**ELENA'S POV**
We are back to walking in silence, I thought with the lovely promise he made to Chloe that this bastard would treat me well but no, the morning showers still arrive and with my own water skin, he refuses to refill it and so I've been walking without rest and without water. He is also wearing his mask and his usual attire I don't know why I was expecting something different. Also am grateful to Ava at least now I won't wander around with this mercenary with one clothe.
I miss Ava dearly; she was the one who treated me like a human being, acknowledging my presence and offering a sense of companionship. In stark contrast, this man sees me as nothing more than burdensome baggage. With every step we take, the disparity becomes more pronounced. The only noticeable change from our past travels is the relentless pace he sets, pushing us forward at an annoying speed. His eyes, sharp and watchful, scan the surroundings with an intensity that sends a chill down my spine. Each rustle of leaves or distant sound prompts his hand to instinctively reach for an arrow, bowstring taut. It's as if he expects danger to materialize at any moment, heightening my own sense of unease.
My lungs burned with each breath, and my legs ached from the relentless pace. Desperate for respite, I mustered the strength to speak through gasps, "Can we... take a break?"
His response was swift and uncompromising, a blunt "No," that cut through the air like a whip.
"Why?" I asked.
"because I fucking said so," he said like always his back was facing me. "and keep this up and I swear that you'll be sleeping hungry tonight,"
"huh is Chloe's promise really worth so little?" I asked.
That got a reaction out of him he turned around and glared at me as he made eye contact.
"you know am really tempted to break it right now," he said. "annoying little shit," he softly grumbled before turning his back against me.
"you... Know... You really have no etiquette," I said, "saying vulgar words in front of a woman,"
I think I heard a chuckle come out of him but this man is probably not even capable of smiling let alone laughing.
"yes you royals with your dumb etiquettes," he said.
I stopped where I was, "etiquette isn't dumb but I wouldn't expect an uncouth mercenary to know."
He also stopped turned around, looked at me and crossed his arms around his chest.
"oh really, so what if this uncouth mercenary shows you the flaws in your, oh so royal etiquette will you promise to keep your trap shut?"
Hmm, mother spent her entire waking hours trying to teach me the etiquette royalty are supposed to follow and he thinks he can find a flaw when I couldn't.
" okay fine, "I said.
" fascinating, so question can a maid hold the kings hands? "he asked.
" no a maid cannot, "if this is going to be his argument then he is going to lose.
" oh then can a maid hug the king? "
" of course not if hand holding is not permissable then how can hugging be? "I retorted seeing as his pathetic attempt to prove me wrong crash.
" okay fair enough then can a maid kiss the king? "he asked.
" no yuck! "I retorted.
" okay last question, do maids help the king take a bath? "he asked.
" yes, every king needs services right it's just normal, "I said.
" so a maid can't hold the king's hand, they can't hug or kiss him but they can touch his naked body. Hmm you people drew the line at a very strange place right? "he said with raised eyebrows.
" that's.... "wait how come I've never thought of that he beat me I just stood there mouth open as I tried to add something.
" so much for etiquette, now quiet down and let's continue, "he added and we went back to our journey.
I wanted to refute him, I wanted to so badly but what could I say, but that's just a perverted thing to think about but does that also mean that all the kings are perverts. No I need to stop thinking about this. He did have a point we don't allow the maids any form of interaction with us but we allow them to see our privates most of the royals view them as filthy but we tell them to cleanse us we really are hypocrites.
The setting sun cast long shadows across the landscape as the sky began to darken, signaling the approach of evening. Amidst this shifting light, the mercenary found a suitable spot for us to make camp. With a gesture, he indicated that I should assist him in setting up the tent we had acquired from the Aeneases. Together, we worked efficiently, utilizing our combined skills to secure the shelter for the night. Once the task was complete, he took charge, igniting a fire that flickered and crackled, casting a warm glow in the gathering dusk. As the flames danced and the aromatic scent of burning wood filled the air, he left me momentarily, venturing into the surrounding wilderness to procure our next meal. Left alone, I found myself contemplating the solitude and silence of the encroaching night, while eagerly anticipating his return with sustenance.
The mercenary returned to our campsite, his presence accompanied by the distinct scent of blood and the weight of a slain stag upon his shoulder. With a forceful thud, he dropped the lifeless animal onto the ground, a display of strength and prowess. Without wasting a moment, he expertly set to work, swiftly and skillfully skinning the beast, revealing its raw, glistening flesh beneath. His hands moved with practiced precision, removing the innards with calculated efficiency. Once the necessary preparations were complete, he placed the carcass atop the crackling flames, allowing it to roast and sizzle, the aroma of succulent meat filling the air. It was a scene that showcased his primal survival instincts and resourcefulness, a testament to his ability to provide sustenance in the unforgiving wilderness.
The mercenary settled himself on the ground, his body positioned with an air of alertness and readiness. With deliberate movements, he unsheathed one of his blades, the metal glinting in the firelight. The weapon found its place in his hand, resting comfortably within his grasp. There was a sense of familiarity and ease as he held it, a connection that seemed almost innate. It was as if the blade was an extension of himself, a companion that provided him with a sense of security and purpose.
In that moment, I couldn't help but notice a certain tranquility that washed over him, a calmness that accompanied the presence of his weapon. It was as though the act of wielding it brought him a sense of inner peace, akin to how a wild beast feels empowered and grounded by the strength of its own claws. There was a unique bond between the mercenary and his weapons, one that transcended mere utility. It hinted at a deeper connection, an understanding and respect that surpassed the surface level. It was in these moments that I caught glimpses of the complex layers that made up his character, a man whose essence seemed intertwined with the tools of his trade.
The tantalizing scent of the roasting stag permeated the air, teasing our senses and whetting our appetites. The aroma wafted through the campsite, infusing the surroundings with an alluring allure that made the anticipation of the meal almost tangible. The mercenary, ever vigilant, recognized the signals of readiness in the fragrance. With a purposeful stride, he made his way to the fire where the stag was being cooked to perfection.
Using his blade with practiced precision, he deftly carved off a substantial piece of meat from the leg, its succulent juices oozing with flavor. He handed the generous portion to me, a silent gesture of sharing amidst the harshness of our journey. The meat was still warm, the seared outer layer locking in the rich tenderness within.
As he resumed his task of preparing the rest of the meal, his focus remained unwavering. The rhythmic sounds of his skilled hands, slicing and separating the meat, echoed through the quietude of the camp. It was a symphony of efficiency and expertise, a display of his survival instincts and resourcefulness.
I don't know maybe it was the fullness of my stomach but, I finally found the courage to speak up against him.
"About earlier, our etiquette isn't as flawed as you make it," I said. I know that you are wondering why I'm trying to argue with a man who can chop off my head in the blink of an eye, but I guess I can't let what my mother taught me be insulted.
"really you are still hung up on that?" he asked his eyes on his blade but his tone showing surprise that am still invested in our past conversation.
"well you mercenaries don't follow any etiquettes so it's natural that you would try to find the flaw in ours," I added.
"you know be grateful to Chloe otherwise I would have broken your jaw and dislocated your shoulder," was all he added eyes on the reflection of the flames dancing on his blade.
"see what I mean, you are rude, violent and you have no respect or...." I was about to say more but he had roughly stabbed the ground with his scimitar.
"NOT A WORD," he carefully worded.
But since I have already started might as well finish it like Ava says focus on the good not the bad, he may hit me but at least I would have said my mind.
"well at least as royals don't harm others, you say you hate us but it's because of a stupid reason maybe royalty don't pay for your services that can only be the reason for your hate,"
His eyes were now sending dagger at me but it felt like I was possessed the anger I felt on the day he tried to strangle the life out of me reinforced with the promise he made to Chloe about not hurting me made me say what I thought.
" royalty have a sense of duty, responsibility and honor we don't just kill who we feel like unlike you who would kill anyone as long as the price is right," I spat out, I could feel the veins in my neck bulge out as I struggle not to yell out
The mercenary started laughing but for some reason his laugh was terrifying than his anger.
"say that again, duty, responsibility and honor," he said calmly but his fists betrayed his words as he clenched them tightly"bullshit! You royals are worse than demons when you choose to be at least I have a reason to show my cruelty! I was five years old when you assholes decided to make me an orphan where is the honor in that! Showing a fucking five year old what death looks like! And here you are saying you don't harm others! I saw what the insides of my sister looked like! Do you know what that feels likes? You royalty have a duty to your people but they are the ones that suffer when you people declare war, they are the ones who pay you, people literally pay you to rule them, "he shouted his voice filled with venom.
" so don't sit here and tell me that royalty have responsibilities! For your information the only people who can afford my services are your own people, "he said," and before I break Chloe's trust, "
He stood up, dug the sword from the ground and walked deep inside the woods leaving me out here alone regretting my words.