Hey people! Back after a break! Nothing to say here (save "thank you" to readers), so...
It's...
"SHOWTIME!"
Chapter Seventeen
Roads Lost and Roads Found
Village in southernmost part of Russia, Asia. Daylight.
Yunsung and Mitsurugi walked into the village, both of them quiet, both of them looking about themselves to see whether there were any other traces of the being they sought. Neither Mitsurugi nor Yunsung knew whether the creatures that had attacked them yesterday had been sent by Taki, but creatures such as those did not just exist or come out of nowhere- someone had sent them shambling down that road with a purpose, and Mitsurugi thought he knew what purpose it was. He only wished he was wrong. Sighing, he stopped and clapped Yunsung on the back.
" Yunsung," he said, and the younger Korean man turned to face him, " let's find an inn and rest here."
" But it's still daylight," Yunsung protested. His face, as always, was immobile and impartial to the proceedings, as if removed from them entirely. Mitsurugi was still amazed at Yunsung's amazing cool-headedness.
" Always rest in a town when you can," Mitsurugi said. " A night out on the road is not as rejuvenating as a night in a town is. Out on the road, you have to worry about being attacked by thieves or bandits, and your sleep is light and troubled; but inside a town, where the guards and the populace itself will protect you, your sleep can be deep and healing." Mitsurugi moved his finger up and pointed at the burn-marks on Yunsung's skin where the unclean thing's acidic blood had touched him. " Also, I do not like the looks of those scars, and I wish to get some information in the town about creatures such as the ones we fought. I believe I know what they are called, and if I am correct, I think I may be able to find something to remove the scars on your neck." Turning towards the town, he said, " So let's find an inn."
Yunsung nodded, and the two set off down the path. As they entered the town, and the sights and sounds of a market place met them (which struck Yunsung as odd; the road they were on was small and little-used, and they had passed no crossroads, so it made no sense for a market town to be here; they were almost always near crossroads or on large merchant roads), Mitsurugi walked up to a nearby merchant and said something in a tongue Yunsung had never heard before. When the man shook his head in the universal gesture of negation, Mitsurugi said something else, again in a different language. Though Yunsung did not know much about foreign languages (he only spoke his own native Korean and a smattering of Japanese, the latter being taught as a matter of course to those in the training schools of Korea so that they, in the heat of battle, could identify Japanese officers or those of high rank by the way others addressed them, useful in finding targets to assassinate or take hostage), he thought that this language was Mandarin Chinese. Again the man shook his head, but then, a look of inspiration coming to him, the merchant took out a small bottle of ink and, dipping a small brush in it, wrote something down on a small sheet of paper. Mitsurugi looked at it, then smiled and nodded at the man, who seemed pleased with his own genius. Taking the small brush from the man, Mitsurugi dipped it and wrote something on the paper too. The man nodded, wrote something down, then pointed off in the distance somewhere. Mitsurugi bowed to him (which pleased the merchant) and gave him a coin (which pleased him even more). Then Mitsurugi headed off. Yunsung, who had followed the exchange with much interest (though it didn't show on his face; the merchant, later, talking with his friends, described the polite Japanese samurai's companion as "dead-faced, a man who was deaf and dumb"), walked along behind him and said, in Korean, " What language did you write in?"
Mitsurugi, lost in his own thoughts, was startled out of them and said, " Hmm?"
Yunsung, not perturbed in the slightest, merely repeated, " What language did you write in?"
Mitsurugi nodded his head and said, " Oh, that. The language I wrote in was Chinese- it's a standard language for much of this area. However, because Chinese has so many different dialects, many people can't understand the Mandarin I speak. The written language, however, is the same throughout, and so can be used to communicate with almost anybody in this region. Why do you ask?"
" Curious," Yunsung replied. Mitsurugi, who was busy working out the merchant's written directions in his head, nodded and continued walking. Yunsung, behind him, turned to his own thoughts as well, following the samurai's lead through the bustling streets of the town.
Finally, the duo reached a large, two story building, one with a rectangular sign hanging over it, showing a large metal hook biting into a particularly delicious looking apple, looking for all the world like some European pirate with a missing hand had decided to raid an apple orchard (Yunsung, for obvious reasons, did not think this, but Mitsurugi, who had been in more than his fair share of adventures in Europe, did). A few characters in Chinese hung over it, and as Yunsung looked up at it, he saw Mitsurugi reading the sign.
" What does it say?" Yunsung asked. Mitsurugi turned around.
" It says, " The Hooked Apple"," Mitsurugi said. " This is the inn the merchant directed me to. Once I get a room, go inside and watch our equipment for a while. You don't speak the language, but worse, you can't write it either, so just stay here while I go outside looking for information."
Yunsung nodded. " Alright."
Heading inside, the two entered a nicely made wooden interior, with small carpeting lining everything and a real gold knocker sitting on the front desk. The innkeeper, a large, matronly woman with a long, horse-like face, looked at them and said something in Chinese. Putting his hands over his ears ( a sign of "Don't understand"), Mitsurugi spoke something in Mandarin. The woman said something, then nodded to him, and the two began conversing in Mandarin Chinese. Yunsung, standing by patiently while they talked, waited until Mitsurugi had gotten the key to their room and headed off before saying, " Can you teach me to write Chinese?"
Mitsurugi, caught off-guard by this question, said, " Hmm? Oh, teaching you Chinese... hmm... I possibly could. If I could acquire some small bits of paper to write on, and a little ink to write with..." He seemed to mull something over, then said, " Yes, I think I could teach you Chinese. We'll have time on the road to write, anyway." Turning, he said, " But why do you wish to learn? Don't like not being able to communicate with those around you?"
Yunsung nodded.
" Good," Mitsurugi said. " That's the same reason I myself learned Chinese. It is never a good thing to lack some form of communication with others. When you travel a lot, you will find that one language has very little mileage outside of its country of origin. You must learn as many as possible while traveling, so you will always have some way to speak with anyone you meet."
Yunsung nodded. " Thank you."
Mitsurugi shrugged. When they reached their room, the samurai took off his pack and put it on one of the two small cots. He turned to his Korean companion and said, " Watch our things while I am gone. Do not sleep- you'll have time for that later. I will return within two hours." Nodding, he left.
Yunsung sat and began to watch as time started flowing by.
-
Somewhere in Greece. Two days travel from Athens. Daylight.
Ivy and Siegfried continued down the road, walking down the road with the easy walk of those accustomed to long trips. Ivy had not had the great experience Siegfried had with traveling (the near-constant marching of his father's army had made him almost totally inured to trips), but she was a woman of immense willpower, and that made up for whatever weaknesses of strength her body might experience while walking. At the moment, both felt nothing but a comfortable burn in their legs, and Ivy was actually pleased with how well she was holding up, compared to her far more well-traveled companion. She was not by any means weak, but it was still pleasing to her that she was strong enough to last for a march that had lasted for days.
She was certain it wouldn't last much longer; traveling at this rate, it would take another few days to reach Athens, probably two, maybe three at most. As it was, the days of easy traveling and companionship were good enough for her, and the walk proved freeing to the mind; she had found a million things to ponder upon, ranging from religion (this area had odd religions, and Christianity had never caught on here; mostly because of the fierce opposition of various sorcerers/magicians/witches who called this place home, and who knew that Christianity would provide a swift, sure kick in the ass to the unholy beings they served in this area) to what she was going to do about Fygul Cestemus (the cult was huge; she had no idea where to start fighting them at, though she knew she would have to, or be hunted the rest of her life for her father's debts) to Siegfried (whom she felt warm feelings for, and yet slightly scared feelings too; what was in his past?) and all the way back to religion again (her latest string of thoughts was on Catholicism; she wondered if the Roman Catholic Church's odd habit of sainthood, which had produced saints for everything from swords to doctors, was actually a sort of substitute "pantheon of gods" that reformed pagans created to serve in stead of their original masters). It was this last she was considering as she and Siegfried began an uphill walk through a heavily-forested area that blocked everything around them from view. When they stepped out on the top of the hill (the odd dips in this particular hill caused it to look as though they literally popped up out of nowhere), all four people at the sudden and poorly made crossroads that stood atop the hill were badly frightened, mostly out of pure shock (though only one of the four was shocked simply because people were appearing where none had been before, next to him to boot). Within the next moment, one rapier, one Zweihander, one fighting staff, and one snake sword were point to point with each other.
" Siegfried?!? Ivy?!?" Kilik asked.
" Kilik?!?" Siegfried and Ivy exclaimed.
" Huh?" Raphael said.
The four looked at each other for a moment, and then Ivy, Siegfried, and Kilik put their weapons down. Laughing a bit, Siegfried said, " Kilik! How the hell did you-"
He was interrupted by Kilik saying, " What are you-"
Ivy interjected, " How did you-"
Raphael burst in by saying, " Hey, I thought yer name was Kevin, Mr. Kilik!"
Kilik tapped his head and said, " Sorry. I always tell others a different name when I'm on the road. My real name's Kilik. No offense, I just don't like people knowing my name."
Raphael nodded and said, " Smart of you." He pointed at Ivy and Siegfried. " Friends of yours?"
Kilik nodded. " Yes. Ivy, Siegfried, this is my traveling companion, Rafe."
Raphael nodded to them and said, " That's just my nickname. My real name's Raphael."
Kilik nodded. " I thought as much."
Raphael snorted and said, " Pleased to meet you, sir."
Siegfried nodded. " Are you French, sir?"
Raphael nodded. " Yes. You are German, I suppose. And the lady- she looks Spanish. I'm assuming you are Ivy, then."
She nodded. " Yes. My real name's Isabella, but everyone calls me Ivy."
Raphael nodded. " Hm. So. Where did you three meet?"
Kilik shrugged. " A chance meeting. We were in a marketplace and just happened to bump into each other." Siegfried smirked at that; Kilik had saved Ivy's life when they'd first met. He very seriously doubted that that fell under the category "happened to bump into each other".
" And you?" Ivy asked. " When did you two meet?"
Kilik opened his mouth to speak, but Raphael beat him to it. " I met him while I was resting on the road," he said. " I'm a country fellow myself, going to Greece to see what I can find there. He's heading the same way, so I thought we'd team up for a bit."
Ivy nodded. " Smart of you. Strange things live in this area. It's dangerous to go alone."
Kilik smiled. " Well, where are you two heading?"
Siegfried smirked. " Athens, Greece. You?"
Kilik almost said, " You know where," then realized that Siegfried was giving him a chance to avoid telling Raphael where he was going, if he hadn't done so already. Deciding that Raphael was okay, he said, " I'm heading for Athens as well. I'm picking up a ship there to head to Arabia."
Smiling, Siegfried clapped Raphael and Kilik on the shoulders. Kilik, used to big, heavy-handed maneuvers from his time on the Journey with Maxi, rather enjoyed the warm feeling of companionship such a slap produced; Raphael, cold at the best of times and downright freezing in the worst, found it heavily annoying, but managed to keep a smile. Nobody except Kilik noticed, however, that the smile became extremely sharp and almost shark-like for a moment or two as Raphael worked through his anger. Kilik noticed, though, and filed it away in his mind as another thing showing that Raphael was not a country bumpkin as he claimed he was; peasants, perhaps due to the harshness of their lives, were fond of big, open, happy gestures of love and friendship, and a big slap on the back like what Siegfried had done would have only made them smile bigger. It would not have given them a mean, very obviously strained smile like that.
More and more, Kilik worried about that gleam in Raphael's eye.
" Well," Siegfried said, laughing, " let's all go together, shall we? If there really are things that go bump in the night here, then we might as well have more people about to fight them off. Two's company, three's a crowd, and four's an army. Right, people?"
Raphael, despite himself, felt a sort of chagrined smirk come to his lips. He'd never been comfortable around people, but this mercenary was so obviously jovial that he couldn't help but grin back. If he'd only move his damn hand from his shoulder, Raphael thought he could bring himself to be quite cheerful around this man. He reminded himself to speak little at all, as his bumpkin disguise had fallen apart daily in Kilik's presence, and with two more people around, it would shatter even faster. The less he said, the better his appearances would be. Still, he'd have to find a better cover story than the grave-robbing one (he'd told Kilik he'd found out a noble had been buried, and had broken into the guy's tomb to steal his clothing) to figure out why he had such expensive, bright red clothes...
" Alright then, Siegfried," Kilik said. " To Athens. We'll get there in no time."
Siegfried nodded. " Yeah. Good to be in a large group again."
" How many people were in your father's army?" Ivy asked.
" Oh, I don't know," Siegfried said, mulling it over in his head. " The lowest we ever had was about seventy good souls, and then it once went as high as three hundred..."
And so saying, the group began to walk off, heading towards Athens, Greece, and a major showdown with a girl whose pockets held both a small amount of gold and a beating, pulsating piece of the Soul Edge. Or, possibly, a major showdown with something else: a great giant whose axe had been named many things but was always called the Executioner in the end...
And the monstrous being he served.
- Here you go, ladies and gentlemen. Short, sweet, and to the point. Hope you like it! So-
One last blessing, for the year of 2004 (a great year for all involved).
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!
From your Friendly Author,
-Silverlocke980
