Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

It had been a while since the battle for Andaris, and yet Aeon wouldn't heal. His face healed pretty well, leaving a huge bloody red scar across the entire left side of it. His back healed, leaving a multitude of scary scars from top to bottom of it. Even his arm healed, as best as it could. But something inside him wouldn't heal. He kept trying to scratch his left hand at night, even though there wasn't anything to be itchy, and he kept being surprised every morning when he saw his face in the mirror. He couldn't adjust to looking through only one eye either. He was in a dark and scary place, and not just because of the Shadows that were attacking the city.

Aeon wasn't his old self. His old self would not have stopped training just because of a few injuries. That young man wouldn't fall into the dark place and lose hope, he'd keep trying to find the light. Thing is, this new young man stopped believing that there was much light in the first place. This new young man couldn't accept the facts. Everything that had happened to him was just a bit too much, and fear, anger and hatred overcame him, at least on the inside. On the outside, Aeon tried as hard as he could to keep away from things that may act a trigger. It was enough that he actually gave thought to killing a fellow squire. He wouldn't let himself do that again.

The gates were shut, but they'd open some day, and when that day came, Aeon wouldn't let himself stay in this place. The scars on his face were much more than just physical for the young squire, and every time a woman would look at him with disgust, or a soldier with fear, he would feel rejected. So Aeon decided it was time to do things on his own, at least for a little bit, until he could get himself back under control. He had no idea where he'd go once the gates opened, but he knew he'd go somewhere. Perhaps to Warrick, he thought. To remember his roots better, to remember what kind of person he was. No. Too many people died because of the person he was. Even Ryqos was as good as dead, seeing how he left the city several trials ago and still hadn't came back. If only he managed to stop that beast, perhaps things would've turned out differently. What if the beast caused all these shadow monsters to attack the city? Then it was all Aeon's fault. Every death was on him, all of that blood on his hands. He didn't need to become what he once was, he needed to become something better, stronger, something that wouldn't let all those people down.

And so he walked across the streets. He walked and walked, until he saw, just at the corner, a single thing that might actually come in handy. A cloak, behind a glass window of the most famous clothing shop in all of Andaris. Aeon had money to spare, and a nice cloak would come in handy to hide himself from prying eyes and all who cared to look at the scarred squire. Walking inside, Aeon noticed the owner, Tailor Mage, or something like that, smirking gloriously. His business must've been flourishing considering he owned one of the only clothing shops in mid-town. At least the shadow beasts were good for someone.

A quick curse escape the owner's mouth as he looked at Aeon's face. Eeesh.. was the usual reaction, but this wasn't the first nor the last curse Aeon heard. "Sir, the black cloak, is it for sale?" The young squire asked, without the smile that would've usually been on his face. Aeon's only eye was showing no sign of emotions, while the hole in which the other one used to be was covered with bandages. He was still waiting on an eye patch.

"O'course it is good soldier, but I think I've got something you might want to look at even more so than the cloak." The owner of the shop said and with a sneaky smile he left to the back of the shop to get something. Aeon thought about what he may need, and nothing exactly came to mind. After a few moments, the man returned with what looked to be just another regular cloak in his hands. "See, I made this design out of boredom, but somehow I knew it'd come in handy, it just suits you so well!" He said, looking at what from the back appeared to be a normal cloak, just of different measures. Once the man turned the cloak around, Aeon could see the perfectly embroidered blue dragon on the right side of it. It was rather stunning, how someone managed to do something like that, and the young squire liked it. Of course, much like any good merchant, the Tailor mage didn't stop there, as he took out a black leather belt from somewhere within his desk, and handed it to Aeon. Sure. Aeon thought, letting the man keep going, considering he could use a good new belt, and this one came with just the perfect place to sheath a sword. "And I'd love to have something here that you could use for your eye.. but I don't. To be fair, I've never actually sewed any eye patches, but if you come around in a few days, it should be waiting for you, huh, whatcha thinking?"

Like a true dumb person, Aeon payed the man the desired amount, and nodded to the question about the eye patch. If the Iron Hand didn't get him one before this mage person did, he'd just buy it from him. The young squire had money to spare anyways, mostly because he wasn't spending it on food or water, because he had all those things from the military.

He took the belt and cloak in a bag, and kept walking, like before he came to the shop. He looked around at the worn out faces of peasants, some of which were scared, some which were angry, and others were just blank. They didn't have anything written in the look of their eyes, nor in their movements. Of course, there were always those individuals which didn't care about the state of the world and kept on going with their normal lives. Every time Aeon would see one of those, it would draw a smile on his scarred face, seeing how the city was not all broken. There were still people with hope, and there would always be people with hope, and that made the young squire happy.

Walking through the marketplace, he spotted another one of those individuals, but this one may have bitten more than she could chew of.. or something like that, Aeon could never remember those phrases. The woman with pure black hair was stumbling through the people with what would seem like a dozen bags in her arms. The young squire wondered what she may be carrying in so many bags, but that was not as important. Doing good was still important to Aeon, even with all of his scars, and that would never stop being his main focus, so he rushed to the woman in order to help out.

"Hey miss, you appear burdened, you need any help with all of that?"

Aeon smiled at the words of gratitude from the woman, though he was in fact surprised as she put the bags down, instead of giving them straight to the young man. He was also very much surprised at the first sight of her appearance. She was a slave, and that much was clear, though that made absolutely no difference to Aeon, he wanted to help the woman even more, seeing how her master must have been some lazy jerk who couldn't buy his own food.

The old Aeon would've looked at the woman without noticing any details besides the chain that hung from her, and immediately thought about freeing her, though about speaking with her master, thought about a lot of childish and stupid things he could've done. The old Aeon would've found the chains highly inappropriate, but this new person the young squire aimed to become, he wouldn't force anyone to anything, especially not freedom. The woman appeared happy, so he needed to think that she was at least somewhat in good conditions. He still disliked the chains that bound her to her lifestyle, but it wasn't his decision to make.

"Please, I am no Sir, I'm Aeon. It's a beautiful name, Faith." Aeon said what he meant without much thought, that thing still hasn't changed about him. Being named Faith and having such a destiny, it was rather ironic from her namegivers, whom the young squire presumed to be slavers. Not many people enslaved at their later years are so content with their lives and their treatment. Many would try to remove the chains, and fight during the placing of the brands. That brand.. Aeon noticed the rose on Faith's left shoulder and barely held his gasp. She was a noble's slave. Considering the young one's current position, she might have actually outranked him by social standards, just because of her owner. It didn't bother Aeon, he had just never felt that way, so his eyes slowly drifted from the brand, as he was not willing to think about it anymore.

The woman had clearly seen the scars the first time she looked at Aeon, and yet she didn't freak out, she didn't get scared, nor was she actually disgusted by them. The perks of being a slave, in Aeon's eyes. "No please, it's really not as bad as it looks, save that for yourself." The young man smiled honestly as he watched the woman's pale eyes. It was a pure lie, since the scars were a thousand times worse than they looked, and every time he would touch them, it would burn hotter than the white fire of Rynmere the Jacadon. Still, he needed to hold the pain deep, because if he gave into the pain, who would remain strong?

"Of course, I'll help in any way possible" Aeon said, not letting the sweet smile leave his face. The first bag was the hardest, as he constantly attempted using the fingers of his left to grab it, but by the time Faith grabbed a bag herself, the squire found a way. Using the handless arm as a wall, he made a small basket with his arms, in which he held the bags Faith gave, plus his own bag, which was pointlessly carrying clothes he could've been wearing. He grabbed the last bag, so that he had nearly double the amount of stuff in his hands than the slave, and started walking in the direction the woman was going before he stopped her.

"I hope you don't mind me asking Faith, but I've noticed you're owned by the Venoras, and I was wondering, how is your master to you?" Talking was the best way to not pay attention to the people looking at them. It was enough for Aeon that he was constantly observed by those intrigued by the scars, he was now walking alongside a slave, helping her out, so most of the street-watchers, as Ryqos liked to call the people who would just stand at the window or in the corner and observe the passengers, had double the reasons to curiously look at the young man. Some still looked with disgust or fear, or hatred or anger, but some where now looking with smiles, seeing how the cripple helped the slave.

It was just absurd, ridiculous. No matter how hard he tried to change his view on slavery, that little thing that Faith had just brought up made Aeon think the worst of all slavers ever. She wasn't permitted to call him by his given name? Which idiot had only come up with that, Aeon wondered. Calling the young squire 'Aeon' was more true than calling him a sir, considering he didn't own any land, he was barely out of his teenage years, and he wasn't even a knight. The most accurate name or title one could use for him is 'squire', and if not that, then calling him by his given name should be the only option.

"And yet calling me sir is rather incorrect." He mumbled underneath his friendly smile, which still hadn't left his face. Even if she didn't have any freedom whatsoever, Faith should have the right to call people the way they want to be called, not the way those stupid nobles imagined the rules to be. In the whole entire complex subject of slavery, this topic was one of the most irritating to Aeon. If he only knew who made those rules, he'd give them a nice taste of his only fist.

"Alright, alright, I'll try it." It was incredible. Faith only wanted to do a good deed. Not many people thought that way, and just as he was about to pin it on the years of slave training she had, Aeon looked into her eyes. It was more than habit, it was more than responsibility, it was like she had embraced that with all her heart and soul. She honestly only wanted to do good. The scarred squire took a pinch of the salve from the jar, and rubbed it with his fingers across his burning skin. It was one of the greatest sensations he had felt in his lifetime. He could feel the chill going through him, covering his veins and going into his blood. He no longer felt the burning heat and pain, he only felt chill. Mostly because his face had little skin to cover the meat on the place of the injury, he was exposed to the wind of the hot Saun day. Still, anything was better than the incredible devastation he was feeling before. "This is truly helping, thank you very much Faith."

He was smiling, as he started getting used to the cool sensation which went around his face, even up to the hole which once contained an eyeball. Aeon appreciated honestly how Faith never said a word about the scars, nor the missing hand, but just kept going trusting in the young squire to do what he wanted to. It was something he really valued with people, and yet so few of them had it. Trust in others, in complete strangers.

Kind and gentle and fair.. Those were definitely not the words Aeon would use to describe any slave owners he knew, but perhaps this Venoran guy was different. He doubted it for some reason, but he also trusted Faith at the same time. He had heard many things about the Venorans, all of them, and they all seemed to be complete wackos in their own way. The greatest of stories he had heard was the one that came from his father, about the old grumpy Venoran woman, and what shocked him the most was the fact the story was actually true. That old Ebony woman did exist, even though the young squire always believed she was just a way to scare bad children into doing good things.

And there came the part in which Aeon had to choose. He could see the honesty in Faith's pale eyes, and yet he had trouble believing that she was treated so nicely as a slave to the nobles. "He sounds like a truly wonderful person. I'd love to meet him." The scarred man smiled honestly, choosing to have faith in the woman of that name. If he got the chance to see that infamous 'Tristan Venora', he'd get a chance to judge him by himself, but for the moment, Faith's opinion was enough to persuade Aeon.

"Before the battle for Andaris, I wasn't so keen on slavery, and yet while it closed one of my eyes, I feel like it opened a brand new pair for me. Faith, if you believe you are being treated rightfully, then I cannot complain about you, nor talk about taking what you know away from you. That would be even worse than a bad master." The words flew from his mouth, flew straight from his brain, out into the open world for anyone to hear them. It was his opinion, and it was true from every perspective he could see it from. Aeon believed it, so he needn't disapprove of what the woman knew and was used to.

Oh for the Seven's sake.. Aeon thought, as the woman kept making the entire situation even more complicated. "Look, name me any way you want, but please don't give me false titles. In fact, even Fred is fine with me." He wasn't a sir, and he very much so wasn't a lord. On the contrary, to most lords, he'd be a slave, considering his life was utterly worthless to most of them. It wasn't the nobles that won the war, it was the countless peasants and warriors behind them. Nobles bled just like any other man, except that they had the armor made of thousands of mortals.

Suddenly, Aeon was snapped back into the world of Idalos by Faith's words. She seemed rather excited for the fact that she was helpful, and even though the scarred squire wouldn't quite remember anything she told him about the plant, he nodded at all of the brand new information. It actually might have been useful, Aeon thought, once the words that exited the woman's mouth reached his brain. He actually might just try and remember what she told him, in case he was ever in pains like these, though the blond man hoped that day wouldn't come.

He could only feel bad for the feelings the woman had about the battle. She had absolutely nothing to do with all the injuries and deaths, and yet, Aeon did. He was in there, with the Seven presenting him a chance to end it all, and to defeat the greatest weapon the rebels had, but he failed. The subject was something that constantly made him feel sad, and his eye could show that very clearly, as it readied a tear which would never drop to the ground, considering Aeon wiped it and smiled once more.

"Faith, listen to me.. you were there, and you did your best, so there is no reason to feel guilty nor to be sorry for anything. It was even better that you helped the wounded, as getting yourself killed out there in the field would have been just stupid. Actually, I should be the one apologizing.. it was because of my inability to stop..the monster.. that so many died.." He was still smiling, though with a weigh of sadness pushing his lips downwards. It was yet another pain Aeon had to deal with, but no plant ever could sooth this one. "And now that you mention it, I would actually love some honey cakes, I haven't had any since I left Warrick." It was another weakness Aeon needed to fix about himself. Saying his thought out loud, without actually considering if it was appropriate for the conversation. .

"Well, I am not the person that owned my name once, so I cannot say for sure that I own it now." Aeon smiled, honestly believing how he needed to accept the fact that a name was something meaningless in the grand scheme of things. What were peasants to a noble even? Surely no noble could remember the names of the peasants that died under his watch, so why would those peasants have names in the first place? The same could be said about Immortals. Why did the nobles even have names, if none of the Immortals were going to remember them? The entire world was rolling like a wheel unattached to any carriage of logic.

"Alright..Velma.." It was the first name Aeon could think of during the split trill he had after the woman's words. For some reason, she just looked like a Velma. And for some other reason, that name sounded so familiar, Velma.. the scarred squire could match it perfectly with Faith's face, and yet he knew that it wasn't Faith that was Velma, it was someone whom he couldn't remember.

It was a rather difficult thing to say to the young woman. Their situations weren't that similar. They weren't similar at all. Faith did what she could, to the maximum of her abilities, and with all her heart and soul, while it wasn't like that for Aeon. The young squire knew he could've, he should've done more in the battle. It was because of his failure to stop the monster that the people of midtown suffered so much. If he tried harder. If he hadn't given into fear for those two trills, he might have been able to beat the damned thing. And if he only gave all of his heart and soul.. perhaps even Ryqos would've been alive.

"It is beautiful, all filled with green fields and farms. I grew up on a horse farm with my father, and I have to say, it was truly amazing, being so close to nature all of the time." Warrick farms were one of the best places Aeon had ever seen. Sure, the grand castles were enormous and glorious, but there was nothing even close to being among the nature, and yet within civilization at the same time, and that was what Warrick represented for him.

"So, your master..what does he do?" Aeon asked with a curious look in his eyes and a smile formed from his lips. Slowly, he realized that the question might not have been rather well-asked. "What I meant is.. not many nobles live around the cities, right? So, why does your master do it?" The scarred squire realized that the woman was now slowing down, since the house must have been somewhere close. Aeon took a look at several of the houses in the street, and none of them seemed very special, nor did any of them yell "Noble" at the first glance.