Chapter three: Rags to stitches

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Commoners pave way for the man of victory as they attempt to find his face before the wind takes him again while he gallops on the secure mount, passing by the souks, and trailed by numerous of his troupes. There is lurid cheering alongside the entire market and every Tom, Dick, and Harry is so fervent to spot the hue of his skin, the métier in his dimensions, something to stir the already ravaging anecdotes about who he was.

Prior to his grandeur, no one had heard the forename, Solaith before, but out of the blue, he has become the most prominent and widespread man in United Lands. It got inclusive and vaster when the news of troth to the Siwan Tribe prefecture princess came into life.

All and sundry who knew about her household or witnessed her presence in the community alleged that she would be held in reserve for the imperial family descendants or relations. No one, not in a millennium did they think the prime minister would send his spoiled daughter over to the hands of a man who has known nothing, other than destitution in his entire existence.

It was utterly profound to everyone who heard the news.

Solaith and his men lunge their horses swiftly along the lane as he and his men return from the capital after several formalities with the King's briefings. He and his kinsmen had been granted titles in royal edicts conferred by the Sovereign himself who was preparing a ball in rectitude of all his combatants who jeopardized their life in mêlée for the United Lands.

As if it was only about the title, not only is he partitioned a general of his homeland army, Solaith Fierce was asked for his hand in marriage with the most proper young woman of the United Lands. And apart from being the most suitable woman, they have a deep rooted relationship that ran in his childhood years, also one he finds hard to forget.

These are retentions of when he was nothing but a mendicant who was taken in by a large household of a different tribe. A household that had gore tints of his family on their hands, how could he nap under their gable with them, eat the sustenance of their hands, the same ones that flounced his family?

Solaith evokes how hard headed he stood when he was taken in and offered to work as an employee for a roof over his head, but what he sought more than anything was to be sent away. And he got his desire after a number of attempts by the household to break him; their strategies were futile for he had already been broken beyond man's knowledge or skills.

He remembers when he was consigned to work for the daughter of the house, Solaith recalls seeing her have lessons on music, pirouetting, he still knows the melody that she played with her own hands, he hasn't overlooked the crusade of her legs when she danced.

They never spoke to each other, not once, he followed her around as he was ordered to, and their eyes would always strike each other's. But, he would never say a word to her, his eyes held no sentiment towards anyone, but when she was unaware? That was when Solaith's audacious eyes became somber, but no one ever got to see it.

Solaith almost grins as the grime of the earth gets bothered, thinning out into the air like gun powder. One hand rests on the reins of the beast, and the other is seated at the edge of his blade and his sharp grey eyes focuses on the sooty conduit on which he and his men file in.

The troupe are about two hundred as they fill in the entire public space and each person paves way for the hero of United Lands and his combatants that braced the precincts of the capital.

Solaith's has a truncated cut of locks that doesn't even draw out of his forehead; growing up in the war front, one has no precaution on appearance other than training and survival knowledge. The shade of his skin is glistening like gold as his unswerving presence in the sun has set on him a bronzed skin that endures harsh amount of sun, a hue of brown.

As the horses dash forth, his unclad shirt reveals the tattoos that are all over his torso, scattering to his arms and neck, he is beyond doubt the barbarian they call him as his manner of posture, unbending behavior and expertise in the desolate are all embodied on his physical casing.

Like fate, Solaith's shrill eyes falls on a lady who has her hand over her brow, staring into the sunlit ether and he remembers her. He wrenches the horse to a stop at the focal point of the large jamboree of people who have been waiting to see him, and there, the woman that arrests his eyes lets her hand down, and he identifies her face like yesterday's memory.

Those sea green eyes are the first ones he ever saw, and he marvels if everything she saw through those lenses were as the colors of her eyes. Solaith watches her silky hair rave in the squally wind, and delays for her to sight him. Before that materializes, he witnesses her open her mouth to consume something from the hands of a woman who delights her with excess care.

There is merriment in her eyes as she breathlessly walks out of the large shop, and then, at a final point she is standing in front of him and the beast. Solaith gazes at her as she stands beneath and firstly, her eyes guise through the ensemble that followed behind him, and immediately there are several soldiers that stand in front of her against the multitude of troupe, and Solaith comprehends that it is for her safety since he and his men are quite intimidating.

Solaith jumps off the horse and edges closer towards her.

The community is gathered at large and everyone is just watching an act to take place in inquisitiveness. He is the man who returned from a lethal encounter and she is a woman who will join in marriage to one below her status, how is that not enough theatre for the entire community to put a pause on.

As Solaith walks closer, he apprehends that her eyes stare back at him without dread; she doesn't take a step back or blinks an eye. At this point, he becomes insecure, a sickness that he didn't think he could feel again.

In his mind he is wondering what she sees as she looks at him , is she judging him?

"Is she equaling him to the common servant that he used to be ? What if she's questioning how a man like him stands beside her, he shouldn't breathe the same air as she?

Solaith is three feet away from her, and he still can't read guess the demeanor of her elliptical face.

Who are you?

Her voice reaches his ear and it is the strangest thing he has ever heard, it echoes in his brain and he wants to fix it on repeat, but he figures he has to answer.

Do you not recognize me?

Solaith says.

The lady behind the sea green eyed woman gasps and undertones something in her ear, and he sees a strain in her eyes as the woman relays the message. Solaith watches her face him again and this time, she raises her head and turns around.

"You must have arrived back from the capital, please rest, solider." She says and tries to walk away.

"I'm pleased to meet you again." Solaith says as he tucks his hand into his pocket and walks forward.

Solaith wants to know what stirs up in her eyes now. He wants to know if it is dread or ignominy, he had agreed to this alliance for one purpose only, but he needs to be ready for anything else too.

He walks closer once again and this time, they are probably only two feet apart which he now crosses.

The girl turns immediately, her eyes flash with something valiant and Solaith finds a blade on his neck.

"Not another step, where are your manners?" Her speech is imposing, he didn't see it imminent.

Feet apart he can see the structure of her adult face and character she has become, he couldn't have imagined it. He can't read her eyes or see what she's hiding behind those green jade lenses.

Solaith stares at the blade hanging on his neck and the small hands holding it.

"My apologies." I have been away from the world for far too long that I've failed to recall the basic decorum of the modern society." I'm a barbarian after all.

Solaith immediately reads the next exploit of her eyes, some form of warmth as she releases the footing on his collar, and he insists that he sees her eyes gape for a moment at his indecent chest.

Till we see again? She says, pushing the small blade into its sheath.

"That would be tonight." Solaith says and she stares back at him, he can see that she's uninformed but nevertheless, she pretends to know that she would be seeing him tonight.

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