren’t giving Guain stable duty on purpose?” Zoe asked.
“No,” Valentin replied, embarrassment bubbling in his mind.
“He was convinced that you were angry with him and that’s why you kept sending him into the stables,” Zoe informed with a beaming grin.
Zoe politely stifled some laughter. However the dam of sensibilities burst and she devolved into a laughing fit. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as she cackled over the realization that Guain’s quiet suffering was accidental.
“Why did he say nothing?” Valentin asked with frustration. “If he explained, then I would have taken him off of any horse work.”
“He was afraid, sure,” Zoe admitted, slowly regaining her composure between squeaks of joy from her deg mate’s suffering. “But he was far more scared of displeasing you. So he kept his head down in the hopes that you would stop.”
Valentin did not share Zoe’s joy in Guain’s discomfort. He wished for his strength to be respected to avoid rebellion. However, an overly intimidating impression allowed fundamental problems to silently pollute his deg. He would need to be far more attentive in the future to prevent such an event from repeating itself.
“So you were writing notes about everyone?” Zoe inquired further.
“Yes,” Valentin confirmed, not feeling like denying now that he knew Zoe saw it already. “After what happened at breakfast, I realized I needed to be more organized in tracking the interests of the deg. Now I know that I need to do far more than these simple notes.”
“What have you written for me?” Zoe pressed curiously, leaning closer into him.
Valentin found the proximity uncomfortable. But he held his displeasure inwards, not wishing to be overly cold. A floral scent wafted from Zoe’s clothes and skin, perplexing Valentin as to why someone who was about to take to the field would be perfumed.
“I do not have much,” Valentin admitted. “I have that you enjoy berries and that you prefer wine. You like white flowers and prefer hot seasons to cold. And that you dislike those that harass children.”
“That isn’t much,” Zoe confirmed with a disappointed sigh. “You don’t know much about me, do you, Deggan Valentin?”
“Well I only just started,” Valentin argued, not wishing to be perceived as careless. “I don’t have much written about anyone yet.”
“Is my page at least longer than Caera’s?” Zoe asked playfully.
Valentin frowned at Zoe’s question. He found this rivalry the most vexing out of all the minor skirmishes that break out between his warriors. For it was only this one where he was a prop in deciding the winner. A fist fight or a spar with training weapons did little to cool down the simmering conflict.
“Would it truly make you happy if Caera’s entry was blank in comparison to yours?” Valentin asked. “I would be a woeful leader that nobody should follow.”
“It would make me happy,” Zoe answered truthfully. “If you noticed more about that woman than you noticed about me, then I’d be quite distraught. There is nothing about her that is worth paying attention to.”
He hadn’t much paid attention to either of them recently. I’m sure that she would not be happy if he told her that Marotte enjoyed a longer entry than either of the feuding women.
“In the event that it’s close,” Zoe continued, sitting directly next to Valentin; so close that their legs were touching. “I will tell you everyone that you need to know to ensure that your notes on me are far longer than anything you could write about anyone else here. I can start with everything I like first.”
Alarms of danger clamored in Valentin’s head. Wicked spirits sporting the visage of Morna flooded Valentin’s mind, causing him to flinch away from Zoe. Phantom hands gripped his throat, making it difficult to breathe or swallow.
He needed to escape. His mind did not care for how he did it, he simply needed to end this situation as soon as possible lest his heart rupture on the spot.
Valentin jumped to his feet, knocking over his ink and quill. The abruptness of the move left him feeling momentarily light headed. He wished to say the first thing that came to his mind to dissuade these actions, but a cooler head prevailed. He was able to take a few deep breathes before offering his rejection.
Zoe watched him with amusement, finding her deggan’s flustered appearance to be cute.
“I am afraid that these affections will remain unrequited,” Valentin said firmly. “I have no interest in pursuing any sort of intimacy with a subordinate. I’m sorry if that displeases you, but I will not be convinced to change.”
“Are you not even curious?” Zoe questioned with a pout. “I think that we could get along quite well if you allowed yourself the opportunity to seek it out.”
Valentin was unsure how much of this she already prepared for. The floral perfume now smelled stronger under the realization of the reason it was worn. She adjusted her posture and slightly pursed her lips to subtly accentuate her femininity. Even Ortus seemed to conspire for this moment of seduction. The light of the morning broke through the clouds to shimmer off of her eyes and bathe her in a warm glow.
Valentin felt the spirit of his ancestor rattle ravenously on his belt loop. There was no transparency in the spirit’s desires. Carnal release and violence seemed to be the only two things that it cared about and now one of those interests posed in front of it.
“As I told Caera, I plan on being loyal to my future partner,” Valentin answered, much to the chagrin of his ancestor.
“Even if you have yet to meet them?” Zoe pressed, finding Valentin’s response to be suspicious. “Not even the most loyal of romantics took such a severe approach to romance. Besides, I heard that noble women prefer a partner with experience.”
Valentin found his exhausted head ached from the interaction. He could not understand why anyone would want to try this hard to woo him. He never showed any interest in others. As his ancestor said, his personality was barely tolerable. He found nothing about him that would be even remotely interesting to others.
“What is it about me that makes you desire me so?” Valentin asked, needing to solve this mystery so he could destroy whatever part of him led to these situations.
Zoe froze for a split second, the directness of Valentin’s question taking her off guard. She awkwardly pressed her hands together. Despite her forwardness in this situation, Zoe was far more timid with her interests than Caera was.
“Well, because I find your face the most pleasing,” Zoe shyly answered. “Even with your scar and your sleepless eyes, you far outdo many of the others in the deg.”
The ancestor shook as though the complement were directed at it. Valentin supposed that he could blame his likeness to his grandfather to the situation that he found himself in. Would everyone leave him alone if he disfigured himself? If he sliced it up or melted his skin, if he ripped out his hair, would anyone again look at him with the eyes that sickened him so?
“Is that so?” Valentin asked rhetorically, his introspective habit showing itself.
“That’s not all of course,” Zoe protested with worry that her answer was too superficial. “You’re reliable, strong, and smart. You seem to know the solution to all our issues. You have a strange innocence about you. And, you have a cute accent.”
The list of things that he had to destroy grew too long. Besides, he would likely fear the person that found his disfigured appearance attractive far more terrifying than anyone that liked him as he was now.
However, Zoe’s remarks on his innocence reminded him of his compliments that he received cycles ago in a hunting shack on the coast. Words whispered from the specter of his past poisoned the interaction. This was the incorporeal aspect that he needed to kill to spare himself from future pain. What was this innocence that permeated him? How did it present himself to others? How does one get rid of it?
“I appreciate your compliments, however, that will not sway my heart to change,” Valentin tried to reject gently, afraid that too sharp a denial would only breed resentment. “It is too important to me that I view all of you equally. Even if I loved you deeply, I would not act upon it so long that we are in the same deg.”
“But you do not love me deeply,” Zoe sighed. She got up from her seat with a deflated posture, her shoulder drooped in sharp slopes. “I suppose, if anything, that’s the thing that I dislike about you, Deggan Valentin.”
“The thing you dislike?” Valentin eagerly requested for clarification.
This would be the trait he’d need to increase in order to drive off all potential suitors in the future. By tomorrow, whatever Zoe says next would be his new personality.
“That you are so detached,” Zoe answered. “That you wouldn’t truly care whether or not any of us died during the missions. You don’t like any of us do you, Deggan Valentin?”
Valentin’s words were lodged in his throat. He did like them. He enjoyed the presence of all of them in their own unique ways. He would not replace this deg with any others. But why didn’t those words leave his mouth?
He couldn’t say that. It would only lead to questions about why he acted the way that he did. He would need to talk about Morna. He would need to talk about what happened. What he feared was the inevitable dismissal afterwards. What if Zoe said that such a thing was inconsequential and that he was destroying his relationships with the others for no reason? She would just tell the rest and he would be truly alone again.
So he said nothing. He just stood there, unable to say anything. He was paralyzed from the cyclical thoughts that rolled around in his brain.
“I just wished that you cared at all,” Zoe said solemnly.
Valentin sat quietly, allowing Zoe to leave from the well and return to the barracks. The desire to be liked clashed with the repulsion towards being loved. He wanted to care. He wanted badly to care about others. But as soon as he got too close, he’d feel disgusted by the proximity. He was afraid while in the arms of another but alone when he was at an arm’s reach. What did his fickle mind truly want? More importantly, how did he achieve it?
“I’m sorry,” Valentin said in Zoe’s direction, but the warrior was already gone.