Chapter Text
In retrospect, it had been a mistake to leave Meridian for a “public relations tour” of the remote settlements of the kingdom. Blameless Marad had advised against leaving the city while bandits and rogue Eclipse prowled the outskirts of the Sundom, even more so since Avad insisted on him to stay behind and handle the daily mundane in his absence, but the Sun-King hadn’t listened and insisted on his travel plans to the more rural areas of the Sundom. There were still too many of his subjects with wavering loyalty, who didn’t trust the new king yet to bring about a new dawn after the liberation of Meridian. How could they, when he remained oblivious of their daily struggles, living far away in decadent luxury and hiding in the safety of the Sun Palace? But these poorer settlements were just as much a part of the kingdom of the sun as the capital, and the lower peasants deserved every bit the same attention, protection and gratitude of the Sun-King for their sacrifices in these changing times as the noble houses paying their way into Avad’s good graces.
But he would be lying if he claimed that the journey wasn’t also an excuse to get away from his royal cage for a while, to get away from the golden shackles weighing down his steps and the strict royal protocols breathing down his neck. Needless to say, he also needed a breather from the annoying nobles constantly haggling over the king's attention and their share of Meridian’s fortune.
The tour of the settlements did go overall smoothly without any cause for concern except when some disgruntled peasants tried to throw rotten fruit at the king, but on the way home to Meridian, Avad’s caravan was attacked by bandits. His brave guards were helplessly outnumbered and slaughtered in the ambush, as well as his unarmed servants. Even though he knew how to wield a sword, Avad had never been as good a fighter as his late older brother Kadaman and was of little use during the brutal attack and mostly tried not to get in the way of those knowing what they were doing.
Unfortunately, his soldiers’ bravery wasn’t enough to stop the attackers and Avad ended up being taken prisoner by the ruthless bandits, most likely with the intent to get a large ransom for the king’s life or sell him to slavers.
His royal armor and fine Carja silk garments were torn into rags and his crown was ripped from his head and thrown into the dirt when he was yanked to his feet among the butchered corpses of his guards and servants that some of the greedy bandits looted for items of value, ammo and jewelry and anything else worth stealing from the dead without any sense of remorse. Looking around the carnage, Avad had little hope one of the soldiers had managed to escape to seek help from one of the Sun army’s outposts scattered across the countryside.
It looked like for the first time in his life, Avad was truly on his own and no one would come to save him.
His hands were bound painfully tight with a coarse rope sliding into the tender skin of his wrists before he was shoved forward and dragged down the road by his captivators. They traveled for hours through the remote desert beyond the Way of the Broken Steps, to avoid any patrols frequenting the route, and the stinking bandits showed little restraint in showing their disdain for the Sun-King. Avad was punched, laughed, spit and pissed at, with rough hands groping him repeatedly in inappropriate ways on the way to degrade him until they reached the bandits’ remote stronghold located hidden in the desert between ragged sandstone ranges and canyons. The camp itself consisted mainly of crudely built fencing, crumbling ruins and ramshackle buildings made of jagged wood and metal. Avad sucked in a tense breath as they passed the gate into the primal encampment and his eyes caught the waving banners painted with monstrous symbols and grimaces flying overhead and the slings made from machine cables hanging low over the entrance in warning, one of them he worried he might find around his neck soon enough.
He was thrown into a filthy wooden shed with patches of dark blood having dried on the dirty floor telling gruesome stories of the unfortunate endings of the previous prisoners. It was dark in the small shed, with the only light coming from a few sparse rays of sunlight slipping through the cracks in the roof and the walls. The foul stench of piss and decay hovering in the stall air made Avad’s stomach turn with nausea and he couldn’t stop himself from vomiting into one of the corners of his new cage. The bandits watched him, laughing at his misery and taunting him with humiliating jokes and mean threats before they slammed the makeshift door of the shed shut on him.
“That’s the guy that killed the Mad King? His own father?”
“I thought he would be taller. More of a fighter, not such a patsy!”
“Pathetic.”
A stocky and particularly nasty looking bandit stayed behind to leer at him through the gaps in the wooden door, looking at him like a hungry predator drooling at fat meat while scratching his crotch. “I’m going to have some fun before we get rid of him. Make the false Sun-King squeal like a pig,” the scoundrel boasted at his comrades, licking his lips and blaring rows of rotten teeth at Avad in a disgusting grin.
The king paled, the words twisting his stomach and sending a cold shiver of dread down his spine though he tried his best not to let his fear show too much on his face and trying to keep the little dignity he still had left. Showing weakness wouldn’t save him, panicking wouldn’t keep him alive and he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut, knowing every wrong word could provoke the bandits into action. Maybe he could find a way to bargain for his life later with a more reasonable - or bribable - member of the clan, but even alone and in filthy rags, he tried to keep his head held high - a Sun-King shall never beg and he certainly wasn’t going to beg for his life with these ruthless bandits!
After hours of being locked up in the dark hutch with barely any sunlight passing through the cracks in the wooden slats to determine how much time had passed, though he assumed it had to be close to dusk by now, and having to hear his captivators continue to boast about all the horrible things they wanted to do to the king before selling him off, Avad was feeling the adrenalin from the attack wear off, slowly giving way to his growing anxious despair, leaving his bruised body shaking all over. His hands were still bound and his wrists were chafed and hurting from the tight rope, his empty stomach eating itself and at the same time revolting at the thought of eating the stipes of foul, maggot infested meat the bandits had thrown into his cage some time ago. He ruffled his disheveled hair in frustration, suppressing a choked sob, trying to calm his fluttering nerves by silently reciting the verses of the Sun Prayers and trying to think of an escape plan.
There were too many bandits, at least over a dozen, in the camp for him to fight his way out on his own even if he were a better fighter, but maybe with a distraction capturing the horde’s attention, he could slip away unnoticed. The only problem was, how was he supposed to start a diversion from being locked inside the shed?
For once Avad was thankful for the Derangement that has been plaguing the Sundom for 20 years and prayed for a machine attack at the right moment - for a lone Ravager to cause havoc in the bandit camp - or even a set of Red Eyed Watchers would be sufficient as a distraction. He pressed close to the back wall of the shed and gazed through one of the cracks in the wood at the longed-for freedom waiting beyond, so close yet out of his reach. There was no machine in sight, quickly evaporating his hopes of a diversion.
If only he had a sword or axe or some other tools, he could try to hack his way through the rotten wood when the bandits were drunk and fell asleep…
A sudden blurry movement outside caught Avad’s attention. He squinted his eyes to sharpen his sight to make sure it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks on him in the dimming light of the day, but no, there it was again, a flash of movement at the edge of the narrow canyon leading to the camp, barely visible in the dust-filled air. A lone figure dressed in what appeared to be Carja hunters gear appeared out of nowhere, the headpiece with the red feathers blending perfectly with the crimson blades of tall grass swaying in the dry desert wind. Moving with purpose, the figure, the man crept slowly closer through patches of grass and dried scrub, moving swiftly and silently like a shadow between boulders and Ridge-Wood without the sentinels of the camp noticing the unexpected intruder. Avad wouldn’t have noticed the man either if he hadn’t already been looking in his general direction by chance. His pulse quickened as he hurried from one peephole in the wood of his cage to another so that he wouldn’t lose sight of the hunter, his eyes following the stranger’s trail down the slope leading to the camp, new hopes of a rescue soaring to sky.
The hunter took out the two sentinels posted on the watch towers by the gate with clean headshots from his bow, the bandits collapsing with no sound, then the man started a full-on attack on the camp before the rest of the bandits having been drinking and arguing by the cooking fire had even time to react. The bandits started to scream, jumping around startled like a herd of Grazers when slayed bandits fell to the ground left and right, some dead in an instant, others choking on their blood. Fire broke out in one part of the camp, smoke filled the air, the shed. The bandits that were still alive grabbed their weapons, swarmed out and tried to locate the unknown shooter while another hail of quickly but precisely fired arrows rained down on them, each shot taking out one bandit after the next, not a single arrowhead seemed to miss its intended target. The hunter was quick on his feet, seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once, elusive like a phantom moving through smoke and shadows. If Avad hadn’t known better, he would have suspected a whole squad behind the attack on the camp, hardly believing his own eyes telling him it was a single hunter daring to take on a bandit stronghold of this size all by himself - and winning!
The fight was over as quickly as it had begun, no one escaping the hunter’s swift wrath with his artistic arrow shots and masterful swings of his sharp sabel in close combat until the hunter had slain every breathing soul in the camp expect for Avad still locked up in his cage - efficient, strategic like a soldier, merciless but not excessively brutal. The lone stranger might be a killer but not a mindless butcher. Besides, Avad found little remorse for the deadly fate of the thugs after they showed not an ounce of mercy to his servants, his guards and shade knew how many innocent lives.
The sun had seen their sins and judged them true.
“Disappointing. I’d hoped for more of a fight,” the nameless hunter sighed as his gaze darted around the camp to examine his work.
Avad pressed closer to the door, staring through the cracks in the wood with his heart thundering in his chest, eyes glued to the motion of the man’s muscles as he rolled his shoulders to release the tension from his body. He snatched up a rag from a crate to clean his sable dripping of bandit blood and started to pull reusable arrows out of the corpses to put them back in his quiver while he strolled through the silent and dead camp.
Well, mostly dead.
One of the bandits was still alive after all, barely alive to be more precise, lying in a growing puddle of dark blood seeping from his deadly wounds and coughing his last rattling breaths from perforated lungs filling with fluid. The hunter knelt beside the wounded bandit, but showed no intention of helping the dying man or granting him the mercy of a quick death, not even when the man reached for the hunter with a trembling hand that was swatted away like a fly. Instead of helping the hunter merely loomed over the bandit to watch, with intense pale eyes digesting every detail in morbid fascination but seemingly left untouched by the agony of the dying man lying by his feet, watching the last fraction of life drain out of the pathetically whimpering and weakly rasping thug in leisure like one would watch an entertaining stage play or curious experiment. The bandit choked on his own blood one last time before he went completely still, the hand that’d been trying to reach for the hunter’s mercy sacking limp to the ground. Satisfied with what he witnessed, the stranger hummed in approval, the last bit of tension easing out of his body as he sighed with an almost serene expression softening his features, his eyes closing for a beat as if to cherish the moment a little longer.
Avad frowned, unsure of what he just witnessed and wondering why he didn’t feel more unsettled and repulsed by the hunter’s odd behaviour. Throughout the long years of his father’s horrifying reign, Avad had to witness all kinds of atrocities in the Sun-Ring, plenty of men in service of the Mad Sun-King doing far worse, indulging in the joys of killing innocent people in the most depraved and perverted ways, with the Red Raids having given the worst of the worst free reign to indulge in their sadistic bloodlust without the fear of consequences, but unlike so many Carja, Avad had never been able to close his heart or look away from the injustice, had mourned every sacrifice in the Sun-Ring with honest tears. The brutal violence the lone hunter rained down on the bandits should appall him in the same way, but he couldn’t help a morbid curiosity stirring inside him.
The man had just saved his life, who was Avad to judge his character without speaking a word first?
“I didn’t know I had an audience.”
Without warning, the hunter’s head whipped in Avad’s direction. His gaze locked on the king hiding behind the wooden bars with the same precision and intense focus like the optical sensors of a machine catching its prey. Somehow, with his keen senses, the hunter had noticed the king’s presence hidden in the dark shed - or Avad must have made some involuntary sound that caught the man’s attention. The hunter rose to his feet in a fluid motion and he sauntered over, a slight swagger in his steps as he casually stepped over bodies like taking a pleasant stroll in the palace gardens. Avad stumbled backwards but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The door creaked open and in the next moment the hunter stood before him, his tall build and broad shoulders filling the doorframe so there was no way for Avad to get past him. The man looked him up and down, taking in his battered appearance with lifted eyebrows judging in silence, his expression mostly impassive but with a faint amused glint in his eyes as pale as moonlight. Pretty, in that dangerous kind of way that Marad would warn the king about.
If the stranger recognized Avad for who he was as the bandits had, he didn’t comment on it, maybe he simply didn’t care standing in the presence of the supposedly Speaker of the Sun. Avad, on the other hand, felt his stomach drop and a nervous flutter fill his chest. His neck prickled with heat, his skin itching. He longed for a bath to scrub away the layers of grime, dried sweat and blood, longed for his servants to help him fix his appearance, a part of him feeling humiliated being seen by the hunter in such an unruly and wretched state, so very unroyal and unsuitable for a man of his heritage and rank. As a Sun-King he was expected to look as flawless and regal as possible at any moment, was always supposed to be on his best behavior, an illuminating example shining brightly as the holy Sun that had chosen him as its speaker, but he was neither flawless nor illuminating standing in dirty rags in the dimlit shed, more like a helpless beggar instead of a mighty king, and the man standing before him studying him with cold pale eyes, made him feel the difference between what he was and what he should be more sharply.
Avad wasn’t sure what to make of his unexpected saviour and he felt all kinds of nervous the longer those piercing eyes were trained on him for a variety of reasons, fearing the man could strip away his royal demeanor and lay bare his core that he kept well hidden in the palace with one well placed glance. Sure, the man saved Avad’s life by killing all those bandits but that didn’t mean the king was in less danger in the hands of someone of unknown loyalties and intentions, making the king hesitate to leave the shed even after the hunter stepped aside and gestured that he was free to go.
If Marad was here, he would surely advise Avad against associating with such a dubious creature, but the spymaster was far away in Meridian and not here to talk sense into an unfledged young king, so Avad could only follow his instincts and his gut told him to be cautious of the hunter but at the same time urged him to stick to the other man’s side for a variety of reasons, not all of them reasonable. It was confusing, it defied common sense, nevertheless Avad didn’t have much of a choice, did he? He needed to get back to Meridian, but he doubted he could find his way back on his own - he’s never been outside the palace without guards, never had to defend himself against machines. Out here, he was easy prey and he needed to trust the hunter to return him safely to Meridian, but trust went both ways and how was he supposed to gain a man’s trust while huddling in a stinking cage like a coward?
Taking a breath and straightening his spine, Avad crossed the threshold into the light. The setting sun irritated his eyes after hours in the half-dark and he rubbed his hands over his dirty face, noticing his wrists were still bound together with rope, the rough material having cut deep into his skin and making him wince. What a pitiful sight he had to give, yet he held his head high the way he’s been taught since early age. Avad cleared his throat and turned towards the hunter who ignored him, having returned to examine the dead bodies but turned and tilted his head to study him with an unreadable expression once Avad started to speak. Did he gauge Avad in the same sense as the king did with him, trying to figure out what to do with him? Most likely.
“You have my gratitude, my friend,” Avad said, holding out his bound hands with pleading eyes. “If you would be so kind to untie me?”
After his vision had adjusted to the different lighting, he could finally take a better look at his mysterious savior as the man stood from his crouch to his full height - he had the light but slightly tanned complexion of someone who must have spent most of the time away from the sun up until recently, and the man was undeniably handsome with chiseled features, a short trimmed black facial hair and light blue eyes so pale they looked almost silver, the rare kind of eyes Avad had only seen on one other person he rather not thought about. Black khol markings resembling a single tear graced each of his cheek and the Carja hunter garment the man wore was fitted for him, purple silk pants and a velvet red vest embroidered with metal shards hanging open over a broad chest. His muscular arms and thighs were covered in greaves and vambraces made from machine parts for protection. A loose red silken scarf hung around the man’s neck, matching with the headdress made of machine parts and red feathers that crowned his head to complete the outfit.
Avad tried not delve on the reason why he took stock of the man in such excruciating detail, tried not to stare and fluster at the enticing sight of the man’s bare chest, tried to ignore the way his stomach clenched at the sudden most inappropriate desire to have a taste of that smooth skin over firm muscles glistening with beads of sweat, at the thought of licking a stripe from the man’s navel up to his neck, to find out what kind of reaction that action would elicit. The king froze when the nameless stranger moved closer and pulled a knife from his belt, a little too close for Avad’s liking given the circumstances, standing surrounded by slaughtered bandits. Despite his own lack of proper clothing after his rough handing by his captivators and being used to the typical Carja sense of exhibitionism, the Sun-King felt his cheeks heat as the hunter entered his personal space without a care for courtesies, royal or whatsoever, almost brushing against him. The man was as tall as Avad, a few inches taller even and far more ripped than the Sun-King, intimidating and alluring at the same time. He could probably wrestle and pin Avad to the ground without breaking a sweat, should he choose so, and for a split ludicrous notion, Avad wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.
The hunter snatched his bound wrists in a firm grip, his touch burning as he pushed Avad’s hands lower between their bodies so that his fingers brushed against the man’s smooth belt buckle made from a diamond-shaped machine shard. The hunter stared Avad straight in the eye and held his gaze with a dangerous glint in his keen eyes, holding him still with one hand while the other lifted his knife. Avad tensed and held his breath when the sharp edge of the blade slid slowly between his wrists, the cold metal of the blade grazing his skin in a delicate, almost intimate way as the hunter moved the knife beneath the thick threads and then cut the rope with a quick slice. Avad gasped and exhaled in relief as the rough material fell to the ground. He rubbed his bruised wrists, smiling gratefully but his expression faltered and grew awkward upon noticing the other man made no move to step away, his vicinity making Avad’s nerves flutter for a different reason than fear of the possibility of the knife that had cut the ropes returning to cut his skin. He caught a whiff of the man’s odor and found himself swaying a little on his feet, involuntarily leaning closer to breath in more of the peculiar scent. The hunter smelled of fresh sweat, cold ash and dried blood - from his targets, not his own - a combination of flavors that was to be expected but should have been revolting, yet it did the opposite and lured him closer to taste more of the underlying musk on his tongue, the desire to brush his nose against the crook of the hunter’s neck, to breath in deeply and making the man shiver consuming his thoughts.
It was just gratitude for his rescue, Avad told himself, sensing the shameful lie like bile on his tongue. He’s never felt the urge to do the same with any of his Vanguard or soldiers protecting him on the battlefield of the Liberation.
The hunter must have caught Avad’s reaction judging by the look on his face, the raised eyebrows and loopside grin. He spun the knife between nimble fingers, then tilted his head to the side in a lazy fashion, craning his neck in a way that felt teasing and far too sensual while standing in the open among fresh corpses, the long column of his throat exposed like bait, all the while watching through lidded eyes, waiting to see if the king would take the bait.
Avad wetted his lips, his mind spinning, confused by the man’s antics, wondering if the hunter expected a personal reward for saving him and if showing his gratitude with a kiss would be so wrong, not that anyone was there to judge him for it except for the dead. His eyes trailed down the man’s neck, enamored by the way the throat moved with each swallow. He resisted whatever misplaced pull tried to grab a hold of him and remembering their inappropriate closeness unsuitable for a monarch and an unfamiliar subject of dubious reputation and remembering his royal manners, he took a step back to put a more safe and respectable distance between them. The hunter narrowed his eyes, pale eyes flashing in the setting sun like molten machine steel, the shadow of disappointment darkening his face, though he seemed little surprised by the king’s move.
Avad cleared his throat to break the silence starting to feel more awkward by the second. “Can you tell me where we are and how far it is to the next outpost of the Sun’s forces?” he asked but leaving out any explanation about the reason for his rushing. Again, there was no telling if the hunter recognized the Sun-King or dismissed him as just a random noble caught in the wrong place of the Sundom at the wrong time. With his crown missing, his golden armor with the royal sigil damaged and his expensive silk garments dirty and torn, he looked more like a beggar than a king anyway. He couldn’t hide his noble heritage, not in the way he held himself and spoke or in other mannerisms clearly giving him away, but maybe he could still pretend to be someone he was not, at least until he was sure the hunter wouldn’t stab him in the back the moment he found out the truth.
“I am Fashav from the noble house Shah Taveer from Meridian,” Avad lied, using the name of his long missing cousin, the first that came to his mind. It wasn’t the most common name in the Sundom but still more common than Avad and his cousin not such a prominent member of the Radiant line that many people outside the capital knew about their family relation.
“Fashav?” The hunter chuckled, clicking his tongue and looking at the king in a way that made Avad suspect the man knew he was lying, yet he seemed willing to play along. He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “And what are you doing this far away from Meridian, Fashav Shah Taveer?”
Avad hastily thought of a plausible cover. “Traveling.” He folded his hands in front of his chest like it was custom for Sun-Kings but immediately dropped them the moment he realized what he was doing. “For academic studies. The bandits assaulted my caravan and abducted me.”
“A fellow traveler? How interesting.”
“And may I ask your name?” Avad asked. “Unless you prefer me to call you hunter.”
“Call me Nil,” was the hunter’s curt answer.
No family name, nor title. It was an even less common name in the Sundom than Avad - and most possibly just as fake as Avad calling himself Fashav.
The hunter pointed over his shoulder. “We’re at the edge of the Gatelands, to answer your other question, somewhere south of Lone Light,” he spoke, his voice deep and velvet, almost melodic and with a faint but distinctive familiar accent. Nil had to be from Meridian as well.
Lone Light?
Avad’s mind swirled as he gazed into the distance, beyond the camp’s gate and makeshift fences, attempting to recall the memory of the exact location of the settlement mentioned on the grand map hanging in the royal library. As a child, he had sat on the floor studying the map for hours with shining eyes full of the innocent excitement and wonder of the youth, thinking about all the exotic faraway places he would visit once he was older, within and outside of the Sundom’s borders, but the furthest Avad had ever travelled from Meridian was the southern outskirts of the Claim when he’d sought help from Oseram Freebooters to end his father’s cruel reign and stop the Red Raids. He’s never made it to all the other exotic places he’d dreamed about seeing as a child, neither to the Savage East nor the Forbidden West and with all his obligations as Sun-King, he doubted he would ever get the chance to travel the world like he always wanted to.
Maybe this, finding his way back home, was the only adventure he would ever get to have in this lifetime…
“That means the next outpost has to be… Day’s Height?” Avad followed up to be sure since the stranger seemed to know the area a lot better than him.
“A day’s march, give or take,” Nil replied with a nod while he marched through the camp and gathered the rest of the arrows from the dead until his quiver was bursting with ammo. Avad hurried to keep up with his steps and not lose sight of the man around the crumbling ruins and ramshackle huts. Though it was unlikely more bandits would arrive to avenge their fallen comrades any time soon, Avad rather not risked being caught on his own.
If Day’s Height was one day away, that meant Meridian could be reached by foot in approximately a week…
New hope brightened Avad’s features, his exhaustion and worries forgotten for a moment as he started to head for the gate, eager to leave the dirty camp full of fresh corpses and expecting the hunter to follow. “Excellent. I have to return to Meridian as quickly as possible.”
The other man snorted, making no move to follow. Avad turned back to face him, frowning.
“Good luck with that,” the hunter said. Kneeling he rummaged through some crates for food and water - which Avad hadn’t even thought about. He was so eager to leave that the thought of gathering some weapons and supplies didn’t even cross his mind. Was he really that naive with so little experience in the world outside Meridian and no sense of survival instinct having grown up pampered and spoiled in the Sun-Palace? No wonder the hunter had to think of him helpless and useless.
“There’s danger ahead, wayfarer,” Nil continued as if to affirmate Avad’s doubts. “This part of the desert is teeming with vermin - bandits and corrupted machines crawling between the rocks and ruins like fat maggots spoiling on rotten flesh. It’s why I’ve come here. I know my way around but a noble like you won’t last a day trying to cross the desert alone.”
Avad pursued his lips, tempted to point out that the man sounded suspiciously like a noble himself. In fact, almost everything about the hunter’s mannerisms and appearance alluded to a noble heritage in disguise, from his charismatic eloquence and polite facade to his fitted armor and well-groomed beard, but the king held his tongue so as not to aggravate the one person he depended on and jeopardize the help he desperately needed under these dire circumstances. Maybe the hunter was a son of one of the minor houses seeking glory in battle, like his cousin. Maybe he’d fallen from grace and had no choice but to become some kind of mercenary. Has he been sent to exterminate this bandit camp on behalf of the local administration?
Either way, it didn’t change his dependance on the stranger and the truth in his claim that Avad would never make it safely back to Meridian without help. The king pursued his lips, weighing his options while he studied the tall man who stared back at him unblinking in another dare - leaving or staying? Keeping his dignity or swallowing his pride? Nil had the advantage and Avad knew he wouldn’t be able to force his help, yet the man was still here, talking to Avad instead of taking off without him or abandoning him to his fate in the shed he’s been held captive in. That had to mean something. As unlikely as it seemed after witnessing Nil slaying those bandits with not an ounce of hesitation or regret, the man seemed to have a conscience, some kind of moral code that kept him from leaving Avad behind, and maybe that was all he needed to convince the other man. The king had lost a lot thanks to the cruelty of the bandits, but he still got his natural charm, still got his sunwarm smiles and silver tongue that had persuaded so many Carja and Oseram in the past. Maybe he just needed the right words…
The challenge compelled him, as did the strange magnetism of the mysterious stranger despite having had a taste of the unsettling underlying darkness of the man’s polite facade. The Sun-King smiled his best smile which he was sure was still as charming as ever, even with his face dirty and bruised. He wasn’t trying to flirt but he knew he could be persuading. “Then it’s a good thing that I will not be traveling alone as I hope you will keep me company and escort me safely to Day’s Height. You’re more than capable with a bow and sword to handle any challenge crossing our pathpath.”
The hunter blinked slowly, momentarily caught off guard by Avad’s flattery. Then he raised his eyebrows, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk that looked almost predatory while he folded his muscular arms across his broad chest, his biceps swelling under the bracers. “I’m not a soldier anymore and I don’t remember having volunteered to escort you anywhere.”
Avad’s smile didn’t falter, holding on to his natural charm in desperate times. What did he have to lose? The worst that could happen would be the man abandoning him on his own, but the king was good at reading people, a useful and more than necessary skill for a politician since many people seeking favors didn’t necessarily speak the truth, and as much of an enigma his savior presented, there were some things that Avad was starting to become certain of regarding the man standing in front of him. Nil didn’t kill the bandits on someone else’s bidding and he didn’t kill them for fortune. While taking ammo and supplies from the bandits, the man hadn’t touched any of the caskets full of stolen shards, gold and jewels scattered across the stronghold. The hunter wasn’t a man for sale and trying to bribe him, to offer him any kind of financial reward would be pointless. Despite being obviously no saint, the hunter also sported a moral code, some sliver of consciousness that may not have been moved by the dying bandit’s begging from before but prompted him to free Avad from the shed when he could have left the king to rot in there as many others only looking out for themselves wouldn’t have, and he could have killed Avad along with the bandits without anyone ever knowing, the man didn’t do neither.
So what was it that made a man like Nil prowl the lands for bandits?
The answer seemed simple enough after giving it some thought: It was the seek of a thrill and what would be more thrilling than Avad’s offer?
Avad took a gamble to test his hypothesis and stepped forward to bridge the gap between them, his steps cautious but the smile never slipping from his lips. The other man studied him with a tilt of his head, curious to see what Avad was up to. He stopped his approach standing a few feet away from Nil, not close enough to touch but close enough to hopefully send a message - that Avad was putting his faith in him.
“It’s true you haven’t volunteered and I have nothing of worth to offer in exchange for your help,” he started, softly-spoken words amid the most amenable smile he could muster, his arms outstretched open. “But you look like a man that likes a challenge, and what would be more challenging than escorting a helpless noble through the desert teeming with vermin?”
Nil studied him intently, his eyes boring into Avad’s as he contemplated the king’s offer while the sun kept sinking behind the mesas in the west and shadows started to cover the land, those silver flashing in the dimming light with something Avad couldn’t point though it sent a shiver down his spine. The hunter shook his head and stepped closer and for a moment it looked like he would pass Avad by without an answer, but he he stopped right beside the king, leaning into Avad’s personal space in a way that forced Avad to lean back, otherwise their lips would have surely met with how close the hunter’s face hovered in front of his.
“Helpless, you are surely not, using sunsilken words like a politician.” Nil’s gaze flickered to Avad’s mouth, maybe contemplating to shut him up and for a moment time seemed to slow down while Avad’s heartbeat picked up pace in anticipation of something that he knew wouldn’t happen, that his mind told him not to give in to, but that he couldn’t help but yearn for nevertheless when the hunter’s warm breath smelling faintly of dried meat but not in an unpleasant way brushed his face.
“At least it’ll be an interesting pass of time.” The man grinned, then slapped Avad so hard on the back that he almost tumbled over. “Try to keep up, Gallantry Fashav,” Nil called back to Avad over his shoulder as he headed to leave the camp.
Avad closed his eyes to settle his nerves, regain his composure and steady his breathing, pushing any straying thoughts of distraction to the far back of his mind in hope to ignore and dissolve them. He needed to focus on surviving and getting back to Meridian, not on… whatever unexpected interest the hunter stirred inside him. He ran his hands through his tousled hair, shaking out some of the dirt clinging to his messy curls and whipped his hands off on his tattered silk pants that barely clung to his narrow waist.
His eyes cast to the sky, to the last rays of fading daylight submerging on the western horizon. Marad and everyone else had to be worried sick about him. If the spymaster hadn’t heard about the caravan having been ambushed on the road and the king having gone missing from his vast spy network by now, it was only a matter of time until he did. He would send out search parties to look for Avad, but considering how deep in the desert the bandits had abducted him, far offside of the intended travel route of the caravan, searching for him would be like looking for a needle in the haystack - which made even more important for Avad to get to the nearest outpost as quickly as possible from where a message could be sent to the capital.
After one last look around the eradicated bandit camp, Avad silently prayed to the sun that he didn’t make a huge mistake before he picked up a sword off the ground from one of the slain bandits and hurried through the gate to catch up with the hunter, to set out on a journey of uncertain adventure like no other laying ahead for him.