As his ears tuned to the sound, he caught 8 words. "I dig my hole you build a wall..." He gets up...
Where was he now? Langston River maybe? That's where the Bard's college resided, on the edge of The Wilds. But he swore he directed himself towards The Walls! As his eyes focused after the collision with the ground, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was at The Walls! Thank The Mother! But where was that singing coming from?
Marshal Haven walked up to him from his command post, lifting his Carbine up in greeting. "Ahoy there Kid! I trust the mission was a success?"
The Kid nodded in confirmation, falling in step with Haven on the walk to the Captain's tent, voices issuing out of it, discussing expeditions into the wilds and such-like.
While they headed to the tent, Haven talked to the Kid. "Do'ya like the sound of the singing laddie? The wee lassie was brought here from the Bard's college to motivate the workers. You know how down they can get in the winter, with the snow freezing their-
"Their what, Haven?" interrupted the gravelly tones of Beck, a heavy lifter on the walls, emerging from the depths of the tent.
"I was gonna say noses, Beck, noses!" grumbled Haven, crumbling under Beck's stony gaze. Every man on the walls was scared of Beck, even the Marshals. The Kid had once seen him single-handedly take out a herd of lunkheads with his bare hands. Of course, The Kid ain't no man, so he passed under Beck's arm without a second glance, leaving the two of them bickering about conduct around children, and proceeded towards the voices issuing orders.
Inside the tent was much warmer that the bitter cold outside.
Brushing some snow off his shoulders, The Kid presented himself before the gathered marshals, who stopped talking as soon as he came in and glanced at him nervously, hoping for news of the mission.
Nodding his head in affirmation, the group sighed in relief, as the leader, a man called Temper (a name suited to his personality), clapped the kid on the back.
"Lemaign pities us! I knew I could count on you Kid, The Mayor would have had my head if I didn't help The Mancers." He exclaimed with vigour. "A bunch of boffins if you ask me, but what can you do?"
The Kid simply shrugged, waiting patiently for his next assignment. As if sensing this, Temper proceeded without lingering. "Normally, I would get you to help hold off the lunkheads, as something has them riled up at the moment, almost as if something is about to happen..." The Kid cleared his throat to bring Temper back to earth, and he carried on "But I have a feeling you went through hell over in the east, so all I need you to do is take care of our visitor."
Visitor? The Kid pondered, while Temper continued.
"I don't remember her name, but she's The Singer motivating The Masons building the walls. We have Marshal Low looking after her for now, you know, our only female marshal, but they don't seem to be getting along well…" Temper seemed to be waiting for a reaction, but shrugged and continued.
"And well, I thought, maybe, since both of you are the same age, you'd get along together better, and hey, maybe you'd get some rest." The Kid just nodded dumbly, following the instructions to the north, while two words rattled around in his brain. The… Singer? How could two words fill him with some much joy, yet mean nothing at all?
After collecting his Trusty Shield from the armoury and slinging it across his back, he trudged northwards, and cast his thoughts aside, focusing on the cold nipping at his exposed skin, and the snow camouflaging perfectly in his dove-white hair. As he saw Low getting closer in the distance, the singing got louder, and the pain from his wounds fell away, and his heart lifted, filling him with a sense of security he hadn't had since he was six, with his mother in front of the fire at home. It made him feel at home.
He broke out of his trance at the movement of Low's arm's waving at him in the corner of his eye. Seeing The Kid jogging over, Low jumped up in relief. "Thank the Duke you're here! I'm bored out of my mind here, and I think the cold is getting to me." After complaining some more about how her skills could be put to better use, she gave The Kid the briefing.
"You don't really have to do anything except keep any stray squirts out of her way and talk to her at her breaks. Whatever you do, make sure none of the workers get close to her. Firstly, it distracts her from her music, and secondly, well, you know, most of them haven't seen a female in 1-5 years. Some of them might get a bit carried away, you know? And I don't think she can't defend herself like I can. So, just, keep her safe, okay?" she shouted the last part over her shoulder, while running back to the command post, her head bent against the snow.
As The Kid turned the corner to the source of the music, it stopped abruptly, as if The Singer could sense him near.
As soon as they came into sight of each other, they locked eyes, as if they could extract answers from each other via pure will-force. Their body went beyond either of their control, not moving a muscle as they stood there, staring each other down and the wind played with their hair, her hair blowing across her face, while his singed hair blew up, highlighting the spikes in it, standing them on end as they inched ever closer towards each other.
Soon, they were able to feel each other's breath on their skin.
Silence.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she reached up, and touched his cheek, scraping a fingernail across the skin. Then, without warning, she snapped her hand away. Just his luck to be guarding Zia! Surely he could be— He stopped mid-thought. What had he called her? "Um, hello? Have we met before?" The Singer continued timidly.
The Kid shook his head in response, and proceeded past her to stand in front of the harp she had dropped. Dropping his hammer down, he turned towards The Singer, sticking out his hand. She shook it daintily, her smooth skin feeling alien against his calloused hands.
"I'm Zia! I hear that you'll be guarding me from now on? I'm leaving tomorrow morning, but at least we have today to become friends!" Zia exclaimed, practically skipping towards her harp with the prospect of meeting someone new lighting up her day. She collapsed onto her stool, and started playing again, while The Kid stood to the side of his hammer, a wary hand brushing the grip, keeping an eye out for any dangers.
However, the soothing notes and melodies of Zia seemed to have a dulling effect on his senses, and his eyes drooped, his brain recalling memories of his mother that his conscious mind refused to remember, and The Kid revelled in the feeling, dancing through the memories that poured out of the songs and flowed through his body.
Zia liked him.
Not because he didn't seem to move from vigilant scouting, or because he refused food so she didn't go hungry, or because his hair seemed so beautiful, as if it was crafted from the snow drifting down.
It was because he was simple.
He didn't request songs, like most of the workers, or mind that she hadn't asked his name. He seemed so... peaceful. As if the Walls were his creation, and he was finally home.
He didn't speak a word, not to anyone, preferring to speak via gestures and meaningful looks. Most of the time, the workers looked curiously at her, until the kid started to move subtlety every time they did.
They stopped looking soon after.
She didn't understand that at all. Why were these full-grown men afraid of a Kid lazily leaning against a hammer? They seemed to twitch in anticipation when he shifted his weight, and flinched when he lifted up his hammer to change its position.
She had to admit, she was surprised that a Kid as young as herself was even permitted to sign onto The Walls, but then she saw him fight, everything came into perspective.
There was a tavern that was near them, which neither The Kid or herself payed attention to, until she heard the last call bell ring out, and an outrageously inaccurate mimicry of her singing issued from its entrance and 7 men stumbled from the threshold, bottles in hand. Without her noticing, the kid had slung the hammer across his shoulders, standing between the men and Zia.
With a signal, he told her to stop singing.
"Carry on, please! And maybe afterwards, you and me can have some fun?" said the leader, laughing along with his friends, nudging them in the ribs.
Then, they noticed The Kid, and they froze, sizing him up.
"Well, now I'm wondering if the trouble lassie." Then, to The Kid, "Course, I've heard your reputation, but seeing you in person, you don't seem very special. There's seven of us, and only 1 of you."
The Kid just shrugged nonchalantly, not moving, waiting patiently for them to move on.
Worried that The Kid might not win, Zia got up, and tugged on his arm, whispering into his ear.
"I'm scared, just leave it okay?"
Unfortunately, the men heard, and they started laughing again, some them calling "We'll take care good care of you!"
Zia retreated back to her stool, blushing furiously with embarrassment, while the standoff continued. The Kid was about to turn away in boredom, when one of the men made his mistake.
He catcalled.
The Kid seemed to freeze up, and slowly, a menacing grin slid across his face while he held his palm up. Everyone had thought he had gone mad, until quick as a flash; he folded his thumb into his palm. Everyone stood still, confused, until The Kid put down his little finger.
He was counting down.
Almost instantly, 3 of the drunkards choked, took one last swig of their spirits, dropped their bottles quickly, and ran away as fast as they could.
Confused, Zia turned back to The Kid, to see that he was now lingering with only his index finger up, as if giving the remaining men one last second to save themselves.
Fearing for her protector's life, Zia studied the four men as they cracked their knuckles menacingly, so she could report them to The Marshals later. Besides the frontman, there were 3 other men left. A man with an earring, who leered creepily at her when he saw her looking, a man with an ugly scar crossing his nose who smashed his bottle on the ground to create a jagged edge to stab with, and strangely, a man with no shirt, as if he had lost it while drinking the day away.
The head spoke, snapping the girl out of her inspection. "Kid, you could get hurt. I'll let you go without hurting you if you walk away now."
The Kid didn't move an inch, except for folding his last finger down.
As soon as his finger touched his palm, The Kid brought his hand up to the handle of his hammer, still resting on his shoulder, and before anyone could even follow the movement of his hand, he jumped forward and forced the hammer downward, aided by gravity, into the leaders kneecap.
Zia could hear it shattering the bone instantaneously.
Kicking the now crippled and screaming man out of the way, The Kid advanced on Scarface and the Earring Guy, while No Shirt hung back.
Scarface snarled, and lunged at The Kid, the bottle in his hand swiping through the air, but The Kid merely sidestepped, then whacked him in the face with the hilt of his hammer, making the man's head fall and hit the floor from his own momentum.
Seeing that two men were already down, the Earring guy had drawn a knife and was watching The Kid warily, until, impatient from no attacks, drove the knife towards The Kid's gut.
Zia gasped in horror as The Kid did nothing to stop the path of the deadly instrument, until at the last second, The Kid's Bullhead Shield seemed to materialise on his arm, as if summoned from his back.
The blade shattered against the impenetrable metal, and The Kid threw the man back with a push of his shield, and he fell onto his knees in front of The Kid, his head ringing and arms numb from the feedback when the metals clashed.
The Kid knocked the man out with a knee to the head.
After surveying the various bodies in various degrees of distress, The Kid concluded the danger was over, slung his hammer across his back once again, and started to drag the men by their collars back towards the tavern.
As soon as The Kid turned his back, the guy with no shirt sneaked out from behind some nearby Gasfella boxes, which he seemed to have hid behind while The Kid was occupied with the other men. No Shirt, glancing at her, put his finger to his lips with a crooked grin, creeping up behind The Kid, an ugly plank of wood in hand.
Internally, Zia scoffed indignantly. What did he think? She wasn't a threat?
His mistake. Time to show how threatening she could be.
Hefting her harp up in her arms, using the muscles gained from years of painstaking practice, Zia sprinted over behind the drunkard, smashing the harp over his head with a deafening cacophony of twanging strings and splintering wood.
The Kid whirled around, his Life-Long Friend already out and ready to strike out at the danger, when his eyes, which were previously roaming around for the disturbance, came to rest on Zia and the victim of her aggression lying at her feet, clutching his head and groaning in pain.
The Kid stared at her wide-eyed for a few seconds, before his lips twitched up into a smile, something Zia hadn't seen him do once in the few hours she had known him. He put his hand on her shoulder, nodding his head at her purposely.
Zia got the intended meaning: Thanks.
She smiled back at him slowly to show that she understood. Seeing this conformation, The Kid took No Shirt under his arms, hefted him onto his back in a fireman's carry, and trudged over to dump him with the other various victims, who were now residing on the porch of the tavern.
After knocking on the door a few times, The Kid reached into his pocket and turned it inside out, seemingly to pull out as many coins as he could, which, unfortunately, wasn't much. Only 1 Gold coin, 2 Silver and 5 Bronze.
After a moment of Zia feeling sorry for The Kid's financial situation, the door of the tavern creaked out, snapping The Singer out of her thoughts. What she assumed was the owner of the establishment, upon seeing The Kid, sighed, and said "How many this time?"
Looking down, the barkeep seemed to count up the bodies and then fished the right amount of coins out of The Kid's outstretched hand, leaving him with 2 Bronze coins left.
While The Kid walked back to clear up the mess made by the fight, Zia walked tentatively up to the Barman, who was now lugging the bodies into the tavern, and started to help him.
"What was all that about?" she asked, grabbing the other arm of the leader, who had passed out from the pain from his broken kneecap. The bartender smiled grimly in thanks.
"Whenever someone starts a fight with that boy, they always lose, and the poor Kid lugs them over here, pays for a room and meals till they recover, then leaves."
Startled at the revelation, she inquired further. "But why? They started the fight! He shouldn't have to pay for them!"
The man shook his head solemnly. "That boy honours the Gods. In this case, Hense, The Veiled Widow. You know, the Goddess of Pain and Pleasure. The Kid gave them the pain, so now he has to give them pleasure, or in this case, comfort as well. You can't have one without the other."
After they had dragged all the bodies inside, the man brushed his hands on his apron, and held out his hand. "Thanks for the help" he smiled. "What's your name?"
"Zia" The Singer replied.
"What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl with a beautiful voice!" he winked. The guy jabbed a thumb at himself, and continued.
My name's Rondy, and this girl right here?" He patted the doorframe and looked up at the tavern "This is The Sole Regret" He laughed good-naturedly. "Kind of fitting, considering that most people's Sole Regret when they get here is messing with that Kid!"
When Zia got back to The Kid, and started singing again without her harp, she thought of the kid's fighting.
It was like she had seen him fight before somewhere...
Lost in singing the music, Zia reviewed her memories of the fight that had just occurred.
Slowly, the drunkards seemed to transform into Ura, and her perspective seemed to warp so she was watching from a perch, looking over Zulten's Hollow...
Zia shook her head, scattering the memories. She'd never been there! How would she know what it looks like?
The memories came back full-force, but this time, The Kid was fighting off peckers and lunkheads, while she looked on, singing to give him strength.
Zia shook her head once more, to clear it, and her singing faltered. The Kid looked back at her worriedly, looking around for danger. Smiling apologetically, she started up again, casting her thoughts aside.
The memories weren't real. It's only a dream. A fantasy of another time.
She tried to convince herself of it for the rest of the night.
The next day, The Kid and Zia stood in front of Marshal Temper, the former bored with the trivial meeting, and the latter, well, she wasn't looking the Marshal in the eye.
She was still worried about what her father said about The Marshals. Venn always was a wary man.
"Well, thanks for your help Zia, but we got to get you off The Walls. Heard there was a slight scuffle..."
Temper looked at The Kid pointedly, who merely snorted, and adjusted the bandages on his left hand and wrist. "Okay, more like a massacre, but that's not the point."
Temper directed his attention back to Zia, and held out a bag that jingled merrily as it came to rest in her palm. "Here's your pay, we'll be asking the Bard's College for another singer soon. Tell them we're sorry about the harp..."
All the inhabitants of the room looked guiltily at the remains of the harp, which now resided in a battered bag.
Clearing his throat, Temper pointed to a Skyway in the distance. "You can get back to Langston River from there. Now, Kid, I got a new assignment for you..."
Zia glanced at the Skyway, panicking. She didn't want to leave The Kid now. She didn't know why, but she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, before something bad happened...
She didn't know what would happen, but something would, she knew it would. An apocalypse? A... a... a... Calamity?
"Wait!" She cried out desperately. "Can't he come with me?" Both males looked at her, bewildered.
Since she had gained their attention, she carried on. "I mean, the skyway at Langston River is quite a way away from the Bard's college... Shouldn't I have some protection from muggers?"
Temper stroked an imaginary beard while sizing her up, while The Kid sent her a piercing glare that said What are you trying to do? You literally just saved me from getting killed from behind! There is no way you need protection. If anything, you'll be protecting ME!
Zia merely held The Kid's gaze steadily, until Temper finally spoke up, looking back at The Kid. "Well, you ARE overdue for an expedition into The Wilds, and Langston River is right on the edge of them... Hmm..." Coming to a decision, he nodded "Okay, go with her. But remember to take your bedroll this time!" he laughed, seemingly remembering the last time The Kid had gone into wilds.
The Kid rolled his eyes, growling in exasperation. Zia could practically hear his meaning, as if he was saying it out loud. That was one time!
Temper laughed even harder.
Standing in front of the skyway, The Kid look morosely at the remains of the harp Zia had. He plunged his hand into his pocket, brought out his last two bronze coins, and held them out to Zia meaningfully.
She merely shook her head in denial. "It's okay. It's not actually my harp; it's only the schools. I keep my harp at home for special occasions."
Noticing that the worried expression hadn't left The Kid's face, she reassured him further. "Honestly, it's fine! The College will just send to bill to The Masons!"
Satisfied, The Kid slid the 2 coins back into his pocket, and held out his bandaged hand out for Zia to hold.
After The Kid had muttered a half-hearted prayer to Olak for a safe landing, The Kid and Zia jumped onto the skyway, flying over the land that they didn't know they had missed, in the direction of the glistening river in the distance.