"You know, using that magic of yours could help dry your face quicker. Although it wouldn't fix the swelling."
"Ahaha…" Tiva forced herself to laugh. "High Elder, I don't think using it for such trifling—"
"For swelling, my body enhancement magic might help," Tatanka suddenly spoke. "All you have to do is—"
"Stop trying to push your magic on others, boy! Tiva has done more than enough alrea—"
"There is nothing wrong with learning something new whenever you have the chance, Mother! Why are you—"
"Then how about I teach her every stone spell and every story I know? Oh, wait, I've already done—"
"Then how about I take her on another pilgrimage and teach her how to hunt the largest mammoths around? Oh wait, I've—"
"Boy, just because you've grown a little, that doesn't give you the right to talk to your mother—no, to the High Elder of the village like—"
"Okay, okay, stop!" Tiva intervened between the mother and son, who were stuck in an endless competition of who could help the young lady more, both of their parental spirits having flared up as if Tiva were the daughter of either one of them.
In doing so, the girl forgot about all of her worries for a second. Breathing heavily from the tense atmosphere, she stood up tall, stretched her hand to the sides to stop the two, and it only took her seconds to burst out into laughter.
"Look what you've done! Now I really won't have time to dry my face!" the young lady said, wiping the tears that wouldn't stop coming out. However, she didn't mind those tears. None of them did, for those tears didn't come from sorrow.
"Dear child, if it's those tears, I could watch you shed them forever."
Next to his mother, Tatanka nodded and spoke.
"Yes, those tears fit."
With their moods on the rise, the three walked through the trodden grass, watching impatient leaves race to determine who could turn from green to yellow the fastest. From time to time, one of them would start a conversation, but it was never anything important. They talked about the weather and the surroundings, and they reminisced about days of old and stories from when Tiva was still little, even if the lady wasn't too keen on that.
"By the way, Tiva, Isn't it about time you start searching for a man yourself?" the elder asked in a fashion characteristic of a mother waiting for grandsons. "I fear that if I get much older, I might not be able to raise them—"
"Okay, stop! Again!" Tiva said, taken aback by how it hasn't been long since the last time she had to hit the brakes while talking to the woman next to her.
"Ah! There I go again pushing everything on you. How silly of me! It's my son whom I should be scolding for not finding anyone. Look at you! Soon, you'll miss your time, boy!"
Rather annoyed than bashful, Tatanka looked at the mother whose gaze was taking shots at him. For a second, it felt like the man would lose his cool, as if that subject had been discussed too many times before, but a deep breath was enough to calm him down before he spoke.
"Mother, it's a bit hard to start a family when the last years of my life have been spent away on pilgrimages. But you should know that. You're the one who approved all of them, after all."
"Ah, did I? I guess the years are starting to catch up on me," the woman said, scratching her head. Needless to say, the two next to her knew well enough that her memory was still in perfect shape.
"You'll have to forget your mother—" the high elder continued, wanting to say something more, if not for the loud bang that resounded somewhere far off in the distance.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Taking a moment to pinpoint where the sound came from, the screams of another villager finally reached Tiva's ears.
"Tatanka! High Elder!" the man screamed as he ran with all his might towards the group.
The one stepping forth to listen to the man was none other than the most capable Tatanka-Ska.
"What happened? Where did that sound come from?" the man asked, the air around getting cooler with the hint of incoming danger.
"It's the… It's the Remans!" the villager said, heavy breaths escaping his lungs with both fatigue and worry.
"They've started moving again in the Far East!"
*****
Never in his life had he done anything to deserve this. During his childhood, he was a simple Reman boy, living a simple life like any other poor kid walking the streets in search of friends.
Be it the capital, be it a town, or even the most isolated village, simple life was never easy. Simple people lacked too much, and that was shown in the clothes the boy was wearing. On top of that, he was also dirty, as he went around running through the dust raised by horses, caravans, and humans all day.
Yet the one thing he had was love. He had a loving family, and that alone was enough for Giovanni to grow healthy. It was a love that brought more than money, it was a love that valued so much more, and when taken away from that love, the lieutenant's life got turned upside down.
His family was not from Merlobasso. He was not from the shiny capital where water flows through shiny conduits. Yet, back then, not even the capital was a place of peace and beauty. Whenever he thinks about the capital of old, he remembers the dirty canals, the angry looks of the people, and the overall gloomy atmosphere.
He can't deny that Rema had grown much in a short time, but that growth didn't spread much besides the capital. While Merlobasso was now home to many more smiles, the rest of the small country didn't fare too well.
Just as he had been taken by force, many other young adults found themselves in the army in much the same way. War was the primary source of Rema's development. It was through war that they built, expanded, and gained riches.
It was war that had brought the man where he was, but where he was now brought him nothing but pain.
"All that because of a bit of water…" Giovanni said back when he was locked up in the cell, annoyed at the general who put him there out of jealousy and a maddened drive to get what the lieutenant had stumbled upon by chance.
Brought into the army against his will, he was given a higher rank only to be a scapegoat for everyone's mistakes. Taken to war against his will, he found himself face-to-face with death, and that death took the form of both a canyon and a giant bird.
Only once did luck shine a ray on him, and that ray turned out to burn him instead.
"I've never even asked for this…"
The blessing of the Sacred Waters, sought by many yet found by none, could have taken Giovanni on higher peaks than even Aurelio had reached. It could have given him the chance to stand with the greats. It could have given him everything he didn't have as a child.
It could have been a blessing, but instead, it dragged the general's gaze towards him. It made him a target.
As strong as he was, he was nothing compared to an army. No, even if he was, he had to obey, for that was Giovanni's way of being. Ever since the day he had signed up for the army, he had been obedient. He accepted everything with a straight face. Every time he had been taken advantage of, his heart only grew colder, and in turn, the muscles on his face got weaker, for there was no reason to show emotion since he had no need to do so.
Yet, those muscles twitched for the first time when he was in the dungeon, and it wasn't for a smile but for a twisted, angry frown.
In the dungeon, he had been hungry. In the dungeon, he had been thirsty. In the dungeon, he had been cold. He felt rage, but he couldn't express it.
In that cell, with his face hidden in his palms, Giovanni tried his hardest to calm down. He had to, because he was a soldier. No, that wasn't the only reason. He knew that he couldn't show any emotion, for whenever he had done so, the world punished him.
All of his smiles as a kid, yet he was still drafted. All of his frowns in the army, yet he was still taken to battles. All of that fear, yet he was still given magical water.
Yet, even when he kept a straight face, a dungeon was all that awaited him.
"So then… why?" Giovanni asked himself.
"Why should I keep this act going?"
Smiles were bad. Frowns were bad. Fear was bad. He knew that already, but it was only now—when a straight face brought him more misfortune—that he understood:
"It was never about any of those…" Giovanni said, now standing in the middle of a battlefield in the open plains..
"Whatever I do, it won't ever get better."
As he spoke, his face convulsed and twisted into many expressions, yet none gave a clear sense of emotion. His eyes were laughing, but his mouth frowned. His ears twitched, yet his cheeks stayed still. His nose kept going up and down, and what resulted was a sigh hard to look upon.
"Whatever I do, the world will go against me," he said, a twisted spark lighting up his gaze.
He soon after unsheathed the sword from his side.
"If it's me against the world," he continued, swinging at purple light that came rushing his way.
"Then I might as well fight against the whole world!"
It was then that his sword parried an ivory knife.
"What the hell are you even saying?" a voice shouted—a voice that came from a boy wearing purple tattoos. What followed was a loud boom, and the second clash between those two started by will of fate.