>>5888124The tiger-haired boy appears to be at rest, though somewhat unsettled, he is largely unharmed. Where is his captain? Or at the very least, some experienced adult to help him through the wilderness. You yourself are a teenager, though old enough to be conscripted by your own king, but you wonder if this bright-eyed lad is even a teen.
It surprises you to see him with such a formidable weapon, as he appears he would have trouble with something even half that size.
He flinches when he realizes he's being watched, and upon your discovery, you give a friendly smile and awkward chuckle, waving with your natural arm. You signal your approach, making no threatening moves as you meet on the platform.
"S-salutations-!" the fresh-faced youth stammers behind a smile, his eyes groping for any form of identification on your person, then settles on "-adventurer!"
"Skald Myrddin, at your service," you put a hand to your chest, and politely give the slightest tilt and nod.
The boy, almost a full head shorter than you, makes a show of consideration for his next words; "Squire Ferris," he utters shyly.
It annoys you a little when people are so short and deliberate in speech, but you're also more than a little curious what his story is. The Empire of Steel Wing are notorious for warring and conquering, but it doesn't make any sense for them to be present in Amanita Heights. Surely their incursion would be uncontested, as there are only a handful of settlements of quite peaceful folk, but there's no point, at least, as far as the Empire is concerned; there's nothing here.
"Squire, you say?" you ply. "Are you far from your company?"
"Ah, that is," he flounders, before meeting your eyes, "I'm on a trial, t-to test my aptitude."
"By yourself?" you raise a brow, your smile shrinking.
"It's the 'temper fledgling' program," he swells with pride. "It's a means to teach the youth of the Empire to better serve the crown! You see, in light of a recent increase in vagrancy..." he stops himself, getting visibility nervous again. "N-not that there's anything wrong with being an itinerant wanderer..." he peters off awkwardly.
You let it roll off you, you've definitely had much worse said about you, and you crack a smirk at how flustered he's getting. "I get it, squire," you reassure him, "your Empire has its way of doing things. It's admirable to see one so young learning to fend for himself."
"Well, to be entirely candid," he frowns, "I'd have rather learned baking and roasting. When I turned thirteen, though, my da signed me up, and I didn't resist." He pauses, swallowing hard. "I want to make him proud, you know?"
A memory cuts through your heart, but you maintain composure. You imagine to him, it barely looked like your face twitched.
[[ Continues in next post... ]]
