"So, what do you want?"
"A glaive or a sword for the young man here." Kerrien pointed at Rithvik who came forward to explain what he was looking for. Kerrien was impressed. The prince knew what kind of weapon suited him. Shytur also looked impressed by the clear instructions.
"I might have what you're looking for," he said grumpily. He led them to a small warehouse next to the forge where all kinds of blunt weapons – from swords to lances and pole-arms – were displayed.
Shytur went directly to a sword of shiny silvery metal and offered it to Rithvik. The prince took it, tried its weight, slashed the air with it, and attempted a couple of fake movements towards an invisible opponent.
Kerrien admired the way he moved. Even when he fought, Rithvik seemed to dance. The famous "sword dance" was probably still taught in his father's times.
"Yes, this will do," Rithvik said at last. "How much is it?"
He glanced at Kerrien when he heard the price. Of course he had no idea if the price was right. Kerrien came forward and looked more closely at the sword. He nodded, giving it back to Rithvik.
"And the scabbard is free," Shytur said, putting the sword in a leather scabbard while Rithvik fished the coins from his purse.
"Is this correct?" he whispered before passing the coins to the blacksmith. Kerrien nodded.
Rithvik walked lightly with a beaming smile once he had his new sword at his side.
"You pay for dinner," Kerrien told him. "I pay for the room."
"Sure." Rithvik's grin didn't falter.
"And before we go to bed I'll give you a lesson on coins."
"Yes, Kerrien. Are we a team?"
"Yes. We split duties and spoils. How does this sound to you?"
Rithvik's smile slowly faded away as he pondered.
"I still think we need to work out the reward system. I'm not happy about how you handled Druxarlo's death," he said at last, as they entered the Heroic Wizard and sat at a corner table for dinner.
"If we're teammates, there's no reward system except what we can earn – jointly," Kerrien replied, amused. "You're not my apprentice or my assistant, so you have my same rights."
"But you're the leader," Rithvik said, frowning in worry.
"I'm older and more experienced, but this doesn't mean you don't have your say," Kerrien said.
Rithvik sighed, staring at the table. "So no more rewards? Not even kisses?"
"I think I gave you way too many kisses for now," Kerrien answered. "We've got work to do. Enough cuddles, all right? We're mercenaries, not puppies."
Rithvik winced but nodded.
"Good boy." Kerrien patted his hand as the maid came to take their order.
4. Beautiful Rider
Rithvik felt like a prince again when he passed through the gates of Cinnae. He was still on foot, since the horse market was outside the walls, but he had clothes that fit him, a travel bag with spare tunics and breeches – and a sword.
The blacksmith had given him a longer blade than his old glaive, but he'd tried the weight and found it perfect. He could get used to modern swords, especially if Kerrien gave him a few lessons.
Before leaving the Heroic Wizard Tavern they'd hidden some gems and coins in the folds of the spare clothes, keeping only a minimum in their purses. Kerrien had become adept at sewing his riches inside his clothes – either hidden pockets or in the hem of tunics and breeches.
Rithvik had tried to do the same, but only managed to prick his fingers with the needle.
"Could I hire someone to do it for me?" he'd asked Kerrien as the mercenary sewed Rithvik's clothes as well.
"If you trust someone," Kerrien had replied without looking up. "That's why I learned to do it myself..."
Kerrien had a point, so Rithvik knew he had to learn. But in the meantime he could show off his rider's skills. He knew about horses and saddles, probably more than Kerrien, and looked forward to traveling on horseback instead of on foot.
They took a road that followed the stone walls of the city to an expanse that was used for the cattle market. Rithvik watched the crowd of peasants and farmers and city dwellers that milled around. The sandy-haired, determined man who was having a discussion with a guard at the entrance of the enclosures. The well-muscled, proud boy who was wearing an odd symbol.
"I like people-watching," he confided to Kerrien as a fair-haired, serious boy riding a mule passed by. "I wonder what they see when they watch me..."
"An apparently foreign, happy young man who is very concerned about his personal space," Kerrien replied without looking at him.
"Huh?" Rithvik stared at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that besides clinging to me, you don't let anyone else invade your personal space. You look foreign, even though you actually come from the past. And you're happy-go-lucky." Kerrien flashed a smile at him. "So that's how they see you, my fallen prince."
"Oh." Rithvik thought about it, but didn't have time to respond.
They reached a place that sold both horses and riding equipment. The spacious shop built against the stone walls of the city smelled of spices and was noisy and dark. The shopkeeper was a woman who was talking with an apprentice. Customers were some children and a group of foreigners, with plainclothes guards keeping an eye on them.
"Welcome, my name is Meridanth, how can I help you?" the shopkeeper said, turning to them. Rithvik thought she was oddly pale – she probably didn't go out much.
"We would like a couple of horses with riding equipment," Kerrien answered.
"Geldings," Rithvik added. "We want geldings, not stallions."
Meridanth glanced at him, then looked back at Kerrien. "Of course your lordships would never mount a mare," she said, a little sarcastic. "Geldings it will be, then. Come with me."
She pulled up her hood as she exited the shop and took them to the paddock.
"We want good riding horses," Kerrien said. "To travel and to hunt."
Rithvik noticed a gelding with an almost white mane and tail on a black body and went that way. The horse stared at him and when he held out a hand, approached.
"Oh, boy, you're beautiful!" Rithvik murmured, caressing the gelding's neck. "And tame. And I really want you." He turned to Meridanth. "How much for this one?"
He thought the horse was overpriced, but Kerrien immediately started haggling, with little effect. The mercenary chose a brown gelding with a black mane and tail, then managed to get a discount on Rithvik's horse.
"It was overpriced," Kerrien muttered as they followed the shopkeeper back inside to buy the riding equipment. "But it's a nice animal."
"Thank you," Rithvik whispered, grateful. "I wouldn't have known how to haggle anyway!"
"You pull out the coins for your mount," Kerrien reminded him as they looked at saddles.
Rithvik grinned. "Of course..."
He decided to call the horse Sharixen, like his long-lost war stallion. He mounted it and followed Kerrien away from Cinnae.
"Now we'll have to feed them," Kerrien said.
"They can stop and graze... We're not in a hurry, are we?"
"No, but we better give them some real food at night... Paying inns' stables is going to deplete our wealth pretty quickly, though."
"Will we still make it through winter?"
"I think so. And we might find other jobs in the meanwhile."
"Good." Rithvik grinned. "So where do we go now?"
Kerrien pondered.
"I think we should head for Appleyard," he said at last.
"The forest Genn kingdom? It was already gone by my father's time! What do you hope to find?"
"Were there any Genn kingdoms left in your father's time?"
"Not in the territory of the Moren Empire... I think the Genn are all gone. They're hiding somewhere. Like the dwarves."
So you're not getting rid of me by looking up the Magical Races, honey. You'll never find them.
Kerrien cursed under his breath. "We'll go to Salamar for now," he
grumbled.
"What's in Salamar?" Rithvik asked. "Some other mage who will tell you she can't help you to get rid of me?"
Kerrien glared at him. "It's a large town of wood and stone, with few gates, built on a river shore. The main craft is weaponsmithing, therefore there's a tavern where all mercenaries meet to exchange stories and find work."
"Oh. So it's, like, your base of operation?" Rithvik asked with genuine curiosity.
"More or less."
The grumpy reply made him think about Braedick. Maybe that was where the guy was. Rithvik decided not to ask this time.
"Will you name your horse?" he asked lightly, changing the subject.
"No, why?" Kerrien answered, jarred.
"I thought it would be nice. Mine is Sharixen."
"Don't grow too attached to it, you might need to sell it at some point..."
Rithvik rolled his eyes and patted the gelding's neck. "You really need to find someone to love, Kerrien," he chided. "I mean, we're teammates..."
Kerrien scoffed. "Feel free to go your way. I don't need an associate..."
You won't get rid of me by being mean, Kerrien... I will seduce you, eventually!
***
Since he was now in totally unfamiliar territory, Rithvik kept his eyes wide open. He asked about the new borders – if any – and political situation of the great plains they were entering at a slow pace.
Their horses were trained for endurance and could cover more miles than both their feet and usual horses, but neither rider spurred them to a trot. The strain on their own bodies while riding long distances was too much, so they kept the daily travels short. If there was no inn in sight, they camped under the stars.
"There is no real road system since the collapse of the Moren Empire," Kerrien explained. "The main towns still standing are well connected, but the rest is falling apart."
Rithvik was glad Sharixen was doing the walking up and down the hills from Cinnae to the plains.
"Will we go to Moriana, eventually?" he asked. "I had heard wonders about the Moren capital."
"It's quickly losing importance, although it's on the same river where Salamar was built. The Ondan cuts the great plains in two and that's where the Genn kingdoms used to meet for their annual fair before the Empire."
"I know that, but I'm wondering why everything Genn is so despised now. I mean, don't you miss them? Their magic and everything?"
"Did you?" Kerrien replied. "You haven't met any either, have you?"
"No, but I always thought that maybe in the future they'd come back," Rithvik said, frowning.
"Obviously not yet." Kerrian scoffed. "Have you figured out how long you've slept?"
"No... maybe some historian can tell us. I remember who the emperor was during my father's reign. Unless you know some history yourself?" He stared, hopeful, at Kerrien who shook his head.
"No, sorry, I don't go beyond my tribe's origins."
"Tribe?" Rithvik asked, surprised.
"On this side of the river it's mostly city-states and some kind of confederation, therefore traveling is almost safe. Bandits won't attack two armed men and the town militia sometimes patrols way beyond the town walls, protecting the villages like that one." Kerrien pointed at a hamlet to their right, but they weren't going to stop there.
Rithvik nodded. "And where are the tribes?" he asked, still curious.
"On the other side of the Ondan it's more no-man's land. Especially to the north, it's just tribes setting up small walled towns and warring with each other. Then there's the Varian and Gallian kingdoms up to the coast that are more well organized. Where I come from... not so much."
"Oh. So you come from a small town."
"They call us barbarians in the bigger towns." Kerrien flashed a smile at him.
Beautiful barbarian, Kerrien! Rithvik grinned. "I find you quite civilized for a barbarian!"
Kerrien laughed. "Maybe because you come from the past... things are changing quickly in towns, but the tribes are probably still pretty much like Ker Eziel used to be."
"Good for me, then... Do you have a map?"
"Yes, here." Kerrien tapped his forehead. "I'm not good with pen and paper, but I have a very good memory and sense of direction, so I never get lost."
"Good," Rithvik said cheerfully. "Because I'm completely and utterly lost! I wouldn't know how to get back to Ker Eziel not even in a hundred years!"
Kerrien chuckled. "There's a university at Raddanmor. Maybe we can find a historian and ask him about the Moren Emperors. Aren't you curious to know how much time has passed?"
"A little," Rithvik admitted. "But I like this brand new world a lot. Even though there's no magic left."
"You had a school of magic at Ker Eziel?"
"Yes. Such schools were everywhere. Human magic, so often not very good."
"And what kind of magic could you do? Besides summoning demons, I mean."
Rithvik rolled his eyes. "I think I summoned Manusia by mistake and could never do it again," he said. "And they never taught me any love spells or things like that. Enchantments, mostly useless, or offensive spells for protection."
"So you're a useless magician, I got it."
"Exactly. I hope you have stopped fearing me."
"Not yet. Did you or did you not try to summon that demon again when you woke up?"
"Yes, I did, but I failed. Maybe I needed to stay at Ker Eziel to succeed... Sorry, but I have no idea of what ties us together or how to free you from this burden."
Kerrien stared at him and he sustained his gaze, serious.
"You should trust me, Kerrien, I'm not trying to hurt you or anything..."
"I know you're not trying to hurt me, but I don't like what ties us. I've had teammates and companions-at-arm, but this is different. It feels forced to me, forced upon me, that's why I'd rather get rid of you. You're a nice guy, Rithvik, but I'd prefer we part ways as soon as you're able to stand on your own in this brand new world, like you call it."
Rithvik looked away and nodded. He gulped his disappointment and kept his mouth shut. He was probably still too dependent on others, but he really didn't want to let go of the handsome rider by his side.
***
They saw the castle towers from a distance, its banners flying in the wind. It looked as if some celebration was going on, and they decided to see for themselves.
"The lord might use a couple more guards if there's trouble," Kerrien said.
Rithvik was curious to see what life was like in castles now, who knew how many years after his father's time. He wasn't going to introduce himself as a prince, but maybe he could pass himself off as a nobleman with a bodyguard.
Or maybe just follow Kerrien's directions and be a guard for once. Except as they got closer to the castle walls and the open gate, his excitement grew.
"They're preparing for a joust!" he said, brightening. "If there's some kind of prize, I could try to earn it!"
"A joust?" Kerrien stared puzzled at him.
"Yes, maybe the lord's son just got knighted and he has to show off his prowess." Rithvik grinned. "You could try to run the quintain if you don't feel like jousting."
"I have no idea of what you're talking about," Kerrien retorted. "I'm not a nobleman, in case you forgot. I'm a mercenary. I go to war. I don't play with weapons."
"Oh. Well, maybe it's time you learn." Rithvik winked and spurred Sharixen to a trot. He'd been the student so far. Might be funny to show something to his grumpy mentor.
Eleven strong, round towers were scattered in a seemingly random pattern, but were connected by giant, vast walls made of light pink stone. Grand windows were scattered here and there around the walls in seemingly perfect symmetry, along with overhanging crenelations for archers.
Plain fields of a type of grass covered most of the fields outside of the castle, adding to the castle's aesthetics. The rocks of the walls were aged and vines and plants grew inside the cracks, but it would last for ages to come.
Rithvik and Kerrien led the horses through the huge gate with hefty metal doors. The castle courtyard was filled with people all around the building walls or leaning out from windows to watch the tournament.
As Rithvik had imagined, it was a celebration for the young lord's knighting, and the use of heavy armors and weapons was limited, putting emphasis on horsemanship.
"You don't have an armor, not even a chain-mail!" Kerrien objected as Rithvik signed up for the the quintain.
"I'll borrow a shield. I'll be fine." He grinned. "I'm sure you could try the quintain too, you're a fine rider after all."
Kerrien wasn't convinced and decided to wait and see what the game was about before committing. Rithvik shrugged and joined the young knight and his elders preparing for the tournament.
Villagers and servants cheered as the dozen knights, both old and new, gathered with their helmets gleaming in the sun, their swords hanging on their left side, their shields brightly colored – and three of them brand new, including Rithvik's, who was the same age as the young lord and his best friend.
Lances ready, the knights opted to run at the quintain instead of jousting. Rithvik clutched his borrowed lance and shield as he waited for the others to make their attempts.
The mannequin mounted on a pivot and armed with a club unsaddled more than one, especially the younger and less skillful. But Rithvik won by striking the wooden post cleanly with his lance, avoiding being hit by the revolving arm.
"Well done, young man, you can teach some tricks to my son, here," the lord of the castle said, as the knights bowed in front of his covered stall. "What did you say your name is?"
"Rithvik of Ker Eziel," he answered proudly.
"Welcome to Castle Tobran, Rithvik of Ker Eziel. I'm Lord Tybalt and this is my son Ulric."
The young man nodded without smiling after being defeated on his knighting day. Rithvik couldn't blame him for not being happy. I shouldn't have stolen his victory, his father's knights were letting him win, but... He hadn't had so much fun in a long time.
It was lunch time by now, and everybody was heading back to the great hall for a banquet celebration. Kerrien looked impressed by his prowess.
"That's a dangerous game you play, you could have been hurt," the mercenary said as they washed their hands before sitting at the long tables, where food and wine abounded. A minstrel sang in the background, unheard.
Fairy Tales Revisited on Silvery Earth Page 20