Chapter 10 Tent Mates
In time Feliciano got used to the Captain's rigid orderliness. It was comforting to have someone to share space with. Feli would return at nights from the infirmary to find Ludwig poring over maps, writing in notebooks or scratching his head restlessly while muttering something about supplies. Feli would lay down his bedroll and fall asleep to the pleasant sounds of rustling paper. If he woke in the middle of the night, or rather in the space between midnight and dawn, he'd listen to the Captain's breathing. How nice to be reminded that someone like Ludwig was only a few steps away. It brought back memories of crawling into his grandfather's bed every time he had a nightmare. He needed those snores to reassure him that someone was there for him.
It was then that Feli decided that he wanted to do everything in his power (short of using his powers to hurt others) to please the Captain. He wanted to be a good Healer, he wanted the Captain's approval. He wanted to ensure that there would always be a place for him in Ludwig's tent, a place just big enough to lay down his bedroll.
He had ached to find such a place for so long: where he would be greeted, or rather grunted at, when he entered at the end of the day. A small place on the floor and the Captain's occasional monosyllabic replies wasn't much but Feli had had far less.
Now he was determined to hold on to it for as long as he could.
One night Feliciano sat in his corner on the bedroll. He felt tired, the whole day had been one injured soldier after another. Feliciano was just starting to realize what a rowdy bunch they were. He wouldn't have had to heal half as many scrapes and broken ankles if the men had behaved themselves instead of getting into petty brawls. As one soldier had explained, it was pay day and the army's main concern was trying to find ways to spend their new wages. Drunkenness had ensued. He could still smell the alcohol, even now.
Feli was only too grateful to return to the Captain's tent at the end of his shift. Ludwig, of course, was busy as usual, absorbed in the documents on his desk. Feli sat on his bedroll, watching the shadows from the candlelight ebb and flow on the Captain's face. Ludwig did not say anything to him beyond a few casual greetings. He did not even rise when one soldier delivered their dinners.
Feliciano ate in silence and watched as Ludwig's meal grew cold.
"Captain?" He said softly. When the Captain did not respond he said a little louder, "Captain."
Ludwig turned towards him, his face half a mask of shadows, half of annoyance.
"Is the food not to your liking?" Overall it had not been a bad meal. Feliciano had once been an epicurean, now, as long as it was edible (or not of Priest Kirkland's making) he would eat it.
"No, I'm not hungry," the Captain said brusquely and returned to his work.
"But Captain, you must eat," Feli ventured.
"I'm busy," the reply came. "I don't need to eat."
"But Captain-"
"Exactly," this time Ludwig turned to him. "I am your captain. You do not tell me what to do."
"And I am your Healer. How do you expect me to heal you if you do not even care about your own health?"
The Captain sighed, and though Feliciano did not want to use the word 'defeated' to describe the man, it was obvious he was not winning the situation.
He lifted his fork and stabbed a piece of meat, then shoved into his mouth and stared at the other.
Feliciano felt a tingling sensation of happiness and victory.
The next morning, however, the Captain was back to his usual reprimanding self.
"I want those trunks packed to the utmost capacity! There's still room for another bedroll in there!"
Feliciano worked on the sidelines, deconstructing the healer's tent.
He hadn't thought to ask what Ludwig's objectives were. That had got him in trouble with Ivan, now it was happening again. Except that now he didn't really want to ask. Like asking would somehow ruin whatever relationship he was starting to have with the captain.
Feliciano kept his lips sealed on the subject. He knew, eventually, they would be ripped open and exposed to the truth, but for now he regarded ignorance as his own sort of little heaven.
That heaven lasted until noon.
"This man has been caught stealing army property," Ludwig announced in front of the camp, his voice as cold as steel. Feliciano, curious about the gathered crowd, had walked into the mass, only to come out the other side to witness the Captain holding somebody at gunpoint.
Feliciano felt his skin crawl. He knew what the gun in Ludwig's hand meant now. The soldier would be given no trial. He hadn't need of one. He was already condemned.
Feli felt his feet bounding the Captain's side. "You can't!" He said. He held onto the Captain's arm.
Ludwig looked at him incredulously. Feli knew you did not say no to the Captain, you did not rebuke his words. But still, his heart beat ferociously and he could not let the Captain's will come to pass.
Finally Ludwig regained his composure. "Get out of the way, this doesn't concern you."
"No, Captain it does!"
The same look crossed Ludwig's eyes and before he could utter a "how?" Feli was already speaking in protest.
"Regardless of what this man has done he does not deserve that," Feli looked at the gun in Ludwig's hand. "If it is true that he had been stealing army property, perhaps he had a reason. And perhaps you are mistaken about his intentions."
The accused hunched, his expression unreadable.
Ludwig reduced his words to a whisper. "And what if I told you this man has been stealing weapons and selling them to the enemy? What then? He has put the safety of this whole army at risk. And for what, a few measly coins that he will waste on consumption anyway. No," the Captain's eyes narrowed, "you are the one who is mistaken." Ludwig shrugged him off and pointed the gun at the soldier.
"No!" Feli yelled, rushing to intercept. He acted as a human shield. He did not think Ludwig would shoot him, though that was the main reason why he had run between the two. He did not want to see any more deaths that he had the chance of averting.
Ludwig sighed. "So you believe in this man's innocence then?"
"No," Feliciano held his ground. "I didn't say that. I only believe that he does not deserve such a fate."
Ludwig grimaced.
"What would you do then?"
"Give him a trial-"
"He will be given no such thing."
"Then let him have a chance to explain himself."
"He was caught red-handed."
Feliciano looked towards the ground, trying to formalize an answer, but more, trying to avoid the Captain's cold glare. "Then discharge him."
Ludwig stayed silent for a long time, and in that time Feli thought that the Captain would use his force to push him away and kill the prisoner anyway. But Feli's fears were never realized. The Captain returned the gun to his breast pocket and ordered two soldiers to tie the man to a tree.
"He will be left without food or water," the Captain went on. "If he escapes and rejoins us he will be shot on sight." Then, as if to cement his point, he shot a cold glare in Feliciano's direction.
The glare chilled him. The Captain had not given the man life, he had simply prolonged it until dehydration and starvation reeked their havoc.
That night Feli feared returning to his tent. He knew the tension that surrounded the Captain and, as he approached his dwelling, he could almost see a discordant aura that surrounded it. Feli entered quietly and did not lift his head from the ground. If he did not see the Captain, then it would be as if he wasn't there.
Sure enough he entered and not a word or sound was made at him, and he hastily made his way to the bedroll before his eyes could detect any movement. There he sunk down into the fabrics and closed his eyes although he wasn't the least bit tired.
He could hear the tell-tale signs of Ludwig's presence. The papers rustled on the desk and every so often the other would clear his throat but nothing was ever said to him.
And Feli wondered what he feared more: speaking of the incident or not speaking of the incident, and therefore never speaking to the Captain ever again.
Things got better. Or at least, to Feli, they seemed to have the guise like they did. Feli woke the next morning feeling more refreshed than usual, probably because he had fallen asleep so early.
It was a good thing too, as that was the day they finally started moving.
Ludwig marched. It had been an eventless couple of days, and though he did not dislike traveling, he sometimes grew tired of the boredom. He marched from the first rays of light and only constructed his tent in the dusk. Right now it was midmorning and, lacking conversation (as Feliciano had chosen to let him cool off after their last episode and now marched with the healers) he listened in on his soldiers' conversation. It came as no surprise that the first thing he heard was slander.
"...just the Captain's whore."
He knew who they were referring to and Ludwig had prepared for it. He knew bringing the Weaver into his tent would bring about such rumors. He had risked it as he did not have a very high opinion of his army in the first place (but that last incident hadn't helped either). They were good fighters, yes, but they were not good men. And he did not give a damn about what bad men said of him, only respectable men were the ones he could be held accountable to.
And to Ludwig, there was only one respectable man in his whole army, and that person was not a man, nor very respectable either. But still, his eyes filled with rage to hear the scoundrels talk about him that way.
Feliciano was not a whore. He was not an object. The Captain had learned that when they first met and the Healer had refused to use his powers for offensive purposes. Feliciano was leagues away from such an army when it came to integrity. He was the farthest thing from a whore short of an abbot.
And yet Ludwig could not reproach the men for their malignant words. He was a Captain and above them. Because such words were common faire for an army.
Because, he felt if he repudiated them, it would only serve to cement what Feliciano meant to him. And that was something the Captain was afraid to admit. More than having a whore, he was afraid to say he had a friend.
There was a change in the Captain's behavior that night. Feliciano could detect, just under the surface, like watercolors under an oil painting. It wasn't that Ludwig was nicer to him, it was just that, he seemed more receptive. And since he seemed more receptive, Feliciano couldn't help but talk. And what surprised even himself was that he talked about his past.
"You know, I think my grandfather always knew I was a Thender." When Ludwig did not respond he elaborated. "He named me Feliciano. No one questioned him naming a girl a man's name, but then, no one ever questioned grandpa. Feliciano... It has a masculine ending in our tongue, but if you take that off, it's a feminine ending: Felicia. And if you to take that ending off too, it's just Feli."
"Hmm." The Captain made a noncommittal sound.
Feliciano went on, not entirely sure if he was speaking to Ludwig or to himself. "Feli doesn't sound like a boy's or girl's name does it? It could be both. It could be neither."
There was silence for a long time until the Captain muttered something.
"What was that?"
"Ludwig. My brother named me that," he said with a smile and far off look. "It was my brother who found me and gave me that name. We are not related by blood, but he raised me as if we were. Before that... it's all a void," the Captain covered his face. "I can remember nothing of my childhood. Nothing of my parents, or where I came from."
Childhood was such a special and fleeting thing for Feli; It reminded of his innocence, that he had been loved, that he once had a home. But someone who remembered none of that? It was something he could not even comprehend.
"How can that be?" Feli asked.
"How can that be?" Ludwig repeated, almost sardonically. "Look before you. I am living proof as to how it is."
Feliciano was silent. Was the Captain angry with him? Or was this something that went beyond anger?
"Do you think I am a cruel man, Feliciano?"
The question caught him off guard. "No, Captain."
"And yet I am a military captain, does that not have the implications of cruelty?"
"Not if you let it, Captain."
"Then what do you think of me? I have no childhood I can remember. I only know war. For as long as I have known I've been a part of war."
Captain Ludwig was a good man, Feliciano knew, but there was a black void where his heart ought to be. "I think you are a good captain and a good man, Ludwig. But instead, you do not realize that you are good."
Ludwig uncovered his face and looked at him, "What do you mean?"
"It is as if you are unfeeling, Captain. You wait until I sleep until you let yourself sleep. You do not eat until I do. You carry your duties with a rough and steady hand," Feli shuddered, remembering the soldier's botched execution. "I know that you are not, and yet you seem to believe that you are a machine."
Ludwig held a humorless grin through Feliciano's words. "So what? I need to be a strong Captain. They will kill me if they see the slightest weakness. That's how these men are."
Feliciano sighed. He felt bad for Ludwig. But at the same time he was angry at him. But it was not an anger that he could easily point out: it was born out of hopelessness for the Captain. Feli had just bared his heart and the Captain had replied with ignorance.
"I only wish that you would realize Captain," Feli whispered. "That you are not the same as these men." And with that he turned around and sunk into his blanket. He did not want to talk anymore. He could hear the rustling of manuscripts as Ludwig returned to work and a sadness welled up in him so immense that Feli had to bury his head lest the Captain hear his tender sigh.
The Weaver turned over. From this vantage point, Ludwig was able to observe him indiscriminately, free of the bias of facial expressions. The captain noticed that the back was rather slight, not quite that of a man's, and the cheek was that of a woman's, flushed with carmine embarrassment.
Then the other buried his head and Ludwig could not make out the features anymore.
The Captain wondered what might be going through such a head: masculine thoughts or womanly ones? Or perhaps just the thoughts of a person who had found himself in the company of a man as loathsome as the Captain himself.
Ludwig sighed. Self-deffacement would get him nowhere.
He needed to look over his papers. There was an army in the south he would need to defeat.
He opened a map that he had not opened for a long time. His eyes studied the lines. Enemy territory.
But this wasn't just enemy territory. Ludwig's eyes filled with rage. This was the reason why he was with this band of scoundrels and cut throats in the first place. This was why his brother was confined to a chair for the rest of his life. This was the reason why he had cast such a pessimistic view on the world and its fickle inhabitants.
This was the object of Ludwig's hatred, revulsion and revenge. He looked at the words on the map, read them over and over again, incriminating them in his memory like a prisoner in a cell.
This was the city-state of Altemoré.
A/N: Thanks for waiting so long. I admit, I got very distracted in the last month or so. Anyway, next chapter will be coming out soon and will have backstory (yay!) that alludes to some of the things mentioned in this chapter. Also, and this is just an estimate here, but this is about the halfway point for this story.