Hey, look! It's Janus! Happy chapter makes me happy. Chrono Trigger is not mine.
It was official, Janus decided. 'Sir' Slash was a damn bastard who enjoyed making him do all the hard work. Ever since 'Master' Ozzie had given the swordsman the task of 'teaching the boy what life was like', the violet-skinned Mazoku had gone out of his way to make sure that Janus had spent at least one day doing every job the swordsman could think of.
First it had been cleaning out the aviary in the castle. That had ended with Janus covered in stuff he'd very much rather not think about, and Ozzie ordering him to take a bath, nose wrinkling from the smell. The next day he'd been set to mucking the stables and moving hay about. Janus could have sworn the Flunky who was in charge of the stables had had him moving the hay for absolutely no reason. That had ended with Janus covered in stuff that was even worse than the day before, and yet another Ozzie-ordered bath. The boy had been almost glad when Slash had decided that they ought to be on a ship going to the front lines at Choras the next day.
Of course, the minor joy had turned into anger when Janus realized that a ship had even more new and exciting ways for a deck hand to get dirty and tired out, and there were no baths on the ocean. Added to that, he was set scrubbing the deck, which meant he lost his shirt because of the heat, and then another slave started hitting on him. A male slave, who even tried to pull 'rank' for time in service. Janus was NOT interested, and had far more rank, considering his owner, and that had ended about the way Slash expected it too. Luckily, they were able to haul the chagrined slave back on board.
Finally, after a four-day journey that had Janus being treated like everyone's scut boy, they had reached this outpost. It was the anchor-fort, holding their line on Choras ground. And Janus knew 'Master' Slash already had at least half a dozen plans for him.
Today, for example. Janus had, finally, been given a little time to clean up, but only because he was expected to help in the infirmary and no-one would allow him in until they could see his face clearly. He figured the wash up was fair trade for putting up with the healers, and so far it hadn't been so bad. He… just… didn't look very closely at the injured, and tried not to listen to the groans and cries as the mundane healers plied their trade on the less critically wounded.
"Move," a curt order came from behind him. Janus turned curiously, and found himself facing a Human, with green hair, wearing the green of a trusted slave and the blue and huelin armband of… a healer-mage? That couldn't be right; Humans in this time didn't have magic.
The girl frowned at him, muttered something in what was probably her native tongue and repeated her order. "Move, now." Her grasp of the Mazoku language was atrocious, and Janus quickly realized that she had absolutely no clue whose colors he was wearing.
He started to move out of her way, apparently still too slow for her tastes. As soon as she could, she pushed past him, going, he saw, to a very badly torn up Grimalkin. Stealing a few moments from his work, Janus watched her curiously, realizing she was beginning to glow. When the glow left her to cover her patient, it seemed somehow familiar to him, though it was clearly not magic. He didn't have the luxury of time to consider what he'd seen, as another of the huelin-clad healers called for bandages. Janus never got another chance to talk to the girl, and he couldn't even afford to watch her as that slowed his responses to an unacceptable level.
The next day he was back at the infirmary, in a manner of speaking. When he had been helping to heal the injured yesterday, now he was busy moving those who had died, or where too far gone for healing to work. Janus didn't have the option of not looking; not as he touched them, hauling them up and dragging them to the graves if they were dead, or using the knife he had been given if they still lived. At first he cursed steadily in Zealian, enjoying the uncomfortable reactions of the Mazoku as he fluently used the language that was the basis for their spells. As the day edged on and he labored at his macabre task under the heat of the sun, his voice stilled. When he came to one of the somehow still-living, Janus stopped even hesitating in using the knife as he tried to simply get through the day.
Janus slept poorly that night, old memories blending with new horrors in his nightmares. When he woke up and saw 'Sir' Slash smiling grimly, Janus knew an appalling day had just begun. "We're going to the front lines. Bring a weapon."
Janus' cursing didn't phase Slash. The swordsman knew the difference between swearing and spellcasting, and this was something that had to be done. Lord Ozzie wanted Janus to learn about life. Well, war was part of life, just as much as anything else. As soon as Janus was dressed and ready, they left the fort.
Yes, I'm being very hard on Janus... Also, yes, 'huelin' is not a typo or anything. More will be revealed, promise. Review, and I'll explain it faster.