Episode 4

Normally the soaring spires shaped to cut the wind like glaives rising out the river valley more graceful than the stoic mountains that stood vigil, were the favorite part of Ezma Rose's yearly journey with the trade caravans. This time, with the caravan destroyed she had little room in her mind for the scenery, the desperate face of a mother as she pressed the crying infant to Ezma's arms. She looks at the sleeping child then her gaze sweeps the rest of the military column that had rescued her from the goblins.

The young man who had extracted her from the goblin cage walked next to a mounted woman clad in the usually impractically tight garments of a disgraced noble woman in the kingdom of the saint, her blonde hair, well what Ezma could see of it when the woman had taken her habit off at one of the water breaks, ornately braided in a pattern Ezma had never seen before, she made a note to see if the lady would teach her should a chance arise. Otherwise the lady in question was rather…board shaped, not much hip or breast, there were ways to make herself more attractive but again the garb the followers of the Saint insisted on did no favors.

Her companion stood a head taller than about three others in the troop, black hair plastered with sweat peaking out in places under his helmet, his chest and shoulders wide enough that Ezma did not think she could wrap her arms all the way around him. In the brief moments they had paused on the march it was obvious that he was new to the armor unlike all the others who wore it like a second skin. In any other nation an obviously inexperienced warrior wearing unique rank insignia in an elite unit like this would indicate the child of a noble who had bought a rank. Such a thing while uncommon in the Holy Kingdom would not have been so obvious due to their insistence on starting military training younger and younger each year. Maybe a recent convert with a large fortune or influence for spreading the faith?

The standing of the man or the soldiers with which he marched did not really matter to her at the end, she was without a plan or contacts to get home, and she doubted they would be willing to part with any resources to get her to a town. Nor, with tensions rising between the Holy Kingdom and its neighbors, was it likely they would let her a northern tribes woman wander around a military institution. Complicating things the most was that the lyre who had been her constant companion since reaching adulthood now lay in scattered pieces on the trail among blood and mud, she though sadly as the line of soldiers entered the shadow swept valley.

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Shiro sat on the steps to the central keep on the edge of the fortress courtyard, the provided room was stuffy and the lavish decorations, while less expensive than those in the palace, created an effect akin to lipstick on a pig. So he had taken a walk and now half reclined on the stairs looking at the stars. Lost in thought he could not tell when the music started but once he realized what he was hearing he followed it to one of the barracks where the woman they had rescued from the goblins stood weaving her song. It seemed to be some great and bittersweet lay of a first and only true love, lost to time and great distances, solace found in strange lands but yearning in the quiet moments for a return to their first.

She concluded her song and, politely sobered from the music the gathered soldiers passed a hat, though few put anything in, and then the woman sought to make her exit. Shiro had not come all the way in and watched a moment before following the figure as she walked up some steps to lean on the castle wall. He followed and the coughed politely, when she acknowledged his presence he approached some more and spoke "Fancy some company?" she looked him up and down, gauging intent the shrugs "Sure, but any attempts to get more than conversation and I reserve the right to send your rich ass over this wall."

Shiro grimaced "I can accept those terms, though the news that my ass is rich is new to me." she raises am eyebrow "So what? You just magically got a unique armor insignia when you showed up one day?" He chuckles "When you put it that way it is a pretty tall tale. I am Nakahara Shiro." She looks interested at his name "I did not hear it before but your name makes your accent obvious" she says then launches into a lilting poem mostly in a language he is unfamiliar with, except for the muddled Japanese words about the 'white of Fuji's peak.' Startled Shiro looks at her, the question evident on his face. "That is one of the earliest poems the Kingdom of the Saint possesses. The orthodoxy say it was penned by the saint himself after the song I sung earlier but before he forsook the wordy concerns. Scholars outside the Kingdom have evidence that it was penned several centuries before the saint was born by the leader of a tribe that settled in this area and eventually grew to be the kingdom as we know it now" "A very impressive knowledge" Shiro commends, Ezma curtsies "Ezma Rosewood, teller of tales and collector of old and useless songs." On a hunch Shiro asks "You might know more things about the demonesses than anyone else I have met so far."

Ezma looks at Shiro very closely, but before she can answer or the silence go suspiciously long a thunk from the stone of the rampart is followed by the alarm horns of the fortress and the elven war drums. Shiro goes to shield Ezma as she tucks and rolls towards the steps "go, do your part" she yells, as she jumps off the landing to avoid the soldiers hurrying up the stairs her yelled command turns to a rising refrain of birds in flight slowing her fall as she takes off towards the servant area where she had left the infant in the care of a well bribed washer woman. As she crosses the courtyard Ezma wonders about the question Mr. Shiro had posed. He seemed honest enough but she had dodged questions like that from inquisitors for to long to be able to freely trust a complete stranger, especially one of an ambiguous military standing.

As she dodges a stray arrow she remembers that there are more pressing concerns and to worry about dodging heretic hunters later…..if she survives.