Requiem for a King [MxM]

The Road Ahead

Guards. Stomping. Boat. Storm.

Gavrael scowled at the jumbled thoughts scrawled across the pages of his journal. The words eclipsed each other as he went cross-eyed after staring for too long. He tried closing his eyes, focusing on each part of the memories in hopes something would manifest. A name, a place, a purpose. Something. These bits and pieces of himself didn't amount to anything, and for all he knew, they could be the result of a head injury.

It took a special kind of fool to forget their own name, and an even more special kind of fool to take this long to remember it. He leaned back against the couch cushions and breathed a sigh up to the roof. Unravelling the mystery of himself. This was taking too long. He couldn't keep taking advantage of Quintus' kindness.

According to their map, a few towns and cities sat scattered around the gulf. He could settle down, start a new life, at least until he remembered his old one. While these last few days of roughing it with Quintus had been enlightening, he wasn't built for life on the rough. Soft hands.

Quick footfalls reached his ears as Quintus came down the steps. He was dressed in his all black regalia, complete with a thick, double-breasted coat. He'd trimmed down the beard growth he'd gotten during their time at the waypoint and clipped his wavy hair. He looked nice.

But Gavrael couldn't admit that out loud. He couldn't admit how much he enjoyed Quintus company, how he stole glances of admiration when he wasn't looking, how soothing his voice was when he hummed or sung while doing menial tasks. Gavrael swore at himself silently. He was starting to sound like a teenager.

"Ready?" Quintus asked as he shouldered his crucifix. The storm had finally moved on, and so would they.

Gavrael nodded. "I wanted something to remember this place, but didn't want to break rule number one." He pointed to the sign over his head. He had to admit, he ike the idea of these waypoints. A place where any weary traveler can seek respite. That and the idea of a collective effort to keep it up and running.

"Well it's a good thing I found this upstairs." Quintus pulled a gold coin from his pocket. It was hand casted with a strange symbol on one side, definitely not the currency of this region. "It belonged to a necromancer, though I'm not sure which."

Gavrael took the coin and turned it over. "How can you tell?"

"We used symbols like those for identification, but because I'm absentminded and hate people, I can never remember which symbol belongs to who."

"I don't think I should take this." Gavrael tried to pass it back but Quintus put his hands up. "What if it has sentimental value?"

Quintus shrugged a shoulder. "If they left it here, that means they're comfortable with someone taking it." He picked up Gavrael's bag and shoved it in his hands before marching for the door.

Gavrael packed up his journal as fast as his arms could go and ran to catch up. He met Quintus out back by the garden. They'd gone out there the previous day when the rain was light to plant some seeds that would hopefully survive in their absence.

After three straight days of rain the air smelled crisp and clean as a fresh drink of water. The sun bled through the canopy in slanting rays and settled in glistening pools on the damp detritus.

"Do you have a symbol?" Gavrael asked.

Quintus stood and tapped the bottommost part of his cross. There a small, stylised sun was embossed on the leather "We should head out now, while the day is young."

Gavrael nodded and followed Quintus into the woods. "Where are we headed next?"

"Not sure," Quintus said. "We can follow the gulf and see where it carries us. Ewell is a ways south of here, but it's always a gamble going into towns with the negative sentiment towards necromancers around here. We'll need to avoid Avaly at all costs. A warm bed is nice but not at the cost of my life or sanity."

"What's in Avaly?"

"It's known amongst necromancers as the Forbidden City. They have laws against practicing Necromancy and a long history of killing my kind. The Divine City has a tight hold on that place. It's just too much of a risk."

Gavrael grimaced. "So we'll be staying outdoors. Do we have a tent?"

"Yes. We have a tent." Quintus waggled his eyebrows. "I hope you don't mind sharing."

He turned away so Quintus wouldn't see his blush. "No, that's fine." Hopefully it was a big tent.