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In the span of six hours, they had gone from conquering heroes to smelly low-lives being thrown out of town as if they had the plague. All that had been missing from the occasion was a mob of peasants with torches and pitchforks.
Unclean and smelling of vomit, blood, and piss, the trio shambled away from the outskirts of Zamara. A few minutes earlier, Jaina and Seventeen had stood silently at the cemetery gate as Beatrix had gone inside to bid farewell to her late husband. While the cyborg was sure there was a big story connected to the sad scene of the drunken killer sobbing gently over the headstone, he didn’t think he was qualified to ask for any of the details.
“Can I ask how he died?” Seventeen whispered as he glanced over at Jaina.
The white-haired woman—her features still marred by grime, soot, and scratches—frowned softly as she turned her eyes to her grieving companion. “There was a plague in these parts years ago.” She whispered so softly that the words could barely be heard over the still wind of the night. “It was a year or so before I moved out here from Arcadia. It was a nasty one… killed the strong and the weak. Killed people in their prime of their lives just as often as it did those in their twilight years. Vladimir hung on for months. They had been together before marriage for a long time, and she stood by him and cared for him as he wasted away. She has days where she is happy and cobbled together, but I imagine the real Beatrix died alongside the man in that coffin.”
Seventeen nodded his head as he watched Beatrix gently pick herself up from against the gravestone. The woman, her eyes red for myriad reasons, brushed away the tears and straightened out her ruffled clothes as she traversed the pathway back to her companions. “Let us leave this place,” she spoke as she started toward the unpaved road that led further into the lands that bordered Zamara. “We paid for the mounts, so we’ll steal them if need be. The situation can’t become any worse than it already has.”
The cyborg once again pictured the angry mob of pitchfork-donning peasants, but he spoke nothing on the subject. Instead, he found himself pondering another detail. “What about you fancy underground hideout?”
Jaina grinned—the first sign of joy to momentarily flash across her face in the hours since the tribunal. “Rue to the fool who tries to break their way into that place.” She muttered as a pale-faced Beatrix pantomimed an explosion with her grimy fingers.
“I suppose that’d be a nice going away present for the town,” Seventeen replied with a half-hearted chuckle as the trio made a long circuit around the wooded outskirts of town. The stable hands were nowhere to be seen, so they faced no opposition as they collected their trio of animals and made for the trees. Just to be certain no one would stalk them from Zamara, they had decided to cut a path through the forest itself for at least a day’s worth of travel. Once they were nearer to the edge of Laconia, they could transition back to the traveler and merchant routes that were usually maintained and serviced for the passage of animals and wagons.
Despite soreness in their muscles and throbbing in their headaches, no member of the three brought up the idea of sleeping on this night.
Instead, they ploughed onward through the forest until the new sun broke up above the tree line. While the ground was often uneven and dotted with detritus, the pair of horses and the chocobo were more than equipped to navigate the terrain. Beatrix had remarked at one point that these animals had been trained for war, hence their hardiness and ability to march through the forest. Aside from that unprompted explanation, they shared little conversation that day. Between migraines and mixed emotions about their exodus from Zamara, none of them felt in the mood to converse. Hell, Seventeen was still uncertain whether or not he was going to blink and discover he had been in Kansas all along.
When the sun set later that day, they managed to steal some food for themselves and the animals from a small farm. There wasn’t much honor in the act, but none of them were feeling in the mood to bargain with some peasant for wheat and corn. With the animals tethered safely to trees, they slept back-to-back in the shadows of a large oak grove. That same procedure followed the next four days as well, although they managed to find a natural space for the animals to graze once they were
At the start of their fifth or sixth day of travel (with no watch, the cyborg eventually started to lose track of time entirely), the trio started due south, still traversing the heavy terrain of the woods. Jaina, breaking what felt like a day and a half period of silence, mentioned that there should be a river half a day’s travel in that direction. Since Seventeen had no idea where they were and Beatrix had long since forgotten much of the landscape this far from Zamara, they offered no resistance to the plan.
When they found the river at midday, the trio let the animals stretch and drink as they turned to washing off what felt like weeks’ worth of dirt. Abandoning some of their heavier and more soiled accessories, the trio departed from the river after a few hours of something almost close to relaxation. In that time, Seventeen had managed to craft a makeshift fishing pole, although he succeeded in doing absolutely nothing with it. Food had come in the form of some small animals that Beatrix had tracked and slain.
“Any idea where we are, Jaina?” Seventeen had asked once they were mounted and traveling west along the river.
“No,” she muttered after pursing her lips together for a few minutes. “I can’t even remember the name of this river, but it should take us to some sort of local road.”
Near the end of the that day, the trio found a simple bridge over the river. The cobblestone construction was linked to the closest thing to a county road you can find in the wilderness—bare dirt marked with grooves from wheels and dotted with the hooves of pack animals.
“We travel west,” Jaina whispered as she pointed to the far side of the bridge. “Further into the Hinterlands. This route should take us to some sort of settlement, far removed from Laconia and Zamara.”
“We should make a formal camp,” Beatrix replied. “We’ve been pushing ourselves for a few days, and it might be best to rest and recharge. I might speak for only myself, but I thoroughly enjoyed our stay at the riverside.” About two days after Zamara, Beatrix had discarded her flask. If that hadn't been an indicator that her reservoir of booze had dried up, the personal hell she endured later that day told the truth. That night, she had descended in an extreme state of duress, and Seventeen had been afraid her screams of withdrawal would bring some primal predatory straight to the tree they had slept beneath. While nothing had murdered them, the woman’s frail shrieks and frothing seizures were still burned in his mind. Since then, Beatrix had spoke without mixing her words and rode without needing occasional correction in her saddle. Even so, there seemed to be something missing from the woman once she had sobered up. Her eyes were clearer, but there was no fire in them. They had a yawning emptiness in them. She spoke clear words but they sounded hollow and devoid of passion.
“Makes sense,” the cyborg replied as the three directed the animals back toward the riverbed. They had passed what seemed to be a clearing a mile or so back, and that would be as good a spot as any to make ‘camp’.
Unclean and smelling of vomit, blood, and piss, the trio shambled away from the outskirts of Zamara. A few minutes earlier, Jaina and Seventeen had stood silently at the cemetery gate as Beatrix had gone inside to bid farewell to her late husband. While the cyborg was sure there was a big story connected to the sad scene of the drunken killer sobbing gently over the headstone, he didn’t think he was qualified to ask for any of the details.
“Can I ask how he died?” Seventeen whispered as he glanced over at Jaina.
The white-haired woman—her features still marred by grime, soot, and scratches—frowned softly as she turned her eyes to her grieving companion. “There was a plague in these parts years ago.” She whispered so softly that the words could barely be heard over the still wind of the night. “It was a year or so before I moved out here from Arcadia. It was a nasty one… killed the strong and the weak. Killed people in their prime of their lives just as often as it did those in their twilight years. Vladimir hung on for months. They had been together before marriage for a long time, and she stood by him and cared for him as he wasted away. She has days where she is happy and cobbled together, but I imagine the real Beatrix died alongside the man in that coffin.”
Seventeen nodded his head as he watched Beatrix gently pick herself up from against the gravestone. The woman, her eyes red for myriad reasons, brushed away the tears and straightened out her ruffled clothes as she traversed the pathway back to her companions. “Let us leave this place,” she spoke as she started toward the unpaved road that led further into the lands that bordered Zamara. “We paid for the mounts, so we’ll steal them if need be. The situation can’t become any worse than it already has.”
The cyborg once again pictured the angry mob of pitchfork-donning peasants, but he spoke nothing on the subject. Instead, he found himself pondering another detail. “What about you fancy underground hideout?”
Jaina grinned—the first sign of joy to momentarily flash across her face in the hours since the tribunal. “Rue to the fool who tries to break their way into that place.” She muttered as a pale-faced Beatrix pantomimed an explosion with her grimy fingers.
“I suppose that’d be a nice going away present for the town,” Seventeen replied with a half-hearted chuckle as the trio made a long circuit around the wooded outskirts of town. The stable hands were nowhere to be seen, so they faced no opposition as they collected their trio of animals and made for the trees. Just to be certain no one would stalk them from Zamara, they had decided to cut a path through the forest itself for at least a day’s worth of travel. Once they were nearer to the edge of Laconia, they could transition back to the traveler and merchant routes that were usually maintained and serviced for the passage of animals and wagons.
***
Despite soreness in their muscles and throbbing in their headaches, no member of the three brought up the idea of sleeping on this night.
Instead, they ploughed onward through the forest until the new sun broke up above the tree line. While the ground was often uneven and dotted with detritus, the pair of horses and the chocobo were more than equipped to navigate the terrain. Beatrix had remarked at one point that these animals had been trained for war, hence their hardiness and ability to march through the forest. Aside from that unprompted explanation, they shared little conversation that day. Between migraines and mixed emotions about their exodus from Zamara, none of them felt in the mood to converse. Hell, Seventeen was still uncertain whether or not he was going to blink and discover he had been in Kansas all along.
When the sun set later that day, they managed to steal some food for themselves and the animals from a small farm. There wasn’t much honor in the act, but none of them were feeling in the mood to bargain with some peasant for wheat and corn. With the animals tethered safely to trees, they slept back-to-back in the shadows of a large oak grove. That same procedure followed the next four days as well, although they managed to find a natural space for the animals to graze once they were
At the start of their fifth or sixth day of travel (with no watch, the cyborg eventually started to lose track of time entirely), the trio started due south, still traversing the heavy terrain of the woods. Jaina, breaking what felt like a day and a half period of silence, mentioned that there should be a river half a day’s travel in that direction. Since Seventeen had no idea where they were and Beatrix had long since forgotten much of the landscape this far from Zamara, they offered no resistance to the plan.
When they found the river at midday, the trio let the animals stretch and drink as they turned to washing off what felt like weeks’ worth of dirt. Abandoning some of their heavier and more soiled accessories, the trio departed from the river after a few hours of something almost close to relaxation. In that time, Seventeen had managed to craft a makeshift fishing pole, although he succeeded in doing absolutely nothing with it. Food had come in the form of some small animals that Beatrix had tracked and slain.
“Any idea where we are, Jaina?” Seventeen had asked once they were mounted and traveling west along the river.
“No,” she muttered after pursing her lips together for a few minutes. “I can’t even remember the name of this river, but it should take us to some sort of local road.”
Near the end of the that day, the trio found a simple bridge over the river. The cobblestone construction was linked to the closest thing to a county road you can find in the wilderness—bare dirt marked with grooves from wheels and dotted with the hooves of pack animals.
“We travel west,” Jaina whispered as she pointed to the far side of the bridge. “Further into the Hinterlands. This route should take us to some sort of settlement, far removed from Laconia and Zamara.”
“We should make a formal camp,” Beatrix replied. “We’ve been pushing ourselves for a few days, and it might be best to rest and recharge. I might speak for only myself, but I thoroughly enjoyed our stay at the riverside.” About two days after Zamara, Beatrix had discarded her flask. If that hadn't been an indicator that her reservoir of booze had dried up, the personal hell she endured later that day told the truth. That night, she had descended in an extreme state of duress, and Seventeen had been afraid her screams of withdrawal would bring some primal predatory straight to the tree they had slept beneath. While nothing had murdered them, the woman’s frail shrieks and frothing seizures were still burned in his mind. Since then, Beatrix had spoke without mixing her words and rode without needing occasional correction in her saddle. Even so, there seemed to be something missing from the woman once she had sobered up. Her eyes were clearer, but there was no fire in them. They had a yawning emptiness in them. She spoke clear words but they sounded hollow and devoid of passion.
“Makes sense,” the cyborg replied as the three directed the animals back toward the riverbed. They had passed what seemed to be a clearing a mile or so back, and that would be as good a spot as any to make ‘camp’.