The day had been uneventful.
The Griffon's Grace and Henry Savoy saw no action. The only thing of interest was lunch. Boiled rock salamander rib. It tasted much like chicken and fish broth, but much gamey in taste and tougher in texture. It was an interesting experience, but Henry Savoy would've killed for a culinary experience beyond mixing beverages.
At nightfall, they camped away from the road again. Now, Henry Savoy was waiting for the fileted boar to roast. They were drinking wine made from the juice that they got from the good villagers of Arcton. It wasn't high quality, but it'll do, and for the taste of those who haven't really accustomed themselves to alcohol, it was exquisitely the same as the one from Oberden.
Much of their discussions were driven by it, and the air around the camp was carefree and complete for this time Kagezo did not scout until midnight. Fortiana forced him to stay, if he didn't, in her words: "I'll tie you to a tree."
Henry Savoy told Kagezo his secrets just as much the Griffon's Grace knew, and he also told him, when the question arose, why he wasn't fazed by death. It had placed the camp in minutes of silence, but he'd break it when it had become too unbearable.
Kagezo drank and took his time taking the swig. Then he leaned into Henry Savoy, shoulder to shoulder. "Henry, I'll come clear. I saw you in the Arena of Tyvin. You fought the Angelius Mastronum and won," he said. His voice was monotone and his face was expressionless but he was clearly drunk. It was an odd sight.
"Angelius Mastronum?" Henry Savoy said, halting his hand from reaching up so that the tankard won't touch his lips. "You mean Keirin?"
Fortiana became silent and so did Phenix, then they both shouted in unison in shock.
"What do you mean Keirin?" said Ammonete, drinking from her cup thereafter but not leaving her gaze stuck to Henry Savoy like pounded rice. "You speak as if you are her friend." Then her face fell pale mid-drink seeing Henry Savoy smirking. "You jest, right?"
Henry Savoy snickered, taking a swig of the brandy before speaking. Then he remembered that Lady Keirin was not merely his friend. They were something more. Indeed, he had forgotten, in such a short time, how he had left a lover alone and without warmth after a night blazed with fire, they burned themselves together. The words laced with the thoughts of whether she will come with him.
If not, then that wasn't really love and he was right.
Which hurts more than being wrong.
At least, when you are wrong, you've illuded yourself—given yourself a comfort that, even though the idiotic making of yourself, is comfort, nonetheless.
The smile on his face disappeared and his mind was like a dust in a sandstorm; until some sort of assurance come, that giant speck of worry will remain a flying debris.
Henry Savoy sat there silent, a second longer than he should, and let out a forced chuckle that he forgot to heave out. The wild wind of weariness had shambled his mind as to what he really is to Lady Keirin. He was barely a friend nor was he really a lover in a sense. The only thing he could think of is an acquaintance that got awfully close to someone and left before they truly could know each other.
There's a reason why a one-night-stand is different from every-night-fucking.
"Lady Keirin, I knew her—defeated her in the Arena of Tyvin, yes," he said, his smile barely holding but enough to stick as natural.
Even so, that smile, how it quakes on the corners like it bears the weight of everyone's world, is genuine.
"I will be honest, knowing you, I'm not in shock," said Kagezo, unmasked and extremely smashed. "When you told me that you are an Otherworlder, it all fell into pieces, but I had an idea that you are not like us."
That seems to be the case wherever he goes. He never quite finds a place where he belongs; of course, much of to blame for that is himself, and he knows that. He was never the one to cry and wallow in sadness because of his alienation since he had long realized that it is himself that is putting himself into such predicaments.
No one to blame but himself.
This time he thought of taking the whole thing as a compliment, rather than comeback and snap at Kagezo. Henry Savoy knew he meant well.
"I'll be careful not to slip next time," said Henry Savoy. He snickered and nudged Kagezo's shoulder, just as someone would to a friend, although he was aware that their bond isn't that well.
They just had a trusty disposition.
The camp let out a single chuckle at Henry, not out of pity as it normally would when someone breathed out one like a cough that caught in your throat. The night went on with that calm and carefree energy, each one of them drinking themselves to sleep. Henry Savoy liked that, and he was sure to keep let the cool air and the tankard of brandy that he held drown the thoughts that bothers.
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And after much time of mild revelry, all but one stood awake.
And, of course, it is Henry Savoy.
Phenix and Kagezo had slept together, Phenix leaned to Kagezo, using him like a portable pillow. Honestly, they looked adorable together. It's like seeing an alligator and a snake at peace with each other.
Fortiana was laid on the ground near the fire, just enough for the warmth to reach her sunned skin. Out of them all, she snored the loudest.
As for Ammonete, well, one would've guessed that she was sleeping like a log while holding a book. She read before slumbering, after all.
But that was not the case.
She had an odd way of sleeping. She sat there on the log, back straight, eyes both tightly shut, arms crossed. She made neither sound nor moved an inch. It was impressive, in a way, how she could have such great control of themselves that even in sleep she found a way to be composed.
Mind over matter, Henry already heard her say that.
The night had been peaceful, you could hear everything in detail. The carefree whistles of air coming through the leaves and trees, the nearby crickets and cicadas scratching themselves, the slight crack of branches.
The slight crack of branches?
It must've been an animal, Henry thought, looking over where the sound came from.
Though, wary as he is, he kept his eyes there.
He was sure of himself, but the thing is, he never really trusted anyone because he couldn't trust himself seriously.
A cynic is only a cynic because he's his own worst critic, Henry mused, tightening his knuckle as he kept watch.
He'd heard Fortiana's snore hitch and soften, like she sensed the subtle shift in the air too, though she was still lost in her dreams.
There it was again: another crack, sharper this time, followed by a faint rustle as something moved just beyond the firelight's reach. Henry narrowed his eyes as tried to peer through the shadows that the campfire did not reach. The blue moon, half-hidden behind a veil of clouds, did little to help his efforts, casting only faint glimmers across the forest floor.
The shade became clearer and clearer, it was unmistakable a person. It was a familiar silhouette. Something that he knows well enough to recognize.
"Who's there?" Henry Savoy called. "Don't come nearer, we are armed."
Then the silhouette turned into an armored woman, holding her sword to the side.
Henry Savoy's eyes widened; the surprise of her presence sobered him instantly.
The woman got closer, her expression both angry and sad, but Henry knew that underneath that mien of red and blue, there was something yellow and bright.
"You're a bastard of the highest order, Henry Savoy," said Lady Keirin.