[fieldbox= Close Encounter, gray, solid]
The once great samurai didn't jump at the sudden voice from behind the curtain, too preoccupied to care. He stared, sitting in his bed, at the black katana he once coveted. His other sword was lost to the cold wasteland this place was. This sword was now witness to another mass killing, a blood stain he could never wipe from his soul.
"Stranger" he spoke up,
"have you witnessed a sight so horrible it made you question your ideals, your country, your very being?"
Viule let the question hang, the weight of it increasing in his mind the more he considered answering it honestly. He glanced down at his aux who now stood still, its hungry grin no longer there.
"Questioning such things is not something that comes naturally to me," he hinted and evaded simultaneously,
"and I'm not sure how similar are our definitions of what horrible is. What I can say is, that you've probably come very close to death and when someone gets that close, they're more willing to reject all while they cry for life... or so I've read." Viule stepped forward under the curtain and into the room, knowing a man who spoke thus couldn't be normal. Even so, he lithely closed in on the bed and cordially extended his hand,
"Viule Vanukar, steward." If Aldus had taught him anything about normalcy, it was that polite niceties got you places.
"Tekeda Shingen," he shook Viule's hand only to cringe in pain afterword, lightly pressing on his bandaged ribs. With a grimace he shakily got to his feet and limped over to the sword, every little movement paining him. He sheathed the weapon, missing the opening a few times, and put it back up against the wall. He shuffled back to the bed and sat down with a thud, the action seeming to take all of his strength.
"Forgive my current condition, I have been out in the cold for quite sometime." This was easy to tell by the man's appearance. His hair long and unkempt, beard thick, eyes tired.
"Was there something you needed of me?"
Viule recalled Takeda's first question and his mind flew towards the sword. His heightened senses focused on Takeda's every move, suspicion crawling imperceptibly as Viule chose his words carefully,
"only that you count on me should you need help beyond what the elk farmers here can offer you. We're living in hard times aren't we? Horrors after horrors showing up in every nation... or so the rumors go. What horror were you pulled into, if you don't mind me asking?" Despite the man's pained movements Viule could pick up signs of a fighter in him, and a certain familiarity had Viule take care to hide his own.
"The Kaustir nocturne attack on the Kaikan Mountain Pass made things difficult for me here for example," he watched for any detail in Takeda's reaction,
"people didn't like nocturnes much after that, not that we're a terribly popular people to begin with."
The samurai tensed at the mention of the mountain pass. He paused for a while.
"I was one of the leaders in that attack, but I had no idea that Lut would... would kill in that sort of fashion." Takeda seemed to be back into his own little world, as if confessing to an invisible presence.
"There was no honor in it, there was no regard for the life he took, but all I could do was watch and listen to the screams of those poor people." His grip tightened.
"I should be dead for the sins I have committed, and for the lives I helped take." Every part of his body was tensed and angry.
"Lut and all of Kaustir will pay for what they have done!" he yelled. His frenzy only ended when he caught site of Viule's eyes, his body relaxed.
"I am sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused because of my nation's poor actions. I will take Lut's life by my own hand."
Viule turned away, as if to pretend to examine the room in solemnity. At the moment Takeda had no way of knowing Viule was everything Takeda was condemning. Nor was he aware that by confirming the nocturne’s suspicions, he’d essentially hired the ex-assassin to take on one more job - his life. A righteous Kaustrain soldier was a potential threat to Viule’s current way of life, and plans.
“You’ll need your health for that,” he turned with the sympathetic tone he’d once seen on one of the household maids.
“Mr. Shingen, you seem fit enough for a walk. It would do you good. If you don’t mind, I could show you part of the elk farm while I wait for my order?”
If Vanu had been at all visible since his first look into the room, he was visible no more. The hellhound’s eager and greedy eyes were wisely kept away from Takeda’s view.
"Yes my health... I have the fine people of this farm to thank for my life. Yes a walk would do me some good at this point. These people were kind enough to lend me what little clothes they had that would fit." he pointed to some warmer clothes that were left at the side of his bed.
"I will meet you outside, if you don't mind." the samurai smiled.
***
A few minutes later and Takeda was outside in much warmer clothes. He faced the open snow wastes and took a deep breath of cool air
"This place is much nicer than that blasted desert, one could get used to this." he spoke to Viule.
“Indeed,” he replied, his voice dark and ominous, and though his fist was already cutting through the cold air Viule knew he’d made a mistake. Crux and Aux’s eagerness to kill had bled through the single word and the ex-assassin’s precise aim to break the back of Takeda’s skull had been forewarned.
The hair of the swordsman's neck stood up, he turned to block the block the punch knocking it to the left. He grabbed hold of Viule's shoulder and pushed his away.
"What is this! Have you gone mad? I mean you no harm boy!" Takeda called out. He wouldn't draw his blade on an unarmed opponent, he had some honor left.
Without reply or delay a hidden kitchen knife blurred through Viule’s hand as it flew, once more aimed at Takeda’s skull. The nocturnes movements were too calculated and efficient for thought, they revealed the muscle memory of a specialized type of soldier. Almost as soon as the knife had left his fingers, Viule’s feet too sped forward for the continued attack.
The knife was big and heavy, mostly used to hack Elk apart, this allowed the swordsman enough time to quickly draw his blade and slash the knife out of the air. CLANG! When sword met the rusted metal of the knife it nearly cut it in two, would have if not for Takeda's injuries. He ran at the boy and swung at him, straight down the middle.
The darkness of the blade’s metal caught the nocturne’s interest and his aim to sidestep into a side attack was delayed. He was forced to evade at an awkward angle as Takeda’s swing fell down Viule’s shoulder. A few drops of blood splattered the white snow, a few others clung to the dark blade. From some distance Vanu’s hateful judgement was mirrored in its twelve red eyes. So many mistakes. It was embarrassing. He could not see his present skill because he kept comparing himself to his Kaustir days. The old him would have finished the job in the first attack. The old him wouldn’t have been cut. The old him would have manipulated his own blood to perfection, no drop of blood would now stain snow or metal. In his mind he was failing, and yet no ordinary soldier could have escaped Takeda’s blade while distracted and with only a minor cut to show for it. The nocturne began to circle his prey, his steps light and full of intent.
The samurai was careful to watch his attacker.
"The way you move, the way you disregard pain... Kaustir soldier?... No... your steps are too light... assassin." He charged Viule with a vertical slice downward.
"I will not be taken back to that dead country!"
Viule flinched with something like emotion, but not strong enough to distract from Takeda’s words and swordsmanship. Now he’d been discovered he no longer tried to hide his fighting style, more easily evading the dark sword like a soundless mannequin flying out of the way. He recalled Takeda’s earlier words and an idea began to take shape.
“Would you go back to it, if it meant destroying it?”
"Empty words!" the samurai reset his stance.
"The war, the Czar, my so called friends, all of it can burn!" he charged again.
Like a wolf, Viule evaded and circled watching for the prey to tire.
“It will be poisoned, in ways it hasn’t poisoned itself. Let that knowledge make your death easier if you’re unwilling to poison it yourself.” Knees bent for a split second and Viule straightened now holding the old kitchen knife. He sped forward, throwing knife as he evaded whilst aiming a kick to Takeda’s ribs.
The kick landed.
"Agh!" Takeda yelled. He managed to bring his sword up in time to deflect the knife though. The samurai jumped back,
"This blasted snow is keeping me sluggish!" the thought to himself.
"Fine you want to talk, let's talk. First how do I know you really aren't here to kill me on the Czar's behalf?"
“I fled Kaustir years ago. Only man that orders me around now is Pegulis councilman Turin of Belfast. I serve him tea, and clean his smoking pipe,” Viule paused, his patience waning as hunger urged him to be done with this business.
“If I’m here to kill you, it’s because a Kaustrian loyalist would get in the way of my plans. If I haven’t killed you, it’s because you’re turning out to be the opposite… and that could be use- helpful.”
"Very well..." the samurai sheathed his sword.
"Show me your loyalist brand to this land. That's how it works around here right? You serve them and you’re branded, especially an outsider?"
Viule imagined himself ripping Takeda’s lips off and somewhere in the distance Vanu snarled,
“I’m not that straightforward, I chose the backdoor. One branding’s been enough for my lifetime, this time I chose to be loyal not forced.” Viule’s fingers itched with the need to touch the scar, but resisted. If anything could make him feel with intensity, it was the thought of his early years.
“Come on, I need to eat and you need to rest,” Viule turned to walk back to the Elk farm though his muscles still tensed ready to defend,
“if you’re not going to die today, you better get yourself ready for travel.”[/fieldbox]
Collab @Tone 6th
End of Chapter 10.