Walter
Chapter 2: The gamble
The cart began to roll back down the road the way it had come, it was now carrying baskets of vegetables rather than clumps of hay and the man who rode it was richer than before from the trade he had done, before long the cart had rolled into the darkness of the forest, it was late in the evening but the summer sky was lighting the area well enough. Walter peered back in front of himself and eyed the tall building, the lower floors were lit and the regular ruckus which fills every crowded inn was evident. He twitched a frown and glanced over to Olive, only to find her already approaching the house.
”Miss La-... Olive, wait.” He started after slightly nervous but she was already skipping up the steps, talking over her shoulder.
”Waiting can wait, I'm hungry!” Walter sighed with a shake of his head and briskly followed his charge.
The inn was as busy as it sounded, every table had patrons whom were drinking, eating and chatting merrily, the mood was good and surprisingly tidy for such a rural place, Walter had expected rowdiness but found the atmosphere rather pleasant. He squeezed past two tables with an apologetic wave and smile, quickly following Olive towards the counter, the young woman stood leaned across it, speaking with the innkeeper in her usual friendly demeanor. The way she managed to make people smile just by being around was truly inspiring. Must lie in her blood, Walter imagined. He stepped up next to her and returned the smile given with a small one of his own.
”What do you want?” She inquired, standing up from where she was leaning. Walter blinked and shook his head lightly.
”I'm not hungry, thank you.” He then twitched into a frown, lowering his voice slightly. ”And it is not as if we can pay for anything, either...” Olive now blinked in realization.
”Oh.” She smiled in apology. ”I didn't consider that.” Walter smiled lightly and looked around the inn once again in silence, he gave each of the men inside a scrutinizing eye, for no real reason. He had no doubt traveled faster than the news and it is not as if anyone would be looking for them, either way. Most of the patrons were just drinking and talking but one table seemed to be playing some sort of dice game. Walter looked back to Olive, who was sullenly unordering her food. Walter bit his lip, then sighed out.
”Disregard that, sir. We'll pay.” He then stepped away from the counter. Olive followed quickly, whispering over lowly.
”What? But how are you going to pay for it?” Walter quirked a smile her way and winked. He hoped it looked as cool as he had imagined it in his head.
”You'll see.” With forced swagger he approached the four men who were playing their game, he grabbed a nearby chair and slid it in front of himself, he then sat down by the table and gave the men a cocky nod. ”Gentlemen.” Olive hovered about his shoulder, peeking at the farmers with an innocent smile. They returned the gesture with brief confusion, before peering towards each other, and then breaking into unified laughter.
”Boy, who'd ye think you are?” One of them laughed out, he wore a circular sunhat, its brim tattered and weather-worn.
”Bloody Travelers, I tell ya!” Another burst out laughing, slapping his muddy pant leg gaily. Walter's smile wavered into insecurity but he quickly cleared his throat, leaning in somewhat on his own leg.
”I... eh, Are you lads playing for coin?” He asked, peering between the four men. They shared a glance, one of them snorted a giggle. But they seemed to be of agreement. The man in the sunhat nodded.
”Sure, lad. We can gamble. What's the pot?”
”Enough to pay for one meal here.” Walter said, nodding firmly.
”And what do you have to offer?” The third man asked, stroking his bushy handlebars thoughtfully as he gazed over the grim looking boy. Walter considered what few things he had in his pockets, then nodded internally.
”How about work? If you win, I'll work for you. For free.” Olive gave Walter a look of surprise but said nothing and looked back to the men who were mulling this opportunity over, they discussed what tasks they had postponed and what others that really needed doing, but were just too much of a bother for themselves. Walter awaited their answer patiently. After some deliberation he increased the offer. ”Each.”
”You're on!” They all said in unison.
The rules of the game were simple. You used two dice and by simple guess work one person at the time would throw the dice and try to reach twenty-one, whoever got closest won but if you went above twenty-one you would loose immediately. The man with the handlebar moustache began, he threw the dice and they all watched the outcome. Five and two, a total of seven. The man threw again and then once more, before finally stopping at a safe eighteen points. He then reclined in his chair with a sly smile. Two more of the men played before it was Walter's turn, the second wound up at seventeen points and the third gambled and ended passing twenty-one, at which points the rest of the group cursed the man, all with friendly banter though. Walter now took the two wooden dice. He gave Olive a glance and smirked before jostling the dice in his hand and then dropping them on the table. A total of nine. Walter nodded to himself and threw the dice again, a total of six. He was now in the risk of passing twenty-one but he knew he wouldn't. If it meant feeding Olive, he would risk it. The three men joked and teased, but there wasn't any use in it, Walter had already won. He picked up the dice and jostled them in his hand before simply turning his hand and letting the dice drop unto the table. They wound up as Four. And Two. It was a perfect twenty-one - All four men burst out in a symphony of laughs and gasps, one patted Walter on his back for his exceptional luck. Walter smiled and feigned shock, Olive stood with a thin and worrisome smile behind him.
”Ah! Well played, boy!” The man in the sunhat said and led the others as they paid up their fee. They asked for a rematch to win back their coin but Walter only shook his head and declined. Leaving the company with the winnings.
----
”You shouldn't have done that.” Olive said in a hush as she was leaning over her platter of food. She pointed her judging fork in an unladylike manner to Walter who sat on the other side of their table. They had tactically chosen a spot in a lonely corner but there was still reason to speak lowly as the inn was still crowded.
”I had to.” He admitted with a small shrug and smiled innocently. Olive reclined in her seat and poked at her piece of meat with her fork absently.
”You didn't have to. I'm not dumb, I know why we had to leave like we did.” She sullenly gazed into her lap. Walter sighed and looked around the inn briefly.
”Olive. We haven't done anything wrong. You know that, right?” Walter stared at her meaningly. She admitted a sigh and slumped her shoulders.
”Then why did I have to leave?”
”Because...” Walter started but as he looked at Olive, he couldn't bear to share the blatant truth. ”... Because you need to go back home.” He stopped staring at her with a sigh, looking out through the window to their side instead, towards the road. ”That's all that matters.” There was a long silence as they both sunk into thought. Olive was the one to share her lamentation first.
”I was going to get married.” It was a simple statement, but it was clear she was painfully aware that it would never be now. Walter swallowed a gulp and nodded lightly as he looked back towards Olive. He was ashamed to say, that he was glad there would be no wedding, regardless of all implications. He smartly did not share this with Olive, however. Instead he nodded again and at a lack of things to say simply said:
”I know.”
”But I'm not now.” Olive continued.
”No. You're not.” Walter admitted numbly. He honestly did not know what to say and there was another long silence and Walter consciously stopped looking at the saddened Olive. She took one sullen bite of her food and Walter pretended to busy himself by watching the people in the tavern. Eventually she spoke up again.
”Is there going to be a war?” Walter blinked and looked back at her, surprised. He blustered for an answer in his head. Knowing what he was supposed to tell her, and what he wanted to tell her were two entirely different things.
”No, no! Of course not.” He responded at last and faked a reassuring smile. Olive did not seem to buy it and just sunk back into her seat and prodded at her food with her judging fork. The evening passed on in sullen silence and they were later admitted to stay within the stables for the night, Olive slept and Walter remained at guard. He lay his cloak over the young woman and spent the night with his thoughts: They would most likely reach the first checkpoint of their destination tomorrow at which point the news would most likely have reached every man and woman of the Realm. King Averheim was most likely dead. At the hands of Valentian Magic no less, and war was at this point; most likely unavoidable.
Walter
Chapter 3: Homeward bound
The tower was ablaze, an unnatural blue fire spewed from within, it escaped through the large windows and spread far into the skyline. Walter watched its tremendous power as he fell, it was still a long way down and his fall seemed to last much too long. The look Molaire had given him flashed before him, a quick smirk which told of unbelievable knowledge and unspeakable horror. Walter opened his eyes again and turned to look down towards the ground, the city sprawled an endless stretch before him. Monarch's rise, the capital of the North. A green glowing gem in the rough, more beautiful than he had ever seen it. Most likely because this was a dream. As he came to this realization he quickly roused and woke with an alert jump. He looked around and saw the stables in which he had spent the night. His body was numb and his eyes heavy from the brief nap but he was awake. Walter got up with a puffering yawn and rubbed his eye over with the back of his knuckle, he looked over and noticed that Olive was still soundly asleep, she was clutching onto the cloak he had given her and her hair lay uncomely over her face. Walter sighed, reached down to fix the hair but quickly stopped himself and frowned. Ultimately he left Olive alone and walked out of the simple stables, stretching his drowsy body as he looked skywards, the sun had just begun to rise over the treetops and the rich midsummer morning was pleasantly warm to stand in. The area was quiet until a single bird chirped happily among the trees, Walter listened to it and noticed there was no bird to return the affectionate singing, Walter glumly found the feeling all too relatable.
----
The road itself was also lonely for the most part. Olive wandered quietly next to him half asleep. She seemed to sway as she walked and everything after Walter's ”Good morning.” had been responded with either a dry yawn or dull silence. Not a morning person, Walter noted mentally and smiled to himself. They walked down the road like so for a few hours and watched the scenery in silence. The land was green and rich with the colours of summer. Many of the farms they passed displayed vivid plantations of vegetables, flowers and herbs. Others were the home of animals, whom dumbly gazed after the two travelers while grazing their luscious grass. The air and scene had its effect on Olive and she slowly awoke from her coma and rose to her usual self again. Walter too, found brooding difficult in such a place and especially so when Olive was finally speaking.
”It's so breezy here.” She said, looking up at the blue sky.
”I know. Not like home, is it.” Walter admitted with a smile, happy to talk about something as simple as the weather.
”I honestly don't remember. It's been so long.” Olive said while glancing back at Walter. Who paused in some uncertainty. Olive shook her head and smiled, speaking again. ”It'll be fun, right? How long has it been since you've been home?” Walter considered this before answering.
”Four years now.”
”That's not so long.” Olive said cheerfully. ”Studying, right?”
”Yes. In the capital.” He nodded.
”I haven't been there since I was a little girl.” Olive said dreamily. Most likely envisioning the white marble palace itself. ”Never thought I'd go back.” She smiled happily and tucked her hands together behind her back as she strolled. ”It'll be fun.” She told herself once more. Walter stretched a minor smile in response and then looked back ahead down the road. They were approaching a house.
As they passed the cottage next to the road a familiar face came into Walter's vision.
”Heya, boy!” The man waved frantically from his spot on the porch. Walter peered over skeptically while Olive broke a smile and returned the wave.
”Hello!” She called and approached the house as the man in the sunhat beckoned them over with his hand.
”You traveling kids again, who'd have thought I'd see you today, eh?” The farmer chuckled and went to meet them by the small step up to the porch. ”How'd you like that food?” Olive broke a thankful smile and nodded in response.
”It was wonderful. Thank you!”
”Not as if he made it...” Walter mumbled lowly. This earned him a scornful face from Olive and an overbearing smile from the farmer.
”You kids look like you could use a drink.” The man said and was starting to head inside. Walter interrupted the movement.
”We... Really ought to keep going. On quite a schedule.” Olive turned and perked a brow, and then gave Walter a pleading look. He found it hard to withstand but with an apologetic frown he managed. ”Sorry.” He then gestured Olive back down the steps, she glumly followed the gesture and turned to give the farmer a sorrowful glance.
”Looks like we'll have to decline.” She said and gave Walter an eye. He did not like that eye's mood but would just have to contend with it. The farmer only chuckled and stepped after them as they descended back down the step.
”That's alright, missy. Here you go, at least. Sun can be a dangerous mistress, y'hear.” He had removed his scrappy sunhat and was extending it down to Olive. She accepted it somewhat taken back but stretched a wide smile and bowed in quick thanks before putting the hat over her copper brown hair.
”Thank you sir!” She adjusted the large hat by its tattered brim and spread a happy smile. Before long they started off the road again after saying a quick good-bye and left the cottage and the farmer behind them. A few more miles passed across the last meadow, the scent of seawater became evident and the breeze had become stronger. In the distance Walter could spot the township of Arlston, its harbour was brimming with ships of many different creeds and colours, one of them was the familiar Brown Owl of Valentus, Olive was quick to point it out in excitement and Walter knew, that from here on out, their trip would surely be much easier.
Walter
Chapter 4: The god of Hearts
Waves crashed melodiously against the large wooden docks and the sound mixed with the shrilling calls of seagulls. Adding unto the many different languages and dialects that were already spoken or shouted in the crowded harbour town, it made for a surprisingly symphonic barrage of sounds. Olive had held an excitement since before they had arrived in Arlston and were even more eager to reach the ship now but Walter was more paranoid, someone had to be. The simple fact that the Valentian ship wasn't on fire was a good first sign, he had to admit and the familiar owl was pleasant to look at after so many years in the North. Olive clearly thought the same as she quickly pushed past the people in the market to reach the ship faster, Walter suddenly had a difficult time keeping up and he briskly set after her, bumping into people at every step.
”H-hey! Olive!” He bellowed but she was already out of earshot. ”Olive, come back!” Walter stepped on a woman's feet and she gave a squeal and quickly made to push Walter away. He fell into another person, who returned the push. Walter was trapped between a Northener and a Hard place, he gave a loud groan and adjusted himself into the center so he could apologize and leave the annoying northeners to follow Olive before she was completely lost to the crowd, he assumed she was headed for the ship so Walter pushed past some more people and reached the pier where the frigate was docked. Olive was there, but so was the local guard. Walter heaved out a sigh but quickly approached, this could still be salvaged. Hopefully.
”Good day, gentlemen!” He called out, quickly stepping up next to Olive and beckoning her back with a hand on her small shoulder.
”Good day, sir.” One of the guards responded gruffly. ”You in charge of this girl?” Walter chuckled lightly, pretending to be polite was an artform well practiced by his people.
”Yes, sir. Apologies – My... Sister. Can be quite aloof sometimes.” Walter smiled and then removed Olive's large hat to ruffle her hair. She had caught on quickly and smiled innocently, she was a natural actor.
”So sorry, sir knight!” She bowed briskly and the guard clearly appreciated both the authority and the assumption that he was indeed, a knight. He cracked a smile and jerked his head back towards the vacant ship.
”Yeah, well. Don't do it again, this ship is off limits, alright.” He looked back to Walter and Olive, giving a stern gaze. Walter replaced Olive's hat untop of her head and allowed the guardsman a nod.
”Of course sir. Might I ask why?”
”Tsk. No reason I know of. Just followin' orders, bub.” Was the response. ”Sea-Dwellers gone pissed off the Lord, I figg'er.”
”Ah, well. Thank you. We'll leave you to it then, sir.” Walter held Olive by one shoulder and guided her backwards, all the while giving the guards a polite smile.
”Raisins!” Olive exclaimed, thrusting a hand up madly. Walter scoffed into a laugh at her dramatic acting but quickly turned it into fake discontent, giving her a light whack over the head. She held onto her head protectively and sulked as they walked away from the pier and the ship.
”Now what do we do?” Olive asked from behind the brim of her large sunhat.
”The ship wasn't our stop, Olive.” Walter explained patiently.
”... Oh.” Was the response and Olive glanced back ahead, the market was more sparse in this area and the duo walked moreso on the pier itself to avoid crowds.
”I was going to tell you, but you just ran away.” Walter explained, he then dared to nudge his hand against her arm playfully. ”And you were supposed to be aloof. Not bonkers.” It earned a giggle from Olive who then smiled over to her side. ”Raisins...” Walter muttered in amusement, whilst shaking his head.
”Well. I think it was rather convincing!” She burst out and struck a quick pose. Which now made Walter laugh instead. He was about to respond but they were cut short as a person had stopped in front of them and cleared its throat in a wish to be noticed. The duo glanced over and eyed the figure. He wore a brown flanking cloak with its hood up, the man rose the hood enough for his face to be seen and Walter recognized him as Governor Tarveil.
”Sir.” Walter nodded briefly in recognition and this eased Olive's nerves and she visibly sunk back out of tension.
”Walter. Alive still, are we – Is this her?” Sir Tarveil glanced over to Olive who returned a smile from beneath her hat at the impatient man.
”Yes, it's her.” Walter said, folding his arms loosely. ”I hope we're not too late.” Tarveil shook his head and gestured Walter to be quiet, his eyes locked on Olive. After an awkward minute he gestured them along and turned on the spot, his large cloak flapping with the movement. Olive smiled insecurely after the stare down and consciously fixed the folds of her simple skirt.
”You're quite timely. We're leaving this evening.” He said as he started to walk down the pier. ”Lucky I spotted you and no one else.”
”You're lucky no one has spotted you, Lord Tarveil.” Walter said. ”Cloaks and hoods are mighty conspicuous.” This earned a scoff from the rather small statured man whom didn't even turn back to look at the guardian. Walter continued, quite irate already with the lord. ”And how do you plan to leave in the first place?”
”On our ship, of course.” Tarveil said, turning a corner and thus leaving the pier to walk into the town. Walter blinked and spared Olive a glance before looking back at the hooded figure walking ahead of them.
”That ship is guarded by the local militia. Do you expect to steal it?” Tarveil now stopped, turned his head and looked back intensly at Walter.
” I will make this clear for you, Sorcerer.” He used the word like an insult which made Walter cringe internally. ”I am a LORD of Valentus. And Lords do not STEAL. We claim what is rightfully ours. If the Northern fools step in my way, they shall see the price it will cost them. Very closely...” Tarveil nearly growled through his teeth before briskly turning to continue his walk down the street. Walter met Olive's eye and twitched a frown of concern. She returned a thin smile of reassurance before stepping after the Lord. Walter sighed, and then followed them further into town.
It wasn't far to their destination. It was a simple and large storage building which at this point primarily held two things: The first were piles of timber taken from the nearby woods. The second were nearly thirty Valentian men-at-arms, one disgruntled Governor, one sorcerer and then Olive. Walter looked down at the small host of countrymen from where he was stood untop a box next to Olive. Tarveil was in front of him, adressing the men in a rigid tenor of authority.
”My fellows! Tonight is the night that we shall leave this land and return to our glorious home. Now we are charged with a quest of utmost importance - We shall reclaim my ship. OUR ship! And the Northeners will have no choice but to relinquish it or... Die!” Walter perked a brow and watched his brothers in arms rattle some weaponry and rouse some mediocre battle cries in grievous response. Valentians are usually a sensical bunch but there were two simple things you could mention to rile them into battle within minutes. The glorious homeland was the first, and claiming ships in the name of said Homeland was the second. Preferably at the cost of Northern blood. Figuratively and literally speaking. However, something they love more are debates, and so it was only a matter of time before one man shouted up towards the Governor.
”We don't have enough men! Can't expect to fight the whole damn town!” Walter looked down at the man who had shouted, it was a middle-aged man carrying a fine looking longsword, he appeared quite strong but it was no one Walter recognized. Walter then trailed the grim man's gaze as he stared to Tarveil, awaiting the imminent response.
”Our manpower shall be enough, Commander Harsley. For our mission is that of the most importance! With us, we have the strength of Valentia, that power which is of Royal blood!” Tarveil gestured Olive forward and she obediently stepped up and showed herself to the men below. Tarveil went on. ”Men. I give you: Princess Olive Lavernus!” A hush went out over the hall as Olive was quickly analyzed, there was then a murmur until Olive had curtsied neatly, and of course removed her hat.
”It is a pleasure to meet you all.” She said and spared a warm smile. ”I hope to make it home soon.” The men all looked to each other before taking to a knee. Some instantaneous, other reluctant. There was no reason to lie and they had no doubt all been expecting just this, waiting for it. Which meant they all knew who Walter was as well, he wasn't sure he liked that. Olive glanced back to Tarveil who nodded approvingly. The Lord then took her place, now gesturing Walter up instead.
”The Princess' guardian mage shall be with us. As is his charge, he will be our implement of destruction! The day will be ours, and we shall bring the Princess home!” The lord practically dragged the bewildered Walter up to scene and shouted prominently out towards the men. ”My heart for Home! My blood for Valentia!” The cry to the God was something no follower of the Valentian faith could ignore and the thirty armed men all rouse to the call.
”My heart for Home! My blood for Valentia!” Walter blinked and reluctantly mimed the words, looking out across the group before finally ending on Olive. She gave a sorry smile but it was a brief one as she had now adopted the everlasting grace of royalty again and remained standing as she was. Indignant, important and out of reach.
Walter
Chapter 5: Syren's Flight
Due to the season the night was comfortably bright. The stars and moon shone upon the now emptied harbour plaza with quiet serendipity, this amount of starlight was highly beneficial for magic, or so the sages would have you believe. Walter was not one for the older views but at this point he would have accepted every blessing or nonsensical trinket offered, he peeked out from behind the corner he was hiding behind. While the plaza was empty, there was still a constant force of watchers that were patrolling the docks, they were highly situated upon the pier near their quarry, the Syren. But the ship itself only seemed to have a single guard posted, from what he could tell. Walter scanned across the other side of the plaza and noticed Harsley hidden behind one of the closed market huts. He was leading the main force who would later sieze the ship. Walter then looked across to the opposite side of the plaza, he could not see them now, but Tarveil's group would be somewhere there. Both groups were spread evenly and they were just waiting for the supposed carnage Walter was about to bring. The sorcerer slipped back behind cover and pressed against the brick wall, with a pant he slid down to sit, scratching his head thoughtfully. Before the operation had started he had not been certain this was the right thing to do, he still did not believe in bloodshed but it was much too late now, it had been too late for a long time. They needed to leave before war started, and this their one chance. Walter considered instead how exactly he would go about this. His kinsmen were expecting magic, something out of a story where a grand wizard would spew fire from his hands. Walter looked down at his own and frowned. He knew it was possible, he had seen it for himself, hadn't he? But that was different, that had been different in some way he couldn't describe. Walter shook his head and then the thoughts away, focus. Do this, if not for yourself, do it for Olive. Or Princess Lavernus, or the Avatar of Valentia. Walter didn't keep track of it and it honestly didn't matter at this point. There was a job to do. Walter heaved a final breath, stepped up to his feet and looked out towards the ship, he inhaled and briefly fluttered his eyes before shutting them completely. There was then nothing but the void before him. He held his breath as he hovered mid air between spaces, taking a breath here could be fatal, as it wasn't air you breathed. He then took a single heavy step forward, wading through the vivid black excuse for ground as far as he imagined he needed to go. It wasn't more than one step before he opened his eyes again in the same flutter. He nearly toppled over as his head began to sway but he managed to remain standing. He looked down to the ground and noticed that it was indeed different, planks now. The deck of a ship, hopefully the right one. Walter was quick to run the thoughts through his head, translocating was in theory easy enough but adjusting your head to it was the difficult part. His speedy recovery was necessary as it was only a minute before a lantern's light fell on him.
”Oi! Who're you?!” A voice thundered out towards him and the light came swaying closer. Walter made the quick assumption he was indeed on the right ship and he raised his hands in surrender.
”Uh. The guard shift?” He bluffed poorly. His mind already twisting itself to grasp the local elemental force.
”Guard shift my arse. Thief is what you are. Not doin' it very good, eh!” Walter heard the schink of a sword being pulled out of its scabbard as the footsteps and hovering light came closer to him.
”Doing it very well.” Walter corrected the approaching guardsman before flexing both of his raised hands in a simple motion. He then quickly hit the deck and covered his head for desperately needed protection.
It was maybe a minute later, but the blasted ringing would not stop. Walter swayed unto his feet with a groan and held onto his head. From his blurry vision he could spot a black soot mark in the deck where a man once had stood, he then saw the rest of the man. Everywhere else. On the ground lay the remains of the lantern, only minorly burnt, naturally. Walter proceeded to perform one of the most useful lessons sorcerers practice in their everyday work. Limb counting. With all extremities accounted for he could move on and he stumbled to the railing to lean on. He focused his eyes and could eventually make out the pier in the haze. It appeared his stunt had been noticed and a couple of the militia men were climbing up the rope ladder attached to the frigate. Walter quickly looked out across the plaza and noticed that reinforcements were not yet on the way.
”Great. I bring them explosions and what do I get in return?” Walter cursed to himself and hurried to meet the incoming militia. He arrived just as the first man had climbed up the rope ladder. This man was met with a solid boot to the face and thus fell straight off the ladder and thumped painfully back on the pier. The next person glared up at Walter and the men behind him began cursing and all speeding up their ascent. Walter did not require magic for this, he simply flicked his cloak aside and quickly drew the large knife he carried. He then began to madly slice at the rope ladder's attachement. Much to the lamentation of the people climbing it. Walter cut through the rope and the ladder swung out to the side, now only held together on one side, the people holding onto it tussled and swayed about helplessly, they would not have an easy time getting up now. Walter smiled down glibly at them, until he was struck by an arrow that is. He fell down to his back and gasped out shrilly, the arrow had lodged itself in his left arm and was rigidly stuck. Walter squirmed on the ground, cursing the infernal pain. From what little sense he had left he kicked himself away from the ledge, as he heard the lads were still climbing, now using only the boat itself to do so.
”Now or never, lads! Blood for Valentia!” Walter had never been so happy to hear Tarveil, honestly he wasn't very happy now either but the battlecry meant good things incoming. It meant someone else was in more trouble than he was. There was the thudding of thirty or so Valentians rushing across wood and the usual shouts that came to meet them.
”Behind us!”
”Bloody 'ell...” A clatter of metal followed, hollow voices and blood curling cries mashed together in a symphony of bloody violence. Walter was sure he could hear Harsley shout something about a Princess but the man couldn't be that stupid. No matter, more important things to attend to, as one of the militia men had finally climbed the ship's side. He made to help his companion up first and the two of them presumably watched the battle on the pier, in what Walter thought was horror. One of them turned however and noticed the injured mage.
”Eh... Heh-Hello there.” Walter began. The second man turned and they both grasped the swords dangling at their sides, approaching with brisk steps. ”Lads. We don't want to do this.” Walter continued, raising his functional hand in warning. He had gotten up to a half standing position now and his head was racing for a solution, only, he didn't like what his head had in mind. They kept approaching regardless of the warning, of course they would. They didn't know any better. They were just doing their job, and there we are... Walter sighed out wearily, locked his eyes upon the men as they came closer, one raised his sword and then held it up. The other man looked from Walter to his companion, very confused as to why his friend would raise his sword to strike, but never bring it down. As he tried to move himself, he found that too, was impossible. The two militia men looked back at the sight of Walter, having twisted the arrow trapped inside his arm half a lap. He looked upon the two men, trapped within an invisible grasp and he afforded them an apologetic frown before gripping the arrow tighter. With a firm jerk he pulled the arrow out the way it had come, blood splurted viciously out of his gashing wound and he fell to a knee in a ghastly gasp for air. His eyes were shut but the sounds were enough to paint the picture well enough. As the two men's whole bodies suffered the same fate Walter's singular wound just had. Walter pressed his head against the now blood soaked board and wheezed desperately for air. He could feel his head reeling and his body instinctively rejecting the vileness he had just released. Some time passed like this and the last thing Walter could remember was the voice of Harsley thundering like a sledgehammer to his ears.
”OVER HERE, MILORD.” He then seized the opportunity and promptly passed out.
