Chapter Two: Sun and Stars
Escanor opens his eyes and sees a dark ceiling above him. He blinks for a moment as he adjusts to the light, listening carefully. Instead of the soft ground under him, he feels the wood of a table; instead of fresh air, he can tell he is indoors. Yet there is no sound and he senses no danger, so he sits up.
Immediate pain flares through his torso, and Escanor shouts and looks down. His midsection is bandaged, as well as his thigh, a bit of red seeping through the cloth. He frowns, wondering why his magic is not healing him—and how he got here, bandaged up after fighting the boar—and then he hears her voice.
"You're awake." He swings towards it, causing another flash of pain that only annoys him further. Based on how he feels and his size, Escanor surmises that it is late afternoon; plenty enough to take on his attacker yet not cause any serious damage.
But the sight of her stops him. A woman stands and watches him curiously, the golden eyes instantly recognizable. He finally gets a good long look, and he would be lying if he refused to admit she is very, very beautiful: dark hair that frames her face and sweeps over her eyes, a smirk on rose colored lips, her confidence evident in the way she stands and watches him in turn. Any other day, or place, or time Escanor may have been tempted, but now?
"Who are you?" he demands. "What have you done to me?"
She rolls her eyes, an absolutely infuriating gesture, and strolls towards him. "I'll ask the questions," she replies smugly. "Who sent you here?"
Escanor huffs, ready to refuse, but then decides to try to give a little in hopes to gain a little. "The sheriff of Leir hired me to remove the boar. It has been causing problems for the hunters."
Her eyes narrow as she folds her arms. "That's a lie. The sheriff knows better than to mess with me."
"Ah, so you're the witch who will boil my baby-maker." Her expression goes from cool to shocked as Escanor lets loose a great laugh, which turns into a wince as the wounds on his torso and thigh are pulled. "I should have known. So the beast was your pet? You should try a cat."
"That beast was my bodyguard," she huffs. "It was keeping men like you away from here. And now it's dead."
Escanor sighs. "Look, take it up with the sheriff then. Just give me back my knife and get rid of whatever this spell is you have on me and I'll be gone."
He watches as her fingers tap against her arm in thought for a moment. When she doesn't reply, Escanor decides to take a look at his injuries. First, he carefully lifts the bandage on his thigh. It is wrapped well, and he can feel the remnants of some salve underneath, a bit sticky now. The one on his abdomen, however, hurts like a damn, and he winces as he presses gentle fingers against it. He pulls away to see red on the pads of his fingertips, his mouth twisting into a frown.
"I'm not healing," Escanor growls. He glares up at the witch. "What did you do to me?"
"I sealed your magic," she answers. Her gaze is cool, even, not a hint of remorse. "It was unfamiliar to me, so I thought it best to lock it up."
"It wasn't yours to take," he snaps. Looking down, he peels back the bandage to find more blood underneath. "Give it back before I bleed to death."
The witch gives a little snort and walks towards him. "You're not going to bleed to death," she chastises. "You are a dramatic one, aren't you?"
Escanor bristles in offense, but it is cut off when she grabs the bandage and pulls it off with one swipe. "Cheese and crackers, woman!" he shouts, gripping the edge of the table as spots enter his vision. "You could just kill me the regular way!"
He blinks and shakes his head, drawing back when he finds her looking at him strangely. "What now?"
"Did you just say, 'cheese and crackers'?"
Escanor feels his cheeks grow heated. "It's not polite to swear in front of a lady." Her lips twist as she holds back a smile, then looks closely at the wound. "Not that you're much of one," he mutters under his breath.
"You're right," she deadpans back, catching him by surprise.
She does not say a word again as she snaps her fingers and things start sailing across the room. Escanor watches with wide eyes as fresh bandages, a jar of something yellow and thick, and a set of tweezers zoom to where he sits and hover in the air. On the other side of the room, a hand towel jumps up from a drawer and dips itself into a basin of water, then wrings itself out before shooting into the witch's waiting hand.
The warm, wet cloth feels nice, and despite the rough way she removed the cover she is much more gentle as she cleans the cut. With the blood gone he can see the hole that remains from the boar's tusk. Rotten bastard, he thinks to himself, stiffening as her fingertips dance along his abdominals. If she wasn't the cause of all this mess he might have stretched out a bit to give her a better look—who is he kidding, he'd practically be flexing—but the soreness keeps him tense and scared to move.
"I think you'll live, even without the magic," she proclaims. Escanor clears his throat, unsure of what to say.
She takes the jar and opens it before a flat wooden stick flies over in preparation. The witch uses it to scoop out of some of the yellow substance, carefully spreading it over and around the wound, then waves off the items as she begins to press the fresh, folded bandages to his side. Escanor watches with more than a bit of amusement as the items head back to their places around the room, his mustache twitching a bit when the towel rinses itself and hangs to dry and the stick deposits itself into the waste bin.
A long strip winds its way around his body to hold the cotton tightly against him, and the witch steps back to admire her work. Then she places her hands on her hips, her fingers tapping as she looks at him sternly. "Now that that is settled, I want to know who you are, why you're here, and what exactly your magic does," she begins.
"I told you, the sheriff hired me. He wanted the boar gone and—son of a grasshopper!"
She snorts as he presses a hand to the bandage. The wrap had knotted itself a bit too tight, and Escanor puffs out a wincing sound. "Glad you find this funny."
He looks up and they lock eyes. For the first time, her expression is a bit softened and no longer on high alert. The amber color even seems to lighten, a little crease forming underneath with her almost-smile. "What is your name?" she tries again.
"Escanor," he replies. "Now will you tell me yours in kind?"
She opens her mouth immediately to respond, then closes it. He watches as she considers and gives a sigh. "You seem harmless enough. My name is Merlin."
"Merlin." He grins, liking the name. It suits her, he decides: beautiful, but not dainty, both strong and mysterious. "Now that we're friends, perhaps you'll give me back my power?" Escanor jokes.
"No," she replies simply. "I don't trust you."
Escanor's smiles drops. "Look, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already."
"Is that what you are?" she interrupts. "A killer?"
He clears his throat, lifting his chin. "I'm just someone looking for a job."
Her eyebrow twitches and, incredibly, the corner of her mouth rises. "A job? How convenient. I just had an opening."
Escanor frowns suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
Merlin turns and walks away, striding across the room as she sweeps her hand. Once more things begin to move, books and papers gathering themselves into neat stacks, the bottles on the shelves rattling as their lids tighten themselves. Carefully Escanor slides from the table and gingerly tests his ability to stand. The salve is doing its job of numbing the pain from his torso, and other than some of stiffness he can put a bit of weight on the injured leg. "What are you doing?" he calls over the flurry of activity.
"Packing." Merlin smiles at him over her shoulder before turning. "I need to go to Vaizel, which is in the kingdom of Liones. I was going to take my boar as my guard—"
Escanor snorts. "You use a giant boar as your escort?"
Merlin lifts her chin defiantly. "Do you think anyone who saw him would have given me trouble?" She smirks as he inclines his head to concede the point and continues, "Since you so rudely did away with the poor beast, I'll take you instead."
"What makes you think I'll go to Liones of all places with you?" he exclaims.
"You owe me."
Holding up a palm, Escanor scoffs, "First of all, your poor beast left two holes in me. So if anything, I should be getting compensation." Merlin rolls her eyes, making his skin heat, and he grits his teeth. "Second, I don't work for favors, and I pick my own jobs. You can't just tell me I'm going with you. Doesn't work like that."
"Fine," she sighs. The items are nearly packed into her large carpetbag, and with a flick of her fingers the remaining materials lay themselves carefully down, bringing the room to peace for their negotiation. "I'm willing to hire you properly. You did kill my boar, so you know how to fight. You'll be of some use."
Escanor laughs and shakes his head. "I don't think you're understanding me. I don't want to work for you."
"Don't be so difficult," she scolds him. "You said you needed work. I have a perfectly good position open. What else will you be doing with your time?"
"Not going to Liones, for starters." He looks around, now truly aggravated. "Where is my shirt, and my things? I'm leaving."
Merlin purses her lips. "I'll pay you ten silvers."
"Not happening." He spots his shirt hanging neatly over the back of a chair, and carefully limps over towards it.
"Thirty silvers."
"No."
"I'll give you back your powers."
Escanor pauses, his head through the hole in the shirt, and looks back at Merlin. She stands defiantly, one hand on a hip. "That's not yours to bargain with," he growls.
The silence between them is tight, nearly humming, before Merlin speaks. "Get me to Vaizel safely," she says again, "and I'll return your powers to you and pay you forty silvers. That is more than fair."
He grits his teeth as he carefully pulls his arms through the sleeves of the shirt. It is a lot of money, more than he would hope to make in a year around these parts. He could use it to buy a place of his own, some secluded plot of land where he could find something to do and just live, instead of being bothered, instead of being chased out of every town and every kingdom. A place to be alone.
But Vaizel? That's one town he had sworn never to go near again.
"I'll get you to the town limits," he counters. "I won't go there myself. When we reach Vaizel Road you'll pay me my money. But you will give me my power now."
Merlin shakes her head. "Impossible. I don't know a thing about you. I'm holding on to that power whether you agree or not."
Angry now, he yanks down the hem of his shirt and stomps towards her, as best as he can with his current injuries. "You listen here, you witch—"
"So it's not polite to curse in front of women, but you can call one a witch?" she snaps.
Escanor pulls back, halfway across the room. She's right, it's not becoming of a knight or a prince, let alone a gentleman. He stands up tall and nods his head slightly in apology. But something about the way the light bounces in Merlin's eyes makes him feel like she's half teasing. "Fine," he bites out. "I'll do it."
Merlin smiles and returns to her packing as Escanor returns to the chair, grabbing the back and leaning his weight on it. His quiet travels through north Britannia have taken a sharp turn for the worse.
The crickets chirp a lively little rhythm, signaling a warm night, but Escanor builds the fire up anyway in their little camp. He looks in annoyance at Merlin, who is eating some of the rabbit he caught before they stopped for the night. In two days she has not said much, but neither has he. No reason to speak to a thief and a captor.
That's not fair, he chastises himself. With a huff in annoyance at his own logical brain—can I just sulk in peace for once?—Escanor pulls the bandage away from his torso to inspect the healing wound.
It's come along very well, his skin sewing itself together nicely even without his healing powers. The substance Merlin provided to go under the bandage did wonders for the pain and stiffness, and seemed to help the process along. There had to have been some kind of magic involved; although Escanor would normally be apprehensive, now he is glad for it. What should have taken at least a week to begin closing has taken little more than a day, and with confidence he removes the gauze and tosses it into the fire.
"Do you need any help with that?"
Escanor gives a bit of a scowl over the fire. "You did enough, thank you."
Merlin does not answer. Incredibly, he feels his face begin to heat. That wasn't fair either; she did give him the ointment to help treat the wound, even though it was her animal that caused the injury in the first place, and she was the one who sealed up his power…
Shaking his head, Escanor replaces his shirt and stretches out on his cloak. The stars over Britannia are as familiar as always, and he thinks of the lessons from the tutors of his youth about the Warrior, the Bear, the Maiden, the Dragon. His favorite, the Lion, won't appear until spring is further on its way, so he closes his eyes to picture the five stars that form the body and head. The legend tells of a brave man who slayed a great Lion that had lured many others to their death, bringing its heart to the woman he loved and winning her hand. The brightest star in the constellation was even named Heart of the King, one that is easy to spot and designate east.
He smiles at the story. It was always the one he liked best, partly because of the brave warrior, and partly because his tutor did not. Foolish nonsense, it had been called: imagination and fairy tales were not becoming for a prince, after all.
"What are you looking at?" Merlin asks.
Escanor tilts his face to the side to look at her. "Just observing the constellations. Making sure we are still pointed south."
Merlin uses a handkerchief to wipe her bowl, and then stashes it into her bag. "We'll be coming along to civilization soon. We'll need to be careful."
"We'll be fine," he assures her.
A snort across the camp makes his eyebrow twitch. "How long has it been since you have been so far north?"
Escanor considers. "I've been in this kingdom about a year or so. It's pretty big, so I've been travelling around. Why?"
"Many changes have come to Liones since you've been away," she replies.
With a frown he props himself up on an elbow, turning to look at Merlin properly. She sits neatly on a cushion on the ground, her eyes focused on a small orb sitting in her lap. The warm evening has allowed her to also remove her cloak, left now in a long sleeved tunic and leggings, her legs tucked up underneath her. Merlin makes no sign of acknowledgment, but Escanor is beginning to get used to that.
"What makes you think I'm from Liones?" he asks.
Merlin sweeps her hand over the orb as if turning a page. "You're a knight. Most are from Liones."
Escanor's mustache twitches as he tries not to smirk. "What makes you think I'm a knight, then?"
Finally her eyes rise to his, and his insides give a not-entirely-unpleasant twist to find her expression amused, if not sardonic. "You know how to fight with and without a weapon, you know how to survive on your own, you're educated, you have no family ties, you have strength and magic, you—"
"Okay, okay," he huffs, rolling back over.
"And you follow a gentleman's code, Mister Cheese-and-Crackers."
Escanor chuckles in spite of himself. "Fine, you've figured me out. But I'm not from Liones."
He feels Merlin shift, and when he peeks, the orb is away. "Where are you from, then?"
Returning her dry smile, Escanor replies, "Why don't you tell me where you're from first?"
He smirks when her smug expression drops, her body going very still. "Another secret then?" he continues. "All right. I'll tell when you do, how about that?"
Merlin turns away, pointedly ignoring him, and Escanor grins. He sighs as he settles in, laying his arms behind his head comfortably. The crickets continue their song which soothes his nerves, and he is soon to ready to fall asleep.
He is nearly there when Merlin says quietly, "I would tell you, but I doubt you'd have ever heard of it. The place I'm from is—gone. Has been, for a long time."
Escanor's eyes snap open, falling on the Maiden in the sky. His heart is beating too fast, so he clears his throat to cover the strange impact of her confession. "That's fine," he answers finally. "Where I was born is gone too."
She does not respond, and Escanor feels a bit relieved. For a moment he was sure she would call his bluff, and then he'd either have to lie, or tell the truth—both terrible options. Without anything else to discuss, he closes his eyes, but sleep evades him for a long time.