Chapter 08 - The journey begins

The next morning, Avia and Putt arrived early at the grand house where Oon had brought her the previous day. Oon greeted them, her hair styled more simply than before, though she still wore her lavish attire. Soon after, two guards clad in the viceroy’s colors joined them. Avia noted their minimal armor and the weapons they carried—a sword, spear, and shield each. She appreciated their practical gear; this was to be a journey, not a battle.
Accompanying them was a mule, laden with supplies. Avia introduced herself and shook hands with the guards, who seemed taken aback and muttered their names so quietly she had to ask them to repeat. Their names were Sinik and Pho. Both were athletic, though Sinik's lanky frame seemed to belie his strength, and Pho's youthful, unassuming face might undermine his authority. They struck Avia as inexperienced, likely unaccustomed to roles beyond that of ordinary soldiers, perhaps even unknown to Oon.
Avia believed in visible, accountable action rather than blind obedience. She preferred her commands to be questioned if unclear, as misinterpretations could lead to errors. She made it a point to let Sinik and Pho know that questions were welcome, aiming to prevent any misunderstandings. She introduced Putt as her grandson and apprentice, though she couldn't help feeling defensive about his current lack of skills.
She insisted on non-violent treatment of the prisoner unless an escape attempt was made, stressing respect yet professional distance. Oon remained noncommittal, observing in silence, a sign that unsettled Avia. She asserted her command clearly to ensure there were no doubts about her authority.
"I also want to emphasize that I am in charge of this transport," Avia declared, watching Oon.
"Of course," Oon replied, again, her tone smooth but distant.
Sinik and Pho exchanged glances, choosing to remain silent. Oon nodded, and they proceeded to retrieve the prisoner.
"Putt, you’ll be in charge of the mule," Avia directed him. "Observe everything and come to me in private with any questions."
Putt nodded, taking the reins and soothing the mule with a gentle touch and quiet words, seeming to find some comfort in a familiar task amidst the uncertainty of recent days.
The guards returned with the prisoner, a slender woman, elegantly dressed in a dark green dress with gold embroidery, suggesting wealth. Her red-brown hair was simply tied, and her hands were bound in front. Avia noted her beauty and resolved to keep a watchful eye on the young guards.
"My name is Avia, and I'm in charge of transporting you to Posita. Any questions?" she asked the prisoner, who shook her head. "Your name is Hockheba?" The prisoner nodded, confirming the information.
Avia caught a disapproving look from Oon. By directly confirming the prisoner's name, she might have implied distrust in the information Oon had provided. Internally, Avia sighed. Establishing trust with Hockheba could prove crucial during the journey, a nuance of her strategy to ensure a smooth mission. Trust with the prisoner might be more instrumental than a deeper connection with her employer. Oon had tasked her with the mission, placed faith in her competence; beyond that, their relationship needn't be complex. This professional approach, focusing on effective and humane transportation rather than personal relationships, was a cornerstone of Avia's method, regardless of how others might perceive it.


Navigating the new reality far from the structured routine of Peragri was a daily challenge for Putt. His old life, once defined by predictability and security, had evaporated overnight, leaving him adrift in a world reshaped by his grandmother’s adventurous spirit. While he had always revered Avia as a legendary figure akin to the warriors of his favorite tales, embracing this path himself felt daunting and surreal.
The task of transporting a prisoner seemed a mundane affair compared to the epic exploits he had envisioned warriors undertaking. Yet, there he was, part of a narrative that seemed both ordinary and essential, his role underscored by his recent, embarrassing attempt to fit in with seasoned soldiers. Oon’s apparent dismissal of him as just a child had stung, intensifying his desire to prove his worth.
Trailing behind the group, leading the mule, Putt's mind wandered. He observed Sinik and Pho ahead of him, their presence a constant reminder of his current inadequacies. He felt invisible, trivialized by Oon’s indifference, which seemed to erase his significance before it had even been established.
His thoughts often returned to the prisoner, Hockheba, whose demeanor contradicted his expectations of a criminal. The narratives he cherished—those of misunderstood prisoners vindicated by heroic warriors—colored his perception, making him question the justice of her captivity.
Caught in these reflections, Putt was startled by Avia’s voice, breaking into his contemplations with a question that pulled him back to the present.
"Putt, you need to learn to talk to people, even if you don't know them. It’s a valuable skill. What’s the worst that could happen?" she asked, her tone casual yet probing.
“That they despise me?” Putt responded, the weight of potential rejection heavy in his voice.
"And if they did?" Avia countered, her question rhetorical, tinged with an encouraging smile. Putt struggled to grasp the casual dismissal of his fears. To be despised felt like the ultimate failure, irreconcilable with his aspirations of heroism.
Avia’s gaze sharpened, her next words cutting to the core of his insecurities.
“How will you ever learn anything if you're so afraid of making mistakes?” It was a challenge, pushing him to confront his fears head-on. "Sinik usually walks in front of you. Talk to him. Learn something from him," she urged.
"What's the point of learning something from a someone who will have no part in my life?" he uttered with his teeth almost glued together with shame and anger. This was not fair! He was only a boy!
"The point is, that if you want to be a warrior, you can't stare at your feet all day. Do you think being a warrior is nothing more than handling a weapon? Do you think people will respect a warrior who can handle a sword but doesn't dare to speak to a stranger?"
The next day, Putt mustered the courage to speak to Sinik during a brief pause in their march. His initial greeting was met with indifference, which only intensified his nervousness.
“Have you any training in safety and security?” Putt asked, his voice betraying his anxiety.
“What da ya mean?” Sinik’s response was gruff, dismissive, his interest clearly elsewhere.
“Well, I...” Putt faltered, the soldier’s hostility undermining his already fragile confidence.
“If ya mean that yo' master’s a grand, almighty warrior, yo're right. And she an' all other warriors can stuff all their pig shit up their asses,” Sinik spat out, his words laced with contempt.
Putt was left speechless, his initial attempt at conversation turning into a harsh lesson in the realities of interpersonal dynamics.
Later, he relayed the encounter to Avia, his tone mixed with embarrassment and a hint of indignation. Avia, surprisingly, laughed it off, her amusement at Sinik’s crude dismissal easing some of Putt’s embarrassment but leaving him confused about the complex layers of adult interactions.
Despite the rocky start, Avia arranged for Sinik to give Putt a personal training session that evening. The soldier, flattered by the attention, turned out to be a patient instructor, his directness helping Putt navigate the awkwardness of learning a new skill.
As Putt struggled with the wooden sword, feeling clumsy and exposed under the watchful eyes of the prisoner, Hockheba, he caught her smiling—a simple, sweet expression that inexplicably bolstered his courage. Emboldened, he managed to catch Sinik off guard with a well-timed move, a small victory in his ongoing battle with self-doubt and a step closer to understanding the true essence of being a warrior.


The terrain through which they journeyed was nothing like the familiar fields of Peragri. Each step on this winding mountain path brought new sights that both thrilled and intimidated Putt. Ice-capped mountains and steep cliffs bordered the trail, offering vistas so vast they seemed plucked from the very stories that had colored his childhood. Occasionally, the path would level out, revealing isolated farms nestled in wider, flatter patches of land, only to narrow again, clinging to the mountainside.
His grandmother had given him a new task, pushing him further out of his comfort zone. This time, he was to converse with Pho, the other soldier, which seemed even more daunting than his interaction with Sinik. Unlike before, he couldn't speak to Pho while on the move, as the soldier walked ahead in the formation. The idea of initiating a conversation during a rest period, in front of everyone, twisted his stomach into knots.
Despite the dread, Avia's advice echoed in his mind: if he felt foolish afterward, he could take solace in knowing that once the mission ended, he wouldn't see these people again. They would return to their lives in Kaid Pah, and he would move on with his grandmother. This thought provided little solace, though, as he would have preferred his only task to be managing the mule in silence.
When they stopped to camp for the night, Putt took a deep breath and approached Pho, who was sitting near the prisoner. "Hello," he ventured, aiming for casualness but feeling every bit the intruder.
"Hello," Pho responded, eyeing him curiously.
"Where do you come from?" Putt blurted out, his nerves getting the better of him.
Pho looked taken aback, and before he could respond, Sinik chimed in with a hint of irritation, "Why do ya ask these strange questions out of the blue?"
"My grandmother asked me to," Putt replied, his voice small.
Avia, focusing on starting a fire, corrected him without looking up. "As your master, boy, not your grandmother."
Putt puzzled over her distinction, but it was a query for another time.
"And what business does a warrior master have, telling her boy to pry into our personal matters?" Sinik demanded, his tone accusatory.
Putt wished the ground would swallow him up. He had unintentionally caused trouble for Avia yet again, but instead of rebuking him, she continued calmly with her task.
"Do you think he's good at talking to strangers?" Avia asked the group, her tone even. "For some, social interaction is natural; for others, it’s a skill that requires practice. He's not prying; he's learning to overcome his shyness. A question is a good way to start a conversation. If it offends, it's the wrong question, and that too is a valuable lesson."
As the fire crackled to life under Avia's skilled hands, Sinik unpacked food without further comment. Pho returned his gaze to the fire, seemingly lost in thought. Oon remained aloof on her blanket, disinterested in the exchange. Only the prisoner, Hockheba, seemed to take notice of Putt.
She beckoned him closer with a gentle gesture. "Being shy isn’t a crime," she said in a husky voice. "But it won't serve you well. Your master is right; you should work on it."
Putt glanced back at Avia, her approving nod sending a mix of embarrassment and resolve through him. He stepped back, clutching his wooden sword, and retreated from the camp to practice his drills alone. He had endured enough social interaction for one day, each encounter chipping away at his reserve but also slowly building his courage for the path ahead.