The hammering sounds of hooves startled him awake. It was faint and distant. Before Bone-Sack even heard them, he sensed them. Two low rumbles, different in tone and intentions, perfectly lined up. One chasing. The other being chased. Coming from the camp. Near. The movement of a pursuit, the fleeing shadow of a prey, lurking in the forest edge. And the silhouettes of the herd he knew so well, following it, but with a strong delay. They were coming his way. He could almost see them, as he heard them clear as day. Schimmel had witnessed this kind of situation before. He knew damn well that it was probably the new guy, playing a game of hide and seek with the Handlers. He will not be the first one less than enthusiastic with the idea of dying at war, trying his luck at fleeing.
But that wasn't enough for him to stay awake. No, what kept his head high and eyes open, was a smell. A strange and powerful smell, he only ever sniffed on the soldiers of the South. Coming from deep in the forest, like a tentative trail. Inviting him to follow. Making him burn with curiosity and worry.
Schimmel looked at the sky starting to beam a blurry white light. Nimbus of dark clouds were still crawling on the grayish map of the heavens, appearing viciously big, but at least the rain had stopped. For now. Without moving much, trying to keep Bone-Sack peacefully asleep, the white beast sniffed the air, his heart pumping wildly. Forest dew, earthly fragrances, pollen, the tingly scent of Bone-Sack (similar to citrus), himself… And, this southerly, distinct odor of an animal… A strange animal… Similar… To him ?
Schimmel rubbed his eyes while getting slowly up. His thick bed of grass now crunched and flattened to death, left a green mark on his belly. Bone-Sack mumbled something about pickles in his sleep, before extending his legs where Schimmel was a moment ago and falling back to napping. The vegetation was wild and rich in this part of the forest. Insects were chanting and already active, crickets jumping from leaf to leaf, frogs croaking near the pounds made by the flood. It was still the forest edge. Quiet, peaceful. It really was a good spot. Lucky them, thought Schimmel, that they didn't search for another one. Going deeper in the woods, wandering too far in the middle of the night… They probably would have met their death. Monsters of all of sorts as well as carnivorous plants, could be ferocious if disturbed in their den. And the sheltering copses emerging all around them were quickly expanding into a real jungle a few hundred meters far from their actual position...
So, Schimmel could only ask himself : How could the smell of something that clearly was made of blood and bones, could be carried by the breeze from this deep in the forest ? He was all but focused on his nose, sniffing the mixture of scent with interest. The wind was with him. The smell got stronger, even with the source being at an unknown distance.
Quality leather… Fur… Skin ? Human skin ? Sweat… Blood… Lots of. Human ? Not only... Oh ! This spicy aroma reminded him of his own harness… Solid work. Maybe… a Centaur ? No, it wasn't… It was too animalistic… So… A horse ? The strong fragrance of a horse, but… On a human ?
Bewildered, Schimmel rubbed his chin. A horse ? A real one ? Not a centaur ? Only the south soldiers uses them. So, it was a foe ? What was he doing so far away from the battlefield ? They especially made a great detour, just to avoid this kind of scenario where a scout could find them !
Was he alone ? Lost ? A single soldier was no problem for their garrison, but a simple conscript would have never survived the travel to the city ruins. Not alone. So, was it a practitioner, a cultivator or a mage ? Damn. It didn't matter ! Any of these guys could wipe them all out in one breath !
Schimmel's eyes widened, his fangs pointing at his lips. He bared them eagerly. A drop of saliva fell on his jaw as his senses tingled his brain-out. Sensible to any stimulus, he crooked his neck in the direction of his running herd. Handlers were coming. Following a fugitive. Among them, the distinctive and familiar fragrance of his master. Ink and faded mint.
If they dared go in the deeps, the group could possibly cross paths with the lone traveler. Or not. But if they did meet, how was it going to end ? Will blood sink ? Master Yuan wasn't a good fighter. She was a strategist. An intendant. A courier ! If the stranger was indeed a foe… If he was an arcanist…
Schimmel grew pale as the horrors he saw on bloodied fields came back to him. Smeared with red flowers, practitioners were carrying their weapons with pride as to show everyone the blood flowing from their palms. Figures standing on piles of corpses and not hesitating a second in front of pleading eyes and crying voices. Tireless men's, or what looks like them, as he saw them in his most recurring nightmares. Choking with powers, their morals conjecture thrown into the trash. Stupidly, absurdly mad ! Screaming : For the Glory of Magmeld ! Or any other house's names. The only consolation was that, abusing their abilities this way would make them unable to use it later in their life. They will be magically impaired, forever. But still...
In an intense flash of fear, he saw his master, silently widening her eyes in terror. And the sword of a cultivator plunging into her heart with no mercy, breaking her soul in millions of pieces.
Schimmel eyes lit. He had to do something. He had to catch that fugitive before they ended up alerting the lone rider !
They were coming.
A figure passed before him and he jumped out of the tree's protection, ending up just behind the escape artist. It was a small centaur, more a half-pony than a horse. His coat was bright red, as were his hairs and eyes. Surprised by Schimmel's arrival, he turned around to watch as the white-beast tried to catch one of his hind legs. Schimmel was welcomed with a kick that almost exploded his nose and he had to back out. The crimson hurdler, in a surge, ran faster forward in a bid to escape him. Schimmel tried to warn him, but to no avail.
"Stop ! If you go deeper in the woods, who knows what you could find ! It's probably haunted, or worse !"
"Scram !" was his only answer. Without delay, Schimmel shook his head and started running. What did the herd do to put this poor soul in such a haste to depart ?
The two centaurs engaged in a brutal race, rearing and sliding on the humid earth. Schimmel's nails were scratching the fur of his prey, without truly hooking on it. Just missing a real grip by a centimeter. The branches of the dark woods, sunken in a heavy fog, were hitting them and drawing red scars on their skins. Schimmel already couldn't tell from where he was coming. All the trees looked the same. Sometimes, something soft caressed his legs and made him jump forwards in fear. A weird silence had shushed the insects and amphibian songs, lazy vines were unrolling in front of them, sticky with something similar as drool. Schimmel avoided them with disgust. Flesh-eating plants ! At least, passive. Easily avoidable. For now. But later on ? They were visibly entering the very guts of a colossal herbal monster. If these vines were his baits and tongues, they were in its mouth ?
So, beyond that, were they gonna end up in its stomach ?
"Please, stop this foolishness ! Don't you see this place is dangerous ? Let's go back !" he screamed.
And something even more dangerous than monsters and plants, is sneaking around, he thought for himself. If our loner is able to walk freely among these things, he's even more of a threat than I imagined ! The handlers will not see them coming ! I have to catch this runaway and go back ! Quickly ! Before the forest digests us... Or worse.
"Please, listen to me ! You can't escape anyway ! We're surrounded with battlefields !"
But the fugitive didn't seem to care. Schimmel's eyes lingered on his prey's legs. If only he could… Catch them ! But the difference in height is not always an advantage. If he was to bend over, a simple kick at this speed would make him swallow back his birth certificate, no doubt. And his body will be slowly eaten by the wild carnivorous plants inhabiting this zone. Not even leaving the bones.
The small Centaur suddenly pounded, almost crouching on himself, turning his face towards a massive hedge of brumbles full of blackberries, metallic flowers and flesh buds.
Wait, what ?
Schimmel almost stopped right there, right now. Flesh ! This bush was full of undigested… Food ! And this thing was large ! A wall ! Even he, who wasn't short in height, couldn't jump it ! He would forcibly end up falling stomach first on the patch of thorns. His legs could get hurt so easily in the process, breaking on the impact or tangling in the springs. It was… Suicidal...
Dashing in a whine, puffing lines of vapor in the air, Schimmel understood that he only had time for one move before the small runaway jumped to his death. The white-beast felt his heart freeze in his chest. His whole body suddenly grew limp.
He still could flee. He still could. If he fled now, whatever happened next wouldn't at least happen to him… He just had to… Abandon him ! He could survive without him ! This guy wasn't needed !
The vision of the grave he just dug came back to him in a flash.
You will abandon them, the ghost said.
You will.
"Stop this instant, you idiot ! Look up front ! You are going to die !" Schimmel screamed in alarm.
But without stopping his momentum.
He jumped.
Not above the hurdle. Through it. Colliding with the red Centaur, pushing him violently out of the way and stopping his jump successfully. The chased beast swore as he lost his balance, skidding on the rocky ground, legs in the air, while Schimmel, unable to stop his impulse, fell in the spikes. Scratching his body whole. His eyes watered in pain as the vegetative monster, awoke by his presence, started moving and shaking. Seeding his thorns below Schimmel skin while large roots rose slowly, catching his hooves and binding his legs together to stop him from escaping.
Schimmel screamed in pain and terror. The red Centaur was getting slowly up. Lifting his head, he gave him a frightened look, stiff as Schimmel was swallowed by the predatory plant. The white-beast gave him a pleading glare. His eyes were full of despair.
"Go back !" he screamed, voice hoarse. "Go back !"
The red Centaur shuddered. Realizing where he was and what was happening, he recoiled, opening and closing his mouth. Hesitating to say something. A long vine started approaching him from behind, multiple bushes were moving all around, alerted by their presence. Schimmel roared.
"Go the fuck back ! Or they will catch you too !"
Ultimately, after lots of fumbling on his own legs, the red-one ran back towards the forest edge.
Schimmel guts sank in his body. Stopping himself from crying out loud, he clenched his fists around the vines on his chest and ripped them apart with great effort. He had to live ! He had to live ! He still hadn't told master Yuan about the stranger and… And…
Tears fell from his eyes.
What in the world was he thinking ? Why did he save this idiot ? Now, he was going to be eaten ! He will never see his father again, he will never go back to his hometown, he will never… He will never… Live again… Or help anyone again...
"Cut from the path of reincarnation..." The strange voice made his ears ring.
He roared in fury. Using his free hands, Schimmel dug in the ground, slowly pulling his upper body out of the bushes. It took a while. Minutes ? How many ? He didn't know. Sweating floods, swallowing hard, spitting blood, his vision blurred. But he finally was far enough to catch anchor out of the flesh-eating brambles. His muscles were open to any winds, his onyx skin bleeding hard. Stretching his hand he tried to seize a thing, anything to stop him from getting pulled back.
Please ! Anything solid enough ! Anything ! But his hand fell into the void. Once. Twice. Only sod below it. His tears were blinding him. Blood was piling in his throat, as his horse's parts were torn to shreds. How long will the monster take to reach his internal organs ? How long at this rate ? Hours of agony unveiled in front of him. Hours. And hours.
His hand hit the ground weakly. He mumbled.
"Someone… Anyone… Please…"
He raised his hand once more.
When it fell, his palm was gently grabbed by another. Big. Calloused. Warm. Oh, so very warm...
Schimmel sobbed as he perceived the sound of a drawing sword. Metal against sheath.
Ah. True. The only other person in these woods was… The stranger.
Schimmel twisted his back, turning his gaze up. But his eyes rested on the canopy, unable to get a glimpse of the wanderer's face. Just his unclear silhouette, looking down on him. He laid there for a while, chewing on his thoughts, eyes in eyes with the dark shadow topping him. He was out of breath, gasping and sighing, his pumping heart beating fast. He gave the stranger a sly leer and winced in misery. A vine just scorched his stomach, digging in an open wound. He sniffled. Another just planted a line of thorns in his flesh, making him almost howl in pain. The plant was digging a myriad of slashes in his pelt. Skinning him alive.
He laughed dryly and his hand tightened around the stranger's palm. Biting his nails into his flesh, Schimmel refused to beg.
"So… Not gonna do anything, huh ?"
A silence floated as Schimmel breath steadied strangely. His eyes moved and grew, noticing the glimpse of the sword in the stranger's hand. Ah, what he could do if this sword was his at the moment ! His voice was gravelly, talking was a pain. Still, he did. Imbue by a strange sensation inside his chest. Not quite hope. Not quite a renouncement either.
"Gonna let me die ? A fierce warrior like you, able to come all the way here… Letting me die in front of you. Not moving an inch. Just, staying there."
Schimmel considered the hand he was squeezing ferociously. And, after a moment, let it go. Opening his arms wide, like he did when he was only a foal playing in the snow. Back in Coban. He could almost see the white rain. He could almost feel the cold… Oh, so cold...
A piano was playing… Inside the decrepit coal mine… An old woman was sitting in front of it. Her grey hairs were all crimp and worn. But long… Oh, so long. It was pretty. A cascade of silver on her clothes. All the guys in the town wanted to dance with her. On her, she always wore the best ornaments. Crowns of gold, earrings of the finest emeralds, necklaces of intertwined diamonds, bracelets of jade... When she was spinning around, the jewels were all rattling harmoniously. And her silver mane was like stardust. She was the main reason why Schimmel let his hair grew so much, until thy reach the end of his back. Because he wanted to dance, too. He wanted to be beautiful too. But no one ever asked him to dance to the piano. Because his skin was black as charcoal, his hair was white as snow, his eyes were blue as the horizon. Because his ears were those of an animal, as well as more than half of himself. Because he looked human. But he wasn't.
"You're a horse. You can't be with them. Do you blame me ?", said a voice in his head.
Schimmel eyes cycle the air. Finding the Stranger shadowy figure. He smiled. Not knowing who he was talking to anymore.
"I don't blame you."
The shadow vibrated. Up the sword go. Down the sword go.
The vine ruptured under the steel and after a few hits, the bush let go of Schimmel's body, retiring in the safe darkness of the deeps. The stranger then silently crouches near the torn flesh of the centaur. Schimmel, face down, couldn't lift his neck anymore. He crawled for a while. Then stopped.
A hand fell on his back. First, still as stone. Then, a wave of warm energy was sent to his wounded flesh. A shiver of surprise ran through the centaur. The sensation was piercing. Penetrating. He could feel the waves in his spine. It was like boiling water, running through his body. The hand started moving and Schimmel growled and struggled. Calloused, this hand. No, worst. Scarified. Schimmel could say by the roughness of the skin. His ears twitched on his head as the owner of the healing limb joined his second palm to the act.
So, this indeed was a practitioner… And from the Empire, it seemed. So, someone noble. Someone worthy of respect and obedience. Someone he should have never met.
Stunned by this setback, Schimmel wanted to look up to confirm his doubts. He tried to force on his sore body. But the hands immobilized him and a dark and profound voice ringed in his ears. Low. Heavy as iron. A tone soft, regular, almost plain. Not letting much of his expression transpire. Nor any room to engage in discussion. Still young, though.
"Don't move."
Gently stroking and caressing his fur, running through his coat with versatility, the hands healed him steadily. As one plays an instrument, they brush him all over, leaving burning fingertips on his fur. Shocked mute by relief, Schimmel abandoned resistance and buried his face at ground-level. The touch was reassuring. Comforting. He felt safe under the mending fingers.
Soon, he sharp pain of his injuries vanished. Leaving only fatigue and ease.
He was saved. He sighed.
That was a close call. Too close for his comfort.
Schimmel took a deep, shaky breath before deciding he had abused enough of the stranger's kindness. Pushing the healing hands away gently, he lifted himself up on the elbow, turning his head towards his savior with intent to thank him.
And was sent back to the ground in an instant, a palm hooked on his neck with abominable strength. Schimmel coughed and tried struggling, his legs battling the ground.
"I said don't move."
The voice was now growling. Almost threatening. Sending a shiver down Schimmel's spine. Almost by instinct, he stopped moving, inhaling sharply. That is what his master made him learn diligently. When someone orders you, you obey. If you doubt, still do as they ask. Don't provoke someone who can get you killed on a whim. Stop thinking, act. And if you don't like what is going on…
Suffer silently.
The hand on his neck squeezed… Before letting go.
"Good boy. Stay."
The hands fell back on his fur. Schimmel rolled his eyes towards the stranger, pissed off and surprised at the same time.
What are you doing, sir ? I'm already healed, thanks to you ! Why the fuss ?
He understood when the man started stroking him again with a strange satisfaction. Then, lied down on him, hugging his horse's body firmly. The centaur cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. The hands moved around his belly and the stranger sighed. He was being petted ! Petted ! Like an animal !
He almost choked in outrage.
Never in his life had anyone ever laid hands on him with such intent ! Not even Master Yuan dared touch his back and rump so shamelessly ! Did this human even know he was not a mindless beast, who could be caressed and rubbed aimlessly ? Even more after a near-death experience ! Mortified, red from ears to ears, but still obedient, Schimmel stayed put, counting the minutes. The human seemed eager to nuzzle and stroke him as much as possible and his nails were tracing channels and maps on his body, making him clench his teeth and square his shoulder in discomposure.
What, human ? Couldn't you let me up and about ? Am I so worthy of your interest you suddenly want to use me as a company animal ? Do you miss someone ? Do you think I'm someone else ? Or do you just like my pelt ?
One hand drifted towards his lower back without much thought and Schimmel almost jumped, his whole body shuddering in a violent convulsion.
Outrageous ! Outrageous ! He was not to be fiddled and groped, even by his helper ! Schimmel kicked and tussled in order to escape. But he was kept under control with little force. Schimmel cried inside. Why ? Why in this horrible lying position, could he be pushed back so easily ? In these moments, he hated being half-horse.
Suddenly, he heard a sniffing sound. Something, similar to a cry. And hot drops of liquid falling on him. Schimmel frowned and chewed on his cheek nervously, before lying back obediently. The stranger was reeking of a horse smell. And blood. But no horse was in sight. Was the man missing his animal ? Could be. If he was so sad as to cry on a Centaur, Schimmel couldn't find the strength in him to push the man away. He had to find another solution. Trying to appear sympathetic and not daring to talk, the white beast wailed a long and pitiful whine. It seemed to work, as the men drew back. Schimmel sighed in relief.
Right ! Stay where you are and don't come back, he cried inside.
But the stranger fell on him again, hugging him even tighter, making him swallowed hard in embarrassment. That's it ! There is a limit to everything ! The white beast finally broke-down, bending his back in despair, he screamed :
"Listen, I'm not a horse ! I'm a Centaur ! Can you please, stop touching me the way you do and let me up ? Crawling on the dirty ground is neither pleasant, nor funny !"
"What are you saying ? It's always fun to see you crawl, you animal ! Where the fuck are ya ? I hear you, but I don't see you !"
Schimmel's ears turned around and his face lit up. Bill's voice ! Just behind the monster bush ! Schimmel yelled as he continued to suffer the gentle stroking painfully, the stranger on him seemingly disinterested by his complaining.
"Never in a month was I more happy to hear your grumbling tone and self-sufficient sarcasm, Bill !"
"Cut the crap, moron ! Where are ya ?"
"Behind the thing full of flesh buds ! Careful, it's alive and… Well… Quite hungry if I dare say."
"We know, pea for brains. Your new friend told us."
"New friend ?"
The timid face of the red Centaur appeared first, from behind a tree, carefully avoiding the dangerous flesh-eating plants. He almost froze upon seeing Schimmel, all engulfed in a human grasp. Before hiding himself quickly behind his hands. Schimmel raised a brow, uncertain of this reaction. But the white centaur was happy to find out he was not left for dead. His prey had called for help quite efficiently. Schimmel was satisfied. Soon, a march of familiar faces proceeded to avoid the carnivorous vegetal and joined them. Bill, rode by Master Yuan and followed by Bone-Sack, walked on the scene, their eyes growing big as they spotted Schimmel being used as a therapy horse.
Bill paused right away. Then, bowed. He wasn't alone. One by one, all of the Centaur's and Handler's present, bowed deeply in front of the Stranger. Putting their knees down. Schimmel felt desperate.
Why are you all so respectful ? This guy here hasn't stopped crying on me for a solid ten minutes ! I'm used as a shameful plush for a noble and you bow ? That's it ? Who is this guy for you all to stop moving and staying so still ? I still haven't seen his face, since he's buried in my fur ! I want to be freed already…
It took him a while to realize that, more than bowing, the Handlers were also trembling. Shaking. Quite strongly, even.
Schimmel's ears fell backward as he realized the situation was maybe more serious than he thought. But only for a second. The voice of the stranger patting him rose. Slowly, the man detached himself from him. Schimmel was dying to look at him, but was cruelly pinched in the grass by his neck. Unable to move, once more, he stayed still. Patient. Only listening to the plain way of speaking of the man hurting him from one hand, cuddling him from the other. Just hearing him, no one could have told he had cried… Quite impressive.
"Handlers and Centaur's… From which division ? You, Andalusian. Tell me, since your masters can't."
Every time he talked, the man took his time. Articulating calmly, modulating lazily. Like, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing, really...
"Weaponry and infantry, your highness."
Highness ? Schimmel moved and the grips on his throat got stronger, making his breathing difficult. Highness ? No… Impossible ! The white-beast grew pale. His blood turned sour in his veins. He felt a horrible acid running in his heart, piercing holes of fright in it.
"...Highness ?" he murmured.
Only one Highness was indeed implicated in this war. One suffering from a terrible reputation.
"Scorpion ?" continued the stranger as Schimmel started panting.
"Catapult, your… Your… You're highness."
"Hum…"
The hand playing on the back of Schimmel stopped. Bill flinched. But in contrast to Schimmel, he seemed ecstatic.
"Where are we exactly and how far is the Valley of the Resting Souls ?" asked the stranger.
Bill answered with a tremor in his voice.
"In the Ewelim forest, near the city ruins of Repera. Two weeks' distance between the border of the Koram mountain."
"Two weeks… I see… It's far... Too far from... Hin."
Finally, after a bit of reflection, the hands on Schimmel vanished. Almost with regret. The white-beast didn't wait for an order. Acting against every protocol, he jumped on his feets, galloping away. Seeing his panicked state, Master Yuan frowned before jumping straight on the ground, hurrying up to calm him. But to no avail. Schimmel turned around, his stomach in his throat, rearing vividly. Looking down on the still crouching man who saved his life just a while back, he thought he was going to go crazy from fear.
Blood and iron.
Blood. And iron.
Blood. All over his face. All over his hands. All over his soul.
And now, all over his white ghostly fur. A gift, from the dead and their murderer.
The white centaur gulped. The noble man was looking at him. His eyes were since long extinguished and dull. He appeared young, not much more than Schimmel. Maybe in his twenties. A horrible gash crossed his left eyelid and cheek, biting irregular lesions in his tanned flesh. Black dust was all over him like a coat of smoke, bones powder and human ashes on his clothes. Black and red, as the Empire asked. But without sleeves. And woven with the finest silver threads Schimmel ever saw. The strands were of good quality, sparkling shyly in the fog, drawing patterns of a snake and a heron, the emblems of the Tairngir Empire. A shoulder guard was in place at his right side. But his left one was nowhere to be seen. The piece of tissue was falling over a black pair of trousers, with metallic protection over the knees. Dribbles and bloody stains covered the pants. And the bottom of his boots were covered in red mud. Under the coat, a simple black tunic was wet with suspicious wide stains. Probably blood as well.
Blood and earth. Blood and iron. Blood. Blood. Blood. Even in his short and fuzzy black hair. Dripping dark and smooth. Dripping a crown of crimson rubies.
Traces of a carnage.
Traces of an explosion.
Traces of death.
The man nodded at Schimmel and the centaur almost puked.
"... Take care." said His Highness.
And he retired. Just like that. In a few swift movements, he got up once more. Passing the wild and nervous centaur by with no urge. Almost brushing against him. Schimmel kept his head high. Looking right through him. Dying inside.
Death was walking by. Death was walking by !
How could he not smell it sooner ? How come he had to see it, to realize it ?
Death stuck to this man like a second skin.
A drop of rain fell from a plant. Whispering.
"He killed and killed and killed... But... Soon… He will die soon."
No one moved until the noble man was out of sight. Then, a commune sigh of relief was heard. Slowly, but surely, the group of handlers and their beasts returned to their normal way of living. The rebellious fugitive was taken away, Bill started to mumble incomprehensible swears, Master Yuan kept checking on Schimmel… But the white-one was fine. Covered in cardinal stains. Fingertips all over him, hands marks, long lines of hemoglobin covering him... But fine.
"So, Big boy. You're gonna tell us what happened ?"
Schimmel turned a blinded gaze towards Bone-Sack. Then, swallowed hard. He wanted to puke. He wanted to puke ! He wanted to puke, so much !
"What happened ? What happened ? What happened, indeed..." he repeated, still shocked. Bone-Sack tried to put his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture, but Schimmel shivered and slapped it away. The Akhal-Teke frowned.
"You don't seem to do well…"
"Me ? What ? No ! I'm fine. Fine ! I'm perfectly fine ! I just met the Prince of Tairngir and he saved my life. How can't I do fine ?" his voice was rising high and master Yuan whistled gently to appease him. Schimmel was stamping at the ground, hands on his face.
"I'm fine ! I'm fine ! I'm fine ! I'm just… Fine !"
Bone-Sack didn't have time to answer, the big and sharp laugh of Bill cut him. The Andalusian approached, excited as can be. Jealous as can be. Beaming green from envy.
"Ay ! How can you not be fine, you animal...You were pampered by the Supreme General himself !"
"The supreme general, the supreme general… " gasped Schimmel, stiff and rigid as a trunk. "What was he doing here ? What… Why… Why ?"
Bone-Sack shook his head and shrugged, visibly queasy. He was not the only one. Wherever Schimmel looked, people turned their gaze away. Like he was infected. Bone-Sack coughed.
"Whatever, right ? You can leave it at that. You were looked over by someone of higher power. Isn't that nice ? Come on, I'm sure you could… Let me help you clean yourself with some leaves.... And there must be a stream nearby the camp. To wash yourself more."
"Leave it at that ?" roared Bill, outraged, blocking Bone-Sack's way and pointing at Schimmel. "Did you see who that was ? Did you see his eyes ? This… Animal, was touched by the Emperor's brother himself ! The best warrior of our Empire ! He was healed by him, touched by him, his magic ran through him ! The most noble and high prestige, he got it by luck ! And he still was of debilitating insolence ! Ungrateful ! He could have got us all killed, for his dreadful manners ! Or handlers could have all been beheaded in a motion and us with them ! Because of him !"
"Now now, Bill. Aren't you exaggerating ?" said Bone-Sack, trying to calm everyone down. "Plus, you are making assumptions. But it's obviously not what has happened, since we still are very much alive. Aren't we ? The prince probably just helped in the goodness of his heart, without waiting for regards. Otherwise, why would he wish Schimmel well ?"
Pale as a sheet, Schimmel pushed Master Yuan away and cracked himself in two, throwing up. Wobbling, waste of yellow liquid on his lips, the white centaur took a few steps before almost falling over. Bone-Sack urged to support him.
In the East Empire army, they were five great Generals. All, close to the Emperor himself. But one of them was suffering from a horrible reputation. Oh, yes. One of cold blooded murders, slaughter and extermination. The Emperor's brother. A cultivating genius of the martial arts and close-range combat. He was the sole survivor of the Emeris battle, one of the most decisive and murderous one that happen in these last three years. The one who gave the Empire its advantage. Cause the Prince had returned with the head of the renown father of the Magmeld family, master Mo. Gifting the smashed skull to his brother as proof of his allegiance and never-ceasing devotion.
The lord, highness and Supreme General, Nuada Liko Samildanach. First born of the Samildanach family and leader of the East Empire army by the Emperor's blessing.
Known for his habits of killing those he did not find to his liking. Known for his abilities. Known as the left hand of the devilish Emperor of the East. Known as worse than death.
Schimmel knew that all these rumors were true. Why ? Because he was there, three years ago, at the Emeris battle. He was there. He was the second survivor. The centaur no one knew of. The guy that shouldn't have been there and so, didn't exist.
Schimmel almost fell over from fright, a hand on his mouth, puke all over his chest.
This man touched him. With his bloody hands.
And it was warm. Warm and gentle.
He vomited once more.
"Schimmel !"
Bone-Sack passed a hand on his human back, trying to stop the convulsing tremors animating him. Bill sat on the ground, still quivering in excitement and laughing nervously.
"You animal… You animal ! Always bringing us trouble… Always… You're gonna get us killed… All of us… All of us… And you think you can get all the praise, huh ? It's always like that… Your luck is insane… You're insane… Insane..."
He kept smiling and giggling and Schimmel felt the weight of a dozen stares falling on his stained white fur.
He clenched his teethes and pressed his arms in a vain effort to stop their quivering.
This was, easily, the worst morning ever.