High unruly waves crash against the shore, wetting the half-rotten docks as men run about hurrying to unload a compromised trading ship. The boat’s twin masts rise proudly in the sky, but rather than pointing straight up they are conspicuously angled, no doubt due to the sizeable mutilation marring the vessel’s left hull.
Standing tall in the early morning rain, Zane observes the ship take on more and more water as time goes on, as well as his subordinates swarming around it like a collective of desperate ants as they carry out various bits of cargo from the sinking watercraft.
“It’s lucky you were able to make it back with that kind of damage.”
Looking at the worried marine captain next to him, he expresses his genuine surprise.
“Aye, the blasted waves threw us into some rocks not long after we left. I thought that was it for us but thankfully the ocean spirit’s wrath was being directed somewhere else.”
Nodding at the olive-skinned trader’s remark, his watchful gaze continues scanning the proceedings.
Eyebrow twitching as he notices a certain pair displaying markedly lax behavior despite his earlier orders, he screams out. “For the love of the goddess you two, hurry up! The goods are waterlogged enough as it is!”
Knowing that every second matters in securing the merchandise, the ginger is adamant about speed in hopes of earning a higher payout.
Despite trying his best, the deputy can’t help but feel frustrated in his heart. As has been inevitably happening lately, Jeralt is off on his own somewhere, leaving the young man in charge of leading the men and maintaining order. The problem is that he can’t exactly fill the same shoes as his captain. He doesn’t possess comparable presence or ability, and it’s more than clear from how several under his command are rather lackadaisical in their current duties.
Yelling at the aforementioned group yet again to stop chatting and pick up the pace, he feels a nudge on his arm. Glancing over his shoulder, a jeering smile enters his line of sight.
“Havin’ some trouble there Zane?”
The ginger clicks his tongue, “It’s about time you guys got here, your boys are getting rowdy per usual. Go and deal with it. Also, I’m sick of reminding you Sean, it’s either deputy or lieutenant to you!”
A small chuckle escapes the mercenary’s lips as he flashes his crooked teeth.
“Aye aye, lieutenant,” he says almost mockingly while making a sloppy salute.
Glancing behind him, he waves his hand froward, “Come on.”
As Sean and a few others pass by, Zane can’t help but wrinkle his nose a little. They always smell of trouble, that is aside from the cheap alcohol and wet dog, even if he’s never seen them do anything worth the suspicion. Although they aren’t the only ones among the former knight’s mercenary band that have such qualities.
“Why Jeralt keeps men like this around is beyond me…”
Whispering under his breath, the vice-captain watches his underlings work, begrudgingly admitting that the troublemakers are more in line than they previously were.
Approximately an hour later, the entirety of the salvageable goods have been safely compiled in a nearby storehouse. As soon as everything remotely recoverable was collected, the group of mercenaries along with the sailors all helped beach the boat at the nearby shipyard before going their separate ways, returning to whatever they were doing previously.
Trudging along a muddy path, Zane can’t help but let out an exhausted sigh prior to directing his gaze toward the decidedly heavier coin pouch looped around his belt. Fingering the bulges that produce a slight jangle with each step, a light grin graces his lips as he mutters into the wind, “It feels good to earn your own money…”
Making it to the inn, he swiftly opens the tall oaken door, desiring to be free of the irriguous onslaught leaking from the heavens above. The innkeeper raises her head to study him but soon returns to whatever task she was doing as he removes the hood obscuring his face.
Shaking some of the water off of his cloak and attempting to remove some of the mud from his boots using a rough floor mat, he then begins to head up to his room.
Walking up the creaking wooden steps, he takes note of another person beginning to descend from above.
Glancing up, the ginger speaks with a tone of resignation, “Going out again?”
“Yeah. I assume everything went well with the sailors?” “Yes, they paid good coin, but the work would have been smoother if you were there. The men don’t respect me as they do you, I -”
A deep voice cuts him off, “I’m sure you’ll get a handle on it. You’ve done just fine up to now.”
Not even bothering to respond, the young man merely shakes his head and finishes walking up the stairs. He then watches the other figure, Jeralt, make his way down in a heavy dark cloak, not hesitating in disappearing into the torrential rain outside.
The deputy’s eyes linger on the space where his captain disappeared for a moment, then he continues on his way to his lodgings.
Unlocking the door, he makes his way into a tiny wooden room, barely large enough to hold the bed and dresser contained within. There are larger rooms he could have gotten, but he’s grown to be rather fond of the simpler and less expensive options during his tenure as a mercenary.
Sitting on the plainly carved chair next to the door he takes off his mud-caked boots and puts them in the corner, then does the same with his wet clothes, weapons, and pouches.
Now in nothing but his smallclothes, he uses a small rag to rub the dampness from his skin. He runs the cloth over his form, across his chiseled body and scars, until he’s satisfied that he’s relatively dry. Then he eagerly leans back onto his quaint bed with a sigh of contentment.
Laying there, his fatigue hits him with all its might as his muscles relax and proclaim their tiredness. Before long, his eyes begin to unavoidably close as he gives himself to the alluring embrace of sleep, but unfortunately the blissful moment doesn’t last long as a light knock on the door chases away the grasping arms of temptation.
Taking one last second to relish the feeling of comfort, Zane sits up with a low groan and makes his way to the door, opening it.
Standing there on the other side is the compact passive figure of Byleth. Looking down, the older sellsword manages a light smile.
“Is it that time all ready?” he asks while ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Yes.”
Simply nodding, the youth waits there patiently as his mentor gathers himself.
“Very well then, let me grab a few things and then we can be on our way.”
“Okay.”
Just about every day from roughly nine in the morning to three in the afternoon, Zane teaches the kid a wide variety of subjects.
He took it upon himself to do so knowing that the captain’s son wouldn’t receive much if any proper instruction otherwise, but this only started a year ago when the youth officially began training with the mercenaries. Up until that point they had scarcely spent exceedingly large periods together since Zane was usually busy adjusting to his new life and position.
Despite this relatively short period of instruction, the teal-haired lad has absorbed a considerable amount of knowledge, completely surprising the mercenary lieutenant.
A large part of this can be attributed to the child’s innate curiosity and willingness to learn, but in the ginger’s eyes the rate at which the boy retains new information is simply absurd. In his heart he had already suspected something akin to this to occur but it’s still beyond his expectations, nonetheless.
Even so, due to the wide array of topics being covered and the reasonably brief duration that is a year, they’re not yet diving into any advanced topics but it’s still a curriculum that other kids his age likely couldn’t even hope to understand.
----------------------------------------
Gazing out the window, Byleth watches as the pouring rain slides down the glass. The weather is still poor, but he can tell that it isn’t quite as bad as the previous night.
He was sleeping in the nearby forest, as he had become used to from his travels, but was cruelly awoken from his sweet dreams in the middle of the night as it began to downpour on him. Ultimately, he was forced to run to the inn and rest there instead.
Breaking from his drifting thoughts, he eventually turns and looks back at his paper, regaining his focus yet struggling with a mathematical equation written on the parchment.
Doing the numbers in his head, he writes something and moves onto the next problem. As he begins to read it though, a voice rings in his mind.
‘Quite studious, are you?’
He scribbles an answer down before replying, ‘I like learning.’
Despite seeming nonchalant, Sothis’s presence has an immediate and unnoticed effect on his demeanor as his shoulders and posture becomes increasingly relaxed in his wooden seat.
‘Is that so?’ her voice contains an amused tone as she continues speaking. ‘Perhaps, then, you would be interested in receiving some instruction from yours truly?’
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The adolescent’s quill stops mid stroke as he comprehends the words and sets the writing instrument in the container of ink next to him.
‘You can teach me?’ His voice, mental or not, contains a rare hint of intonation, almost as if he’s surprised by the offer.
Glancing up from the book he was reading at the front of the room, Zane observes Byleth seemingly lost in thought as he sits back with his eyes closed. Shrugging his shoulders, he resumes his perusal, the patter of rain on the roof calming him.
Meanwhile, a cute growl rings through the juvenile’s brain as Sothis speaks in an almost offended tone, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
After a light snort, her tone shifts to one of utmost elegance and superiority, ‘I’ll have you know child, that my wisdom surpasses all. There is not an aspect of this world that is unknown to me. You should feel honored that I deign to instruct you out of the benevolence of my heart.’
For a time Byleth says nothing as the vivid image of her smug grin appears in his mind, but eventually he tilts his head while asking a seemingly simple question, ‘So who are you?’
Sothis takes more than a few seconds to respond, ‘What?’
‘Well, you said that you know everything about this world, so who and what are you exactly? I’ve been wondering.’
Another long stretch of silence takes place ahead of a strange yawn filling the void.
‘Oh my, would you look at that? It seems my fatigue has caught up to me. So sorry, but I must retire. Enjoy your studies!’
She speaks quickly in an odd sounding tone of voice and he soon feels the familiar sensation of her presence fading to the recesses of his consciousness. His blank stare contains a hint of confusion as he thinks on what just happened, but not finding a completely satisfactory answer he eventually returns his gaze to his paper.
Unknown to him, in the strange space in which the mysterious girl resides, she currently has her red tinted face buried into her hands as she swims in her embarrassment.
----------------------------------------
Another hour passes, and seated at a small table, he’s now going over the notes that Zane had given him to help learn Tuatha. His teacher of sorts had left some time ago, but the youngster had decided to continue studying the material given to him.
Slowly sounding out each word, he tries to improve his pronunciation, a factor that Zane has remarked time and again as being vital. It’s important to sound natural, he had said.
Practicing for a while, his train of thought inevitably drifts back to a certain green haired girl. Reaching out with his psyche to feel for Sothis, he hopes to talk more with her. Through their connection, he can tell that she is still resting and so instead lets his mind be filled with her image, as vivid as if she is standing before him.
What she had said yesterday about always being with him really stirred something within. He’s all too used to his existence as a loner and finds it difficult to connect with others, however, with her it feels natural and also causes him to experience things he normally never does.
Although he doesn’t quite understand any of it, he is eager nonetheless to have someone who can now bring out those qualities in his life. Someone who makes him feel things, who he can get close to, who he can… As Byleth is daydreaming about these different things he’s suddenly thrown out of his thoughts by a sharp pain in the rear of his head that sends him jerking forward.
Quickly jumping out of his seat, the novice warrior gets into a low crouch and reaches for his dagger only to not feel it, having taken it off earlier for the lesson.
Looking for the sudden attacker, he freezes when he sees that it is two people he recognizes, members of the New Dawn Mercenary Group peering down at him with leering smirks.
One of them is tall with dirty and disheveled blond hair, in contrast, the other is a stockier bald man with a large ugly scar running up the side of his face. With simply the mere sight of them, the warm and fuzzy aspirations that he was imagining with Sothis slowly begin to crack.
Without warning the scarred knave comes up and roughly pushes him to the wall as the other begins to speak.
“Hey there demon boy, how’s it goin’? You weren’t planin’ to attack your best friends, now were you?”
Instead of responding, the youth silently looks at the taller individual speaking, however, his pupils can be seen quivering ever so slightly. The blond mercenary scowls while walking over to the restrained child and grabs him by the chin.
“So, you want to be silent again today? That’s fine…” then he comes right next to kid’s ear and whispers, “It’s more fun that way, gettin’ you to make a sound.”
Saying that, he delivers a strong punch to the gut that knocks the wind from him, but the bald-headed brute still securely holds him to the wall, allowing another couple of blows.
After a few hits, a small groan escapes the youth’s lips which halts the punches as the aggressor begins to snicker as if he had just heard a funny joke.
“Ahh, there we go, that’s all you needed to do.”
The one restraining Byleth searches through the boy’s clothes, pulling out a few gold coins and greedily examining them. The cobalt orbed adolescent merely watches the man take away the money he had earned, not lifting a finger to resist.
Pocketing the stolen wealth, the scar-faced brute releases him, letting him slide to the floor as he clutches his chest. Smirking, he says, “Thanks for the spendin’ money freak, we’ll see you again the same time tomorrow. As thanks for the festivities last night, we’ll leave it at that for now.”
As the duo begin to walk away, the blond-haired reprobate happens to take a glance at the papers that were being studied prior to the rude interruption. Stopping, he picks up a sheet and examines it, soon beginning to laugh and rip it apart.
Grabbing at each and every note related to Tuatha he begins to tear them up and scatter them on the floor. Unknowingly, Byleth lightly clenches his fist watching the cruel scoundrel destroy his study material.
As the last of the shredded papers finds itself on the ground, there is a brief silence that’s quickly broken by the blond’s loud yelling.
“What the hell was that you fucking demon?!”
Swirling around to face his victim once more, the man seems genuinely angry as he shows a fierce scowl.
“You think you can learn some fucking language and suddenly fit in? Hah, you’re a damn monster that’s stained with blood, a filthy animal like you will never belong anywhere.”
Coming up to the boy he grabs him by the neck and pushes him against the wall, baring his crooked teeth. Feeling the pressure against his windpipe, the teal-haired youth struggles to breathe as he reflexively brings his hands up and tries to wrest the scoundrel away from him to no avail.
“Look at me you little freak. D’you think you’re normal? D’you think other kids go ‘round slicing people’s throats without blinking? Well let me tell you right now, you’ll never fit in, not when they learn what you are. Even your own father and that bastard ginger will throw you to the side eventually, mark my words. A demon like you has no right to try and be normal!”
As he goes on his long tirade, Byleth just listens helplessly, his arms eventually dropping to his sides in defeat. With each word that comes out, the expression in his eyes becomes increasingly more pitiful before disappearing entirely, reverting to his typical emotionless façade.
Everything seems to turn into a blur and the next thing he knows, he’s lying on the ground completely alone, the silence except for the beat of rain on the roof unusually deafening.
He stays there for a while, a storm of emotions swirling in his head as he repeatedly recalls the man’s wretched declarations, unable to stop them from taking free reign of his thoughts. Unknowingly, a lone tear finds itself wetting the floorboards below.
In this moment he desperately wants to reach out to Sothis, to find some sort of reprieve from the nightmare hanging over him. Ultimately though, he holds himself back, the fresh words of sewn doubt still prevalent in his mind.
Luckily, perhaps, the lass was in a period of deep sleep as the men had their twisted fun with him, and although he wants to hear her voice, he would also much rather not expose his reality to her.
After a lengthy period, he shakily manages to stand despite the newfound aches and pains racking throughout his body. Slowly limping to the shredded pages, the boy stares at them in silence then carefully collects and puts them into his bag, leaving the room soon after.
----------------------------------------
Later in the afternoon, Byleth is walking aimlessly around another sequestered beach area that he had discovered during his usual exploration.
A drab gray sky hangs above, the previous heavy rain having finally halted. Despite not being the image of picturesque beauty, the juvenile warrior finds it to be decidedly in line with his current disposition, bitterly noting the allegory of the once beautiful open blue sky now appearing as it presently is.
Such negative thoughts don’t drag him down though, as he fades once again into a natural state of indifference, or at least his best attempt at it.
Although he would normally be training and studying for almost the entire day, he currently has the affordance of wandering since his father and Zane decided to give him some rest. He never requests any of his own accord, so it usually goes unnoticed that he trains day and night for weeks and months in a row without much respite beyond the usual.
When the two realized that they couldn’t remember the last time they gave him a proper rest day they had a brief argument before chasing him out of the room he had holed himself up in. Thus, here he is exploring the coastal region they’re temporarily in.
Walking barefoot across the wet sand, he notices something moving rapidly along the ground and jogs over to see what it is.
A little gray animal is digging in the sand and quickly notices the approaching figure, if its turn to look at him is any indication. Crouching next to it, he takes note of the small shell mounted atop what he assumes is its back, marveling at how certain creatures can live in them just as Sothis had said.
By reflex he lowers his hand towards the specimen, the grim thoughts of earlier momentarily fading. Instead of running, it looks at the lad with its protruding teensy eyes then slowly begins a slow crawl toward him, attempting to go into his outstretched palm.
Right as the critter is about to climb up, the youth’s vision is suddenly filled by the flash of a heinous smile and he quickly pulls his arm away. The tiny creature stares for a moment, wiggling its tiny claws up at him, but getting no response it eventually returns to its hole and continues digging.
Gazing at his hand, the boy slowly eases his clenched fist and sits down, simply watching it go back to its work with his usual impassive expression having returned the same as always.
‘Do you enjoy watching animals?’
Habitually twiddling his fingers, he quickly stills hearing the lovely sound that appears to be ceaseless in causing perplexing emotions to override his being.
Opening his mouth as if to say something, he quickly stops. Instead clenching his fist and silently nodding, his gaze never turning from the intriguing multi-legged creature yet no longer seeming to look at it all the same.
‘I see, I too enjoy marveling at the beauty of nature. This little one is called a crab, it’s one such animal that lives in a shell as I told you yesterday. Tell me though, why did you not want to pick it up? It should be rather harmless.’
Hearing the girl’s question, Byleth’s eyes wander to his right hand, specifically to a thin scar on the side of his palm.
‘I’m too dirty,’ he says after a moment.
Inside of his mind the girl on the throne expresses confusion as she recalls him bathing not too long ago but shrugs her bare shoulders and decides to change the topic.
‘Do you not want to go play with the other children? I saw you pass many on the way here, it must be lonely by yourself.’
This time he responds immediately, accidently speaking the word aloud with more force than intended.
“No!”
Sothis frowns as she hears his answer and observes his somewhat strange behavior but refrains from saying anything further, perhaps sensing his mood.
And so, the two spend an odd moment of respite by the sparkling blue sea, a divide between them that the maiden hadn’t expected based on their previous encounters.
----------------------------------------
That night Byleth can’t seem to sleep.
Twisting and turning in his bed, his father’s grizzly snoring echoes around the room. It’s still much too wet outside for him to get a comfortable rest and so he was left with no choice but to sleep in the inn, not his ideal arrangement but unfortunately necessary.
Cobalt orbs staring up at the darkened ceiling, a sense of unease and worry flows through his chest that is concealed by his otherwise calm appearance. Turning onto his side, he closes his eyes and attempts to ignore both his inner turmoil and the racket, instead letting his exhaustion take over, the allure of inviting visions beckoning to him from the beyond.
Such pleasant tidings are beaten back, however, as the vivid events of earlier, as well as those throughout the last several months, manifest to haunt him instead.
The assaults and torment seem as if they are happening anew, the blossoming pain from the myriad blows appearing just as vividly as it had the first time. Worse though are the words. The words repeatedly beaten into him, that tell him how he is so much less than his peers, how he is a simple monster unworthy of affection or anything good in the world. Words that he is actually beginning to believe.
Eventually those malevolent dreams come to an end, but they are only replaced by something much worse.
His fears for the future.
Fear that the newfound shining light in his life will be corrupted by his dirtied hands. That she will come to see the reality of who he is and turn her back on him. That he will truly be condemned to live as nothing more… than a demon.