Chapter 66

Meaning of Outlander

“I fear it all; it is that dread that drives me, keeps me running, afloat. The day I stop fearing them, is the day they find me.”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. X

Asandra sat to the side and watched three slaves kneeling on the wooden floor, appearing restless, with a tall, stalwart figure draped in a loose robe looming over them, examining them in silence. The silent treatment has been going on for the past five minutes, ever since they entered. Even the seductress seemed averse to meeting his gaze, and Asandra well-understood as to why. The imposing nature of his wasn’t something that even people of Noble upbringing would handle well, let alone those who were never taught the countenance.

One day left – tomorrow, the Princess would depart. And, as far as Asandra knew, Noah would too, and that would mean she would as well. She didn’t think he trusted the young Princess enough to let her go through with this insane plan all on her own, especially so because of the weighing circumstances that would follow – meaning that the others would begin joining soon after.

“Reya," Noah spoke, at last, addressing the woman dressed scantly who flinched upon the mention of her name. "How confident are you in prying the tight lips open?"

“… depends on whose.” The woman replied, taking a deep breath.

“Say… that lad Ferimir Io.”

“… the merchant’s slob?”

“That one.”

“I imagine even a pig could pry his lips open,” Reya shrugged, seeming somewhat offended. “Why?”

“It’s simple,” Noah flashed her a strange smile, crouching down to her eye-level. “Whisper the sweetness into his ears and convince him to donate at least a thousand Crowns to the Princess’s campaign.” What has that got to do with prying the lips open!? Asandra rolled her eyes, though saying nothing, merely nibbling away at the red-grapes.

“… how much time do I have?” she asked after a short deliberation.

“Two days,” Noah said. “I’ll give you an opportunity to meet him.”

“If I fail?”

“Ensure your motives aren’t found out,” he replied. “And report back to Myrell.”

“… I’ll try.” She said, biting her lower lip. It wasn’t impossible, per se. But it would certainly be challenging. While Ferimir was as loose-lipped as they come, his satchel wasn’t quite like that.

“Don’t push too hard,” he said. “Give him a nudge or two, and if he isn’t budging, retreat. No need to risk your head, alright?”

“… yes.”

“Fylcon, you and Row will be coming with me tomorrow, to the Brightfloods,” Ah, so we are going… Asandra mused while the young boy flinched. “You won’t be going all the way, though; you’ll be stationed in the midway port town, and will be responsible for relaying both the messages and the goods as quickly as possible. Less terrified yet?” Noah flashed him a grin as he walked back to Asandra, taking up a bottle of ale and pouring himself a cup. “You’ll be responsible for Olivia over there,” he turned to Asandra and spoke out. “It’s fine if she gets bruised a couple of times, preferable even. But no life-threatening shenanigans.”

“… what about you?” Asandra asked with an arched brow.

“I got that mountain over there,” he pointed at Row who seemed too preoccupied with studying something on the floor to register him. “And, besides, who’s going to focus on the old, limp Dacent next to the Princess herself?”

“… you’re really good at selling yourself short,” Asandra snorted. If there was one person the least likely to die on their outing, it was him and him alone. “But babying the Princess hardly sounds like a fun task.”

“… it might not be fun, but it will be busy.” Noah said.

“Busy? Didn’t you say she wouldn’t have to actually fight the Kindled?”

"Who said anything about the Kindled?" Noah shrugged, sitting down. "I expect quite a few attempts at her life on your way over. I don't expect anything to happen once we arrive, but anything is possible. I’ll really get to test the sharpness of your blade.”

“… they’d resort to that?” Asandra question, frowning.

“Of course they will,” Noah chuckled bitterly. “With a single, a few minutes long speech, she undid years of effort on her siblings’ part. Whether they think she has any aspirations for the throne or not is really irrelevant; even if she doesn’t, she would have the commonmen and women on her side, effectively making her a secondary ruler to the actual successor. The attempts won’t be the open sort; I imagine there will all look like accidents of some sort. That’s why you can go out and recruit three-four people you trust to accompany you. I’ll also be watching from the side, but unless a literal worst-case scenario occurs, I won’t be stepping in within any margin. It’ll all be up to you.”

“… won’t the King prevent it, though?” Asandra asked further, sighing. “If you suspect it, he then probably knows it.”

"Prevent it how?" Noah asked, glancing at her. "Any intervention on his part would be seen as playing favorites and taking sides. It won't matter that his intentions weren't such, but if the public, be that the commoners or the Nobles were to hear the King making claims on the Princess's safety, I wager that half the bought, bribed and acquired support of the other children would vanish overnight. He did us a favor by not stepping in and stopping our parade."

“… is it alright for you to depart with her? You haven’t set up anything here.”

"Myrell, Sash, and Evel are setting it up,” Noah shrugged. “I’ve almost relayed all the operations to them; I’ll simply be making a few visits tonight to ensure the word spreads, and that some rich get in on the action.”

“… you trust your slaves an awful lot.”

“It’s not them, but my teachings,” Noah smiled, looking at her. “And, in my humble opinion, no soul can go wrong with employing my teachings.”

“Ah, yes, a humble opinion…”

“… I feel hurt over your doubts.”

“Hurt away, then…”

The chambers fell silent, as none of the three still kneeling knew whether they were supposed to leave or stay. On the other hand, Asandra quietly began planning her own tasks on the journey over. If his words were to be believed, she would get little sleep in the next few weeks and months, and a lot of bruises from pushing the Princess out of the danger.

He was testing her, that much she understood, implicitly saying that if she can’t save the Princess from attempts at her life that would all look like accidents, she wouldn’t be able to do much for him. It has been many-a-year since someone asked her to prove herself, and since someone doubted her. A part of her felt angry, but rather than voicing it, she chose to accept his challenge. In a way, she found it somewhat fun; her life had turned into a drab repetition where she found little challenge in her everyday duties… all until she saw that cleanly sliced neck. Since then, she felt the fire inside of her rekindle, the everyday monotony break. And now, the one thing she had absolute confidence in… was challenged.

“You three go and report to Myrell,” Noah said at last. “And have her start teaching you.”

Rather than questioning what, the three bowed deeply, with Row following the example of the other two, before leaving the room, leaving Noah and Asandra sitting in silence.

"… are you really an Outlander?" she asked, at last, the question that was burning in her mind since yesterday. He took a casual sip and glanced at her, that same smile still hanging like a portrait on the clean walls.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does,” she said. “Have you still not realized the meaning of the Outlander?”

“… frankly? No,” Noah replied. “Aren’t there hundreds of Outlanders docking yearly at the Port?” he finally asked the question that confused him the most – what made him so different than them.

“They aren’t Outlanders,” Asandra shook her head. "We know where they hail from, just fear to speak about it. They give us maps, you know? You will never find them, be it that you bleed or die for them, but they do exist. And on those maps, they point to the land of their birth. I’d put down a wage, however,” she added. “You wouldn’t be able to.” Well, duh… this, however, didn't tell him anything. Did it mean that all other, previous Outlanders were, actually, outworlders? Just like him?

“So… what is the meaning of an Outlander?” he asked.

“… depending on who you ask,” she replied. “You would either be the world’s penultimate evil… or good. There are groups within this very city worshiping the Outlanders rather than the Light, you know? You, technically, have your own religion.”

“…” At least I know they didn’t come from Earth, Noah mused inwardly. “You don’t sound a fan, I must say.”

“… I’m not,” she said. “Every time an Outlander braced these lands… they changed. And it was never for good.”

“… never?” Noah arched his brow. “What about the unification of the barbarian nations into one, beautiful, peaceful, loving Kingdom?”

“… I hope you’ll be better than them.” Rather than replying to his probe, she said a few simple words with a mysterious smile.

“… there’s one difference between them and me. And a pretty big one at that.”

“What? That you aren’t nearly as cruel as we believe you are?” she scoffed.

“Well, that, yeah, but it’s not the biggest,” Noah flashed her a smile. “I doubt any other Outlander had the moral crusader with her sword at a ready, sitting by their asses all day long, examining their every move.”

“… why do I feel both insulted and praised at the same time?” she chuckled, finishing her drink and getting up, stretching. “I’m going to practice some swings. Want to join me?”

“Swing away,” he raised his cup and ushered her off with a smile. “Long months ahead await. Better be readier than ever before.”