《Path of Salt》Prologue II
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Part 2: Peaceful Days
“But how hot is it...” I grumbled, as I stared at the skies, and glared the sun. I get that it was already summer, but can’t the sun tone it down a little bit? And why’s the sun useless during winters, anyways?
With an annoyed glare, I looked at the golden fields on the hill nearby. At least those crops seemed to enjoy the hot weather...
“You know,” Marcus said, as he leaned on his hoe. He stared at the distant horizon, at the skies just above the trees. “I think I know now why you thought that finding glory in battle would be better than this.”
“Yeah.” I replied, as I raised my hoe. “But like, I got beat up real good, so I’m not looking forward to returning.” Place hoe on soil, pull, remove the weed from the earth, and repeat. It was a monotonous task like that.
It was also a tax on one’s physical (and mental) stamina, to speak.
“It’s going to serve a life’s lesson to you, no?” He asked, returning to his work. “But for me, this is probably just a short break for me, ‘cause I’m thinking of returning.”
“No way you’re going back.” I scoffed, and then he paused. I stared at him, trying to get him to say that it was a joke. When he only stared back, I felt a sigh emerge. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” He said. Then he continued to till the earth, and I kept staring at him. It was an awkward, silent while, but he spoke again. “You know when I cut down those people, I thought to myself, ‘this feels like my destiny’ or something like that. It felt like I belonged there, that I was supposed to fight and fight –”
The sound of metal striking against the fine grains of the soil sounded out. Marcus had struck a bit too hard, and I winced at that.
“—until everyone could live at peace, at least.” He stared out at the same horizon. It was blue, and the clouds were sparse. “Or something like that.”
“Your father said that war was brewing, right?” I asked, continuing to till the soil. “Are you saying that because of what he said?”
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“Probably.” Marcus shrugged. He held his hoe, much like one would hold a sword, and he swung it. “That or I just really want to fight.”
I sighed, mostly because I was an idiot.
Maybe bringing the soldier’s son to battle wasn’t such a good idea after all. It really might have awakened something in the guy.
“What exactly is your stance on war. Do you want it to happen or not?” I finally asked. It was somewhat annoying to hear the guy talk on about his like for battle, but at the same time he seems to have some love-hate-morality threesome about the topic of war.
So just spit it out, really.
“Good question.” Marcus said, and I felt my ears perk out, eager to listen. “Legally, it’s questionable.” Legally? “Morally, it’s disgusting.” Morally?! “Personally, I like it.” What.
“What the fuck.”
“I know right?” Marcus then proceeded to laugh by himself, while I was left thinking to myself. Maybe there was some joke in there, but maybe I wasn’t smart enough to pick up on it. Or maybe I was overthinking it.
“Alright, whatever you say.” I shrugged, as I continued to till the dirt. Maybe some other time, I’ll figure out why it was funny, even if it barely made sense.
***
I sat by the golden fields by myself. The sun was setting on the horizon behind me, as I turned to gaze on the village. It was a village located on a clearing, surrounded by countless trees. There was a river somewhere, carving a blue stream through the endless hills of green otherwise.
The houses were made out of wood, and had stone-chimneys. It was in the middle of summer, but the smoke rising from some of the chimneys told me that people still used their fireplaces to cook their suppers.
I had no idea if the village was small or anything, but I did feel that it was tightly-knit and felt like a proper community at least. And that’s coming from me, who isn’t exactly the friendliest person around.
By now, a solid week has passed by from our return to the village. My siblings weren’t told to follow me around anymore (thankfully) and everything was back to normal.
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“Anything on your mind?” A voice came out from behind me, and I felt my torso jerk upwards. I turned around, glaring at the person who sneaked on me.
“Ah. It’s you.” I said, finally relaxing. “Not really, just looking around. What are you doing here?”
Catherine’s caramel-colored eyes scanned about, and seemed to burn the surrounding imagery into her memory. “I came here to look at the village. And you looked lonely, so I thought I’d join you.”
“Hmm.” I let out a small hum, then I decided to go back to gazing at the village. It was already dusk, and I could see lanterns and candles being lit from the houses, one by one. “It’s going to be the festival of flowers soon, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She replied, and I let out a small hum again. Catherine was my older half-twin sister, and while she was still a year from adulthood, she probably had a lot of suitors already lining about.
In the next half year or so, she (and I) would reach fifteen. And when she does, that means she’s free to marry. Actually, no. She was free to be married, rather.
She was definitely pretty, although she was still more-so on the cuter side of things. Maybe when she grows a bit older, she’ll become more beautiful. And then – I’ll definitely defend her from people who would want her.
It was only my duty as her half-twin brother, after all.
“Have you thought about marrying anyone?” I asked.
Indeed, the first step to defending my sister would be to know who held her fancy. I turned to look at the village. It was brighter now, with the houses being illuminated over the distance, as I began to think about the suspects.
“Hmm, hmm.” She hummed in reply, and I could feel her walk around, thinking to herself. “Honestly, you kind of sound like our parents right now.”
“I’m not really trying to convince you to marry anyone though.” I shrugged. “I’m just asking if you had someone in mind already.”
“Why, why?” She asked, the second word drawled out in a tune of some sort.
“I’m your twin brother. It’s my job to see if he’s worthy of my twin sister.” I stated, somewhat proudly. But at my words, Catherine just gave a small giggle, and I felt my eyebrows furrow.
She noticed my confusion, because she held her hands out in a placating manner. “My bad, my bad. I just didn’t expect you to suddenly say that. It reminds me of father.”
Right. If there was anyone more protective of my sisters, it would be our father. I let out a small chuckle at the sight. I feel sorry for the poor sap who’s going to be judged by our father, but that was before taking my judgment into consideration.
“Well, well...” There was that sing-song drawled out tune again. “There is this one guy I like.”
“Hmm. Do you mind telling me who?” I asked, and my mind automatically cycled through the different males her age in our village. I wouldn’t mind if Catherine fancied Marcus, but that was probably unlikely. Ethos, or Maykel was probably more likely, but I didn’t trust the latter.
“That’s the fun part.” Catherine wore a mischievous grin on her face. “I won’t.”
“Huh...” I felt myself hum a particularly disappointed tune.
But then I shrugged. Maybe the few weeks I’ve been away made me miss out a bunch of significant things. And part of those significant things were Catherine finding someone else interesting, probably. Who knows if she was joking or not.
So with a shrug, we proceeded to talk about more mundane things, like the rumors and gossips which happened while I was out and about trying to get myself killed in the battlefield.
Don’t judge me, listening to rumors is fun, and is a great time killer.
What do you mean partaking in rumors isn’t something a guy like me should do? Come on, it’s the only fun thing to do on this boring village! (Aside from running away to become a mercenary, but we don’t talk about that.)
And it was at times like these, where I appreciate the tranquility of life.
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Kryp
A modern girl in the grimdark world of Warhammer 40.000Olga, a young Russian girl with a hard past. Fidus Kryptman, an Inquisitor plagued by the weight of his father's shadow. Pulled together through time and space into Ballistic Station XVI, an installation overrun by deadly and mysterious interlopers. Can Olga save the wounded Kryp - and can they survive the horrors of 40k, where the consequence of bravery and survival is often an even worse fate? T.N. THis is translation of the book by Igor Nikolaev. Please support him here.
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