Reincarnated to the Past 10: Scythians Come (Patreon)

For a half-week more, I continued to work my ass off making crossbows, but as Ghigari’s scouts reported the Scythians coming closer and closer, my duties shifted from making crossbows to teaching women how to use them. 

Out of nowhere, Ureya decided that she wanted to learn how to use the “weird bow” too. I knew that she didn’t like me because of … something about me lying when I didn’t? Anyways, I would have thought that she wouldn’t have approached me for anything, but she did.

Unfortunately, Scythians were less than a day’s march from the tribe now. Everyone was anxious. For the first time since I entered the tribe, I joined their little feast before the battle tomorrow. 

A massive bonfire lit up the center of the tribal town, and all sorts of people danced around and about. I first thought that there must have been something wrong with the people, because why would they celebrate before battle?

So I asked Ghigari.

Ghigari looked at me as if I was the dumb one. 

“Then you would have us cower? Let the last days and nights of our memory be filled with sadness, fear, and worry? Without a doubt, many of my warriors will die in the battle tomorrow, some fighting as they always have while others die following your advice. There will always be death. I am letting them all celebrate what could be their last night with their tribe, their comrades, and their loved ones. Is that not what a people should do?”

I … understood where he was coming from, so I kept further questions to myself and simply enjoyed myself in the feast. In the end, however, I couldn’t find it in myself to join the throng of dancing tribespeople. I found myself content to just watch them from the edge of the feast, nursing a wooden cup filled with shit-quality mead. I wasn’t a fan of alcohol before I ended up in …early iron age(?) but even then, I flat out did not enjoy this low quality alcohol. The term “horse piss” came to mind every time I took a sip, but the burning sensation trickling down my throat kept me from thinking too much.

“You’re weird.”

“Hello, Ureya.”

At this point, I knew that the only person bold enough to say negative things about me were Ghigari and Ureya, and since I was looking at Ghigari dancing with his wife by the bonfire, it meant that the feminine voice who’d spoked to be from behind had to be Ureya. 

“Why do you not mingle with the rest of the tribe? You do so well with them.”

I struggled to answer for a second. “I’m … not a feast person,” I replied lamely. “I prefer people watching.”

“You don’t seem to be people watching.”

I sighed. “Fine, I have too much on my mind.”

“You always have too much on your mind.”

“Anything positive to say?”

She didn’t say anything. I guess she was too critical of me to say anything positive. I supposed that I was too “herbivore” for women of this age...

“... Thank you.”

“Hmm?” I looked to her in surprise as she sat down to my left with a cup of her own mead. Her face was flushed. Was she drunk? 

“Why are you cordial with me?”

Hmm? What an odd question. 

“You’re not the worst I’ve dealt with, person, animal, or event.”

“... I doubt that. I know that I am very rash and violent. I get it from my dad.”

I scoffed. “From what I hear about him, I don’t doubt that you got your temper from your father. But that’s not what you are talking about.”

She didn’t answer for a few moments. “No, and you also didn’t answer my question.”

I hummed. “People being rude, aggressive, or hostile to me just don’t bother me as much as it does other people. Not when I understand them.”

I could feel her glare on the left side of my face. “How would you understand?”

“I can’t understand you empathically but I can sympathize.”

“They are unfamiliar words,” she replied confusedly. “Are they the words of your people?”

“The first one, empathy, means to share the similar feeling and experience. Essentially, one understands when they say that they empathize with you. Sympathize means to feel pity or sorrow for someone else’s misfortune.”

She scoffed. “I don’t need pity. Not from a warrior.”

“I am not a warrior. I don’t live for battle, and I certainly do not like going into battle.”

“... You are right in saying that you don’t enjoy battle. You didn’t seem to be like any of the warriors in the tribe when you fought the Scythians.” 

We sat in silence for the rest of the feast. I left the feast early, one of the first to leave actually, and slept soundly in my own house, pleasantly inebriated and warm.

Tomorrow… tomorrow, I wouldn’t be so happy.

-VB-

I woke up the next morning before the crack of dawn. Silently, I took off the casual tunic and pants for a more heavily padded leather armor and leggings I’d made for this occasion in between the crossbow constructions. It had a pair of wide but thin pauldrons meant to block one blow that might incapacitate me, leather tunic covering back, side, and front, but heavily focused on the front, a belt of triple-layered leather strips meant to prevent arrows from hitting my thighs and crotch, and a pair of shin guards. 

And then, for the final piece of the armor set, I had a helmet with side and nasal guards. 

Taking a deep breath, I left my house, not completely sure that if I would come back to see it again.