Zornhut: Chapter 5
Author's note: Zornhut, or Guard of Wrath, is one of the main guard positions in medieval sword techniques. Also, I've opted for the game's default name for the tactician, Mark.
Pherae, Raven decided, reminded him of home. Cornwell's walls were not as grand as Pherae's, yet both castles had that calm, soothing aura that he could not help but feel at ease.
Instead of joining the rest of the company in the great hall, he wandered the paths of the inner keep and with each step, grew into a more and more wistful mood. After almost an hour of walking, he found himself at the battlements overlooking the bailey and royal apartments. He leaned against the parapets and looked at the courtyard below; it was almost too easy to imagine the Cornwell men-at-arms there, each man walking briskly to their duties and errands. He was still in a reflective mood when Wil found him some time later.
"Hey Raven!" the archer called as he ran along the battlements.
Raven did not even bother to turn and look at the other man when he arrived. "Wil," was all the mercenary said in reply.
"You missed supper," said Wil, taking his place next to Raven.
Raven shrugged. "I wasn't hungry."
The archer leaned against the battlements and looked in the direction of the outer bailey for a long moment before he said, "I finally sent that letter I promised Lady Lyndis I'd write to my parents. Can't believe I've been stalling that for a while now."
"Hmm."
Wil stretched. "I guess if it weren't for what we've gone through the past few months, I'd probably never get around to it." His voice took a more serious tone when he continued, "I wonder what's it like for Lord Eliwood right now. He wasn't with us at supper--I suppose he's with his lady mother." The archer sighed. "It must be a horrible thing, that."
"What is?" Raven asked.
"Having your own father die in your arms."
"I'm not too sure. At least he got to say goodbye," Raven answered without thinking, and immediately cursed himself for doing so.
There have been a few occasions where Raven had wondered if Wil's cluelessness was in fact an act, and this was one of them. The mercenary had expected Wil to pester him with a question or two regarding his answer, but was surprised when Wil merely nodded and chose not to pursue the subject, even though it was obvious that the archer was rather curious.
"Well," said Wil as he clapped Raven once on the shoulder, "I guess I'll see you in the morning then. Good night." The archer strolled off in the direction of the company's quarters, whistling softly. He had not gone far when he stopped and turned around. "By the way," said the archer, "Bartre's looking for you. He said something about a family tree you're supposed to look at."
Raven groaned. "Thanks for the warning."
Wil flashed him a quick grin. "You're welcome."
---
Hector paced the floor, occasionally glancing at the door to the royal solarium, wondering when Eliwood would leave the room. He continued walking back and forth for a few moments longer when he finally decided that if he had to wait, he might as well make himself comfortable and so took a seat near the fireplace.
Can't believe that old man Athos teleported us all the way here. Kind of amusing though, to see the royal guards panic when all of us just popped out of thin air like that. He grinned.
The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned to find Mark exiting the room. "Mark," he said, "I didn't expect to find you here." He got up from his seat and approached the tactician. "Where's Eliwood?"
"With his mother, my lord. I think we should leave them alone for now. Was there anything important you wanted to discuss with him?"
Hector shrugged. "Nothing that cannot wait. What were you doing in there anyway?"
"Having a chat with Lord Eliwood. He asked me where I was from, what was it like at home, that sort of thing." The tactician ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose he just wanted to talk about something else instead of our mission or Lord Elbert."
"I see. Anyway, I... I owe you an apology, Mark."
The tactician looked at him in surprise. "Whatever for?"
"When we first met... I had doubts about your abilities then. I was wrong. Without your help, I do not think we would not have gotten this far."
Mark stared at him.
"Damn it lad, say something. And why are you looking at me like that?"
"Well, it's just that I had never expected to hear something like that from you, Lord Hector."
Hector scowled. "Why won't anyone believe that I am perfectly capable of saying something nice?"
The tactician started to laugh, but somehow managed to turn it into an awkward-sounding cough. He swiftly covered his mouth with his hand, obviously trying his best to hide a smile.
Hector sighed. "I give up," he grumbled, "if I am doomed to be thought of as nothing more than an armour-plated goon, so be it. Let's go and give Eliwood some peace." He then clapped the tactician rather heartily on the back, nearly driving the other man to his knees.
"Oof."
"Sorry." Hector blinked. "Wait, I could have sworn I heard clinking--are you wearing mail under those robes of yours?"
Mark nodded.
"No wonder you walk so slowly, you have all that weight on. Come, let us head for the dining hall for some supper."
"Ah... I'm not really hungry. But I do have a small favour to ask."
"Of course."
"Would you be kind enough to give this to Raven, my lord?"
Hector looked at what Mark gave to him. It was a crest about the size of a large coin; the small device was a burnished red with gold trim, with odd engravings on its surface. He looked suspiciously at the other man. "Why don't you give it to him yourself?"
The tactician looked a touch embarrassed when he answered, "Well, it's just that the man terrifies me, my lord. I don't think he likes me."
"I don't think that boy likes any of us, all he ever does is scowl and glare at people." Hector eyed the crest for a moment before he asked, "So why should I be the one to give him this?"
"Because you're bigger and not to mention much braver than I am, my lord."
Hector grinned. "Good answer."
---
Priscilla brushed her horse, humming softly; the brown gelding leaned into every stroke of the brush and neighed softly with pleasure at intervals, obviously enjoying her attentions.
"Let me do that."
She nearly jumped at the familiar voice behind her. "Goodness! You scared me!" she exclaimed.
"Sorry," Raven said as he moved closer to take the brush from Priscilla's hand. He resumed grooming the horse, but not before ruffling his sister's hair affectionately with one hand. "He's a beauty," he said, stroking the horse's mane.
Priscilla beamed. "He is, isn't he? Countess Caerleon gave him to me for my birthday," she said. "But I'm sure you did not come all the way to the stables just to discuss my horse," she teased. Raven laughed softly and smiled, a very rare thing for him to do; she remembered that even as a child, her brother was almost always serious and solemn.
"Actually, Lucius has been nagging me to spend some time with you." Raven sighed. "I'm sorry that I haven't done so."
"It's all right," Priscilla said, giving her brother a quick hug, "I know how occupied you have been all this while. And it's so hard to actually find a place and opportunity for us to sit down and talk, just the both of us." She had never understood her brother's decision to keep the fact that they were siblings a secret from the others, but she never questioned it either.
They talked for over an hour; Raven asked questions on her life with the Caerleons, and in return, he entertained her with a few stories of his days in the Caelin army. She was careful to keep their conversation on anything but their parents, even though she was dying for any news of them, knowing that the conversation would come to an abrupt halt if she did, just like in the few occasions before.
She certainly did not want this conversation to end just yet, and tried her very best to hide a yawn when she felt it coming. She failed miserably.
"You should go to bed," Raven said, "I've kept you awake long enough."
"I'm not sleepy," Priscilla protested, but flushed slightly in embarrassment when she yawned again.
"To sleep, Priscilla," Raven ordered in that no-nonsense tone she remembered well from their childhood.
"Very well. Good night." She tiptoed to kiss her brother on the cheek before she left the stables.
Raven remained behind, putting away the brushes and checking the horse's tack, making sure the gear was ready for tomorrow. He was about ready to leave when he heard the sounds of someone entering the stables; he also thought he heard the faint sound of his name being called. It definitely was not one of the stablemen or grooms, for Eliwood had made it clear to them that the company would take care of their own animals; the pegasi and Heath's wyvern disliked having strangers around them. He doubted that it was Bartre; the axeman would never have thought of looking for him in the stables. That left only one person.
Wil.
"What is it now, Master of Rudeness?" Raven said loudly, not disguising his irritation.
"Master of Rudeness? Is that what everyone in this company has been calling me behind my back?"
Raven's eyes widened. That voice definitely did not belong to Wil. He instinctively reached for his sword, and cursed when he remembered that he was not armed; he had left his weapon in his room.
Hector grumbled as he stomped his way through the stables to the surprised mercenary. "Master of Rudeness?" he repeated accusingly.
Raven blinked. "I... I thought you were Wil."
"Do I look like Wil?"
Raven ignored the man's question. "What do you want?" he asked, just barely maintaining a level tone with his voice.
Hector shrugged. "I have something for you. Here," he said, grabbing Raven's right hand, and pressed something firmly into the mercenary's palm. "We leave early in the morning. Get some sleep." The Ostian lordling did not wait for a reply and headed for the doorway, grumbling under his breath.
Raven stared at the other man for a moment before he turned his attention to the object in his hand. "A Hero Crest..." he said softly to himself. "Interesting."
