Zornhut: Chapter 10


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.


To say that Lucius was merely concerned for Raven would be an understatement.

Lucius had constantly worried for Raven ever since he had entered into service for House Cornwell, when Raven was Lord Raymond, and not the surly mercenary the rest of the company knew. These past few days however, Lucius' concern for him had gone from simple worry to great distress, for Raven's behaviour had altered rather greatly ever since they had left Bern.

Raven still ran his errands dutifully, true, and he remained respectful to the company's leaders--except for Hector, whom he simply avoided altogether--but to the rest of the troops, it was a different story. If the man's disposition made him unapproachable before, he seemed downright hostile now, even to the few members of the company who had managed to befriend him.

Rebecca dared to smile and greet him only from afar, while Bartre had stopped sparring with him, claiming that the man had nothing more to learn from the warrior, but Lucius suspected the real reason was that Raven had nearly beheaded the man with a throwing axe during their last practice bout; while Lucius knew that Raven's aim was true and that little incident with the axe was nothing but show, Bartre did not, and the man apparently was not taking any risks.

Wil too, had noticed Raven's change in demeanour and--somewhat foolishly, Lucius thought--tried to lift the man's spirits, but all he earned from his well-intentioned gesture was a glare and a sharp reply, telling the archer to mind his own business. Wil spent most of his free time with Rath after that.

Even Lucius himself found Raven acting rather cool and distant towards him; whenever he asked Raven what troubled him, the younger man merely brushed him off politely, and whenever Lucius got persistent, the man simply snapped at him before walking away, effectively ending the conversation. Lucius then guessed that the change in Raven's behaviour was to be blamed on that occasion in Bern, when Hector had saved Raven in battle.

When the man one swore to kill has saved one's own life, what would one do? Lucius could understand Raven's confusion. Despite the younger man's vow to seek revenge on Ostia and the two years of hard soldiering he had endured, Lucius knew that he had not changed much. Beneath that unfriendly disposition, Raven was still the Raymond of old; a man would not let his own debts go unpaid, and a man with care in his heart.

But now he was no longer so certain, Lucius thought to himself as he tried to comfort the distressed young woman in front of him.

"He said that he was no longer my brother, Lucius," Priscilla said, almost in tears. "And he told me to leave! How could he?"

"There, there," Lucius said gently, "you know how he is, Lady Priscilla. Your brother has a lot on his mind, that is all."

"I finally found him after all these years, and now..." Priscilla lowered her gaze to the ground and made a soft, sniffling sound. "Lucius," she said after a moment, "is he planning something dangerous?"

"I... I cannot say, Lady Priscilla."

"He must be!" Priscilla looked up and stared at Lucius. "Lucius, answer me this," she said, "whatever my brother is planning--does it have to do with our parents? What happened to them?"

Lucius' mouth opened and closed, but he could not utter a response. He simply did not know where to begin--or even if he should. If Raven himself refused to discuss what had happened to House Cornwell with his own sister, Lucius was not sure if he had the right to do so.

Priscilla must have noticed his hesitation, for she merely smiled weakly. "It's all right, Lucius," she assured him. "You need not tell me anything. I will find the answers on my own, somehow. But please, try to talk to my brother?"

Lucius nodded, smiling. "All right, Lady Priscilla. Please, do not worry so much--I'm sure that Lord Raymond did not mean to yell at you so. He'll come along and apologise, I know he will."

At least I hope so. I really do.

-------------------

The subject of their conversation was at the other side of the camp, left to his own thoughts. He was thinking about a different conversation altogether--one that he had with Eliwood just this morning.

"How is your leg, Raven?" the lordling had asked. "I noticed that you're still limping a bit."

"A little stiff," he had answered truthfully, for his leg had bothered him a little, "but I'm told that would go away."

"That's good. I hope to see you back in action soon." Raven had missed out on the last few skirmishes with the Black Fang on account of his injury, and apparently Eliwood had found it rather odd not having his presence in battle, for Mark fielded the mercenary at almost every single opportunity.

"Lord Eliwood?"

"Yes?"

"How long have you known Lord Hector?"

Eliwood had smiled at that question. "Ever since we were children. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." There had been a long pause before he asked his next question. "Is he anything like his brother?"

"Like Lord Uther, you mean? Well, not exactly. Hector tends to speak his own mind--you might say he's rather brusque--and he's a bit on the reckless side, but he's as loyal and as just as his brother. There is no one I'd rather have as a good friend." Eliwood had looked at him curiously then. "Thinking of serving with Ostia after this campaign, Raven?" the lordling asked.

"Perhaps," he had lied before he made his excuses and left.

Raven sighed. There were times he regretted his decision to join this company. He may have found his sister and was now closer to his goal of seeking revenge on Ostia, but he was also plagued with doubts on his personal mission ever since he was recruited into the company ranks. It would have been so much simpler just to kill Hector when Raven first encountered the company back in Caelin, but Raven now knew that back then he had no chance of defeating Hector in combat.

He had argued with Priscilla just this morning when she asked him if he was planning anything dangerous. In truth, he could not even think of a plan. Back in Caelin, Lucius had reminded him that he could not just turn back on Lord Hausen, but he had considered all his debts to the man paid in full; he had served in the Caelin army and had defended Caelin as best as he could. This time it was different, for Hector had saved him and he personally owed the man in return; he could not bring himself to make an attempt on the Ostian lordling's life.

As loyal and as just as his brother.

He could not stop thinking of Eliwood's words, and found himself wondering whether what he believed all this time was the truth--that Ostia was indeed personally responsible for the death of his parents. He had accepted the council of lords' decision to strip Cornwell of its peerage and to seize all its assets when they had discovered his father had been stealing funds from the alliance in order to cover debts--his parents had hidden their actions so well that even their own son had no idea of what they had done until the very end--but the murder of his parents was something he could not accept, nor forgive.

But was it murder in the first place?

If Eliwood was right, and that both the Ostian lord and lordling were as just and fair as he believed, then Ostia could not have been responsible for the deaths of the marquess and marquise of Cornwell.

But if Ostia was not, then who was?

Raven needed answers, and he wondered who could provide them. Any of the Ostians were absolutely out of the question; Matthew and Oswin would surely side with their liege, no matter what the truth was. Serra? He almost laughed at the very idea of asking her for any information.

Eliwood was a possibility, but the lordling was Hector's good friend, and his opinion might be somewhat biased. Besides, Raven knew that the man had been burdened enough already and had no wish to trouble him any further. As for Lyndis, it was highly unlikely that she would know anything of the Cornwell affair, for it happened before she had discovered the truth about her noble lineage.

Raven's gaze fell upon Sain and Kent, who were talking leisurely while they saddled their mounts, ready to go out on patrol. The Caelin knights--Kent, especially--perhaps knew something of the events that led to the demise of Cornwell, but Raven would rather not ask them unless he absolutely had to; he simply did not know them well enough to do so. While mercenaries like Raven himself had formed the core of the Caelin infantry, they had never really gotten along with the household knights; the latter mostly did not have a high opinion of sellswords, who fought only for money and had no real loyalties, unlike the knights.

Lucius' own knowledge of the affair was no greater than his own. His old friend had no desire to seek the truth, and was more interested in seeing him settle down somewhere, perhaps in one of the few family manors in Araphen that the council of lords could not seize, for they belonged to his late mother and technically were still the property of her kin.

Wallace? Raven considered the idea, but decided against it. The man had probably gotten himself lost somewhere when Cornwell was investigated for leeching alliance funds, and probably had no clue as to even where Cornwell was.

No, he had to find his answers from someone else, but there were so few in this company he dared to ask. He sighed as he looked around, and his gaze settled on a small tent near the centre of the camp--Mark's tent.

There was talk among the company that their tactician was of noble birth; soldiers, Raven noticed, were almost as notorious as old women when it came to gossiping. If the rumours were indeed true, it did not surprise Raven a bit; he had noticed that while Mark acted in deference to their leaders, there was a certain formal stiffness in him that conveyed the sense that he did not feel inferior in status to any of them. There were other things Raven had observed as well, such as the tactician's tendency to talk in formal speech, and his clothes. While the simple robes he wore certainly looked plain, the material was of very fine weave and quality, something no simple commoner could afford.

Mark also did not poke into the personal affairs of the troops and was more than perfectly happy to turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to most of the mischief that went on in the company, such as Matthew or Legault's occasional thieving, and Heath's wyvern sneaking off to snack on the food supplies stored in Merlinus' wagon. As far as Raven could tell, Mark made sure the troops were well taken care of, and he asked only for their cooperation in return. The tactician did not care much for their history and backgrounds; he had jumped at the chance to recruit both Nino and Jaffar at Bern when the company was trying save Prince Zephiel, whereas any other man would have not even considered the idea. His decision to enlist Jaffar made a good two-thirds of the troops nervous, but it had paid off; the assassin soon proved to be an indispensable member of the company.

Raven decided that if there was someone he could ask for answers and not worry about having to give any of his own, it would be the tactician. If Mark was indeed of noble birth, he was likely to be informed of the Cornwell affair and perhaps knew what Raven did not, and Raven could count on the tactician's belief of not prying into business that was not his own to make sure anything he would ask remained between themselves.

But he would have to ask all his questions later, for now it was his turn at guard duty. He reluctantly buckled on his swordbelt as he made his way to the edge of the camp, and saw Priscilla talking with Lucius; his sister still looked very much upset. He immediately started feeling rather guilty over the fact that he had snapped at her this morning, and made a mental note to apologise to her tomorrow.

Raven then took his place some distance away from camp, strangely enough, feeling somewhat relieved. His improving mood must have been obvious, for when Wil joined him later, the archer had the courage to talk to him again. He ended up spending most of his time on watch telling Wil to shut up, while the archer cheerfully ignored him.

His routine was almost back to normal, and he found it comforting.