Shadow of the Sun Ch. 09

Physical and emotional exhaustion prevents most movement, but I'm still able to worm my way into her lap and gently headbutt her shoulder until she starts stroking my hair. She's terrible at it. Strangely enough, that fits her personality--the acrobatic and lithe dominant returning to her uncoordinated, awkward self as soon as her time in the spotlight ends. I make a mental note to tease her about it later. We rest for a few more moments like that, catching our breath and cooling our passions.

"Let's get you some water and a bed." Francine eventually pulls me to my feet and wraps an arm around my shoulder to keep me steady. "You'll need your rest. After all, we're not through the woods yet."

*****

"Inn ren Sol mentieren, inn ren dus. As the Sun rises, so do I."

Eshe carefully steps over a charred wooden beam in an attempt to get a more complete view of the wreckage before them. The early morning autumn wind makes the smell of smoke impossible to avoid--they can almost feel it seeping into their cloak and hair as they circle the remnants of what was once an inn. Soldiers crawl over the foundation like ants, shoveling piles of ash and heaving away larger chunks of lumber and masonry.

"Wasn't much to be done once it started. Haven't found any bodies inside yet, though." Ina follows close behind them. Since reporting the incident to Eshe, she's maintained the 'responsible passerby' affect in an attempt to mask her involvement and avoid discipline. It won't work. "Ought to be done by noon."

"And the owner?" Eshe's voice has the low, gravelly tone one would expect from someone awoken before dawn to inhale dust.

Ina shrugs. "He got real mad and came at some of the Duke's men with a spade. They beat him and dragged him off."

The lieutenant closes their eyes and rubs their temples. "Alright. Let me know if you find any dead. Dismissed."

After only four days in Niol, the occupation is already on the verge of becoming a sacking. Anyone could have seen it coming--Berinni's coalition of mercenaries and conscripts were promised and then promptly denied a war, being ordered instead to march into the capital and do nothing. Disordered soldiers filled with restless, disordered energy have a tendency to commit disordered deeds. Eshe mentioned that to Laviny on the march. He didn't seem concerned.

The lieutenant looks to the horizon and sighs.

"Inn ren Sol mentieren, inn ren dus. As the Sun rises, so do I."

The sound of a distant scream jolts Eshe awake. Disorientation grips them for a moment before they come to terms with their surroundings--they're in the command tent. They've been sleeping in the old wooden chairs of the tent every night in an effort to make themself accessible to their soldiers. After all, they're in charge of the camp while Laviny partakes in negotiations, and the chaotic nature of their campaign means someone always needs to speak with them. Best to be easily found.

After only eight days in Niol, the Order's camp is one of the few safe places left in the city. Eshe and their sun-knights are supposed to have authority over the other legions in Berinni's coalition, but in practice, their attempts to give orders have all been met with lip service at best. As far as Eshe can tell, the Duke's plan for revolution was to assemble a giant pile of money and then throw it at whoever was willing to fight. And while it's gotten him this far, his forces are quickly dissolving into self-interested quarreling factions.

They stand and stretch their legs, working the sore spots in their neck and back developed by a week of bad sleep. Stepping over the discarded pieces of their armor lying on the floor of layered rugs, they open the main flap of the command tent and peer out into the darkness of the early morning hours. The inside of the camp is well-lit by magically powered sun orbs, but Eshe is far more interested in the sprawl of refugee tents and shacks just outside the camp's wooden walls--the scream likely came from somewhere out there. Not that they have any real way of finding out or any concrete plan of what to do if they did.

And yet they always feel compelled to look.

"Inn ren Sol mentieren, inn ren dus. As the Sun rises, so do I."

Eshe nods along as countless figures explain their recent tragedies. They still make an effort to walk the city streets every day, offering aid when they can and an ear when they can't. During the day, at least. A majority of the Order's soldiers aren't interested in going out at night, and forcing them could have consequences for morale. Nobody says it outright, but their reason why is clear: they don't want to risk their lives for the sake of civilians in a foreign land.

"...countless livestock dead..."

"...still can't find her..."

"...bandits squatting in my house..."

Eshe raises a hand to quiet the crowd. "South and east of town you'll find our camp; as of right now, each person can claim one free meal each day. Unfortunately, we currently lack the supplies and manpower to deal with your individual issues. But rest assured, we will stay until your city is well once more." They've memorized the speech by now. The majority of the crowd accepts it and walks away grumbling.

After only twelve days in Niol, their lack of sleep is becoming a serious issue. They've made do with much less before, but never so soon after a Reflection--the lingering effects of the ritual cloud their mind and tax their body, making what would otherwise be acceptable duress into a brutal slog. Refracted bits of color still dance before their eyes, and flashes of intense heat reminiscent of the sweat lodge are liable to strike them at any moment. Their stomach is never quite settled and their eyes ache for lack of rest; as a whole, they are stuck in a numb haze. So much so, in fact, that they fail to notice a civilian before walking into them.

"Oof! Hey, watch it!" the woman shouts, falling down onto her back. She's short and wiry, with a frock of bright red hair wrangled into two long braids.

Eshe blinks slowly and then rushes to offer a hand once they catch up with reality. "Apologies, madam."

"Whatever." The redhead takes their hand and pulls herself back onto her feet, brushing the dirt off of her tunic. She wears several layers of linen clothing, all of which have clearly seen a great deal of use. "Oy, aren't you all sorcerers?"

"...what?" Eshe glances back at their escort, both of whom are clearly eager to move on.

"Well, it's just that every story I ever read about sun-knights has 'em using more magic than the Queen Herself." She peers at Eshe curiously. "So if that's true, why are you talking about supplies n' all that? Can't you just..." Her hands wave about vaguely.

Eshe sighs. "No. There are complicated rites and rituals involved to use any sorcery." Their nausea flares up as they gesture to the other soldiers and begin walking away. "Have a nice day. Stay safe."

A few seconds after they turn away, they hear the rapid tapping of footsteps against the cobblestone street as the civilian rushes back over. "Name's Riley, by the by. Next time you might want to learn a gal's name before you bowl her over."

Eshe very nearly smiles at that. "Knight-Lieutenant Eshe of the Order of Sol Gloria."

Riley walks alongside them, constantly falling behind and then rushing forward a few steps to keep pace. "You here to kill the Queen?"

One of the Order's soldiers shoots Eshe a sidelong glance, silently offering to rid them of their uninvited companion. Eshe subtly shakes their head. The company gives them something to focus on besides their splitting headache. "Kill the Queen? Where did you hear that?"

Riley shrugs. "Word around the docks says you are. Says She's gone mad, and that the sun-knights descended from the skies to put Her down."

"It's not that simple."

"Can't be that complex; either you off Her or you don't."

The corner of Eshe's mouth tugs upward. "We're not here to kill the Queen."

"Huh. Then what are you here for?"

Eshe doesn't have an answer to that. They settle for a change of subject instead.

"What do you do around here, Riley?"

"Runner, courier. Dockworker when things are slow, at least before they closed the river down tighter than a..." Riley sheepishly glances at Eshe. "Tight...knot. Last two weeks I've been mostly busy staying alive, though. Good work if you can get it."

"That it is. Whereabouts do you live?"

Riley kicks at a loose stone, hands shoved in her pockets to stave off the cold. "Dunno."

Eshe tries to sneak a look over at the redhead only to find her doing the same. Her eyes are a dazzling blue; bright enough to make them feel a little bit more awake. They try not to imagine what those eyes have seen as of late.

They continue their circuit throughout Niol in silence. Other civilians occasionally follow along with the group, realize they aren't offering anything, and then peel away. Riley sticks around. Once the main gate of the Order's camp is in sight, Eshe feels growing anxiety twisting in their gut. They could help this poor young woman; find an extra tent and let her stay inside the walls away from the violence and chaos. Feed her what would likely be her first full meal in days; give her the opportunity to bathe and sleep soundly. Offer her genuine companionship, if she so chooses.

They're about to invite her inside when they catch the expressions on their soldiers' faces. Both their escort and the gate guards alike regard Riley with naked suspicion and hostility, viewing her as a potential threat. Eshe remembers back to Ina at the tavern fire, the woman-at-arms having no doubt just spent the night drinking and whoring with the offending mercenaries. They remember the stony faces of the watchmen as a brutal melee broke out between refugees and bandits just outside the camp. And above all else, they remember the disinterested faces of Laviny and the Duke as they received Eshe's reports on the growing violence all around them.

Riley wouldn't be safe in the camp--she'd be a pariah. A target. The roots of disorder had spread underneath the walls and into the hearts of their soldiers.

Even still, Eshe's heart suffers when they leave her behind. She stands outside the gate, watching them go with her wide blue eyes until one of the guards shoos her away.

Eshe's thoughts and feelings layer over one another in a scrambled mess as they walk to the command tent. The Path, it seems, has made itself invisible to them--to the point where they doubt even the loyalties of those beneath them and the motives of those above. They need a moment to themself to think.

They do not get a moment to themself to think.

"Lieutenant!" One of the guards outside the command tent snaps into a salute. "There is a guest waiting for you, Ser. One Viscount Paolo Liotenz."

"At ease," they mumble as they walk past the guard and through the entrance flap.

Sure enough, the Viscount awaits them inside--his boyish good looks slightly more rugged thanks to his unshaven face and leather armor.

He stands as he notices them enter. "Ser Eshe! I apologize for not planning a meeting ahead of time; as you might imagine, schedules in the palace are quite unpredictable."

A dizzy spell strikes Eshe. They feel like they're about to vomit. "Not to worry, Viscount. It's a pleasure to have you." They meander their way over to their chair-slash-bed, clumsily sitting down while still in half plate armor. "But I'm not sure I can offer you anything that the Knight-Captain could not."

Paolo smoothly removes his sword belt and sits down as well. "Ah! Well, I am here under unusual circumstances."

Eshe braces themself for the bad news or absurd request that inevitably follows the words 'unusual circumstances.'

"I want to speak with you about Lady Veronica Tiern."