Rolling along the pavement under the morning light, a curros drove through the hilly streets of the city of Hezaran. Through the vehicle's windows, its two passengers observed the characteristic brick blocks of houses and buildings in the settlement. Since they got on - and long before that - they had exchanged few words. They sat in silence, pretending to ignore each other's presence.101Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ54I18ycZjR
One of them decided to break the icy silence, turning her head to direct a gaze at the other.101Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi0nucjvG4Q
"When we reach the Netzach station, you'll go your own way," she reminded him, with coldness.
Mavros continued to gaze out at the passing scenery or pretended to. Luciara frowned slightly, feeling his deliberate indifference.
"Are you listening?" she asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.
The knight finally shifted his gaze toward her.
"I know. I haven't forgotten what we agreed with your mother," he replied with similar dryness but maintaining his usual composure. "There's no need to remind me."
Following their embarrassing incident in Lord Galeras' balenion at the residence the day before, Menuha had a private discussion with each of them. Based on their comments, she reached a conclusion that was accepted by both without objection: their time traveling together had to come to an end.
"Hump!" Luciara shot a disapproving glance at the knight, crossing her arms.
It is definitely the best choice, Mavros thought, fully convinced he was doing the right thing. He observed her for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to the window, reflecting on the private conversation he had with her mother.
Why does he change completely as soon as someone tries to delve into his identity? Why is he still so upset after a silly antic like that? Luciara wondered deep within herself.
In fact, it was the knight who had first proposed to her mother that they part ways after the awkward incident. And Luciara, driven by the heat of the moment, agreed. Although her sour expression was far from suggesting it, she had begun to regret it that morning. Mavros's unwavering decision and his lack of willingness to change his mind only frustrated her more.
Why am I the one who has to 'apologize' to him? He should be the one apologizing first for how rude he was to me! If he were even remotely normal, I would never have thought of such an outrageous act. He had the audacity to call me a 'brat' to my face when he has to wear that ridiculous armor even to bathe. Oh, what an 'adult'! The champion of maturity! She said to herself, relying on her youthful pride to justify and keep her equally childish resentment alive.
Suddenly, the curros began to brake until it came to a stop in front of the entrance to a broad building. Its facade was a small clock tower with a couple of columns in front of its doors, elevated and framed in an arched shape.
The chauffeur was the first to open the door and disembark, followed by the passengers, who followed suit to retrieve their belongings from the rear compartments.
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***
So, this is what these stations look like, Mavros thought, admiring the facilities they had seen a few minutes earlier, both he and the one who would soon cease to be his guide. Just like the exterior, the interiors were equally spacious, with a high ceiling.
Several seats were arranged in a couple of spacious and opposite corners. Groups of people occupied some of them with varying amounts of luggage, from small bags to loaded backpacks like the one Luciara was carrying.
"If you want, I can carry your belongings," Mavros offered, aware of her discomfort. "I can do that for you before we part ways."
The platinum-haired young woman shot him a sharp look.
"Didn't you say I had to go through this kind of trials to become a Holy Warrior? Why didn't you say the same thing yesterday during that damn hike?" she asked with disdain, furrowing her brow. "Don't come to me now with 'chivalry.'"
She's definitely working hard to stay upset, the knight thought first after her resolute response, remaining unruffled as he understood how she felt. He averted his gaze, focusing on his surroundings. Ironically, even though the distance is greater, this journey will be much shorter than yesterday's, he recapped the information he had been given up to that point. We're going to use a 'sobbah' to get to Netzach in less than two hours... I've read a bit about those machines before. They're similar to the 'curros,' but much larger, more powerful, and they're 'bound' to the 'rails' of their tracks. This will be my first time riding one of them.
Luciara paused in front of a wall-mounted clock, with the name 'Netzach' written in stylized letters above it.
It should be arriving any moment now, the young woman assessed, realizing that it was around five minutes away. While she and the knight remained engrossed in the sign, some people approached and stopped a few meters behind them.
"Mavros?" A familiar voice called his name.
He and Luciara turned to face the speaker.
"Sheida!" Mavros greeted him warmly, walking over to where the young man was standing.
Sheida had a large backpack on his back and was accompanied by two adults with similar luggage. All three of them were dressed in their distinctive leather vests, shirts, brightly colored pants, and pointed shoes.
"It's great to see you!" the knight said to the young musician in the same relaxed and regular speech he used with him in the dungeons. "I didn't think we'd meet again."
"Uh?"
Perplexed, Luciara remained attentive to the sudden conversation that had just started.
Is that little boy among the campers he rescued yesterday? she wondered. The knight had mentioned the Ayarian camp. But still... Why did Mavros greet him with such familiarity? Does he know him from before that?
Sheida broke into a wide smile.
"I didn't think I’d see you either! You have no idea how relieved we are to know you're alive!" he exclaimed to the knight, brimming with happiness to confirm that the concern that had troubled him since the previous day had not materialized. "We thought that Holy Warrior was going to kill you!"
Darn it! Mavros clenched his teeth, uneasy about the leakage of that information he had tried to keep secret. He cast a quick glance at Luciara. Her raised eyebrows signaled that she had heard it perfectly, just as he had feared.
Wait a second.. Did he say a Holy Warrior tried to kill him?... she thought. He didn't tell me anything about that... Wasn't this Macario supposed to help him with the Ashaim?
"Sheida, please lower your voice!" one of the adult men in his group reprimanded him, sensing the knight's discomfort.
"I... I'm sorry, Baba," the young man apologized, touching his neck from behind, aware that his scolding was justified.
Ba…?
…ba?
Mavros and Luciara were equally intrigued by the mention of that word. Even without knowing the language of origin, they could easily guess its meaning. The man in question stepped closer to address them.
"Please forgive my son's indiscretion, Ser," he apologized. "I understand better than anyone how delicate your situation is."
“Don't worry. This place is safe," the knight replied as his amethyst eyes scanned the newcomer from head to toe, surprised by the contrast with his son. Unlike Sheida, he was a much taller and bulkier man. His face was round, with circumspect amber eyes, a broad nose, and thick mustaches like a feline's. He opened and extended his right hand to Mavros, uniting it with his in a firm handshake.
"Ayman," he introduced himself. He briefly looked at Sheida. "You already know my son." He shifted his gaze to his other companion. "He is Jabir, my partner and friend."
Jabir approached to pay his respects with a handshake and a slight bow. He was slimmer than Ayman. His beard was just as full but lacked mustaches.
Bored with the adults' monotonous introduction ritual, Sheida turned his head to another point in the waiting room.
"Ah!" He startled as he spotted her.
Luciara of Salamandera? he said to himself, blinking a couple of times to confirm that she was indeed there. She was wearing a blue long-sleeved blouse and a knee-length black skirt. She's... as beautiful as ever. It's the first time I've seen her up this close, he thought, gazing at her, his heart racing and his hair standing on end. Why is she here? ... Oh!
Luciara turned toward his direction.
Shyly looking away, Sheida was forced to break that hypnotic trance. He refocused his attention on the wandering knight, who continued to converse with Ayman and his friend.
Is Mavros... traveling with her? the boy wondered with great curiosity.
"My son hasn't stopped talking about you. We had a hard time believing it until we saw you yesterday," Ayman told him. "Without your intervention and that of the masked fencer, we wouldn't be here. Both of you were a blessing from Sensham, and we are eternally grateful."
Suddenly, a horn blared throughout the waiting room, repeating at least a couple of times. Everyone rose from their seats and began to form a line to go through an open and spacious access that led to the outside.
"That's our 'sobbah,'" Ayman informed the knight, preparing with his son and associates to join the line. The horn announced the arrival of the transport. "It's a pity, but we have to say goodbye. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ser."
"Are you taking the 'sobbah' to Netzach?" Mavros asked. "Well, then we'll be travel companions, because that's my destination as well."
Luciara furrowed her brow, crossed her arms, and began to tap her right foot impatiently on the ground, growing frustrated with the complete indifference he had shown her during the conversation.
“My destination”... she mentally mimicked him, Why are you talking as if I'm not going to board, you imbecile? You couldn't get on that 'sobbah' without me.
A distant and steady sound, typical of machinery in action, began to be heard, growing louder and more noticeable as it drew closer.
"That's right! You told me you were going to Netzach!" Sheida said to Mavros, excited about what that implied. "How about you sit with us?"
The machine arrived at the station, partially revealing itself through the entrance as it came to a stop. It was a train: an immense, streamlined metal worm, composed of several sections linked together by couplings. People moved more quickly to begin boarding.
"Sure, why not?" Mavros accepted Sheida's offer to travel together. He turned to Luciara. "Don't you mind, Luciara?"
She took several steps, leaving them behind.
"Do as you please," she retorted, looking back at him resentfully before joining the line.
Well...
Mavros and the other men were left speechless as they watched her move forward, all equally touched by that short but sharp verbal lash.
"Isn't she... Ser Janpelan's daughter? The captain of the Cirence garrison," Jabir said, taking a little longer than Sheida to identify her. He looked at the knight in amazement. "Are you traveling with her, Ser?"
Ayman and Sheida fixed their eyes on Mavros with similar interest.
"I was," he corrected. "Until today, I served as her 'escort.'"
They all raised their eyebrows.
"You were her escort?" Sheida exclaimed, astonished and excited by such a statement. Hearing it was like one of his heroes living out one of his most intimate and far-fetched dreams. "What happened between you two? She seems very angry with you."
"It's a long story," he excused himself with some reluctance. The last thing he wanted was to narrate it.
Ayman noticed how the line of travelers was beginning to thin out as its last remaining members boarded the train.
"Let's go. We'll continue talking in the 'sobbah,'" he told everyone. "If we don't hurry, we'll miss it."
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***
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"Hahaha!" The three Ayarians burst into laughter, entertained by the story Mavros had just told them. The four of them occupied a group of adjacent seats inside the vast moving train. It had been a little over an hour since it had departed from Hezaran.
"Why wouldn't he have hit you?" Jabir said, beginning to stifle his laughter. "If I were that Macario, I would've punched you too."
"I couldn't help it... I mean, with everything he said about her, I thought she must be beautiful," the knight replied, following the flow of his fabricated story.
To explain the commander's aggressive reaction they had witnessed at the camp, he invented that, under his alias of Macario, he had mentioned to him in their conversation that he was going to get married soon. As part of his lie, the knight claimed that, in a bold jest, he repeatedly asked the warrior for the address of his fiancée to see who could marry her first.
"But as you could see, he was quite 'jealous'... He completely lost it," Mavros continued, jokingly. He told them that's why she slapped him and dragged him into the depths of the forest to find out if he was a “secret lover” of his girlfriend. "It took me quite a while to convince him that it was all a joke."
"I imagine that after that experience, you'll never toy with the heart of a man in love again, Ser," Ayman quipped.
"That's right. At least not with that of a Holy Warrior."
"Hahaha!" The three listeners laughed again.
Thank goodness... I didn't think they'd believe so easily the string of nonsense I came up with on the spot, Mavros thought, relieved to have achieved the desired effect. He turned his head to the window of his seat, adopting a meditative posture. This machine moves like the wind, just as I read in the Code. I'm not surprised we'll reach Netzach today.
Valleys and forests passed before their eyes in the blink of an eye. He saw the window as a constantly changing canvas.
"By the way, Mavros..." Sheida called him in a low voice, causing him to shift his attention to him. "You haven't told us what happened with Luciara..." He made his interest in knowing more clear. The knight gave him and the others a brief summary of his experiences with the Salamandera family since the day before. "If she helped you so much, why is she so angry with you?"
Mavros fell silent, shifting his gaze to focus on the girl, who was watching him attentively from her seat, two rows behind the others.
For a moment, I mistook you for your mother... he thought, somewhat intimidated by her watchful eyes.
"Mavros?" Sheida called him again, confused by his introspection.
"Let's just say..." the knight began to answer, meeting his gaze. "We had some 'differences'... That's all I can tell you."
The young man opened his mouth slightly, impressed by the seriousness with which he said it. Then, he closed it, along with his eyes, mimicking his solemnity.
"I feel you..."
He placed the palm of his right hand on his knee, nodding a couple of times.
"I don't blame you. I feel your pain, Mavros, I feel it deeply..."
"Oh?"
Mavros looked at him, perplexed, seeing how he held onto him while maintaining his solemn demeanor.
"She's famous for her complicated nature. Many tried before you, and their success was just as fleeting... She always kicked them to the curb. I even heard once that she set one guy's rear end on fire. That's why I'm content to admire her from afar. If someone like you and those Elvirean nobles couldn't win her over, how could a poor Ayarian artist like me?"
"Sheida...?" The knight smiled nervously. His cheeks flushed slightly at the insinuations. "Where are you going with this?"
"What else?" Sheida replied, opening his eyes wide. "She enchanted your heart just like she did with mine. You tried to conquer her."
"INAN?!" Mavros exclaimed. His shout was so loud that it startled several passengers in nearby seats. "What kind of scoundrel do you take me for? How could you come up with such foolishness? I've never had any such intentions!" He scolded, quickly regaining his composure as he noticed the unwanted attention. "I decided to part ways with her for very different reasons."
"Oh, really?" Sheida crossed his arms with a mischievous smile. "So, what were those 'reasons'?"
Should I tell him a bit? Mavros wondered. He didn't like that the young man had these fantasies in his head. "As I told you all before... I'd rather not mention them." In the end, he decided not to. The incident and its subsequent arguments had been so uncomfortable for him that he preferred to try to bury them in the depths of his memories as soon as possible.
Sheida released his arms. "Alright, alright, I won't press further," Sheida said, closing his lips with a friendly expression. "But I want you to be clear that I'm not a jealous lunatic like that Macario."
His father and Jabir smiled, entertained by the brief argument between him and the knight. The former rummaged a bit in his backpack at his feet and pulled out a particular object.
"Ser Mavros," he called while extending the object, catching his attention. "Please, have this."
"Hm?" It was a gold chain with a small pendant made of the same material, shaped like a wheel with several spokes radiating from its center.
"Beautiful," Mavros said, examining it in awe. That wheel was none other than one of the symbols of Maskirio, the primary hero and prophet of his religion. "Is this yours?"
"No," Ayman replied, shaking his head.
"Then, why do you carry it with you?"
Ayman looked him in the eyes with great seriousness. "I'm not sure if you’ll understand, Ser, but we follow a different faith." He explained curtly, diverting his gaze for a brief pause. It was a topic he didn't like to discuss much with foreigners due to past experiences. "In addition to music, my caravan has been dedicated to the sale and crafting of handicrafts for generations. Since this region has centuries of Maskirian tradition, we often trade in items with its symbolism."
"I see," Mavros said, bringing his left hand to his chin. "You are merchants and artisans."
Ayman nodded, feeling more at ease as he noticed that the knight didn't seem in the least bit displeased by this confession.
"The Maskirian Week is one of the best times of the year for us. Among all the cities in these lands, Netzach has the most vibrant commercial life. My people and I plan to stay there for a few days this year and sell as much as we can during the festivities."
"Forgive me for asking, but couldn't you have problems with their authorities?" Mavros said with genuine concern. "Sheida told me they are quite unjust towards you. If they detained him in Cirencre just for playing music in public, I can't imagine what might happen to you there."
"My son brought upon himself what happened in Cirencre. He's well aware of their rules, and we've warned him several times not to play there without obtaining a license, but he ignored us," Ayman reprimanded Sheida with his gaze. The young man smiled nervously. "However, he was not lying when he told you about Netzach becoming an impossible place to live. Its ruler since the end of the Nefeshic Wars, King Renardin of Grianz, despises our people and has carried out numerous expulsions and mass detentions over the years. All under the excuse of combating the terrorists from the Sulfnats, the Kingdoms of Ayaria."
"Many of our families have been living in Netzach since its centuries of peace, so accusing us of being Sulfnat agents is absurd. Nonetheless, we paid the price anyway," added Jabir.
There was a brief pause, and the three Ayarians lowered their gaze to the floor.
"Some even died, tortured in the dungeons, despite being completely innocent," Ayman said in a solemn tone.
"I... I don't know what to say; it's much worse than I imagined," Mavros said, understanding how difficult it must have been for them. He swallowed before continuing. "But... why aren't you worried about running such great risks now? In a time like this, the city's security should be on high alert."
"Because we've obtained trade permits to move freely within the city during this week," Ayman replied, raising his head again. He smiled with closed lips. "Even King Renardin and his vassals are obligated to respect them as members of the League of Viceroyalties. Thanks to these permits, we can visit our old home for a few days without worrying about their abuses."
"That's good," Mavros said, as pleased as Ayman to hear it. "At least the other kingdoms have been more considerate towards you."
Ayman furrowed his brow slightly, returning to his usual seriousness. "Yes, all things considered, I can say they have."
The train began to gradually slow down. Numerous houses and farms became visible on the horizon from the windows.
"We're almost there," Ayman announced, looking out the window from their group of seats.
"How do you know?" Mavros asked. During the journey, the train had made occasional stops in other cities with similar outskirts, so it was a reasonable question.
"Because I recognize the outskirts of the capital," the merchant replied. "They haven't changed much in nineteen years."
Nineteen years... Those words carried a weight that didn't go unnoticed by Mavros. The weight of the time that this man, his family, and many others had been forced to live in exile because of an unjust king.
"Oh!" He remembered the chain Ayman had given him, which he had held in his hands until now. "Take this; I almost forgot to return it to you."
"No, no," Ayman shook his head, smiling kindly. "You don't have to return it. I gave it to you as a gift."
"A gift?" Mavros gazed at it for a few seconds, having difficulty accepting it. "But you could make a decent amount of money by selling it…"
"I have several similar ones, so I don't mind giving one for free to someone who deserves it," Ayman assured him. "See it as my token of gratitude, not only to you, but also to one of your warriors who saved me and my family during the massacre in Netzach. In fact, your armor resembles his quite a bit, Ser."
Do I resemble the warrior who saved them? That Abiyr mentioned by Sheida in the dungeons? That comment, while quite vague, intrigued Mavros. Now, not only did his armor make him mistaken for an Abiyr, the dark knights of the Nefeshic Wars, turned into a feared and despised legend by the Kingdoms of Elvira and the Sulfnats of Ayaria, but at least one person had compared him to a specific one.
"I'll accept this gift with pleasure. Thank you very much, sir Ayman," the knight told the merchant, genuinely pleased. "If you don't mind, could you tell me more about that massacre and the warrior who rescued you?"
Ayman would grant that request during the few minutes left before the train's arrival at the capital station. Unfortunately, they were unaware that the countdown to an unpleasant surprise awaiting them at its gates had already begun.
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