Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 54 Bygones

       Lyse carefully sheathed his sword. He had not fully recovered from the battle yesterday, and he doubts he can take on ten more golems with a hyperborean who actually managed to get the drop on him. But he got the feeling he did not need to be afraid. The fact that this Frostlander actually stopped to talk to him tells Lyse a few things. They are not hostile to him, or likely the Empire for that matter. The fact they are hiding means that he is merely a protector. And the expression he wore tells him that he is wary of him but confident that if Lyse decided to show aggression, he could deal with him. But at the same time, that wariness was stillborn from fear. Lyse may not be alone; he may be waiting for reinforcements. Or he alone may be enough to break whatever facade they are hiding within.

     "Speak warmblood," the Frostlander said in his broken rekeg speech.

     "As I said, I am a knight of the empire," he said. "I did not mean to disturb you, and I mean no harm," he said defensively.

      "You say this," the Hyperborean gestured with his staff. "Yet you offer titles. Do you wish to placate me with the thought that you can single-handedly wipe out my village?"

     "No, no," Lyse said. "I . . . I wish to speak with you."

    "I have no wish to speak with you," The Frostlander said in warning. He turned back to the village, but the golems still looked upon him as if waiting to crush him without thought. Lyse had to think fast. Why was he here? That thing, that wisp of fire that seemed alive and not, leads him here for a reason. And he happens to run into a Frostlander at this time. But where does he goes from here? The Frostlander approached the veil he had created. With a wave of his hand, Lyse could see a shimmering green aura spread through the illusion. The faint traces of trees and shrubs, the artificial darkness, seemed to strengthen and once more become tangible. The FRostlander, sighing raggedly, turned to him briefly before adding into the illusion. But before he was too far in, Lyse spoke hurriedly.

     "I killed a Frostlander yesterday, sir," he spoke quickly but softly. He felt suddenly ashamed. It was strange; he was celebrated for the action all up until now. But to admit to this atrocity before one of their own was a surprisingly easy yet shameful experience. So, as taught to him, whenever he must condone a wrong action, he prostrates himself in the snow, both hands before him in a non-aggressive action. This is not something to be taken lightly by anyone. A knight must only bow to their king. Not been the paladins can be treated to such an expression of sincere devotion. And this gesture can be recognized by any creed. And as Lyse lifted his face, he saw the surprised expression of the Hyperborean looking down at him, halfway through his illusion. His weathered fellow eyes, seemingly seeing something alien, far more confusing in Lyse than he had seen before. Then he narrowed them and then looked away as if he just had his own shameful experience play out in his mind.

    "We were in the midst of battle," Lyse said. "A force of Frostlanders who hailed from Re'Este threatened to attack that day, and we acted quickly. Many men died on those soggy banks, and I had to kill a hyperborean to save my brother."

      "Why do you tell me this," his croaking voice had grown low and cold.

      "Because I felt guilt and shame for my action," Lyse said. "Till these days, I have thought your people merely an obstacle, people just as evil as the creatures I have struggled against till now, horrors you will not believe if I described them. And I understand this assessment to be unfair. I do not think of what I had done as wrong, for it was to save the life of my brother. I ask not your forgiveness but your understanding. Please, here my questions. And I may offer to carry out any request you offer."

       The Hyperborean's eyes once more widened, though it was covered in a stern expression once more. He considered this proposition laid before him as if a master gambler. But he seemed all the more troubled.