Chapter 48: Kyrian (Patreon)

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“Guhkk…. Ghhuukk… uuuuooooooggg……”

I leaned over the bulwark of the galleon, emptying the contents of my stomach.  However, the fact was that I had nothing left to empty; I had not had any food except stale bread for the last two nights and even those had been hurtled overboard by my seasickness.  The smell of brine assaulted my senses, mixed with the rancid taste of vomit on the back of my tongue.

True to his word, Yousef took responsibility for the recently freed slaves.  He took us across the desert with his caravan and granted us passage on a boat that he had arranged for ahead of time.  Of course, it wasn’t for free.  Some of us were to fight in the Colosseum, namely me.

Most of our ragtag group were non-combatants: sex-slaves, minor nobles and merchants.  The ones who could fight were wary; they didn’t trust Yousef who was an active buyer in the slave trade.  Most of the free men refused to show their strength or even take off their armor in their presence.  As a result the people who stepped up to protect the caravan from the occasional monster attacks were far and few in between.

Again, namely me.

As a result, Yousef had taken a liking to me.  He offered me free lodging and a stack of gold to get a fresh start in Miltus, one of the Jayu States where the Colosseum was located.  Of course, I accepted.

There were things I needed to do.

After I said my farewell to Clover, I thought long and hard.  Time was something I had plenty of, especially with my seasickness leaving me crippled for the majority of this trip.  Honestly, it kind of hurt, the way it ended.  I never got to say farewell to L’teya and definitely did not part on what I’d call good terms with Clover.  More than once I wished I could go back in time and do it over.

But we had been fated to part ways.  The only thing keeping us together had been our shared goal of survival and eventual escape.  Now that we were all free, L’teya would no doubt go and look for her brother.  Clover would look for her parents and explore her role as a Priestess of Oung.  For me… well, I wasn’t sure.

Before I had been 100% sure of escaping this world.  But the more I saw of this world, the less I became sure of the possibility of finding a way out.  Seeing [Mother Centipede] and the gargantuan Skeletal Vulture had been a humbling experience; I simply couldn’t imagine myself hunting those monsters.  So my goal for now was simple.

Getting stronger.

First, I had to make a party.  An actual party of DPS, Tank, Mage, Support and Healer.  That would be my first goal.

Second, I had to fix my eye.  Being blind in one eye was jarring and if my sparring sessions with Skaris were anything to judge by, it was a problem that needed to be fixed.  Fast.  Luckily, there were a couple of items in MSS that could substitute it, the issue would be getting gold.

Which was the third goal: gold.

Seeing Samak City get destroyed like that, as a conflict between the emprie of Turina, the Great Houses and other powers… there were still so many things out there that could hurt me.  Kill me.

Take people away from me.

Eventually I came to accept the fact that Arione, that backstabbing snake-tongued son of a bitch, could do things for Clover and L’teya that I couldn’t.  He could lead Clover to places that could unlock her powers and help L’teya find her brother.  All my knowledge of the game was useless if I didn’t have the strength to protect myself while traveling the world.

Admitting that to myself didn’t quell the pain in my heart at all however.  It still hurt.  A lot.  Every night I tossed and turned, thinking about Clover and L’teya.  Would we be enemies next time? Strangers? Was the experiences that we shared so short that a lone mage turning us against each other was enough to break those bonds?

I had questions.  And the next time I met them, I wanted to be strong enough to put Arione in his place and talk to my former comrades with privacy.

But for now, I had to focus on the goals right in front of me: surviving this boat ride.

As it was, our group had gotten considerably smaller.  Realistically, it was the orc-refugees and the berserkers, Kellin and the Black Dogs, along with my party: Skaris and Kyrian.  Among them, I was the only one to succumb to seasickness; surviving off of rock hard bread called tack and small sips of water.  Even now, while everyone took shelter in the cabins below from the scorching sun, I was forced by to remain above.

“Get a droplet of that vomit on my ship and I’ll have you lapping it up like a dog.”  A sharp voice cracked like a whip from behind me.

I turned, half kneeling and half hanging on the bulwark by one arm, to face the speaker –Captain Max Leck, Captain Max for short.

She wasn’t dressed like a captain, more like one of her own crewmates.  The top of her head was covered by a black bandana with a skull design, curly black hair running in waves down to her shoulders.  Despite being the captain of a ship, her skin was pale –almost ghostly so– and freckles adorned her face right beneath her yellow-green eyes.  Her pointed ears betrayed her elven heritage.

“Captain.”  I managed to greet.

She gave me a crooked smile, somehow charming and predatory at the same time.  “No sparring with the lizard today?  You cost me good coin the other day.”

Once Skaris and I had started sparring, it was inevitable.  Coins started exchanging hands and the deck became a gambling hall.  If I wasn’t wrong, I saw Yousef actually managing the gambling ring, kind of like a mini-colosseum.  The spars were held with no abilities and no armor; just a spear versus a sword till first blood.  So far, Skaris was beating me 4-2. 

“That’s, -umph.”  I leaned over the railing and emptied my stomach of digestive juices.

Once I came to and leaned my back against the wooden bars, Leck threw a flask of water at me.  I caught it out of the air and squirted it into my mouth; passing it back to her with a nod of thanks.

“So, I heard you and your party are going to be fighting in the Colosseum.  Is it true?”

“Yes.”  I managed, closing my eyes.  God, the sun was so bright.

“I don’t really see what Yousef sees in you.  The most impressive thing I’ve seen you do is keep your breakfast down for a total of two hours.”  She continued.  “It’s not a joke you know.  If you’re under some contract with Yousef, you should find some other way to pay it back.”

I opened one eye to peer at the woman.  “You’ve seen the Colosseum?”

She nodded.

“Tell me about it.”  I leaned my head back again; anything to distract me from this rolling and bobbing.

“Monsters against adventurers.  Adventurers against adventurers.  Occasional prisoners.  What else is there to say? It’s a barbaric sport that spills blood for coins.”

“Sounds like you don’t care for Yousef or his Colosseum much”

“The man’s true to his word and his coin is as heavy as the next one.  Just a pity that people like you have to die to line his purse.”  

I opened my eyes and saw her studying me.  

She shrugged.  “I’ve watched you.  Those beastman? The ones with the Black Ears? They follow you and listen to you.  Same for the orcs, both their civvies and the berserkers.  The mage extends his trust to no one except you and the lizard.”

“It’s rare to see someone command that much respect in this corner of the world.”

“You’re a captain of a ship.”  I scoffed.  I wasn’t quite sure what she was getting at.  “It’s very humbling to hear that from you.”

“It’s different.  My men are sailors.  They might have a Core or two to defend themselves with but nothing like a real adventurer has.  Your men on the other hand… those Berserkers and the Black Dogs are trouble by themselves.  I’m not even sure how Yousef plans to bring them into Miltus.”

“What are you planning to do? Just bring them into Miltus and set them loose?  You’ll just be creating vagabonds and criminals.”

She… had a point.  Growing up in New York City, I knew all too well about the rampant homelessness and crime rates that could be caused by a sudden influx of people without a plan in place.  Hell, it wasn’t even limited to New York.  It was true everywhere and the issue had been a point of debate on news channels for months on end.

But at the same time, I didn’t have a responsibility towards these people beyond getting them into Miltus.

Didn’t I?

The berserker who sacrificed himself to Arione’s fireball, clinging onto the hope that I’d honor a promise which I specifically avoided, came to me.  He literally gave his life away on a gamble that I’d keep his promise.

I shook my head.  On the outside I was Lock, who was a newly freed slave aspiring to be an officially registered adventurer.  That’s the people that the people following me respected and obeyed.  But on the inside? I was still Han, a 30-year-old programmer whose former-millionaire parents were divorced, with no friends to speak of.

This issue of vagabonds, criminals and homelessness wasn’t something I was equipped to deal with.

“I’ll talk to Kyrian about it later.”  I wanted to change the topic.

“The mage is smart but the one they follow is you.”  The elf insisted.

I felt the footsteps of annoyance thud into the center of my heart but reigned it in; no point in pissing off the captain of this ship.  “You’re very interested in this topic.”   I pointed out.

“I grew up in Miltus.  In the Slums.  Trust me, it’s not pretty.”  She looked towards the sky, seeing something in the clouds that only someone who had spent their entire life on the sea could.  “Let’s say I have sentimental interest in people who’re no doubt going to end up there.”

“You think we’re going to end up there?”

“Yousef promised you lodging? For the lot of you?”  She shook her head.  “Did you think he’d set you and your people up in his manor? With servants at your beck and call? Perhaps you, Lock.  But the others, there’s no doubt where they’re going to end up.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“A free ride out of here.  Out of Miltus.  I’ll take you to anywhere else in the world; there are places where they’d pay good money for a mercenary work.”

“You’re offering to sell us off as mercs?”  I laughed, all thoughts about trying spare her feelings shriveling up like a rose in the desert sun.

“It’s better than the alternative.”

“You expect me to believe that you’re offering us, a group of former slaves, the chance to work as mercenaries? Where?  In the Zimmskar-Turina conflict that’s happening between their borders? Or in the Barbarian Invasion that’s happening in the Feverthorn jungle?”  I pointed a finger at her.  “Surely the captain of a ship that Yousef frequents isn’t doing this out of sentimental value for the slums where she grew up in.  Do you get a cut if you drop us off in a warzone? Where we’re surrounded by soldiers as soon as we depart?”

“Do not cross the line, human.”  She spat the word like a curse.  “The slave-trade was invented by your kind; the world did not know what slaves were until your people shackled the beastman in cold steel.  I offered you a way out in case yo were having second thoughts about the Colosseum.  You have no idea what Miltus is like.  It’s a gilded city-”

“I’ll take my chances.”  I interrupted her before more of her spit got on me. 

Her eyes widened and I saw her fingers twitch towards the rapier she wore on her waist.

“Don’t.”  My voice came out colder than I meant, flatter.  “Even if you’re drawing your blade to just make a statement… just don’t.”

Not a moment too soon, the sailor in the crow’s next began yelling.

“Land ho! Land! Miltus!”

Leck and I glared at each other a moment longer.  “You’re well-versed in current happenings despite being a slave.”

“He’s had a good tutor.”  The air shimmered a few feet away from us and Kyrian revealed himself.  “And please do not threaten him… I reckon the others won’t take it kindly.”  

Leck’s pale complexion showed every vein with perfect clarity, especially the one right on the corner of her forehead which seemed to grow in line with her anger.

“I have to prepare for docking.  Please, excuse me.”  She turned stiffly and walked towards the bridge, barking orders.

“How long were you there for?”  I closed my eyes again, the mounting tension escaping out of me.

“Long enough to hear what she meant.”  Kyrian’s voice was wistful.  “I think she likes you.”

I cackled like a witch from a 90s kid’s movie.

“What gave you that idea?”  I looked to the mage to see if he suddenly caught sea-sickness and it was messing with his brain.

“A mage’s instinct.”  He took a seat next to me.  “I saw more than one maiden in my lifetime whose life was full of hardship, absent of a single loving touch.  So when it came time to express love… they’re awkward.  Unskilled as a newborn deer.”

“You speak like Arrosh.”

“...Do you miss him?”

I had told Kyrian and Skaris about Arrosh, my blind-orc master.  Skaris had been more interested in the fact that the orc had taught me to fight; especially given my martial prowess in such a short amount of time.  Kyrian on the other hand, he had focused more on the emotional aspect between us.  The relationship between Master and Student.

“It’s less of missing him and more of just wishing I knew what happened to him.”  I fidgeted with the dimension ring on my hand.  “I haven’t even begun to pay him back for everything he’s done for me.  With Clover and L’teya gone…”

“You feel like you let down everyone in your life who did something for you.  Ever.”

Kyrian nailed the uneasy feeling I had.  He was right; I felt like I let everyone down.

“Y-yeah.”  I admitted, heat flushing to my cheeks.

I only had Clover and L’teya before but they had been girls, so genuine moments like this had always been interrupted by random out-of-pocket moments where I wondered if they were interested in me.  Carnally.  But just now, as I was speaking with Kyrian it felt different than when I had been speaking with them.

Was this what it was like to have a friend? Like, a guy friend?

“I know the feeling all too well.”  Kyrian hugged his knees a little closer to himself and I was reminded of how young the mage was.  He was barely old enough to have graduated college.

“My… mother.  I let her down as well.”

I hesitated.

Was it rude to ask? Was it a sensitive topic? What if he didn’t consider me a friend?

“Just freaking ask.  You can’t always wait for the other person to open up first.”

It took a lot of courage and guts.  More so than when I had been facing down monsters.

“You never told me about your mother.  Were you two… close?”

I saw Kyrian mull over the question.

“Yes.”  He said finally.  “Are you familiar with the ‘an’ suffix?”

I shook my head.  

“My name, Kyrian Tricilan.  It means I am a bastard of the House Tricilo.  Any human whose name contains the double ‘an’ suffix betrays their illegitimacy.”

“The story of my mother and I is not anything special, quite common actually.  My mother was a housemaid and she caught the attention of my father: Kabian Tricilo.  Soon after, I was born.  Of course… the family was in an uproar.  My father was a powerful mage you see… and there was no guarantee than a child born between a powerful mage and a common maid would bear fruit with talents befitting of Tricilo line.”

“He took a wife and had another son; my younger half-brother Kristof Tricilo.  He is the current patriarch of the family.  As a result, my mother and I were ousted to a small cabin near the manor: beneath their notice at all times except the times that they wanted to seek us out.”

“I lived in that small cabin with my mother for all of fifteen years before I manifested my talent.  Fearing that I’d become a threat to the family, I was sent away to a Magic Tower to study.  To find my own path.  As you well know, I eventually became an adventurer; the Akka Xaluds promises of wealth and fortune were too tempting for me to pass up.”

I remained silent.

“I still think about her… of her dying alone.  In that cabin, where she used to tell me bedtime stories.  I regret telling myself that I’d make a fortune, buy a manor bigger than the Tricilo house and live in that place with my mother.”  Kyrian had a bitter-sweet smile on his face.  “I haven’t seen her since I left.”

“I’d give anything to be in that cabin again, listening to her bedtime stories.”  Kyrian finished by closing his eyes.  “So yes, I was close to my mother.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“That’s part of the reason why I follow you, Lock Slaveborn.  Because my life was full of people who made decisions for me, not caring about bastards, maids or slaves.  That I couldn’t create a path for myself; I lacked the courage to forge a path to seeing my mother again because I was scared of the Tricilo name.  But you… I saw you fight for people who enslaved you Lock.  When I saw you stand up and protect me, a former enemy… I made a decision.”

“I might not be able to be as brave as you and create a path for others to walk… but the least I could do is watch your back.

He put his hands on his knees and stood up.  

“Lock, do not take what Captain Leck said to heart.  But remember that depending on what you choose, lives are in the balance.  Perhaps it is the life of a mage who lives while thinking of what to tell his mother when he meets her again or the life of an orc child who had nothing to do with this war.”  

“Remember that inaction is a choice, to stand still and allow the world to take its course without your say.”

He began to walk away.

“So keep walking, Lock.  Make a path.  I will make sure that no one stabs you from the back.  You can count on it.”

The young blonde mage left, the sea-breeze stirring the edges of his robe.

I’d never seen such a lonely person.

With Kyrian’s words echoing in my mind, I wiped my mouth.  

I had to prepare myself for Miltus.

To forge a new path.

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