Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 5:

Something changed after that stormy night. Van was not sure how it had happened, but something was wrong. Hitomi had been avoiding him like the plague and the old witch would give him these strange looks, like she was trying to see into his mind. The rest of the caravan was not so bad, but the odd behavior of their caravan mother and her granddaughter made them nervous.
It was time for him to go.
One night, when the rest of the camp was asleep, he simply wandered away with his pack on his back and Magoman around his neck. He knew Hitomi would understand the little theft. Besides, he had left her his hunting knife in trade, which was worth far more than a little stick man-at least if you were not plagued with nightmares. He took the road to the nearest town, a bit
larger than Fanelia with several two story houses, and sat guard for the night on the town\'s temple steps.
He surprised a temple priest, who came out to ring the morning bell. The older man looked at him curiously, then up at the sun, and then back to him.
“You are up a little early, aren\'t you, my Son?” he said pleasantly,
“Why don\'t you help me ring the morning bell? My back is rather sore this morning.”
Van just nodded and silently followed the man. He was led to the back of the triangular temple, and through a beautiful garden filled with red and white flowers of many different varieties. He brushed his fingers along the delicate blossoms as he passed, feeling their softness and frailty.
“I do not believe I have ever seen you here before, b rec recognize that talisman you wear. Bad dreams? Have you come to find absolution for your soul then?” the priest asked, stopping every so often to smell certain flowers.
Van fidgeted uncomfortably and shook his head.
“No, I merely came to find a place to rest. I do not even know who the patron of this temple is,” the young hunter explained.
“Ah,’ the priest said, nodding his bushy white head, ‘you did seem rather young to need absolution. Maybe another time then. As for our patron, it is the Goddess Pherowae, supreme ruler of the Divine Council.”
“The Queen of the Gods? That would explain the red and white flowers,” Van said offhandedly.
They reached the center of the garden where a large tower, almost three stories high and twenty paces around with a large golden bell at the top, glinting in the rising sun. The priest let him inside where he proceeded to pull the rope, until the bell rang ten times-the divine number.
The priest, who called himself Father Yactus, invited him to breakfast and Van was in no hurry to start traveling again. Folken might be after him, but he was not going to help himself if he starved or was exhausted. So he spent the morning at the temple with Father Yactus, who went on at great length about the Queen Goddess and the Order of Providence, his own worshipping denomination of Pherowae. The boy got the distinct impression that he was trying to be converted, which he found rather amusing.
“So what is your stand on demons, Father?” Van asked, when they had reached the subject of sinners and redemptions.
The elderly priest gave him an odd look, and paused, much to the temple animals’ annoyance. After breakfast, they had begun the temple chores which included feeding the domesticated creatures who helped provide for the temple’s needs. He was not sure how he got roped into doing it, but he saw no reason to complain.
“I’m not sure what you mean, my son,” he finally said, and returned to feeding the vurka- a deer-like creature only smaller, and with large utters.
“Are they evil incarnate and should they be destroyed? Or are they a necessary evil? Not evil at all? I have heard so many ideas about them from my father. I was wondering what Pherowae thinks of them,” he said, tossing some seed to a cluster of round speckled birds.
“Ah… well, the stand my denomination takes is they are not necessarily evil. Like humans, there are evil and good ones. However, there role to humanity is that of destruction. As is our role to them. We sort of balance each other out,’ the priest explained, then frowned, ‘No, that isn’t quite right. I’m not explaining this very well. Hm… I’m not a demonologist, I couldn’t explain the intricacies of it all, but lets just say the world we currently live in needs this human and demon conflict. Do you understand?”
Van shook his head no.
The priest chuckled and tossed out some more feed.
“That’s alright, it’ll give you something to think about. Oh my, look at the time. We’ve been talking all morning about gods and demons and such, and I still don’t know a thing about you. How rude of me. So tell me young man, where do you come from?”
“Fanelia, a little town along the border of the Silver Forest,” he said, offhandedly.
“Ah, so that’s why you asked about demons. Having any trouble with them?”
The dark child frowned slightly.
“A little.”
“I’m so sorry. Have you come to find a demon hunter, then? If you have, I know some excellent men in Palas I could refer to you,” he offered.
“No, no, it’s nothing that serious. I-” Van paused, seemingly shocked.
“Are you alright, child?”
A look of ecstatic joy seemed to cross the his face and the priest wondered if perhaps he was witnessing a spiritual epiphany. Then the boy laugh and gripped his hand, making him drop his bucket of feed, and shook it vigorously.
“Thank you! Thank you, so much,” he said, and then sprang away, startling the animals as he went.
The older man watched him go, more than a little perplexed.
Meanwhile, Van quickly gathered up his things from where he had left them at the temple door and offered a hasty prayer of thanks to the statue of Pherowae on his way out. He sprinted the rest of the way out of town, carried by the energy of new found resolve. He had a path now that he could follow. The very beginnings of a plan and of a future for himself. He knew now what he would have to do to become strong, and it led him down a path that would bring honor to his father and pride to his mother.
He was going to become a demon hunter.

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Van had no worries about running into the gypsies as he jogged down the road, despite his morning stay at the temple. One of the draw backs of group travel was how much slower you went. No, he was not worried about them, but the persistent flock of scraw were more than a little disconcerting. They had not been at the temple, having probably lost him during the night, but
they were quick to find him once he returned to the road.
He would not fret over them though. They were merely spies, and as long as he found shelter before the sunset he need not fear. At least he hoped not. He was not certain why Folken only appeared at night. Demons were not spirits, they would not loose their power with the rising of the sun. What ever the reason, he was not going to complain. It made his escape so much easier.
The dark child looked up at the sun. It would be only a few more hours till sunset and he was still more than half a days travel to Palas. He did not want to stop though. The more stops he made the more likely Folken would catch up to him. The Pherowaen temple had been safe, but who was to say that the next town even have a temple?
Quickly thinking up a plan, he took the road to the nearest town-actually a small city, boasting four temples and more stores and taverns than Van ever thought practical. He spent the remainder of the day there, observing how the people dressed and spoke, hoping he would not seem a total bumpkin by the time he reached the capital city. The scraw of course followed him, and he was rather amused when they began scuffling with city phrats, the white cooing birds more than a little annoyed to have the interlopers competing for scraps and crumbs with them.
He helped a fruit merchant load up his cart in exchange for a large melon-type fruit, and then found a little spot under the bridge. There were some other vagabonds there, and he split the large fruit amongst them and they were happy to share a fire with him. The young traveler was beginning to see a pattern-bring food, and hungry people like you. This was lesson that would be helpful throughout his life.
When the sun was long gone, however, he thanked them for their fire and climbed from the little shelter. He scanned the sky and the trees, but the ebony birds had left for the evening. This was where they had last seen him, this was where they would report him being. He smirked to himself and jogged back to the main road.
He spent the rest of the night running towards Palas, stopping only a few times to catch his breath and collect some water from a nearby stream. In the morning, he caught a ride with a hay merchant and slept in the back of the wagon on a bed of straw the remainder of the way to Palas.
When the cart finally halted at the gates, Van was jarred awake. He yawned and stretched. Much to his annoyance, he found the scraw had returned and were looking miffed at him. He gave the mangy birds an arrogant smirk.
“Well, what do we have here?” a deep voice asked.
The young hunter turned his attention to the two soldiers investigating the cart. They were young men, still a bit older than him and much bigger. They were decked in silver chain mail with blue and white tunics with a simple helmets tucked under their arms. More importantly, they were eyeing his father’s sword suspiciously.
Van immediately knew they could be trouble and dismounted from the wagon, showing them exactly how much smaller he was compared to them. They seemed to relax a little bit, but were not completely convinced.
“May I help you, sirs?” he asked, keeping his eyes purposely down cast, as he was prone to do when talking to his father.
“You are not allowed inside with those,’ a dark haired guard said, pointing at his sword and bow, ‘It’s against city ordinances.”
Quickly, the young man shifted through as many possible reasons why they might allow him to carry them. I am being hunted by a demon? No. They are my father’s? So what? I need them for my training as a demon hunter? Hm... perhaps if he twisted that a little.
“But, sir,’ he began, looking up at them pleadingly, ‘I’m here to join the army. Don’t I need them?”
The two guards looked taken back for a moment, and then looked to one another as if to ask ‘should we?’. The blonde guard looked him over, as if trying to find fault.
“You’re kind of young aren’t you?”
Think fast, Van, think fast.
“My father is in the army, and he has recommended to some of his superiors that I enter as a scout or an archer. I am fair with a bow,” he said.
The blonde sneered. Apparently, his opinion of archers was not very high.
“And the sword? What does an archer need with a sword?”
“I won’t be a mere archer or scout forever. Besides, it’s my family sword. I take it where ever I go.”
The blonde looked ready to question him some more, but was interrupted by an impatient merchant waiting in line behind them.
“Come on! Let him in! Some of us actually have to be somewhere!” yelled a handsome gentleman, dressed in white and tan robes.
“Oh shut up!’ snapped the guards, and then turned back to the boy, ‘Alright, just keep them as discreet as possible. If you get in trouble with those, it will be our heads.”
Van nodded eagerly and scampered inside the city gates before they could change their minds. Once inside, he thanked the hay merchant for the ride and found a bench to sit on and rest. He looked around with wide eyes the capital city of Palas.
It was enormous! Bigger and grander than the city with the four temples by far. From the gates of the city at the bottom of a great hillside, he could make out the vast metropolis, spreading as far as the eye could see in either direction. Immense white buildings, with blue dome roofs and giant arches and columns, sprang up hap hazardously in a random maze of streets and alleys. Statues, fountains, gold plated gates, and balconies of every shape and size decorated the white stone apartments, some over ten stories high. And at the very top of hill lay the imperial palace, her golden domes and gates sparkling in the sunlight and giving glory to all its magnificence.
“Careful, young man, your eyes are going to pop out of you head if you staring like that,” came a playful voice.
Van turned his gaze to the merchant who had helped him gesideside the city. He rode on top of an unimpressive covered wagon, pulled by two red Breccian gour. He was handsome in a roguish sort of way, with his three day beard, playful blue eyes hidden behind tinted glasses, and shoulder length dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He was also very rich, despite the relative modesty of his clothes. Staring at him, he was not certain if he should be offended by his comment or not.
The merchant sent him a lopsided grin.
“I really hope you weren’t serious about that joining the army thing, because if you weren’t than I would highly suggest a career in sales,” the man said, teasingly.
Van smirked.
“Thanks for your help.”
The merchant gave him a dismissive gesture and shrugged.
“It was nothing. Besides, I was curious about your sword.”
The boy gave him an odd look, and the man chuckled.
“I am a sword merchant, it struck a professional interest. I have rarely
seen swords of that design. I was wondering if I might examine it?”
The young traveler looked wary for a moment, looking around and finding there were several people wandering about, he shrugged and climbed up on to the wagon next to him. He handed the elongated sword to him and watched as the merchant studied it with exaggeratere. re.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice slightly awed as he drew blade from its sheath.
“It was my father’s. He was a demon hunter, and this was his weapon of choice. Technically, it is meant for dragon slaying, but it has some useful aspects for fighting demons,” Van explained.
“Ah, yes, that explains the elongated blade. And the crest?”
“My family coat of arms. Guilavene. They were dragon slayers for almost sixteen generations before the dragons became rarAfteAfter that, our family turned to demon hunting.”
“What an adventurous family you have,” the merchant said, resheathing the blade and reluctantly handing it back to the boy.
Van regarded him curiously.
“You are not going to try buy it from me?” he said, mimicking his lopsided smile.
“After more than sixteen generations, I don’t think you’re about ready to break tradition by selling it. No matter how much I offered for it,” the merchant chuckled.
“You are right. You must be very good at your trade.”
“You flatter me. So, what are you doing here in Palas all by yourself?”
The boy shrugged and returned his sword to his back.
“I am here to become a demon hunter,” he stated.
The merchant laughed. Van frowned at him.
“What is so funny about that?”
“N-nothing,’ the merchant said between chuckles, ‘except it’s rather cliché. Hundreds of young men come to Palas every year for something like that. They all want to be demon hunters or royal guardsmen, but you know what? They all become foot soldiers in her Majesty’s army. They’re all dreamers, who never realize what exactly they’ve gotten themselves into and so they give up. I suppose it is really the bards and writers we should blame, with all the nonsense they spout about it. Listen, kid, my advise to you is to go home or be a merchant or something-”
The man stopped his banter as he caught the look in toungoung man’s eyes. They were dark and angry, staring unseeing at his clenching hands.
“I don’t have a home,’ he growled, darkly, ‘Not anymore.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, with the sword merchant watching the youth slowly calmselfself.
“I’m sorry, I did not realize this was serious to you,” the man said softly.
The dark-haired traveler shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. By the way, I’m Van,” he said, immediately changing the mood.
The roguish merchant smiled and shook his hand.
“I’m Dryden. Nice to meet you. Is there anywhere I can take you?”
“I don’t know. Where does one go to sign up for training as a demon hunter?”
“Eee… you are out of luck, I’m afraid. They’re not taking anymore applicants this season. You’ll have to wait until they hold trials in the fall,” Dryden said, giving him a sympathetic look.
“Two month?! I can’t wait that long! I’ll starve!”
Or get abducted by a demon. Either one.
“Now, now, don’t panic. I’m sure you can get a job till then. You must have some skills,” the man assured him.
He was not quite sure why, but he liked the younger man. The boy had a very honest way about him, and he was so adorably determined. Dryden watched the youth calm himself and relax into his seat.
“I guess so, but I wouldn’t know where to begin to look. I don’t have any money,” he said despondently.
“Hm... you could always be a prostitute,” Dryden suggested.
“What?!”
“You’ve got a rather pretty face, and you are nicely formeI beI bet you could make quite a bit of money. Hell, if you were blonde I’d nail you in a heartbeat,” he said cheerily.
The look the boy sent him was priceless.
“I think I better go now,” the boy said cautiously, looking for safe place to jump to.
“I was just kidding! It was a joke!’ he quickly assured him, ‘If you want to make some quick cash, there is a tournament tomorrow afternoon at the amphitheater. It’s mostly small fry, rich brats and the like who think they’re good with a sword. A demon hunter’s son might do well.”
The boy looked thoughtful as he considered it and then grinned.
“I think I will. Thanks again!” he said and jumped off the cart, landing gracefully on the cobblestone street and bounding off.
Dryden watched the fragile-looking creature as he went.
“Good luck, Van. You’ll need it.”

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Van spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the town and looking for the amphitheater. It was easier to find than he had thought it would be. Apparently, most of the buildings were apartments and houses surrounding the outer circle of the city, while the business and entertainment areas were towards the center, where he had been let off.
The amphitheater was gigantic circular building over six stories high, and an hour’s walk around. The entire structure consisted of enormous columns with statues of gods and heroes carved into them. The high arching entry ways lined outer wall, and became steadily fewer the closer you got to the center. Inside, an earthen ring lay in the very center, a chest high ditch pit encircling it. On the southern and northern sides of the building were eighty-five rows of stone benches, and fourteen special sections with cushioned seats for the far richer spectators. On the eastern and western side, however, there were large gaps through which you could see the rising
the setting sun.
Van wandered through the amphitheater, the lower levels at least and tried to imagine what it must look like when it was full. How many people would be here tomorrow and what would they be expecting? Doubt and a little nausea rose within him, and he smashed it down before it got the better of him. He could not worry about that. He needed money until he could get a job, so that he could eat and hopefully find safe lodging. He mentally sighed. There was so many things to consider and worry about now. Was this what being an adult was all about? Well, they could have it.
A light breeze from the North brought the scent of the salt water with it. Van was reminded of his desire to see that ocean and feel the water against his skin. He smiled softly, feeling his soul eased by that salty fragrance.

The familiar sound of steel against steel caught his attention, and he looked towards the ring. There two men were locked in combat. One broad, and dark in a red and black uniform with sturdy brown leather arm and leg cuffs, his large broad sword bearing down heavily on his opponent. The other man dressed similarly in blue and black, was pale and lithe, his long golden
braid snapping to and fro as he danced around his slower opponent, dodging all of his blows easily.
Van watched them silently, admiring their movements and the eerie way their elongated shadows followed like a pair of separate duelists. They fought for a long time before, until finally, the darker man exhausted himself and stumbled. They exchanged some words he could not hear, laughed, and then the smaller man helped his dueling partner to his feet. They seemed about ready to leave, when suddenly they turned and looked straight at him.

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“Shit, where the hells did he come from?” Gs sas said, surprised to see the boy standing there.
He stood on the Western end of the arena with the sun behind. His golden skin and red vest had helped toe hie him against the descending ball of fire. It was not until they had turn to leave, did he notice a shadow behind them move as well.
“He must have been there the whole time. I wonder what he is doing here,” Allen said, also taking in the young man’s slender silhouette.
After a moment, the boy seemed loose interest in them and moved from the benches and towards the exit, his form more clear now without the sun behind him.
“He has a sword,” his friend pointed out, just before the boy disappeared.
“And a bow,” the blonde noted.
“And a rucksack.”
“And farmer’s clothes.”
“Really? I thought they looked more like a woodsman’s. His shirt was red.”
“Mm. You are probably right. So what is a woodsman doing here?”
“Sight seeing?” Gaddes suggested.
“Perhaps we should just ask him. He did not seem in a hurry to leave.”
“I have nothing better to do.”
They followed the boy into the inner sanctum of the amphitheater, listening to the soft echoes of his light footsteps. It became very dark as they tracked him to the lower floors and into the shower rooms at the basement level. The sound of running water and a cry of shock caught their attention. The carefully entered.
The boy had lit two torches and was using them to see by as he showered. At the moment he did not look too pleased, and was looking for a way to adjust the nozzles as the icy water ran down his naked body. He turned to face them when they entered, his eyes narrowing slightly and his hand inching towards his sword, resting on the decorative stone shelf and just an arms reach from the spray of water.
“Can I help you?” he asked coldly.
He did not know about city folk, but in Fanelia, people really did not like being confronted while completely naked. The two had the decency to looked mildly embarrassed, though he did not think the blonde man blushed quite enough.
“Ah, we are sorry,’ the blonde apologized, ‘We were just wondering why you were down here. And why are you using the showers?”
“Because I have been on the road for two weeks without bathing or even a clean change of clothes. Now, if you’re not going bath would you be so kind as to please leave. It’s very disconcerting to shower with people gawking at you,” he said tersely.
“Very well,” the blonde said, snagging his friend’s arm as he was about to make his exit.
The larger man watched, vaguely confused, as Allen began to strip off his uniform. Finally, getting the hint he began to strip as well. He supposed they ougo sho shower, they were sweaty from fighting after all.
The boy looked vaguely irritated that they were intending to stay, but ignored them in favor of getting clean. The public bathhouse in his hometown was not as nice as this, but at least the plumbing was similar. He managed to adjust the water to just the right temperature and began to lather his soap. He rubbed it into his body vigorously, working away two weeks of grit
and grim until his skin shone red from the friction.
To his right, the two swordsman washed at a more leisurely pace, the blonde not even bothering to undo his braid. He glanced at them cautiously every so often, but they kept their eyes politely focused on the wall.
“So why are you at the Palas Royal Amphitheater? These showers are reserved for performers and tournament contestants,” the blonde said without accusation.
“I am competing tomorrow\'s tournament,” the young man stated, before scrubbing face tenaciously with his soarimarimacing slightly.
Allen and Gaddes both turned to look at him in disbelief. He was young, skinny, and … short. He did have rather nice muscle tone, similar to Allen’s, but he was just so … so short! The both of them stood almost a foot taller. They shared a look between themselves and decided not to comment. It was not their place to say he could not try.
After the strange child had finished with his hair, he turned off the water gathered his clothes. He stuffed his son thn the drain of the sink and proceeded to flood it.
“What are you doing?” Gaddes asked, watching him with the most confused expression.
“Washing my clothes,” he replied.
Allen made a mental note to never use that sink again.
“Why?” the blonde asked.
“Same reason I took a shower. They’re dirty and they smell like it.”
The kid was getting irritated and they decided not to comment anymore. It was obvious he was poor, likely a woodsman as Gaddes had suggested. He likely did not care how his clothes got clean so long as they got clean. That he cared about his hygiene at all was rather commendable.
When they were clean and dressed in the more casual clothing they wore beneath their uniforms, they saw the naked boy had set up a line for his clothes to dry on, with one of the torches laying beneath them to speed the process along. They watched him curiously for a minute, before heading back out.
“Good luck at the tournament tomorrow. I look forward to meeting you in the arena,” the tall blonde called as they left.
Van looked up at that comment. That was going to be one of his opponents? He frowned. He had seen them both spar, and the pale fighter would be a definite problem in the ring. Was this what Dryden had meant about it being easy? Was he himself really that unskilled that spoiled rich kids seemed so much more capable?
Slowly, he stood and closed the shower room door behind them, locking it. He was not worried about Folken finding herehere. The amphitheater was huge and easy to get lost in, and he doubted the demon would waste his time trying. Still, he had to be cautious.
He leaned against the door, with his sword in hand, staring at the family crest. After a while he felt a little better. Looking at that dragon pierced on the blade, he was reminded of his proud heritage. He was the descendant of dragon slayers! A few measly mortals in a ring was nothing to fear!
Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes and prepared his body for battles he would soon face.