A Journey Always Begins With The First Step

[adi]

The scholar had expected the situation to be less chaotic then what ensued. He had envisioned that the tattooed man would open the suitcase, perhaps root around the contents a bit, and a silent and intricate sign language would be spoken and they would abandon their pursuit. Then he would be able to walk into the village, check into some place of lodging and rest and forget anything ever happened. The boy would have to deal with his loss, and Hrothgar would have to deal with the guilt that he had a small hand in causing this boy to lose something valuable.

Instead he watched, stunned as a geyser of paper exploded from the suitcase, mouth unceremoniously dropping open in awe. He was not a stranger to the practices of magic; he had been enamored with it when he was younger. But he had shown no natural talent for it, and had given up any attempt pretending he could ever amount to any sort of magician. He was barely able to grasp the basics of his tutors and professors’ teachings, dismally unable to conjure even the smallest spark of flame. Despite his apparent lack of ability, magic could still inspire a sense of trepidatious wonder in him. And he did feel some sense of fear in how the papers made their slicing cyclone, eyes catching lines of stories and epics he was certain he had read before and evoking a hazy feeling of déjà vu in the back of his mind.

Snapped out of his awe by the boy’s hurried command, the redhead was pulled towards the sudden break of paper whizzing through the air. He had really no second thought to stick around to deal with the aftermath of a pissed off and paper cut trio and followed as quickly as he could. His pace was invigorated with the dangerous motivation of running into Braxa and his companion’s ire. Hrothgar tugged his arm out of the boy’s grip as soon as he was sure the idea that he was coming along was established.

He tried not to stare as the papers fluttered so calmly and politely back into the suitcase that the boy carried. It was magic, there really should be nothing that should be out of the ordinary for someone who had some knowledge of how it worked. But to Hrothgar, it was an enigma, and seeing the end of the trick, the spell, the enchantment or whatever it was exactly that made the paper and case act in such ways was unsettling. It seemed almost rude to watch, though he couldn’t begin to explain why.

It was if he had gotten to the end of a fireworks display, and stuck around to watch the presenters walk around and pick up the charred remains of the casings. It was like he wasn’t meant to see this part of it. It was a stupid feeling, he rationalized, to be having while they were running from such imminent hazards. Still, the redhead deliberately avoided speaking up and watching the rest of the paper filter into the case until he heard the small metallic click. He didn’t know why he began thinking in twos, why he was concerned with the boy’s safety at all. He had escaped the trio of thugs, of whom he had no business with in the first place. He supposed he had established some form of contract with the boy, and needed to honor it. Contracts were sacred things, countless stories and histories could attest to this. Only bad things could come of breaking your word, even if none had ever been exchanged.

“I don’t know--” he admitted to the boy between hurried breaths. “—this town.” His hands gripped his satchel with a white knuckled grip that made his freckles look even darker. He tried not to stumble in his steps as he looked around in vain for some marking of a shelter. Was this town even big enough to have a temple in which they could claim sanctuary? It did not even seem large enough to have anything more then a chapel, which could easily be forced into and the unwritten conduct of sanctuary ignored.

Then again, that’s where a scholar would look to hide, wouldn’t it? He wasn’t in a very clear state of mind to be trying to think from the opposing side, but taking sanctuary in a place of worship was a very cowardly thing to do. As much as the idea appealed to him, he had a feeling in his gut that it would be the first place checked, and if they were likely no strangers to following people. They would pick up on the first hint of their passage and follow their trail like a pack of wolves keeping pace and wearing out a panicked dee—That was it! If they could not out run the trio, he could at least plant some false leads in order to buy them more time.

Hrothgar stopped abruptly, turning a sudden corner throwing his satchel over his shoulder to the ground in front of him. He withdrew the first book his shaking fingers could grasp, a tattered looking leather bound journal with dozens of loose papers. It was his dream log that he used to record his nightly visions. He had poured so many hours into decoding the dramatic night imaginings; he almost physically ached as he made to rip out a fistful of pages. But he did so with a small and pained grunt, a few small bookmarks fluttering to his feet. He couldn’t spend time debating which book to sacrifice, time was a dear and precious commodity when someone was in pursuit.

Hrothgar shouldered the pack of his belongings again, and made a waving gesture with his handful of pages that could have been a farewell or am order to keep running in the same direction. He held the dream log in his opposing hand, held open at his chest like a ragged, scrawled-upon bird. Either way he didn’t find any words to speak, instead the scholar began running perpendicular to their previous paths. His grip was loose on the pages and he dropped them every few strides, hoping that these bird’s feathers would look as though they slipped through a half-open suitcase rather than a sweaty, freckled fist.

[Nayt]

"What's-- WHAGH-!!"

And despite everything, the whirlwind of paper that gathered about them from within the suitcase, the way the tattooed man desperately tried to shut it in hopes of ending the mess, the way the woman swatted at paper coming her way like it was some sort of serious and genuine enemy, and the way it hurt when the side of a piece smacked him in the cheek, Braxa could do little more than sigh.

It wasn't long after the boy and the scholar arrived in Ceildh that they might catch an image in the distance. A swirling mess of paper became, for the briefest of moments, a swirling mess of fire, and then ash upon the ground. Three silhouettes at the scene seemed to exchange ill intended words with one another. This occupied their attention for some time.

The town of Ceildh had its comforts. There were inns (a couple of competing ones, for that matter!), a healthy sized tavern, a club here and there, and, of course, a church. Few towns with a population greater than fifty people lacked in the category of religious establishments. There was only one here in Ceildh, and it was on the far side of town, but as the only three story building in a town full of single story homes and businesses, it was something of a tower. Separating these structures into poorly organized blocks--or, more often, misshapen rhombuses--were dirt roads, and somewhat well kept dirt roads at that. They were light colored and fairly clean, making the personal debris of the scholar extremely visible and conspicuous, even to someone who knew little of what was going on.

No doubt, the three chased them into Ceildh. It was the only way they could have gone. Even the cover of a tornado of paper couldn't conceal this.

And after what might feel like hours (but would actually take up a total of forty five minutes of laying down false traces of their existences), it would be unlikely that the two would personally see the trio again--or, at the very least, not in the very near future. Granted, it might have been best if they kept a low profile while in his city, but still . . .

[Zach Kaiser]

The boy's face grew pained as they ran; though he didn't turn around, he stopped being able to feel some of his paper as he started pulling them back into the suitcase. That could only mean they were destroyed, a thought that upset him greatly.

So greatly that he followed the scholar's lead without objection. If he had to mourn the loss of material important to him, he thought sullenly, then there was no reason why the other man shouldn't do the same. Though, it was unlikely he placed the same value on the written word as the boy did.

After around an hour of mixed running and creeping, the boy could go no further. He wasn't athletic in the least, and it wouldn't have been a stretch to say this was the most exercise he'd gotten in quite some time. Panting heavily, he slumped down against a wall in the alleyway they were currently going through. He was sweating profusely, and his cheeks burned with exertion.

He didn't call out to the scholar or make any other indication that he was stopping; he merely hung his head, looking extremely depressed, as though he'd just suffered a great loss.

[adi]

Hrothgar’s intentions when he began laying a false trail were that of a selfish kind. He intended that the two of them would split up, and his small debt to the boy would be repaid through his attempts at distraction. He hoped that whatever karmic scale he stood on would have tipped in his favor, to slant to his optimistic plans of putting the whole situation behind him.

But the boy had followed him, and now slumped against an alleyway wall. While the scholar could have spoken up and told him to get away from him and untangled himself from the lad’s affairs, something held him back from doing so. He could have just kept walking, to leave the boy behind to fend for himself and continue on with his life. So he was a bit perplexed as his feet slowed and he took the opportunity to catch his own breath. He was not a paradigm of physical achievements by any means, but he wouldn’t be lying if his previous travel hadn’t somehow improved his endurance to what it measured up to a few weeks previous. Why would he feel guilt? He did not cause the boy to be chased by that trio, nor did he necessarily need the boy’s assistance in escaping. Guilt was the most likely suspect for his slowing, and the word that slipped past his lips in a mumble.

“M’sorry.”

Hrothgar often experienced trouble with guilt, the feeling rising up unbidden at the slightest provocation. Then again, the entire situation seemed almost fantastical, and for a few moments of unfocused thoughts the scholar could believe that he was a pivotal character in a cosmic display of storytelling. He looked down at the half-destroyed journal in his hands with a frown. In his haste to lay the trail, he had ripped pages out at random, not stopping to place one dream above the other.

In retrospect he felt a small pang of regret, as a large collection of recent pages had been sacrificed. There had not been time on his way to really look and analyze the last few terrors he had envisioned at his time at the institution. He had been looking forward to finding the time to decipher them more intricately. He closed the book and looked over at the boy with the pained look on his face, not knowing exactly how to break the suffocating silence.

“My name is Hrothgar. Hrothgar Reid,” the redhead offered quietly. When in doubt, polite introduction. “May I ask your name?”

[Zach Kaiser]

The boy looked up at him, startled by his apology. Did he know why he was sad? Probably not; the man would no doubt think he was loony if he did, and though that thought didn't normally bother him much the last thing he wanted was to put him off enough to have him run and tell the thugs where he was.

"...Aiden," he replied after a minute. "Aiden Raine."

While he'd been aware of the man before, for the first time he really looked at him as though he was more than just a moving obstacle. "Hrothgar?" he repeated skeptically. The name Hrothgar brought certain ideas to his mind, ideas involving large, burly, muscular men with horned helmets and battle axes.

"...You don't look like a Hrothgard," he couldn't help but point out.

[adi]

“Yeah, no. I get that a lot.” Hrothgar nodded, a rueful smile turning his lips up in a faint smile despite the situation.

It was true, many people could not connect a powerful sounding name to the scholar. Even his name brought disappointment. The half-happy expression faded quickly. Named after a famous man in a warrior-poet society, and yet he couldn’t even get a handle on the easier, latter half of his namesake. The only thing he seemed to share with his namesake was unbridled stubbornness, but he didn’t inherent the spine that could make it worthwhile.

“You seem like an Aiden, though.” Hrothgar offered. He had met two Aidens in his life previously. The first had been a companion of his father’s who had purchased several storybooks for him, and the second had been a boy he had been tutored with. He had become friends with both. It was a quiet, studious seeming name, in Hrothgar’s experience. “It’s a smart name.”

For the now the danger of being chased seemed to be minimal, though he knew it was stupid to assume that it was completely gone. Now that the adrenaline rush was beginning to turn into fatigue, it hit the scholar as if his satchel were filled with bricks. He leaned against the building behind him and slid into a crouch, allowing himself a small reprieve.

Hrothgar was tapped for ideas. He had the shining brilliance to lay the false trail, but what good had it done them? They would probably be caught if they stayed in town, and if they left town they would probably not get very far before exhaustion took them or rumor betrayed them. And why did he feel the need to continue associating with the boy? They had helped each other; their mutual debts had been theoretically paid. But whether it was guilt or some sense of protecting an innocent, Hrothgar couldn’t be sure.

“That man, Braxa. What does he want from you, anyway?” he finally asked after a few moments of contemplation. Perhaps if he could get some background on the situation he would be able to make up his mind to stay with the boy or leave him behind.

[Zach Kaiser]

He hadn't intended to insult the man or anything; it wasn't always a bad thing to have a name that didn't suit oneself. Aiden's own name gave a person a pretty clear idea of what they would expect, for better or worse; conversely, a traveler named Hrothgar would not likely be sought for ill by any who knew of just his name. Sometimes it was better to play against type.

"I'm...not sure," he answered at length. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't trust him--the scholar had tried to help him, after all--but that he was unused to discussing any personal matters with people.

He decided to relay his suspicion in part; it wasn't the thought itself he didn't wish to share, after all, it was only the memories that followed from there. "There was a man back home who caused some trouble for me, but whether or not it's him I don't know."

There wasn't much he could do on that front to find out, though; the only way he could know for sure why the thugs were after was to ask them, and if it was up to him he wouldn't be seeing them again. It was good thing he already had eyes in the back of his head.

"In any case...have you heard of a book fair here in town?" he asked. It was a bit of a change of subject, but at the thought of it his eyes lit up with anticipation.

[adi]

Hrothgar could understand if the boy didn’t wish to share much personal information with him. They just met after all, and while they made a small alliance, the scholar couldn’t expect an instantaneous friendship. He nodded in place of speaking, content to let that particular thread of conversation wither.

“No, I haven’t.” Hrothgar answered to the boy’s question. He was surprised that book fairs even seemed to happen in smaller towns and cities. It was something he had only seen a handful of times, and each had been in Ivernia. The events seemed so natural and commonplace to his home city that he never questioned that a similar occurrence would happen elsewhere. They were fascinating, and while a bit boring when he had been a little boy, the scholar had since grown to appreciate and enjoy them.

“I really only meant to say a night or two resting and keep moving.” The redhead admitted. He did not have an inkling as to how far he would go in his travels or if he would even stop any time soon. The thought of walking away and increasing between him and the place of his night terrors was the most comforting one he had, so he had followed through on it. “And in any case, I think if I would go to it, I would only tempt myself to buying something that I would not necessarily need.”

[Zach Kaiser]

Aiden tilted his head to the side slightly, not understanding what he was saying. He wasn't sure why anyone who would enjoy books would decide they were something they didn't need--his dilemma was that he rarely had enough money to buy everything he wanted at book fairs (which was, granted, everything) and even less room to store them when he did buy things.

In response to Hrothgar's last comment, he nodded mutely. It was probably for the best that he move on, maybe not even stay more than a single night. Though he hadn't really done anything to the thugs, he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that was enough--if this were some kind of story, he'd already be inexorably drawn into something.

Then again, perhaps. Aiden didn't think of himself as main character material; he wasn't the kind of person who was going to draw allies to him--besides, this incident would be over soon. All he needed to do was stay away from the thugs until he was done with the fair; once he was home, those thugs would pose no threat to him.

He reminded himself of that, to try and take his thoughts away from how dangerous they were to him while he was here.

[adi]

“I could probably see if they have some blank journals or something. Maybe a nice pen.” Hrothgar mused with a shrug. He was speaking more to himself then to Aiden as he flipped once more through the old journal in his hands. It looked like a rather worn book at the start of his journey, and frantically tearing out pages in the past hour or so did nothing to help its appearance.

If one could describe it as worn before, decimated would be a more adequate word now. The spine was flimsy with the newfound lack of pages, and in his haste to open the journal the paper-thin shabby leather strap that held it shut had finally snapped at the crease. The loose notations and bookmarks were one great gust of wind away from being sent flying into the air. To put it quite frankly, it looked like a piece of junk. A piece of junk that the scholar probably owed his sanity to, but still a piece of junk nonetheless.

A replacement journal would be good for him. It would last much longer than this collection of papers, and copying over his writings would give him something to do when he needed to rest. With a small sigh through his nose, the scholar dropped the journal into his satchel and heaved it back onto his shoulder. He remained where he was, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“So,” he said after a small moment of silence. “You seem to know at least a bit more about Ceildh then I do. Any clue where a cheap inn could be?”

[Zach Kaiser]

The boy shook his head. He wasn't sure what he mentioned to give that impression, as his knowledge of the area was limited to the general location of the town and that there was supposed to be a tremendous book fair going on soon.

"I saw something that looked like a library...I was going to go there," he replied instead. He wasn't terribly worried about where he'd sleep, so much as he wanted the comfort of being surrounded by that which could fill his senses the most. It made him feel secure, and given the nature of his ability it was not necessarily a false security.

Plus, he was certain they would have more information on the fair. He...wasn't entirely sure what day it was, and while he was pretty sure he hadn't missed it he could have been early, which would explain why he hadn't noticed anything resembling a book fair when they were running through town.

[adi]

"Ah." Hrothgar made a small noise as he watched the boy shake his head. Of course, it was stupid to have assumed that the boy knew anything more about Ceildh then he did. They both had just arrived there, why should the other had any more inclination to research then he had?

"Do you.. Do you mind if I came with?" the scholar asked, running his thumb along the strap of his satchel. Now that danger was not quite so imminent, his social awkwardness was slowly beginning to creep back into his mannerisms. "We can part ways afterwards, if you wish. But if I find the library then I can probably ask about local inns and such."

"A-And the book fair," the redhead added with what he hoped was a cordial smile. "We can find out when it is and if we should stop for it."

[Nayt]

The library of Ceildh was a few blocks just to the north of Hrothgar and the boy. It was easy to reach, and actually visible from their position if they tilted to the left a little. As Ceildh was a small town, it didn't boast a particularly large library. It was only a single floor building, and while the words "public library" were clear on the top of the entry arch, it was only about the size of a six room house. This allowed enough room for at least a semi-respectable selection, but it was unlikely that it had anything remotely obscure--Ulsterian classics and a few contemporary works, and that was probably all.

A quick departure may have been for the best. Already, the two of them would be able to hear voices to the south of them, some odd blocks down the road--or one voice, rather. It wouldn't take long to figure out the man it belonged to, even if they couldn't understand what he was saying.

It was Braxa. And he was steamed.

Vacating in the very near future, be it to the library or otherwise, was probably the best idea.

[Zach Kaiser]

For a few seconds after he spoke Aiden stared at Hrothgar, head cocked to the side slightly, before he replied, "I don't mind." He would have thought that the scholar would want to ditch him as soon as possible--surely he figured that being near an apparently wanted man was dangerous.

But he supposed it was up to him; perhaps he thought the thugs would take their anger out on him if they caught him without their intended prey nearby.

As if to remind them of their situation, a loud, angry voice echoed into the alleyway. Unease infected Aiden's expression; he was unused to needing to worry about his personal safety. He wondered if what he was feeling was fear.

"We should go," he murmured, rising to his feet and starting north down the alleyway, away from the voices.

[adi]

Hrothgar nodded and removed himself from where he had previously been leaning on the wall. He was not deaf, he could hear the angry tones from the south. He paused a few seconds for the younger of the two to pass by him and followed him closely.

He wasn't sure why he chose to put himself between the boy and the angry voices. Normally he would have all interests in preserving his own well-being, but if he was being completely honest with himself he was very curious about this whole situation. It wasn't often that such a chance meeting happened, it would seem like he was doing a disservice to some unseen story writer to not see how it progressed. In any case, thinking about it in that manner seemed to keep his mind off his previous weariness.

Hrothgar approached the library in slight haste, trying to put distance between himself and the voices he had heard previously. He reached a hand out to the round of the front arch, using the momentum of his pace to swing him around it into the building proper. It was a small library, nothing compared to the expansive sea of books he had been exposed to in his education, but he almost instantly took a liking to it. The building felt like his father's library, small and almost cozy, and used less for studying and more for escaping into the books. He looked around briefly for some official looking desk or person to question.