No Longer Alone
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
(Five multi-chapter stories going on at once, and several more ideas that refuse to leave me alone. 'Bit off more than I can chew' is an understatement.)
Fighting hard to stay conscious, Franz never had the strength to actually do anything much, and thus his head continued to loll weakly about as he blinked again and again in an attempt to get his eyes to focus.
Of course, being the stubborn little gits that they were, they remained singularly obtuse about giving him double vision.
This was ridiculous. He'd merely fought three bandits! The fight couldn't possibly have taken so much out of him, could it?
Finally, he was able to gain some measure of clarity and sharpness in his vision. Blinking, he caught sight of what appeared to be a torch left on the ground, lying unattended by the leg of a nearby table.
Closing his eyes, Franz conserved his strength for several minutes, before finally gripping the edge of the table. He'd been here long enough. The others needed his help.
Shakily, Franz managed to get onto his feet, although he could distinctly feel his legs trembling. Taking a deep breath, then another, he took two steps forward.
"H-hey!" The call of protest came from one of the villagers that had half-carried him inside. "You shouldn't be up so soon! You're exhausted, aren't you?"
"I'll be –" He paused for a moment as his vision swam. "I'll be fine," He said. "But thanks for your concern."
Steeling himself, he took another step.
Clunk.
He glanced down at the torch that had hit his feet. It lay there, rocking slightly with the impact of his foot.
With a sigh, Franz stooped down and retrieved it, ignoring the sudden disorientation and buzzing sound in his ears. Who knows? It could come in handy later. With that, he continued on, exiting the gloomy inn.
After several minutes of walking, the drowsiness began to wear off, and Franz reached the outside of the town square. He could still hear the sounds of combat some ways off, but from he could discern, it appeared to be dying down.
Taking a deep breath, he took another step forward –
"I was wondering where you'd been." General Seth's voice floated up from behind him.
Turning quickly, Franz bowed slightly. "Apologies, General. I was – I was sidetracked."
"Mm." Seth nodded. "We're about to move out against the commander of this garrison. Apparently he's the one who's been commanded to hunt down Natasha."
"Natasha?"
"Ah, yes. You haven't met her yet. They should be regrouping near the coliseum. You'll have your chance to say hello."
Nodding, Franz took off after his mentor. After several minutes of steady jogging, they neared the flat-topped building that was essentially the landmark of the town.
The majority of their team had several wounds on their bodies, but the fight had been kept decidedly low-key, and the majority of the crowd in the arena didn't appear to have noticed anything amiss.
Good for them, then. As Franz reached the group, he noted that Sir Gilliam and Sir Garcia was missing. Upon reaching them, they reappeared around a side wall. Franz noted offhandedly that Garcia was wiping blood from his axe.
"We got the commander." Garcia said. "Caught him attempting to leave the city through the northern gates."
Franz glanced up. "Was his name Saar?"
"Didn't catch it. Why?"
"One of the villagers pointed him out to me."
"Ah."
Seth frowned. "Sir Gilliam. Your arm…"
The armor-clad knight gave a snort. "Flesh wound from his javelin. Nothing major."
Upon closer inspection, Franz noted the vast majority of their company bore wounds of one sort or the other. Then again, he wasn't much different. His shoulder was still giving him problems, and the cut on his leg wasn't helping matters any.
Seth stood with his hand cupped over his mouth, as if trying to make a decision. Finally, he spoke up. "We can't afford to sit here nursing our wounds. Grado may send reinforcements at any moment once they learn that we've been through here."
Franz spoke up. "Uh, general, we still need to pick up our weapons from the armoury."
Seth nodded wearily. "Alright, Franz, you go get the weapons. Vanessa, you go ahead and scout the area for any Grado soldiers in the vicinity. The rest of us, head for the tiny clump of trees Southeast of here. We can lick our wounds there. Both of you meet us there later. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Watch yer step, girlie!" The man snapped in her direction as she bumped into him.
"Oh… Oh! Sorry, sir!" She apologized frantically, anxious to avoid trouble.
The burly male merely snorted in her direction before stomping off.
Amelia sighed and adjusted the position of her pack on her shoulders, all the while trying not to bump into anyone. The road leading to the heart of the empire was far more crowded than she would have believed possible. It seemed every second that wasn't occupied by skirting around cracks or potholes was taken up with trying to avoid the seemingly endless stream of people, carts, and various beasts of burden hauling said carts.
Gulping, she sidestepped a donkey that walked by with bent neck and drooping ears as it's master berated it unceasingly.
Why are people out here all so… grumpy? Amelia wondered as she continued. They were nothing like the kind and friendly people she knew from Silva and the neighbouring villages.
Maybe it's a side effect of being so rushed. She mused thoughtfully as she skirted by two soldiers marching resolutely by.
"Well, I hope I never end up like these guys." She said with a tiny chuckle.
Glancing up, she saw an inn up ahead. A smile graced her face and her step increased.
"Finally." She blew out in a long rush of air. "A chance to sit down in some peace and quiet."
"WAITER! I distinctly ordered three slabs of roast beef! There's only two here!"
"Ay! What kind of rundown joint makes ale like this? I demand a refund!"
"Hurry up with that stew! I have to be at Ragus by sundown!"
Amelia shook her head. "Okay, amend that." She said to no one in particular as she caught sight of an empty seat, apparently the last available one in the house.. "A chance to sit down."
An instant before she reached the chair, a man for whom 'portly' was a gross understatement settled himself on it and bellowed at the barkeep for a pint of whiskey.
Amelia stared stupidly at the occupied seat for a moment before turning away and rubbing her forehead. "Well, maybe I could lean against a wall or something…"
It was about an hour later that Franz caught sight of the group trying to be inconspicuous by the shade of several trees. They weren't too successful at it, but it was one those 'it really doesn't matter' situations, considering there were no hostile troops in the vicinity.
A fact which I am profoundly thankful for. Franz thought wearily as he tugged at the bag containing the freshly-forged weaponry. The thing weighed a tonne, and his leg wound from earlier wasn't helping any.
As he neared the group, he saw Father Moulder tending to Gilliam's arm wound, while someone garbed almost entirely in white was bandaging the leg of a red-haired mercenary.
"General Seth?" He called. "I've brought the equipment – agh!" He stumbled over a rut in the ground, sending a fresh wave of pain through his leg.
Stupid bandit… He thought to himself as he settled himself onto the grass.
"Oh, are you injured?" A delicate, feminine voice asked. Looking up, he noticed the figure garbed in white was standing next to him, and was in actuality a female.
A stunningly beautiful one, at that. Based on what she was wearing, she was a member of the clergy. Her sapphire eyes looked him over once with concern clearly shining through, and she appeared, well, nervous.
Franz closed his eyes and nodded briefly. "Yes. Knife wound to the shoulder, and a gash on my thigh."
"Oh, a moment, please…" There was a slight pause, and Franz felt himself being engulfed in a wave of soothing energy. When it faded, the dull ache in his shoulder was completely gone, and his pain in his leg had faded.
"Thank you, milady." He said gratefully. The cleric appeared startled at this and reared back slightly.
"Ah, no – I'm no lady… I'm just…" She closed her eyes for a moment and composed herself. "I'm Natasha. I… used to serve in Grado's main temple."
Franz raised an eyebrow. "You're from Grado?"
"Ah… yes."
Hmm… Vanessa did mention something about that earlier… Franz looked up at her. "Are you traveling with us?"
Natasha shrugged and managed a slight smile. "Well, I have nowhere else to go, really."
Franz nodded and closed his eyes. I only hope she knows what she's getting herself into.
Then again, I don't know what I'm getting myself into. Franz let out a snort of silent laughter. "Thanks for healing me."
"No, it's my duty."
Amelia let out a huge yawn as she stumbled along the path illuminated in front of her. After napping through the heat of the afternoon on a rough and scratchy bed, she was making as much use as possible of the cooler nighttime hours to continue her progress towards Grado.
Of course, a fair amount of people followed this line of thinking as well, and the road was just as crowded as ever.
Amelia was now clutching her lance in hand so as not to accidentally wound someone who brushed too close to her. All around her, people were streaming pass, and if snippets of overhead conversations were to serve as any sort of indicator, they weren't in good moods.
Amelia rummaged around her pack, finally drawing out her map. Of course, it was too dark to make out the finely scrawled handwriting – at least not without the aid of artificial illumination. Of course, she had prepared for this beforehand, and now she could-
Amelia frowned as her hand rummaged among the unseen contents of her bag. It had to be in there somewhere…
Her search turned up nothing, and angrily, Amelia yanked the pack open, trying to find what she sought in the din light.
"Oh, come on!" She snapped to no one in particular. "I know I packed a torch before I set out from Serafew!"
However, the glaring lack of torches in her pack remained. Letting loose a frustrated sigh, she snapped her pack shut and hefted it onto her shoulders.
"Guess I'm going to have to find a replacement in the capital." She mumbled to herself. Of course, that would mean even more money taken out of the budget. With a sigh, she continued down the road.
"The fog's getting thicker." The flame-haired mercenary said softly.
Franz glanced up as he silently urged Neige forwards. "You're right. We won't be able to see our hands in front of our faces at this rate."
From behind them, Vanessa smiled. "Although I suppose this means we'll be able to travel with less risk of being spotted by Grado forces.
The company was now nearing Renvall – approximately half a week's travel remained to reach the fortress. Thus far they had managed to avoid detection by staying within the forests of the country, but now they faced the Adlas plains.
Surrounded on both sides by mountains, the plains had to either be directly crossed or bypassed through an extremely long and roundabout route around the mountains, an act that would add another week to their journey, at minimum. After much agonizing, the princess had decided to take the risk of crossing the plains, for the sake of reaching Renvall as soon as possible.
Of course, perhaps whatever higher beings that happened to exist may have been smiling on them this day, for heavy fog had rolled in on them as they were about to cross the area.
The red-haired mercenary – apparently Joshua by name – smirked in response to Vanessa's statement. "Oh, perhaps, perhaps. However, I make it a point to always assume the enemy knows more than you do. Keeps me more prepared that way."
Aside from the noises of their boots and hooves tromping against the damp soil, and the sound of their armour rattling, all was silent. However, Franz couldn't shake the fact that he was starting to have an entirely too familiar bad feeling about this.
Subconsciously, his hand drifted to his sword hilt, and the group moved ever onwards.
Thanks to narugurlee for editing advice. Please review.
