Chapter Five
“Ah, that is wretched.” Craeft said, his face scrunched as he downed the potion the Healer’s assistant had given him, trying to hold back his gag reflex as he finished it. It was wretched, the vile green concoction tasting like burnt crattlerat that had been left out for too long, but he couldn’t knock the results. He could feel his wounds begin to heal, the cuts and gashes and the deep wound in his shoulder sealing up as the Elixir of Mending did its job, sealing up the wounds. “Rancid mess, why couldn’t they make it taste any better?”
The healer was silent as she grabbed another a small round container full of Bruise Balm from a small cabinet, the smell of burnt wood entering his nose. She dabbed a little bit of the balm on her hand, the purple goop lit up by the blue-flame burning lanterns hanging around the tent. She rubbed a little on one of his bruises, a stinging sensation emanating from it. He grit his teeth as it felt his face burn for a few seconds, before the pain ended. He reached a hand up, skin touching skin as he had stripped out of his armor, having been left with a long pair of brown trousers, and touched his cheek.
“No pain.” Craeft mused. “Stuff really works. Shame it’s got to be so awful.”
“I see you’re all better.” Veliane said as she walked through the opening in the tent he was in, the bruises on her face having disappeared just like Craeft’s own. “Especially if you can run your mouth like that. I would think you’d be more appreciative. After all, the healer could’ve let your wounds heal naturally and without using any disinfectant spells.”
“Sorry,” Craeft shrugged, wincing at the freshness in his shoulder after the fact. It seemed that though the potion healed it, the new nerves and flesh were still raw. “Just hate hospitals, that’s all. The fact that the medicine tastes like raw sewage doesn’t help matters.”
The triage they had found themselves in, after dropping off Sasha at the safe zone in District One, may not have been a hospital but it was close enough. The smell, the sight of all that medicine in those cabinets, and the Healers moving about reminded him of the time his mother had ended up in the hospital all those years ago.
Her form still as she breathed slowly, her eyes closed as he wondered if she’d wake up.
It still disturbed him.
“Only the results matter. Besides, you’ll get used to the taste.” She said as she sat in a chair next to him. The healer, seeming to find her job satisfactory, walked out of the small tent and left the two alone. “I’m just happy to be out of the fight. Those Lusus and their teeth and claws, and,” Her eyes took on a slightly distant look, fear running through them, “All those bodies,” She shivered, “I had hoped that my four years would be simple.”
“I thought the same. It’s been forty years without a major Lusus invasion so I thought that maybe things would be a bit quiet at first. We probably wouldn’t even have fought many Lusus till we had a few more missions under our belt.” Craeft shook his head. “Guess that idea went down the drain. Still, we did get to cut down some of the abominations and save a couple lives,” Even if he didn’t make it in time to save Sasha’s father, his thoughts derided him, “so I can’t say it’s all bad.”
“Says the one in it for the glory.” She frowned as she crossed her arms. “I just wanted to get this over with so I could go home and go back to being a merchant. Four years of doing train missions would’ve been fine with me.”
“Even if it would be boring?” Craeft asked.
“Even then.” Veliane replied, letting her arms fall to her side. “Besides, at least my beauty wouldn’t be marred. Getting knocked around by some Lusus was not what I wanted to do today. Or ever for that matter.”
“I don’t think a few Lusus could take your looks from you.” Craeft said. He didn’t realize how smooth what he just said was till he saw her cheeks light up a bit, her frown turning upward slightly. “I-I mean-“
“Oh, what did you mean?” She asked, her tone seemingly pleased with his words. Craeft felt a blush of his own form on his face as he was put on the spotlight. He ran a hand through his blond hair, trying to think up any excuse to get him out of this situation.
“I uh…I just meant….” He bit his lip. He had never been good with girls. He needed to steer this conversation away, and quickly before he embarrassed himself. “So uh, how are things going in the city?” He asked, trying to change the subject. She looked at him for a moment with those pretty violet eyes of hers, before conceding. It seemed she noticed him trying to move the conversation away, but she’d allow it, just this once.
“Honestly,” she shrugged, “I have no clue. There’s been no word of the lockdown ending, so the only thing I can guess is that the fighting is still going on.” She sat next to him on a chair, the old wooden piece creaking slightly under her. “But I’m going to ignore that and relax while I can.”
“Hey, if it weren’t for the Healer’s feeding me those vile things-“ Craeft said.
“Potions, Craeft. They were potions.” Veliane interrupted.
“Vile things.” He stressed out, the concoctions disgusting taste still on his tongue. “I’d be doing the same. Hard to relax when you have to swallow that nasty mess.” He stuck his tongue out. “Though its not like I can do much else with my exhaustion. Best to let the toxins out now and relax where it’s safe, then end up as the next meal if a Lusus happens to come slinking around.”
“As if one would get in here.” Veliane said. “They’d be skewered by all the squires and knights in here, never mind the enforcers guarding the place from outside.”
“You never know Veliane. I mean, they did manage to get into this place in the first place, and the wall on the outside looked pretty intact to me.” Craeft said. “So they had to get in somehow.”
“And that’s for Sir Finguine to figure out. Right now, I just want to stay as far away from combat as possible.” Veliane said. She ran a hand through a pouch on her armor and pulled out a small round fruit. “Here. I managed to find us some good food around this place. Not the seafood I’m used to, but right now, beggars cannot be choosers.”
Craeft took a look at the small yellow fruit, before taking a bite out of it. Its skin crunched a little, before the sour taste filled his mouth.
“Mmm, that’s pretty good.” He chewed on the tough piece in his mouth, the fruit’s skin being a bit thicker than he was used too. “Hard to get through though.”
“Huh.” She ached an eyebrow at him. “Usually everyone gets all puckered up when they eat a LimLim fruit. Not a lot of people can handle the sourness.”
“Oh, that’s because my mom really loves sour stuff.” He shrugged, taking another bite out of it and savoring the flavor. He swallowed the next bit before he spoke again. “So she cooked a lot of it. Guess I just kind of grew used to it over the years.”
“Doesn’t sound as good as the food back home, but it does sound like a place with an interesting cuisine.” She snagged a fruit of her own out of the pouch, a green spiky looking fruit the size of her fist. “Perhaps you and I will be able to visit it some time.”
Craeft considered it. “Yeah, you’d get to meet my family. My mom can cook us up some nice stew, and I promise you it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.” He grinned. “Heck, I could even make you something if you want. Granted, it isn’t as good as hers, but it’s still pretty tasty.”
“You can cook?” She asked, a look of approval in her eye.
“Yep. Mom taught me how to do it. Used to help her in the kitchen all the time.” He took a final bite out of the fruit, savoring the bitter taste. He took a few moments before he spoke again. “I can whip us up something fierce as long as I got some ingredients. Just hope you like tart tasting food.”
“As long as it isn’t that crattlerat stuff you were talking about, then I bet it’ll taste good.” She allowed a slight shiver to run through her body. “Still can’t believe you eat rodent meat.”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” Craeft said, a small smile
playing across his face. He stood up, wincing slightly at the ache of his core and the fresh soreness from the recently regenerated flesh. “Ah, still hurts a little.”
“Just don’t move too quickly now.” She said as she stood up as well, having finished her little snack. “The healer said we should take things slow for a few hours at the least, to let our bodies fully recover. Granted, I don’t need that long, since I’m always at my best.” She let a small smile cross her face as she flipped her black hair. “But we should always follow the healer’s orders.”
“I’ll take it easy, but I’m not going to be stuck in the chair for several hours.” He walked towards the opening of the tent, Veliane trailing behind him as he lifted the fold, stepping outside the tent. He winced, his hand moving to block his eyes as the light blinded him for a moment.
He saw several healers walking around the camp, healing those with minor injuries with spells and potions alike. The seriously injured would obviously go to the hospital where more equipment was ready to handle them. A few chairs and tables were spread around the triage, patients recovering as they walked around. A few people he recognized sat at the nearest table, one of them looking at Craeft intently.
Another pair of emerald eyes, the same color as his own, met Craeft’s as he glared at the owner of them.
His cousin Cenric, didn’t seem to be in any better condition than he did, clad in nothing but trousers just like him. A large pink scar ran across his chest, though it was quickly fading as the healing did its work, the potions mending his flesh till it looked as if he had never been injured in the first place. Despite his condition however, he still had that same arrogant smirk on his face, one that Craeft just wanted to punch off of him.
If only he could avoid the consequences of doing that to a noble…
With Cenric were his two teammates, Fedor Victorovich and Deroma Ni’ Scurra.
Craeft knew both of them a little, though he didn’t have fond memories of either of them. Having had no friends when he entered the Knight Academy, he thought it would be nice to make a fresh start.
That had backfired spectacularly.
Fedor was the first. He was a of average height, a few inches shorter than Craeft, with bright brown hair, bright red eyes, and sun-kissed skin. He stood with distinction, having come from a long line of men and women that had joined the knighthood and the military, with a few dabbling in the profession of the hunters as well. Craeft thought that it would be nice to befriend the boy, though that had turned out to be a bad idea.
Once it came out about his last name, and that there were no known Proudhills with his first name, the conclusion was obvious.
He was illegitimate.
After that, Fedor had simply quit talking to him entirely, content on ignoring his existence despite his attempts at speaking with the teen. It had hurt, but it was something Craeft had grown used to, so he had moved on.
Deroma had hurt worse. She was a waif of a girl, around five foot three, with long orange hair and blue eyes hidden behind a pair of circular glasses. She had pale skin, with a few freckles dotting her cheek. She was shy when he had met her and he hadn’t seen her with any friends, so he had introduced himself to her as well, and they had started up a friendship.
It only lasted a few days.
She figured that the stigma around his lineage would harm her reputation, so she simply cut ties with him. She wasn’t cruel about it, but it still hurt.
That was the last time he tried making friends with anyone there, leading to a lonely six months before training ended and he officially became a Squire.
“Well, look who survived the invasion.” Cenric said. “Didn’t think you’d make it really. Thought you would’ve ended up as a snack for some Lusus.”
“Did better than you.” Craeft ground out. “I only got a few scars,” The area on his shoulder and side were still red and raw, but they were healing, “You look like you got shredded up pretty well. Must’ve gotten roughed by some Lusus.”
“Just means I was in the heavier fighting.” Cenric shrugged. “I can’t be a coward like you and go hide somewhere out of the way. Hell, I bet those scars on you were just scratches from some of the rubble you hid in.”
“G-guys, please stop.” Deroma said, her voice strained. Craeft noticed a small rapidly fading scar on her throat. Her voice box must have been damaged, Craeft realized.
Cenric continued on, as if he didn’t even hear her.
“Though, I guess that cowardice seems to be a common thing in your team. I saw your little teammate hopping around on some buildings and taking care of the Skitters.” He let out a scoff. “She was shaking like a leaf. It was pretty pathetic how terrified she was of some minor Lusus, especially those weaklings. By Miion, she was shocked still till Sir Finguine knocked her out of it.” He shook his head. “How sad.”
“Just because they are minor, doesn’t take the danger away from them.” Craeft growled out as he stepped forward, a bit of frost building along his fingertips. “Besides, why should I believe you? You’re probably just saying that to mess with me, just like you always do.”
“I really don’t care whether you believe me or not.” Cenric shrugged. “Why should I care about your opinion at all? Especially when you’re the son of that whore.”
Craeft’s eyes widened in fury. If he was angry before, he was absolutely livid now.
“You know, I got a couple bronze crowns on my crown card. Why don’t I go pay my dear old aunt a visit and see if I can get a little something?” The grin on Cenric’s face made him absolutely furious. “I mean, she was so wretched as to get her engaged fiancé to run away from her, so I figured I might be able to get something special. Heard she remarried though but for someone like her, I doubt that’ll matter much for someone like her. Bunch of used goods that one is.”
“You…” Craeft could barely form words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of hurting his cousin. “Don’t ever talk about my mother like that!” Craeft ran forward and tackled Cenric to the ground, raining blow after blow on his cousin’s face. The boy was shocked as he landed on the ground, before Cenric snarled as he returned every blow he got, rage burning in his eyes.
Fedor stood up to back up his teammate, as did Deroma, but Veliane held out her hands, muttering a few words to create a barrier. The two teams were at a standoff, as Craeft and Cenric fought each other with their fists, flesh crackling against flesh as one tried to force the other into submission.
“What is going on here?!” A loud voice bellowed. All of the squires seemed to freeze up, even the two Proudhills as they looked at the source of the voice. Craeft let out a gasp as he saw who it was. Clad in silver mithril armor, the man was most certainly a knight. Judging by the looks of fear running through Fedor, Deroma, and even Cenric eyes, it could only be one person.
Their leader.
“S-sir Tsarsko,” Craeft was forced off the teen as Cenric stood up at attention, his fist raised over his heart in a salute. “It is good to see you well-“
“Cut the crap.” The grizzled man said, his red eyes sweeping over them, his mouth open in a grimace revealing razor sharp teeth. “I was just getting some of my wounds checked on, and I heard fighting begin. In front of a hospital, in a triage, right after a Lusus invasion, where people are supposed to be healing.” Craeft shrunk under the man’s attention, as did his own squires. Even Veliane, the usually stoic girl, seemed to wilt a bit under his attention.
“And you had the bright idea to fight each other, and embarrass not only me as your teacher,” He glared at Cenric, the blonde wincing. “But the whole knighthood with your actions. Do either of you have any brains in those thick skulls of yours?”
“But he started it sir.” Cenric said, pointing towards Craeft. “He tackled me to the ground and started assaulting me.”
“Oh did he now?”
Craeft now knew what it felt like to be under the man’s full attention, feeling like an ant as the man walked towards him.
Despite only being an inch or two taller than the man, he felt far smaller when he got in his face.
“What is your name squire?” Knight Tsarsko asked, or rather, demanded.
“Squire Craeft Proudhill.” Craeft replied, raising his fist over his heart in a salute.
“Well, Squire Proudhill, you better be thankful that you aren’t under my command or I’d train you till you vomited for that little bout of insubordination.” The knight yelled in his face. “I know you, you’re one of Sir Finguine’s little brats, aren’t you? Well, he’s a great friend of mine and I highly doubt that he taught you to assault your fellow squires, did he?”
“N-no sir.” Craeft replied, trying to hold back a stutter.
“Then why did you do it?” Craeft made to open his mouth, but the man interrupted him before he could speak. “You know, what I don’t care why you did it, if you ever lay a finger on any of my student’s again I’ll-“
“You’ll what Tsarsko?” The familiar voice of Sir Finguine rang out, and Craeft held back a sigh of relief at the presence of the man. He looked fine, like he didn’t even suffer a single scratch during the whole invasion. “What is it my squire did that required the attention of another knight?” There was a frown on his face, his eyes looking straight into Sir Tsarsko’s.
“Your squire decided to attack my squire, right in front of the hospital where they should be resting and healing up.” Sir Tsarsko said, clearly not liking being interrupted in his rant.
“Did he?” Sir Finguine asked. “And just why did he do that? I mean, he seems like a calm boy, and I doubt he’d just try and attack a squire without a reason.” His eyes glanced toward Cenric with a knowing expression on his face.
“It doesn’t matter the reason!” Sir Tsarsko growled out. “He committed insubordin-“
“Tsarsko, I’m tired.” Sir Finguine said, his voice weary and any hint of that playful tone disappearing in an instant. “The invasion was completely culled over an hour ago, and those potions have not been doing me any favors. He is my squire, let me handle this.”
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