"My two natures had memory in common."
- 21st of Vhalar, 716 Arc
"You want me to find… a cat?” András stepped forward, a look of incredulous shock on his face. “I should be helping repair Lowtown, or… or…” he couldn’t find the words. Why was he given cat duty? The paper in his hand requested assisted in finding some kind of magical creature. A cat that saved lives, or something. Was this really what the tax dollars were being used for?
”You should,” the man behind the desk admitted, his voice cold and lacking any room for disagreement, “But continually you decide to be a thorn in my side, Venora,” he looked up from his papers, “You get into fights with the other knights, you shirk your duties, you’re constantly showing up late,” he pinched the bridge of his crooked nose, and ran a hand down his dark stubble, “I can’t have you starting any trouble today. Find the cat, make the family happy, and go home, understand?”
Andras understood, but he didn’t like it. Then again… he couldn’t quite argue either. He was a pretty bad knight, all things considered, but… cat duty? He heaved a sigh, pouting and crossed his arms over his leather armor, “May I be dismissed?” His tone was childish, bitter, but his superior waved him away. There was much to be done, the sooner Andráska was out of his hair, the better.
As he moved out of the tent, he reread the ad:
If by some immortal given miracle, the cat was still alive, and didn’t get killed in the fighting or die from heat exhaustion or starvation or whatever… the infirmary could be a good place to start. The paper said it would be where people were injured. There had just been a war. If there were sick and dying people, it was obvious where they would be trying to recover. With a new clue in mind, Andras borrowed a horse from the Iron Hand stables (much to the dismay of the man in charge of them) and climbed atop of it. With a click of his tongue and a slight kick of his heels, the animal moved forward and gave a soft whinny.
It had been a long time since Andras rode a horse, perhaps longer than he’d care to admit. He faked his confidence, the animal docile and trained enough to take to his commands. He experimented with the steering a bit, tugging lightly on the left reign and watching the animal creep in that direction. He did it again for the right side, and still the horse obeyed. “Good boy,” Andras patted the creature’s neck and took the reins again. Now that he knew how to steer…
Andráska turned the stallion towards the direction of the infirmary, and dug his heels into its sides, bracing himself for the sudden charging of the animal. A wide grin split the noble’s mouth and he laughed as the pleasant winds rushed against his face and tussled his hair. People on the street jumped out of his way and he sped past other guards and pretty women in white skirts. He waved, winking and blowing a kiss to the ladies, who laughed. It was hard not to feel like a gallant figure riding horseback and dressed in knight’s armor. Truly, he felt, well… noble.
Smiling like a child, his mood began to falter the closer to their destination they came. He allowed the animal to slow, pulling on the reigns a bit and lowering himself from his standing position. The horse was panting, but not exhausted and when the building was in sight, he came to a stop, “Woah, boy.” Before him was a tan cobblestone building with pointed spiral towers, and a curved bridge leading to the front door. Even from outside he could hear the wails of the injured, the cries of pain and surgery.
Andras wanted to turn around, not wanting to face what injured. War was nasty business. Repairing buildings and rationing supplies, he could do. Looking into the eyes of the dying? A shudder danced under his skin and the young lord climbed from the horse and began leading it closer. In the yard was a woman dressed in a sterile white dress, and she had a somber, sad expression. Between her fingers, she sucked a cigarette with a desperate intensity, as if the tobacco held the secret to her sanity.
”You should,” the man behind the desk admitted, his voice cold and lacking any room for disagreement, “But continually you decide to be a thorn in my side, Venora,” he looked up from his papers, “You get into fights with the other knights, you shirk your duties, you’re constantly showing up late,” he pinched the bridge of his crooked nose, and ran a hand down his dark stubble, “I can’t have you starting any trouble today. Find the cat, make the family happy, and go home, understand?”
Andras understood, but he didn’t like it. Then again… he couldn’t quite argue either. He was a pretty bad knight, all things considered, but… cat duty? He heaved a sigh, pouting and crossed his arms over his leather armor, “May I be dismissed?” His tone was childish, bitter, but his superior waved him away. There was much to be done, the sooner Andráska was out of his hair, the better.
As he moved out of the tent, he reread the ad:
- "I’ve lost my precious Pebbles in the fighting. She’ll be scared somewhere. I know she’s alive because I’d know if she was dead and you’ll have to take my word for it. She’ll be somewhere near where people are hurt because she’s a magic healing cat. She’s kept me alive all these arcs, please return. She’s a ginger tabby with a missing left ear. Thank you."
If by some immortal given miracle, the cat was still alive, and didn’t get killed in the fighting or die from heat exhaustion or starvation or whatever… the infirmary could be a good place to start. The paper said it would be where people were injured. There had just been a war. If there were sick and dying people, it was obvious where they would be trying to recover. With a new clue in mind, Andras borrowed a horse from the Iron Hand stables (much to the dismay of the man in charge of them) and climbed atop of it. With a click of his tongue and a slight kick of his heels, the animal moved forward and gave a soft whinny.
It had been a long time since Andras rode a horse, perhaps longer than he’d care to admit. He faked his confidence, the animal docile and trained enough to take to his commands. He experimented with the steering a bit, tugging lightly on the left reign and watching the animal creep in that direction. He did it again for the right side, and still the horse obeyed. “Good boy,” Andras patted the creature’s neck and took the reins again. Now that he knew how to steer…
Andráska turned the stallion towards the direction of the infirmary, and dug his heels into its sides, bracing himself for the sudden charging of the animal. A wide grin split the noble’s mouth and he laughed as the pleasant winds rushed against his face and tussled his hair. People on the street jumped out of his way and he sped past other guards and pretty women in white skirts. He waved, winking and blowing a kiss to the ladies, who laughed. It was hard not to feel like a gallant figure riding horseback and dressed in knight’s armor. Truly, he felt, well… noble.
Smiling like a child, his mood began to falter the closer to their destination they came. He allowed the animal to slow, pulling on the reigns a bit and lowering himself from his standing position. The horse was panting, but not exhausted and when the building was in sight, he came to a stop, “Woah, boy.” Before him was a tan cobblestone building with pointed spiral towers, and a curved bridge leading to the front door. Even from outside he could hear the wails of the injured, the cries of pain and surgery.
Andras wanted to turn around, not wanting to face what injured. War was nasty business. Repairing buildings and rationing supplies, he could do. Looking into the eyes of the dying? A shudder danced under his skin and the young lord climbed from the horse and began leading it closer. In the yard was a woman dressed in a sterile white dress, and she had a somber, sad expression. Between her fingers, she sucked a cigarette with a desperate intensity, as if the tobacco held the secret to her sanity.
