The stars continue to burn as destiny is rewritten… See the first installment for all disclaimers/warnings. You know, it's amazing what scrapping a chapter almost entirely and starting over from a different angle does to destroy writer's block…
-- His Duty --
The years of training had ingrained the procedure so completely into memory that there was almost no thought behind the actions anymore. He rose from slumber and immediately began strapping on his uniform, because that was the way he started each morning after he was old enough to handle weapons.
In truth, he was considered little more than a weapon by his superiors, more a tool than a human. For those fortunate enough to be born into the Holy Kingdom, all that hailed from other countries and continents were thought to be beneath their station. It was Harmonian birthright to be superior to most people, just as his heritage dictated that he was a third-class citizen… a fancy term for what amounted to slavery.
His only worth in their collective eyes was the talent that was even more firmly a part of him than his training… an ability his people possessed that even the highborn Harmonians did not.
He could control the Mantors.
It was a talent those above him often scorned, ridiculed and despised. 'So your kind bond with bugs,' they jeered, the basic sentiment behind their words always the same no matter how eloquently or bluntly they phrased it. 'How fitting; insects should always stick with insects…'
He refused to let their mockery unbalance him, keeping his reactions silenced behind grinding teeth and veiled glares. Their comments meant nothing, he assured himself, just the Harmonians' way of hiding the truth.
They were jealous, all of them, of a power they could never truly have for themselves.
Though he had bonded with his Mantor in the Crystal Valley, had gone through years of drills and exercises, it was not a talent that could be drilled into any soldier or slave. Only his tribe… only the people of Le Buque had the natural ability. Even the noblest bishops could never tame the race of intelligent arthropods; no amount of training or studying could bestow the gift unto someone who didn't share his clan's bloodline.
It was the only thing he possessed that had not been 'granted' to him by 'Harmonian mercy'. Even his name was Harmonian, bestowed upon him by some official rather than a tribal name chosen by his parents.
The ability to ride was the only shred of ancestral identity Franz had.
His Mantor partner was someone he had a chance to control, compared to how Harmonia dictated he should live. He had been the one to choose Ruby, rather than being paired up with the bug using a strict system: another aspect of his cultural heritage that couldn't be bent completely to their superiors' whim.
Practically all other facets of his lifestyle were managed by the Harmonians. Even the clothes he was buckling on now was provided by his commanders, a standard-issue uniform for all Le Buque soldiers.
The regulation jumpsuit was a dusky shade of gray, its makers more concerned with functionality and ease of movement than comfort. Over this fastened a thin breastplate, the forged metal shot through with lines of silver to break up the dark blue field. The colors symbolized his allegiance to Harmonia, the dreary hues illustrating the low standing of his kind in the Holy State.
Had he any real choice, he probably would have developed an intense hatred for the thing. The breastplate could get very uncomfortable at times, and the metal cuffs on his arms were tighter than he would have liked.
But, in truth, Franz cared little either way. At least they were able to use armor and weapons, even if they were in defense of the country that enslaved them; many third-class citizens could only dream of such treatment.
…There was always the slim hope that matters might improve. They were useful to Harmonia; they served a purpose other than cheap labor. They had worth! Maybe someday that would get more recognition, earn the respect they deserved…!
(…Why do we have to earn their respect?)
The thought was immediately shoved to the back of his mind, just as he had learned to do with all similar notions. Such concepts were useless to consider, much as he privately agreed with them.
…No, he couldn't afford to agree. There was little he could do about his current lot in life, so to entertain such daydreams was not only a waste of time, but dangerous as well. He had to accept the way things were for now… and wait for a chance to change matters.
Not just for his sake, but for all of Le Buque as well.
-------
Shiff… rustle, rustle…
Though the sound came from some distance outside his chambers, it was still sufficiently loud enough to stir the sleeper. The young man instinctively turned his back in the direction of the noise, burrowing deeper into the warmth of his cot.
The rustling outside grew louder, but drew no further reaction from the figure bundled up in the bed. There was nothing further to be done other than wait for it to pass. At length, the clamor grew muted, moving away and allowing other, more familiar and unobtrusive sounds of the waking community to reach his ears.
Unfortunately, it left two niggling problems in its wake. One: his unwilling acknowledgement of the commotion meant he was partly awake, a section of his mind caught somewhere between vigilance and lethargy. The other…
"Get up, you slacker!"
…The other was that his partner was fully awake.
(…Damn.)
He tried lying perfectly still for a moment, aware the slightest movement would tip off his companion to his current not-quite-awake-but-not-zonked-either state. It didn't work.
"I know you're awake, brat, I can hear you breathing." Impatience made his voice harsher -- though the constant complaining made it seem like he was incapable of any other moods. "Get moving! You can't lie there all day!"
Grunting, the now more-awake-than-asleep man began fumbling along the side of his bed without raising his head from where it was planted. Throwing stuff wouldn't shut up his partner -- no, that was far more likely to make him get louder, bad idea… -- Instead, his blind groping sought out the pile of clothes he'd dropped there the previous night.
His companion was entirely unhelpful, grumbling and spitting insults from where he leaned against the doorframe. Familiarity enabled him to tune out the ranting now that he was more aware: he'd heard this all before, just another morning ritual.
At last his grasping fingers closed over fabric, and he grunted again while pushing upright, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Clad only in a zebra-striped yellow shirt, his body showed the toning of a fighter, already marked in a couple of places by lighter lines of not fully healed scar tissue. Bleary amber eyes blinked hazily at the article of clothing held out before him, still foggy mind taking a few seconds to process that, yes, these indeed were his pants.
A strange noise that most closely resembled somebody clearing their throat caused him to snap his head up and gaze intently at his companion. Clarity returned to his narrowed eyes, so swiftly it was like the golden lenses had never been clouded at all.
"Gods, cover up, will you?!"
Pause. The warrior bowed his head, both in partly mocking deference toward the speaker and to hide the faint smirk that played briefly over his sharp features. Without a word he shook his pants once to ensure nothing had crawled inside during the night, then pulled them on.
His partner muttered something unintelligible but undoubtedly insulting. The comment went ignored by the youth as he continued the ritual, giving each article a good shake before strapping it into place. A short leather jacket dyed dark saffron was shrugged on, fixing the sole clasp at the collar before adding the much thicker chestguard and metal breastplate. The padded black gloves had the fingers cut off out of necessity: it was the only way he could hope to manipulate more delicate objects while he had them on.
"…and if we stay here much longer, that wench will just add another day's expenses onto your tab, and we both know…"
"I know, I know." That last comment registered despite his efforts to block the other's constant complaining off, though his face remained impassive. He stood and stepped into his boots, bending over to give the stiff leather a few sharp tugs into place, not even bothering to look over to his companion as he responded, "Don't worry, I'll handle it."
"Feh. You're just as bad as the bear sometimes…"
That caused another near-smirk to tug at one corner of the warrior's mouth. Little remarks like that allowed him to briefly acknowledge certain suspicions that danced in the darker corners of his mind. Occasionally he wondered if this gigantic responsibility he'd been handed wasn't the noble act of trust or honor he'd originally thought it to be than simply a shifty dodge, 'passing the potch', as it were…
He shook his head quickly, absently running a hand over his spiky crop of bronze locks while pushing the notion back into the shadows where it belonged. Nothing to be done about it now, either way: he still intended to make the most of matters regardless of the truth behind things.
"I'll handle it," he said simply, striding toward the doorway.
As his fingers closed round the ebony handle of the massive sword, the intricately crafted visage that dominated the silver hilt distorted into a grimace.
"Wonderful. How many times have I heard THAT before…?"
(Not half as much as I've heard this same old tune,) the fighter thought, but he didn't offer that or anything else in response to the weapon's bickering.
Instead, he merely hefted the impressive blade, reversed it, and slid it into the scabbard resting across his back. This had the unfortunate side effect of positioning the sword's hilt directly behind his ear, ensuring he'd hear every last mutter and quip from his partner, but he'd adjusted to this little problem.
Besides, not only was it easier on him physically to place the weapon's weight on his back, but it helped avoid incidents where his weapon's ranting drew unwanted attention. At least this way the blade was far more reasonable about keeping his voice low in public places… didn't shut him up completely, but that seemed like a lost cause.
Adjusting the straps on his breastplate, the swordsman considered his options. It was true he was running low on funds: as his partner had pointed out, there was barely enough potch in his satchel to cover the night's stay.
They could try some fundraising with the local monster population, but that was risky work alone: he had a few vials of medicine, but those wouldn't help if he was too wounded to apply them… Talking swords only worked as partners to a certain extent.
From what he'd heard around town the previous afternoon, however, he gathered that someone of importance had just arrived as well. Some 'Bishop' or other revered figure from the holy kingdom, here on some business that they just might need a few more hired hands with…
…At any rate, it certainly wouldn't hurt to try finding out more. Hunching his shoulders once to get the still-grumbling Star Dragon Sword on his back to settle its weight more comfortably, Edge opened the door and headed for the Inn's exit.
-------
Patrolling the boundaries of Le Buque typically gave Franz time to reflect. It wasn't that he didn't take defense of his homeland seriously; however, the village's unique layout provided enough of a natural deterrent to most would-be threats.
But, then, suspending practically the whole town off the sides of the canyon tended to put off pretty much all types of visitors.
It was understandable that outsiders were generally unnerved by the unique structure of Le Buque. After all, they lacked the advantage of flight. They didn't have mounts they trusted implicitly with their lives.
Ruby thrummed gently beneath him. The Mantor's multicolored wings were a blur at both edges of Franz's vision; he didn't have to turn his head to picture the way light caught and refracted in the translucent panes.
Outsiders simply didn't understand. How many times had he heard others commenting on how hideous the Mantors looked? Though he always took offense at such ignorance, at the same time, a small part of Franz couldn't help but pity them.
They couldn't possibly understand because they would never be able to experience this feeling. Such moments of bliss were reserved solely for his clan.
Franz tilted his head back, parting his lips just enough to taste the crisp mountain air. The wind tugged at his short-cropped hair, and he imagined he could almost feel its frustration at having so little to play with. If he let it grow out a bit more, the breeze could play with the ebony locks, setting them to dancing round his face.
…But, if he let it grow much longer than this, Harmonian law dictated that he must start wearing the bulky headgear most of his comrades currently sported. After all, they couldn't have their warriors struggling with stray strands getting into their eyes in the middle of a battle, could they…?
His mouth pressed into a thin line, the moment spoiled by the stray thought. Even up here, he remained bound by the rules set by unenlightened officials. Unable to fathom something they couldn't experience for themselves, they always found ways to ruin them instead.
Ruby hummed questionably, sensing the shift in his rider's mood. Franz shook his head and gently caressed the Mantor behind the crest of its horns, offering wordless solace.
"…Fra……!"
The constant buzz of wings half-drowned out his comrade's shout, but Franz caught the warning anyway. A swift glance to his right revealed the scout swooping closer, yelling something mostly lost to the winds and gesturing with his spear; a glance downward confirmed his suspicions.
Several people were approaching the canyon path leading up to Le Buque's front gates. Not a large band of travelers, from what he could tell from this distance; there appeared to be only a hand's count or so.
Their lack of numbers was far from comforting. Innocuous visitors such as traders from Caleria generally arrived in much larger parties. The mountains were infested with monsters, so it was common practice for merchants passing through the area to travel in droves.
Franz kept one hand pressed firmly against Ruby's crest, flashing a few rapid hand signals to the other riders. Wordlessly he gestured for the scout who had first spotted the intruders and another soldier hovering to his immediate left to follow him down to investigate: all others in the area should continue their patrols for now.
Three mounted riders should be enough to handle these new arrivals, he figured… whether they turned out to be friendly or not.
A shared nod between the trio, then they urged their mounts downward, swooping down to intercept their unexpected guests.
Franz studied the group during their descent. While his training demanded he never write anything off as unthreatening before having better knowledge of the situation, he couldn't help a bit of a mental sneer as he got a closer look at the intruders.
From what he could tell, this was a ragtag team of adventurers… mercenaries, his mind offered while taking in their appearance. The most striking thing he noticed was the surprising variety present in such a small band. There was nothing particularly unusual about any of the individual members; merely the fact they were together.
Their approach didn't go unnoticed; Franz would have been stunned if they had been missed, since the Mantors weren't precisely silent flyers. The travelers fell back accordingly, giving the riders ample room without trying to flee.
Following usual procedure, his two comrades fell in on either side, hovering just slightly behind Ruby. Franz straightened as best he could, glaring down his nose at the interlopers.
"Travelers, what business do you have in Le Buque?"
The six glanced at each other before a man in patchwork leathers stepped forward.
"Well, let's see…" A grin that was entirely too easy and friendly spread across the ruffian's face, and he began, "See, my friends and I are just passing through these parts looking for information, and we'd heard that…"
"You won't find anything here," Franz interrupted tersely. "I suggest you leave quickly. We don't have time to be fooling around with your kind…"
The meant-to-be-disarming smile faded from the man's face, replaced by a faint scowl.
"Hey, now…"
"Our business here is of no concern to you," interrupted one of his companions, stepping forward. "I suggest you return to your posts."
Ruby let out a low, threatening rumble; the other Mantors echoed the warning as their riders shifted their grip on their pikes. Franz narrowed his eyes, studying the new spokesman for the group. The man regarded him calmly with his single good eye, seemingly unfazed by the darkening moods of the guards.
The rest of his team was not quite so unaffected. The lone female was fingering the hilt of her sheathed blade; the ruffian who had spoken first palmed his sais. Another man clad in purple removed his hands from his pockets and cracked his knuckles, muttering something that caused the ruffian to shoot him a nasty look. At the rear of the group, a lithe blonde hefted a dangerous-looking crossbow that nearly dwarfed him, while a tan-skinned child beside him drew out a dagger.
The presence of the latter did little to throw Franz off. While he made a mental note to try and avoid seriously injuring the lad, defending his homeland against any threats ultimately took precedence over the wellbeing of any strange child.
…Besides, Harmonian law was no easier on children than any other potential threats. In light of that fact, perhaps death in battle would be preferable.
"Leave," he commanded, tone sharp and final. "We have more important matters to attend to than dealing with your kind, but…"
"That's a problem, because we're not leaving."
Franz's mouth hardened into a thin line. Ruby and the other Mantors buzzed angrily again, beady eyes glowing.
"Fine then." Signaling curtly to his comrades, he leveled the head of his spear in the one-eyed man's direction. "In accordance with Le Buque law, you and your party are being taken in for questioning. Turn over your weapons and other possessions and…"
"You're making a mistake." The dark-haired leader drew out his sword as he declared this, still collected and calm despite the worsening situation.
"Odd thing to hear from you," muttered one of the other guards under his breath.
Overhearing his comrade's remark, Franz almost smirked momentarily, but his face was stern as he moved his hand in silent signal. Feeling Ruby tense further under his fingers, knowing his sign was received, he took in a deep breath, bracing himself.
"Consider this your last warning; we won't hesitate to kill you if necessary to protect our land."
A sable eyebrow arched, the dark pupil beneath it shining with bemusement.
"…And since when was this your land?"
The detached fashion in which it was posed belied the implied insult. Despite himself -- despite recognizing how leading the knowing query was -- Franz bristled. It was a measure of control not to spit back some acerbic retort; instead he gripped his pike a bit harder and silently cut down the man's chances of surviving this skirmish.
A flick of his raised wrist was all the impetus needed for his comrades to spring from their seats, following Franz's own lead. Nailing the dismount perfectly, he dropped into a defensive stance, noting with grim amusement the surprise flickering over the faces of all but one of the intruders.
If they had time to consider, surely the brighter ones would come to realize why they chose to take to the ground. The high, narrow walls of the canyon made maneuvering in midair more trouble than it was worth, especially when faced with so few opponents. With their steeds blocking the way to Le Buque, their riders could easily corner and deal with these fools, without fear of anyone slipping past.
The only one who didn't appear to be taken off guard by this move was the apparent leader. His expression remained maddeningly composed as Franz closed the distance between them, parrying his first thrust with a smooth sweep of his own weapon. Though he fell back, it was just enough to deflect the force of the blow before countering with a swipe that whistled past the younger fighter's ear.
Meanwhile, the other riders had already picked out their marks and led off, forcing the woman and the ruffian who'd first addressed them back. The latter grinned nervously while catching the pole with both sais, just barely managing to arrest its progress forward.
"Seriously, can't we talk about this?!" he grated out. "You're gonna regret this once you figure out that…"
"Save the chatter for someone who cares, Ace!" spat the purple-clad member just before his fist met the cheek of the aggressor. As the soldier staggered back, he shook his head and added blithely, "If they exist…"
Too harried at the moment to think up a suitably biting retort, Ace settled for a swift glare at his partner before pressing the attack.
Behind them, Lulu finished chanting a call to the spirits and raised his dagger to the skies, letting the magical current ripple from the glowing rune on the back of his hand to the blade. Without waiting for the wisps of green-tinted energy to settle completely around the weapon he turned and lunged for the creep hounding Queen. Keeping his sights low, he darted in and slashed the soldier's leg, slicing through the deep canvas and drawing blood.
His victim screamed and stumbled, and a well-timed push from Queen sent the soldier sprawling. A bolt crashed against the blade of his weapon, knocking it from his loosened grasp. Queen leveled her sword at the hapless guard's throat, stepping onto his chest to keep him from rising, and flashed a smile at both child and marksman without taking her attention away from her fallen foe.
"You're lucky we're not really enemies," she remarked lightly. "We'd get in trouble for killing you, so just be a dear and stay put, hmm?"
Her comment had little effect on the man, who ignored the coy implications she was not so subtly piling on. He turned his face away, and when Queen followed his gaze her own eyes soon widened in comprehension.
"Get down!" she shouted, pivoting and tackling a startled Lulu to the ground.
A burst of white-hot energy sliced through the space where they had been standing, cleanly missing the flattened figure of their felled opponent. For Queen and Lulu it was a much narrower miss; searing heat spread across the swordswoman's back with its passing, and she ground her teeth together, sincerely grateful her clothes left little skin exposed to the blistering energy.
Jacques was not so lucky.
Though the marksman heard Queen's warning, and attempted to move out of the way, this time the weight and size of his weapon worked against him. The blast struck his side and sent the slender blonde flying into the canyon wall. His crossbow clattered to the ground, followed shortly by the stunned mercenary.
"Jacques--!"
Lulu's scream caught the others' attention, and Ace cast an alarmed glance over his shoulder. His opponent tried to take advantage of his distraction, only to find his spear caught again in the prongs of his sais. Growling through clenched teeth, Ace shoved him backwards, then reserved his weapon and followed with a punch to the jaw.
Then he was scrambling to get out of the way as another beam of searing heat arced in his direction. Skidding to a halt a safe distance away, he snapped his head around to see the Mantor who'd launched the attack cut off the blast.
Though Ace wasn't too familiar with the Mantor species, it hardly took an expert on the giant bugs to guess that the fact all three were tense and buzzing lowly wasn't a good sign.
"Hey, we need to do something 'bout them!" he called back to Joker, turning to see the older man glaring at the cluster of insects.
"Already on it," came the grunted response.
Tendrils of crimson energy curled and crackled around the magician's clenched fist, the Fire Rune embedded just underneath the tanned flesh responding to its wielder's will. The guard recovered from the blow to his jaw and started toward him, only to be met by Ace blocking his path. The ruffian smirked, cruelly, and brandished his sais again.
A short distance away, the other soldier stood and moved towards the other mercenaries. Queen interposed herself between the approaching grunt and Lulu, nodding sharply in the youth's direction.
"Lulu, go check on Jacques."
Lulu opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and nodded instead, turning and dashing over to where the marksman lay. He fumbled for his satchel as he ran, pulling out a vial of medicine right as he reached his partner's side. Helping the stunned blonde sit upright, he offered the healing draught with shaking hands.
Franz was only dimly aware of the battle's progress, too caught up in his face-off with Geddoe to notice. He'd heard the Mantors firing, and sensed Ruby was nearly charged for his own attack. It was tempting to give a signal and move, letting his partner take care of his opponent; pride kept him from doing just that.
This man had no right to judge or make such nasty comments concerning his homeland. Maybe it was true that Harmonia occupied the land, but they didn't own its people!
(…Just the right to treat them like slaves, to ship us around to their pleasing…)
Even while warding off his furious assault, his foe retained his cool demeanor. His single good eye seemed to bore into Franz, and he couldn't shake the lingering impression that this stranger could read more than just his moves. There was a glimmer of something resembling understanding in that black abyss -- something his enemy shouldn't have any right to, in Franz's own mind.
Fury fueled his relentless assault, but also made it a bit less effective. Time and again his spearpoint was turned aside, missing its mark in the stranger's chest.
What made it more maddening was how he failed to capitalize on the seeming ease with which he parried each of the younger warrior's attacks. He deflected most of the lunges, sidestepping the ones he couldn't stop, yet save for a few cuts along the thicker parts of his jumpsuit and a few new nicks in his armor Franz was unharmed.
For some reason, the sable-haired stranger refused to deal a crippling blow. He could have felled the guardsman with relative ease, yet chose not to.
…And Franz couldn't shake the feeling that this was deliberate, that his enemy wanted him to be aware of this.
Snarling, he brought his pike whistling down in a risky maneuver that forced his opponent to step backward, and raised his hand to signal his partner.
Suddenly the air behind him warmed, shooting to a blistering degree that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Though he was no expert, Franz had enough combat experience to recognize the telltale signs of an impending spell, even if he had no way of countering it.
The explosion was centered some distance away, but Franz was unfortunate enough to be caught at the very edge of its range. He pitched forward, unable to brace against the sheer force of the firestorm raging behind, his attempt to scream a warning rewarding him with a mouthful of dirt. For a few terrible seconds, the world was reduced to the roar of flames in his ears, the pain of his hitting the ground nothing compared to the sudden fear clutching at his heart.
"…R-R…" Choking, he spat out the grime and blood rising in his mouth and wrenched his head about, ignoring his shoulder's protests at the movement. "Ruby--!"
The Mantors lay where they had been blown aside by the explosion, a pile of twitching limbs and charred wings. From what Franz could see, there didn't appear to be any major damage done; the insects were hardy creatures, their carapaces able to withstand more punishment than a single high-level fire spell.
That knowledge didn't comfort Franz in the least. With a growl he moved to stand only to be greeted by a blade leveled at his neck.
"Stay down," came the quiet command.
He glared hotly up at his unaffected opponent. Fingers twitched against the dirt, itching for the spear lying just out of reach or any sort of weapon that he could bury in the one-eyed man's bare neck.
The sounds of combat had died out by then, and he heard the scuff of approaching footsteps long before any of the other invaders stepped into his line of vision. The female appeared first, eyeing Franz with a smirk playing along her lips.
"That takes care of all of them!" the ruffian announced brightly, coming up and clapping an arm across the swordswoman's shoulders. This earned him a glare until he removed the offending limb, moving to rub the back of his head instead. "Now, what're we gonna do with these guys…?"
"…We'll have to ask them," replied his captor, raising his head and inclining his chin slightly forward.
Blinking, Franz squirmed uncomfortably and looked back toward Le Buque, feeling his heart sink when he recognized the familiar designs of Harmonian armor. There wasn't even any relief at the thought that these intruders wouldn't reach the village unchallenged, for he couldn't ignore how unalarmed they appeared by this new obstacle.
The more heavily armed footsoldiers were preceded by a less familiar figure; Franz only knew who it was thanks to his recent arrival in Le Buque. The most striking thing about his appearance was the metallic mask he wore, shaped in the fierce likeness of a bird. Franz privately supposed that the features hidden behind that foreboding guise were just as plain and unremarkable as the rest of his drably colored attire.
"It seems we've found the source of the commotion," the masked man noted dispassionately. Taking in the scene with no sign of alarm, he turned shortly toward the dark-haired man and commented, "Though it appears you have the situation well in hand. You are…?"
The leader of the intruders stood silent for a moment, then sheathed his sword and straightened. He didn't give Franz the impression that his guard was down, however; instead, he almost seemed to be put further on edge as he regarded the reinforcements.
"…I am Geddoe, Captain of the Twelfth Unit of the Southern Frontier Defense Force. My team and I are here on orders to investigate matters concerning the Flame Champion and the Fire Bringer."
The masked man nodded in recognition, and Franz felt his blood turn to ice at the blunt announcement. Why hadn't the fool thought to mention that earlier?! It would have saved them all this trouble, and spared his comrades from this embarrassment…
"I see." The implacable golden gaze rested briefly on the fallen Franz. "It's safe to let them through."
"I didn't catch your name…"
"It wasn't offered." Concealed eyes fixed back upon Geddoe's inscrutable face. "I didn't request reinforcements, but you may stay in Le Buque as long as you wish, so long as you don't disobey my orders."
"…Of course, bishop."
With that issue apparently settled, the masked bishop nodded calmly at the mercenary captain, then turned and signaled wordlessly to the soldiers behind him. The guards saluted and diffused throughout the canyon, several marching past to take their posts at the base while others headed back to the village gates.
None bothered to offer assistance to the recovering riders or their Mantors. Franz shook his head to clear out the last of the fog, then found himself confronted by a leather-clad hand. With a barely restrained snarl, he lurched to his feet, deliberately ignoring his opponent's offer.
Geddoe took this refusal without comment, silently watching as the younger warrior stomped over to check on his mount. Then he turned to check on his team. Jacques was leaning heavily against Joker's shoulder, but seemed mostly recovered. At least he had regained enough strength to heft his crossbow, which rested once more across his back.
Still, there was no need for anyone to point out that they should seek out the local inn.
Knowing this, Geddoe turned and started up the path leading to Le Buque, fully aware the others would follow without being told.
Franz watched them leave, glowering over the crouching Ruby's folded wings. The injured Mantor rumbled, and he ran a calming hand along the ridges of his scorched carapace, hardly comforted by the lightness of his wounds.
Just because these mercenaries were on the same side, didn't mean he appreciated their presence. They were just someone else to be tolerated, much like the Harmonians. Like it or not, he couldn't deal with them without consequences…
So he settled for glaring, and silently promising to find some other way to take revenge on these interlopers.