EDIT: (28/2/16) Summary till now-Spoiler :

Cumaria tries to summon three heroes 109 years after the death of the previous demon king, just before the new one is born. They botch it by summoning four people. Boris is the odd one out, with no magic and no (apparent) ability. His friends are bona fide celestial heroes. While his friends are away Boris shows good aptitude at learning languages, understanding magic, pissing off Elaine and picking up squabbles with the young prince. He gets into a duel with the prince, blows him off his feet but loses and gets whooped. Against the wishes of his friends, he gets himself expelled from the castle and starts his journey with Diana (badass she elf) and after insane training, pits himself against the Cult (who?) and an ogre. Ends up defeating and ogre and nearly dying. Now we're here.

Did I mention his will is very strong? okay done.

This chapter has undergone some large changes in dialogue and exposition. If you remember it from before, I'd advise you only skip the part where Boris works the fields. The rest has changed a lot.

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13. Revelations

“By eight of thin of green blood, and one of Solomon’s kin

Shall last of rites be fulfilled, and end in last of sin

So slay the One of last, and let his blood so fall

By wrath of Lost of ages, let Scourge beckon the call

Let loose the spawn of darkness, to seek their lord again

And let the end begin, and let the truth regain”

¬¬--- The Lost Archives, author unknown

# 13. Revelations

“Mercy of dragons!” Diana exclaimed as she emerged on the ledge. She could barely see a boy march up a kneeling Berg ogre while it roared incomprehensibly. She had an ominous guess as to who that tattered, near-dead lump of human was. She jumped immediately, while the boy lunged madly at the ogre’s head, piercing his arm through its eye.

“Oh lord!” Elaine exclaimed behind her, taking in the horrendous scene. A blood-dripping pedestal with corpses strewn about. Goblins stabbed through their heart and more of them crushed along with a cage. Then her eyes fell on the ogre, and a bleak resemblance of human that had lunged at its head. Her heart wavered.

‘That fool!’ Diana cursed him while cursing herself for being late. The way down had been littered with wards. Poor as they were, they were still dangerous and could have collapsed the whole structure. There was no time to regret however. “You take the ogre, I take the kid!” she shouted at Elaine and eyed the writhing ogre as it fell along with the boy. Elaine obeyed the advice promptly, her mind struggling to make sense.

Loud squeaks resounded throughout the cavern, but none of them heeded it.

Diana reached out just in time to hold the collapsing body. He was an ugly mess, a mangled heap of broken bones that settled noisily in her arms. She leaned in to hear the faintest hint of apology on his blood-strewn lips. A severe expression crossed her eyes. “You had best damn well be sorry,” Diana uttered while lifting Boris up, and jumped off the ogre’s body. She crossed Elaine who darted up and sliced through the ogre’s neck, a longer blade of light glowing on her scepter.

More loud squeaks sounded from above.

“Shut up Argyvael, you worthless clump of feathers!” Diana scowled while laying Boris down carefully. With a start, she ripped his clothes open and pressed her ear against his chest. It was faint, but it was there. ‘He just might survive…’ She produced a bunch of potions while her other hand pressed hard against his chest. Boris twitched weakly with each spell she used. Her healing magic was not working well.

Argyvael squeaked harder and the ogre finally fell dead.

“Slice the cage above Elaine,” Diana asked as she selected a few potent potions of healing and rejuvenation. “Then skin him alive and roast him dead,” she added in a stony voice.

Elaine felt the first of her senses regain at the heavy cynicism in Diana’s voice. ‘It was the cult! It was the thrice damned cult!’ she realized. The hexagram had always been a symbol of that vile organization, and bloodshed was not beyond them. She sliced through the cage above and let her eyes wander warily. They stopped at Diana. She walked towards her apprehensively.

“Breathe!” Diana yelled while she continued to use healing magic, “Breathe for me!” Her vast reserves of mana sank into Boris and she chanted, turning to arcane magic. The arcane healing spells were as unpredictable as they were potent, making them risky. A small gasp of breath emerged to her satisfaction. Then a few more rapid, shaky whimpers left his lips.

The cage above rattled and fell to pieces, metal clanging against the ground in absurd irritation. And Argyvael, the snow-white hawk, emerged with his tail glowing. He swooped towards the pedestal without a word, blowing a torrent of wind that tore the pedestal to pieces, and piled up wreckage upon the already wrecked chamber. Then he turned and perched beside the others.

“Will he survive?!” Elaine asked tersely, recognizing Boris. She had feared this would come, it came worse than she feared.

“He has lost too much blood. Wet the cloth, and drip the potion bit by bit, mix it with water, bandage his arms, keep the head aligned,” Diana ordered randomly while still trying to heal Boris.

“Why did you let him—

“I did not,” Diana cut short her accusation. “Now let me focus.”

‘If I may—

“You had best keep quiet Argyvael,” a scathing Diana answered, “I may really skin you otherwise.”

A weak squeak left his beak as Argyvael bent his head, shrinking at the Will Diana was emanating. The woman beside her looked even scarier, her black eyes digging deep into the collapsed boy. ‘Good for you boy, or maybe not…’ Argyvael voiced without thought.

Boris was still unconscious, his breath coming and going erratically. Elaine had torn her sleeves and dipped them in the potion. She squeezed it upon his lips while pouring a few sips of water from her waterskin. They spilled inside and out with his shivering mouth, mixing with both saliva and sweat. Elaine swept the liquid back with the cloth, squeezing it again into his mouth.

His pulse was flickering, his chest heaving weakly in hope of survival. A muddle of emotions formed through Elaine. This was partly her fault. She never should have let the inept go. She knew what awaited him. Now there was little she could do to save him.

Diana continued her chants while placing both her hands upon his chest. Though it was barely keeping Boris alive, she hoped he would pull through.

Hope, unfortunately, was not so easily tempted. His struggles grew weaker, breath becoming a wisp of air and heart receding against death. His skin grew colder and Diana’s eyes flinched. She was losing him. Elaine recognized that expression with shock, “No, there must be something you can do.”

“Get back Elaine Sithe,” Diana’s voice turned somber. The air beside her started to glow and shiver. She leaned in, pressing all her weight upon his chest, palms crossed over his sternum and breathed an apology, “Forgive me Ary’ann for I cannot let this child die.”

And then the ground rumbled as arcane magic erupted. A massive amount of mana formed around her. Both Elaine and Argyvael withdrew, wary of it. The floor melted and caved around Boris. Small streamlets of water erupted to flood in and engulf him. They seeped through the wet mud that started to solidify.

Sweat rained down Diana as she continued, her face now tense and her breath rapid.

The earth reformed to a cast, covering all but the head of Boris. It glowed red with fire and the flames flickered nearby. It brought a shade of red to the pallid, cold cheeks of Boris and again, a breath escaped his lips. Hope had been tempted.

Diana smiled as she finished the chants, letting the wind settle inside the cast and simmer the fire.

“He will live,” she breathed a sigh at Elaine, too tired to speak any louder. She extended her arm and Elaine took it with some displeasure. Diana grimaced, “Do you ever change?” Then she turned to face Argyvael. “Carry him outside, then we will talk.”

‘Right, right. You are turning like your mother, Diana of Silverdeens. I am fed up of this heat anyway,’ the hawk complained but obeyed nonetheless. He swooped his tail below Boris and rolled him up, feathers grabbing around him in support.

They climbed up the stairs to the ledge, turning at last to take in the tragedy that had fallen. The cultists and bandits lay among their victims’ corpses. Weak flames spread the stench of death through the murky air and blood soaked the ground black. A single elven child lay dead among the remains, her face still frozen in time. Diana felt pain sear up as she saw the dead child. Then she etched an intricate glyph into the wall and let Elaine activate it.

It sent a pulse through the chamber as they walked away. Behind them, the flames now roared and ravaged, eating through the remains hungrily.

“Now then,” Diana spoke when they were finally outside and rested. “You let bandits invade your turf, you let them bring in demons and you let my disciple die without lifting a finger, or a claw. Give me a reason I shouldn’t just kill you now.” She eyed Argyvael, his brilliant white plumage still glowing in the last sun of the day.

The hawk stared at her intently for a time. Sharp brown eyes met sharply with Diana’s and he crooned a little. His buff underbelly and speckled crown made him seem regal, until he spoke. 'You know the reason.' It was a girlish accent with a squeaky undertone, like an overexcited maiden. Elaine swallowed a dry chuckle.

‘They had me under eight layers of your call-it-what confinement, I couldn’t even use speech.’ Argyvael pointed his beak towards the pile of tied up bandits. These were the ones rescued for interrogation, the rest had been left to fate. The mages were all dead, half of them having committed suicide.

“And how exactly did they catch you?” As Diana spoke, the cave entrance collapsed with a rumble behind her. Backdropped with the explosion, her eyes narrowed terrifyingly. Argyvael turned his beak up in reluctance, peering at the sky. ‘The cowbinge,’ he grumbled.

Elaine frowned from her seat on the pile of bandits, “The cowbinge is a myth.”

‘Yes, well excuse me my lady whose name I know not, but I didn’t know that they were a myth did I? Besides, what I am about to tell you will make you flunk your myth lessons. It is like telling you the sky is not blue anymore or that you can fly without wings—

“Out with it,” Diana cut in.

‘Yes, yes, I know. Your disciple did great in stopping these people, you know. They were cooking up a disaster, a really horrible one. But then again, I should have known that massive Will,’ Argyvael turned towards Boris, ‘It is what I would expect of your disciple, made me nervous, it did.’

“What—

“Not now Elaine,” Diana cut Elaine off midway, never betraying the slightest hint of surprise. She did have an inkling, now it was confirmed. “Stop digressing, Argyvael. How did they bring in the demons?” she veered the conversation around.

‘That is the thing, they summoned goblins! Before my eyes, I saw demon after demon pop out of air. They killed a lot of people while at it, something like a sacrifice. And worst yet, that was just to be the beginning!’

Faces hardened at this. Never before had anyone summoned the demons. One would have to be doubly suicidal to do that. The Cult was always doubly suicidal, but it never had the means to do so. That raised a lot of dangerous questions. How did they come by such means? Was it yet another misled attempt to resurrect Solomon? And what worse could follow?

“What could be worse?” Diana asked in a grim tone.

‘You might not believe but I speak the truth. They planned to summon a scourge! That was the ritual your disciple interrupted, thankfully. Nature bless him, what’s his name?’

Words fell like lightning upon silent night. “The scourge?!” Diana asked with knitted eyebrows, “Do not spin lies,” her voice turned stony, “the scourge cannot be summoned. No one even knows what they are.”

Elaine herself started but did not speak. It was insane to even think of summoning a scourge. One might as well have summoned the devil next. She pointed a skeptical gaze at Argyvael who crooned again.

‘I am not lying. Why do you think I crushed the pedestal first of all? It could summon the scourge. And you should have done that first too. You people have your priorities messed up!’

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Diana retorted, “That was a hexagram on the pedestal, the cult’s symbol. There is no summoning glyph like that.”

‘Believe what you will,’ Argyvael rebuffed. It seemed like a tantrum though. ‘I do not know your cults and glyphs but I know what I heard. They wanted to summon the scourge.’

“Alright, that will be that. Is there anything else you want to speak of?” Diana asked as she prepared to leave. She needed time to think upon what had happened.

‘The child’s name, what is it?’ Argyvael walked to the unconscious Boris, extending a talon towards him. Elaine put a hand on her scepter but Diana stopped her. “It is Boris Debron, why?”

‘Boris Debron. Let him know that Argyvael of Avians owes him favor,’ his voice turned sober as Argyvael etched a small mark on Boris’s forehead. A V-shaped wound glowed then thinned to a fine cut. ‘And let him know that Avians never forget their debts.’

“Then perhaps you would like to repay another favor,” Diana insinuated.

‘I owe you nothing, child of fairies, but I shall be with your cause if you must ask that,’ Argyvael turned east as he spoke, readying himself for flight.

“Not me but Sikata. He helped lead us here. Even spoke of you.”

‘Curses! I am leaving before that grouchy, tasteless fellow comes! Tell him he has no permission to come into my territory and I will meet him when the moon dieees…’ Argyvael’s voice faded to an echo as he fled swiftly, wings fluttering into the dusk.

“How are we going to carry all of this?” Elaine asked Diana, seeing the hawk fly away.

“We will drag them to the river, then down through it. Let us hope Sikata is there to help,” Diana replied as she hefted up Boris, leaving the pile of bandits to Elaine. Elaine frowned before turning to drag them. “You drove him to his death. Is this what you promised?” she said accusingly.

“Isn't it though?” Diana replied.

“When I asked you to help him, it didn't mean push him to half-death and then save him.”

“No it didn't. But then, this isn't about what you asked, it's about what I promised.”

“That's pure sophistry, don't give worthless answers,” Elaine remarked in annoyance.

“Then don't ask worthless questions. He isn't giftless like you think, and if he doesn't face his limits, he will never overcome them.”

“You don't understand Diana. He isn't a hero, he isn't invincible, he really will die if this continues.”

“You do know he's probably going to die anyway right? Isn't it better to do it this way? If I cannot provide him the strength to live, I'll at least give him the courage to die.”

“And that right there, is exactly why I hate you. You and your Elkeenian ideology.”

“That's the irony,” Diana smiled ruefully, “If anyone, I expect you should understand it best.”

Elaine sighed. There was no use arguing anymore, not with Diana. “Where will you go now?” she asked exasperatedly. She had given up on convincing Diana otherwise.

“To Bizeon, I need to inform the Embassy and make a few preparations for Cylia.”

“Then best we go together.”

“What of the heroes? And Durham?” Diana asked curiously.

“An unnecessary concern,” Elaine stated as she flicked her hair open, removing the hairpins. It flowed down on her blood-speckled clothes, making her look horrifying in the dim light. “I was worried when they turned out to be children but it seems they are heroes nonetheless. Durham is not much of a concern either, I will send him a report through the garrison along with this pile of prisoners.”

Diana stopped a moment, gauging Elaine through her sharp green eyes. “You have changed, A'laina. That’s very odd of you,” she suggested.

“I am just doing my duty, as I always will.”

Diana laughed. She never considered what Elaine was doing to be her duty, just her wish. They ignored each other till they walked into an open clearing and Sikata appeared. He plucked Boris without a word, seemingly out of concern for the still exhausted Diana and led them back. Night had fallen and a half moon gleamed happily in the clear sky. But far, far away, darker clouds were rising up.

------------------------

Boris lay upon the dank ground, scrunched up and gasping. All he could feel was the pain inside his body and the dreadful smell of death that hovered around.

They screamed and bawled at him. Cursing his name in the darkness that hid everything. Boris couldn't help it. He had tried to help them over and over again. But it was useless. Each time he tried, he failed, and they ended up dead. So he shut his ears forcefully, trying to drown the noise, trying to forget the massacre. Trying to find escape. And as the howls drowned to whimpers and the darkness to gloom, Boris felt a tinge of guilt and a surge of relief.

Maybe this time it was finally over.

Then he shrieked. A hand had erupted out of the ground, a bloodied mess of a hand that clung forcefully to his ankles. And even though he tried to deny it, her face appeared out of the ground, staring at him with dead eyes. "Forgive me! Let me go!" Boris garbled through a shivering tongue. But she clenched harder and pulled, dragging him into a swath of bog that swallowed him.

Mud poured in gushes and torrents, as if a dam had broken. It coursed through the hollows of his body, clogging his mouth, cluttering his nose and deafening his ears. It suffocated and terrorized him, until he felt like dying. Then it threw him back upon the ground, where he lay scrunched over and gasping. Unable to live. Unable to die.

And the screams began again.

The nightmare repeated itself eerily, like a broken tape record. Boris had no sense other than to experience it over and over. And when hope seemed hopeless and mercy merciless, the dream changed.

There was the familiar scene again. Boris found himself standing before the monster. Its enormous mass swirled and rippled, sending shockwaves through the air. Long, shifting arms erupted here and there, wreaking havoc throughout. But Boris didn't have any strength to face it, no time to ponder over anything. He struggled desperately, trying to carve a glyph. A glyph he should have known, a glyph he should have understood.

Why did it turn out like this? Why? Where had he gone wrong?

But even as he cursed, he drew and drew, adding runes and symbols to the glyph. People were shouting at him. He didn't care. People were hurling spells around. He didn't care. It was as if that glyph meant everything. As if the world would end if he couldn't complete it.

But he completed it at last. In a moment of brazen luck. Now all he needed was—

Suddenly the world froze.

"Boris, no! No!"

He heard a familiar voice.

It wasn't right.

Pain seared through his chest. Curious, confusing, crushing pain.

It wasn't right.

He coughed a mouthful. Blood splattered over his hands and he looked down in horror.

It wasn't right. There was nothing left.

Something had ripped his chest. Something black that was wriggling about, scattering bits and pieces here and there.

‘Am I dying?’ By the time he realized it, the shock had vanished. He just couldn't feel anymore. The world was turning white. His senses dulled and he found his thoughts fading away. Until finally only one remained.

‘At least the glyph is complete,’ he told himself.

It was all right...

Boris jerked awake like a man out of water. He gasped weakly and looked down in apprehension. He was alive. It was a dream. Just another one. Though he could not remember it well, it had seemed different from before. But he did not ponder over it. It was best to leave such dreams alone.

A rattle of wheels brought him back to the present, jerking his head softly against someone's lap. Boris swallowed the wet bitterness he felt and looked around. Locks of black hair hung around him like a curtain and obscured his view till it fell on the bosom above.

'Who?' The thought had barely made across when a fresh draft brushed the strands of hair upon his face. A familiar scent of olives lingered on. Boris recognized it immediately and struggled to move away. His body curved up, weakened and fell back with a thump.

Elaine glanced down from above, a curious smile upon her face. “You're awake? How are you feeling?”

“Eh? Ah-um, I am- feeling okay?” his mind jumbled to make sense of the situation.

“He is awake, Diana?” she called out.

“Is that so?” Diana replied as she climbed in from somewhere outside. “Good, it is time we made a little stop. I think the next town is Velur, we will leave the caravan there.”

“What, are you doing here?” Boris uttered in surprise at Elaine, then more questions came. “Where am I? And… what happened to the children?” he blurted incoherently.

“One thing at a time,” Elaine replied as Diana climbed in from the rear wagon. “We are inside a caravan. I am traveling with you. I don’t know what children you are talking about and really? Those are the first things you say?” Elaine eyed him with a subtle frown.

“Is- am I alive?” Boris tried guessing what he should have said.

“You can be damned sure you are,” Diana spoke beside him, “and start reflecting on what you did, soon.”

As his vision fell on Diana, things started making more sense. Memories resurfaced and guilt emerged. “The children, Diana, they- they died…

“It was one elven child who died. And while I am moved by your concern, you did something really absurd.”

‘One child?’ Boris remembered differently. “No, there were more. In the cage, crushed…

“They were goblins,” Diana corrected him, “Now get your head out of all that. It was a lesson for you. Learn to deal with reality. I applaud your courage for disobeying me, so you must deal with the consequences it brought.” She eyed the mark on his forehead while she spoke.

Boris swallowed her words bitterly, finding no retort. He felt relaxed but weak. Questions still swirled in his head. Diana shook her head in slight disapproval. “A week you were unconscious kid.”

“That’s… a lot of time,” Boris reflected.

“For an inept who challenged a Berg ogre?” Elaine asked rhetorically, “No it isn't. You jumped at your death, didn’t you?” He felt a jerk of the wagon shift him slightly so his eyes now met Elaine’s directly. There was pause to her glare as she shuffled his head back into position then bent a little, intimidating him.

“I- I was- it just happened. I fell through and then they were trying to kill that- that girl, she is dead now.” Boris felt his cheeks pale. For all his bravado, he shivered at the bloodshed he had witnessed.

“Well, what’s done is done,” Elaine concluded. She pinched his cheeks hard in chastisement. They felt warm enough to touch, a comfortable feeling in winter. She rubbed them again in comfort. “Go to sleep, you need rest.”

Boris flinched a little at the mention of sleep, fearing the nightmare that followed after.

“Ah,” Elaine guessed, “having bad dreams lately?” then proceeded smoothly to say, “Tell me Boris, who is Sophie?”

Boris felt like stake had been driven through him with that. He turned his eyes away, afraid that the greatest of his fears would leak out.

Elaine still dug him with her query but he resisted the urge to speak, and twisted his reply, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Elaine argued back, “unless you babble her name all week in your stupor. Unless you jump to your death over her. Is she dead too?”

His eyes scooted away again.

“Dead I see,” Elaine concluded.

“Yes, she is,” Boris grouched. It irked him to talk of his sister, of how she left him, and what she left him with.

“Why are you getting so angry?” Elaine reflected his anger with displeasure, “Is it not fit that I ask such a question? Are you that afraid of the dead? I doubt you could have killed anybody to be so when, by your own admission, you could barely harm a mosquito.” She did not like seeing Boris grouchy. Sadness did not suit him, mischievousness did. She sighed, “The dead have their place Boris, they do not belong where you hide them. Let them rest and forgive yourself.”

Boris felt a dismissive edge in those words. “And what do you know of death?” he argued.

Diana smacked his head. ‘Apologize,’ was her intent. He glared back and refused to obey.

“I know enough of it,” Elaine replied under the guise of a smile. There was a gaze in her eyes that he found similar to Violet. Similar to his own when he remembered Sophie. Remorse, longing and pain. And he realized Elaine had seen someone die. Someone dear. Someone close. Maybe it wasn't his place to question her. But the way she looked at him it felt like she was looking at a ghost. As if he was the one who had died.

“You have seen an inept die…” Boris guessed wryly, now surprised he had not seen that earlier. “Both you and Violet… and Grey!” Was that why they had been behaving differently from the others?

The plastic smile melted, a hint of surprise flickering while Elaine regained composure. Diana stirred curiously.

“You never told—

“Enough.” Elaine glared, forcing a silence. “Let's end this here, I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

“Oh, is that so?” Boris fumed. “So it's not just the kingdom that has been hiding stuff huh?” His anger turned a shade darker and his will seeped out, eliciting another surprise from Elaine.

Mustering every bit of his strength, Boris forced himself to roll out of Elaine's lap with a heavy heart. Could he not trust even her? He wanted to trust her, to let her know. He wanted her by his side. Maybe it was only him though. Maybe he was as much trouble to Elaine as he had been to the King. Maybe he had been wrong about things.

“Sorry about troubling you then. I will go back to my own business.” He went back to sleep, wallowing in his own thoughts. For a brief moment, the hexagonal glyph flitted through his mind. He wondered if it could shed some light on the summoning, maybe help him find a way back. He missed home more each passing day. 'I'll find a way back,' he assured himself, 'Definitely.'

Elaine looked in cold sweat at the boy who had just made her shudder. “What did he just...”

She looked suspiciously at Diana. “Did you—

“Didn't I tell you?” Diana beamed, “He isn't giftless, just a little handicapped.”

"Perhaps," Elaine blinked unsteadily, "perhaps not."

------------------------

Velur was a town of simple folk. They were about at dawn when the caravan rolled in. It stopped at a stable attached to an inn. They dismounted with their luggage, which Diana had narrowed down to two knapsacks and a small box of supplies. She walked off with Boris in tow. Elaine walked beside him, silent as a statue.

Boris looked back at the extravagant inn. Two floors and a large hall with inviting couches that could sink you in. “It costs a pretty penny, you know,” Diana spoke without looking back, “The caravans do business with that inn, which means more income for both but higher prices for us.” It was something Boris had already realized, but it was still tempting.

They walked up a pebbled road through the town square and out into the row of wooden houses at the end of town. Diana stepped into an inn familiarly, a single floor establishment with a barn out front and a desk just inside the door. Balconies to the side overlooked the barn and a few horses were tied up nearby. They chewed their feed without a worry, neighing softly.

The innkeeper welcomed them with a look of recognition and respect. “Madam Diana, you should have told us you were coming. Your companions? Please, make yourself at home.”

“No need for formalities Tallin, where is Donner?” Diana asked as they laid down their luggage near the desk. The inside was warm with fire and the glowing hearth crackled now and then with satisfaction, striking up embers into the air. Simple lanterns hung from iron hooks, casting faint yellow circles on grey walls.

“Ah, did you come for Donner?" Tallin replied, "I am sorry. He left for Bizeon sometime ago. Wants to try his luck at the larger city, that fool. I can send for him if you want.”

“It’s alright, we are a bit tired. Could you get us some food while we rest?”

The innkeeper led them to a large room with two beds, a couch and a table. He brought in trays filled with porridge and bread. A side of fruits along with it. They ate their fill, Boris quite visibly so, and turned to retire. Following a small rest, Diana brought Boris out into the dining hall, letting Elaine sleep. She had been the most tired of their lot.

The tables were large and empty now. But the curses and scars etched into them foretold that they would turn lively again, come evening. Diana pulled a chair across from Boris, a throgwood piece, and prompted him to sit.

“There now, let me talk about the more important things,” she crossed her arms across her chest as she spoke. Boris accepted, there were questions he had too.

“I am pretty sure you now have a good idea how to use Will, you did just blast it off in the cavern.” Diana started.

“I think I do,” Boris nodded.

“Good, now try to use it on me. Imagine killing me, do it.”

Boris strained to focus on her, trying to let out the killing intent. He let it spill out. A man behind him stopped for a moment of hesitation, turning to eye him. Boris shrugged. Then he drew abruptly back in his chair, feeling Diana’s hand clutched across his throat terrifyingly, and fell with a thud. He shook his head to see Diana seated comfortably, her hands still crossed under her chin.

She smirked mildly, “That, you see, is how you use your Will. You do not broadcast it in the air, you focus it on your target, giving no hint to others. At its best, you can make a man faint without anybody else feeling it.”

“How do I do that?” Boris asked, amazed.

“Well, for a first, learn to control it, to rein it in. Try to feel the Will of others instead of pressing your own, try to make sense of it. This is not something I can teach well, because I learned it instinctively. But it always helps if you try it out on animals and monsters. They are simpler creatures, their Will easier to grasp.”

“Is there something else to it? Something like making it stronger?”

Diana frowned at those words. “Your Will is plenty strong, kid. What you must learn is control. Mark my words in red. Do not get drunk upon your Will, trying to make it stronger and formidable, exerting it everywhere. It is an expression of your desires and emotions. If you let it go berserk, like you did last time, you will turn mad. I have seen my people go crazed beyond any hope of recovery. Always guide it with caution, never let it control you,” she spoke with a stern, sharp tone.

“I will keep that in mind,” Boris gulped, remembering his own case.

“You must,” Diana stressed, “You have been growing volatile and angry, I do not like that. Show respect and courtesy, and never talk to people like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did with Elaine today.” Boris felt a sense of dread as Diana continued, “When you see her next, you will apologize earnestly and thank her. I will not condone arrogance.”

"But she was—

"Did you tell her about your sister's death. No, right?"

Boris was taken aback but Diana merely continued. "There are plenty of people with plenty of secrets and if you reject them merely so, you are doing yourself a great disservice. Elaine may seem suspicious but you just agreed to go with an elf you never met before to a country you have never seen before leaving friends you knew all your life. That's a leap of faith, what's wrong with taking a step more that way?"

“I will,” he bowed his head.

“Good. Now let us leave, we need to get you equipped.”

“I have questions to ask too.”

“Along the way, sure.”

As they made their way along town, Diana briefly explained to Boris what had transpired all this while, satisfying some of his doubts while raising others.

"So they were really goblins, like demon goblins?" Boris asked warily.

"How many times are you going to question me on that? Those were demons known as goblins, with a bloodthirsty and crafty nature. Almost as dangerous in numbers as the Berg ogre that you fought. If you'd found yourself between both, I doubt you'd have lasted any more."

"But then they..." Boris paused. If they were really goblins, then revealing that he could talk to them would make him just as sinister as the King had insinuated.

"No," he corrected himself before Diana could ask any further. "Just making sure. Didn't you say that the Cult had summoned them. So they weren't really at fault? Or is the cult conspiring with demons now?"

“It's not a matter of finding faults. If I throw you to a hungry lion, you will die regardless of whether it's my fault or the lion's... Or yours.” She explained as they turned towards the marketplace. A stink filled to fill the air here, reeking of tanned hides and skinned furs. Boris scrunched his nose and pondered more over Diana's answers.

"Why would they do it? And how, when summoning magic is supposed to be both difficult and closely guarded?" The crowd had begun to thicken around them and Boris struggled to keep pace with Diana. The smell was growing worse, as if the whole town was made of butcher's shops. That wasn't true though, and he thought Diana was leading them to some of the other ones. Or at least hoped so.

"I don’t know kid," Diana swung her head at his question. "But whatever it is, it is not good at all. Not to mention they had fashioned a hideout out of an unmapped labyrinth. I wonder where the other ends lead to? I suppose we will have to leave all this to Durham and pray he scares them enough.”

"To that King huh? That's unsettling, I hope he doesn't involve my friends into this." Boris wished so dearly. He didn't want them coming into contact with crazed psychopaths bent on resurrecting the devil Solomon himself . Regardless of whether or not it was possible. Regardless, even, of whether or not it truly existed.

"Don't worry," Diana assuaged his concerns. "Despite how he looks, Durham is wise enough to know where to employ the heroes and where not to. There are far better ways to deal with the cult."

"Hmm?" It was unusual to hear good of the King, as Boris could only paint him black and dastardly. "That scum of a—

"Hey now, mind your tongue. A single insult in the wrong place could get you executed," Diana hushed him as the crowd turned rowdier.

Boris coughed and turned to the shops around. He wondered how people could be this excited about meat and fur. Maybe because it was winter. Crowds of men rushed through his sight, their zeal almost contagious. A few of them even greeted him in their own curious ways. "May Thiracus pave your way" and some such phrases. Increasingly, Boris found himself attracted to the liveliness around him, forgetting his troubles for respite.

There were of course, moments where he found that the stink had turned nastier.

“It is called stinker’s weed,” Diana had explained, “It grows in winter here, when the soil is left alone. It is a good ingredient for some basic potions, but almost worthless here, abundant beyond need.”

On the whole, it was peaceful enough for Boris to relax, to forget the dream that had turned ominous and dark. It was just a dream, he had reasoned subconsciously.

Was it?

They arrived at a clothing shop and Boris found himself fitted into a buff leather jacket and doubly thick trousers. He looked up in agony at his curious figure. His body had started to tone up, muscles gaining some bulk while his posture straightened. That made him seem confident, but no amount of confidence could help a man in ugly yellow jacket and pink trousers. They were hideous. So he replaced them with fashionably better ones.

After the tour, Boris was blessed with his new inventory. Tougher clothes, a pair of bows with arrows and boots that looked good for their price. Diana also bought him a few other supplies he asked for. She let him have them as “a reward for passing”.

“After this however,” Diana told him, “you must earn your keep. A place to sleep and food to eat, I will not be providing you with any.”

They parted ways on that agreement, Diana to look for her alchemical supplies and Boris towards the request board.

In the city of Orin, there were separate guildhalls for mercenary, merchant and other guilds of both religious orders. Here though, it was a simple circular building with a large red sign overhanging its open doors.

Boris walked in to see a small gathering of people inside. Most of them seemed like merchants, well dressed with ornaments glinting in the light, especially the plump women. Burly, armed guards accompanied some and kept a roaming eye around. And lean, able men walked in between, glancing at the request boards.

The open request board, as it implied, was open to all. Any higher and you needed an identification badge, along with a certain level of reputation to access them. Most requests here were crammed into the open request board. Stacks of handwritten parchment stuck into every inch of space specified the details. The stink even made it to inside the building, although the large open windows helped improve ventilation.

Boris picked one that interested him. ‘Make easy money!! Remove the stinker’s weeds. Fifty pennies for each piece of land. Provision for free food and drinks. No hidden requirements!’ Then it specified the requester’s address and additional details.

Diana had advised him not to indulge in too much physical exertion. His body was still healing and pulling stinker’s weeds seemed like an easy task. Boris plucked the parchment and brought it to the indorser—a fat, heavy man with speckled beard and peppered hair. He received it with thick hands and ran a cursory glance over it.

“First time?” he asked in a dead, formal voice.

“Yes,” Boris answered, trying to gauge the man. He looked like an overworked, overfed, fed up office worker.

“Need a badge made?” the man offered with an unruly tap of his fingers at the desk.

“How much time and what costs?”

“Thirty pennies for beginners and a week minimum to have it made,” the man answered with a slight irritation.

“Then please let me accept it without a badge.”

“Alright. Your name?”

“Boris Debron.”

The man harrumphed as he pulled out a penbrush and scribbled something across the parchment. He grabbed a seal and busted it hard against the desk, leaving a deep imprint on the paper. It looked like a square glyph in red and blue, with inscribed symbols.

“Place your thumb here,” the man pointed at the seal.

Boris extended his hand reluctantly, wary of what his ineptitude might bring. It brought a frown on the indorser’s lips as the glyph flickered and deformed, leaving a sharp prickling sensation on Boris’s thumb. The man leaned over with a scowl and grabbed his hand. Boris was almost ready to flip him when the man dipped his thumb into a dirty pot of ink and pressed it near the deformed seal, leaving smudges on the paper. He finally settled back in satisfaction, tearing the bottom part and giving the rest to Boris.

“Follow the main road right and take the third left from here, then follow the curve to beyond the well and Ruben’s farm. Meet Welkins there. If you need a map, you can buy it outside. Oh, and best you change into your cheapest clothes.” The indorser issued his advice with robotic precision, then ignored him completely, turning to the others.

Welkins turned out to be a likeable fellow. Middle aged, portly and balding with a shifty smile.

“Nice to see young blood chiming in to help us needy folks,” he nodded encouragingly while offering Boris a glass of water and a seat. “Where you come from lad?”

“Far away really, not a place worth mention.”

“Heh, trying out your luck in towns? Stay here and I’ll teach you all you need to know,” the man offered.

“I appreciate it but I cannot accept it,” Boris declined politely.

It was all going fine until Boris saw the “piece” of land. A large field of green, stinking weeds that covered it whole.

“This is a piece of land?” Boris asked in disbelief.

“Of course, what else would you call that?”

Boris grimaced. In his mind, a piece stood for something small. Although technically, a piece could be any size. ‘I should have done some research before taking this up,’ he regretted.

“Is there any chance I can decline this?” Fifty pennies for this was a little less. After accepting a request once, there were few ways out of it. Either both parties were in agreement, or lending the request to another or—

“Fickle like the monsoon, you young men,” Welkins frowned red like a chameleon, “I shall take this up and have you fined!”

“Right, I thought so. I will do this, but not for your threat,” Boris let it go. It was his mistake and he would deal with it.

He squatted towards one end of the field and observed them. The stinker’s weed had blade-like leaves and prominent, brown veins running along it. The stink originated from these veins, making the field smell like a bog of decaying food. Boris drew up his sleeves, scrunched his nose and got to work. Welkins took a chair behind him, looking over.

A few buckets of water were hauled in and poured over the soil nearby, making it damp and easing the smell. Boris shoveled the roots with a small hoe, working into the soil and removing the roots manually. It was dull work and portions of roots would sometimes remain, making Welkins cry out complaints.

Boris felt an angry snub of irritation but held it in, obeying Diana’s advice. By the time he was done pulling half the weeds, he had developed a proper method and started working in reflex. He would haul in a bucket or two, concentrate on a small area and work meticulously, leaving Welkins satisfied.

“So?” Boris restarted the conversation, “What exactly do you do here?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“These were my brother’s lands, now they’re mine. I still have to put them to use, that’s why I am having it cleared.”

‘By one guy less than half your age,’ Boris snarled internally. He knew there was not a lot of money he would earn, so he decided to milk the guy for information instead.

Most of what Welkins knew was mundane knowledge. He barely understood magic, beyond a few cantrips, and had no interest in battles and wars. He was highly interested in why the cattle chewed their cud, though. After receiving a lengthy explanation about the demons of gluttony inside the cattle’s stomachs, Boris was finished with the first piece of land. The sun had turned warmer overhead but the stink was getting harsher. He had stacked the lump of weeds towards one side and turned to face the second and last piece of land, separated by a thin hedge.

Uncharacteristically, he decided to finish the next field too. That would ensure he got his food and drinks, twice over. And he was reluctant to search for another request.

Food and drinks turned out to be loaves of bread and mugs of water. He ate through them in satisfaction, asking for more. He would at least ensure that the penny pincher’s supply of bread ran out, and he was always hungry.

“Only so much food I can give you lad.”

“Oh give up. You think I don’t know you have plenty more. I will work your second field if you feed me well, or you can try your luck at hiring someone who will do your stinky work for fifty stinking pennies.”

Welkins grumbled before coming out with more loaves of bread and a large mug that he thumped at the ground. It spilled white over.

“What’s that?”

“Malted milk. Now hold your promise about the second field.”

When Boris got to work on the second field, after consuming three grown men’s worth of food, he noticed a sparrow come down and perch nearby. He offered it a small portion of the stinker’s roots and it dug in, without hesitation.

A few more birds fluttered in. Two, four, six, until finally it was whole drove of these that had settled around him. They chirped and chirruped, perching on his shoulders, pecking at his hair, climbing up his neck and running a ruckus. They wagged their tales and fluttered nearby, hindering his work.

Thankfully, Welkins had returned to the comfort of his home, preventing a greater ruckus.

“Stop, stop! You are not getting any more of this!” Boris waved his hands around, trying to drive them away. They would flit back and forth, returning every time. Some pecked at his feet, some eyed his face curiously, and most gathered upon his head.

Boris tried to think up ways to drive them away, remembering what Diana said this morning. He took a few calm breaths and tried to feel their Will. It was a soft and warm attachment to him. He was surprised. Apparently, the birds liked him. The way they showed their goodwill, however, was problematic. Boris faced a few of them and tried to communicate. ‘A little help,’ he spilled his Will around slowly as he wished so. The birds turned alert for a moment, staring at him.

He bent over and shoveled, plucking a weed out. Then he picked another as the birds watched, their heads twisting in query. And in a while, some birds dove in. They dug into the ground, beaks grasping at a few roots and pulling them out. Some others dug for worms and rest continued to flock around him but didn’t interfere. Boris felt a happiness overcome him, singing as he went along, uprooting the weeds.

It was finished faster than he expected, and he felt a great deal of satisfaction from the irritating task.

“Finished so fast!” Welkins exclaimed. He approached to see Boris hogged by birds, a few droppings on his clothes, his hair scattered and face dusty.

“I swear I never thought something could be worse than pulling out all this,” Welkins commented, “Do you have a knack for misfortune?”

Boris smiled, “I have a knack for many things.”

“Alright,” Welkins spoke as he toured the field, poking a stick here and there, “It seems to be done in order, nothing missed. Very well, you have completed your task, leave me the request and I will give you your reward.”

“And what of those?” Boris pointed to the large pile of stinker’s weed.

“That,” Welkins lit up a small flame on his fingers, “shall be burnt.”

“I want a small stock of them, wrapped in something if you could?”

Welkins eyed him pitifully, as if he was a beggar asking for leftovers. “You can take them, I will provide some cloth.”

His task done and rewards received, Boris wandered out. People made way for him as he passed, pinching their noses. ‘I need a bath. Now.’

------------------------

Elaine laughed when she located a half-naked Boris singing and washing himself near the well. “What are you doing?” she asked with a forced frown. She had woken up late to find everyone else gone. She wandered around in search and the enquiry led her here.

“Wait, don’t come close. I stink,” Boris cautioned with both palms held upfront. He felt awkward now, remembering what he had done earlier.

“I can see that clearly, where were you?” Elaine retorted while pinching her nose.

"Don't you mean you can smell it?" Boris grimaced, feeling dejected as Elaine retreated. 'Maybe if I had soap or something,' he rued.

//"Ugh, it's all the same. What were you doing really?" Elaine questioned again.

"Earning my keep. Just give me sometime, I'll come out decent, not smelly like-

Boris halted his words to catch the small pouch Elaine had tossed into the air. "Um?" Boris stumbled with the pouch for a while, trying to think.

"It's perfumed mud," Elaine interrupted his confusion, "good for getting rid of smells."

"Oh that's, that's great. Thanks a lot for this uh, um, gift?" He tried to smile nonsensically, hoping to convey gratitude. Inside his mind he was still contemplating what he had just received and why indeed?

"Wait," Boris reconsidered, "Does this mean that you too—

"Hm?" Elaine gave him her usual dreadful stare, almost ready to pull his ear.

"Ah, no, nothing at all, haha, thanks a lot again. Really, I don't know how I would, like, do without this, haha."

Elaine smiled. It was a heartfelt smile and he could almost feel her relief. It made Boris question why he had ever doubted her. She was perhaps the most honest person he had met in this world, one who cared and showed it. His heart grew queasy with that one smile and Boris mustered his courage, stuttering over a few times. "I am sorry, Elaine. I was wrong."

"Are you?" she replied with the same smile, "Don't be."

He discovered a strong urge to hug her then and there, but he was half naked and she was fully armed. It wouldn't have ended well. So he let the urge pass, regrettably, and went back to dressing up while Elaine waited a while away.

"Well, are you done?"

"Yes. How do I look?" Boris tried to show off the newest set of clothes he had bought with Diana.

"Hm? Isn't this how you always look?" Elaine raised an eyebrow playfully.

"That's cruel. I even went all out in choosing something that would make look eye-catching." And truly, Boris found a number of stares pointed their way. They only looked at Eliane though, or glanced his way briefly with a look of disdain. Could it be? Did the people here have no sense of fashion? Boris pitied them with a sorrowful expression.

"Alright, alright, don't make that face on me. You look fine, not better or worse. And that's an honest opinion."

"That's all? I wonder where I went wrong." Boris scratched his forehead. "Maybe I should have gone with that yellow jacket and pink trousers after all."

Elaine laughed abruptly, "Yellow jacket and pink trousers, what's that? Haha, I can't even imagine that. What did you wear them with, a clown's hat?" She tapped his shoulders repeatedly in some kind of mock encouragement.

"H-hey now," Boris stopped her, slightly conflicted. One one hand he really liked seeing her like this, on the other, he did not like her making fun of him. "I-if you don't like my choices, why don't you help me buy clothes the next time we are out." His face was sweating a little when he made that suggestion.

"Hmm, I will consider doing it if you get off Diana's tail." Elaine tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Eh? What's that mean?" Boris asked surprisedly.

"It means what it means," Elaine replied as she shrugged.

"What the heck? I don't get it!" Boris exclaimed. His stomach exclaimed louder, rumbling like low thunder creeping across the sky.

Elaine laughed broadly at that. "It doesn't look like you can think on an empty stomach. How about it," she offered with a wave of her hand, "want to eat with me?" She paused then, eyeing his uncertainty, and chuckled again. "Don't worry. I'll pay."

Boris followed her with his head hung in agony. 'Am I that easy to read? And that cheap too?' Setting his pride aside however, it was clear he was hungry. And while hunger needed satisfaction, pride did not. Besides, he didn't want to miss a chance like this. Cheap or not.

Despite trying to be modest, Boris could hardly contain himself when it came to eating. Recently, it had started feeling as if he had a bottomless pit in his stomach, that no matter how much he ate, he would never be satisfied. 'Ugh, I wonder if I will be able to go on like this. I don't seem to have enough money to even feed myself,' he pondered gravely.

"As I said," Elaine emphasized before him, "you can order more if you want. The food here isn't that costly." She wiped her face with a small cloth and tried to beckon a servant. A flurry of servants moved behind her and some patrons still kept looking at her discreetly.

"No, no." Boris stopped Elaine and finished himself off by taking a big gulp of water. "I am satisfied. I was just thinking is all." He peered between her and the hall, waving both hands in denial and making sure no servant was coming anymore.

"Are you sure?" Elaine asked with a slight disbelief. The way her lips curled made it feel truly honest and Boris lamented the kind of impression he had been making, of a ravenous hyena.

"Rather, are you alright with paying for me?" He asked, "I am hardly one to complain but I seem to be eating a lot these days. And I don't think I can pay you back anytime soon." The bill had already run into a couple pounds and Boris could not afford to pay it at all.

"It doesn't matter," Elaine hushed, "You are a companion of the heroes and it is very well your right to demand preferential treatment. A right that you stupidly surrendered, but a right nonetheless. Really, I wonder what made you decide that?"

Despite the honest way she had put it, Elaine's words pricked Boris. Was he no more than this in her eyes? Did she still not understand why he left, when he was merely a thorn waiting to be pruned? But he didn't want to be rude to her.

"Thank you for spending time with me," he replied with a smile. His voice turned a little stiff, a change he barely noticed. "And thank you for everything you have done for me. Instead of doubting your kindness, I understand it is better to show you gratefulness. I trust you Elaine, and I'll trust you enough to wait until you decide to tell me what I want to know. And even if you don't, I won't ask about it." He stared into her wholeheartedly, trying to come across as truthful.

"A-and so," Boris stuttered yet again, losing a part of himself into those imperceptibly deep irises. "And so someday sure, I will tell you too. But not today, I can't. Trust me. I have too many things on my mind to even tell myself. But of this I am sure. I don't regret my decision, and I doubt I ever will."

Elaine pinched his nose hard right after that and he started waving in pain, crying, "It hurts! What the heck! Even though I was so honest!"

"No, that is why, this doesn't look right at all." Elaine pulled his cheeks rather experimentally. "Are you really Boris? Or did Diana replace you while I wasn't looking?"

"How is that even possible? Didn't I just tell you to trust me?" Boris waved about frantically, pulling his cheeks out of her grip.

Elaine enjoyed herself for a moment before she found the whole establishment staring at them in amusement, as if they were enacting a two person skit. "Ah, please excuse me," she bowed slightly before turning to drag Boris along. They made a soft exit after paying for the meal and turned outside.

It was the last leg of dusk in Velur. Most shops had closed and the chill was growing, blowing in with small, uncomfortable gusts of wind. Boris walked alongside Elaine, his eyes wandering across the red horizon soon to disappear. Shades of grey had started to sprout around it but the clouds still wore outlines of pink and dirty orange. The dim light made for a curious picture as it receded from the houses and yards, outlining shapes in the silence of winter. It was a silence Boris loved but felt afraid of. And he prayed it would remain peaceful.

"So?" Elaine turned to face him slightly, the light creating a fringe of rainbow as her hair danced in the wind. "As far as I get it, there is some reason behind why you decided to jump out the castle and into Diana's lap to follow her to an alien land and embrace death along the way? And you might tell me that reason sometime between now and when we part, depending on your whims? And you don't want me poking into your secrets or trying to help you back to the castle?"

"Well, the way you put it is harsh," Boris answered while hugging himself to ward off the cold. "But yeah, that's about it. There are some things I want to think upon before I answer you, some things I am reluctant to share right now."

"Even Sophie?" Elaine asked without hesitation.

"Especially Sophie," Boris sighed deeply. It was something even his friends did not know well enough.

"You know, it's not like I would be shocked if you revealed you had an amorous affair with some old woman and then she broke your heart. Secrets make women beautiful but they turn men untrustworthy and boys unruly."

"Is it just me or are you getting even harsher than ever?" Boris cringed. "And that last part was clearly biased, wasn't it? What do you take me for?"

"As of now? A stupid, reckless, thoughtless, fool of an inept. Also untrustworthy and cowardly."

"Well alright, but I can't tell you," Boris uttered back.

"And yet Diana knows doesn't she?" Elaine had only meant that as a joke but Boris replied honestly. It annoyed her.

"Yes, she knows," he stated as if it were a matter of fact. As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You trust her, don't you?" There was a hint of sarcasm in Elaine's voice that Boris didn't miss. "A companion of heroes just abandoned them to go with an elf, an elf whom he barely knows, and yet you won't even tell me something like—

"And see, that's difference between you and Diana," Boris cut her placidly. The way she reminded him of his position made him edgy. Why was it? Why couldn't she see?

"Pray tell me," Elaine's voice suddenly turned dark and scathing. He felt it like a blade's edge upon his throat. "What is it? What is that difference?" She still smiled but it was the same semblance of a smile Boris had seen again and again. He felt her will, an anger that he found irrational. But then, wasn't anger supposed to be irrational?

"She doesn't see me for what I lack, Elaine," Boris spoke softly, trying not to enrage her any more. "She sees me for what I am."

"And that means?" Her voice grew scarier.

"In her eyes, I am someone who has both faults and merits, that's how I feel. She doesn't treat me as a weakling or an annoyance. But in your eyes and those of others, what am I?" He looked down at her with a sore smile. It made Elaine clench her fist.

"I am just an inept to you, aren't I?" Boris spoke in a low, invasive tone, "You all define me by my ineptitude, my weakness, my incapability. I am but a weight to the heroes in most eyes. A threat. A liability."

"Are you finished?" Elaine asked. Boris felt her will expand out like a dark, ominous cloud. He wondered why he did not fear it as much. Was it because he had faced death too closely? Or was it because his own will was strong enough? It didn't matter. He had lost either way. He just wanted to let her know but he ended up making her mad.

"Is that how you think of us? Of Violet who tirelessly tried to heal you every time you got wrecked? Of people who didn't want you to leave the castle for dangerous places? Is that how you take everything? You think everyone looks down on you in deprecation?"

"No," he shook his head, "I didn't mean—

"Well you certainly put it that way," Elaine asserted. "And you just deprecated everyone by doing so."

"No, just—

"Don't play with words Boris. I can't for the whole world figure out what you want."

"Just, let me do it my way, Elaine. I may be an idiot but even I want to learn to survive. I need to grow, to find a way back, and just getting somebody's help won't cut it." He tried putting it as clearly as possible but his mind was turning into a mess.

"Alright," Elaine said, "have it your way. You seem to like that, don't you?" She walked off without a glance or another word.

Boris bent down on the road and held his head in both hands. Had he not just prayed for peace? Why was his prayer squashed so soon? He waited a while, till the streets were almost empty and he was sure he wouldn't meet Elaine along the way, before making his way back to the inn. He did not know that Elaine herself had taken a long, winding path to the inn and that it was only a trick of fate that he missed her still.

“How much for a room?” he asked Tallin.

“What sort of room?”

“All sorts.”

“Ninety pennies for a wooden one bed, one day, nothing added. A hundred and twenty if you add a fireplace. A hundred and thirty if you need a quilt and forty additional for two meals.”

Boris looked into his little pouch, pitying the hundred pennies there. “Any chance of discounts?” he asked hopefully. He wanted some savings to last.

“I do not haggle.” Tallin was much less helpful when Diana wasn’t present.

“What do you charge for the barn?” Boris finally relented.

“Excuse me?”

“The barn, will you let me sleep there?”

“Ah, the barn,” the innkeeper paused in thought, “You help me stack up the hay and feed the horses and you can use it for free.”

Boris nodded and went to the barn. Cold was not much of a friend but it wasn’t much of an enemy either. The innkeeper came with a few old quilts and threw them at him. “Use them. I don’t want people dying here.”

------------------------

When night came Elaine found herself alone with Diana in the spacious room. Seeing no signs of Boris' return she cast a skeptical gaze at Diana who was all but ready to drift off to sleep.

"I don't see Boris?" Elaine said.

“Did you look in the barn?” Diana replied dryly.

"Huh?" For a moment Elaine thought it was a joke, then she peered outside to find Boris rolled up in some tattered quilts upon a haystack. “You're insane,” she told Diana frankly. “This is winter. He is just a kid.”

“He is old enough by human standards.”

“Don't talk to me of human standards.”

“You should realize it already, woman,” Diana preached Elaine, “He is not Abel. And he will never be. It is you who should let the dead rest. And let the ghosts lie.”

Elaine found no retort and swallowed bitterly. She stole a brief glance at Boris and returned to her bed. Maybe Diana was right. But she would never admit it. “Did you give him the quilts?” she asked instead.

“Who knows,” Diana answered even as she looked outside. The night reflected a soft shine to her otherwise bestial eyes.

------------------------

**

In commemoration of my fourth review! (Have any of you read that, please read this too)

First, kudos VesperOz (you know why). Above six verses are your treat (and your spoiler..) Muhaha

Second, and this is important. The next few sequences I have planned are kind of clashing and creating confusion for me. I am especially facing difficulty in thinking up a geography, a map. If any one can direct me to helpful links/posts for this, please do.

Third, about the latest review. I will not go into details but three points caught my attention.

1- "After this our “heroes” are treated like shit by just about everyone (they were treated like crap from the start) "

2- "Instead they never ask any questions, they never change anything. Everything is dictated to these “heroes” and they go along meek as lambs..."

3- Boris is "perverted and probably unattractive."

I want to ask if you really think that (honestly), because it means a failure in my storytelling and I would need a strong revamp of chaps to correct this.

Lastly, to Lunitan, while I understand your point, you do not say this Quote:TL;DR: Full of Japanese tropes, not original at all. Okay writing, horrible characters. Don’t read.

when you have read "a couple of chapters" (especially when you are weaving in lies and slander cleverly)

That's all. Enjoy and leave your comments ^^