Brindorum

I

Nazeir entered a tavern in a village at the foot of the mountain frontier. The shop owner only filled the quiet shop. Nazeir walked to the counter and sat down on his stool. The owner of the tavern was full of muscles. However, he looks friendly. He greeted the inquisitor with a smile.

"Stay overnight?" asked the shop owner.

"Stop a minute," Nazeir raised his hand. "Just a few minutes."

"Drink or eat?" he leaned over the bar table.

"Eat."

"What do you want?"

"How about kebabs?"

The tavern owner sucked the air out of his mouth.

"About that. Kebabs are no longer served here."

"What's wrong?" the inquisitor was astonished.

"You know, kebabs are made in the Duchy of Ghazi, one of the satellites of Uthgaard. So, because of this conflict, Brindorum doesn't want to provide or give anything that smells of anything that comes from them."

"Unlucky."

"Sorry," he said disappointedly. "I can't do anything."

"Any dim-sum?"

"That we do!" he smiled widely. "Let me steam it first. What do you want for the drink?"

Nazeir pointed to a bottle that said tea. The shop owner took the tea leaves in the bottle and made the inquisitor a hot tea.

"You clearly not from here," Nazeir said to the owner of the tavern.

"No, I moved here because of my wife. She owns a bakery behind the tavern."

"So where are you from?"

"The cold, dry land of Ghazi."

"No wonder you looked sluggish when I asked for a kebab. It's a long way. Don't you miss home? Maybe go back to your hometown?"

"I'd like to. It's just that the time isn't right yet," he spoke as he steamed the inquisitor's order. "My wife and I just had a child, so it's a bit more difficult to travel long distances. Plus, this business and other things."

As the two inside the tavern exchanged words, outside could be seen thousands of Brindorian soldiers marching in line towards the mountains. The sound of loud feet can be heard outside as far as the room. The soldiers carried their war spears on their shoulders. Nazeir could see rural people arriving to watch the soldiers go to the border of the northern and southern continents.

Nazeir took another sip of his tea, moistening his dry neck. The shop owner brought the inquisitor his dim sum. The inquisitor took his chopsticks and ate them.

"And where's your wife from?"

"Isn't it obvious with all this? She's originally from here."

"Yeah, that sounds right."

"If I want to live, I will choose somewhere more comfortable. Qis is too cold, blue, sometimes gray."

"What do you think? Going to Brindorum or Uthgaard? Both cities look comfortable to people."

"Brindorum is dirty on the outside. Uthgaard? I just can't cross the border, isn't that just great?"

"Then, what's the alternative?"

"The Volga might be comfortable. Even though it's winter, as the same as here. But it's not as cold and intense as what people here usually feel."

"Why don't you go straight through Kwalai? The Volga and Kwalai are close, just cross the border between East and West Batunn quietly. You'll be in Brindorum in two or three nights."

"No," he smiled. "I don't want to threaten the life of my newborn with such a risky idea. The Volga is enough." The two of them stopped talking for a while before the tavern owner raised his lips. "Talk about the border. Do you want to cross the mountain border?"

"Yes," he replied as he ate.

"Be careful. Winter seems to come soon. The snowy mountains make it difficult for people to cross."

"I can do it. Don't worry about me."

"Rarely do people go north alone. Usually, they are accompanied by friends. How about you?"

"I can go by myself and my horse. Now, you don't have to think about me. OK?"

The man smiled.

"Very well, sir. I just want you and the others to be safe on the way. Too many people have just died to pass through these mountains," the man spoke as he cleared the drinking glasses.

"You know where they're going?" Nazeir pointed out with his chopsticks, pointing them at the passing soldiers.

"I don't know. But it's not the first time."

The tavern door opened, three Brindorian soldiers entered. Each still carried his sword. They looked like top-tier warriors. All three have different colors.

"Three coffees, please," said a soldier to the owner of the tavern.

The man nodded and prepared hot water for the men's coffee. As he made coffee, the three soldiers sat beside the lone inquisitor. Nazeir just kept quiet and poured tea from the teapot into his glass, then he just stood still and looked at the tea.

When Nazeir looked at his tea, one soldier whispered to his friend. Then he looked at Nazeir.

"Where do you come from?" he scolds.

"I don't come from anywhere. I live along the way."

The people smirked in disbelief at what the inquisitor said.

"'Along the way'? What does that mean?"

"I'm not staying settled."

The soldier's comrade rebuked him. They talked behind the inquisitor's back.

"Looks like he's an Uthgaardian soldier," the soldier whispered to his comrade.

"Just hold on, he'll talk eventually," he replied. The man turned back to Nazeir while turning his whole body towards him. "What's with your armor? I've never seen one like that."

"What are you asking about this armor for?"

"I just wanted to know," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, we're here to pass the time before something we've been waiting for is over," he paused for a moment. "So where did you get this armor from?"

"A gift," he replied.

"Are you sure this is a gift?" asked the soldier as he leaned closer to the inquisitor.

"Of course, I know. Isn't this mine?"

The man looked at Nazeir, the inquisitor looked back while giving him an eyebrow. He slowly moved away from the inquisitor and closed his eyes with a small laugh.

"Well then, congratulations. May the armor bring the safety you deserve." He laughed while looking at his table, his mouth still open after he stopped laughing. "I wonder who made it. Was he from around here? Maybe from Jozai or Three Cities."

Nazeir ignored him and gave the tavern owner a fee for his drink without eating. Nazeir stood up and started walking to the door. The soldiers looked at each other before following the inquisitor out. Icy wind took away his warmth. Nazeir walked towards his horse at the back of the hut and his equipment. The soldiers followed Nazeir who was untying his horse.

"Hey, listen, sir. We meant nothing. Come on, come back to the tavern with us."

Nazeir mounted his horse and immediately rode away from them. The inquisitor passed through the highway, which was lined with thousands of soldiers. There were people who glanced at Nazeir. As he passed the soldiers, he reached the end of the line. There were several of the squad leaders who looked at him with curiosity.

He simply looked ahead and rode towards the mountain border. The horseshoe clacked on the rock. Toro breathed the steam as he approached the top. The inquisitor saw Toro moving his head left and right against the inquisitor's request. Nazeir, who knew his horse was tired from climbing these hills, immediately looked for a cave for them to rest.

II

The inquisitor came with a bundle of wood and branches in hand. Nazeir dropped it onto the cave's rocky surface. He sat down and snapped his finger so that a fire blazed at the tip of his index finger. He lit the fire and warmed the surroundings.

The cave he used to rest in wasn't that big, just enough for Toro to rest comfortably. The place is just a notch in the mountain. As usual, Nazeir sat and faced the light that lit up the cave. The inquisitor leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Nazeir who was meditating, calmed his heart. He was soft now, like a silk. Holy serenity, dispelling the tension that enveloped the inquisitor. Extinguish the fire of anger that he has. However, that feeling is still in the depths of his heart. Nazeir could see his bloody hands holding the two children. He was filled with fear, then hate, then anger. His relaxed body tensed up. Muscles tightened, his hands shook as he clenched his palm.

Blood came out of his forehead.

Nazeir opened his eyes quickly. His heart was pounding fast. Sweat fell from the forehead. Not ordinary sweat, but blood. The inquisitor calmed his breath. He raised a hand to wipe his forehead. While it was wiped off, he could see his own blood coming out of his forehead more clearly.

The inquisitor was in a daze, his vision fading to darkness, his body felt heavy. He blinked a few times before his vision returned to normal. Frightened by his own blood, the inquisitor took a small pot from his horse's bag, then he went into the darkness alone with a torch from his bonfire.

His deep footing made Nazeir walk slowly. He wandered into a small stream of water in the dark night. As the stream was in front of him, the inquisitor plunged the torch into the snow.

He washed his bloodied face. The cold water caressed Nazeir's bearded face. The small torch only shone a few meters away from the flame. Nazeir took his pot and filled it with cold water. When the pot was full, he stood up and walked back to his cave.

Along the way, Nazeir left his footprints deep in the snow. It was a silent night. Nazeir could hear only the deafening silence. The only thing that filled this night was the stars that seemed clearer than anywhere else. The stars seemed to speak to the inquisitor, accompanying him and guarding him from the surrounding darkness.

He finally arrived in front of the cave. When he looked around the place, he saw the old man sitting in front of the bonfire. Nazeir froze for a moment, thinking about who he had just seen. Nazeir finally walked closer. The old man saw Nazeir coming to the fire and hanging the pot with a branch above the fire.

The two of them sat by the fire.

"What are you doing here?" Nazeir asked.

"Just looking at the view."

"What scene do you see here? Honestly, you've met me twice and done things like this."

"Listen, Nazeir. Do you like buffalo?"

"Okay, now I know you want to change the subject of our conversation."

The old man patted the ground twice, and a buffalo skull appeared. Nazeir glanced at the skull, his forehead furrowed. The old man pushed the head toward the inquisitor.

"A gift from the past. Maybe you want one."

Nazeir was getting nervous about reaching for the skull. When the hand approached his, he immediately pulled back his hand. He held his own wrist, looking at his hands, which were covered by leather gloves. He was frightened, then looked at the old man.

"What game are you playing, old man?"

"Nothing! It's just a gift to you. Maybe he'll keep you safe."

As he spoke, Nazeir heard a voice in the background. The crumbling of leaves and branches that were crushed made the inquisitor alert. The old man heard it too, and he immediately stood up.

"Maybe it's time for me to go," he said. He turned around and walked out of the cave without the inquisitor's hindrance. When he touched the snow, his body glowed, and he disappeared instantly.

III

Sound of footsteps was getting closer. The inquisitor walked to his horse bag and turned his back on himself from where the voice had come. The inquisitor made a rustling sound from his bag, not looking for anything.

At first, the noise from the bag was low, but after a while, the inquisitor made it louder. From behind, Nazeir could hear slow breathing getting faster.

A soldier ran with a sword in his hand. He charged at Nazeir shouting, causing Toro to wake up startled. The man thrust his sword at the inquisitor. Nazeir stepped aside and caught the man's sword. From the direction of the cave entrance, two other soldiers came running towards him.

Nazeir removed the soldier's hand from his sword, hooked his sword, and struck the soldier's head with the handle of the sword. The man fell on the rock like a stone. They slightly shocked the other two people when they saw their comrade fall unconscious. Nazeir hurriedly took his pot and threw the boiling water at one of the soldiers. The person was splashed with the boiling how water on his face. He took off his helmet and held his blistered face. The man ran out of the cave and fell in the snow, trying to cool his skin.

The last soldier threw snow at Nazeir's face, he boiling water at one of the soldiers. The person was splashed. He took off his helmet and held his blistered face. The man ran out of the cave and fell into the snow.

The last soldier threw snow at Nazeir's face, tripping him down. The man sat on Nazeir and pulled out his dagger. With both hands, the soldier thrust his dagger towards Nazeir's heart.

He held the soldier's hand with all his might. He could feel his own heartbeat speed up, adrenaline pumping through his blood. His muscles could be seen tightening, and the hands could feel tighter in the soldier's hands. The person whimpered in pain when Nazeir squeezed the person's pulse in his hand. The soldier fell in pain beside the inquisitor.

"Who are you?" Nazeir asked.

"I'm just a soldier, sir. Please spare me!"

Nazeir starts to crush his hand with his foot.

"Who sent you here?"

"How about you fuck off."

Nazeir cracked his bone. There's a loud cracking can be heard. The soldier tapped Nazeir foot begging him to stop.

"You still have one arm. I think you should keep it. Now, who sent you here?"

"Colonel Adam!"

"Where?"

"Brindorum!"

"Description?"

"Thick mustache, one of the high commands!"

"Be more helpful before I crush another."

"Wait! He's got feathers on his war helmet. "

"The color?"

"I don't know! Who knows such things?"

Nazeir is on the edge of breaking the soldier's elbow.

"Hey! Wait, wait, wait! Let me think." He was silent for a moment, muttering something behind his pain. "I think was green! Yes! The feathers were green. That's the color!" his words were convoluted.

Nazeir held the man's head. He pleads not to kill, and Nazeir knocks him unconscious. The inquisitor hurried to get his things and put his saddlebag on the horse's back.

Nazeir clicked his tongue, and Toro started walking with the inquisitor on his back. The two of them left the cave and headed back on their journey north, even though it's still early in the morning.