Vessel Of The Sorcerer Queen

[Celerius]

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Chapter 1: Rain And Gold

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It all began with her death.



Water came down through the night in a light drizzle, slowly kneading the streets outside into mud. Aksel stood in the orphanage's kitchen, right against the window, knowing everyone else would be too busy with dinner to pay any attention to his absence.



Outside, lights flickered around the village by the dozen. The sounds of music, laughter, and clinking metal broke the usual evening silence.

Mirren was a border village. Visitors were rare, and for the most part, openly unwelcome. So when a hundred soldiers had marched in that morning, led by a sorcerer of the Order of the Sword, the panic had been immediate and short-lived.



They'd come from the capital, they said. Headed for the outpost two days west, simply as a precaution. And with Regenia on the other side of that border, a country so backward its name made the villagers spit, nobody had questioned it for long.



Now their tents and supplies lined the outskirts, as if Mirren had suddenly grown a massive limb that twitched and spasmed with the contagious energy of human activity. It was a night of abundance and celebration, for a decade of peace well lived, and the next one they had yet to live.



And Aksel stood, in silence, behind the window, and worried.



"Hey."



Selenne had entered the kitchen with the casual grace of a black cat. Her familiar voice almost made him jump.



"Thinking about going out?" She sat down on a barrel, right by his side. "I told the Mother Superiora you've been on the shitter all day, and that I was going to check whether you were still alive… that should keep them off your ass for a while."



Aksel's eyes remained on the window.



"Any good news?" He finally asked. "It's only been two weeks; they might still summon us."



Selenne gave him a defeated smile. "If our invitation was supposed to arrive at all, this marching band would have been the perfect way to deliver it."



Aksel took a deep breath. "You turn sixteen next month. They've been trying to get rid of us for years and—"



Selenne hugged him, pressing her head into his back. "Of me. They've been trying to get rid of me for years. But you weren't this worried last night…" She whispered. "Talk to me, Aksel."



He leaned back into her, fingers still white against the window's frame.



"When was the last time we saw so many soldiers march into the front?"



"Never?"



"Exactly. You don't mobilize this many people unless you are expecting something, and you don't give them enough food and wine and coin to share with half the village unless you need those men to stay wherever you send them until they learn to call it home."



Selenne grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her, and lowered her voice. "What are you saying? An invasion?" She looked deeper into his eyes. "…war? Aksel, there has not been a single war since before most people in the village were born, and you're telling me everything is going to shit now, the exact same month we are supposed to leave for the capital?"



Aksel stared back at Selenne, at the only person who had been there as long as he could remember.



And he saw it.



He saw the fragile, not-quite-there smile. The clinging, dying hope she tried to pass as optimism, and below it all, he saw the slight cold on her shoulders pressing down on any spark of that characteristic fire that usually defined her.



She was scared. He'd never seen her so scared.



"No, of course not," he said, turning around to hug her properly. "I'm just nervous, that's all. Never thought the masters of magic would have trouble delivering an admission letter on time… but I guess that's what we get for living in a shithole."



Selenne laughed. "It's just two weeks. Who cares? We're going to be sorcerers. That's already more than most people can say. We shouldn't be crying rivers because our invitation got a little tardy. Half the bathroom is flooded already."



Aksel gave her a kiss on the forehead and did his best to smile, then pushed himself away and grabbed his already dirty cloak from the table.



"Still going out?" Selenne asked, wide-eyed.



"I won't do anything stupid. I promise."



"Fine…" She whined, turning around the same way she came. "Just… be back before midnight, okay? And… don't take any risks. I don't need money, I need you here, with me."



Aksel just nodded, putting on that cocky expression he wore when he wanted her not to worry.



It never worked.

❖

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Walking down the street was about as pleasant as shoveling shit with your feet.



Aksel had never seen so much water. The rain had settled in about ten days before, and he had seen it grow sharp and violent and then quiet and pleasant, but not for a moment had it stopped.



Standing there, still in front of the orphanage's street, he took off his hood and looked at the sky for a moment. There was no moon or stars, only clouds that momentarily flashed with soft bursts of white or purple light.



He had always liked the rain.



When he breathed there, with the water running down his face, it felt as if the moment expanded along with his chest. It centered him, gave him focus, each drop washing away any semblance of doubt or worry.



He put the hood back on and kept walking down the street, his boots sinking with each step.



Aksel had never seen a hundred men pass through Mirren in a single night, but he had seen far more pass by through the course of his life, enough to recognize the nature of man.



The laughter carried far in the rain. Every door he passed was open, every hearth shared. A generosity that, any other week, these same people would have called stupidity. But nobody could keep their guard on forever, and deep down, every human soul wanted to believe in tales of knights in shining armor.



The next time the boy stopped, he was in front of a vertical ladder hidden between two of the village's larger houses. He climbed, the wood groaned, he cursed, same thing every time.



On top of the ladder, above one of the houses, there was a little camp. Four planks of wood holding a heavy rug high enough for you to sit under it, the perfect middle point between having a big tent and being bare naked.



And that night, as every night, sitting there among empty cans and sacks full of whatever caught his attention that week, was a man. A tanned, sickly thin old man, someone who had lost most of his rotten teeth before Aksel was born.



"Uncle Itch," Aksel called, approaching the vagabond. "May I?"



The veteran turned around, panicked, pretending not to have heard the boy at all.



"Aksel! Winds! Give an old man a warning, you're going to kill me one of these days!"



"If you don't put on a shirt, this damn rain might beat me to it."



Aksel crouched near the edge of the house, his eyes following the older man's stare down the block and right into the center of the party. Midnight was still far away, and wine had a way of keeping the bodies warm, even in the rain, so the dance hadn't stopped at all. The same soldiers who had come to seek some refuge from the open sky now invited girls to join them, as if defying the climate to stop this simple night.



"They look happy."



"Because they are, some people are good at that." The old man, Itch, said. "You could join them."



They both laughed.



Itch grabbed a can of the few that were full. "Smoked pork?"



"…how?"



"Men either have fun or keep an eye on their stuff, but never both. And you know every rat in this village owes me a favor, so things have been… rollin' off the table tonight. In fact, you're the only one so far who has come empty-handed."



"What do you mean?" Aksel smiled. "I brought someone useful."



"Anyone can be useful…" Itch reached out with one of his long, thin arms, bony fingers closing atop Aksel's head. "If they just know where to look."



There it was.



A single man, sneaking deeper into the village through the back of a poorly lit garden, doing his best to hug the walls. Amateur. Heels too heavy, head turning too often, constantly looking over his shoulder as if waiting for a wolf to pounce, the kind of caution that draws the eye rather than avoiding it.



Aksel tracked him to the corner where the shadows pooled together, watched the man's shoulders drop as he convinced himself he was invisible in front of a closed window.



"I'll take care of—"



Before the boy could finish that phrase, the old man held onto his arm, pulling him back down firmly.



"No. Sit down. Watch. Learn."



The thief, a soldier most likely, who had decided to leave behind his armament when trying to blend in on a village where most people could identify their neighbor by smell alone, stood around for another minute before forcing the window open.



Aksel's blood boiled, but he did not let it show. Instead, he said nothing, and watched.



Annie came through the front door not a minute later. The girl was a card shark, and a good face in a pinch.



And that was not her house.



The kid who actually lived there, Tomas, appeared only a moment later, along with five other guys who had, of course, been close enough to hear Annie scream and immediately came to her aid.



"Been runnin' that scam all night, that bunch," the old man said through a proud grin. "Talkin' up the soldiers, getting them drunk and stupid, whispering about some family heirloom made of gold. They're smart kids, you could make a lot of money with a crew like that."



Aksel frowned. "You know I can't."



"Yes, I know, I know. You and that girl of yours…" Itch leaned back, sighing tiredly. "She's gonna be the death of ya."



"It's not her fault half the village hates her."



"Maybe," Itch shrugged. "Life doesn't really care one way or the other; it's not about looking for someone to blame. Eventually, you've just gotta learn to close your mouth and take care of… whatever the winds brought that day. Beggars can't be choosers."



Itch grabbed another can, extending his free hand to let the rain wash it for a moment before scraping the bottom clean with his bare fingers.



"Look," Aksel shook his head tiredly. "I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but what I need is-"



"Yes, yes. I know what you need. That little escape plan of yours failed, and now you're trapped in the same hole as the rest of us." The old man made a pause, mulling over his words. "I'm just sayin', kid, maybe you should get used to the idea of not having a miracle waiting around the corner to bail you out. I don't care what color blood you got or what you think you're owed, until any of that starts putting food on the table, you need to stop dreaming and start living like the rest of us, boy."



Turning around, Aksel walked his way back to the stairs.



"Fine, fine!" The old man yelled. "If you still want to risk it all on faith… I might have something for you."

 

[CrazyDarkstar23]

Interesting enough start, let's see where you take it.