War Of Men

Merari

Three more days. Every step that left her feet aching was made bearable by how soon it would end. As privileged as it made her sound, the pilgrimage had been one of the worst experiences of her life thus far. On multiple levels, it was unfamiliar and torture.

Firstly, she struggled with how strenuous the journey was. While the first few days were spent on flat terrain, they soon started to walk across mountain tops. Since the former had already made Merari ache, the transition to hiking left every muscle in her body exhausted. She'd never be one for much exercise, using ballet and horse-riding to keep in shape, fencing too until she'd broken one too many epées. Never before had she been required to walk for hours on end.

The second issue was keeping her mouth shut. Far too many thoughts drifted into her head and not sharing them was a trial. At least once an hour, the Chèr would have to speak a word of warning because she'd opened her mouth to ramble about something or other. Each evening she had to talk for an hour straight to release all the bottled up energy.

Last but definitely not least came the unsanitary nature of everything. Around five days into their journey, the precipitation had started, turning dirt into mud. On the eighth day it had turned to snow, which had melted quickly, but had further muddied the path. Since then, Merari had fallen into the mud a few times, often in areas in which there was also horse manure. The stench of the manure mixed with her sweat, causing Merari to gradually lose her will to live. Each night she'd scrub herself until her skin was raw and she could only smell soap.

On the tenth day, Merari had been counting the minutes until she could bathe herself clean when they turned off the main path. She opened her mouth to question it.

'There's a village we can stay in here.'

Merari thought nothing of it until they passed the first field of cows. A vile scent filled their surroundings. Merari produced a handkerchief and covered her mouth and nose. Some chuckles accompanied the gesture. Merari just about stopped herself from starting an argument, but failed in suppressing a glare.

The stench did not improve; if anything, it worsened. The village the Chèr had mentioned turned out to be an agricultural settlement. Women in shawls and thick, homemade skirts hurried around with baskets of eggs and jugs of milk. Kids chased each other through the streets, most faces smudged with a bit of dirt. The houses were wooden and wore telltale signs of past repairs: a lighter plank of wood here, an excessive amount of nails there. Merari had never seen the likes before.

People nodded to the Eseterrians as they passed, but their smiles faded when they saw the crowd of pilgrims only to reappear when they saw Medea of all people. The Voire hugged one person after the other, murmuring words of greeting. Merari wondered whether she was dreaming.

A woman approached the Chèr and curtsied lowly. 'Sir, I know we agreed to house the Eseterrians and their guard, but we cannot possibly provide for all these pilgrims.'

'I assume you're the Hestia Medea mentioned?''

'Yes.'

'Well, Hestia, I'm not asking you to house or provide for the pilgrims. I've made it perfectly clear to them that if they insist on coming, they must make their own arrangements. I trust word hasn't left the village that we're staying here?'

'Everybody's been quiet and if any strangers came, we would know, sir.' She handed him a slate. 'Here's the list of beds per house. We've made sure there's always at least two so that an Eseterrian has a guard with her.'

Medea strolled over and took a look at the list. 'Arcane should stay with the Chryslers, they have all the facilities she'll need downstairs. I can see Kaya being comfortable with the Tephons, it's always freezing there so she won't overheat.'