[Smite Happens] 11 - Bouncy Horses

Captain Gesmund of the Silver Order Sentinel was an imposing man, standing a couple of inches shy of seven feet. He had a wiry mesh of a beard, as if he glued a dozen shower poufs to his face. Wouldn’t it be better to shave it a bit? It would be quite itchy and hot having that much facial hair sealed inside a full-face helmet.

He looked down at me with beady eyes that were too small for his head. “Chosen Bestowed,” he said in a rumbling voice, slightly bowing. “I bring terrible news.”

“No!” I exclaimed. “Are they dead? Father? Mother?” I had never been distraught. Ever. Then again, I hadn’t received news as bad as this.

The captain shook his head. “No one was left alive. The accursed assassins, heretical bastards, left no one alive. My men are bringing the bodies here.”

“No, no, no…” I took a few steps back, pretending to have wobbling legs. Clarisse caught me. I kept shaking my head while staring at the ground. I could easily squeeze out tears on command back on Earth, but I couldn’t do it now. Was it because this was a new body?

To buy time, I covered my face with my hands and heaved my shoulders as if I were crying. I also leaned away from Clarisse’s grasp and knelt on the ground. I bowed low and rubbed my eyes to redden them.

Clarisse knelt on one knee by my side and placed her hand on my back. She didn’t say anything. I imagined all the other Sentinels awkwardly looked at each other. Maybe they were checking their phones, or whatever people did in this fantasy world to get distracted. Check their sternials?

I need to cry. There was no way around this.

I had never ever gotten sad enough to make even a single tear fall. Not counting when I was a kid, of course. But there was a time I had cried for real because of a strong emotion—anger. Anger, frustration, and I drive for revenge. Granted, that was a few years back, and I was a dumb teenager being dumb, but I did genuinely cry.

With no other choice, I focused my mind on thinking of revenge against the assassins for trying to kill me. Me, the brand-new saint, the upcoming savior of the human race! Add in that they killed my otherworld parents. I should count that as more motivation. It was easy to rile me up if I thought that someone had offended me.

As rage filled my heart, I felt my eyes become watery. I rubbed them some more. Think of what I’d do to the assassins. I was going to make them pay, including those who sent them—no, they couldn’t use discount coupons for their debt.

“Let us rest under the shade,” Clarisse whispered, gently pulling me up.

I emerged from my hands to look at her. Hopefully, I looked like a mess. “I don’t want any of this…” Those were the words of Emery Pyrebraid. They sounded apt for the situation. I should get revenge for her, too.

“I understand. I truly do.” Clarisse carried me away from the Sentinels.

They took it as a cue to go away and deal with other stuff. I heard some of them talking about bringing up Melphor’s body. They also got another assassin for a total of three dead. Just for the record, I killed one of them, and the other one should’ve been my prisoner if not for his killjoy buddy.

It seemed that Wilhelm Fancy Pants had escaped. He must be shitting his fancy pants that his supposedly secret ambush plan went ultra, mega awry. I took satisfaction in knowing that he wouldn’t have a good night’s sleep for many nights to come. But this also meant that the attempts on my life were just beginning.

“Drink,” Clarisse commanded as she handed me her waterskin.

I drank the little water it had left. Clarisse had used most of it to clean my body. With the crying phase down, I moved on to staring blankly into space. A mixture of shock and emptiness. I inwardly groaned, realizing that I had to keep up my show of depression for some time.

“I know that anything I say won’t bring you comfort.” Clarisse took off her helmet. “But I’m going to try.”

I blinked, slightly surprised at her appearance. She was kind of pretty, in a tough tomboyish way. Her short, dusty blonde hair perfectly framed her oval face and high cheeks. Her tanned skin meant that she trained under the sun for long periods of time. She had a gentle air about her, like a nursery school teacher.

Having visited a couple of museums, I had low expectations about the appearances of people from centuries back, medieval times, or whatnot. The people in the paintings just didn’t look attractive to me, and those were supposed to be their ‘edited pics.’ Clarisse over here had the potential. If she let me do my makeover magic on her for just an hour, all the princes and kings of this world would ask for her hand in marriage. But I wasn’t so sure what I was capable of without an actual makeup kit.

Clarisse looked me in the eye as she grasped my hand. The metal of her gauntlet felt cool on my skin. “You have been chosen to walk on this path of a Chosen Bestowed. Many will tell you that it’s a great blessing. And, it is. But you won’t see it that way after losing your parents because of it. I understand… I know that. There is nothing wrong with it. We’re a few days from reaching the capital—take that time to mourn.

“But once we reach Lotharal, you will shed who you were before and step into your new life as one blessed by a god. You did not ask for this path, but the same is true for many others. Unlike other paths, you cannot simply walk away from this. But I know you can handle the burden. You are strong in mind and body. Become a Chosen Bestowed who your parents would be proud of.”

Damn, that’s an actually moving speech! It made my eyes water a bit, though that just might be from the dirt that had gotten on my eyes while I was bent over the ground. After all those words, I still couldn’t tell if Clarisse was being sincere.

She wiped my face and invited me to a prayer. I didn’t know the words, but it didn’t seem like I was supposed to. I sat there as she chanted, getting bored out of my mind.

As the Sentinels arranged the dead bodies they had recovered, Captain Gesmund called me to say my goodbyes to my parents. I had to cry again. While hugging my otherworld parents, I promised them that I’d carve those asshat assassins a new ass.

Captain Gesmund explained that we couldn’t bring them back to our village for a burial according to our customs because it would take too long. Half a day to the village. We’d spend the night there and bury them the following day. Half a day back to this point. In all, we’d give our enemies a couple of days to prepare for another attack. That didn’t factor in the difficulty of bringing the bodies without a wagon. They’d need to make a stretcher thingy to drag behind a horse.

“We’ll find a suitable resting place here for your father and mother,” Captain Gesmund somberly said. “We’ll dig deep so scavengers won’t disturb them, and we’ll mark the spot with stones so you can find them again… someday.”

From the way he spoke, I guessed that the ‘someday’ would take a very long time to come.

I had no choice but to agree. What could I manage on my own if I didn’t? Not like I wanted to return to our village. I had no memories of Emery Pyrebraid’s friends and family there. The villagers would know that something wasn’t right with me.

“Brother Melphor and his men will be laid to rest here as well,” added Captain Gesmund. “They, counting your parents, will be remembered as heroes in the records of the Silver Order.”

The burial site they chose was about ten yards from the road, a space in front of a really old tree with sparkling vines dangling from its branches. Several Sentinels took off their armor and proceeded to dig holes using shovels made by their companions who could mold stone. From the way they effortlessly scooped away piles of dirt, they might have high ranks in other Aspects.

I bet it was the Prowess Aspect that reflected strength. I’d need to work on that, too. I couldn’t rely on being hard to kill and waiting for my enemy to die of old age.  

“In my youth, two decades ago,” Captain Gesmund said while we watched his man prepare the graves, “I joined my uncle in a pilgrimage to the holy mountain of Nashtur. That was three years before the Gate to the Plane of the Old Gods shut forever. A long journey that was. Many died. We had to bury them along the way because we could not bring their bodies with us. They rest well, far from their homes they may be.”

Is this supposed to make me feel better? Even the other Emery wouldn’t be comforted by this depressing story.  

I mostly tuned out when the Silver Order performed their rites. Several minutes later, they had finished their prayers, and we were back with the horses. With no wagons around, I had to ride a horse, too.

“I… I have never ridden one,” I said. “My family didn’t have any horses.” I was somewhat apprehensive of falling off a horse. Not worried about getting injured. Rank Three Constitution, amiright? But I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of others.

“You’ll be fine,” Clarisse said from atop the horse, extending a hand down to me.

I grabbed her head while looking at the horse’s side, wondering where I could step. “How am I—woah!” Clarisse pulled me up with one hand and draped me across the horse. I awkwardly righted myself while holding onto her. I might’ve pulled on her armor a couple of times in panic. Killing people wasn’t too stressful compared to mounting a horse.

She politely chuckled at me. Even her laughter sounded fake, like she was sticking to a script. I had never been weirded out by someone before.

Oh, wait. I have… many times. I worked in customer service. Each day was like visiting a zoo with the number of colorful people coming in. More accurate to say that it was a zoo visiting me.

“This. Is. So. Bouncy.” I couldn’t talk straight as the horse galloped onward—Captain Gesmund wanted to return to Belldale as quickly as possible. Clarisse probably didn’t hear me over the thundering hooves. I hugged her midsection a bit too hard because there was nothing else for me to hang on to.

Clarisse was sitting on a saddle and had stirrups to secure her feet. I was sitting behind the saddle—it obviously wasn’t made for two—and had nothing for my flailing legs. Every bounce, my butt hovered above the horse’s back only to crash down again. Without my Boon, I’d certainly have a sore back and butt once this was over. When would this be over? Hours? Dammit!

I don’t like riding a horse! If I were to go to war someday, could I use a chariot to charge instead? Or just freaking walk!

Trying to distract myself from the bounciness, I thought of other things, like the realities of our journey to the kingdom’s capital. A list of potential problems formed in my head like a cash register printing items on a receipt.

No toilets. I had to do my business in the grass or something. No showers either. These people probably didn’t take a bath for days on end while traveling. And where was I going to sleep? On the fucking ground? I bet the food was going to be bland. There was no internet or TV to entertain me. I felt like a customer with too many complaints.

Just suck it up, I guess. I now understand why there were so many wars in Earth’s history. People lived such shitty lives that violence was their outlet. But I was here, and I had a job to do. People relied on their saint to save them!

(Author’s Notes: We’ll spend the next chapter with an exposition dump as Emery talks with the captain. Next will be the trip to the capital, which would be an opportunity to world-build. I’m not sure if we’ll fast-forward it, maybe add a teleportation gate or something, or we’d introduce another problem along the way. We’ll have our REND chapter as scheduled later.)