Guite was standing across from Yepnen. He still could not supress the feeling of unease he had. He was holding a sword, but it didn’t seem we has proficient with it. In contrast to that, Yepnen’s posture was natural. Boris had seen his brother duel with sons of the neighboring lands a couple of times. Usually, they didn’t fight to kill and be killed. It was just like a sword competition, and most of the time it was ended after one or the other side was wounded.  He knew Yepnen dueled. He just never saw him up close. A few steps’ distance away, Yepnen and his cold, blue eyes were quite different from the usually warmth of them. It was almost hard to believe it was the same person.

Yepnen said curtly,

“Draw your sword.”

With Guite’s draw, Yepnen simultaneously moved the hand holding his own sword. When Winterer’s blade came out, everyone was shocked, the witnesses included. Some people in the midst of them whispered to each other.

“Look at that white blade … It’s not a usual sword.”

“I wonder what that is. Anyone know about it?”

The sun was to the west, and its reddish light was on the backyard. The onlookers’ faces were colored red, like they were all drunk. In the midst of that, the white aura of Winterer gave a chilly sense of a piece of ice being thrust into their chest.

One man remarked in a low voice,

“They say that there’s a sword called the winter blade …”

Just then, the two duelers ran to the center of the yard. They then proceeded to guard against each other. Winterer started to burn like the red sun.

The first to attack was Guite: like any other novice swordsman, he thought that a preemptive attack was optimal. But as soon as his sword brushed Winterer, he understood that this fight was on a wrong footing from the start.

He could not apply his strength for long enough. The thin, young Yepnen’s arm strength was much more than Guite’s, even though he was able to go without starving purely by his fists. Winterer had magical beauty, and devilish sharpness. Guite quickly retreated after he saw the tip of his blade being sliced off.

It was Yepnen’s turn next. He closed to range in two strides and diagonally struck the apprehensively shivering sword. The blades skidded off each other. Guite’s sword vibrated with a metallic friction sound, then let out a clear peal. No-one  knew what it was, because only the wielder of Winterer could know.

Guite seemingly popped a vein and blocked two consecutive blows with his best skill. And it ended there.

Tssrrr… kssssh!

“What in the…”

Not only Guite, but most of the people around him exclaimed in shock. Guite’s sword shattered and fell to the ground in a shower of pieces. It was not two or three shards either. It was something that could never be done with a sword of iron or steel. What was that white blade?

“E…”

The situation was obvious to Guite now. He didn’t hesitate and dropped to the ground as he saw Yepnen’s Winterer sweep in for a stab. He smacked the ground with his forehead and started rubbing his hands together.

“P-Please, don’t kill … me… mercy …”

No more worrying about keeping his face, when his life was in jeopardy. Yepnen stopped his sword, pointing straight at Guite’s neck.

“Do you capitulate?”

“Yes, yes, sir, of course sir.”

Yepnen replied in a cold voice,

“Do you remember the promise you made with me?”

“That …”

That was a terrible thing, but better than dying. Guite nodded after a short pause, quivering .

“Stand.”

The sun dipped under the horizon. The inn started to hang up lamps, and Yepnen lead Guite into the inn at sword-point.

Boris followed his brother in. He didn’t get to match eyes with Yepnen, and he was nervous. Would Yepnen really feed all of the soup to that man? If it was the usual Yepnen, he wouldn’t … but Yepnen also ate that soup just now.

The people around them could not take their eyes off Winterer. Speaking softly enough that Yepnen could barely hear them, they exchanged short words. Winterer was again letting off a white glow, like it was newly cleansed.

Guite sat at the table, and Yepnen kept his sword on Guite’s back, standing. He ordered,

“Eat.”

Guite raised his spoon. It was visibly shaking. During that time, multiple grubs had crawled out of the bowl onto the table. There was less grubs than at the start, but the sight of them crawling out was even more disgusting. Guite was already choking like he was going to throw up before he took a single spoon.

Yepnen spoke again.

“I am not saying it twice.”

“Yepnen …”

Boris’s voice was quavering, but Yepnen didn’t even spare him a glance. He was expressionless. Yepnen was not the older brother that always smiled at him brightly right now.

One by one, the watchers turned their sight away, because they did not want to see either eventual result. But for some reason, no-one actually left. Guite dipped his spoon into the bowl with a weak hand. Slowly, his shoulder started shivering too. He ate.

Yepnen didn’t turn away to the last. Guite took a few spoonfuls, threw up, and ate again, then throwing up once more. Yepnen kept his sight on him. Guite grew limp like a wet weed and violently vomited before passing away. Finally, Yepnen took Boris with him and left.

“Brother.”

“Mmm?”

Yepnen had just tended the candle wick before coming to their bed. He glanced at Boris, who was curled up on the sheets with a worried expression. Yepnen softened his own and asked,

“Are you worried about something?”

” . . . ”

Yepnen removed his boots and perched them in a corner, and then came back up to the bed and patted Boris’s back. He was shivering.

“Now, tell it to your brother.”

Boris’s grey eyes looking into his big brother’s. They were quaking like the peaceful expression of Yepnen’s was something unexpected. Yepnen guessed what Boris was thinking.

“Boris, you …”

“It’s a relief that you are ok.”

Boris abruptly said. It was the truth.

“It’s a relief that you won against that man, too. But I . . . I think that you looked a bit different when you did. Aah, but of course, I don’t say that you did wrong . . . I know that you had to. If Father was here, he would say that you did good. But, but . . .”

“No.”

Yepnen interrupted.

“No, Boris. You saw well. You were probably the only one who could see it, too.”

He smiled faintly before sitting against a wall a bit away from Boris. He ignored Boris’s eyes for a bit, while looking through the open shutters.

“Boris, I . . .”

Yepnen stopped again for a long time. Boris looked out the window with Yepnen. Stars were scattered densely across the night sky.

“You and I were not always what our father wished from us, were we?”

Boris knew too. Father didn’t blame the two’s friendship, but he wanted them to be more tough and cold, to be unswayed by affection. He had been opposed to and hated Blado. It wasn’t too much of a stretch of thought to understand why he wanted that.

The candle wavered, and Yepnen’s voice picked up again.

“I think that Father’s thoughts were right too, as late as I am now. I ought to explain why to you instead of our father now, aye? To not weaken your mind because of petty things like sympathy. To win against any and all pains or hurts. To become like that.”

What did Yepnen want to say?

“If I was able to take care of you for a long time, if only I could do that . . . If I could, I would keep you like this, warm-hearted, soft eyes. I would make it so you could live that way for as long as you want.”

Why was he talking like he was going to leave soon?

“But I cannot always be beside you. Or, more exactly, even if I could, I shouldn’t. You probably have your own path, and you must become stronger in order to find it yourself. . . you have to become tougher.”

His eyes, similar to their mothers’, seemed to be watery. Yepnen spoke surely, accenting each word clearly, like he was forcing himself to speak words he didn’t want to.

“Boris, if you cannot become a rock, you must be a clam. Even if you are soft inside, clamp down hard and hide that. It is okay to weep in a private room, but be a clam. In that room, no-one will care.”

Boris was mystified. He did not understand why Yepnen was saying this. It was certain that he was speaking out of love, but that wasn’t all. It was too abrupt, and not the natural talking he did usually.

It was like he was trying to force a child to become a man.

It was like there was a reason he had to.

“The world . . . I know that it would not let you stay a small, kind boy. I wish that you could understand that soon.”

Soon, soon . . . Yepnen’s tone was regretful. It was like wishing for a nestless baby bird to fly, like wishing for an impossible thing.

“Brother, so you’re planning to be such a person?”

As Boris asked after a long silence, Yepnen swallowed his words and looked away, before replying.

“Yes.”

“Of course . . .”

Now that the house had crumbled, he decided to think that Yepnen was trying to suggest things in case he grew weak. So, he nodded with big, exaggerated motions as if to reassure him. Today’s events were probably something that wouldn’t have happened if they had kept to the Longourd mansion. It was not a strange thing, Yepnen showing another side of himself. This place wasn’t someplace where everyone protected them. It was either strangers or enemies surrounding. In preparation for sleep, he started taking his clothes off, but Yepnen stopped him, shaking his head.

“Don’t take off your armor, Boris.”

“Why?”

Yepnen bitterly smiled.

“We don’t know if some people would come try to kill us. I’ll watch, and you go to sleep. I’ll wake you at dawn.”

Huff, and the candle was blown out.

At first, Boris thought he was dreaming. But as his sleep slowly wore off, he knew it was not. He could see his brother and Winterer on the ground. Yepnen was leaning on the bed frame, his head down. He first thought he had waken because he had heard something, but then realized he was crying silently. So silently, that it was probable that Boris hadn’t waken up because of the sound. But …

… Boris could tell from the stifling silence that Yepnen was being tortured by some important thing. The silence made a young boy’s ears ring and his chest constrict. It almost seemed like the sorrowful silence itself had waken Boris. Should he had have talked to him? But Boris could not say anything. The soundless, painful quiet was vividly engraving itself into his mind. Tears started to flow down his  cheek. Without knowing why, he cried without a sound like that. Why did he? Why?

The next day, the two left the town and headed back out to the plains.

Of the single horse they had, Boris rode most of the time while Yepnen grasped the reins for him, walking and speaking of this and that. The tales were not like the silly or fun stories of ages past, nor were they funny things that happened in neighboring lands. Boris asked Yepnen every time he saw a new tree or flower, but unlike before he simply stated the name of it and stopped. Unlike before, he did not tell Boris the beautiful legends or stories about them.

“Yepnen, did you forget all the tales you had before?”

When Boris asked that, Yepnen smiled with only his lips and replied,

“I think so.”

Even Boris could tell that he was not sincerely smiling.

Though they walked until evening, they did not find a new town. Before leaving the previous one, they had made sure to ask the way to this one, but it seemed they still got lost.
“I think we’ll have to camp here for the day.”
Before it became too dark to, the brothers searched around for a good spot. They found one, and collected kindle like dry grass and twigs to start a fire. Yepnen had went on hunting trips for days with the neighboring sons of landlords, and thus seemed to be proficient with these things. The horse was tied to a small bush, because there were no trees that were sizable. Gazing at the fire reminded Boris of the torches that had surrounded the mansion. The shadows danced here and there because of the movement of the flame.
At first they didn’t realize it. Shortly after, Yepnen told Boris in a low voice,
“Boris, take your sword.”
As tension swept over his body, the hairs on his body stood. Yepnen nonchalantly threw a branch into the fire, before standing up, grasping Winterer.
“Really, do you even need to hide with those numbers?”
Afterwards, whenever Boris thought of Yepnen, he remembered three times. One was Yepnen’s blue eyes, asking Boris to die together, and  another was when Yepnen was standing in front of the flame, holding Winterer, his shadowed back. And the final one was . . .
“You arrogant little . . .”
Boris didn’t budge, grasping his short sword. Yepnen slowly drew Winterer. Even in the little light of the campfire, the elegant blade did not lose its luster; it shone in the dark like a crack in the dark.
“Surround’m!”

Boris saw the force of their enemy. The people surrounding the fire were about twenty-strong or more. Additionally, they were all brandishing weapons, like swords. Yepnen recognized one of the faces in the crowd and coldly said,

“Quite a lot of bodyguards, eh, Guite?”

It was partially a taunt. Guite scrunched up his face; one of the others retorted, displeased,

“Do you really think we came here to help that wretch?”

“Hmph, it seems you aren’t smart enough to know what’s happening.”

The enemy circled and started to solidify their position. The sound of their horse being chased away was heard from afar. Shadows prowled about. Yepnen quickly glanced around, trying to find who the leader was.

“What do you want?”

Boris got up, and stood back to back with Yepnen, with the fire in between them. He did not have any experience with a sword save for wooden ones, but he thought that he should not let the men know. He did a pretty good impression, but the enemy was overwhelming.

What seemed to be the leader stepped towards the fire.

“Your sword. It must be Winterer, no?”

As suspected . . . Yepnen bit down on his lip and firmly held his sword. If speaking his name at the duel was a mistake, it was quite a mistake. But Yepnen did not think it right to kill someone without telling his name. Even acknowledging the danger in dueling, long as he wanted to fight for his honor, it was a step that could not be omitted.

“Hand it over, and we’ll let you go quietly.”

The leader had black sideburns and was a tall man. He had a rumbling, powerful voice, and on his exposed chest were two sword scars. Chances were, he was quite the person if he was able to borrow that much people.

He spoke again.

“The young one is too little to die yet. Don’t you think so?”

Yepnen was not good enough to slay twenty. But he also wasn’t just going to hand his sword over before he died. As for Boris, though …?

Then, Boris spoke.

“Twelve years can’t be said as being not old enough to know the world.”

“Huh, so, what do you want to say, little one?”

The black sideburn-sporting man thought it meant they would hand the sword over, and asked curtly towards Boris.

“That I know when I have to die.”

There was no longer need for words. The first man darted out from the flank, sword high. Yepnen’s Winterer flashed horizontally, and blood sprayed in the dark.

“Careful!”

The second sword was from the left. As it bounced off Winterer’s guard, the skin on Yepnen’s hand’s back ripped. The short, white sword was pulled towards, then pushed outwards against the sword that arced in from the front, in a diagonal. Winterer snapped out, and pierced the foe’s forehead. Hot liquid ran down the blade.

Boris tried to look straight at the dark. The first thing that appeared wasn’t a weapon, but something like a rope.

He stumbled back a step, stepped on a burning branch and blindly swung. The thwick sound accompanied the feeling of a rope being cut. In his tense state, he didn’t recognize that he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Someone swung a morningstar at Yepnen’s head, but the chain wrapped around Winterer. Yepnen tugged, and the chain snapped. The weight at the end rolled into the fire. The burning branches broke; embers flew around.

“Hmph . . .so that’s the rumored ‘frozen sunder’ of Winterer.”

The frozen sunder was one of Winterer’s special abilities. It represented the cold explosion of it. When it met another material, it could force the temperature to very low depths and destroy the material. However, one could only use it when both Winterer and Snowguard were present.

Still, it was a powerful characteristic that could not be compared with the weapon-breaking weapons. It was magic.
“Quite some skill! Let’s see how useful it is after your brother’s pierced by a sword!”

Three men surrounded Boris and approached. The two brother’s movement was completely visible due to the fire, while the enemies could hide in the dark and spot. Yepnen didn’t not know that, but if he jumped into the circle Boris would be at the enemies’ mercy. That was the sole reason he did not, or rather could not, get out of the trap.

To add insult to injury, the two’s eyes now had adapted to the light. It was nigh impossible to track the movement of their foes. A sword was shoved into the space between them. Yepnen spotted it too late to block. The man holding the sword pretended to attack Boris, before changing vector and using all his might to stab Yepnen.

Gggggkk…

A peculiar sound echoed. The sword slipped off the side of Snowguard and created weak friction heat. Simultaneously, the sword unexplainably vibrated, shaking the man’s hand. He almost dropped his sword in his alarm.

Even his shoulder was sore. The man with black sideburns’ eyes changed. He murmured quiet enough that no-one else heard,

“So, he has both pieces of the Winterbottom Kit?”

The incident at the Jinneman’s house wasn’t widely known yet. Following, he didn’t know why that house’s two sons were travelling abroad, so far away. But the rumored treasure was so close, and he was as greedy as any other man on the street, and wasn’t willing to let it go.

“Oi, try this man’s sword!”

Finally, the man and Yepnen traded blows. Once, and twice; two hits were exchanged, and in those two hits each knew that the other wasn’t a run-of-the-mill person. But Yepnen was a young man, and the other man was a veteran warrior who lived off the sword. He drew back, pretending to be beaten back, and started tugging Yepnen forward with him. Once he started to move, it was hard to fall back – if he lost the tempo of the fight, he would probably be in dire straits. More worrisome was the fact that the man didn’t keep his blade on Yepnen’s for too long, because he knew Winterer’s ability. Yepnen felt like praying, to anyone, every time he moved forward half a step. One mistake would end this all.

Tsrrrr… clang!

The two blades hit each other once, slid, then one was quickly removed from the other to avoid the frozen sunder. Yepnen took the affirmative and lashed out.

“Hah!”

It was just a hair away from succeeding. Just before Winterer’s blade entered the neck of the man, something strange happened.

” . . . ”

The opponent went limp, falling to the ground, even though the sword did not enter him. He fell without a sound.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

 3419 words

I went ahead and did one two-week’s worth update. Hope no-one missed it too much ^^;

I had the feeling that the fight scene at the end feels a bit dragging, and I kinda struggled through it T^T Anyone else felt that way?

Anyhow, bye for the week!

Seven or eight men vaulted the table and charged. Yepnen was taken aback by the unexpected way things had unfolded, and quickly blocked his brother, but was a beat too late. If he had drawn his sword, it would have been impossible to get away without killing.

He raised a chair and smashed the first man who came his way, and threw it and struck another one. It wasn’t enough. Three clubs beat him from behind, and one hit squarely on his waist.

“. . .”

He couldn’t let out his yell. Boris ran in and hugged his brother, and the thugs tripped them and started kicking and stepping on the two.

“Be thankful of what?”

“Ch, you tiny thing dares say that?”

“A moron like you should have his face kicked in to teach you what is right!”

Yepnen covered Boris with his body and got hit by most of the kicks. The armored part of his body was ok, but other parts’ clothes were ripped off and the exposed flesh scourged by the rough boots.

The man Yepnen had forgiven was the most violent. It was like he wasn’t satisfied with kicking: he shouted with an evil smile,

“Good riddance! Who’s inviting whom … Oh, yes, let’s invite these bastards to a great feast!”

He reached out with his arm and grabbed Yepnen’s collar. The surrounding men grabbed Yepnen and supported him to the table. They also twisted his arms above his head. Another man took hold of Boris and brought him to the table in his side. One person picked up the spoon. Boris saw that, and his face paled.

“A whole spoonful for you . . . since I’m an indulgent man.”

The spoon entered the bowl; when it came out again, seven wriggling worms were on it. The disgusting yellow soup dripped every time the bugs moved. The spoon approached Boris’s lips. He crazily shook his head and twisted around to no avail. If he opened his mouth, he was sure those bugs would soon enter.

Yepnen paused at his efforts to throw the men holding him off, and shouted,

“Leave him alone! What atrocities are you trying to commit to a child?”

One of the men who were grabbing him asked curiously,

“Then would you eat instead?”

The men all looked at Yepnen like they had caught wind of an amusing conundrum. They also saw the handsome man’s forehead creasing in thought, then him biting his lip and looking at his younger brother. They did not think he would really eat those bugs instead of Boris. They just were enjoying Yepnen torturing himself.

But a chain of thought that more base men would not understand was quickly resolving in Yepnen’s mind. What was his only hope right now, especially since he didn’t have much left he could do for him.

Yepnen spoke.

“Yes. Bring it over.”

“…What?”

It was quiet for a moment, then they looked between themselves and realized each one of them hadn’t listened incorrectly.

They each had an expression that said, “Is that guy serious?”, and checked that their neighbors were thinking that too. After another moment, one man said,

“Che, let’s drop it. I don’t like those kinds of men.”

“My heart’s not into it anymore. Damn it, now it’s not a little prank, is it?”

Most of them were of similar opinion. But only one man wasn’t. It was the very one who was pardoned by Yepnen. He called himself Guite.

“Are you saying we should leave that arrogant boy alone? Don’t you know that leaving right now just makes us laughing stock? You should carry through to the end if you started!”

Guite stalked over to one of his comrades and swiped the spoon, dumping its contents and getting another spoonful of soup. He walked over to Yepnen and looked at him with contempt. By nature, this bunch’s habit and hobby was being hostile to outsiders, but travelers like Yepnen were especially unpleasant to them. A smooth, pretty face lake they were from an old noble house, and polite speech. Decent fighting skills and a decent amount of money.

Why didn’t they just live on their lands, stay quietly holed up in their homes? Why did they come to this inn, where the dirty pigs he and his men were rolled about? The thing he despised most was Yepnen’s calm eyes. They seemed to be saying that he knew what they were, he knew that you could but act like that …

Guite hated that. He felt like he needed to see the alarmed, despairing, the sight of his victims giving up… and so did the other people.

“Open up.”

“. . . ”

“What, you saying no now?”

“. . .”

“Guess I should feed it to the younger one.”

Guite turned about in an exaggerated motion. Yepnen’s voice was heard behind him. But unlike what Guite wanted, it was still calm and stable.

“Stop.”

Freaking … arrogant thing.

He abruptly grabbed Yepnen’s jaw with his left hand and forced it open. He then drove in the spoon.

“Guuh…”

Guite himself looked away for a moment. When he looked back while removing the spoon, he was shocked at the unexpected sight. Yepnen slowly chewed. He then had a hint of a sneer before swallowing, cleanly. He swallowed.

“Wh… that’s… I mean…”

The people who were holding Yepnen had let go in their amazement. In fact, Yepnen could had spit out whatever was in his mouth as soon as they let go. But he didn’t. He extracted his arms slowly and stepped towards Guite. Guite saw Yepnen’s hand go to the hilt of the sword on his belt. He also heard a chilly voice speak to him.

“I formally challenge you to a duel. I am Yepnen Jinneman, firstborn of the lord of Longourd, Eulken Jinnman, and the heir to the land. Announce your position.”

No-one was thinking of laying hand on Yepnen again. They were fearfully looking at the sword on his belt, and also knew that it wasn’t a normal sword. Though the scabbard was patternless and simple, there was a white glow on it. Also, a son of a (land)lord? That meant winning was doom, and losing was sure demise also!  Guite stuttered, retreating and not getting out a reply. But everyone in the hall was now looking at the two. Unlike Yepnen, a traveler, Guite was a town gangster and lived solely by that virtue. If he backed down here, he will never be able to raise his head again. He would be the laughing stock of not only the townspeople but also his own gang.

“I am … Guite … Fillone.”

Yepnen was now expressionless. The mere glance of him at the man who was holding Boris made him hesitate, before letting Boris down. Yepnen called Boris over with a beckon.

Again, without any change in expression, Yepnen spoke again.

“Of course, I shall kill you.”

Guite’s face slowly whitened. Yepnen continued.

“If you wish to live, there is a single way to. Before we duel, and I kill you, you may prostrate yourself and admit defeat. If you do that, though,”

Yepnen pointed to the bowl still on the table,

” I promise on the honor of my house to feed every single drop of whatever’s in that bowl to you.”

It was unavoidable now. Guite breathed raggedly and attempted to calm down, before glaring at his gang members. However, they all did not look at him.

Yepnen looked around, and said to the cheeky counter girl,

“Can we use the backyard?”

Up till now, from first entering the inn to paying, Yepnen was a novice traveler, unaccustomed to everything. But right now, he wasn’t. Swords and duels were what he had learned from young till now. It was what was most natural for him. Once he had said the name of his house, he didn’t need an iota of hesitation nor dither.

This time, the woman couldn’t say anything flippant, and just nodded. Yepnen looked around the hall and went to a merchant group who seemed to be the most estranged from this situation and politely asked for them to witness. They were already intimidated by Yepnen’s force and did not decline. According to the traditions of Travachess, if each side had witnesses to a duel neither were guilty of killing another man in that fight.

Yepnen then went outside along with Boris. The curious masses rumbled after him. Guite and his gang came out a long time afterwards. They didn’t dare venture to run.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Phew, all done! 1416 words.

I went to Chicago over the last three days, so I almost missed my personal deadline of one week >.> Next chapter is chapter 2 of part 2, Winterer.

Boris opened his eyes in a grass patch.

Bright sunshine warmed his face. He didn’t have anything other than a single sword on him. There was no-one around him.

He stood up, and realized it was a totally foreign place. Where am I? He promptly recalled the events of last night. He remembered the part up to where he stood back to back with Yepnen. He could remember the panting that burnt his throat. But after that…?

After a hard blow to the head, it seemed, there was nothing but chaos. Boris thought the absence of any memory to be because he had fainted. Still… it seemed that… there was something…
“Boris! You’re awake?”

Boris felt like someone had just hit his head hard, and spun around. He saw Yepnen walking towards him, holding a water-filled wooden bucket. His words sounded like he was disbelieving.

“… Yepnen?”

Yepnen smiled at the bewildered boy, and handed him the bucket.

“Of course, silly. How many Yepnens do you even know?”

Boris gaped at Yepnen, not thinking of drinking the water. He didn’t know why. Without warning, two streams of tears flowed from his eyes.

“What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

Yepnen came and placed his hand over Boris’s forehead. Boris dropped the bucket and embraced Yepnen. The water wetted their pants. Boris spoke up before Yepnen had a chance to.

“No, big brother… I-I. I just, was happy to see you. . . ”

Boris didn’t know why he did that, either. The most important parts of last night didn’t come up. It was weird. The other memories were fine, but only that part was erased from his mind.

Yepnen didn’t say anything, and patted Boris’s shoulder before breaking away. He then knelt and lowered himself to Boris’s level, before brushing his cheek.

“Heh, you seem to be frightened by something.”

The two headed again to the spring together after Boris calmed downed. It was not that far. The surroundings were all plains, like their home Longgourd. The spring was small. It was circled with round rocks, and a severed string – Yepnen had probably cut it – was attached to a stake. The two drank their fill before retying the bucket.

“Yepnen, where are we?”

“This is the Hata Plateau, part of the Guirem house’s land. Longgourd is south of here. Haven’t you heard of this place?”

Yepnen’s awkward grin was that of a guilty man. Boris tilted his head to one side and asked,

“How did we get so far in a single night?”

Yepnen swung his arm and indicated the rear of the spring. A unfamiliar horse was tied there. The notion that they rode here made Boris’s mind whirl. How did he not wake up on the back of a horse, even though he had fainted? How could someone be unconscious for so long? The next question was obvious. His older brother’s mood was so cheery, and the surroundings so peaceful, he asked something without preparing for the chance of a bad answer.

“Where’s Father?”

“Ah. . .”

Yepnen started to speak, but didn’t. Boris wondered what had happened, widening his eyes. Yepnen, seeing that, answered hastily,

“Ah. So . . . he went somewhere else, not here. With Tulk . . . I don’t know where exactly. It was too chaotic, so we scattered. . . and I ran.”

“How do we find Father then?”

Yepnen replied briskly,

“Tulk will contact us with magic.”

Boris nodded his head in acceptance.

“Then I guess we have to get by by ourselves for now? After that, can we go back home? Eh-hh, what about Uncle Blado?”

“Going back home is … a bit hard….”

As Yepnen trailed off, Boris nodded again like he knew, too. Their uncle’s ferocity was apparent even to the five-year-old Boris. At that time, Blado came to visit Father alone, and grinned from ear to ear while grabbing him and pretending to drop him into the well. How Father chased Blado away, he didn’t remember. At first, Boris had thought Uncle was playing with him and had giggled in joy. But even as the steadily more dark well became scary, Blado didn’t stop ‘playing’. Father and he had talked about something difficult to understand.

“Should we go to our great aunt’s?”

When Yepnen suggested something out of the blue, Boris blinked. They only had one great aunt, but Boris had never met them. Their father’s aunt was a far away, unfamiliar person. From what he remembered, she was a different party from Father. Did Yepnen know their great aunt well, even though no letters were exchanged at all?

“Great aunt… Janin?”

“Yup. She’ll probably be in Elmer City. Candidate Shmülen, of the March party, is the mayor of that city. Although it’s a bit far, we’ll be able to get there in a month.”

“Do you think she’ll welcome us?”

Yepnen moved his head so that his hair touched each of his shoulders in turn, then smiled sadly.

“We don’t know that yet. But Father… before Father finds us, we don’t have anywhere else to go, either. Great aunt’s party is not hostile to our’s. . . but there is an alternative.”

“Which is?”

Yepnen drooped his shoulders like he was the man with the most difficult thing to say in the world.

“Candidate Katsya.”

“Aah.”

Boris was quiet. Though he didn’t know for sure, because he was young, he did know that he was the very important person Father had served. Since Yepnen had followed Father on some trips he would know him, but Boris not only never saw him, but also thought of him as a hard to understand person. Additionally, the brothers didn’t have any good news to give, and Katsya had been wearied with bad news recently; it was hard to think they would be treated well.

“Yepnen . . . can’t we just not go anywhere?”

Yepnen did not seem to think Boris would say that. He stuttered a bit, before talking.

“Why so? Because you think they won’t like us?”

“That too, but . . . instead of asking for foreign people to take us in, couldn’t we pretend to be a peasant for a while? And, and, isn’t Father going to contact us soon? It’s going to be only a short time, and …”

His older brother looked depressed, or heavy-hearted, looking down at Boris. He seemed to want to not answer, if he could.

“Boris. That kind of life . . . both you and I have always lived in a mansion, helped by servants and maids. It’ll be hard for us to live like peasants. I don’t have a lot of money. You’re too young to understand, yet. The life of a poor peasant is full of hardships. Since Blado has the mansion, he can’t come after us for a while, but as long as we have the Winterbottom kit, he’ll come after us. Of course, there are other dangers, too.”

Boris was listening to his brother’s words, but did not seem realize the severeness of the situation. He had his reliable older brother. What would he fear? Especially since Father should soon rejoin them.

“I’m fine with that. It’s only a while. If I can’t endure that short ordeal, Father will probably tell me I’m not worthy of the Jinneman name.”

Boris smiled care-freely. He wanted to reassure Brother; he didn’t want to be a burden.

Yepnen could only say,

“Maybe will be the same wherever we go. Let’s get to the closest town, first. After that, let’s decide where to go next.”

They found the town after the sun went down.

On the way here, the two had taken inventory of their entire wealth. Yepnen’s two pieces of equipment, the Winterbottom kit was obviously out of consideration. They were things that must be protected. Yepnen detached a small leather pouch from his belt, and showed the prepared gold coins inside, before he had escaped from the mansion. There were ten or so large 100 elso coins used in Anomarad, and 30 100 goblun coins, which had approximately half that value. All together, they should be enough to live by for a month. Finally, there were valuable goods. Being men, they didn’t have much in the way of expensive jewelry. Yepnen had a sapphire-embedded palm-sized hand mirror, with a lid. It was their inheritance from their mother. Boris had nothing. All that was in his pocket was a dried, shriveled-up piece of bread. The two ate it between themselves on the way.

Due to being ignorant on the topic of geography, neither of them knew the name of the town. In all actuality, they didn’t care, either. Boris felt slightly excited, like he was on a new adventure. The town was not small. Though they had crossed through the plain, a road was visible from afar. The two did not tell the town guard who they were, nor did they inform them of their name or status. The only ‘flourishing street’ they had seen was the Caznan City’s market street, in Longourd. The sound of the crowd here was almost as loud as Caznan’s. This street was a place where people lived.

Boris tried not to look like a ‘bumpkin’, but he was failing at that.

“Excuse me. Do you know where the inn is?”

The building Yepnen had found about from the street merchant was a steep-roofed, two-story structure. Travelers with horses, or multiple-headed carriages, were blocking the entrance. Getting into the inn was a minor ordeal in itself. The brothers were quite the humble traveler, having shared a single horse all the way here.

“Welcome! How may I help you?”

The big voice made Boris jump, but it was directed not at them but at the four or five adventurers who had just entered the inn. With loud steps, they quickly cut in front of the brothers and asked for two rooms while endlessly talking about something between themselves.

“Yepnen, are this inn’s rates expensive?”

Funnily, Yepnen didn’t know either. Though he had traveled before, the inns he had been in were much more better ones than this; additionally, he always had traveled with servants, meaning he never paid himself before. The Jinnemans were traditionally a warrior house, and thus thought of touching money as rather vulgar.

“One… room, please.”

The woman at the counter didn’t even quote a price, and plucked a key from a whole rack of them. Yepnen only had gold pieces, and he hesitated. He was, indeed, unfamiliar with monetary matters. The woman looked at Yepnen sideways, which he could only interpret as asking why he did not pay.

“How much does it cost?”

Her lips twitched as she forced a smile, before saying it was ten elsos. Yepnen showed a single goblun coin, which had the value of 50 elsos.

“My, you have a lot of money for such a young man.”

The woman made change in silver coins. Yepnen collected them, before turning to go, when the woman called,

“Aren’t you having supper? What about tomorrow morning?”

She was stifling a derisive giggle. Yepnen paid a couple more coins. He turned again, when she asked again in a obviously mocking way,

“Shouldn’t you at least choose your menu, fine sir?”

He had only eaten what their servants prepared for them back at home. Yepnen did not know what he was supposed to order in a place like this. He tried hard not to flush, as he retorted,

“Anything adequate will do.”

“Aah- I thought you were some picky rich gent who couldn’t tolerate just any food~”

The bustling errandmen who were nearby started chuckling, too. It wasn’t much of a funny situation, though. They seemed to be laughing to mock.

Yepnen was now irked, but didn’t respond, and stalked towards a table. Boris took note of the situation by glancing at Yepnen’s face, but thought it was a time to be silent. The food came at promptly. The situation was worse.

“This should be ‘adequate’ for you, nay?”

The boy who brought it was about Yepnen’s age. He commented cynically, before setting down two wide bowls in front of them. Boris looked in.

At first glanced, it seemed to be some stew or soup. Boris spotted something moving inside it and pushed his chair back, startled. As soon as the sound of the chair on the floor was heard, a number of men started guffawing behind him.

Yepnen quietly looked in his bowl. Ten, twenty… white maggots the size of one of his little finger joints were squirming in the thin stew. It was enough to make one feel like emptying one’s stomach.

“Oi, pick up your spoon! We gave you the specialty here, shouldn’t you take at least a taste?”

“Not hungry? You shouldn’t waste food, especially in these harsh times!”

“Our young master doesn’t know how to eat? Shall I spoon it for you?”

Boris raised his head to see the number of people standing around the inn chatting all laughing at them. He did not understand. What did they do wrong to deserve this? Some kind of old hatred? Boris didn’t even know the faces of anyone there . . .

Yepnen slowly stood.

He didn’t lay a hand on Winterer. His blue eyes scowled at the mockers. Some of the people who’s eyes met with him shrunk for a bit from the rage in Yepnen’s, but most of them weren’t afraid.

He finally spoke.

“Someone, please demonstrate how to eat this meal.”

As no-one answered, Yepnen continued.

“As in, taking a spoonful yourself.”

Now less rowdy then before, one of the men spoke through chuckling,

“Sorry, but I don’t think I’m hungry enough to eat someone else’s.”

That man promptly failed to believe his eyes. In a flash, Yepnen’s hands grabbed him and forcibly sat him on the chair. His jaw knocked the wood.

“Guh… what the hell?”

Yepnen kept his voice grave.

“I propose an invitation to this table. Eat. There is no reason to decline.”

“Grr…”

Yepnen pressed on the man’s neck, making it impossible to remove his chin from the table, and picked up the spoon. The bystanders’ eyes widened. Yepnen buried his spoon in the bug-infested stew.

“Au… no…”

The man did not seem to have expected such a small-boned teenager with a pretty face to be this strong.  It was only a single hand, but it effectively prevented him from straightening up. Yepnen slowly scooped soup from the bowl and brought it to the man’s lips. There were three bugs wriggling in it.

“Mer, mercy! I was wrong! I repent!”

Despite that man’s cowardly cries, the spoon approached his mouth. The man sweated profusely and clenched his lips, but he wasn’t able to shake his head in protest. The maggots squirmed right in front of his nose.

“Brother!”

Almost at the same time as Boris yelled, Yepnen’s spoon halted. The many patrons of the inn were all silent. Only Yepnen’s voice could be heard.

“Be thankful that I am not ironhearted enough to shove that spoon into your mouth.”

He dropped the spoon back in the bowl, and simultaneously let go of the man’s neck. Even if Boris hadn’t shouted, he wasn’t the kind of person who could actually do that. He also wasn’t a person to hide the fact that he couldn’t do that, either. The man stumbled away, retreated hastily. He angrily rubbed his neck, and traded glances with a number of men around him. Some nodded, and the situation was reversed.

“Get’m!”

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

2561 words.

Sorry for the week long absence xD At least I’ve got a single longish post for you all > .>

The next installment should be the other half of this chapter.

]]> https://cotrt.wordpress.com/2012/03/31/book-1-the-winter-sword-part-2-parting-chapter-1-the-first-supper-1/feed/ 4 101 psispin https://cotrt.wordpress.com/2012/03/20/book-1-the-winter-sword-part-1-bleeding-chapter-4-again-lost-3/ https://cotrt.wordpress.com/2012/03/20/book-1-the-winter-sword-part-1-bleeding-chapter-4-again-lost-3/#comments Mon, 19 Mar 2012 22:10:50 +0000 http://cotrt.wordpress.com/?p=87 =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

“Now is the time. Proceed.”

Tulk’s voice didn’t quaver, nor was it excited. His deep and dry voice was the exact same as if he had just told them to go to bed after a long day, late at night.

Yepnen stared at him. His chin slightly trembled. He could not ever get used to him. Now, there was no time left to try. Just then, a bright light lit up the night sky around them. The significance was not lost on them.

“Luck.”

“I’m not going to leave.”

That, at least, caused Tulk’s impassive face to change. He did not bother to argue, and shook his head.

“Go. If you respect your father, and his reasons.”

“If Father has his reasons, so do I. To me, a petty sword and armor is worthless compared to the existence of my father.”

Eulken’s head moved minutely. His sight was already on his son. They glared at each other.

“. . .”

To his mute father, Yepnen spoke.

“Whatever you say, it will not change my decision.”

Tulk still had the ability to read what was on his master’s mind by sight. He growled,

“Do not pledge yourself to a hopeless cause.”

“Father, did not you also pledge yourself to such a cause? I mean Candidate Katsya.”

Yepnen looked straight at his father, like Tulk was just a translator.

“The Jinneman house isn’t a house that produced sons who gave up what they believe just because it was hopeless, no? Aren’t treasures, great weapons, most useful in times of darkness? Are they not kept so to be used in times like this?”

Nobody spoke for some time. Boris looked at first the burning eyes of Father, then the determined ones of Yepnen. He was a child, and he could not participate there. He did understand in a way the conflict between the two.

Yepnen addressed Boris without looking away from Eulken.

“Boris,”

Boris stepped closer to Yepnen. His hand grasped his wrist.

“You know that… right?”

“I…”

Boris wanted to say that he was also a Jinneman man who did not bend his will. He wanted to say that he valued his brother as much as his brother valued Father. That he did not have any desire to live in a world without Father and Yepnen, too.

But none of that became words. His lips were firmly glued together by the heavy atmosphere.

“At least, we can choose to die together. Let’s think of that as a honorable end, Boris.”

Boris knew well that those words were different from Yepnen’s usual thoughts. He would not have said them if he had doubt in their fate. The Yepnen Boris knew was someone who never said things like that if they had a chance to survive. Right now, Yepnen was probably out of ideas.

Yepnen did not continue, and looked down at Boris for a while. He then forced a smile, like he was trying to reassure him.

Boris suddenly was aware that his brother’s eyes were blue. It was quite a familiar color. Was it because he always had seen i?

No…

Boris then realized what was making him feel uneasy, the feeling he had felt from this morning, rolling around in the hills; Yepnen’s smile. He thought it was a bit different than usual. It was…

It was the smile of his mother in the portrait.

“Let us . . .depart.”

Yepnen muttered, feeling his blood boil, and stood up. Tulk silently helped Eulken get to a standing position. His next words were a surprise, when Yepnen had thought he wouldn’t speak to the end.

“Young masters, follow us two from behind. Don’t come to the front until you see me die.”

Yepnen was unable to say anything.

” . . . ”

7 years, was it? When he had first become the butler of the Jinnemans, Tulk was like a shadow. Something that stayed behind after the actual thing passed. To be precise, Tulk was nothing more or less than Father’s shadow.

He was someone who helped Father’s will be carried out, or carry it out for him. Shadows don’t have emotions. Likewise, he didn’t have any, either. His unannounced vow to die for Father, and for Yepnen and his little brother did not feel like his motive was because of friendliness.

He was not understandable.

“There they are!”

A shout was heard. However, the many screams that followed buried it. They approached the swamp with no time to check the situation.

Shuu… boom.

Flashing lights and earth-shaking explosions continued one after another. Yepnen felt that something was out of place.

The just used spells were all powerful and dangerous. They were not the kind to be used on an injured man and three others. This most certainly meant Blado was preparing to fight the other enemy in this place.

He would see it soon, too.

Blado swept aside his soldiers, eyes red. In fact, he did not need to sweep them aside. The soldiers were already panicked; they ignored orders and attempted to run, scattering every which way.

The only reason Blado was able to keep his calm right in front of the dreaded swamp was because he knew exactly what would appear.

He was afraid, though. He just knew that he could look straight at the thing. At the red eyes of the ghost, who had taken away the angelic Yeni.

Tulk looked down at Eulken’s face, in his arms. He had just arrived at the swamp. He smiled faintly, as if he were asking, are you prepared?

Eulken did not respond, still. His deep wounds made the simple act of opening his mouth hard, but he didn’t need to stay silent if he had wanted to say something. But Eulken kept his mouth shut and, supported by Tulk, straightened and drew his sword.

“Yes… finally…”

Emira Lake was something that eternally sank, like a vast hell. The fence of wet shrubbery, and slowly decomposing trees tried to conceal it in vain. Eulken slowly stepped into the unconquerable  interior of the lake. The horrid smell of the end of life wafted into his nose. Corpses, a lake of rotten corpses.

At first he called with a tiny voice. He called,

“Yeni…”

Where does one throw away a rotten corpse? Its claws rake one’s mind and body simultaneously. Once marked, it is the end. A soul captured by a ghost, to be sent to a place of no consolation. . .

When they had dropped Yeni’s corpse all the way in the swamp, both Eulken and Blado did not come see it.

On the other side, a lower, yet more clear voice called out,

“Yeni!”

Perhaps, the two brothers did not want to fight each other themselves. It was too late to forgive and be forgived, now. Even Yeni’s good soul would probably have decayed into an evil ghost. She would never forgive. Never, never! It was now time to settle their debts between the two!

Eulken drew strength from some unknown force rising in him, grasped his sword, and walked into the black forest around the swamp. The screams of soldiers dying was heard nonstop. The single call of Blado wasn’t heard again.

“A,a,aaaaaaack!”

“Mercy, please…!”

Emira Lake, or rather Emira Swamp was halfway filled with dirty animal waste, which slowly floated up from the bottom of it. The culprit was the many corpses disposed of in there. It was the secret of Longourd that some knew, and others would never be privy to. The lake’s mission was to rot cold flesh into compost. It was used in that way for one year, a decade, twenty years…

Now, it is impossible to think that Emira Lake had its namesake in the clear, emerald color of its water.

“What caused the lake to rot, is the resentment of the unjustly killed.”

The brothers finally stood where they could raise their defenses against each other. It was the second time Eulken heard Blado’s voice tonight.

“So, shall we search for Yeni’s golden hair in that mess of bodies?”

Tulk cast a protective sphere spell and protected Eulken’s body. Looking at his older brother, surrounded by a semi-transparent film, and the severe wound he was ailing from, Blado showed his teeth in a grin.

“First, should we destroy the unjustly killeds’ corpses together?”

Jongnal was behind Blado. He was burning the approaching corpses and swamp monsters with fire orbs in his hands. The type of monsters Boris had met exploded into dirty liquid when they met with the flames.

“Or should we gauge the depths of our mutual hate towards each other, until the red-eyed monster appears?”

Blado flicked Hagrune’s black blade in a half-circle, then assumed a pose that suggested he would stab Eulken at any time. He was very self-assured.

The soldiers were almost gone now, all deserted. Only the upper halfs of bodies poked out from the swamp, watching the brothers with their empty eye sockets. Eulken’s sword shivered, then became still again.

Yepnen felt a chill that was like a burst of heat when he saw the green mud and rotten bodies that filled up the lake. He also saw the panicked soldiers running every which way, and not caring about him in the least. Finally, he saw his father draw his sword against the leering Blado.

The tension in the air seemed like it was about to snap, but a single being was missing. So, when will it be? When will the red-eyed monster, who eats corpses and gains power, appear?

Boris stood back-to-back with Yepnen, and he knew that he could do nothing. The only good he could probably do was stand behind his brother, and get hit by the first attack instead of Yepnen. Boris wholeheartedly started concentrating on that ‘duty’. Like Father, Boris also thought that Yepnen was the person who should survive until the end, for the family. He glanced at Yepnen. His hands were shuddering, he was grasping Winterer’s hilt so hard. Boris noticed something Yepnen didn’t: the silvery sheen of Snowguard slowly brightened. Did something approach?

The wind hissed and cried. It sounded like a huge snake, rubbing its scales on the grass as it went by. The sound of Boris’s voice started,

“Yepnen, Snowguard…”

Its light was now strong enough to impede part of one’s sight. Bright rays  were emitted, and Yepnen’s sword sparkled white. Yepnen perceived what was happening. The armor had noticed the scent of death. Snowguard had realized the approaching one before anyone else.

Ggggggggggggggg…

Was that some sound? No, no … yes, it was a sound. That was  the only way it could be presented. Over the dark, something was coming.

It had red eyes, and was wreathed in black flames. . .

Boris heard a eerie voice, not with his ears, but directly in his mind. He froze on the spot. He could not move a step. Even though the coming voice was accompanied by something else.

‘You’re quite a pretty child, aren’t you. Heh, heh, heh.’

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Save – 첫 저녁

End of chapter 4, and the end of Part 1.

Part 2 is called… ‘Parting’. (In fact, it’s called ‘parting’ in the original version, too.) Chapter 1 of Parting is named, ‘The First Supper’.

1860 words in this update! Now, I wonder when I’ll be able to muster up the power to translate the next chapter >_<

As an offering thing (?), I’m attempting to translate the rest of this chapter in one post. I think I’ll be done by tomorrow.

For curiosity’s sake, this is how far I’m at!

Notice the tiny scroll bar at the right edge. That much, out of seven books that are equally the same length. Loooooooong way to go…

**Disclaimer – I actually do have all seven of Winterer, but I use a text file version, mainly because it is easier to use in translating.

“We’re almost there, sir!”

Blado held up his hand and made his soldiers stop. They then stood in a half-circle, away from the way they came. The soldiers started spreading out, holding their swords and spears and beating the brush. The ones with bows had them drawn, waiting with shining eyes for a target to present itself…

I will kill Older Brother. For whoever, it did not matter. It turned out Brother had been one who lived his life in humiliation. It did not matter. Kill his brother, he will.

“This way! I see footprints!”

Because Emira Lake was a swamp for very long, the surrounding areas were muddy. Most people couldn’t help but leave tracks, but if Brother was here, so was Tulk. And Tulk would never tolerate being so sloppy as to leave prints. Therefore, it followed that the two young brothers were here.

“Tighten the circle!”

Yepnen and Boris were the only two nephews of Blado. He did not have a wife. Blado thought that if only one of them were a girl, and if she had the slightest resemblance to Yetsnika, he would reconsider this attack. But they were nephew to Blado, and did not look like her in the slightest. Yeni had a golden blond hair; the nephews did not. They didn’t have Yeni’s hair, Yeni’s eyes… Yeni’s nothing.

Blado did not have any love nor pity on the two. Blado’s crow’s feet, bordering his yellow eyes, trembled as to express his emotions. He promised inwardly to make them scream and run, to block his ears and follow… to kill them, and make Eulken reveal himself!

Due to the lake’s southern banks being such a mire, his soldiers surrounded the lake from the north, east and west. Soon, the lake’s actual waters could be seen. The dead trees entwined themselves blackly, or sometimes white; they seemed to be pretending to be alive. Many things had died here, and many things will die here, in this lake, where whitish, oily animal’s fat floated.

It was the lake of his memories. To gaze upon the place he approached, and perhaps to carve perfectly into his mind an impression of a place he would not return ever again, he asked for lighting from his mage.

Flash–

Day-like brightness formed like the lake had spat out a ball of fire. One could even see tiny mayfly-like creatures wander 20 meters away in the bushes. Blado, and a couple hundred other pairs of eyes tried to pry the shape of something that might be hiding there.

“I shall bestow the one who finds them first one thousand elsos!”

The shout did not take long to come. However, it was slightly different than the type of sound Blado wanted to hear. It wasn’t one person only, either.

This time, many screams rent the air.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Sorry, was busy >_<

473 words!

Also, it seems my font came back! Yay!

Save – “자, 지금입니다

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

It seems that Brother was not an idiot.

That thought twisted his frown into a smile. Blado thought he knew Eulken, yet also acknowledged that he also did not know a lot of him. It was rather… surprising, when he kept the decline of the Jinnemans at bay for so long. He was strong. In fact, the chances were that it wasn’t even Eulken’s fault. The House that the Jinnemans served, the Kastya house, had become a sinking star and dragged down the Jinnemans with it. A failing house was incapable of righting itself unless the higher-ranked house it served boomed.

The ‘strong‘ Blado just used meant that even though the outlook was dark, Eulken did not change loyalty. Betrayal, and subsequent panhandling to another House was very frowned upon. No other example was needed apart from himself: he had to endure many insults, make dirty trades, all because of the fact that he had served another Candidate before changing over to Kan. Looking back, Blado almost thought it wasn’t worth it, that it would have been better if he just stuck to his slowly setting family; it was that painful.

However, seeing the current state of the Jinneman house… how strong would the temptation to change the subject of one’s loyalty, and live again. To sell one’s soul, to retread a gone path.

But Brother endured. Unchanging. That was why he couldn’t underestimate him.

“Emera Lake’s banks…”

Riding with a few hundred other soldiers, the words that quietly circled in his mouth before falling away reminded him of something terrible. A cold chill colored his lips before fading.

The place he was heading to was the place that was feared for many years in Longourd, where the Jinneman house lived. It was also a forbidden place to the brothers. Blado could almost see the sight of the pretty and sweet Yetsnika, her eyes turning red, her ripping her cloths and rampaging, crazy…

Blado shuddered in reflex. His sister had died young, she could not grow anymore … Old he was now, and he was not anymore the younger older brother that sneaked up and teased her, covering her eyes, not anymore was he ugly and weak,the childish brother.

Even when the two brothers were young, they fought a lot, be it small or large. The only thing they had in common was the love they felt for their little sister, Yetsnika. She was a golden eyed girl who loved reed flowers and birds’ feathers; she was the mischievous little sister that fell asleep hiding in a wardrobe from her two brothers… and she grew into a young woman, fresh as a green apple.

That point was when the two could no longer tolerate each other. She had wandered around Emira Lake, tricked by the younger brother into believing her fiancee was there. She was killed by the elder. She was a flower that never got the chance to bloom. She died before she could have her own baby. She always wanted to have one.

‘It is your fault.’

If she could come back from the grave, Blado wondered, who would she proclaim guilty?

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

I’m not sure if Yetsnika actually came up until now… Did I spell it right? O_o… Did I even use that name before…?

549 words.

Save – 거의 다 왔습니다!

“He is wounded.”

“Didn’t you use cure spells?”

Of course Yepnen did not understand. He knew that Tulk was an expert in healing and other secondary spells to the degree that he did not have any attacking ones. He shook his head with little expression.

“It was of no use.”

Boris slowly walked towards Eulken. Heavily leaning on Tulk, he did not say a word, and looked between his two sons. His face hardened.

Tulk spoke for him.

“Why did you not leave first, sir?”

“. . . ”

Yepnen did not respond, and just bit his lips. He knew better than anyone that explaining would not work. He lowered his eyes to the floor and glanced at Boris.

Tulk looked down at Eulken, then said again as if he knew what Eulken wanted to ask.

“Where there any abnormal events while you were here?”

“I got attacked by a strange beast. But Yepnen killed it. With Winterer.”

Boris was the one who spoke up. He knew that Yepnen was taking all the blame and hastily tried to tell them of the good.

“If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have been alive.”

Tulk peered at the slime, and the corpse that resembled shreds of a leather pouch behind the brother.

“Is it that thing?”

Tulk did not seem to care about the beast much. He asked again,

“Other than that, was there anything amiss? Such as maybe a spell.”

Yepnen said,

“Just now, we saw some bright light come from the mansion. It disappeared really quick.”

He did not realize the importance of the words he just said. The usually impassive Tulk paled. He hurriedly asked him,

“What is it, Tulk? Something horrid?”

Unconsciously, Yepnen was tugging at Boris’s hand. Tulk looked again at Eulken. He then addressed not the brothers, but the father.

“If I am right, I believe one of ‘Quere’s Eye’ spells have been cast. If it is Jongnal, chances are he will be able to manage ‘Quere’s Eighty Eyes’ with little trouble. According to the young master, they had seen the flash of light. Therefore, their positions have already been compromised. You and I have been in transit while the spell happened, so it is unsure where our positions were pinpointed at.”

Even Boris understood now. Yepnen again bit his lip and asked,

“What do we do now?”

Just then, Tulk set Eulken down and again cast a curing spell. He murmured two runes, and did not need to use any other intricate methods.

When Tulk’s answer came back, the eyes of Boris were wide like he was trying to see the minuscule water drops in the cooled air.

“We must pray for luck.”

Yepnen heard the actual meaning behind those words. They were hopeless.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Chapter 3 done. Chapter 4 is Again, Lost. Expect it to be up shortly. As in, less than 5 hours kind of shortly :3

Save – 역시 형은 바

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

“Lost!”

The chaos around the mansion was being reined in, in a way that was not good to Eulken’s Jinneman house. The commander-less house’s soldiers were being killed by the invaders’, and now there was only a hundred or so left.

“What, you didn’t find them?”

Blado Jinneman had called the wizard Jongnal and ordered him to send the signal to the vanguards he had stationed all around the border of the territory. The mage of Kan, Jongnal was participating in this fight only because he was ordered to. He did not like Blado much. To be truthful, he didn’t not like Blado much either.

He thought that he was not actually being ordered by Blado. Since he was a archmage who commanded all the other mages of Kan, he was bound to follow the orders of Candidate Kan. Right now, following orders meant doing as Blado told him to. The vanguard moved and started cutting off all exits. A long time passed, but no-one reported the sighting of Eulken Jinneman and the mage Tulk. It was merely a teleport, and thus they could not have gone far. Even if they had used some invisibility spell, the guard had a couple bags each of ‘Hinten’s Power’, which stuck to any object that had magic on it, meaning it was most probable that they would be found.

Blado was furious, but Jongnal was even more so. He was being ordered around by some lower ranked person, and on top of that was deemed useless. When Blado turned on Jongnal after listening to the vanguard’s reports, the wizard felt a deep rising of some emotion and coldly said,

“Leave it to me. I’ll use ‘Quere’s Eighty Eyes” for you.”

Jongnal said it in a tone that implied, ‘Be thankful I am using such a powerful spell for your pitifully insignificant ends’, and Blado understood. Instead of being angry, though, he smiled and said,

“Thank you very much. I appreciate it.”

Simple, lower-powered spells had short names, not the least because of their ancient origins. However, specialized, more powerful spells usually had the name of their inventor. Dagnnes Quere was one of those inventors of spells, who spent his life researching magic that expanded one’s sight, or scry on hidden objects. The spell, ‘Eighty Eyes’ was his second most powerful spell. It was capable of finding a needle in a haystack that was ten kilometers away, a venerable precision.

While Jongnal was preparing the spell, Blado and Kan’s army executed the remaining soldiers, except for the dead ones and the deserted ones.

The magic circle and its runes were finished with a moonlight-fed chalk. The circle was very large: It had a radius of two meters, and tens of runes, other circles, and incantations were written inside.

Jongnal sat on the triangle in the middle of the circle and slowly started to cast the spell, assuming the various hand positions and somatic components. The soldiers were already off to one side so that they wouldn’t interfere, but as it was the first time seeing such a high-ranked wizard casting such a power spell, their eyes were fixed on Jongnal in curiosity.

One, draw a circle in the air parallel to the ground, and touch the floor.

Two, intone three short words and touch palm to palm.

Three, slowly raise the two hands and separate them.

With each motion, the chalk runes sparked. With a snapping sound, the powerfully scribed runes started burning, and a eye shape was revealed. Jongnal’s eyelids seem to be tinged yellow. The final hand gesture, he covered his eyes with his hands and thrust the hands away. A great ring of light was formed and spread out like a wave. The light crossed the boundaries of the circle and passed through the soldiers, over the hills, and disappeared.

Boris and Yepnen experienced a sudden flash of light, something fast. Before they could feel anything, it disappeared, and they couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

But what happened next was something they could understand. The air in front of them shimmered like water, and a man appeared. It was like he had walked out of a mirror. It was two people. Yepnen shouted first,

“Father!”

He then called out again in a slightly different tone.

“What… happened?”

Eulken was barely hanging on to consciousness, but his body was already a wreck. Tulk had used curing spells a number of times; little help was it. The sword Blado had used to stab Eulken, Hagrune, the blade of black, had a magical property that prohibited wounds from healing easily. It was the reason Hagrune, with its less-than-sharp blade, was treated as one of the finest blades in the world.

Tulk was the mage of the Jinnemans, but he also doubled as a butler. He did not talk much with the two brothers and was overall a dark and gloomy persona. He went over everything only with his master, Eulken. With a quick nod of his head, he told Yepnen,

“He is wounded.”

=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Save : 회복 마법을 쓰

Mordenkainen’s Disjunction, anyone? ;3

856 words!