--04 Sans Raesyn, 1404--

“We need to get him inside! Use this rag to help slow the bleeding. By the Seven, we have to hurry!” Daylight was just starting to sink behind the flowering trees of the Somnerveil as the shrill tone of a young man’s voice pierced Karmine’s head as he forcibly—painfully—opened his eyes at the deafening sound. Everything was blurry… and red—so much red.

“Will you shut your Light-damned blasphem…“ barely finishing his words before slipping back into unconsciousness.

The bright light of the late morning burned Karmine’s retinas when he finally stirred, letting loose an unenthusiastic groan as he tried—and failed—to collect himself. His vision was still blurry, as if someone had smeared oil across his eyes. Lights blinded him and flickered like stars imprisoned in Ellisandere’s night skies. Their points and edges spiking and dulling in tandem, while translucent globules of different colors dotted his gaze and floated like spirit orbs. His head, his head felt like it had been split in half, a constant pulsing as if he was wearing a too-tight headband.

Karmine ran his burly, sausage-like fingers through the mess of his salt-and-pepper mane, dislodging a leafed twig that fell limply to the wood floor. ‘Wood floor?’ The thick black strands clung together, cracking as they were forced to part, dense and matted from dirt, sweat, and what he could only assume was blood, be it his own or someone—something—else’s. His memory of the events that put him in this state trickled back to him in pieces like he was trying to solve an infinitely growing jigsaw puzzle. Several streams of liquid wriggled down his hand like a family of worms. ‘Could’ve been worse,’ he grimaced. The pulsing in his head increasing tenfold, with the repetitive pounding of a smith’s hammer on anvil.

He clenched his jaw, muscling through the headache, and sandwiched the bangs between his fingers, tracing the source to the wound. His hazy vision started clearing, revealing candles and various orbs of Magelight filling the corners of his tiny room. He was inside, and the bed he rested on moaned in response to his realization of this oddity.

“Why… am I…. How did… I…” He struggled to get up and felt a light pressure on his shoulder, gently forcing him back down.

“Easy there, Commander, sir.”

“How-how, do you know me,” Karmine gargled, his tongue finding it hard to form the simplest of words. The lack of energy he had made lifting up his head feel like he was pinned under a barrel of grog, and ultimately retired that notion.

A young man stood over him. He had a narrow jaw that came to a squared point and a boyish face. He looked about seventeen and was just starting to grow his first beard. Behind him, leaning against the doorframe to the room, stood a girl about the same height as his caretaker. Her skin the color of milk and coffee.

“Why am I here? Where is my troop?” Karmine’s words sounded lazy as they tripped over themselves in a slurry—his throat dry and cracked. The girl strolled over to him, quite gracefully. She was muscled, but she wore her strength quite well and reflected the look of an experienced duelist.

“Is there anything you can do for him, you know with your…” the rest of her whispered words lost to the ringing in Karmine’s ears.

As if she had just insulted the Light, her words ignited a heated conversation between the two of them, the man gesturing wildly with his hands and brown bangs swinging vivaciously; the woman cross-armed, spoke stiffly, mirroring the stern gaze reflecting in her glossy, green eyes. The cacophony of whispers and secrets only served to fluster the lad, who’s almond skin was turning various shades of pink and red from frustration or embarrassment. Karmine couldn’t tell which, but he did know this childish display only served to irritate him further.

“Where are my men?” The two were engrossed in their argument. “Why am I here?” His question falling on deaf ears. “Will you two stop acting like children?” He growled abruptly, punctuating every syllable, striking the words like a sledgehammer on grounding spikes. The two froze and looked at each other, and then the ground, looking like children facing the consequences of breaking an expensive ornament.

She continued nudging the boy to approach him, and after an extended pause, the young man let loose a heavy sigh conceding to the woman’s persistent urgings. Slumped shoulders and defeated, he walked back over to Karmine, his feet dragging across the wooden floor.

“Your unit was ambushed by a Sylvan-Walker. Several members of your party are either missing or dead. We, Desiree and I,” the boy motioned to the woman who stood triumphantly, albeit sympathetic, next to him, “found you alone and unconscious, left for dead. We brought you here to our cabin until we can discern any other information about you and your encounter.”

“A Sylvan-walker?! This far Southeast? Impossible,” Karmine harumphed and rose fiercely, planning to storm off and check for himself. His sporadic movements ultimately resulting in him keeling over and clutching at his side. The muscles and skin of his wounds tearing open, his linen undershirt swiftly turning a dark shade of red.

His whole body felt broken like he had been used as a child’s club. His legs were stiff, and he could feel bones shifting in places they shouldn’t be, any time he moved—the ferocity of his movement to stand additionally rupturing the wound on his head. The blood thickened and flowed like a broken dam, further shielding his right eye as if he was looking through a thick, crimson lens. He felt himself falling again and losing consciousness.

‘Too much, too soon.’ He forced himself to pick his head up. The girl, ‘Desiree,’ glanced at the young man across from him, a look of pleading desperation tightening her features. In a beat, the young man was next to Karmine, a white light glowing from his hand.

“What’s going?! What are you doing?!” The young man reached up to the top of Karmine’s head and placed his palm on the commander’s forehead, who reared at his touch. “Get off of me!”He howled, his booming voice rivaling the winds of the Southeastern Storms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It won’t take long, please just bear with me. I’m so sorry,” The young man rested his hand on Karmine’s chest and whispered. “A’varys Ularyn Ylni,” The warm blue color of his eyes, fading to scarlet.

A cooling sensation enveloped Karmine, as if he was surrounded by a veil of pure water and air. Goosebumps rose on his arms, sending shivers up his spine. He felt a pull and tug at his gaping wounds like a surgeon was stitching them together. His head and side, burning white-hot as the light from the young man’s hand, seemingly sown together and cauterized the wounds. Karmine gritted his teeth, feeling them crack. His jaw stiffening. He would get through this. He had been stabbed, shot, bludgeoned, whipped, but this was a new pain. One he had never felt before, one he hoped he would never have to feel again.

The entire time the young man looked onwards, unphased by Karmine’s discontent as if the boy was laboring away at some trivial task. ‘Arrogant prick, but at least he’s got talent.’ Karmine grimaced through the mending of bone and flesh and the stinging brought on from the mysterious light. When the light and pain faded, Karmine was left with numbness. He rubbed at his side, expecting something, a scar, a gap, anything—though he wasn’t sure what. When feeling returned, he felt the same cold, tingling sensation before returning to his body, like being doused with a tub of ice water.

“How-how did you do that? What was that? What did you do?”

The boy fell back, openly exhausted—the color drained from his face and his legs quivering. The boy’s eyes returned to the blue color of their origin while rivers of sweat dampened his cinnamon bangs to his forehead as if he had just submerged himself underwater.

“I’m, I’m sorry,” He said, pushing through a disturbing shortness of breath. “I should- I should have asked. I didn’t mean to cause you any discomfort.” The boy’s breathing was pained and labored as if some unseen force was smothering his chest and lungs.

Karmine stared on, mouth agape in disbelief. He was no stranger to the workings of mages. He commanded a whole fleet of them before, but this was no magic like he had seen. His mages required components and herbs, long wordy chants, and the patients rarely showed any signs of immediate recovery. Most of the time, they needed to remain bed-ridden for several days to finish healing. Karmine, though, felt he could get up and go about his business without any significant issues, well except for exhaustion. In fact, he actually felt… healthier and more energetic? The boy had only been at it for minutes, with what should have taken him hours. ‘How is that even possible?’

Karmine was dumbfounded. He paused for a moment, coming up with a strategy to grasp hold of this talent. ‘I could use him, even if only as a healer.’ He grunted in frustration and then let loose a heavy sigh, relieving the remaining tension he had unwittingly built up in his shoulders.

“I apologize for my demeanor. It has been a while since I associated myself with someone outside of my usual circle,” Karmine made a fist and placed it over his heart, lowering his head in admonishment. It was the best the soldier could muster, sitting in a lopsided bed. “Thank you for your hospitality, Master…” He stretched out his words baiting the boy into facilitating introductions.

“My name is Vasilios, but Vas will be fine.”

“Thank you, Master Vasilios. I am Karmine Frost, Commander of the Imperial Legion’s 4th Division,” He paused, expecting a reaction or a look of cool recognition. None came. An awkward pause filled the space between him and the boy as Desiree looked onwards. Karmine exhaled and rolled his eyes, deciding to push further. “Vasilios, that is a Valish name, no?”

“Vas… just Vas,” and then the boy nodded his head cautiously. “Yes, it's Valish,” He continued avoiding Karmine’s stare; the boy was purposely leaving out information. Karmine would not tolerate that. He had to know more about this specimen, especially if he wanted to make use of his talents, though, few they may be.

“And your lord’s name? That way, I can pay my due respect to the father or caretaker of the young man who saved my life, should we ever cross paths,” He gave the boy a stiff smile and a stern look, trying to see if he could peer into his mind and siphon out the information he desired.

After several minutes the mage finally spoke, though the commander had to lean forward to hear the boy’s whispers. “…Bouras. Vasilios Bouras.” Dawn of understanding clicked in Karmine’s mind as if the pieces of the puzzle had finally been set in place.

“Bouras? As in the Lambros-Bouras Mercantile Alliance?” The boy looked perplexed and confused as if he wasn’t sure just how to respond. After a pause and deafening silence, Vas nodded slowly, although he distorted his features into a look of disgust that was quite brazen on the youth’s face.

“In Poluranis?” Karmine followed up finally. The boy nodded again, remaining silent as he turned away from the topic.

“Desiree, I think it best if we set an extra place around the table tonight,” Vas said, trying to steer away from the topic. “She has this amazing stew she makes using river prawns and peppers. It is truly quite delectable.”

The commander stared at him in disbelief Poluranis was over a hundred leagues from the Autumnveil. “You’re a long way from home, lad.” Karmine regarded. Although he could only see the boy’s back, he sensed he was rolling his eyes and not at all amused with the statement.

“It’s not my home, Commander, and it hasn’t been for the past six months.” His voice had a grim undertone to it as if mumbling the darkest of curses. Then he sighed, turning his head in the opposite direction, shielding himself from the view of the world. “Though sometimes I truly wonder if it ever was.”

Vas’s words hung stagnant in the quiet abode, embodied by the sullenness of his spoken tone. Karmine assumed he wasn’t supposed to have been able to hear it and turned his attention to the pair’s home… for lack of a better word.

The cabin was in severe disrepair though not unlivable. Piles of wood dotted the interior broken beams, barrels, and crudely snapped, and termite-eaten planks lay scattered about, while his hosts both looked ragged and travelworn. Dark coon-like circles bagged under their heavy eyes, while holes and frayed edges decorated their garments like the bells and bows on The Feast of Lacilla. Clods of dirt and mud decorated their skin and clothing. ‘Such appalling squalor, they must have been on the road for quite some time now.‘

Frost found himself wanting to press for more information regarding their situation, but ultimately figured it was best to leave it alone. He got up to go, though his legs and balance reminded him of when he stood on ship decks. “Well, then. I should move on. I need to find my missing comrades before I return to the outpost. Thank you for all you did for me.”

“Ah, but Commander,” came the haughty voice of the woman. “It is getting late, non? Please stay with us for the night,” she made an earnest move to block him, but her movement was stilled by a look from Vasilios as if they were unsure how to approach or address Karmine. “You need rest, Commander. We can head out in the morning and find them together.”

Karmine hovered at the doorframe, tapping at the barrier with his burly fingers, feeling the chipped wood and the rough, uneven grain beneath his callouses. Eyeing the dirt and grime beneath his own fingernails, he paused, dancing between his options. He was just like them once. No home, no purpose. It was by the Light’s own blind luck Karmine had stumbled across an opportunity to join up with a band of privateers and afterward, a chance to explore the other options the Imperial Legion had to offer. He couldn’t just leave them be, could he?

‘Then again, they would also be liabilities. They’re runaways. Probably minimal to no formal training. Though the boy shows promise with his skill in the healing arts… and his background.’ He let out an audible sigh as he tilted his head back into his shoulders, eyes pressed tightly shut as if doing so could help him visualize and focus his thoughts, his mind weary from the lad’s healing and the weight of his own indecision and experiences.

He felt their eyes on his back like vultures. They expected an answer or at least some form of acknowledgment, and Karmine knew he should rest. He was in no shape to look for his men, but he also knew that valuable time lost could also mean the death of whatever men were left. He peered out the window. Dawn was a long way off still, and the snowy peak of Mont Choteau Lafairre’s shadow towered above the Autumnveil like a monolith amidst the vast, endless sea of the deep violet color of the late-night sky, taunting him—calling to him. He wouldn’t even know where to begin. How far had the couple brought him from where he was found, and how long would it take to return to that spot?

“If even possible,” He grumbled.

“Monsieur Commander?” The woman’s voice was light and etched with discomfort and uncertainty. “The woods are uh…” she paused, trying to find the right words. Karmine assumed she was new, or at least out of practice, with the Common tongue. “They are tres dangereux at night,” she said with a boon of confidence.

“Aye, that much I can be certain of,” The commander said, turning away from the door. “Then, at first light, I will set out,” emphasizing his intentional steadfast solitude. He eyed the two scrupulously, daring them to challenge his intentions, but none came.

As if the last string of whatever had held him aloft had been snipped, Karmine’s energy drained. He felt light-headed and grabbed onto the doorframe as his legs buckled, stumbling. Desiree moved to support him, sliding under his arms, to act as a crutch. She looped her left arm over his shoulder, and together she and Vasilios walked him to a spare room towards the cabin's rear. The room didn’t offer much space, but it would suffice for the purpose mandated.

Later that evening, when Karmine finally found the energy to move around, and despite his hosts' urgings, he left the room he had been set up in. He hated feeling unproductive. Laying in bed waiting to recover was not his ideal past time. He was a man of action and urgency, not some feeble old crone awaiting The Reckoning.

He found his way to what he could only guess was the sitting room and made himself comfortable on a nearby floor pillow. The room smelled of smoke, brine, and fish. Across from him, the boy sat sullenly, lost in his own thoughts, unaware that Karmine had entered or rather hadn’t cared. Karmine wasn’t too certain of which. A firepit rested in the middle of the room, a burning canyon between them, its heat and flames kept in check by the boy’s constant prodding with the poker and shuffling of coals and logs. Dramatic shadows leaped and played across the walls with each popping of the fire, carving out the boy's sunken cheeks and the angular face of his bookish physique. His bangs hanging lifelessly over his ice-blue eyes. The smoke from the fire drifted upwards, spiraling, entwining, dancing with itself, before escaping through the square vent overhead. The room's shifting light and it’s rafters stretching across the ceiling reminded Karmine of his days below deck, though without all the unbalance and nausea. Maybe he could finally get some of the answers to his questions now.

“Thank you for all you did for me,” Karmine finally managed to say after what felt like hours of silence passed between each other. With lifeless eyes still downcast and staring at the floor, the boy just nodded his head in response.

“You’re welcome,” he finally mumbled, though his words were mostly lost to the popping and cracking of the flames.

“Why did you rescue me?” He asked, suspicion narrowing his tone.

Another long pause. The boy shrugged, “Right thing to do, I guess.”

“Location?”

“Several clicks due north, three clicks west.”

‘How does he know those terms?’ Karmine was impressed, “And my men?”

Several moments of awkward silence held the two strangers hostage, suffocating them until Desiree emerged from the kitchen holding a set of three wooden bowls and spoons in one hand and a pot brimming with a thick, dark stew in the other. ‘Probably the source of that fishy smell,’ Karmine hypothesized.

Finally, the intense energy in the air seemed to lift as Vasilios smiled at her and got up to help the girl settle, taking one of the empty bowls off the top and a spoon he offered them to Karmine, who accepted graciously before the boy took his own set of utensils. When he returned to his seat, the girl ladled a bit of the stew into it, repeating the process with both Karmine and herself last.

Karmine mumbled his thanks and began eating the stew en masse like a starved beast. When she finally managed to sit, Desiree passed Karmine a heel of stale bread, which he devoured greedily, using it to scoop up bits of the meal, before ultimately switching to the spoon when he realized how much of the loaf he had actually eaten. The aroma of shellfish and mackerel filled the commander’s nose while the peppers and spices' overwhelming scent burned the hairs on his upper lip and nostrils.

“Thank you for your continued kindness,” he said, dotting his lips and beard with a cleaning cloth. “It has been a while since I have had the pleasure of a homecooked meal. The lure of travel rations only seems to last for so long,” he offered his bowl for seconds. Desiree smiled and nodded, filling it up for him. “What do you call this?”

Desiree lit up at Karmine’s question, her dark skin developing a slight blush. The boy, still seemingly ignoring him, stared at his bowl and began mopping the bits leftover with what was left of his loaf.

“It is from my homeland of Southern Verastra. There we call it Beauroux. It is a family recipe that I helped to refine and adapted for travel,” She seemed proud of this and crossed her arms under her chest in a childish display of triumph.

He scooped up another spoonful and cautiously blew over the top as the steam rose, filling his nose and warming his face, fanning outwards before getting lost in the smoke of the central firepit. Tiny ripples of the thick liquid formed and traversed the surface of the spoon. The stew looked to have an odd rust-colored hue while the long grains of rice bobbed on the surface like little white and brown ships on Loch Aiys.

“I am glad you are enjoying it, bon appetit.”

His stomach rumbled, and Karmine rested the spoon in the bowl. The spiciness of the first bowl finally churning his gut. It wasn’t that it tasted bad. He just wasn’t used to Southern Verastran cooking, considering his aversion to spicy foods. In fact, he found that he rather liked the fishy, nostalgic taste of it. The stew was savory and filling. The mackerel's saltiness was beautifully balanced out by the shellfish and cream's sweetness, adding to the peppers' warmth and the rice, all dancing together in a beautiful myriad of flavors.

It reminded him of the days when he and his crewmates were granted shore-leave and would occupy the nearby taverns and whorehouses for the night. Then again, that was practically another lifetime ago, almost thirty years now. He was in the proper military now, the army to be exact, no longer a privateer, and it was just him and Second Lieutenant Lance Belmont… or was he alone now? The reminder of his predicament penetrating the surface of his mind, like the deep-sea monsters of old.

“So tell me, Commander,” Desiree began. Her eyes were bright and looked to be full of questions.

Karmine banished the dark thoughts from his mind. He would find his unit, all of them. He could not afford to doubt himself, not now, not ever. “Yes, what is it,” he said, realizing that the girl was still staring at him, patiently expecting a response. He realized he spoke more abruptly than intended, judging by the pained expression on her face. “My apologies, I did not mean to take that tone. What can I help you with?”

She smiled, “What brings you all the way to the Somnerveill?”

“We… I am returning from the Southern Continent, my troops and I had…” He paused, “business in the Three-Kingdoms.”

“Mon Dieu? The Three-Kingdoms? The Fae Lands?” Her green eyes were wide with intrigue as she leaned closer, captivated. “But of what “business” could you have there?”

“That is between me and mine own,” Karmine replied curtly. “No disrespect, but I have no reason to add any other civilians into the fray.”

“But you see, we are already involved since we rescued you, non?” She wore a smart look on her face as if amused by her own cleverness.

Karmine rolled his eyes. She was right. by all rhyme and reason, though he still had no idea how they wound up crossing paths, despite the fruitful outcome, grim as it may seem. Yet there was no reason to invest them further in his business, especially when he knew very little about his rescuers, which reminded him.

“How did you and Master Bouras-”

“Its Vas,” The boy shot Karmine a steely-eyed glare.

Ignoring him, Karmine continued, “How did you two happen across my path, anyhow? I feel like I would be dead now if it wasn’t for the both of you,” he picked up his bowl and ate another spoonful.

“You see, Messer Frost,” she looked cautiously towards Vasilios, for a hint as to how much she should share. When nothing was given, she continued. “We are making our way north, like you, to Jelaya.”

“Jelaya? What business do a couple of runaways have in the Imperial Capital?”

She narrowed her eyes. Karmine felt he had somehow offended her. “We are not runaways,” She glowered. The boy ducked his head, moving his attention to the floor away from the company. She didn’t seem to notice as she rounded on Karmine.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Karmine raised his hand apologetically. “Once again, I apologize I misspoke. I didn’t mean to offend. It is not my place to judge other’s actions based on… first impressions. Why were you headed to Jelaya?” Her gaze softened at his apology, though she shifted uncomfortably at his question.

“I am from one of Verastra’s poorer regions. My family and I, we are farmers,” she paused, her eyes downcast. “I have no title of my own, and we do not even own the land we toil and slave on. It is, umm, how you say, contracted?” She asked with a tinge of bitterness, working her way through the statement, separating out the consonants and looking to Vasilios for confirmation while stumbling over her words. The boy nodded at her in confirmation. She smiled delightfully and continued with renewed confidence, though the bitter tone never left.

“If we do not grow enough crops or we make little… uhh… profit off them, our contract expires, and we lose everything,” The obstinance and bitterness from before now replaced with quiet distress. “However, because of the famine, our harvest was not enough for la Prestataire, and she threatened to cancel our contract, leaving us without home,” She paused again as if remembering something painful. “That was almost a year ago,” her glowing optimism fading as she stared into the burning coals of the firepit. She sighed and leaned against the wall behind her, hugging her knees. “I was headed to Lafairre to ask for an extension when I saw a bill posted in a tavern. I saw it, and I hoped that it would help my family get the money to meet l’ entente, or agreement, as you say.”

Karmine finished his bowl and gave her his full attention before proceeding cautiously. “And… what did this bill say?”

She smiled, re-lighting her bright demeanor. She stood up and sprinted off, disappearing into the back room—the rustling of papers and trinkets trickled into the area, followed by several Verastran swears. “Putain. Bordel. Where is it? Espece d’idiot,” Karmine heard. He felt a smile peek from his lips as he stifled a laugh through his nose. After several minutes she returned, her neck-length black hair disheveled and unruly, flyaways jutting from both sides of her locks. She smiled victoriously, splitting her cheeks, and produced a piece of paper that she showed to Karmine.

“I’m going to bed,” Vasilios said, setting down his empty bowl and spoon on the floor next to his seat. “Thank you very much for dinner, Desiree. Merci, It was a treat like always,” He gave her a sheepish grin causing Desiree to blush.

“De rien, and good night, Mon ami,” She watched him head to the room, looking unsure as to follow him or not, ultimately deciding against it, she ducked her head, her face turning the color of red-velvet.

Karmine smiled knowingly, “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“Oui, he has been with me since I left Verastra. Though I can’t say for sure whether he approves of my decision or non,” she looked down at the piece of paper in her hands as she started to tremble.

“May I see it?”

She handed him the paper, and Karmine took it gently as if handling glass, trying his best to give the shaking woman a meaningful and comforting smile, though it was not his best skill. He read over it silently; however, he already knew exactly what it was after the first line. It was an application to be considered a Blade.