Bathing in the blood

They walked for two weeks, Jäwell followed the caravan of merchants with a lot of curiosity. Their way of living was different from what he knew, and he loved the nomadic routines. Every day was about adventures, exchanges, and discoveries. Eating, drinking, and dancing in the night near the firecamp. It was a simple life, worth to be experienced at least for a time. It was somehow remembering Zuline's tribe's way of life. Minus the intimacy at night. Jäwell chuckled as he thought about this specific part of his travel with the Jessadians. 

The horse pulled the caravan until they finally reached the city. Jäwell had to admit that he was amazed by the view. There was something magical about the palm trees and cactuses decorating the colorful alleys. The shadows of the trees protected the inhabitants from the burning sun. Everything was modern and even if they were in times of war, there was something modern and dynamic about this city. Jäwell liked it a lot, but something was a bit off. He wanted to join the conflict, not start a new life as a scholar. 

People in the market were talking loudly, commenting on the war and its potential outcomes, but they were mostly betting and gambling about the chances of success in this or that battle. Jäwell never saw a population so calm at the idea of being concerned by a fight, except if the country was winning and not even feeling threatened. The caravan stopped in the main place of the town and Jäwell hoped from it. He had a big smile while gathering his weapons.

"Thanks for the ride," He told them kindly while waving his hand.

"Take care, traveler!" The little group answered very simply. 

They parted away without more familiarities. Jäwell looked at the town in front of him and its secrets, he took a deep breath in satisfaction. It was promising to be very interesting to him. At first, he headed to what seemed to be a tavern. From his logic, there was always a way to find information in the taverns. Especially in the evening when people started to be free to speak and get drunk. To find out how to join the military forces of the town, this place was probably his best chance to find out how to be recruited. When he was the prince of his land under Zarkhaïm's rule, he was recruiting young ones in the bars and brothels, it was logical to him that any other ruler would do the same, despite hearing the voice of Miroïr repeating that this was not how it should be done. He was sure that his method was universal. 

Jäwell spotted a main tavern in the central place, so he decided to explore the town a bit and come back at night. When he entered a few hours later, he immediately saw a group of soldiers sitting around a table and sipping their beers. They looked in the direction of Jäwell as soon as he passed the doorway. For sure, he looked suspicious. He was a lone traveler with weapons looking like nothing known due to their very strange steel, not to mention that most of the people living here had tanned skin while Jäwell was white due to his life in the Ombrae, he was at the limit of being translucid. 

To them, he looked sick and dangerous. Jäwell smiled, he loved it deeply. The prince took a seat at an empty table and listened to the conversations around him, but, as expected, the group of soldiers stopped to talk and started to stare at him.

Jäwell made a sign to the waitress to bring him a beer and she executed herself without questions. When the beer was served, Jäwell could not be more pleased. The taste of alcohol, the real taste of the real alcohol. If Robin was great at importing Rhum, he was terrible about beer and Jäwell let escape a moan of satisfaction at the sweet taste of the hale in his mouth, feeling slightly dizzy rapidly. He almost forgot how good it was to feel mortal and impacted by the effect of a beer.

He chuckled as a burp went out of him, his stomach was fragile after all the stuff he had to eat in the desert with the caravan, things such as insects and lizards which had way too many colors to be edible.

After he finished his beer, Jäwell was about to order a second one when one of the soldiers intercepted the waitress. Another came to sit at Jäwell's table, and in a fraction of a second, everyone in the tavern became silent. Waiting for the drama to happen.

"It would be preferable for you to leave, Cardanician," The man said with deep hatred.

Jäwell raised an eyebrow, "How did you call me?"

"Cardanician, you are from Cardanic, aren't you? You did like all other refugees, when you saw you were losing the war you came to our city to find shelter and betray your land, right?"

Jäwell looked at the man with a perplexed expression, "Oh… So, here, you are winning the war?"

"What? Of course, we do! What is this question?"

Jäwell stood up and replaced his cloak over his shoulders in one move, "I must have made a mistake, sorry. I wanted to join the losers' camp."

The men were shocked at Jäwell's attitude and didn't comprehend what he was implying, they all pushed their chairs and surrounded him with hatred in their eyes that made Jäwell have goosebumps in excitement.

"Who do you think you are?! Come with us, refugee! We will ask you a few questions" One of them said as he took his saber out of his belt and pointed the blade in the direction of Jäwell menacingly.

The prince chuckled, amused, "I would not do this if I was you. I just want to leave, buddy, no worries. Just let me pass."

But the man didn't hear it this way and insisted. Pressing his blade against Jäwell's chest. Another took a step towards him and tried to grab his wrist. That was the signal for Jäwell, his lips curled up and he showed true happiness. 

As the man was about to attack him, Jäwell unsheathed his sword. Dancing around the tables with a grace he rarely showed, he deeply enjoyed this intense exchange with the soldiers. Dodging one blade and hurting another, he slid under a table to appear on the back of an attacker, he grabbed a chair as a shield and threw it to one of the soldiers while he sliced the throat of another. 

There were screams in the tavern when the fight started, everyone ran away quickly and the blood spread onto the floor in record time. The two remaining soldiers looked at their friend falling dead with a shocked expression. Jäwell was standing in the middle of the pool of blood, his sword low, pearling from the crimson liquid while his sweaty and blood-stained hair was glued to his face.

"What?" He asked, surprised to see the horrified expression of the soldiers in front of him, "You never saw a friend dying?"

The men yelled to give themselves courage, suddenly, the fight was much different. The soldiers were afraid, and it was easy to guess that they were just a militia in town patrolling the bars and simulating to have power and strength. In a real fight, they were no match. 

Jäwell sliced the foot of one of the two remaining, using the fact that the soldier bent in pain to slide on him back to back, then, he pressed his legs onto the wall and, in one impulse, smashed the guard with his back to force his belly on the floor. The poor man panicked to be touching the blood of his friend and lost consciousness as soon as the blood touched his face and lips. 

As for the remaining one, when Jäwell stood up, he simply could not see him anymore. It took him a few minutes to find him hiding behind the counter, shaking. Jäwell crouched at his level and smiled kindly.

"So, where should I go to find the losers' camp?" He asked as politely as possible. 

The man raised his head, trembling, tears flooded his face and he was now weeping like a child, "The border is two hundred kilometers in the West. You will find the first enemy camp there."

Jäwell thought for a moment and then nodded, "Thanks, buddy!" He said before patting the shoulder of the soldier and leaving the tavern. The terrified man cried in the background even louder. 

As he left, he used his cape to clean his sword and started to whistle, walking in the direction of his new destination with incomparable joy and excitement. Taking in the freshness of the night and enjoying the little sportive activity he just did.

In town, in the early morning, there already was a rumor mentioning a demon in a black cape sent from Cardanic to destroy the inhabitants inside the city at night. Dancing in the blood and devouring their soul. When Jäwell heard it, he laughed to himself, "That was nice foreplay, I can't wait for the big thing to happen!".