Winter 78, 515
Mirahil Pass, Zeltiva
15th Bell
The weather had only become more frigid the further south Anja and Logan traveled down the Kabrin road. With time, the endless forests have given way to rolling hills followed by gargantuan looming mountains. Anja had never seen mountains before. The massive stone giants that slowly grew around them caught the Drykas' breath in his chest and his eyes stared at the snow caps with reverent awe. It was an honor to walk in the shadow of such ancient monoliths, and the opportunity made Anja feel humble.
In the weeks that had followed the burial of Anja's son, a strange tranquility had overcome the man. From where it can come he was not certain. Anja was no less motivated to seek out the Nuit; the desire to end the monster's life still thrummed fiercely inside of him. But the heat, the hatred, the mindless gnawing obsession had gently cooled, leaving Anja with a clear mind. Perhaps there was a certain degree of closure with the knowledge that a monster no longer wore his son's skin. Or perhaps there was the realization that they were closing in on him, and the Nuit's time was rapidly running out.
"How does Zeltiva treat the undead?" Anja asked Logan mildly. The pair road side by side in the pass as the mountains loomed on either side of them, the thud of hoofbeats echoing against the frozen ground alongside the quieter tap of dog paws. The Drykas was aware the city was drawing closer the further they travelled, and his mind was naturally considering the progression of events that would follow them entering the city.
Logan glanced at Anja through one eye, his fingers weaving through Vanguard's reins thoughtfully. "It's my understanding that he will probably be allowed inside. Especially considering the fact that at the moment he is not too rotten."
Anja frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Logan held up a hand to stop his words. "That said, the moment we mention the murders on the road I expect they will aid us in finding him immediately." Logan's lightly brushed the hilt of his sword.
Over the course of their travel, Anja had learned that the Syliran Knights were well respected in this country. But more than that, the Drykas had come to know why personally. In Logan, he had come to know a man of immeasurable patience, kindness, loyalty, and strength, not just of the flesh but also of the heart. Although Logan's skills and assets had led him here, Anja knew that if it weren't for the man's strength of character and reassuring presence, he would be equally lost. Logan had Anja's loyalty entirely. If Logan asked him for any favor, Anja would do it in a heartbeat. This loyalty that they inspired through action and deed rather than word was what made these men and women so highly respected.
"So once we track down the Nuit, what happens then?" Anja asked. There was little to do during their ride aside from talk, and the closer they drew to the city the more Anja's nerves began to heighten. He needed to distract himself. His fingers drummed against Maisa's shoulder as he spoke, and the strider flattened her ears at him reproachfully. Stop that, she scolded him through gesture, halting his fingertips.
(Words 558, Total 558)
Mirahil Pass, Zeltiva
15th Bell
The weather had only become more frigid the further south Anja and Logan traveled down the Kabrin road. With time, the endless forests have given way to rolling hills followed by gargantuan looming mountains. Anja had never seen mountains before. The massive stone giants that slowly grew around them caught the Drykas' breath in his chest and his eyes stared at the snow caps with reverent awe. It was an honor to walk in the shadow of such ancient monoliths, and the opportunity made Anja feel humble.
In the weeks that had followed the burial of Anja's son, a strange tranquility had overcome the man. From where it can come he was not certain. Anja was no less motivated to seek out the Nuit; the desire to end the monster's life still thrummed fiercely inside of him. But the heat, the hatred, the mindless gnawing obsession had gently cooled, leaving Anja with a clear mind. Perhaps there was a certain degree of closure with the knowledge that a monster no longer wore his son's skin. Or perhaps there was the realization that they were closing in on him, and the Nuit's time was rapidly running out.
"How does Zeltiva treat the undead?" Anja asked Logan mildly. The pair road side by side in the pass as the mountains loomed on either side of them, the thud of hoofbeats echoing against the frozen ground alongside the quieter tap of dog paws. The Drykas was aware the city was drawing closer the further they travelled, and his mind was naturally considering the progression of events that would follow them entering the city.
Logan glanced at Anja through one eye, his fingers weaving through Vanguard's reins thoughtfully. "It's my understanding that he will probably be allowed inside. Especially considering the fact that at the moment he is not too rotten."
Anja frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Logan held up a hand to stop his words. "That said, the moment we mention the murders on the road I expect they will aid us in finding him immediately." Logan's lightly brushed the hilt of his sword.
Over the course of their travel, Anja had learned that the Syliran Knights were well respected in this country. But more than that, the Drykas had come to know why personally. In Logan, he had come to know a man of immeasurable patience, kindness, loyalty, and strength, not just of the flesh but also of the heart. Although Logan's skills and assets had led him here, Anja knew that if it weren't for the man's strength of character and reassuring presence, he would be equally lost. Logan had Anja's loyalty entirely. If Logan asked him for any favor, Anja would do it in a heartbeat. This loyalty that they inspired through action and deed rather than word was what made these men and women so highly respected.
"So once we track down the Nuit, what happens then?" Anja asked. There was little to do during their ride aside from talk, and the closer they drew to the city the more Anja's nerves began to heighten. He needed to distract himself. His fingers drummed against Maisa's shoulder as he spoke, and the strider flattened her ears at him reproachfully. Stop that, she scolded him through gesture, halting his fingertips.
(Words 558, Total 558)
