Song of the Piper

::24:: The Chosen Path (Part 2)

Music is Northern Lights from the Assassin's Creed Rogue OST. Play it!

Picture: I imagine the wastelands to be more...barren, but the image otherwise fits the dark mood!

******

As promised, we set out for Erstürnach the next morning. I hadn't very much to pack, so I had gotten into the carriage without a fuss. Besides, whatever I wanted, surely I could conjure. All I truly needed was my flute. And my wits.

Or what little remained of it.

It was a surprisingly small entourage. One carriage, three Magi, five horses, and seven regular sorcerers. It was a smaller travelling party than the one Lord Himmel had taken on the cleansing ritual. At that time, we weren't even looking for trouble, yet trouble came to us in the form of Olsterhein, that now-forgotten village.

However, this time, we were headed to a fallen city. Its Fountain was dry; surely monsters were overrunning the area.

I hoped that I hadn't made the wrong choice after all.

But then again, we had two experienced Magi among our midst. If anyone could fend off monsters, it was them.

I pondered upon the matter as we set up camp for the night. Three of the sorcerers—barrier experts, I heard from Heidi, who had come along—had just finished drawing the wards around the campsite. The rest were busy erecting tents, kindling fires and the like. Meanwhile, Lady Anya and Lady Gertrude stood at the far end of the circle, silhouettes shadowed in the depth of the night, deep in conversation.

I sighed on the log Heidi had used as my makeshift seat. I'd offered to help the party in whatever way I could, but all of them had effectively discarded me to the side. I couldn't tell if it was because I was a lady in their eyes, to not be loaded with any work; or if it was because they thought manual labour of any sort would be far too taxing for a cripple.

Most likely the latter. Even as a Magus, I didn't come off as competent.

I pushed my frustrations and worries of the uncertain future ahead away. Instead, I lifted my face to the sky. Silvery stars speckled my vision, so far and distant and high above that I felt small and insignificant by comparison. No moon was in sight. I inhaled deeply, letting the cool night air fill my lungs. A faint heat prickled my skin, and as I fixated my eyes on the view, the chatter of the sorcerers were carried upon the wind and into my ears.

I felt safer than I'd ever been in a long while.

I closed my eyes, allowing the serene atmosphere to sink into my bones. Funny how I felt safer here, in the middle of nowhere with only chalk-scribbled words on the ground for protection, rather than in Starkfurt, nestled in between mountains and offering a proper barrier on its borders.

Still, I'd take Starkfurt over Heidelberg and Hamelin any day.

I slowly opened my eyes to the world. The stars continued to dance in the sky. They were achingly beautiful.

I suddenly wondered if Papa Gunter was watching the very same stars. I missed him so badly. I missed his terrible jokes, his deft fingers, scarred over the years of woodwork, his quick smiles and rumbling laughter, his tales of what life was before the plague.

A pang shot up my chest. A lump formed in my throat. Saints above, I missed him so much. His messy brown hair, his kind brown eyes and sturdy jaw. Everything.

No, this is not a time for crying, I scolded myself, hastily wiping away my unformed tears.

So I thought about other things. Like Anton's memory. Maria was my mother. But she looked so much like Elise. And my actual name was Elise?