To leave a legacy

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

((Closed to Ayithe Solete. Follows the events of The Gnarled Roots of Osiris II: The Council of Five))

Stretching across the harsh and frigid northlands, the vast, mighty kingdom of Salvar was still rebuilding from years of civil war between its Church and State. Though the clashes had quieted, and the two sides had finally reconciled in a de-facto peace, both had been reduced to fractions of their former power. Anarchy and chaos reign supreme as the citizens of the icy wastes of Salvar struggle to survive.

That was what Shinsou and Bane were told.

Their campfire occupied the centre of a clearing just north from Salvar’s port of Tirel. As Bane, the burly ranger that had been ever-present at the Telgradian’s side, looked around, he saw the ghosts of his men staring back at him. Those weather beaten and rough looking rangers all perched around the coals, their black coats and fleeces pulled tight to protect them from a night in the open and their focused faces illuminated by the flickers of the dancing flames in front of them. There would have been no complaints of the cold of this place, and as they talked in hushed tones they would all sharpen their weapons and waited patiently for their food to cook.

Now, they were all dead, killed in an ambush on Corone’s coastal path. They were men he missed dearly, and if it hadn’t of been for Shinsou, he would likely have joined them on the corpse pile.

For that, he was thankful.

Perched on the snow-dusted trunk of a fallen tree, Shinsou Vaan Osiris peered out from underneath his hood, pulling his fleece tightly around him to keep in the warmth. Unlike the last time he had been around a fire, comparatively weak and helpless and dependant on Bane’s brute strength, he felt complete again. He had worked tirelessly on self-improvement, fighting challengers in Corone’s mighty Citadel and searching for relics and artefacts that may have aided him in recovering his lost power. Last month, he had returned from Raiaera with the very Mask of Ryft, a Telgradian artefact that had been lost to the cave of Mythandral with Atlas Soltair for centuries. It had been a Telgradian legend, the cave, and Shinsou had found it with Bane’s help. With time, and patience, Shinsou had used the mask’s abilities to commune with Enpera’s soul and reach the peak of his skills once again.

As the heat of the fire licked at his cold cheeks, Shinsou looked around to Bane. He didn’t truly observe him too often, but as the Telgradian’s eyes fell upon his chassis, he saw the man was more of a giant than he had realised – his own young, infallible complexion and comparatively meagre frame must have looked so out of place next to that of the battle hardened former ranger. Men like Bane were a tough and complex breed. After all, that’s why he had originally hired Bane as an escort. He was experienced and a man of great strength, for the most part. But now, in these times, the man was so much more than just a hired hand. They had become fast friends. The only thing that troubled Shinsou was the worry that friendship and muscle would count for very little against what he expected to be sent his way any day now.

He had felt it when they had arrived in Salvar, and he could still feel it now.

“Telos Soltair is here in Salvar, Bane. I’m sure of it.”

Bane spat into the coals just to hear the sizzle as his saliva evaporated, which had now become a terrible habit of his. His monstrous shoulders were barely concealed by a tattered coat, hardly appropriate attire for the hellish cold of Salvar. He sported his traditional year-old black beard with thin sideburns meeting a sort of crew cut on top; a proper ranger’s haircut. A giant custom double-edged sword, which was basically two great broadswords welded together at their hilts, lay in the snow at his feet and the flawless steel of its blades glimmered in the fire.

The man turned to Shinsou, and raised an eyebrow.

“You can sense each other’s presence?”

“It’s complicated,” Shinsou said, brushing a hand through his freezing brown locks. “…because it’s him, I just know.” As he shrugged, his breath hit the cold air and turned to steam.

Bane repositioned his sword he had by his feet onto his shoulder, and began to polish it.

“Can he sense you?”

Shinsou gulped down a cup of Bane’s ale that he had by his side. As it hit the back of his throat, he could taste and smell the familiar strength of the stuff, and decided that one was all he really needed, wiping his mouth with the corner of his sleeve.

“We’d already be dead if he could.”

“Good,” the ranger replied, “That buys us some time here.”

“Bane, I have a lot to thank you for,” Shinsou started again, rubbing his hands to warm them. “…but listen well. This will be a fight over Telgradian affairs, and I want you well away from it. I don’t want you killed because of me.”

Bane didn’t look up. Instead, he reached down for one of the bags by his side and flung it at the fire.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid. You think I came all the way here to do nothing but freeze my arse off and scrape you off the floor?”

The canvas bag spun through the air, and as it struck the fire it ignited, feeding the flames with fuel once more.