...and supported on fragile hope...

~

My time with Kir over the night was fun and refreshing, but of fricking course it couldn't last, just like anything else in this miserable place.

I woke the next day to clamoring and the sound of horses' hooves. When I got up, Kir was already gone, and I was alone, covered by a giant blanket that was much too big for even 3 people.

Before even thinking about who it was that showed up, I made sure to stash that blanket away for myself cause that right there is a bona fide luxury item.

I came back out to see for myself who got here, since they were causing a bit of commotion, some of the soldiers even getting excited.

When I finally got a look, I felt sick. It was the Trainee class. Well, by now they'd likely be considered cadets or even Knights for some of them. I did my best to hide, but the other soldiers started making remarks about me (the usual) as soon as they noticed me, which of course drew attention to me and got me noticed by the people I'd once been training to lead into battle.

Keith and Angelina looked just a little disgusted, Yoru looked away (and quite sleepless), and Edgar didn't move his head at all. I'd be surprised if he didn't even notice me.

One of the sergeants noticed me drawing attention (he was one of the many that did not like me), and he grabbed me firmly by the wrist and threw me into the Commander's office, slamming the door behind me.

As much as I tried to remind myself that I deserved this, it didn't stop me from being humiliated and pissed off. Even with all things considered, shouldn't I deserve at least a little bit of human decency? Especially from the people I spent so many years with and now so many months fighting and training alongside?

Do I get any sympathy for the fact that I was ordered by the kingdom to kill Lydia?

When I got inside, I looked in the mirror, and just didn't see myself. That person had different hair than me. Different skin. That one had a disgusting Scar. She was a murderer. She had the ears and tail of a cat like the animal she truly is.

It was revolting. I was revolting.

The longer I looked in the mirror, the less I could stand to see the person I've become, so I screamed and clawed at my own face, cursing myself and my sins, damming myself for the murderer I am.

I wanted to cry, to take it all back, to go home.

But I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, almost unnoticeable. Carla.

"Are you sure that's why you have your Scar?"

"I don't know," I replied in broken Elvish, then just gave up and hugged her and cried.

She eventually calmed me down and got me drinking some water (which wasn't very clean) on the couch, and I got to thinking: what could someone like Carla have done to earn a Scar like mine? Never judge a book by its cover sure yeah, but I don't see what she could have done. Or what Lydia could have done.

Perhaps there's something deeper to Scars, but that doesn't make me any less of a filthy sinner, and doesn't make this rotten camp hate me any less.

Maybe I'll catch my lucky break soon.

Or maybe the Commander entering the room with a grim look on his face is a blaring sign that I won't be catching my lucky break soon. Spoiler alert: I did not catch my lucky break.

He sat in front of me and briefly but firmly explained that I am causing too much commotion within the camp, my training is ineffective, and my healing magic isn't doing anything to help - that I'm slated to just be sold into slavery since a slave who can read, write, is strong and healthy, and has some magical capacity can fetch a fortune.

The edges of my vision and the walls around the Commander's face were beginning to go fuzzy and look like TV static, like that ceiling the one time I was in the nurse's office with a headache.

He could tell I was going into a mental shock of sorts, and snapped his fingers to try and pull me back so that he could then offer: "I'm letting you know now so you have the opportunity to leave entirely. Never show around here again and I will keep my lips sealed about where you went or who you went with."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I was shocked at first, but took the news surprisingly well. If anything, it was an escape and an opportunity. Where I'm going, I have no idea.

"I'll be gone tonight then," I stated blankly, and he got up and left. Just like that. Hardly a nod or a "good luck" or something of the sort.

He's a good man and at the end of the day somewhat has the best of intentions, but that doesn't change the fact that his people, his culture, and those that he lead are all pointing their fingers towards me and the kind that I am now with hatred in their eyes. He doesn't share the same hatred of me that most do, but it's not like he's some all-loving saint.

Either way, a victory is a victory and an opportunity is an opportunity. I guess I'll pack up and find a main road to follow.

Carla looked sad and contemplative. I gathered up the few things I had, as well as the blanket, which, after closer inspection, had a ribbon and a few buttons that let me wrap myself up in it and use it as a sort of makeshift hood, and it didn't look too bad either.

I went outside, but I couldn't find Xavier and Greyhat to tell them goodbye, and I had no idea where Kir was. I passed by Edgar and Yoru, but only briefly, and they couldn't see me through my hood. I decided it was best to just not say anything to anyone. If nobody knew where I was, then I wouldn't be hunted down or sold off to do someone else's bidding for the remainder of my days.

With a sigh, I just looked towards a thin path and made my way out. The camp wasn't walled up or anything. Guards loosely patrolled, but didn't question someone leaving the premises. So that was it. I'm left to the wolves - hopefully not literally - and all I have for myself is to figure out where to go and what to do now.

I'm sure I could manage to kill a bit of small game, sell it off in a small village and buy myself a more reliable cloak or poncho or something to conceal my face and features, and then figure out where I could go to be accepted. Even if it means hitching a ride across the continent to make it to somewhere far away from anyone I know at all, I'd rather be somewhere I can be accepted and make a decent living for myself.

As big and scary and serious and sudden as all this is, I've gotta do what I've gotta do and I don't have the time to question or debate or regret the situation I'm in. I've just gotta make the best of it. That's what I've been telling myself this whole time and it's what I'll continue to keep reminding myself, because there's something decent to make of every situation. I mean hell, I met Carla and Kir, got a few laughs, learned at least a little bit, and had a warm place to sleep every night. So can I really complain too much?

When I reached the edge of the camp, which was mostly open plains, and followed the path to the beginning of some trees - to a landscape that wasn't quite forest but wasn't empty meadow either - I took a bend and stopped to see a hooded figure unmask themself, wearing a similar blanket-jacket that I was.

Kir.

What's she playing at here? She planned this, didn't she? I mean when you're a well-respected mercenary, I can imagine you'd hear about stuff like a member of the army being slated to be sold into slavery against her will.

"So, how's it feel to be on the run?" she asked like it was just another Tuesday.

"Uncertain, I guess?"

She smiled just a little. "Can I perhaps offer you some certainty?"

I tilted my head.

"I'll train you," she offered - well, more stated. It was then I remembered: oh yeah, she's sort of like, a trained mercenary. "Matter of fact, I'll make you my apprentice. While I may have a Scar just the same as you, I'm part of a lucky few who made a name for herself doing other people's dirty work. There's not a lot of people who could say no to or question me if I took you in."

Well it's definitely better than selling berries in some small village hundreds of miles away.

"Why?" I asked the first most obvious question.

"I like you, I guess. I'm bored? I don't know. It goes a little deeper than that but that about sums it up," she shrugged it off.

"And in return...?"

"Aw don't be like that," she teased with a frown. "I'd love you to help your new absolute best friend at some point down the road because you just love her so much, but my help is free of charge." She threw in a little wink to top it off.

"New absolute best friend." Something of a brave self-insertion, don't you think?

"Fine," I agreed with little hesitation.

"Fantastic!" Kir cheered. "Welcome to being a mercenary, my dear friend Sage!"

I was perhaps a little too straight-faced, but dealt with her rambunctions anyways. "When do we start then, O Great Master?"

"Why Young One, we venture off to the great land of Teriu!"

I couldn't help but chuckle a little. She may have more blood and skill behind those shenanigans than most, including myself, know or could imagine, but she's refreshingly fun.

"But why teach me? Why even be a mercenary?"

She sighed, snapping out of her cheeriness. "To build a name for myself and the Scarred people. This is really just a side hobby in a much grander plan of mine."

I could tell where this was going. "You want to kill the demons-"

"To be in the people's debt."

I actually smiled a little, which then reflected to her. "I like it. And I'm here for it. There's been a lot of crazy, but you're one of the only things that's made sense to me. So I'll do what it takes to get stronger if it means being able to command the respect of people no matter what I look like."

Kir had a smug, accomplished look and gave me a reassuring wink. We were about to turn around and leave when a small voice spoke from the trees.

"You mean you didn't like me?" it said in Elfish, and out emerged a cloaked and shy Carla.

I gasped.

"Why are you here??" I demanded.

"I want ------ help -- I can do," she said, but I still didn't understand enough of the language to know all of what she was trying to tell me.

Kir intervened. "She says, 'I want to do what I can to help. Plus I like you a lot and I don't like this stupid army camp anyways.'"

Carla frowned at Kir, who clearly added a little extra into that translation, then the three of us laughed. And such it was decided that we would do our best to forge our own path into changing times.

Perhaps we could be the driving factor that decides the fate and outcome of everything happening.