Chapter 8: Thoughts Astray


Nous jurons par l'Honneur des Flammes de garder notre lame des innocents.
Nous jurons par la Fontaine de Jouvence de ne jamais trahir l'Ordre.
Aucune créature ne sera délaissé. Aucune âmes ne sera oublié.
Nous agissons la nuit pour servir la lumière.
Nous nous élevons au-dessus des terres pour protéger les vies d'en dessous
Nous sommes hommes. Nous sommes bêtes.
Nous sommes les Dragonniers

Uzuri was shoved back as her trainer demanded that she attack. That she use her agile form to her advantage. That she use her speed to take him down.

However, she had used the majority of her energy on using her pilum to stab at him. Their spar had gone on too long because she could not adjust to this weapon.

Her father recently decided she needed to be better trained in the use of weapons beyond her shield and gladius. She did not particularly agree but she seemed to have no choice.

In result of that decision, Cassius had Uzuri trained in the use of every weapon in the Roman arsenal. Day after day Uzuri was trained non-stop on different techniques, different methods, and different weapons. Every night she was stripped of her energy, her stamina boiled down to that of a weak child's. Yes her skill in battle was improving, but was it worth it? Being – deep down inside – a non-violent person, she did not believe so.

Sometimes she wondered if her father cared beyond making her the ideal warrior, the ultimate soldier. Did he only see a weapon to sharpen?

Uzuri was, again, shoved back by her trainer. She grits her teeth, wishing she had her gladius. She would gladly run him through at this point. Uzuri was pretty sure the man was only still alive because of her awkward handle of the pilum in her hold.

In a burst of enraged annoyance, Uzuri changed her grip on the pilum and threw it like the spear it was. Her trainer, who had backed away after shoving her, was surprised by the incoming weapon and reacted too late. The pilum's sharp end connected with his own pilum, close to his hand, making him drop the pilum from the force.

Looking up from his now disarmed hand, he saw a shield heading for his head. He ducked, watching as the shield passed over his head and flew across the room. He had to hand it to the General, he sired quite the powerful daughter.

Seconds later, the man cursed himself for getting distracted by the young woman's strength. When he turned back to prepare for the next attack, all he saw was a fourteen year old girl running towards him. He could do nothing but suffer what she would do to him.

Dodging to the side and out of the way of his shield, Uzuri grabbed the man around the waist. Using her momentum, Uzuri swung her body around the man's, her legs swinging up and around until they were before her trainer's eyes. She wrapped her legs around his upper torso and continued to throw her body around him.

In the seconds of that single rotation down and around the man's body, he lost his stance and balance, brought down to the floor and on his back. Uzuri was left kneeling on one knee, holding a dagger to her trainer's throat. She always made sure she had her dagger, battle or not.

"How was that for fast and agile?" she smirked at the dumbfounded expression on her downed opponent's face.

Uzuri heard clapping behind her and was quick to rise and turn in its direction. There in the walkway of the general's private training arena, was her father.

He stood in more casual robes then he usually lets most see him in, but still in that stiff posture he was known for. His hair had been recently trimmed, and so was kept as professional as always. Resisting the urge to touch her now just above shoulder-length dark hair, Uzuri remembers when her hair was that short. Her father stops his clapping and holds his hands behind his back once again.

"Impressive performance, Uzuri. Good show of speed, you will need that in battles to come. Your agility is your greatest asset in battle, and so it is exceptional that you seem to be closer to mastering it," he would not show it, but Cassius was very proud of his daughter. He watched in silent amusement as his compliments seemed to brighten her face, "However, I have never seen a move like that in my all years."

Uzuri saw this as the perfect opportunity. She could show her father that she was not only skillful but inventive. She was more than a soldier who only stuck to the required. If she could take down the enemy with little force and minor injury, to both parties, she will find a way. She has wanted to share her discoveries and developments with her father but was always too cautious; and for good reason.

"It was something I came up with on my own. With all the trouble I was having with the constant change of weapons and techniques, I decided that I would need a way of taking down the enemy if I start to lose the battle. Once I have my target in my rotation, it becomes difficult for them to disengage from my hold. And by the time they realize this, they are on their back with a dagger through their throats. There are still some flaws for I must first get them in the hold, but I am sure that –"

"Stop."

Uzuri holds her breath, looking back into her father's eyes. Since they are emotionless, she cannot tell if he is impressed, angered, or just not in the mood for mindless blabber from a young recruit that believes she can show the general of the Roman Army battle strategies. Uzuri catches herself before she can bite her lower lip in nervousness. Her father once told her that it was unfit for a warrior to be nervous, let alone display their anxiety for all to see. She straightens her posture, hands against her sides. She tries not to look at her feet in shame and instead keeps her eyes on her father.

"That way of fighting is not the way of the Roman soldier. You will stick to what you have and will be taught in your lessons. Anything else is a disgrace of your Roman blood. If you plan on being the superior warrior in battle, you will not stoop down to the methods of the inferior. You will cease this child's play and I expect you to fight like the Roman you are tomorrow." He demands in the same tone he uses when he speaks to his soldiers. He must be hard on her if she is ever to learn.

Uzuri swallows the lump in her throat. So it was the last two, anger and not in the mood. She tries to play it as amusing in her mind but cannot seem to get around the fact that her father did not take her seriously. He did not believe she needed to think, only act. She was a Roman soldier and he did not believe she was acting like one. What he did not understand, was that everything a Roman soldier was…she was not.

"You are dismissed." Cassius ordered, watching as she walked away. He tried to remain serious and uncaring, but the defeated look in her eye made him question why. This was his daughter, so why could he not treat her as such. He looked back at the trainer who was standing up and gave him a look that told him he was dismissed as well. The trainer nodded and marched out. Cassius watched as both the trainer and Uzuri rounded corners and disappeared out of his sight. The moment they did, he released the breath he had been holding since he took such a stern tone with his daughter.

In the year since her mother had died, Cassius tried to do everything in his power to make sure Uzuri was safe and healthy. He did things differently than he supposed the average parent would, but he meant it all in good stride. This was how he handled things, this was how he was used to dealing with others. He could not adapt to being a caring parent who held their children through tough times, mainly because he did not know how. He was raised the same way Uzuri was now; strictly and with the intention of making a great warrior. He saw the same potential in Uzuri as his father saw in him. However, he could tell there was a significant difference.

Uzuri did not react well to this method of growing up as he did.

Cassius could tell she had the potential to be great, but he could also see the pacifist in her eyes. He could tell she had great determination for goals she set her mind to, but he could see that she had different goals than he. He was trying his best; nevertheless, Uzuri was not the child he was meant to raise. But he was trying. He hoped that one day she would see that.

~*~Safety and Peace~*~

Uzuri slammed the door to her quarters behind her. She leaned back into the door trying to forget this awful day. First, she cannot seem to get a hang of the pilum. Then she is resorted to using a technique she knew was risky from the very first day she developed it. Then her father mocks her new technique and dismisses her as if she were nothing but another soldier to him. The glares from the servants of the dwelling did not help the situation.

It was a painful walk back to her room, mainly because of the glares. She felt like she was getting used to her father's way of dealing with situations, even if they still stung a little. She could not get over the scowls. They looked at her as if she did not belong; as if even though they were the servants, she was beneath them. Those glares said everything about what they thought of her and her reason for being there in the General's home.

She walked over to her bed and threw herself on it, wincing a bit at the firmness of the mattress. She grabbed the firm pillow and held it to her chest. She wished she could leave and never turn back. Her father was now her only family, but then again, he was not much of a family. He cared enough to get her out of the cells and under his care, but he could have done that for any soldier he found enough potential in to train under his supervision. She was another soldier to him, not a daughter, not even given the attention of a niece. A soldier.

She wanted to live in a world where she would be seen as a soldier, and as just Uzuri. Where she can be appreciated for both sides of her person. She was a warrior but also kindhearted and caring.

That world seemed impossible here.

Uzuri closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Uzuri opened her eyes to a world of colors. Flowers surrounded her with birds and butterflies of all shapes and hues flying around her head, little voices filling her head with sounds of cheer.

With a smile, Uzuri turned to see two small creatures fluttering through the air, holding between them a woven crown covered in flowers. The creatures were smiling fairies that flew over to her and placed the crown on her head, their little voices complimenting her beauty and how the crown fit her like it was meant to rest upon her head. They bowed down to her in mid-air and she playfully returned the gesture. The fairy on the right, with purple eyes and white hair, motioned to something behind Uzuri with yet another smile.

Uzuri turned slowly around, the blue and green dress on her flowing with the movement. She looked up from the soft fabric of the dress she did not notice herself wearing before, to see a figure smiling down at her. She could not see the figure clearly, but she could point out one feature that stood out.

Two forest green eyes.

~*~Safety and Peace~*~

Hiccup wiped at his forehead, not yet as accustomed to the heat of the forge as he used to be. He smiled at the ridiculousness of this situation.

After realizing that he needed to return to human society, even if not his own people, Hiccup had been traveling the Anglo-Saxon lands for a semi-permanent residence. He needed a place to stay that would not only accept him but allow him to stay for as long as he needed. Living with six dragons made this a challenge.

Do not get him wrong, he would never actually show the dragons to the people he wished to stay with, but it was hard to hide them. There were times where he would stop at a village market to purchase supplies, only for the market to be disturbed by an overexcited Terrible Terror. He should have expected it. Ponto was known in the group to be very active and seemingly in lack of self-preservation.

On the bright side of that story, he raided a pirate ship when they left the village and found some very valuable things that could someday come in handy. Some clothes too. He needed those.

Eventually he was able to approach a market without his little follower – five much bigger dragons holding down a Terror greatly helped – and get better fitting clothing. In addition, he was able to test his limited English-speaking skills. It was not until he let his mouth run that he realized he needed some help with it. The now rough tone to his voice made it that much more challenging, including the fact that he had been speaking like a dragon for a whole of six months before actually speaking; it was tough, let's leave it at that.

He visited market after market, for both supplies and shelter, but only seemed to succeed when it came to supplies. He and his draconic friends traveled for two months before they finally found a woman who was kind enough to let him take residence. The forest not far behind her home allowed for the dragons to take shelter as close to him as they possibly could.

Her name is Lynnette Thorpe and she was an old woman. She was also a widow that seemed to have lost more than her husband. Her two children were sent to join the crusades, and only one was rumored to now be alive. He believes Lynnette said her name was Maria. Yes, her; Lynnette's daughter was known for being very stubborn and refusing to be treated as a common woman to be sold to a husband. Now she roams the Holy Land alongside her crusader companions. Lynnette has not heard from her since she left.

However, Lynnette was still very kind despite losing her family. She offered not only a room for him to sleep, but she offered to make him his meals and wash his clothes. It was sweet, but Hiccup assured her that giving him a temporary stable home was good enough and he would forever be grateful. She still assisted though, the stubborn old woman.

Now with a promised home to return to, Hiccup was able to return to that same market for weeks. He became acquaintances with a number of the venders (most would be off on their way soon, he gathered), and became better acquainted with the resident people of the village. Within those weeks, he also learned of a local blacksmith. Hiccup was quick to ask for a place of work – Toothless' tail needed some improvements.

He was, of course, rejected by the man and decided he would make it his goal to someday work for him, or at the very least be given permission to use the forge.

For the months between his rejection and his acceptance, Hiccup and the dragons would make regular visits to the lands nearby. He would travel to the neighboring lands of Anglo-Saxon England – branching out to Ireland and Scotland – and also France. He would travel with them to Norway and Sweden, sometimes to Denmark. Paratyl – the Nightmare – once encouraged them to travel further and they were able to reach Navarre and Aragon. He took extra care to avoid the Romans.

Although there was much to learn in those lands, he would always return home to Lynnette with hopes of visiting the friends he made in those other lands another day. It was a great learning experience, but Lynnette's house by the woods felt like home.

Soon after his recent trip, the blacksmith was on the hunt for him. The large Englishman, Thomas, was apparently having some trouble making all the orders demanded by the King. It was the Prince's birthday and he was asking very much, being very spoiled. Thomas was getting overwhelmed. With Hiccup being the only other in town with even a bit of skill and knowledge of the forge, he was Thomas's only hope.

So now here Hiccup was, slaving away in front of an unfinished sword, pounding away with arms that seemed to have forgotten how to properly hit the heated metal into shape. On the bright side, he could now very easily lift the hammer and pound the metal. His once bone and skin arms were now toned with muscle, just enough to look like he was meant to be working the forge.

It was too bad that the whole year away from the forge was messing with his skill. He seemed to have lost his way in all these months since his time in Berk. He knew what he needed to do, but his hands did not want to do what his mind remembered. It really frustrated him. Wanting to get his mind off his horrible work, Hiccup dipped the sword in a bucket of water before setting it down and turned to his personal worktable. On the table was his journal, which he had been carrying around since he left Berk.

He picked up his charcoal stick and put the tip to paper. For the past month, he had been planning some weapons he could make for himself. One was a crossbow, which he remembered the Romans used. He once got a hold of one when his village's ship was attacked by Roman ships. He was travelling along with his father to visit some neighboring villages to make some trades when Roman ships appeared out of nowhere. During the battle, one of the Roman's lost his weapon in the water and the then young Hiccup reached out for it when it was in his reach. He was not in possession of it for long, only getting a mere glimpse before his father ripped it out of his grasp. Nonetheless, Hiccup was able to remember the basic design of the weapon.

His second design was something all his own. Something lightweight and easily hidden, for hands-free motion. It would not have reach but it would have force and impeccable aim. It would be a blade, wrapped to his wrist and hidden until he finds need for it. He had the design almost complete, but he needed to create a way of ejecting the blade, and possibly finding a way to make it so his fingers would not be sliced off when it did eject.

"Morning, Hikke." Hiccup turned at the sound of his name. At the shop's window was a village girl accompanied by her usual guard escort. She stood about an inch shorter than him, yet she was at least a year older. Her long black hair flowed down her back, a great contrast to her pale skin. Although her worn-out clothes and slightly dirt-riddled skin made her out to look like a slave maid, it could not hide her beauty. And beautiful she was, especially because of her bright blue eyes that always seemed to shine when in his presence.

"Good Morning, Marietta." Hiccup greeted back, once again mentally thanking Lynnette for helping him perfect his English. He pushed aside his journal and plans to go stand by the window to properly converse, "What do the Bennetts need today? Does Lord Bennett want a new sword? A new shield? Did James ruin his saddle again? Either he needs a new horse or an iron saddle." Hiccup joked. The Bennetts always seemed to be asking for more and more things but never used them. The only objects he forged for them that they even used were the saddles for their horses and the jewelry for Lady Bennett. He was glad Thomas taught him how to make those since she always asked for them at least twice a moon cycle. He seemed to always be alone in the forge when those orders were made.

"Actually, Lady Bennett is demanding a new waist belt. To add to her large collection. She doesn't exactly need it, but you know her. Always asking for more than she needs like a spoiled little chi–" Hiccup watched in disgust as her escort wacked the back of the girl's head. She winced as she held her head, rubbing it as she tried to hold back tears of pain. Hiccup's fists clenched with the urge to defend Marietta, but knew he would only get the whole of the Bennett guard on his tail. He would not stand a chance, especially since he could not let his dragons help and get discovered. They would be hunted until each was so far gone, no one could reach them, or dead.

"Do not speak of Lady Astoria with such ill intent." The guard ordered in a threatening tone. Marietta cowered under the man's glare. Hiccup's gaze very quickly shifted to the hammer not far off to his right on the counter. He was quick to turn his eyes back to the scene before him. If he kept the hammer in his sight, he would subconsciously reach for it if the guard hurt the girl again. But if he did not look at the hammer, he would probably miss it when he blindly reached out for it and then come back to reality. So he made sure he just kept his eyes on the guard's hands. He could not hurt him, but Hiccup could surely stop him.

The guard felt like he was being stared at and turned to see forest green fire in the eyes of the blacksmith's apprentice. He was but a young boy, not even the ignorant girl's age, possibly younger. Nonetheless, the boy's glare struck deep inside the guard's soul. Something about the boy's eyes suggested that he was more than he appeared to be, and so the guard decided to be smart and not underestimate him. Forgetting about the slave girl, he saw another Bennett Manor guard conversing with a common village girl, "I'll be just over here, girl. Do not let me see you doing anything you would regret." He glared at the teen before walking away, avoiding the boy's gaze entirely.

Marietta sighed and finally released the tension in her body. Hiccup, who had been following the guard's movements, turned to chuckle at his friend's obvious relief, "Happy he's gone?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Every day that he was present in the forge, Marietta would come out of the Bennett Manor with her usual escort. They appeared to be protecting her, but he knew better. They were sent to go with her to the village market to keep their eye on her. Hiccup could tell the girl was being abused by Lord and Lady Bennett, it was not hard to figure out from her appearance. She was almost bone thin, her eyes shadowed in depression, her hair and clothes a mess. He did not know the extent of her awful treatment, but he understood that it was bad and Marietta needed help, "I'm sorry I didn't stop him…even if I had my reasons." Hiccup mumbled under his breath in Norse.

Marietta gave a small smile as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She admired Hiccup for his kind nature. He was always apologizing for not being able to help, in fear of the entirety of the Bennett Guard. Marietta did not mind that he could not stop the abuse, as long as he expressed his concern and admitted to wishing he could help, "Don't be. I should not have said such harsh words about my Lady. She is not the kindest, but she offers a home and daily meals." Marietta made sure not to mention that her 'home' was a pillow and thin blanket on the floor of the stables, or that her 'daily meals' were a palm-sized piece of bread and small bowl of water every morning; twice a day if Lady Bennett was in a generous mood.

"There are others in the village that could offer you the same, possibly more…why do you let yourself be treated that way?" Hiccup asked, his fists clenching again as he looked off at the guard who was now speaking to yet another guard while keeping his gaze on Marietta, "You know there's always a way out, right? That you don't need to live like this…" He looked back to Marietta, his eyes softening at the insecure look on her face. She was biting her lip, keeping her gaze on her torn dress.

"It's not as easy as it sounds, Hikke…" Marietta looked back up at Hiccup with welling crystal blue eyes. Her eyes always confused hiccup. They reminded him of his recurring dream and the woman with the child. They were exactly like the woman's, so much so that he was often pulled into trances by Marietta's eyes, trances that were like daydreams of the woman of his dreams. What confused him was Marietta was not that woman. So how could she possibly have those eyes? Mentally shaking himself free of these thoughts before he went into a trance, Hiccup focused on Marietta, "If I were to even try to leave, the Bennetts might just hunt me down and order for me to be killed on sight. I feel safest under their control." Even Marietta knew she was lying. Hiccup did not attempt to correct her, to change her mind, because she was half-right. She had the same reasons for not leaving as he had for not going to the Bennett Manor and tearing it down stone by stone: they would be the prey of a seemingly endless hunt.

"One day, Marietta. One day you'll find your chance to leave. And I assure you that your life will finally start once you do." The guard started on his way back to them and Hiccup stepped back from leaning on the window counter, not knowing when he had changed positions from his straight posture.

"You're done here, girl. Move." The guard pushed Marietta away, just as she dropped a sheet of paper on the counter. Hiccup picked it up as he watched the pair leave. He looked down at the sheet to see the waist belt design, one more elaborate than the last one he made. He groaned, knowing this new project would just be more work to add to his list. He sat back at his desk and pulled up his journal. He flipped through the pages of weapon plans to a single page with a letter written in Norse.

A few months back, he finally asked Toothless why he did not have a given name, aside from the one Hiccup gave him himself.

That was when the secret of the 'Queen' came out.

Apparently, the dragons did not raid villages out of their own personal gain. If they could, they would avoid villages of ruthless dragon-killing humans. Hiccup had asked, then why did they?

The dragons told of a great beast that rested in the center of the dragons' nest, a sitting duck that was too big to leave its own home without bringing it down to rumble. It was a dragon – if you wanted to call it that – that had a special ability: it could control minds. It reeled dragons in when they entered her sphere of control, and made them do her bidding. In other words, raid villages for food to feed her. Sheep, yaks, fish, even a human now and then if they could. With every dragon it lured into its control, it got stronger.

When Hiccup asked what this had to do with Toothless being nameless…Toothless' mother was captured by the Queen when she was still heavy with hatchlings. While under the control of the Queen, his mother laid three eggs and they all hatched, three healthy Night Furies. However, his mother was so controlled by the Queen that she barely came to her right mind enough to feed them, let alone name them. Out of the three, only Toothless survived the first year, fighting through the starvation so that he could live to maturity. His mother soon became a victim of the Queen's hunger, and he has been under her control ever since.

And so, Hiccup concluded that the dragons' nest was dangerous for not only humans, but also dragons. With this realization came yet another one. His father was known for being the most stubborn of Vikings, and this meant he would continue his nest hunts despite losses in both men and supplies.

For months Hiccup debated sending a letter back to Berk to warn his father to seize his hunts, for they were fruitless. He should save his resources and men for raids. Hiccup was not sure if he really wanted to help out his home village or not, but soon realized he was being heartless for holding back. It was not the best home, but they did not deserve to all lose their lives to serve a relentless chief and fight a senseless war.

Hiccup closed his journal, therefore taking his eyes off the letter he had prepared for when he decided to help out his people. He looked at the sheet with the belt design and thought of Marietta. Why did it feel like he wanted to help everyone?

First he does not want to kill dragons and leaves with them so they would not be harmed.

Then he offers to bring back life to his generous host and help her with daily chores.

Next he meets a lonely maid of a girl in Marietta and constantly gets thoughts of helping her escape.

Lastly he finds out about the Queen and wants to not only warn his tribe, but someday bring an end to the beastly ruler.

There seemed to be no end to the impossible goals he set for himself. Flipping open his journal to the page with the hidden blade design, Hiccup had a thought. What if he could get help? Bring a group of people together to fight for similar causes? An Order of people fighting for peace and safety?

Hiccup shook his head to clear the ridiculous thoughts. Like that could ever work, let alone come to be.

Rien n'est vrai, tout est permis.

"Man seeks dominion over all that he encounters. I suppose it is a natural tendency for us to aspire towards mastery of our surroundings. But this should not include other human beings. Every day more and more are pressed into service – by deception or by force. Others, though not so firmly imprisoned, are made to feel as if their lives are worthless…"– Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad


Creed Language: French


Proper Creed Translation Credit: Pyrophoricity

Originally Posted: April 16, 2013

Recently Revised: March 10, 2015

Notes:

~ Inaccurate Historical Information – If someone reading this is a history major/buff, I am very sorry. I know the timelines and facts are all screwy, I am not ignorant of that. But since I'm not that into history, I didn't have the motivation to research accurate history, plus some of my characters wouldn't even exist if I did stick to accuracy. I will say that this story takes place around the 4th century, meaning the Roman Empire is coming to an end. Part of the reason Uzuri keeps being thrown into the arena, since the Romans ended up trying to entertain their people with battles to distract them from their failing empire. That I do know. Pretend that as the Roman Empire is falling, that the Holy Crusade is starting now, which explains Maria Thorpe for the Assassin's Creed fans. After this story, and maybe the sequel if I get around to, I will then try to stick to accurate history. Like the Black Plague, since that will still happen.