I'm Empty and There's Nothing Really Real[Myron]

The captain noticed he had a silent shadow most of the ride. Every time he glanced over his shoulder, the Manthiran seemed even more serious than he himself felt. The expression suited his stern eyebrows and hard jaw rather well. Whether the Red Guard was worried about something or simply stressed about traveling on the road, Hunt wasn't certain, but he didn't like being in the company of anxious soldiers.

"The roads are safe here. More or less," he said, looking over his shoulder as they rode. As much as Hunt would have liked to encourage Riis to more than just the easy walk, even he would admit a group was a better idea. They had more concerns from bandits than anything but even that chance was slim. "You travel this way often?" The man clearly wasn't very good at small talk, but if he could take the man's mind off of whatever was bothering him, it was better than wallowing in his own brooding silence.

Hunt rather liked the face the man was making, even if it was a rather dour one. The startled look he got in return for his words made him almost feel bad, offering a slightly forced, but soft smile. He nodded in agreement. Not only were soldiers well-armed, it was rather unlikely any of them had much money or other items of value, besides perhaps their horses.

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to learn the man was from a noble house. Manthir seemed to have just as many such families as Taknier despite being such a smaller kingdom. "I've heard of it," he said carefully. He didn't think he had met anyone of the family in person before, but he knew enough. A small barony with a large family of soldiers, outliers for their family crest of some sort of tree. It seemed to extend to the man's more loner nature.

From his gently probing question and the location of his family, the captain figured he knew why the man was anxious. "I am. The commander likes to think of me as his personal courier," he said, trying to make it a joke, but his derision was clear.

He supposed it was a rather large show of trust. But Hunt got the feeling it was more because his commander was making cultural assumptions about him than any close connection. More annoying was that he was right, but that was beside the point. Being praised for such a loyal role would have been more amusing than anything. Hunt would have preferred his superiors see it that way.

He looked at the man for a moment, not quite sure what he was getting at. What it was like in Wolvstadt? The Manthiran would have a better idea of the area, but Hunt supposed he...ah. Right. "It's a..." he wasn't sure if Imperial had a specific word for it, but he supposed he could make it work. "A ghost town now, after the last raid. The outpost doesn't see very much action." That raid had been a few months ago. Hunt imagined Wolvstadt wouldn't be attacked again what with the Duke's forces there, but that only meant making other smaller villages and farmsteads nearby more ideal targets.

"I haven't heard anything of your family, but I've only visited a few farms. People are scared." Hunt didn't often speak directly to any locals, however. Most weren't exactly thrilled to welcome a foreigner into their homes. While soldiers didn't care, most regular folks assumed Taknieri exiles to be murderers or rapists or some other sort of violent or serious crime. the remaining few often considered them spies. Even if they didn't catch his accent, his eyes made people nervous. So he left the small talk to others.

The man's relief was palpable. There was quite a lot of assurance knowing family and friends were largely safe. It wasn't a feeling Hunt had felt himself in a long time. Not knowing if his brothers were okay. It wasn't something he dwelled on much, considering the impossibility of expressing those concerns.

He raised an eyebrow at the question of names. 'Careful about names' was one way to put the fact that Taknieri had defined naming conventions and very strict social rules. That or perhaps he meant exiles specifically. The young Norwood was his senior in age, which dictated one aspect. Hunt's current lack of rank as an exile furthered that. But his military rank added another layer. The etiquette and respect got quite messy. Regardless, the use of given names in public with anyone less than close blood relatives was a gross misconduct.

Except they weren't in Taknier. As strange as it had been to get used to, Hunt had been grateful for the more casual Manthiran conventions and culture. He had learned to simply match his conversation partner. With a few exceptions, such as the Prince. "Hunt," he said simply. His rank was apparent enough from the patch on his shoulder after all. "Good to meet you, Myron," he added, pulling up on his horse's reins slightly so he could lean over and offer a quick handshake. Even that gesture was very Manthiran, but he found he rather liked it. It felt more personable than a simple nod or bow.

He had heard the saying before. Whether from someone he had met here or sometime back home, he couldn't say. Just that he had always liked the sound of it. It reminded him of traditional Taknieri prayers. "The trunk is only as strong as its roots and together, the branches can weather any storm." Or something like that, if he remembered correctly. "May you find shelter under the Light's branches and the North wind guide your steps." Or so one of the many prayers went.

From the smile Myron leveled on him, Hunt suspected he was a lot closer to mantra than he thought he had been, or even wanted to be. But it was worth it to see the man smile like that, at least for a moment. He'd been so morose most of the ride.

The captain managed a brief smile in return. "Not much for wrestling," he said. A foray into a fighting ring was hardly wrestling and while he could hold his own, he wasn't much of a champion in that category of combat, excelling elsewhere. "And I do not know what an apple 'bobber' is," he added with a laugh. Clearly these were Norwood festival traditions, but for as much of an interest Hunt had in the kingdom and the year he had spent here, he knew surprisingly little.

He shook his head. "Can't say that I have. Some of the soldiers talk about the last one." Before the Duke called for troops to man the town. Now most of the talk was about if they would be able to attend another one at all due to the rising tension. "Perhaps this winter?" He said hopefully, though he suspected that was highly unlikely. Not in the least because Hunt had intentionally avoided large gatherings of people.

The Taknieri watched the man intently, face purposefully expressionless as the man used both words and strange gestures to explain that people jumped in freezing water and tried to catch apples with nothing but their teeth. For fun. It didn't seem to have a point or be achievable to be honest. Nor did it sound very fun. But he offered a measured thoughtful hum as Myron said it was better seen than explained.

"I will take your word for it," he added. "Maybe get a chance to see some at the festival," he continued on the vein of hoping for the coming festival. From the look of him and how he went quiet again, the Red Guard didn't think it very likely to be as bright a holiday as it usually was.

Hunt nodded. It wasn't a bad idea. The garrisoned town was more a show of force in his opinion, least from how the noble officers treated the entire operation, but it would be good for some of the rank and file to get a break. Even just the reminder of home would raise a few spirits.

Their trek continued in quiet for a while, the sun reaching its low peak and then diving again. Hunt watched his breath steam around him, a bit heavier than his companions considering he kept himself warmer naturally. He hadn't packed anything to eat since he had been planning to push harder ahead without any travel companions but even he admitted a group was safer. They passed a few local traders and farmers going south, but the further and further north they moved, the emptier the roads became. "How did a Norwood end up in the Red Guard?" Hunt broke the silence with his companion this time, more for a distraction from his growling stomach than anything, but it was a bit curious to find the northman so far from home and in the capital no less.