1.04 Walking On Broken Glass

[Madeline Merri]

There was no consoling him. He sat in one of the chairs in the corner of the main commons. He was quiet, hand stroking his chin and face from time to time when the emotion of it all swelled up far too much for him to bear, wiping tears away as discreetly as he could manage. The past few days had been fueled by a mixture of fear, adrenaline, desperation. It was as it all washed out of his body at once. He looked to the crushed front door, to the claw marks that dug deep into the floorboards, the smearing of Mannfred's blood on the floor. She saw him stride about the inn quickly when he first entered, but that time was gone. She grabbed a few bags, and began to pack away what money, belongings and provisions she could find that were unspoiled. Her movements were not urgent, nor did anyone feel they needed to be.

When the seven of them reached the broken gates of the city, the city was in disarray. The snows had put the fires out, leaving portions of the city blackened and burned out, but what remained was an exercise in sorrow. There wasn't a house that wasn't broken into, a door that wasn't torn from it's hinges. But what was surprising was the eerie silence, and the discovery that not a single body remained inside the city. There were signs of them, dried blood in pools, beneath shapes where bodies should be laying inside of the houses. The wind whipped through the alleys, cleaning the stench from the city and leaving it a ghost of what it should be, what it used to be. The snows covered most of the grime on the streets. Anton directed the knights towards the city hall where their goal lay, and promptly left the two of them to their own devices. She assumed that part of Anton expected to find Mannfred laying in the bar, half-alive but still enough to talk, and maybe find help. But there was no such courtesy left for him, not even a body to bury.

Madeline walked behind the bar, and beside the tray she used to ferry empty steins and mugs to the kitchens lay her violin. Beneath the hood of the counter, it received no damage or harm. She gathered the bow up and slipped both of them into her backpack as gingerly as she could manage, tucking it between a pair of her dresses and tunics. She had spent so much time on the other side of the fence, her mind swirled to reach for words to help console her new companion. They wouldn't come, however hard she tried, and so she left them there in the silence of the air. It struck her sad when she went up to his room with another empty bag. He was a very private man, and it turned out he was a very frugal man as well. His walls were bare, only a bed and a single wardrobe holding three shirts, and three pantaloons along with his coat. She packed them all into the bottom half of the bag, and decided to slip the money purse in as well, holding the profits from the inn's last night in service. She cinched up the cowhide bag and returned back downstairs where she found Anton standing in the doorway, looking out the bright light of day. She came up from behind him, consciously letting her arm touch his, hoping that a simple part of him would want to lace his fingers into hers, if nothing else but to know that someone cared for his plight.

"Did your city look like this, after they came?" His voice croaked at first, having not spoken a word in hours.
"I do not know, I never went back after, I don't think I could face it." She looked up to him, the tears had washed trails down his cheeks where the dust and mire of the affair had worn into his features. He suddenly looked much older than his twenty-years. It was to be expected.
"You may have made the better choice." He looked down to see she was holding a bag for him, and he took it, slinging the strap over shoulder. He moved away from the door, and back to the bar. In his pocket he always kept a few coppers, since 'a man ought not to walk without coin in his pocket.' He took a pair of them, and placed them gingerly on the bar, saying something to himself, or more directly - to Mannfred. With that, they both took wide, long steps across the shattered threshold of the inn, and left into the ruined streets of Siegfriedhof, slipping arms into warm, long coats, wrapping scarves about their necks to stave off the wind from diving down inside.

They made a conscious decision not to meet up with the cavalry. The horse they had brought with them to the city was gone, spooked either by the memory of the city, or a swell of fear that had been rising since they arrived. Whatever the case - both of them felt good to have ground beneath their feet as they walked down the main street towards the gates. The road walked aimed westward, though it was a safer thing to stay off the main roads. The last thing either of them wanted was to fall prey to eyes watching the highways, or worse yet, to be enlisted yet again. The afternoon was quiet, the wind died down to the soft snowfall as Anton laid fresh tracks for Madeline's feet to fall into much more easily. Hours passed in absolute silence, and the night was greeted with the coldest of fires. They ate sparingly, drinking more than they should have in wine for the first few nights.

On the fourth day, he caught her humming a tune behind her. It was quiet at first, but in the silence they both shared, it was hard for her not to let her mind drift astray. He turned to peek over his shoulder at her, and she instantly halted her song, apologizing with a swift Sylvanian word. He slowed his pace to turn, and she looked to him, wondering.
"What song is that, the one you were humming?"
"You would not know it, or want to hear it. It is not one of joy. I apologize."
"I want to hear it, Madalina. My mind keeps running in circles. Anything will help, please."
She sighed, letting her lips loose in a sort of horse-ish sound as they resumed a slower pace to allow for her voice. She was never much for touting her voice, but there was a pleasantness to the simple melody she could carry.

I'm so tired of being here,
Suppressed by all my childish fears,
But if you have to leave,
i wish that you would just leave,
'Cause your prescence still lingers here,
And it won't leave me alone.

These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.
I held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have all of me.

You used to captivate me,
By your resonating light.
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind.
Your face, it haunts,
My once pleasant dreams.
Your voice, it's chased away,
All the sanity in me.

These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears.
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.
i held your hand through all of these years,
But you still have all of me.

The song rolled through the Great Forest, rolling around each trunk and around each gully hidden in the depths. She coughed a bit afterwards, not being used to hitting the higher notes in the song, which drew something deep from her wind. They picked their way through the forest yet again as she resumed humming the tune. After a while, Anton began to hum along, once the melody became familiar to his ear.

"You were truly in love with him, weren't you?" He asked, moving to the side to let Madeline walk at his shoulder. For the first time in a while, the questions about Sebastian didn't well up in the back of her throat with a catch.
"Yes, I was. He was as any young man is - he would do anything for the woman he loved."
"You knew him for how long?"
"Since I was a girl. He lived in the next town over. I do not know how I would have ended up if it weren't for him, after Nachthafen. Most of the good people of Sylvania become travellers now, and some of the not-so-good ones. He kept me from those people."
"I would have liked to have met him, he sounds like a man I would have gotten along well with."
"He probably would have broken your nose, Anton, what with the way you looked at me."

And there it was. The first smile to break their faces away from it all. It was followed by a laugh, both of relief, and of senselessness. Madeline told him of how the Sylvanian people broke into groups, that they were fiercely independent of each other. They had spread through the Empire, the Border Princes, Brettonia, and even into the Tilean reaches. Most of the time, the raven-haired people were turned away as drifters, people of little repute or worth. It was this reason that they clung to each other with a tenacity that made family out of the wildest of strangers, and turn away those that would threaten to wedge into it without earning respect. The world called them by many names - and few of them were made without a sense of resentment. Madeline wondered if Anton knew that he was to be a part of it, but whether he realized it or not, she was glad to have someone that brought along with him a sense of understanding. To walk the streets of the Empire and be surrounded by the apathy of those with the frilled cuffs and dyed velvets would be hard for anyone to bear alone.

They continued on like that until the afternoon. The forest opened up into the rolling hills of Eastern Stirland. It was a pleasant feeling to have the sun kiss on their faces and cheeks for the first time in nearly week. The wind tasted sweet on every exhale, the rotten flavour and pungent aroma of the rotting leaves and slumbering forest drifted away even at the verge. The snows had blown and drifted away, opening sights of grasses and rocky clusters which would make a decent spot to set up a camp. They walked to the top of a hill, wreathed by a small copse of trees. From here they could view the countryside for a good two days travel. They planted stakes into the ground for a tent, and began a cheerful fire that waved and danced with the soft breeze. Their mouths enjoyed the salt pork and what remained of the potatoes, sitting cross-legged as they used the rest of the daylight to plan out their route.

"We can find some comfort in the Moot - there are more taverns there than anywhere in the Empire." Anton suggested, chewing on the fat from his pork, leeching out every last bit of flavor he could draw from it.
"I know nothing of them - are they a friendly people?"
"Not initially - much of Stirland does not care for the Mootlanders. They own the largest share of farmland, the best land. But they are good people that will have an appreciation for what we.. ehm, what you can offer them. It will be good, trust me."
"Then I do, we head that direction come daybreak, it looks to be a good two-day trek, at the least." She spit her fat into the fire with a soft sizzle as it rested on top of the coals, reaching over to snag the skin of wine. She uncorked the mouth, and drank a few mouthfuls down with a soft purring sound. Anton leaned over to crawl into the tent, grunting a bit as he made himself comfortable.

The wind pushed the canvas with a soft rippling sound. It was hard not to feel the twigs and small lumps in the bed of branches they laid down underneath the blanket to give some comfort from the frost-hardened earth, but after a moment or two, he found a comfortable position. There were times when he wondered, back when he first met the girl, what it was like to live a life underneath the stars and out in the elements on a nightly basis. She was obviously more skilled at it - each morning she would rise without so much as a complaint or a sore muscle. His eyes were heavy when he heard the canvas flap open up, the girl crawling into the tent. With a few little sounds of adjustment, she laid down to his front, settling back into him like a pair of laid spoons, using his arm like a blanket. He gave a bit of a cough, adjusting again embarrasedly to accommodate the girl.

"Anton, stop being childish and get closer - it is going to be a cold night."

[Si'anelle of Avelorn]

[Madeline Merri]

Thanks for your support, Si'anelle, it always makes me feel good to have your praise.

[Si'anelle of Avelorn]

You draw really amazing and atmospheric pictures with words Madeline. You've definitely got a talent for it and I truly hope that you'll try your hand at becoming a published author sometime soon. I've been in a state of writer's block myself for some time now, but I can still recognise genius when I read it.