Private Tales On The Road

[Bernard]

Bernard blinked, giving the man an odd look. Having come from Arillia, there were certainly people that were better then him, and others he was better than by the very virtue of it.

"It's only natural," he told the man. "Some are just born above you. Some under. Sometimes you can work your way to the top, sometimes you just..." He flailed around himself, shrugging. "Are. It's just life."

 

[Thren]

Thren stopped, his stare piercing through Bernard as he began to speak. His tone was stern, level. "No one is born above anyone else."

The Barbarian seemed as though he was about to rage about the issue. It was one that sat at the very core of The Siruk. His people did not have Kings, no nobles, emperors, or even Chieftains. Everyone was equal, leaders were made by merit, they were chosen by the community and selected as a whole. That was how it was, how it had always been among his people.

No one was better than anyone else.

"You are as much a man as any King." He stared at Bernard. "No matter the wealth. No matter the power they hold. They are no different than you or I."

He pointed between them as he did so. "Even a slave is still a man."

It was a core principal of the Siruk.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard blinked again, taken aback by the rare intensity of the man. "....Yeees.. but..." he continued carefully. "Wouldn't you argue that one man's life is worth less than a kings?" he hedged carefully. "I mean, that's why there's armies, isn't? All those lives in exchange for one man's ideals, that's like... a big deal.I'm no king, I don't have that worth."

 

[Thren]

"No man's life is worth less than another's." Didn't matter what they called themselves, didn't matter which title they were praised with.

There were those worth following, there were causes that could be fought for, but one man was not worth more than any other. In the eyes of the Siruk a King should be just as willing to die as those in his army. If that was not true then that man was not worth of being called a King.

That was just how it was.

Nobility did not matter, titles did not matter. The make of the man, or the woman, was what mattered.

"If you're willing to die for an ideal then it should be your own." Thren said simply. "Whether it comes from a King is your choice."

That was that.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard continued to frown at him, taking this in. The boy wasn't aware of how much he listened to the man, he absorbed Thren's words without noticing he did so. He hadn't had a true male figure in his life, and certainly not one that would talk to him about things like this.

He took Thren's perspective and weighed it heavily in his mind, trying to contort his views to find truths and match it. He tilted his head.

"What do you find worth dying for then? Anything at all?"

 

[Thren]

"My tribe, my people." He shrugged. "Whatever Contract I've devoted myself to."

Which was technically like saying he thought his own honor was worth dying for. He'd explained the concept earlier, the idea of honor being a personal responsibility and not something that others could judge you for. He frowned for a moment, glancing at Bernard.

"Never a single man though." Another shrug rolled over his shoulders, as if he didn't actually really understand why.

Perhaps it was more difficult for the Siruk to believe in any one mans cause. They were a notoriously cynical people, and more often than not they didn't just go charging into the bleakness.

Not unless there was money involved.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard considered this, a slight lilt entering grin. "Not even a... single woman?" He leveled, his tone thick with implication. He glanced at Thren, eyes alight.

 

[Thren]

"Not really." Thren shrugged. "Though I've met a few worth following I suppose."

The Amazon in Minaris, though her goals were not his own. Following somebody else's dreams just seemed so...well wrong. Thren could not really have explained it any better than he already had, and if Bernard didn't understand it at this point there was no way he could help him.

Then again he was starting to doubt that anyone could.

"Follow your own goals, not that of some fools." The Barbarian finally concluded, shrugging his shoulders and glancing over towards the carts.

Seemed everyone was getting ready to move again.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard saw the logic in Thren's words, even if he... didn't exactly know what he'd do with it yet. He rubbed at his temple, his head hurting as he was sure he was straining his brain by thinking too hard.

"Not even for a girl?" He mumbled to himself, shaking out his head and glancing his way over at Mia. He sighed blithely, starting to realize she really wasn't falling for him.

Dammit.

He picked up the cues of the others and started towards the carts, feeling lighter on his feet each day that passed without another attack.

"What do you think you'll do once we get done with this?" He asked casually.

 

[Thren]

The Caravan began moving once more as they reached the cart, one of the women tossing him a loaf of bread that was by now more rock than actual bread. He thanked her quietly, and then turned back to Bernard as they walked.

"Find another contract." Thren said with a shrug.

The life of a Siruk was not a complicated one. They were a mercenary people, it wasn't just their job, but most of their lives. Even if they were ell off financially...they tended to work no matter what. It was just how their society functioned, how they actually worked day to day.

"That's what I do." The Barbarian told Bernard. "I'm a mercenary."

He made it sound obvious.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard offered his new knife to Thren as he was wielded that rock of a loaf, his eyes hungry.

"Yeah. But what about all that money? You got the oldest stuff on you, what do you even do with it all?" He asked, unabashedly curious about subjects that were just not right of him to ask. Sure, the two had grown friendly with each other, but there were still lines. And Bernard charged right through them, lacking in some of that finer etiquette he should have been taught but never was.

 

[Thren]

"Most of the money I make goes back to the tribe." Thren didn't seem to be at all bothered talking about this sort of thing.

It was his culture after all, there was nothing to be ashamed of.

"There are few of us now." The Barbarian continued to explain. "Most gold goes towards raising our young and ensuring trade between our camps and the Dwarves."

Money always made things easier, and traveling up and down the Spine could be difficult. More than once the Siruk had taken refuge in a Dwarf hold. They had always paid for it, and relations between his people and the stout folk were better than most would guess.

An advantage of that gold he and others sent home.

 

[Bernard]

"You send it home? Really? Why not just send the children away? You wouldn't need half as much coin. I bet the city would be better for them then the mountains, too," he commented, taking the bread and awkwardly hacking at it against himself as they walked.

This left-handed thing was growing old fast. He got a chunk off and grabbed it in his mouth, offering the other half to Thren as he struggled to walk and keep it all in his hands.

 

[Thren]

He perked an eyebrow. "In the city they would end up with oversized swords and broken hands."

Thren said simply, reminding Bernard of the state he'd been in at the beginning of this journey.

"The Siruk raise our children to be strong." The Barbarian said as he grabbed the piece of bread and began to chew on it. As he spoke some of it was tossed from his lips, though he didn't particularly seem to care about that small bit of etiquette. "We are warriors, have been for thousands of years."

He rolled his shoulders. "Always will be."

People from the city were weak. Didn't matter which one, Elbion, Alliria, or even Vel Anir. None of them could ever truly understand.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard pulled back a little, making a face. Ouch.

"...Sounds like you think I'm weak." He said with a slight edge to his tone. Hurt.

Which was not helping his weak case.

 

[Thren]

"Don't take too much offense lad." Thren said, his voice about as calm as could be. "I'd call a Knight of Vel Anir weak."

He had in the past in fact. It had not been taken well. "If it makes you feel any better, there's different kinds of strength."

Thren could at the very least acknowledge that.

He had more than once had it pointed out that soldiering was not necessarily for everyone, and that strength of courage was just as important as endurance. In his youth he'd denied such things, but he'd seen a lot since then.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard snorted. "That sounded an awful lot like a pat on the head," he grumped, not so much insulted as bothered by the man's statement.

He abruptly turned on Thren and jabbed him lightly in the gut, a playful grin about him as he danced backwards and tried to do that light on his feet thing Thren taught him.

"How about I challenge you on that, hey, old man?" Two more jab attempts were made with his left hand, his right kept out of the fight.

 

[Thren]

Bernard would, of course, strike armor.

It was a lucky thing that the boy didn't actually punch all that hard, otherwise he would have broken his other hand along with the first. Still, the Barbarian didn't lash out like he could have, mostly because he didn't want to physically harm the boy more than he already had.

"We'll try a contest of strength when you have your other hand back." He said plainly as he finally caught Bernard's wrist.

"For now." He glanced at his other hand. "Let's not risk more broken bones."

Not until they passed the next ambush anyway.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard managed quite the melodramatic huff, dropping his hands and walking back besides the man.

"You're just afraid I'll win," he quibbled, moving his head sassily as-

An arrow struck by a mere inch from his nose, shutting him up.

Several more thudded into wood and bodies alike, that long braced for ambush finally come.

 

[Thren]

Screams echoed through the camp in an instant, Larik barked, chaos erupted once more.

Thren had thought they would be more prepared, had thought that after his warnings they would have made a plan or something. Yet as soon as that first arrow hit, as soon as combat broke out...they all began to panic once more. Women ran all over the place, men followed trying to desperately protect.

He cursed. "Gather who you can."

An arrow sailed down from on high, striking his armor. The point of it shattered, breaking into a hundred tiny pieces and falling to the ground.

The Barbarian cursed again, drawing one of his daggers and pulling Bernard behind one of the carts for cover.

 

[Bernard]

Unlike the first time, Bernard did not linger in shock. He pulled out the long knife with his left hand and stood crouched, eyes skimming the choas for a face he could help.

He saw her in the distance, a sudden bandit launching forward to try and gut her cart driver where he stood. Was it any surprise that's that where he ran to? The boy ducked and darted through the protection of the carts, screaming a roar as he stabbed the bandit through the back.

And that's when all the others stepped out, mud and leaves smeared on their features.

Ambush.

 

[Thren]

Thren caught one of the men as he jumped from the bushes by the side of the worn road, his face smeared with mud and his body cloaked in green and drab brown.

His black dagger stabbed through the man's gut, slicing through it before he had any real chance of moving beyond where he stood. The Barbarian's expression never change, his face stoic and impassive even as he saw the wave of bandits rolling out from the woods ahead of them.

There were more this time, perhaps twice as many.

Too many. "Bernard!"

He shouted to the boy, watching as he bounded towards some woman. Larik barked, and Thren was forced to turn as one of the bandits rushed towards him. His blade bounced off metal plate, a look of surprise dawning on the attackers face. A second later he was met with a punch to the throat.

 

[Bernard]

They had talked about this. But even still, as the battle erupted, Bernard could not entertain the flickering thought of retreating. Even as they began to prove grossly outnumbered.

He launched forward with quick attacks, trying to slash and break down the bandits that stood in between him and her. She could reject him a thousands days, a thousand different times. The world would still stop an ache a little when he looked at her.

There would be no leaving her to die, and perhaps Thren might already be braced for that. And Bernard was abruptly braced for Thren leaving him.

It did not matter. He attempted to dart past a man with a twice twice his size, ducking under it's length.

 

[Thren]

Thren let out a curse as the young man ducked beneath him and darted forward, his head shaking.

What was the point of having a plan if you didn't follow through with it? The bandits outnumbered them, five to one, not just the soldiers, but quite literally everyone in the caravan. These men had a veritable army at their disposal, there was no fighting that, not now.

"Bernard!" He shouted after the boy again, cursing.

Quickly he glanced down at Larik. "Go after him."

The Dog let out a quick bark, and then rushed forward after the pipsqueak of a lad. His teeth were barred and a growl erupted from him, but he would protect the boy as he protected Thren. Meanwhile the Barbarian let out a curse and then quickly rushed over to another wagon.

It seemed he would do the gathering.

 

[Bernard]

Death rang true everywhere, no changes taken on being successful this time. The nobles of Vel Anir paid too well for that.

It wasn't until all seemed lost and Thren had no choice but to start his retreat that Bernard made it back. He tugged a single girl and an elderly woman with him, their bodies just as splatted with gore as Bernard was as he came limping over.

He looked up to Thren with wide eyes, horror plastered there. "There's too many."