• Solo • Unforgiven

[Kasoria]

Continued from here

14th trial, Saun, 720
Westguard, Etzos
Dusk

"I don't think they'll get much sharper, mate."

"Helps to be sure."

"Don't help t'grind the metal down, do it?"

The boy stopped what he was doing and examined the edge of the sword. Shite. Cady wasn't wrong. He'd honed and honed until he'd gone past honing and was making the edge of the bastard sword more like a bloody razor. Sharp beyond belief but far too brittle for a battle weapon. One could crash would chip it, even break it. That was the key to sharpening a blade, he'd learned. Not too sharp, or rather, not too fine. Sharp enough to cut and slash and tear, but not so fine it would weaken the edge of the metal. Usually, that wasn't a problem for him. But totrial-

You weren't thinking. Just got lost in the motion, the sound, the feeling. Miles away, not even watching what your hands were doing. Still thinking about-

"Fine," he said, putting the blade back on the wall and grabbing another, duller one. "Won't do it again."

"Uh-huh."

Cady's face would no doubt match his doubting expression, so Martyn didn't look around. If he did, they lock eyes and there would be a... chat. About why he was in a mood. About why he wouldn't just tell his friend what was the problem. Oh, he'd try to avoid it, naturally. But it wouldn't work. Cady was tricky, and irritatingly well-intentioned. You couldn't hate him for his prying, but you could damn well try. So instead he sighed and stared at the swords. Speaking without moving.

"... don't wanna talk about it, Cade."

"S'better if ya do."

"No, it really ain't. And it's not like you could understand." Martyn risked a look over his shoulder and saw Cady's confused expression, topped by close-cropped brown hair. "Your old man was brave, and loyal, and true to Etzos. And he was there, when he could be. Mine..." He couldn't speak the entire lie. He had been there, when he could be. When his work allowed. Then Martyn remembered what that "work" was. Rather than fall back into the old nightmare of wondering just how many souls had been snatched from the Waking by his father, he grabbed a rusty sword and set to work. "S'not the same thing."

"I know even if he was a shite, I'd want him here."

Martyn turned all the way around. Cady held his hot gaze and shrugged. More sadness than nonchalance in the gesture. The grief of his whole generation. Young men barely out of boyhood, who lost their fathers or had to become men long before they were ready. In many ways... the two of them were lucky. Cady loved his father, and missed him. Martyn...

"You don't know him."

Cady snorted and shook his head. Glint in his eye that faded after a moment, but reminded everyone that he wasn't quite the blunt busybody many assumed he was.

"Marty, everyone knows your bloody Dad."

It didn't have the intended effect. Martyn whirled back around and slammed the sword against an anvil. Hard enough to knock the excess rust off, but not chip the blade. A measured blow, and one he'd become quite adept at. Recruits like them got all the shit work. Endless cleaning and sharpening and maintaining of the armory was just one of them. He grabbed a wool made of copper chainmail and settled in to work.

"That's the problem, Cady."

"They say he's a hero-"

"He is not a fucking-"

THUNK

Whatever tirade he had planned was cut short by half an ax head slamming into the wooden shutter across the nearest window. A few needles of fading sunlight spilled in. Both boys gawped wordlessly, looking from the ax, to each other, and back, and just as Cady's lips cursed to-

"You little shit!"

Martyn closed his eyes, and muttered something his mother would beat him for.

Why even bother guessing?

[Kasoria]

"You think I won't have you dragged from this gate and thrown in the stockade?"

The little man didn't answer him. Just kept up that level stare and waited. Nader's jaw tightened. The arrogance of this... criminal. Coming to his garrison and laying down the law. As if he had any sort of respect for it. Nader knew his recent history, and whatever sliver of respect he could give the man was grudging, but earned. He had stood in the Crescent Arena. He had fought Sintra. Not just in the abstract, one of many that day. He had faced her. Matched blows with an Immortal and made her bleed. For that shining moment, he was a hero. The Flightmaster was not so blinkered he couldn't see that.

Hero for a trial. Killer for a lifetime. One does not cancel the other. No matter what some pardon says.

"You're already boring me, Kasoria. Jerann? Go inside and bring four men with you. Make sure they're armed. Come back and escort-"

"I'm guessin' yer not a man t'go throwin' away a useful asset, are yeh, Flightmaster?"

Nader blinked. Kasoria suppressed a smirk. That little gesture was as much as a dropped jaw on any other man. His mind had been racking and racing for some in, some ploy, some advantage he could wring from this. He couldn't get violent. Wouldn't. He'd suffered and bled and starved and killed to earn his pardon from the Council. Now across all Etzos, he was no longer The Raggedy Man, hounded by all. He was just Kasoria, with his sins... overlooked, if not forgotten. He wasn't about to throw that away in a petty, futile scrap with militia. No doubt Yusef was just waiting for such an infraction; all the warrant he'd need to drag Kasoria back to the Black Cells.

You can't find. You can't wait. So what else is there?

Be of use.

"We have instructors, sir."

"They ain't me."

"Precisely."

Fuck. Walked into that one.

"Jerann? You have your orders."

The guard hurried away and his partner looked a little paler as a result. Clearly didn't much fancy the prospect of swinging steel at the Raggedy Man with a one-armed Flightmaster as his sole ally. Kasoria's black eyes flitted to him briefly. He wasn't much older than Martyn, but he held himself right. Had some training. Yet even as he looked, he started to see weaknesses. Hands too close together on the spear. Feet cocked out, not both facing him. Most of all, a nervousness that he was covering well, but that faint tremble on the staff...

"Two hundred men here, aye? Skeleton crew fer the biggest outpost in the West. Been recruiting? Aye, sure. An' yeh've got lads trickling in, but teachers?"

"All our instructors are veterans of Rhakros, and the Siege before, and the Crescent-"

The Flightmaster stopped himself a hair too late. Kasoria allowed himself a smile that was definitely not a smirk. Just acknowledging his point was being made... but more impoirtantly, Nader was engaging with him. His pride wanted to best Kasoria, by wit and logic if not by arms. He had to prove he was right and Kasoria was wrong, where he could just stay quiet and wait for his men.

And maybe, just maybe, he does need some real talent whipping his lads into shape. Because much as he hates you, he knows what you can do.

"Be somethin' of a coup for yeh too, wouldn't it?" Kaosria kept his voice cool even as he heard the tramp-crunch of booted feet approaching. Jerann hadn't dawdled. "Kasoria of the Arena, teaching your men. I'd imagine recruits'd come from leagues around to train. Yer numbers would explode. Yeh could expand out, past the walls an' the farms. Not just play defense, leave the outer territories to bandits an-"

"You really think so highly of yourself, do you? That you would be a boon to any town, any garrison, any man who could claim association with you?" Kasoria could have winced at his anger. Damn. Pushed it too far. "What is the use of your skills when they taint everyone around you? Every officer in the Army would shun Westguard as a posting; recruits would be transferred out as fast as they were trained, for fear you would corrupt them-"

"But-" Kasoria said with one finger jutting upward "-they would be trained, an' you know how well."

Another silence. Awkward but encouraging. By the time it was over, Kasoria was surrounded. Loomed over, in fact... though, in fairness, that wasn't unusual for someone his size. When Nader spoke again, his voice was low and controlled. He'd had time to run the numbers, this time. Not just reacting to Kasoria's prodding.

This is it...

"I am not a fool, sir. You seek to be close to Mark Martyn. He does not want that, and I see no reason to allow it. It would be detrimental to the morale of my trooper and thus the effectiveness of the garrison as a whole. If not for him, you would not be making this offer."

"Know that fer sure, do ya? What else wuz I gonna do after I got me pardon? Nothin' on the dark side a' things. No banditry or scratchin' or connin'. Nah. I needed a job, legit and square. An' what else am I fit fer?"

Another silence. The last one. The one where Kasoria could hear the wheels turning and decisions being made. He noted the Flightmaster's fingers fidgeting and drumming on the pommel of his sword. Oh, but he was tempted. The use he could wring out of one so singularly lethal as Kasoria of the Arena. The quiet, unspoken prestige he would gain from his peers, for having ground that ruffian monster under his heel and made him his lackey... more or less. Yet Kasoria could see that kernel of morality, of goodness, wanting to protect Mark Martyn from further pain. But then again...

The greater morality. The promise he made to himself. Never will his men be unready or unprepared again.

Aye, and this odious little shit can get them there.

Flightmaster Nader's eyes flicked around the square in front of the garrison gate. A sparse crowd had gathered, recognizing him and Kasoria in particular. There were whispers and looks, even pointing and gesturing. Fetishes of protection were fingered briefly, as if Kasoria were some kind of daemon. Nader felt his lips curl. Not a daemon. Not a mortalborn. Just a man. With all the malice and cunning and avarice humanity could vomit up, which could certainly rival a godling.

"Half pay."

Kasoria blinked. Frowned. Then understood.

"And you will demonstrate your credentials right now, sir. Fail to do so and the next time you crawl back here, I'll toss you in the stockade and keep you there until you learn never to come back"

"Aye? An' who'll I be demonstrat-"

"Men?" Nader barked roughly, taking a long, smooth step back. His tone was enough to tell his men violence was imminent, and before he'd even finishing stepping, three spears and two swords were leveled at Kasoria. "Subdue him! Now!"

You sneaky fucking-

[Kasoria]

Not fucking around, these boys.

Kasoria barely had time to think the thought and draw his sword before they were on him. He stepped back into something resembling a fighting stance and a spear came careening for his head-

-he ducked under it and skittered backward, but the flitting movement to his side told him they weren't stupid, just green. They'd been trained. Knew to watch their flanks and use them, too. Spears at his front prodded and slashed, drove him back, focused his attention, then from the side-

A grunt of exertion. Telling him what was coming before his eyes saw it, and his gladius lashed up to the right-

CLANG

-blinding flash from Shadowslayer blinding the swordsman for a blink, other hand going to his eyes in confusion-

-as Kasoria's other hand grabbed him by the collar and hurled the boy behind him-

"Shit!"

-straight into the other swordsman, who'd been winding up to slam the pommel of his sword against his skull. Instead the boy's eyes widened as his bleary-eyed partner unwillingly tackled him, both men tumbling down in limbs and curses and clanging metal.

"Not bad," Kasoria spat, rolling his head back and forth for a moment as he confronted the spearmen again. Nader hadn't shifted to much as an inch. Hand on his sword still, tapping it slowly, relentlessly studying him. "Worked the flanks an' got me boxed in."

There was more, but he did not speak it. Now was not quite the time for a lesson and if he knew these lads, or rather, if he knew how they'd been trained-

They lunged as one, spears coming high and low, not waiting for him, yelling as they did-

No posturing, no speeches, no hesitation. Very good.

So what can you teach them, old man?

The spear points shot towards him, without armor or support or mercy, and Kasoria smiled.

Plenty.

The first thrust was knocked aside by Shadowslayer, echo of steel on wood barely hitting the air before the blade moved again-

-smacking the spearman on the side of the head as he stumbled forward, overextending himself on his thrust. The man have a yelp that turned into a growl but before anything else could come out-

-Kasoria's left fist connected with his jaw as he sidestepped, a neat, sharp hook that didn't break anything... but did send a tooth flying as the soldier went staggering, then tottering, then falling.

"Get 'round 'im!"

Another man went low, using the spear tip to slash at Kasoria's knees, driving him back, partner coming around from the side again-

"Fucker!"

The little man could have grinned.

Just had to announce yourself, didn't you?

He didn't look, or think. He reacted. Snapped back his elbow low and behind. The knobbly bone in middle of his arm had been hardened into something like pig iron after decades of regular use, and smashed into the swordsman's groin like a hammer. He knew those two wouldn't stay down long, but at least now one of them wouldn't be an issue. The other one was-

Shit.

-faster and quieter than his friend.

The world exploded into shadow and lightning for a second as something pounded onto the back of his head like a falling star. He grunted and went down to one knee, a day of toil in the fields or in a quarry seeming to sink into his bones within an instant. Everything danced and swam in his eyes. The feet around him, the snarling men, the look on Nader's face-

Smiling. Satisfied. Victorious.

Fuck that-

He let the momentum carry him forward into a roll, right under the swing of the third spearman, seeking to land another blow to the head and finish him. Instead Kasoria came under and past him, popping back up on one knee and-

"Bug-"

-sweeping the man's leg out from under him with his free arm, hooking under his knee and then simply standing up, letting gravity and his legs do all the lifting. The spearman yelped and crashed down onto his back, face red and furious just in time to see-

CRACK

-Kasoria's boot slam down onto his breastplate. All the air exploded out of him, something cracked... but did not break. Nothing mortal, or even lasting. Kasoria was an expert in pain, in damage, in death nd brawling. He knew exactly how to pull his punches. The man would be struggling to breath and probably not throw up for a while, but he wouldn't die... ad now, he had another less body to worry about.

"Yer worryin' too much about hittin' yer mates," he said to the remaining three. They exchanged looks and readied their weapons. "Slows yeh down."

They didn't retort, or snap, or snarl. They just came on with a yell, a single roar of defiance made by three voices, and Kasoria grinned.

Brave lads. See if you're learning...

[Kasoria]

He watched. He studied. He was surprised, once or twice. Grudgingly impressed, though he'd never speak those words out loud. But behind the stoicism he wore like a mask, he was, ultimately, annoyed. Because Kasoria was doing too damn well.

Something else that I'd rather lose teeth than admit.

Flightmaster Nader had been a soldier all his adult life. Granted, never a ranker like his men, but a martial soul nonetheless. He'd been schooled in the sword, dagger, spear, and crossbow since he could hold them. He'd fought bandits and renegades through his career, and then the monsters and cultists of Lisirra and Sintra. He'd been hardened by those years. His hands and mind had become closer entwined. Even after losing his arm, he was still the best blade in most rooms, if not the most... flamboyant.

But he knew, watching Kasoria engage three men at once, three men he'd trained personally, that should they ever come to blows, he would lose. And with that, came the supreme annoyance of knowing he'd b a fool not to take advantage of such skill. At a bargain price, no less.

It's not about him. It's about the boy. He wouldn't even be here if not for him-

CLANG

His mind snapped back to the moment. Kasoria's sword, red steel with blackened runes, flashed through the air like chained lightning. Right, down, left, up again, blade knocking each spear head off course each time. The spearmen kept charging, kept the pressure on, just as he'd told them. Don't hesitate, and don't retreat. Keep in close and don't give your enemy time to breathe. But Kasoria was from the same school. He didn't let himself get herded, kept dancing away, tiring them out, and Nader opened his mouth to-

Don't. This is on them, and you.

Finally one of them - Londry, if he recalled right - got a flash of inspiration. Instead of futilely jabbing at him, he took a giant step to the side and cut Kasoria off from there. By his example, William did the same thing from the right. Spears held out and tight, they jabbed and forced the little man back... to the wall of the armory. For a moment, just a broken blink of time, Nader swore he saw worry flicker over the legend's face. Nowhere to run, now. Just had to sit and-

Use us. Let us out.

Kasoria growled and the twin Spark of Abrogation and Transmutation ceased their barely-sentient whispering. He didn't know if their voices came from his mind, his skin, or his soul, and had stopped wondering. They were he, and he was them. Parasites and sybiotes. Brothers and offspring. Assets and hindrances. But now, he could not call upon them. This was not just a scrap, it was an audition, of his skills as a swordsman and instructor. Magic was a different animal entirely, and he knew Nader would leap on just that reason to deny him the job.

"Will they have magic to call on, Kasoria? Then why act as if they will?!" Fuck me, I can hear it now. No, old boy. Skill and sweat and steel. That's all you get.

And he'd need it for these three. They were learning fast and not wasting any time. His back smacked into the brick wall and he could feel the triumph washing off them. He could dip or dodge away. All he could do was watch the man in the middle, a one-eyed bastard who clearly was not a greenhorn like the kids. He lunged low, right for Kasoria's belly, not wanting to risk him dodging away with a higher strike-

Fuck it. Property damage it is.

The spear point came closer, lunging, flashing, jerking into-

CLANG

-the wall, as Kasoria twisted desperately, free hand snapping down snake-fast to grab it just under the metal tip, and before One-Eye could snatch it back-

-Shadowslayer came down and lopped off the end of it, turning the spear into a staff-

-before launching a sidekick into One-Eye's breastbone even as the old man rasped a curse, knocking him back-

-flinging the spear head at Londry at his side, arm snapping out to flick the wood and metal projectile into the boy's forehead... protected as it was by a helmet. But it struck hard enough, like a tin hammer smacking into a bronze pan, and Londry staggered, yelping, forgotten for a the moment-

Leaving Kasoria to deal with his partner coming in from behind him... and he waited. A dangerous, extra moment. So the boy had to commit, had to put all his momentum into the strike. So he could stop, when Kasoria's had snapped around-

Low!

-leaped up like a grasshopper, spear thrust that would have skewered his leg instead burying itself in the mud. William gasped as he nearly went tumbling over, still gripping the spear, looked up and his face went white in a split second, seeing that red blade swing for his head, so fast and close he could see his face in it-

Wait, that wasn't-

CRUNCH

The flat of Shadowslayer didn't quite break his nose. But it came close. William's head snapped back and Kasoria grabbed him by the collar, ready to deliver the-

Steel flashed. Flat and curved and wicked. One-Eye had pulled a hatchet from its scabbard at his belt. One eye gleaming with murder and outrage, breathing in frothy bubbles from his chest nearly being knocked in. Without pause he raised the weapon and hurled it at Kasoria's head-

"Down!"

-giving the Raggedy Man just a moment to shove William away and out of fire, throwing himself back as he did-

Now it was his turn. Seeing the blade blur before his eyes. Spinning steel so close it could shave the hair off his nose. A brief flash of his own black eyes in the silver, right before-

THUNK

-it smashed into the window shutter, burying itself in there. Face devoid of any humor now, Kasoria turned swiftly to One-Eye, who clearly wasn't finished. He broke the spear shaft across his knee with barely a grunt, hefting a stick in each hand. A quick glance at Londry and William told them that only the former was still an issue; William was more worried about the blood pouring from his nose.

"You little shit!"

Kasoria pointed Shadowslayer. Aching to let his Sparks dance and crackle up that black blade and show this grizzled old fuck what power truly was. But he did not. That was not the aim today. He merely issued his challenge, and he gave the cunt credit: One-Eye didn't so much as pause before he charged.

[Kasoria]

Martyn had nightmares that looked like this. The monster that was his father, coming into the place that had become his home. His family. The men he respected and looked up to. Who treated him as one of them, not just some kid who couldn't even shave. On bad nights when the Emea roiled, he dreamed his father came here. With his sword and his dagger and his magic. Killing his friends. Dragging him back into a great brick and stone cave where he would become like him. Black-eyed and evil.

When he opened the armory door and he saw what was unfolding under the setting sun, he froze. He'd seen this before. Three of his friends, writhing or unmoving, save for pained breathing. Another, Londry, barely on his feet, staggering, eyes unfocused, helmet off and a bruise the size of an apple on his forehead. Old Peyt, as surly as ever, with the remnants of a spear in each hand, advancing on...

Him. Unworried. Unblinking. Barely even sweating. And Flightmaster Nader was just watching, along with everyone else.

Kasoria's bared his teeth like an animal and snapped his sword back into a low guard. Murder dripped from his expression. Old bastard wanted to go beyond scrapping and start trying to kill? Fucking fine by him. The two men came with a sword's length and the crowd stiffened as one for the-

"STOP!"

-impact that never came.

Surprise made One-Eye Peyt stop, both his sticks raised to attack. He knew that voice. Young Martyn, snotty little shit who became Mark recently. Far younger than in Peyt's trial, but desperate times and all that. Seemed an earnest sort, but now when his one eye glimpsed over... he saw fear on the boy's face. Stark and wet and raw. Enough for his weapons to freeze, then slowly fall.

Kasoria stopped because it was the voice of his son. That was all the reason he needed.

Silence, deafening and awkward, dropped over the courtyard. The murmurings of the crowd, what seemed like half of Westguard, did not penetrate it. The three downed men started to lurch and shudder upwards. One-Eye kept glaring, and Kasoria ignored him. He stared at his son, all the ferocity of his expression bled away and forgotten. He looked... frightened. But not for him, his blood and sire. No... what he would do. What blood he would spill.

That's how he sees you, old man. A threat.

"Sergeant Peyt?"

One-Eye snapped to attention as if on parade. Flightmaster Nader strolled over and looked him up and down... then back to the hatchet... then down to the sticks he held.

"Destruction of state property, be it house, cart, spear, or whiskey bottle, is an offense under military law. You know this, yes?"

"Sir, yessir! Thinking creatively, sir!"

Nader's lip twitched. "Yes, well... next time be creative without the destructive, yes? And you..."

He turned to Kasoria, but the sweep of his gaze took in Martyn as well. The boy was bewildered. Why was this happening? What was happening? Why weren't they arresting this man and throwing him in jail, or banishing him? Why did this all seem so... arranged?! Nader tightened his jaw and looked away from the young man. He locked eyes with Kasoria again.

"Well... you proved yourself, sir. Unorthodox, but undeniably skilled."

"So were yer lads. Well-trained. Jus' a few pointers-"

"That won't be be necessary now. You won't be training them today."

"So... I will be training them?"

Nader didn't look at Martyn. He couldn't stand to see the boy's betrayed, beseeching expression. But this man, this lethal little bastard... he was too useful to be thrown away. So he gave a tight smile and nodded.

"Indeed. At half-pay. As befits your... reputation, and the logistical difficulties the Army faces recently." Kasoria's face darkened, as would that of any true Etzori being so blatantly shorted on a deal. "You have something to say, perhaps? Some complaint to make to your new commander and paymaster?"

Swallow it. You got what you wanted. A job, pay, and close to the boy. You can start from there. You'll be training him again, for fuck's sake, it's not like-

"Mark Martyn?"

Kasoria blinked in confusion. What was happening now? Martyn trotted up to the Flightmaster and stood to attention. Fates, but he'd grown. He opened his mouth to speak but dared not. Too many eyes and ears, and the ice under his feet was still paper-thin. Nader kept speaking without looking at the boy.

"You are promoted to my personal staff. Starting tomorrow morning, I will see personally to your combat instruction."

"You-"

He almost raised his sword. Every instinct told him to. This man sought to keep him from his son. The last family he had in the whole world. The sneer on the Flightmaster's well-bred face was just aching for a fist, a blade, anything! Then he heard the slightest gasp from next to him. Martyn's eyes bored into his own. Wide and brown and guileless. Everything his own were not.

It's Yusef all over again. Baiting you. Provoking you. Trying to make you act like you would in the past. But it ain't the past. So be something else.

Show him you can change, old man.

In a gesture that seemed to physically hurt him, Kasoria sheathed his sword, and more slid than snapped to attention.

"When do I start... sir?"

He flicked a glance at Martyn. The boy looked away. Long was to go, aye... but he wasn't going anywhere, now.

[Fate]

Your Review

Kasoria

Overview

Hello Kasoria. This has been a good read. The way you moved between actions, thoughts, and the sparks speaking as very good. Also your balance of action and his thoughts is good as you help show how he is feeling in nice phrasing. Thank you for the read. Fate

Points

XP: 10
Renown: 5 - Beating people up has that effect.

Loot

Knowledge

Played to Level
Socialization: Selling Your Skills
Socialization: Finding Not Just One Selling Point, But Several
Teaching: Imparting Useful Critique Even Under Stress

If you have any questions or concerns regarding this review - drop me a PM.