The long road home.. (Closed for Lotus_Maiden)

[CoSurvivor]

Waking up from a restless sleep Rand looked about the small room he had been sleeping in, his gear, boots and sword were right where he left them, the bed was comfortable, he'd slept better than he had in weeks, but he still felt like he was going to sink through it to the floor. Looking around, the future in front of him was quite different than what his life had been like these last 5 years. Valliene had been in the throws of a Civil War, the kingdom was in it's first months of peace in over 20 years, and for many it was a new uncertain future ahead of them.

His whole reason for getting into the war had nothing to do with the petty squabble between royal families, the fact that the south had fought for it’s own independence as it became more and more apparent that the north wanted to pull it into a much larger scope of influence. The death of royalty at least to him had nothing to do with his decision, and while the public at large felt that the “Dead 9” was a major turning point in favor of house Arcadius, Rand didn’t quite see it that way. There’s always half-truths to everything, politicians and those in position of power were never quite telling you the whole story. His reason for getting involved 5 years ago was to defend the south in it's right to be free from the north. To establish their own way, and at least to him, that’s what growing up in his home town of Station was all about. He’d been brought up to think for himself and he felt compelled to defend others rights to do so, and not servant to some kid who knew nothing of real life outside the palace walls.

Throughout the war he’d been a loyal Sargent to his lieutenants, his officers were not always the brightest but they had enough sense to get the hell out of the way as Rand and other Sargent's attempted to fight against the northern army. Only problem was, with the dwindling supplies, or more so, supplies which seemed to always go to other companies, they were left to take care of themselves. And rely on the kindness of the citizens who’s land they were attempting to protect.

However, all of his opinions changed when their position was attacked in the dead of night. His lieutenant was killed and only a small handful of soldiers were left to follow him. With meager resources, they defended their position while waiting for reinforcements that never came. In the morning a procession of Northern troops rolled through their location with swagger. Surrounded, Rand and his men surrendered, then were brought behind enemy lines, to one of many northern prison camps. Stripped of their weapons, and armor, they found out how badly their situation had become. The battalion commanders had ignored their calls for help, leaving the dying to eventually succumb to their wounds, who ever was left forced to surrender and imprisoned, Rand felt discarded like an expendable asset.

Broken and betrayed, he now held no loyalty to either the north or south and resolved that once he was released, his days of fighting were over. While in prison, the northern troops didn’t treat them horribly, they were housed well fed allowed to get clean and the wounded were cared for, and the critically injured were made as comfortable as possible, considering the situation, the well known Valliene hospitality held true, no matter north or south, they treated their prisoners with dignity. However, the prisoners couldn't help but notice that northern troops feeling rather superior, and rather smug about their victory over the south. Rightfully so they should feel proud, but no opportunity was missed to remind the prisoners that the north had indeed won the war and soundly defeated them on their own soil.

For Rand it was difficult to move on, he’d fought hard, been loyal to the end and felt that his small squad of survivors had been deserted by their own. Now they were unwanted by both, left questioning where were they to go? Should they rejoin the southern army, in it's new neutered state or return to civilian life. For some the choice was not simple but thankfully, each of them had homes they could return to, lives they could try to rebuild.

Rand and his small group went their separate ways 3 weeks after the war was announced over, the treaty had been signed, they were released with their own property, so long as they swore an oath not to raise arms against the unified kingdom. For Rand it wasn’t much of a problem, he’d had enough. Deciding to return to station, he’d go back and find out how his younger brother was, how his parents trade business was going now that the war was over. Life would be simpler and he’d put all of this behind him. Who knows, he might look up an old flame or two….

The long trek back to Station would take him a few weeks by horseback, if he had a horse… a month by foot.. which was his only choice. When they released him from prison he was allowed to keep what personal property he had, however transportation wasn’t one of them. He could have easily set upon the western train route which would take him back home, but something told him in his bones he’d best take the time getting back to decompress, right his mind.. and focus on the future.

So, with what little money he had, he spent the night at the Ragged goblet, an inn which was maybe a day’s travel from the main trade route to station, he’d spent the night in a simple room, washed up in the small basin of water they’d given him, and tided up his clothes for his trip back home. Rand’s possessions included the sword he’d been given by his father before he left which was strapped to his back at the moment. A Magik imbued sword wrapped with a bright blue dyed leather strap to the hilt, otherwise the sword was nondescript, fairly bland, unless wielded by someone who knew how to use it. Many a WarRock found out the hard way as they’d be reduced to pebbles.. He was armed also with a few daggers which were placed with the belts about his waist, he also carried a small six round revolver in a holster tucked behind his back. Not an elegant weapon, rather crude really but with the changing times having something like it hidden on his person wasn’t a bad idea. Most people were carrying slug throwers as such these days, so he made sure to carry one.

His clothes were mostly black, which hid the dirt, the grime and him when the need came to it. About his shoulders he gathered a gray hooded cloak which definitely had seen better times, a few holes here and there, he’d hope it might last until he returned home. So with all things his he made sure his pouches were securely closed about him, magical, they carried a lot more than what appeared to be, lastly he carried his travelers bag over his shoulder tucked against his side and under his cloak, it wasn’t heavy, well… not to the person carrying it.

Stepping out of the room, he took a few steps and turned to walk down a short flight of stairs into the main eating area for this inn/bar, Rand found an open bench seat where his back could face the wall and he could see the exits, it was still tough for him to drop his years of war. That’s when he noticed her, she looked vaguely familiar, standing there talking to another employee of the inn. The obvious insignia patch of the northern army on her shoulder spoke for her loyalty to the north so he knew he had to keep his distance. But her appearance was familiar, he'd seen her somewhere before.. "Yes.. oh damn…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head he took another look at her and knew where he'd seen her. They'd gone to school together in Station, a lifetime ago as kids, but he couldn't quite place her name.

Rand tried to not draw attention to himself, shaking his head knowing he'd have to try hard to avoid interaction, He called over the nearest waitress and ordered his food. Distinctly trying not to look at her but watching anyway. What was she doing here of all places. Of all the inns in northern Valliene she had to choose this one. Sighing, he concentrated on the growth rings of the old tree the wooden table he was sitting at trying not to draw attention to himself. His food couldn't come soon enough.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Arlyn Fenwinch, 21, young stubborn and prideful soldier

“Then give us the largest room you have,” the long dark hair female warrior told the innkeeper. She nudged her head back at the three male comrades behind her while added, “One that can accommodate all of us.”

The foursome looked weary yet their heads held high and shoulders rolled back. They stood tall and proud, deservingly so. After all, they had won the long draggy war. The scars, old and new, on their bare arms and skins told tale of bloody fights, intensive battles, and near death experiences. Though they didn’t have full body armors, one could tell their cloths had seen better days. The fabric, once ruby red cotton, had lost its lush and became maroon from blood stains. Their metallic vest was dull and full of sword marks. One had a distinctive dent that suggested a hammer had met it a few time. They dressed similar to one another and bore the same insignia of the northern kingdom.

Despite the fact that she was the only female and had the smallest stature, her aura commanded respect from the others, which was nothing short of the Fenwick bloodline. Her vast family had long history in both battlefield and court politics. They not only served the late Galil, but also guarded King Argos before there were a border that divided the north and south of Valliene.

“Arlyn, we can’t ask you to share a room with us,” one of the men chimed up.

“Haha~aah,” her chuckles turned to groans. She forgot the deep bruise to her side hasn’t fully heal . She smirked and managed to tease, “Have you grown shy, Peter? What have we not share in the battlefields all these years?”

Peter’s face grew red but silence because the lady spoke the truth. They had slept under the blue sky for days, carried wounds that are caused by the same arrow, and seen each other bathe. Still those happened at the battle front where chivalry and formality had to take the backseat. Now they no longer struggled between life and death, the trio felt awkward sharing a room for a night with the young woman before them.

Arlyn, on the other hand, didn’t mind nor gasp the problem. She had grown and played with more village boys than girls back home. When she was one year old, her mother had ran away from her General-husband with their only daughter. The two had settled and started new roots at the bustling neutral city called the Station. Arlyn had always been a tomboy. She was more interests in practicing swordplay, riding horse, and rolling in the dirt than playing house, making dresses and looking womanly. It wasn’t that Arlyn doesn’t look like a woman; on the contrary, her curves are prominent and well-endowed under the tight and clunky armors; she just wasn’t born a damsel in distress. She would rather saving others than being helpless and waiting for a knight in shiny armor. She was her own hero.

Once her mother had talked about marriage since she was sixteen, Arlyn had ran off to the capital city of Bluehaven. She had wanted to serve the king but ended up reuniting with her General-father. Over the next five years, he had taken her under his command, groomed her, and taught her rigorously. Though she was his daughter, he treated her just like any other soldiers. When it came to the army and duty, the General had always been strict. Arlyn had understood why her mother had left him. Family was forever second in his priority list.

“Yes, miss. Our ‘royalty room’ is vacant. Plenty of room for four,” the innkeeper added after he checked and double-checked their room list.

“Excellent!” Arlyn did an about turn and told the trio, “You guys go ahead. I’ll need a bag of ice for this old wound,” she explained, pointing at her side.

She then walked over the main eating area while the innkeeper took the boys up the stairs to their room. She headed to the bar and asked for her ice. As she waited for the bartender tends to her request, a waitress carried a tray full of piping hot food. Before she could notice, Arlyn hungry green eyes followed the trail of delicious smoke. She might had drool if she hadn’t caught a glimpse of the man sitting at the table and waiting for his orders.

She not only recognized the wear and tear of war on his face, but also noted a sense of nostalgic about his smug. Had she seen him in the battle? Had they fought together? Who did he serve? Were they in the same unit? Her mind wandered endlessly. Once she had the bag of ice, she decided to end all her questions once and for all.

Arlyn strolled over to him with the icepack pressed on one side and the long sword sheathed on the other. She hovered by his table. “You. Have we met? I’m Arlyn Fenwick, the 9th Regimen,” she introduced herself proudly. “And you?”

 

[CoSurvivor]

Rand was savoring the smells of what the waitress was bringing him, his mouth watered at the promise of the impending arrival of the oversized omelet that she was carrying in her hands. Some of the tastiest aroma’s his nose had smelled in year was coming from the promised plate of food that was just moments away and just thinking about the first bite was making his stomach speak out. Due to his tunnel vision, Rand didn’t see, the familiar woman from back home smell the same thing he had… and followed it with her eyes… in his direction.

When he did realize that her eyes were upon him he wanted to ball up under his cloak and disappear.

“Damn it…. Don’t make eye contact Rand.. hopefully she won’t recognize you.. it’s been what…10, years maybe since you saw her last? Just make like you didn’t notice her and MAYBE she’ll go about her business.”
But today, which had started out to be a good day, was now promising to bring disaster. When the waitress set down the food in front of him and walked away he’d hoped his old school mate would leave him in peace. But she turned to face him instead which meant he got a good look at her and knew it was Arlyn. She’d been a good rider and a decent fighter who never quit . From the looks of her she’d grown up, she looked more…. womanly than the girl he remembered even in the armor. It fit well despite the fact that she was basically wearing a fancy tin can. He hated the heavy armor he’d had to wear on the front and much preferred his current appearance, the cloak wasn’t bulky, and hid his sword draped across his back, the pistol and knives hidden within the belts about his waist didn’t clink around when he moved and he had a more subtle appearance. Must less apt to attract attention, and less noisy.

http://www.justpushstart.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/popww5.jpg

Rand tried to change his body language to appear more stand offish, and hunkered over his food, making as if he wanted privacy. He’d hoped she might recognize his body language, but high chances were, that if she did recognize him as he suspected she did, she’d want to talk even if Rand didn’t want to. Part of him was speaking pretty loudly though, that being his stomach growling as the omelet in front of him was begging to be eaten. So, utensils in hand, he cut into it and took his first bite. His taste buds lit up from the first mouth full of fresh food, the ridiculous battle rations and stale bread they’d been stuck with on the front for the last three months, had tasted worse than dirt and well, this omelet could be the worst he’d ever eaten, who knows maybe the cook figured out he’d fought for the south and added some “special sauce” to it but at the moment Rand didn’t care. Savoring his first bite, he stared at his plate and was plotting his next followed by a plan of how to eventually lick it clean.

That’s when she strolled over… all bluster and pride, her body language said she’d just stepped of the front lines, wearing the dents in her armor like they were some badge of honor. Rand did notice the ice pack to her side, obviously nursing a wound of some sort that someone had gotten in on her before they’d been forced to surrender. His more noble side wanted to offer her a seat to take the weight off the wound and share a bite, make peace with the war now over. But the side that had fought hard, bled on the wheat fields in that damned Valley wanted to throw the plate in her face and make a scene.

Instead, he evaluated his situation and counted how obvious things were set against him. Counting in his head he numbered them off while she walked toward him.

One, he’s sitting down, easy target for her to take his head clean off without much trouble. Two, he was after all, in the north, at an inn which had posted signs signifying it’s allegiance to the north, but they welcomed travelers of all kinds hence why he was staying here. So he knew upsetting that careful balance in a place like this would be bad. Three, he was so hungry after traveling, and a good night sleep that if he didn’t eat his omelet soon he was close to chewing off his own fingers pretty soon. Four… the war was over, the south had lost, not just lost, but soundly defeated on their own ground. Just thinking about it made him depressed, and pissed off at both sides. The north for all their pride, the south for deserting him and his men. Rand was tired of the war and the talk of it. Arlyn looked like she wasn’t looking for a fight, her bluster and pride was understandable, she was entitled to how she felt. No matter how much it pissed him off.

Rand let her finish her sentence as she spoke proudly without interruption, while he tried to think of how to respond. Brash, announcing his company and rank, or as a common man, which he was now.. His eyes grey/green eyes were probably betraying his internal fight. But this was no place for one. Calmly, he swallowed his first bite, looking up into her eyes he spoke politely.

“I knew I recognized you Arlyn. It’s been years since you left for BlueHaven, headed to serve King Galil, I remember the whole lot of us from class sending you off with a cheerful farewell. You probably remember my little brother Watson more than me who’d had a severe crush on you. The poor kid tried to carry your muddy boots one afternoon and proceeded to get his clothes a mess, invoking the wrath of my mother for his efforts. My name is Rand, Rand Graymalkin.”

He hoped, just a little that by answering her question but not mentioning which side he fought on she’d not inquire, but that was probably a fleeting hope. Smiling kindly he pointed to the seat across from him and turned his plate a little.

“Have a seat, you look like you could use a moment to take a load off and rest that side of yours..”

turning his fork and pointing the handle to her with his right hand, his left stayed on the table as he watched her eyes.. When she was distracted by his gesture his hand fell to his lap hidden by the table. His gesture was a peace offering, while he was holding down his own pride and suspicions preparing for the worst.

Thinking to himself, Rand warned, “Calm yourself Rand… not here.. not now..”

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Despites layer of calluses, her fingers weren’t immune to the numbness from the prickly cold of the icepack. Slowly but surely. Still, she didn’t winch nor made a deal about it. She just stood tall while her sight gazed low at the lone guest. She felt slightly bad to come between a man and his meal but wasn’t completely apologetic. She had to unearth his identity. His familiar face would forever haunt her weary mind until she knows who he is and why she knows him.

Fortunately, his memory functioned more properly than hers today. He confirmed her suspicious when he finally spoke. He had called her by name, which meant she indeed knew him.

The more he spoke, the more she raised her guard. She felt a bit uneasy that he seemed to know a lot more about her than she could remember about him. It wasn’t until he mentioned “Watson” and then his own name that she finally recognized him.

“Rand! Of course!” Her free hand punched the side of his arm out of excitement. “It’s so good to see you.”

Her eyes dropped for a split second at her side. “What? This? Nah, it’s just a minor scratch,” she claimed. She still took his offer though and sat down next to him.

“What are you doing way out here, Rand? Oh, have you heard? We won! We avenged King Galil! Isn’t that just fantastic?” she ranted on loudly and proudly.

 

[CoSurvivor]

Internally Rand groaned…. “Why, why did I have to offer her a seat… Because you are hopeless when it comes to manners.. especially when you need to stay out of trouble...” When Rand mentioned his brother's name he noticed her eyes light up, realizing who he was.

Now he was in it.. with no way out. That's when she punched him in the shoulder.

His immediate response was to bite her head off, but he thought better of it, his position was still uncomfortable, and as she sat there and started in again, he immediately lost his need to eat when she spoke of the north getting their revenge..

“Oh, have you heard? We won! We avenged King Galil! Isn’t that just fantastic?”

His stomach turned, and his grip on the dagger at his waist grew a bit tighter.. her words, while probably not meant to be hurtful, were made on the assumption that he fought for the north. It was this pompous self righteous attitude that had turned him off from them all. As Arlyn continued to speak he screwed up what ever anger was welling inside him , holding it back. “Remember Rand.. “ he said to himself, “You'd be just as happy about the victory if you were her…. Yea… only difference is, I'd never rub it her face about it.” The war had been tough on all sides… and victors had the right to brag, true… but he'd just about had enough. She'd asked the question honest enough, what was he doing here.. so far from Station.. It was a question he could answer. And if she could read through the meaning of his words, she'd know full well why he was there, heading home.

“I'm on my way home Arlyn to see my kid brother and check in on my parents. I've been gone for a long time now. You have a right to rejoice in your victory. It came soundly, and you are entitled to say it proudly. I'm sure the prince and princess will make a lovely couple.. for all the good it does for the rest of us.”

Reaching across and taking his fork back from her, he extended his right hand exposing his forearm, as his sleeve pulled up, she could easily now see his unit tattoo, that's if she was paying attention..

A black tattoo, void of any color as most battle tattoos are, it wasn't large, maybe palm sized, but unmistakable for those who know it. The tattoo was a simple design really… a long sword in the center of a flaming sun, his unit, the 92nd all had the same tattoo. Which allowed them to light their swords a blaze during battle. Anyone they fought against knew the unit, and the tattoo's meaning. For all the good it did him now as only 4 of that walked out of the Valley of the 9 Lakes still carried it. If she recognized the tattoo, he'd get an ear full of pomp and bragging, lot's of “What right do you have to be here..” “How could you fight for… THEM..” or his favorite “We are united as one again.. as we should have always been.”

Clutching on to his blade hidden under the table he waited for her response.. He'd spoken his peace… made his homage to the victors, and hopefully made himself look humble. Hopefully she'd be satisfied with that. Somehow… he didn't think that would be enough. Steeling himself, he readied for what ever onslaught of insults would be thrown his way..

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

As elated yet tired as Arlyn was with the win and end of the war, she couldn’t help noticing the slight change in his body language. His shoulders tense and bicep flexed as if his hand was balling or holding something tighter. She figured it’s his way showing excitement and celebration. What else could it be?

She couldn’t fathom anyone will joined the South, served under a descendent of a mad Queen, and accepted their heinous acts again her King. No one in their right mind would. Indeed she had assumed her childhood neighbor is on the same side as her. If her memory served her right, Rand definitely wasn’t insane. Of the two brothers, he was the smarter, better fighter, more dependent and courageous one. She respected him a little more now that he had joined the army. Of course, she was oblivious on the fact that they might be on the opposing sides.

Within the next second, she felt and emitted various and vastly different emotions. She smiled, happy when he mentioned his parents. As a child, she was fond of them. Then she was sad, frowning because his parents reminded her estranged mother. She missed her. Before she could resolve the conflicting feelings, she was hit by confusion. His tone and the way he spoke about the war and her victory threw her off. The puzzlement quickly turned anger when she caught a glimpse of his tattoo.

She reached out half way across the table and grabbed the hand that was retrieving the fork. Her grip was firm but did struggle a little to keep him in place. She risked a glance down for a quick confirmation before returned to meet his gaze. Her weary eyes turned disapproving and deadly with a hint of hurt, looking at him from a whole new perspective. Insults and harsh words crossed her mind, but she only simply asked, “Why?”

 

[CoSurvivor]

When he felt Arlyn's hand clasp his wrist, he was more than a bit surprised. She'd seen the tattoo and recognized it, she knew who he fought for. GOOD he thought. He relaxed inside while trying not to show it . In a way, having Arlyn find out was a good thing, no more fake polite gestures, no two faced expressions and hiding behind enuendo. He could speak plainly. Besides, he was never any good at lying to begin with. When he heard her ask a simple question, he grew angry..the simplicity of it meant she'd passed judgement, and was disappointed.

“Why?”

Rand didn't immediately respond, he let her stare at him with her shock and disappointment. Slowly he twisted his wrist from her grasp. He wasn't incredibly forceful about it, but he wasn't going to let her touch him any longer than he had to. Once freed, he cut another piece off of the omelet with the side of his fork, and ate. He’d answer when he was good and ready. This whole scenario was frustrating. He tried to be polite, tried not to attract attention..

Damn it Arlyn! He thought , time for the truth. She was disappointed? That he didn’t conform to the way the north wanted everyone to think and feel? Pay fealty to a prince who would soon be king, give up his right to be independent? All of these emotions were bundled inside of him as he struggled to contain them. His anger won out, which was bubbling below the surface, Rand was angry at her, at the south for deserting him and his men and for the North for being such pompous twits. Rand narrowed his eyes, and responded in a firm yet defensive voice.

“Why?, You ask?”

“The reasons for 'why' that whole damned war started are older than either of us. We both know, good people die and for no reason other than someone else wanted what they had, or because they had a disagreement. It doesn’t excuse the ‘dead 9’ for what happened. The King’s death was tragic, but does one man’s death justify the subjugation of an entire country? I fought because I didn’t want the little guy to get stepped on I fought for the farmer.. the baker, and the blacksmith who wanted to choose to be out from the control of a king who hadn’t a care for him, had nothing to do with the 'why' the war started. And do think they do care? Royals could careless for the common person’s problems. And honestly Arlyn, I never gave a thought about the royal squabble. All that matters to them is land, title, money and that their soldiers parade at formation front of them.”

He was babbling and he knew it…Rand didn’t want to admit to himself that he may have made the wrong choice of getting involved in the war in the first place. The crazed “Mad Queen” had definitely stirred the north against those who just wanted independence. The “dead 9” did nothing to help the cause, but Rand always suspected there was something more to their existence. How it all occurred and why. He just didn’t trust royals… His fierce independent streak didn’t play well with paying homage to royals, north or south. What had made it more palatable was that the king of the south, ruled more within his council, which made him rule more fairly. Oh who was he fooling… The king of the south was still a king…

Rand shook his head in a bit of frustration. This whole argument was pointless. It didn’t matter anymore, he just wanted to go home. Leave the war behind, see the docks full of the fishing boats in Station, watch the birds come in off the coast, hear the sounds, and take in the smells of the market where his parents trade shop was. Taking another bite, he looked to Arlyn. Locking eyes with her, Rand addressed her as honestly as he could without waiting for her response.

“Look, we could bicker and argue for hours as to why either of us joined which side... Could have been for the love of a parent, could have been for the right to put my right boot on before my left. Right now, I DON’T CARE. The war is OVER for me Arlyn, I’m going home and I want nothing further to do with fighting or squabbling over who was wrong or right in that damn war. You won.. Congratulations…”
Using his fork he tried to cut another piece free, forgetting that his left hand was still under the table holding on to his dagger. Once he'd cut it free with his fork he stabbed the piece of omelet, then looked at her babbling out one more time.

“So do what you want, but I present you a humble choice. Join me, an old school mate from home and have a bite of this omelet before it goes cold. Or leave me in peace Arlyn.. because I've got nothing more to say about that war.”