ch 17; Foreboding (2)

He was just a pale white boy from the city of Urk. 

 

"I goes by the name of Reita." is what the boy consistently said when told to introduce himself. 

 

"What, a girl's name?" 

 

"My mother's wished for a daughter." and the exchange of dialogue turned similar everytime. 

 

That his dialogue partner looks a bit surprised and sometimes sneered knowing the common prejudice on his feminine-sounded name. That Reita always answered with the same exact reason; his mother's lifelong wish. 

 

It was effective, prompting them to throw the next query, or change the topic as quickly as the typhoon wind. Either way, not even one word about his name clawed into the conversation ever again, as if by an unseen agreement. 

 

Yet as deep as the parti pris sticked to his name, Reita has been naturally blending with anyone with utmost naturalness precisely because of his name. It was a great ice-breaker, no? Ingenuously dropping a hint of his harsh past with mere name, in the middle of a conversation he did not start, while also appearing unaffected with such slip-of-tongue; for most, he would be seen as presentable. 

 

Kind, big hearted, and if they found his talking and mannerism likeable? Instant goodwill. 

 

That's how he's been blending casually like a chameleon. 

 

And it was this way of life which ultimately led him to find his master. 

 

The pale white boy did not want to keep living a bottom-barrel life in this city. Not to say that Urk is an awful city or whatnot, but the boy has an ambition. It blooms continuously ever since he sighted a knight in action from a distance. 

 

But Urk is a small city. 

 

Nothing goes on in this peaceful city governed by a Count, good and bad. The monotony grating on his inherent adventurous nerve. Thus, the boy seek tutelage under an old man, formerly a squire until his knee capped. He was not even a knight. 

 

Yet for the pale white boy, it was enough. 

 

Well… long story short, the boy grew and became a man. 

 

A dutiful man who eventually reached his teacher's dream in his stead. To formally be knighted. At the prime age of 27, at that. 

 

The former scribe whose hair already turns white and suffered from severe alzheimer, miraculously remembers Reita's accomplishment than his own. That shows how much he pride raising that boy who knocks unannounced to his door one day. 

 

Counting all the cases in the vast continent, he was one in a dime dozen. But for the small city of Urk? A comet of a genius-born knight. And with the well-timed war climate loomed all over the Empire? His value began to skyrocket, far more than what he would receive normally. 

 

Now bearing the title 'Knight', the pale white man naturally thought he would be assigned to the front line. As the Empire is currently at war with the cocky Eastern Coalition. And Reita was ready. To reap honor, to enact revenge for the Empire, to bring glory. 

 

Yet his next appointment shatters that illusion from his dream. 

 

"S-Southern… sir?"

 

"Yes. A long-time escort mission."

 

Detail was unclear, will be provided by the requester, his superior said, but the man he assigned to guard is an ally. One which, as his superior, the legendary Ludwig who was until recently under the umbrella of another more prestigious man with previous title of Supreme Commander, emphasize greatly, that the man was key to end the prolonged war between them and those despicable Easterners. 

 

How? Who knows. At least, not Reita.  

 

He's a knight, not a politician, not an officer. Of course the flow of information grasped by each party would be different. Not that he mind. 

 

Bewildered as he was, Reita understood one thing; the importance of the man he's about to escort. And although his desire to avenge his homeland in the ever-chaotic theater of East was blocked with this assignment, Reita skillfully mask such discontent and even gaslit himself that his current mission is no less honorable. 

 

For the great cause, he thought to himself. 

 

And perhaps it was his own trait, which after penetrating the importance, start daydreaming about his client's (as instructed in the manual vocally given by sir Ludwig) physiognomy. What's the man looks like, what graceful activity he loved in, or maybe his favorite books. Tersely, the man's every conduct. 

 

But Reita fault was in the fact that he sufficiently attribute the unknown man personality and whatnot entirely with his own standard. And another shortsight, was that he won't be assigned as a formal guardian, but a mercenary. His post won't be nowhere near, enough for Reita to glaze his client's entire day. 

 

An important man that even sir Ludwig admires cannot be less honorable even in conduct. No, it was precisely because he's so brilliant, that it would shone through his daily life— 

 

—was his logic. 

 

Verily, there's nothing more foreseeable than a man which had too much expectation, finally met the truth. 

 

Pot bellied, haggard, saggy dark eyes under, short breath merely by standing too long—and when's the last time he bath properly? Had Philip heard discourteous thought, not even he could provide a satisfactory answer. 

 

In short, a mess of a person. 

 

In long, theoretical dissonance between his eyes and reality as a kind of shock therapy, being as how the version in his mind drastically upturned 180 degree, which Reita believe to be true yet pinching his own hand-skin result in pain, meaning this mythologically accurate greed vessel in front of him is truly the client, with a doubt. 

 

How can a king be this obnoxious…? Is this a unique quirk of this region, by chance? A king without apparent dignity? How could such leader… exist? 

 

If Philip could read mind at this moment, he would chuckled by his naivety, and reply; Well, son, ever heard of a puppet king?

"Good to see you. The timing is impeccable—you arrived on time." At least his eyes held radiance befits of leader of a country, Reita thought, fleeting. 

 

"The pleasure is mine." again, he may held prejudice but he's not so unprofessional to forget what he's coming for. As the leader of this small team of 'mercenary', Reita humbly bowed his head in front of his client. Philip's talk about timing awoken his curiosity but he held back. Time will tell. 

 

They promptly walk into the carriage, only Reita and Philip. As far as they knew, in this kingdom, only the mysterious mercenaries coming to aid and Philip, the employer, who aware of true dealings behind the back. That Reita is an imperial knight. That the mercenaries tagging alongside him are skilled squires. 

 

Further telling, only Philip knew the true mission that even Reita, the highest ranking agent sent, does not know. 

 

"What should I call you, ser knight?" 

 

"Reita, Your Majesty." 

 

On this answer, Reita fully envision Philip picking the bias of his feminine-sounded name. In where he would then throw the next line of it's my mother wish as he always has. 

 

Unexpectedly, "Ah, I see. Must've had a rough childhood. Having a mother with daughter obsession isn't the best experience, as I recall. And the worst part is you can't really blame her." 

 

Instead of brought up the common preconception tied to his name, Philip tore through the trauma underneath. Very straightly. Thrown off balance, Reita was stunned for a second before sluttering an answer, as not to be seen as rude. 

 

"Well, yes… quite a bit."

 

And as they say, first impression built the base. 

 

As someone who practice exactly that, Reita initial impudence prejudgement has been entirely on this first impression. But, now, he tear it down and built a new judgement, more robust and deep staked than before. 

 

This man… is the real deal. 

 

The new sprout of loyalty faintly grown. 

 

"Well now, enough chit chat. Let's talk down to business, shall we?" the moment the word 'business' came out, Philip's mannerism changed into a heavy one. "Firstly, I had to know how much authority you've been given. The lines, do and don'ts, all of it. I need to understand everything before seriously considering you as positive variable."

 

Variable, he said. But underneath, Reita smelled the true scent. 

 

Pawn. 

 

More crudely, tools. 

 

He's basically saying if Reita couldn't have much freedom of movement aside from initial request which is an escort, then he would mold whatever his plan around this fact. 

 

"Secretly, Your Majesty, I'm an escort. But we all came here as a 'mercenary'." do what you will with that information, he essentially said. 

 

And it was Ludwig who arranged this. 

 

From the first time, he couldn't imagine that pot bellied fox would enquire knight merely for security measure. Thus he wrapped the 16 agents, 15 squire and one knight as mercenaries thanks to their flexible nature. 

 

A calculated move, if you will. 

 

"Must be Ludwig." he mutters. "Well. That makes things easier."

 

It was then that Philip finally handed him a stack of paper he's been eyeing the entire time they boarded this carriage. 

 

And inside, 

 

"A map?"

 

"Yes." the eyes he glimpsed for a moment was sharp. "Ambush." 

 

There's no more explanation. No need to. Reita is now a mercenary, not a pale white man turned knight from the city of Urk. Only one response suitable for his current identity. 

 

"Understood."