Welt shot up before he'd fully opened his eyes.
The breeze felt gentle and pleasant on his skin, carrying some water vapour from the waterfall behind on the wind. The faint sound of the water gushing off the ciff, and its energetic running currents along the river tohis left were soothing.
The sun had fallen further in the sky, shading the sky darker with a more orange tint.
Not much time.
Welt was looking Southward, Death's Way, staring straight towards a strong and imposing city.
Before him, a ways down the hill, Endsham's walls stood, and a number of colourful Roofs and flags poked up further behind, nestled and safe.
Further beyond the river on Welt's left, the Deadwood was visible. Tall, spine-like trees extended far out East, all a good point lower than where Endsham stood, beneath the plateau that most of the Harvestlands sprawled upon.
Welt wondered about what it would be like to be running through those woods, further East than he'd ever been before. Would they hold dangers far greater than the Harvestlands ever had? Would he meet new, exciting people? Perhaps he'd have a grand adventure? Or, maybe, he'd simply be caught and killed.
He'd find out later tonight.
Immediately to his right, beneath the view of many colourful windmills, was Ira.
She was laying on the grass, limbs lazily splayed outward as she slept without a care. Her mouth was open slightly, letting a very faint sound escape with each breath she took. Her hair, a similar colour to the grass, fell to one side of her head, cushioning it.
Welt brought his hand to her face, ready to wake her up.
...
But, he decided against it.
There's too much to do, for Gahan's sake.
Welt sat in silence for a while, thinking about the events from the past few days.
What a storm of a person.
Indeed, Welt's own time in the city had been almost completely upturned by meeting Ira. Her outburst in the library, and then immediately accomodating and friendly attitude, had pulled Welt's plans out of order more than once.
She'd even almost figured out his secret. It was simple luck that Ira wore training weights, and so didn't think that he posessed The Burden.
Welt touched his temple gently, expecting to feel a bruise from where she'd elbowed him, knocking him unconscious. Yet, no such bruise could be found, nor any pain associated with it.
Ira was a better fighter than Welt had expected. When unaffected by The Burden, Welt had been pretty good at sparring with Drun, but now his movements were a little bit sluggish. Ira seemed very well-versed in combat, proving the smell of war that clung to her wasn't a coincidence.
She fought like a wild animal, adaptable and flexible. But, she had the form to execute complicated holds and trained stances within all of that chaos. This was something Welt lacked.
"There is no need for trained forms when hunting", according to Drun. Yet, hunting and sparring are different things entirely. If Welt wanted to be Ira's match in a fight, he'd need to work a lot harder.
Sadly, that was something he did not have the time for right now.
Someone was waiting for his help.
Looking at the sleeping girl one more time, Welt stood up, and walked downhill, toward the large walls of The Harvestlands' last and only city.
One he'd, most likely, be unable to return to.
Welt's shadow grew longer with the setting Sun, and the emergence of the Moon in the distance caused the Helm of The North to dance with excitement.
***
Ira awoke and stretched her body slowly, whining and yawning before even opening her eyes fully.
The wind felt a little cold on her face and hands, but her coat had shielded her well from most of its harshness. The waterfall behind her sounded powerful and imposing, a true force of nature. Much stronger than the one Marcus had made her sit under when learning discipline.
The world that greeted her was dark, with a Sun almost fully set over the Western horizon, enough that her body barely cast a shadow anymore. The moon had risen fairly high in the sky, surprisingly high for it being so early.
The moon...
Ira thought of Welt for a moment, his eyes were a similar colour, pale but slightly luminous, so much so that he looked a little off - you could hardly tell where the iris began and ended when looking in his eyes.
Ira looked over to her left, expecting to see the boy in the same, unconscious state he'd been in before. A flattened patch of windblown grass met her gaze instead.
...
The girl looked at the patch for a few moments, remembering a few times in her life when something siilar had happened. Sparring matches gone awry, playdates that ended with her rough-housing, a broken nose here, a cracked rib there, and eventually all of her friends had stopped coming to play.
No, Welt was different. He could put up a fight.
Ira nursed the side of her head. Her temple still thrummed from Welt's hearty, and vicious smack.
He wasn't trained well in man-to-man combat, certainly, but still impressively adaptable and able to respond to Ira's stances. Doing all of that with weights on made their short excahnge even more impressive.
He had clearly anticipated some of her attacks, but how? Ira would've been scolded by Ydd and Marcus for lacking feints in that spar. It was something she should consider much more in the future.
Maybe, Welt could come to Dwyra to become a Knight? He definitely had the talent, and seemed to be heading East. Taking a talented fighter into the Scarlet Knights wouldn't be too difficult for Ira to convince Ydd of.
I'll ask him about it tomorrow.
Ira was certain she'd be able to talk to Welt when the sun came up, apologize for knocking him out, and offer to lead him Eastward. Maybe he could find his father on the way?
It's not like she'd never see him again. He was leaving soon, but surely he'd be leaving in a few more days.
***
In the depths of an alley near the Northern Harvestgate of Endsham, a faint, dry mark of blood stirred in darkness. A simple, unnaturally long sword rested against the wall, bending slightly under its own weight, reflecting a slight shimmer of the moon.
Odds are high. Seventy Five Percent.
The shadow considered the results of its tracking and scouting. This boy, Welt, was suspicious. Definitely more suspicious than other candidates before him.
The Burden would likely be hidden on his right forearm. The Truth is hard to discern. The Instrument is also hard to determine, perhaps the hefty dagger he sheathes?
Too many unknowns to make a definite judgement. But, shadows had moved with less.
There were no accounts of any Annointments made in the Harvestlands, yet. If one did come in from the other scouting parties, then the odds would rise significantly - to about Ninety Five Percent.
They would have certainly made a move to restrain the boy and confirm his Annointment by now, if the others weren't so tied up with the Blasphemer in the Barrack. Such a hassle, doing all of that to a man for mere retribution.
Some simply valued Midway, or more accurately, they valued The Account, that much.
All this over a book. Mere words.
Real change was enacted through action. No amount of study nor revision would ever prove one more right than another. Truths couldn't be determined as their peers' better unless they clashed.
For a more Truthful world.
The long, long, longsword unbent as it was grasped from high by the shadow. The bloodstain mark obscuring its bagged head was touched gently by the flat of the blade, pointing upward.
The shadow vanished, ready to make its move.