Mercenary

Chulainn POV - Gran 758

Verdane had the best apples. I'd traveled all over Jugdral, but that fact remained absolutely constant. So, when I strolled into Evans, the first thing I did was buy an apple before wandering the market and listen to the gossip. Gossip saved a mercenary's life many times, either by telling them to get the hell away or where potential jobs might be. Why I was on this side of the continent, actually. Every bit of gossip that wasn't about the Grannvale-Isaach 'war' was about how Agustria had trouble brewing. And every mercenary worth their salt knew that nobility plus trouble equaled jobs. Some headed straight for there, and I'd heard of a few who had already been hired. Like that Beowolf and Volkoff group, or whatever their names were. Me? I decided to poke around Evans, see what was going on here. After all, they had trouble here not long ago.

Not now, though. Now, the people were happily cheering, chatting about some tournament that was happening to help celebrate the eventual wedding of their new lord. It was a few months away, to give time for recovery and planting, but the tournament was being held now for… whatever reason. Normally, I didn't bother with such things, as I had more than enough experience in an arna, but… well, I had to admit it. I was a bit curious about this Sigurd fellow. These people had been abused, yet he'd already won their loyalty and respect. That never happened. Those who'd been kicked were wary of more. Yet these folks weren't wary at all. And they didn't seem to be faking either. So, I was curious and the best way to judge a leader was by those who fought for them. Few could hide anything once a battle began, after all. Battles skinned you down to your core, until you were worse than a rabid animal.

"Wonder where one signs up for it," I whispered to myself, finishing off my apple and casually tossing the core to the side. Movement caught my eye, and I glanced over to see a couple of street children frantically picking at the remains of the apple. Even with a good lord, you had things like this… "Hey." The children froze and slowly looked up at me. "Here." I passed them a few gold coins. Money didn't matter to me; I always had enough to not starve and that was all I cared about. "Get yourself something fresh for once."

"...Thank you!" one blurted, probably someone who hadn't been born on the street, but thrown instead. Their fellows were already bolting down the street, before I could 'change my mind'. Not that the mannerly one remained behind for long, disappearing into the crowd.

"Huh. Strange to see so many band together." In my experience, everyone was a rival for the scraps of food discarded. That's part of why I ended up dragged into the gladiator world. I'd been beaten for the food I had scavenged earlier, and then… "Well, glad they're cooperating. Sure it's easier to gather food, at least."

I continued on my way, still listening while I tried to figure out where one signed up for the tournament, or at least found out the rules for the thing. However, I was soon distracted again, but this time by a much nicer sight. There were some kittens playing among some boxes in an alley nearby. Smiling at the sight, I went to buy them some fish and then sat down with them, carefully feeding them the fish while they climbed all over me, mewing and purring to say hello and ask me questions.

I liked animals. Animals didn't stab you in the back. They were honest in a way humans couldn't be. And they were always comforting to be around.

Interestingly, this tournament was different than ones I'd participated in previously, legal and illegal. For one thing, they provided healers for the combatants. For another, they frowned on deathblows, so I had to hold back a bit. Probably a good thing, considering some of the participants were still in training. Like the squire I just defeated, one with a lance. Style suggested Leonster, and one who hadn't quite adapted to fighting on foot yet.

"Still, he'll become skilled, if he survives," I whispered to myself, rolling my shoulders to loosen them up. I was waiting in the 'entrance' to the field, relaxing before my final bout of the day. Most would head further inside into the actual waiting room, but I liked my quiet. And from here, I could study Sigurd and his lady wife-to-be, Deirdre, since I had a good view of their seats. Good looking couple, with lots of shy smiles and brightness to them. The adoration they had for each other was practically tangible. They were also unusual nobles, since they didn't quite follow tradition. The Best Man and Maid of Honor should've been in the 'places of honor' with them, but neither were. Instead, it was a young boy who excitedly asked all sorts of questions and couldn't sit still for more than a second. Not that either of the two minded, laughing and teasing the boy with all the warmth of proper family. But I had to admit that the boy held my attention more than he should've. He just… I swore he looked like Mariccle...

The judge called for the last match to begin, so I shook my head to clear it and stepped onto the field, focused on the battle to come… until I saw who my opponent was. I knew her. Yes, she was older, but her gaze and stance were the same as when we were children. I hated how easily I recognized her. I'd thrown away those memories to survive. I didn't need them anymore. But I did briefly wonder if she recognized me, but I knew the answer was 'no'. Why would she? Not only did I go by a (slightly) different name, but she thought me… no, 'Holyn of Sophara' was dead. That child died a long time ago. And there was no way she'd see the corpse of that child in a mercenary with death's eyes.

The match began as soon as both of us drew blade and we went after each other with everything… well, most everything in my case. Just as I had in other matches, I didn't use more 'pragmatic' tactics such as kicking dirt into her face or what knights called 'rude blows' (often to the groin or other sensitive areas). And I was also fighting while aggravated for the first time in… a very long while. Because I could so easily remember those things I discarded and it annoyed me. That child was dead. That child died with his family. Died with his younger siblings, died with his parents. Dead, dead, dead. I was just a no-name mercenary, a former dog for a noble who delighted in bloodsports. I hated that seeing Ayra was enough to draw those memories out from the refuse.

In what had to be a span of seconds, Ayra jumped back to avoid a blow and settled into a stance I knew well. The green light sparkling around her blade confirmed it, and I could've honestly shaken her. Gaze was the same, demeanor was the same, and apparently, so was her recklessness! Why the hell was she throwing Astras when Isaach was being annihilated?

Thinking quickly, I blocked the strike before it could get the full 'five' off (not actually as hard as it seemed, because you just had to block before the first swing was completed; that was why you had to be very skilled to utilize Astra) and gritted my teeth as my arms went numb from the blow and my sword cracked. I twisted, disarming her, and discarded both swords, leaving us both unarmed and waiting to hear the call...

As soon as the judge called 'tie', Ayra grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to her side's entrance. And as soon as we were out of sight of the audience, she whirled to face me. "How did you know how to block my Astra?" she hissed, glaring. Despite the blood, her hands twitched towards where her sword should be, no doubt wanting to gut me where I stood. "It couldn't have been a coincidence. You knew exactly where…" And most wouldn't. Yes, there was a magic-not-magic thing that nullified the sword arts gifted to humanity by fairies, but that was nullification. Not blocking. It wasn't hard, if you knew, but very few knew because Isaach had depended on the royal family's technique for safety many times.

But I had a very good lie-not-lie. "I'm a mercenary, Princess, and a former gladiator," I answered, absently checking over my own injuries. She bristled at the title, which almost made me laugh. She'd hated it as a child as well. "If you don't want people to figure out that you're the Princess of Isaach, you need to cut your hair and not throw around Astras."

"That…!" She bristled more, rather like a cat hissing. But instead of hissing, she just glared even more. "Just answer the question."

"I did. I'm a former gladiator turned mercenary. I did jobs around Isaach before moving over this way." Even as I said the not-lies, I thought of the real reason why I knew. Mariccle had taught me, as a means of teaching both Ayra and me that no one trick made someone invincible. That 'Astra' and 'Luna' were simply tools to be trained and utilized, but not depended upon. "Your brother sparred against mercenaries and gladiators to better himself." I shrugged, pretending that was all it was. "It's not that hard of a logic puzzle."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, of course not. I'm simply stating facts." I let the silence hang for a half-second, just because I could. "Princess."

"Don't call me that!"

"You clearly don't mind, since you threw out an Astra without a thought."

"You…!"

"Excuse me?" That was a new voice, and I automatically tensed and whirled, mentally cursing at how I let someone sneak up on us. I'd been too busy making sure Ayra was too furious to make connections… "I'm here to heal… both of you?" That said, the newcomer wasn't exactly the most threatening looking person. She was a small woman with dark red hair held back by a hair pin and mildly confused green eyes and who wore a very simple, light blue dress. Though she had a calming presence, she… also seemed as threatening as a kitten. At most.

"I dragged him over to talk," Ayra explained to newcomer. I noticed that she was perfectly relaxed now, and even smiling slightly. At least, until she glared at me again. "But he's most unhelpful."

"I apologize for not giving you the answer seek," I retorted, doing my best to keep calm. But that relaxing… that slight smile… all of that just made me more curious. If there was someone who could truly answer my earlier questions about Sigurd... "But let me ask you something. What are you fighting for?"

"What?" Well, finally knocked her off-balanced.

"What are you fighting for? You're clearly weren't motivated by the cash prize." I thought of the little boy who looked like Mariccle in the stands. If Ayra was here, that had to be his son. I'd question hostage, but Ayra's swordsmanship was too pure for that. "So?"

"...I fought for my nephew." Ayra curled a little into herself, but that just confirmed who the boy had been. "And I fight for Sigurd, who gave us safety and sanctuary." To royals from a country his home was fighting? "I am still wary, but I cannot deny his kindness. I am gladdened he has found someone he wishes to spend his life with. I remember how happy my brother was, before illness took his wife away. That's all."

"I see." I couldn't help but smile slightly. That answer was so… typical of her. She didn't grow up much, huh? Though, I supposed she was a little calmer. Maybe. "Interesting. Makes me curious." Even more so now.

"Well, if you want to sign on, you can." Ayra didn't quite look at me, no doubt embarrassed by the honest answer. "I doubt Sigurd will say 'no' to a skilled fighter."

"I think I might. Fighting for something grander than myself might be just what I need." And I'd let them make their own conclusions on that 'grander'. But for me? Well, if this Sigurd really did take them in out of the kindness of his heart, then… I wanted to help. Because I remembered how kind Mariccle was and I had heard rumors that Mariccle never stopped trying to learn what happened to m… to Holyn of Sophara. Least I could do for him was fight for the person who saved his son. "I apologize for being rude to you, miss." But for now, there was a convenient distraction and I needed to seize it for my own sake. "You are…?"

"Alicia, the Chief Healer around here," the woman answered, stepping up and bringing up her staff for emphasis. She then smiled, a perfectly calming one. "What is your name, sir?"

"Chulainn," I answered, focusing on her. Ayra needed time to calm a bit, I knew. "It's Chulainn."

"So, Sir Chu-"

"Just Chulainn." Now that, I had to stop immediately. I was nothing but a mercenary. "I have no title."

"...Chulainn." She pointed to my arm, which was still bloody. And bleeding, actually, though from what I could see, it was due to reopening the injuries. Or Ayra reopening them by dragging me over. "If you don't mind holding that up, I can begin healing you."

"Thank you." I obeyed, curious about how thorough of a job she'd do. And considering she first used her magic to do a study of the injury, the answer was going to be 'very'. "It's strange, to be healed."

"It is strange?"

"Gladiators treat their own injuries." But here I was at an arena, actually getting treated by a proper healer. I even removed my gauntlet just so that I could confirm the injury really was healing. "Healers are better than gods, in my eyes."

"Quite the blasphemous thing to say, especially to a cleric." She met my gaze calmly, even as she kept on healing. Though, the slight trace of dryness in her voice made me think she didn't consider herself a 'cleric', no matter what she said. "Are not healers agents of the gods?"

"Perhaps, but you can see a healer help people. You have to hold faith in the gods helping." With my injury completely healed, I snapped my gauntlet and armor back on. "Besides, you didn't hit me with a staff like the last cleric I said that to."

"Do you say that to all clerics?"

"No, I was delirious from an infected wound and babbling." Honestly, I'd said it in the hopes the cleric would stop healing me and let me die, but no such luck. But I didn't want to remember that, so I looked at Ayra, who stayed apart. "Are you not getting healed?"

"I-I am!" Ayra snapped, stumbling a bit over her words. She glowered to hide her embarrassment. "I didn't want to interrupt!" She softened when she held up her own injured arm and Alicia began tending to it. "Thank you, Miss Alicia."

I lingered back as Ayra got healed, closing my eyes as I thought about what I just got myself into. Ah, well. Wouldn't be the worst job I had to deal with.

Author's notes: And here's one that got requested quite a bit too. xD Chulainn's recruitment from his POV, complete with 'reuniting' with Ayra and meeting Alicia. And what he was even doing in the area and why he competed.