Chapter 19

All good things end.

As well as our time with the Orombuc tribe.

It was... trying. And this is coming from someone who has slept in cabin quarters overcrowded with swine-smelling sailors. I am a dear friend to discomfort as I am no stranger to starvation and yet trying to be 'one with the people' has been no easy feat to achieve assimilation.

And yet I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. I learnt so much, far more than just reading about places and people from books. I got to live it, taste their foods, walk their paths and become a part of them. Even though it was just for a time.

Whilst our guards and Duce Merian prepare for our exodus from Shamburn, with the aid of some of the Oromians. The Herems and I are in the Chieftain's hut to receive a blessing from none other than the Augur herself. Their sleeping hut is more lavish, in a very bucolic kind of way. There are dual pristine mats centred at the head of the hut, decorated by colourful hand-woven layers. Ornamental carafe-size statues and clay pottery encircle the interior like a holy shrine.

All of us are lined up on our knees, our heads bowed. All she has done so far is pace in front of us all, muttering a tirade of incoherent words. Her frame is enveloped in a patterned hooded robe, showcasing the colours of the Orombuc: yellow, orange, red, and brown. The hood casts her unseen face in darkness.

Oam remains outside, but he is the only one that knows our tongue. Our translator. I'm uncertain of the worth of a blessing if we cannot understand it. Curious, I sneak a glimpse of the Augur standing at the one end of the line, hovering above a kneeled Vince.

She outstretches a tattooed hand, and it hovers above the crown of his head.

"The... spirit of conqueror," she says in broken Arkian with a rustic and rough accent.

Never mind then.

She glides to Dario, besides Vince, and says, "Spirit of warrior."

She moves along the line and professes her word over each of them.

She stops in front of Rimnick and says, "Spirit of beast."

My eyebrows quirk.

Next is Markiveus, and she says, "Spirit of snake."

I cage in a laugh.

Solaris follows, and she conspicuously pauses before she says, "Spirit of fowl."

Promptly, I feel her presence before me. A herbal scent emanates from her like the winds in the trees. She extends her hand, and something intangible yet potent flows from her to me in palpable waves, like the coursing of currents.

"The spirit of overcomer."

After she prays loudly and passionately in her tongue, gesticulating wildly, the baggy sleeves of her robe swaying like fluttering wings. Only after are we released. In a single file, we make our way out of the hut. I emerge outside, wincing at the sharp spears of light stabbing my eyes. My vision adjusts and the swell of brilliant light recedes, and I'm able to bear witness to the sight before me. The expansive main pathway is flanked by all the Oromian people, holding chaplets of rich-coloured flowers.

Solaris and I trade animated looks as we all slowly walk down. And it ignites a fervour of farewell cheers and applause from all those surrounding us. Soldiers stand in a lengthy line in front of the crowds. As we saunter down, we are showered by sprays of petals, appearing as if they are falling from the heavens. I notice the same gaggle of children that faithfully oversaw Dario and I's archery lessons. And in a unified display, they show us a meaningful gesture with their fingers. Then they all unleash an explosion of flowers that burst forth on the path we embark on.

A few Oromian women are allowed to seep through with garlands of flowers in their hands. The Herems and I take a minor bypass to them, bending our necks one after the other to accept the large necklaces, made entirely out of sweet-smelling blooms.

Afore the maw of the compound, the hunters stand together. Their cheers surge once they see Vince. And he dazzles them with his cosmic smile, making his approach to them. They swallow him into an all-engrossing hug, a few of them patting the back of his head, hands clapping his shoulders.

We all exit, viewing our carousine that stands ready. One of the coachmen stands beside the open door with the portable steps posted. With the addition of Duce Merian's carriage at the rear, which he already occupies. The guards are already mounted on their horses in the same regiment, two rows of nine ahead of the carousine and the other nine behind Merian's carriage.

Oam stands several metres before the entire convoy. "Herems and a Hera, it was an honour to host you," he says and places a hand on his heart, bowing his head to us all.

Vince strides forward. "The honour is all ours," he says and motions to all of us. "The true blessing was to merge our lives with the lives of the Oromian people. The true treasure of Urium."

Such a charmer.

I look away. Primus Kelan seizes my gaze. He is settled at the front of the regiment. The strength of a noonday sun pours itself down on him. His burgundy armour gleams under its beams, and pure sunlight glimmers in those stygian eyes. His raven black hair is tied up in a bun with a few insolent wisps that caress his sculpted face.

A hand cuts in front of my face, fluttering incessantly.

I draw back, blinking many times before I flash back to reality.

"Where did you go?" Solaris asks and tries to follow my line of sight. 

Alarmed, I grip his taut bicep and drag him onwards. "Nothing, I was—"

"Thinking?" he interjects and snorts. Adopting a serious tone, he says, "I did not think that I would... but a part of me is going to miss this place."

"You? The nobleman is going to miss eating slugs, having to hunt for food, and sleeping on solid rock?"

A smile threads through his pink lips. "I said a part of me, however minuscule. But truly, their culture is enriching, their livelihood and their sense of unity. The meals shared before a burning fire, entertained every night by folklore. It's like living with a really big native family." His jaw, once clean-shaven, has evolved into a gritty, sand-rough stubble, over the time spent here.

I nod in accord. "Could not have said it better myself."

We reach the entrance of the carousine, and I climb in first, making my way to our spot at the back bench. I collapse on the cushioned seat, releasing a sigh of relief.

Comfort.

Shortly, Solaris takes his place beside me, and unexpectedly, Vince settles himself on my other flank. I look back at him, scanning him up and down questioningly. His once fine moustache has overgrown into a full beard, but not heavy. The prickly hair is still light around his mouth. That dark frosted brown of his once groomed hair is now ruffled, and its length easily passes the tips of his ears.

Despite all that, he's still a sight to behold.

"And to what do I owe this rare delight?"

He chuckles and makes himself comfortable. His torso is slanted against the corner, twisted enough to face me with his one arm extended, resting his elbow on the long sill of the velvety window frame.

"It's a long journey. Thought we could keep each other... amused," he says huskily.

I lean back against the headboard, allowing my head to droop back. With my gaze set forward, I say, "Well, you'll be sorely disappointed. I'm not very amusing."

"On the contrary, I think you possess many qualities that both amuse... and skills that astound."

My eyes narrow into slits and my head rolls to the side to fix him with a flinty stare. He wags his brows at me pointedly. Once the carousine brims with all the candidates, so does the odour that clings to us all. The blend of our grimy clothes mixed with the eye-watering smell of unwashed bodies trapped in the carousine with us, free to wander the restricted area.

Presently, the welcomed sound of clopping hooves echoes, faintly muffled by the mushy ground of the quagmire-like surface. The carousine follows as it draws forward until it rolls with the steady canter of the horses. 

***

During the ride, the fresh air from the window holes washes the inside, cleansing the tenacious odour. And this time, the journey is far less quiet. A few conversations buzz among the other Herems. Whereas my attention is shared between Solaris and Vince until Solaris nods off. And it's only Vince and I.

Now I see why many crave his company, his dashing personality coupled with that sparkling smile. He simply radiates energy and brio that makes his natural charm magnetic. He gives me a glimpse into a life I gladly did not live. He regales me tales of soirees and royal balls. I didn't realise the lives of nobles could be so scandalous. He tells be about the Count de Marchellian's party. A celebration held to extol his eternal love for his wife. Love meant to stretch beyond the limits of the sky. However, his pregnant mistress crashed the party with two of his other mistresses. All with children. It seems his love was a bit too far-reaching. Depravity and debauchery amongst nobles doesn't surprise me because what measure of value can they add to their already purposeless days?

Hours drift by, but Vince and I are enwrapped with one another, entrenched in exhilarating conversation. One that I didn't think I would experience with anyone other than Solaris. A rapt grin engraved on my face as I listen to his tales. He tries to delve deeper into my life, but with every question I find a juncture to turn to the point of focus on him. Easy enough, since he's the type that likes the sound of his own voice. I'm beginning to think I do too as we speak from when the sun is enthroned in the sky until its fall. And now the moon rises to claim its stead. Everything under the midnight blue sky is awash with the darkness of night. The gifted garlands are cast aside, and some carelessly thrown on the floorboards. All the other Herems, even Solaris, are fast asleep. A few of the others rumble fatigued snores.

All except Vince and I, snickering like children that refuse to sleep.

"What about princess Emelia? I've heard tales of her beauty."

Vince snorts a stifled laugh, throwing his head back with exaggerated emphasis. "I have faced bloodhounds with teeth the size of butcher knives that are more approachable than her."

I free another giggle. "So, she's immune to the charms of the bewitching Vince Esputo?"

He looks back at me, encompassed by shadows. But even in the dark, his glittering smile prospers. "You believe me to be bewitching?"

Heat stings my cheeks. "No, I think, you think that you are bewitching and charming. You must be since you have sons of kings for companions."

He chuckles deeply and shrugs his shoulders. "Perhaps I'm just that likeable. I must be if I'm winning the fondness of the lone Hera."

My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets. "First off, don't be so cocksure. I tolerate you."

"Oh, yes, of course," he says, nodding his head in mock agreement.

"Do you nobles truly call me that?"

"Well, that's one of the nicer terms, the others are less... polite," he says, shimming up from his slouched position to sit upright. " Allow me to be forthright: no one shall find fault with the man, let alone a Domus, despite the circumstances of your birth. My father informed me that he declared your existence to the Decuria at a time when all believed Regnum Valwa would remain unrepresented due to his lack of an heir. Consequently, your name found its way in unworthy mouths, revealing your origins to the nobility, as you were evidently not of noble birth."

My smile wanes before it flickers out like a dying flame.

A frown crumples the skin between my brows. "My only regret is the death of the High King's son."

Vince gives me this half-offended, half-amused look. "You revile us so?"

"What is there to admire? Your blatant disregard for the common folk? Wasteful feasts that could feed an entire village are entertainment for a few. Amenities and opportunities only reserved for the nobility to ensure the lowborn remain low and the high rise even higher."

Vince's expression goes grave. "You make us sound like monsters."

"No, monsters have granted me more mercy," I say, allowing sentiments to spill. "I've been spat at by noblemen and mocked by noblewoman. True nobility is a rare virtue, even among those who bear the title."

A pensive pause.

"Where have you encountered members of the landed gentry?"

"Occupational hazard of working for my employer. I've come across your lot more than I'd like."

"We are not all so tainted," Vince says with a sense of gravity to his words. "In Emikrol, we take care of our own. For us, titles serve as a framework of order and structure, yet we do not deny any citizen the opportunity to ascend in rank. In Emirkrol, our esteem is not derived from what's between one's legs or inherited possessions. Rather, our respect and honor stem from one's deeds and the merits rightfully earned."

I inhale a deep breath, resting the side of my head against the headboard, looking at him directly. "I suppose one tainted well doesn't render the entire river undrinkable."

Vince crosses his arms and stares back at me piercingly. A shimmer of moonlight catches in his eyes, banishing the gloom from his face for a moment. Then it returns to consume more than half of his face. An interval of strange silence ensues, one that I feel only envelopes us. I wait patiently for his response, but he just stares at me like I'm a cipher that needs to be decrypted.

"Are you saying that you deem me worth consuming?"

My jaw loosens.

"Which part of me exactly?"

"Your liver," I say with bluntly. "My favourite organ to eat after I devoured a man's flesh."

"So long as you take my heart."

Shock tugs my brow upwards. "It's like your tongue has a mind of its own."

"It is not afraid to declare its desires," he says with a roguish smirk. "Something my tongue and I have in common."

"Perhaps I should acquaint mine with yours?"

His brows leap. I think this is the first time I've ever seen the wordsmith, wordless.

His jaw clamps, twitches, then releases. "Careful, it is unwise to tease me so."

"I think you're all bark and no bite."

"With a bite like mine, no bark is needed." He leans his head back, exposing his veiny neck. His eyes crawl down, slowly. And he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Want to put my theory to test?"

"Argh." A madden groan rolls out from a broad-shouldered silhouette. 

I turn my head to inspect the interior made hazy by the shroud of black.

"Do shut up, Vinny," a hoarse voice says, speech impaired by sleep. Brennon. "Cease your attempts to woo the poor girl. It is not like you are going to get any reward this night. Not with us all in the carousine. Unless you feel like sharing?"

I lurch but Solaris already stuck out his arm in front of me like a restraint, timely, even though his face is turned the other way.

I never knew my anger was so predictable.