Caracara's Hunt 57 One Of The Three Saints

Val followed Corwal while Betty rode behind Rain. The two acted like subordinates even though only one of them could claim that role. Strangely though, Val didn't complain about his position. He sat straight on his horse and watched the pa.s.sing countryside without sharing his thoughts about it.

Right after them was Arawn with his cart. He half-lay half-sat against the side, nursing his bruised body. It ached abominably, and every b.u.mp in the road made him even more aware of his pitiful state. The couple blankets he had taken from the inn were of little comfort.

Every time he s.h.i.+fted position, Mutallu would level an icy stare at him. The youth hadn't spoken since his arrival, but his frosty demeanor a.s.sured Arawn that it was by choice. Even the most sociable of souls would think twice about approaching him.

Arawn turned away from him and rummaged through his backpack. The day before, Corwal had bought him a book, and he brought it out. It was a hand-sized thing with a worn leather cover. Some symbol had once been etched into it, but Arawn could no longer make it out.

He opened the book and began puzzling out the words inside. Throughout his studies, he had grown familiar with Corwal's handwriting, which didn't help much when trying to read the small book. The scribe's letters were stylized and tall yet as thin as reeds. They were packed like fish in a barrel, making it hard to tell where one ended and another began.

With nothing but time on his hands, Arawn worked on the first story one word at a time. The b.u.mpy cart made him lose his place on the page more than once, but he could do nothing besides finding it again and starting over.

Around midday, they stopped to have lunch. Arawn tried to jump out of the cart and almost fell over; his legs were numb from sitting for so long. It was lucky Val stood nearby and caught him.

"Be careful," he warned and went to help with the fire.

There was a stream nearby, and Arawn jogged with Corwal to see how he was going to catch their lunch. It was a simple thing, however. They stood still for a few minutes, watching the clear stream that was only a couple meters wide.

When a larger group of fish rose to bask in the sunlight warmed water, Corwal called to the ether and sent it into the stream. It encapsulated a number of fish and raised them in pockets of water. They came down to the ground one by one, and Corwal killed the fish with practiced ease.

He then took out a small knife and began cleaning them. In no time, he was done and brought his catch back to the group. A small fire was already burning in the middle of the clearing, and Mutallu came over with wooden sticks. He picked the fish and rubbed some spices into them before skewering them and walking over to the fire.

It almost went out at his approach, and Arawn saw ether within it. There was no stack of kindling to keep it burning. Instead, ether supplied it with the energy to keep going.

Mutallu chose the strength of the fire that he wanted and pushed the skewers into the ground. Soon, the fish began to steam, and a mouth-watering smell spread through the air. Although n.o.body was starving, their eyes repeatedly returned to the fish.

"You've traveled together before," Rain said after watching Mutallu for some time.

"He's from Scarlet Treason, so of course we've traveled before," Corwal answered while sitting down on the ground. He picked his waterskin and took a large gulp.

Rain gave him a dark look. "You know that's not what I meant. You've traveled with just the two of you. Neither of you is speaking, but I can see you communicating like an old couple with glances over a long table."

Arawn's gaze wandered over to the teenager hiding his face under the straw hat and instantly knew that he was another of Corwal's orphans. It was surprising though. How in the world had the youth managed to get so high up if he was a n.o.body before?

Discontent wormed its way into Arawn's heart. He doubted he could become this special one day, and Mutallu was even younger than him.

The fish was soon ready, and upon eating them they returned to their horses to continue on their way. Full bellies lifted everyone's mood, and their expressions became a lot more sunny. The four people at the front chatted about some inconsequential things to make the time pa.s.s faster.

Only Mutallu did not join, keeping to his position in the back. Arawn could have come to the front of the cart, but he didn't want to spook his old horse, and it wasn't like he could join the conversation anyway. The others were talking about the latest rumors and how the two countries may be affected if they showed up to be true.

Instead, Arawn focused on his book, and the first story. It detailed the life of Saint Theus, one of the three pillars of Ayersbert's religion. He was born in an unnamed village in a fisherman's family. His parents were hardworking people and taught him the values he would follow for the rest of his life.

However, they lived under a warlord who cared not for his subjects. In his teens, the young Theus had to see his sister dragged away to server the tyrant. The whole family was lost and cried for days, mourning the loss of their dear child, but the tragedy didn't end there. Soon after, more and more girls were taken from their families.

People began to hide their unwed daughters, not allowing them to go outside where they could be seen by the tyrant's soldiers. Instead of stopping the warlord, however, this action infuriated him more. In a fit of rage, he rode into the village and marched everyone out of their houses.

His soldiers then entered every building, breaking furniture and stealing everything that was of any value. They also dragged outside the couple girls remaining in the village. Their parents cried for mercy, begging the warlord to let them go, but cruelty ran in that man's veins instead of blood.

He publicly whipped the men of the families who had hidden their daughters. When the square was washed in blood, he looked over the women huddling in the corner. His lecherous eyes examined each one, and he ordered his soldiers to bring over some of them, despite their status as married.

When he left, the village was devastated. Some men who had tried to stop the soldiers lay in pools of their own blood. All the young girls had been taken, leaving their mothers hysterical.

At such a time, Saint Theus found that he could no longer remain as a simple fisherman's son. He took the lead and had everyone clean the streets. Together, they brought away the corpses and dug the graves.

A week later, he was chosen as the new village head, despite his young age, and all the dogs howled in unison. The villagers hadn't known what it meant at that time, but it was actually the animals celebrating Saint Theus' first step into sainthood.

His actions didn't escape the warlord's notice, and an army was sent to raze the village. The tyrant was suddenly scared that the young talented man might start an insurrection.

Saint Theus was not afraid, however. Justice was on their side, and so he told it to his people. He brought them to the road and waited there for the army without any armor or weapons. The villagers were terrified, but they trusted him with their lives.

When the army arrived, a huge storm rose and lightning struck. It burned the standard bearer and gouged a pit in the ground. Right after, more lightning bolts came down, and all of them struck the army. Soldiers screamed along with their horses and left their positions.

Only Saint Theus stood on the road with his trusted, unharmed. The next day, the king's army arrived, since he had gotten tired of the tyrant's wrongdoings. Once the general learned what had happened, he was surprised and brought Saint Theus to the capital.

From then on, his real journey began. He brought justice where it was forgotten and freed people that could not free themselves. His demeanor was harsh and his words cold, but his fairness was unquestionable.

With all four elements at his command, there was no one in the world who could stand up to him. The king thus created a t.i.tle just for him, Archmage, but Saint Theus was not tempted by the newly gained fame and authority. He helped the king improve the country while often going out to make sure the world he wanted to create was really out there and not just a fantasy people behind the castle's spoke about.

It was evening when Arawn finished the first story, and he placed the book by his side. The red hues of the setting sun were stunning, but his mind was on the tale he had just read. It was something that may or may not have happened thousands of years ago, but he could see the influence of the story up to the present day.

The t.i.tle of the strongest mage was still Archmage, and Saint Theus' name could often be heard among the people. Even after so much time had pa.s.sed, he wasn't forgotten. It was hard to imagine how unbelievable his feats had to have been for him to remain relevant for so long.

Corwal didn't let them stop until the sun had fully set and the horses were moving based on instinct rather than sight. Once they set up camp, they caught fish again, and everyone soon prepared to go to sleep. All they wanted at that moment was to extend their legs and rest after the long ride.

"Arawn, Mutallu, come with me. Practice time."

"You can't be serious…" Arawn whispered, finding it hard to even speak through his disbelief.

He was sleepy and exhausted. Why had they ridden for so long if they still planned to practice? It was close to midnight already!

Mutallu stood up without a word and went to Corwal's side. His expression had managed to grow even colder, but he didn't voice any complaint.

Arawn glared at him for that. Couldn't this be constructed as treason? The teenager was betraying his own beliefs.

With a sigh, Arawn stood up and followed Corwal where they wouldn't bother others. However, everyone stood up to follow them. They seemed quite interested to see what this practice entailed.

Noticing that, Corwal stopped and just told Arawn and Mutallu to step away from one another. When they were thirty strides away, he told them to stop and placed a burning stick he'd brought from the fire.

"Now begin. Arawn, use your full power. I'll make sure you don't injure Mutallu." At this, the youth with the straw hat scoffed and took a fighting position. "Mutallu, if you stab him to death, we'll have a problem. Killing is not allowed."

"Fine. What about slicing him up a little then?" he asked, speaking up for the first time after joining them.

After hearing what he asked for, however, Arawn decided that he preferred the teenager silent. He was a lot more likeable then.

"Feel free, but know that his ether is not just for show. It's one thing to see and another to have to deal with it."

The expression on Mutallu's face didn't change. He raised his hand, and something flashed in front of Arawn's eyes. He blinked, trying to regain his vision while knowing he'd already made a mistake.

Their fight had started, and he just lost the first exchange.