“Just a pint, Elenna, thanks,” the patron said, nodding to the barkeep. Araes’s stomach soured as the man leaned across the counter, his scent lingering in the steam trails of stew. Manure and wheatgrass—he probably came straight from the fields.
Elenna placed a smudged glass beside him and crackedhim a grin. Beneath the grime and grease, she was rather pretty. Straight brown hair, woven into a long plait over her right shoulder, and a full waist.
Maybe as a no-rank he’d have trailed her like a hound, tongue lapping and eager. She probably fought off plenty of soldiers running this place. Those days of casual, midnight meetings were long past. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed himself in those early years.
He was just so damned tired now. Tired from the war. From his demons. From, well, life.
As much as his body begged him to drag himself upstairs and collapse into bed, he wouldn’t waste the day away.
“Venian soldier, eh?” the man asked, bracing a bruised elbow on the bar top.
“Yes, sir. It seems everyone in this town knows it too,” Araes replied, inspecting the old man. He wasn’t quick to trust Canissaens, especially with the rebellion in full blaze.
“We don’t get many easterners these days, youngin’,” he said, sipping his ale. Foam caught in his full graying beard. “Why aren’t you with your queen?”
“She doesn’t require my services today, I suppose,” Araes said.
“Name’s Eadric. I own the farm just south of here.” The man crossed his arms and rested them on his round belly. “Look, if you’re wanting to kill some time, there’s a few trails along the outskirts of the Autumn King’s property. Do you fish? Salmon season just started and the lake down that way is the best spot. The Goldenheads go there to breed every year.”
Araes tensed. He hadn’t picked up a lure since before Enyo left for training. The brothers would always waste their weekends away beside the Eastern River, shit talking and boasting about who could catch more. Hiking out to the lakefront, sitting beside its peaceful waters, might allow those dangerous memories he’d spent so long buryingto resurface.
“Thank you, Eadric, but I’m content here for the night.”
“Yeah, yeah I know. Why would an old city folk like me offer such a thing to a Venian soldier like you? We’re loyal to our Patron around these parts. And by extension, loyal to yours as well,” Eadric said, draining his ale in one heavy gulp.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir. It’s just been…a long few years.” Araes glanced at the tattoos peeking from his tunic sleeves. Each inch of those thick black lines represented a Canissaen life he’d stolen. They weren’t an honor, but abrand. A reminder of the blood spilled and the epidemic of pain he aided in spreading.
“Understood. The realms aren’t what they used to be. Something’s amiss here, us farm folk can feel it,” Eadric said, tapping a long, weathered index finger against his glass.
“What do you mean?” Araes asked, leaning across the counter. “Because of the rebellion?”
“Gods no. Those fools wouldn’t dare risk spewing their treasonous sludge around these parts. No, our crops are dying. Livestock’s barren. I fear there’s a blight upon us.” Eadric’s eyes darted around the room, as if ensuring the other patrons hadn’t heard him. “These hills are ancient, soldier. Older than time itself. They’re warning us of something.”
Even if these were simply the ramblings of an old man, Araes’s heart pumped a little faster. The Canissaens weren’t a superstitious people, no, but they knew when to listen to the land. During his time with the 15th, there’d been plenty of reports from the lesser Canissaen villages about slain livestock and poisoned crops, but he’d written them off as repercussions of the war. Though now with flatland creatures reaching as far as Venia, Araes couldn’t shake the thought that what Eadric suggested was true.
“Warning of what?” he asked. Images of the deathwielders flashed in his vision. Those dead limbs dragging over dried, rotten leaves. Their depthless black eyes bored holes into him as he and Tethys retreated. Even now, he could hear their teeth chatter.
“Don’t know, but whatever it is, I hope I’m not around to see it.”
The two men sank into their stools. Araes glanced at his stew, no longer hungry to finish it.
“Can we get a refill, Elenna?” Eadric asked. “I think we both need one.”
Araes chuckled and drained his remaining ale. “I might need a few.”
The hearth burned cold as they sat in silence. Elenna topped the two men’s glasses off and returned to her seat behind the bar. Araes watched as she picked up a small leather notebook and scribbled on its pages, her fingers stained with charcoal. Sitting there, biting her bottom lip in sheer concentration, she looked so normal. So innocent.
Araes wasn’t naïve about the morality of war. Enemies were never simply black and white. Of course there was evil in this world, he’d met it face to face too many times to count, but these patrons—this city– they just wanted to live. To be happy and healthy and fed. Just as the Venians did.
“Flatland creatures attacked our convoy on the journey here. They’d made it as far as the Venian border,” Araes said, glancing at the old man beside him. Eadric straightened in his seat, candlelight highlighting the bags under his tired, withered eyes. “Whatever the land’s trying to tell you, sir. I would listen intently.”
Eadric, grim and grey, nodded and tapped the counter before rising from the bar. “If it means anything, it was a long few years for us, too.”
The old man tossed him a half smile before swinging the bar door open and stepping into the midday light outside. Of course, he knew the destruction of war spreadfurther than just the front lines. He saw it reflected in every glint of life taken from the enemies he’d slain. He saw it in the scarred outposts and forests. The war was bloody and brutal, stealing husbands from wives. Fathers from children. Brothers from brothers. His throat dried.
Maybe Captain Theos was right. Maybe he was so irreparably broken, hedidneed time away. But keeping busy with eyes fixed forward was easier than turning around and facing what was left to rot in the past. The war stripped every shred of humanity from him.
Only skin, bone, and anger remained. These quiet moments left the floodgates open. His shields were swift to come down when that uniform came off.
