Prompt 30: In [Darkness] Keep the Truth
@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast A continuation from Prompt 25
It is sundown in the Black Shroud. Foulques and I have been in the area for most of the day, preparing for the job at Haukke Manor. We met the butler that used to serve the family living there. The story of Lady Amandine is…sad, another sour note to add to a day already filled with burrs and thorns. I regret coming to Gridania to refill supplies. They gave Foulques a hard time, and when I made it clear that I was on his side, they heckled me as well. I need to be able to make everything I need, one way or another, that I will not need to buy from them. This wood is cursed, as far as I’m concerned.
I glance back where I think I came from. Foulques is setting up the tent- or at least, I think that’s what he’s doing. That’s what he was doing last time I was there, anyways. I’m supposed to be foraging for food and for wood and fishing. The fish I already got, and the food, but the wood- I need what has fallen and it’s getting harder to see. The sun isn’t all the way down yet but I can only see faint outlines.
I should go back, but I need to get that firewood. I can’t use an aether-fire for the whole night, or I’ll have nothing to burn tomorrow- neither patience nor casting aether, and I need to be a black mage if it’s Voidsent we’re dealing with.
I hear and feel more than see the dry twigs, leaves and branches that crunch underfoot. I reach down to gather them. I cannot see what is there anymore. The sun has disappeared from the sky and what little light left is no longer enough to be of any use. I turn towards where I think our camp is and start to walk. I don’t light a fire in my hands- I don’t want to set my firewood alight, nor the forest, though sometimes I am tempted.
I am furious at the Gridanians, truth be told. But it isn’t a surprise. If the local law enforcement is so disappointing, what can I expect of the townsfolk?
“So this is where you went. You are certainly taking your sweet time.” Foulques’ voice suddenly cut through my thoughts- by scaring me half to death. It was all I could do not to drop what I gathered. It doesn’t help that his pink- or was it magenta? His eyes, they glow. All I can see are two floating pinpricks of colour above me!
“YARGH! Godsdammit, Foulques, you scared the shite outta me!”
“How?! I have been standing here, on the path, in plain view! How oblivious are you, Mingxia?!” he yelped. “And not so loud! Half the forest must have heard you!”
“I don’t know! You go invisible or something!” I squeak back.
“Every time? How do you manage to notice everything except me?! And how do you manage to get this lost? The camp is behind you!” he responded. I hear a rustle and a clink. Maybe he crossed his arms. I don’t know. I can’t see.
The steps stop. I bump into something hard and rough- a tree. “Your lack of direction continues to amaze me. …Where are you going? Camp is this way.”
I look up, trying to find the pink specks of light and the direction of the voice. I can’t even find those anymore, as the last of the light disappears. “I don’t know.” I try to go where his voice is, but bump into something else- another tree.
“Stop moving. What is the matter, Mingxia?” Foulques’ voice got louder- he’s coming towards me but I can’t hear his steps. He really is at home here. I suppose it won’t do me any good to try to pass for normal anymore.
“That is hardly a surprise. It is night, and you are a Hyur-” he starts to say.
“No. I-I can’t see anything. I’m night-blind. The only reason I can follow you is because right now I can hear you, but if you stop talking I can’t follow you anymore. Your steps make no sound, and are so light I can’t feel them, and I cannot see your eyes.” I grit my teeth. It feels awful having to say it. I went for so long like this and now-
I felt a warm pressure on my arm. “Well, come on then,” he says, plucking some of what I found out of my hands. “Follow me.”
I stumble after him- and then give up trying to be careful, lengthening my own stride to keep up with his. He wouldn’t walk me into a log, I’m pretty sure. Well, it could be worse, I suppose. I could be smaller. He could be an enemy.
Eventually I hear the flapping of the tent cloth, and not a moment too soon. The air is charged, and it’s making my hair stand up. Lightning. There is a storm on the way- no, it would be upon us in moments. The air smells heavy. The firewood wouldn’t be much use like this.
“Do you smell that?” I ask as thunder roars.
“Yes.” There was another tug on my arm, and I felt the canvas on my face as he pulled me inside. “It would be best if we both took shelter.”
Not even a minute later, heavy rain hammers down on the tent. I can catch glimpses of the tent walls whenever lightning flashes. I deposit everything but the fish in a corner- I freeze that just like how Mama taught me and set it in a different spot. I go to the middle of the tent and sit down.
Foulques must be sitting too. I can feel his back against my own.
“It’s a shame it rained when it did. I was looking forward to your grilled fish, Foulques. You make it better than I do, and I came from a fishing village.”
“…Thank you for getting me out of there, by the way.” I try again.
“It would be troublesome to let you go wandering around there until morning,” he replies curtly.
I tuck my knees into my chest. “I guess so. Still. Thank you. You…you’re really reliable.”
“You put too much faith in me,” he answers gruffly.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree then. You have more than earned it. Most people would have taken advantage of my blindness, but you led me back here instead.” I lean back against him and stare at another patch of darkness somewhere above. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“That would depend on what it is,” he shifts against my back. I can feel his mail digging into me but I don’t care much.
“Why are they like that? I know Gridanians are cagey but they were just…so rude. Worse than usual, even with how racist they are.”
“You don’t have to answer if I’m too nosy.”
“…I will only tell this story once. I was once an upright citizen of Gridania, and a man of the Lancer’s Guild. Yet life was not easy. For want of the coin to obtain the barest necessities, I conspired with my closest comrades to steal from the guild’s coffers. The theft soon came to light, and though there were no suspects, it was clear that the deed was perpetrated by someone within the ranks. An air of suspicion hung heavy over the guild from that day forth, until at last, unable to bear the guilt, I convinced my comrades to join me in confessing, only for them to bite their craven tongues after I stepped forward and admitted my part of the crime. And so it was I alone that took the blame. ‘Of course it was the Duskwight,’ everyone said. ‘Was there any doubt?’ It all made perfect sense.” He leans back against me. “Despite my heartfelt pleas, my friends denied any involvement. Instead they called me vulgar names that I do not care to repeat. …Would that I had the strength to force the truth out from those traitors! Would that I had the courage to escape the dungeon cell, even if it meant taking some hapless guard’s life.”
“…” I struggle to find my voice and cool the burn in my eyes. That’s why. That’s why. But this place, this whole place, it’s-!
“You must think the same of me,” he says, a defensive edge to his voice.
“No. Normally I might say you had the choice and you chose to steal, and I don’t think stealing is right but…it’s the Black Shroud. Just to live, you would have to become a criminal. Steal coin, and you are a thief, hunt or forage and you are a poacher. You had no choice. And still you uphold your honour, still you came and tried to offer your wisdom, even though most of my guildmates aren’t ready for your way of teaching. Still you come and train me and have me thin the wolves with you to keep the townsfolk safe. You are more upstanding than I am. I have already abandoned them.” I turn my head towards him even though I can’t see a thing.
“Liar. I know how you work, adventurer,” he remarks.
“Perhaps. I am ill-inclined to lend my hands here more than I must.” I look up. The rain is slowing and I reach back to find his arm. “I’m in darkness. Race is irrelevant. Job is irrelevant. I only know that it’s raining, and I’m in good hands. More than I can say of the city with all of its comforts.”
“You are a strange one, Mingxia.” He says nothing more. We lean against each other, and for a moment, simply exist. It goes without saying that what is spoken in the tent stays in it.
