Hyperion Evergrowing

Lucia waited until none of the sell-swords were around the campfire before she stepped into line, an empty bowl in one hand and the other resting against the hilt of her wooden sword. It took a handful of minutes to reach the two men who were cooking and serving the refugees.

“Ah, you must be the girl travelling with the masked adventurer.” One of them said, a ladle dipped into the half empty pot. “Is everything okay? You look nervous.”

“I’m fine.” She said, though the back of her neck prickled from being around so many strangers. She let out a breath and tried to smile as the man filled her bowl, though it likely came out as more of a grimace. “Thank you for the meal.”

“It’s just heated oats, nothing special.” The cook snorted. “But you’re most welcome. Tell your father he’s more than welcome to eat as well. God’s know we have more than enough of this gruel to go around.”

Lucia opened her mouth to correct the cook’s mistake, but before she could another voice called out to her. “Girl, come over here. Sit with us, dear.”

She glanced to the side to see a group of older to middle aged women and some of their children resting on dirty looking blankets and a handful of chairs that they had somehow procured, though from where, Lucia didn’t know. One of the kids, a girl around Lucia’s age, waved at her with a hand still holding a spoon. Lucia tightened her grip on her bowl and made to head in the other direction, only for the same woman who had invited her over to call once again.

“Go on, girl, you may as well sit with the other kids. You’ll be friends in no time, I’m sure of it.” The server said with a comforting smile.

Lucia felt exposed and vulnerable, and the instincts she had developed from her life on the street were warning her of danger whenever somebody shifted or raised their voice. But being around other people was good, it was normal. She was normal too, right? Lucia grit her teeth and made her way stiffly over to the group that had invited her. The girl who had waved with the spoon was being scolded by who Lucia assumed was her mother for flinging food around.

She sat on the very edge of the blanket, half poised to jump up and run at the slightest sign of danger. Lucia glanced over her shoulder to see if any of the mercenaries were nearby, but they seemed to have vacated the space around the fire to give more room for the refugees.

“Lucia.” She replied, trying to shove as much food into her mouth at once so she wouldn’t need to say anything more.

“Why do you have a weapon?” An older boy asked, a frown on his surprisingly clean features. “Girls don’t need weapons.”

“Yacob, that’s a rude question.” One of the older women said with a scowl.

“It’s true though. None of you have combat classes.” The boy said. “I’m going to be a [Fighter] one day soon. I’ll battle with monsters and protect people.”

“You don’t have a class yet?” Lucia asked as she finished chewing, though only because his question had irked her.

“Not yet, no. I’m still working on it.” Yacob said defensively. “Why, it’s not like you have one either. You’re too young.”

“I have one.” Lucia said testily, then she took another mouthful of oats to try and ignore the incredulous looks everyone was sending her way.

“But you’re so young.” A concerned looking woman said. “You shouldn’t be working at such a young age, you need time to play and be a child.”

“Is it a combat class?” Thani asked excitedly, gesturing again with her spoon. “I bet it is! Did the masked man teach you? Are you in training to be an adventurer? Have you fought monsters? Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Thani!” The girl’s mother hissed, pinching her daughter’s ear. “Don’t ask someone that, it’s inappropriate. And of course she hasn’t, don’t be ridiculous.”

Lucia made no effort to speak up, even when she was asked more questions. Instead she focused on her half eaten meal, for some reason she no longer felt hungry. It felt like there were a hundred worms wriggling around in her stomach, and she took a deep breath to try and fight them down.

An older couple approached, and people shifted to get out of their way. They were both somewhat overweight, with greyed hair and more than a handful of wrinkles between them. The man slumped down into an unoccupied seat that seemed to have been left specifically for him, and the woman gingerly knelt onto the blanket, her smile warm but tired. “I hope everyone is doing alright.” She asked. “No empty bellies I hope.”

“Of course not.” The older man rumbled. “Not with how much food we packed for the trip. We could have twice the numbers and not get through half of it. If it wasn’t for this damn war we never would have needed to flee east. What’s the army doing anyway? What are we paying taxes for if not to be defended from a bunch of bloodthirsty savages?”

“Forgive my husband. He’s tired, just like everyone else.” The woman said, touching the man on the knee to forestall a further rant. She smiled and looked at everyone one by one, finally reaching Lucia. “Oh my, look at you! So grimy and dirty. And are those pants? They’re all torn up! Young lady, you need to take better care of yourself.”

Lucia just stared blankly over her bowl, not sure how to respond. The elderly woman tutted and scooted closer, half muttering to herself, half talking to Lucia. “And you’re so skinny, you need to eat more if you want to stay healthy. Is that a hole in your shirt? How did that happen? It looks like something cut right through the fabric. Dear, this won’t do, it won’t do at all.”

A violet and azure cloth appeared in the woman’s hand, and she reached up towards Lucia’s face. She flinched back, shuffling off the blanket and rising to her feet. “Don’t.” She said, her voice low. “Don’t touch me.”

“You have dirt on your cheek. Come back here and I’ll wipe it off for you.”

Lucia swiped at her cheek with her forearm, earning a disapproving scowl from the older woman.

“She said she has a class.” Yacob said. “But she’s clearly lying. Tell her that lying is bad, grandmother.”

“I’m not lying. But I don’t need to prove it to you.” Lucia growled, taking a step back.

The boy stuck out his tongue. “You should give that sword to someone who knows how to use it.”

“Yacob, that’s enough.” His grandmother said. “You’re frightening the poor girl away. Sit back down, dear, finish your dinner and we’ll find some clothes that don’t make you look like a scruffy farmer's son.”

Lucia felt her face grow hot, but half wreathed in shadows from the dancing bonfire she hoped nobody could see. How would they think if they knew who exactly had trained and clothed her? She didn’t look like a farmer, these were the same type of clothes Hera wore when she was out of her uniform, she looked like a Blade of the Academy, they were just too stupid to see it. Lucia darted forward and grabbed her bowl off the ground, then, before anyone could say anything else she ran off, using [Fade] to vanish into the darkness of the fort.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and the squirming in her stomach didn’t subside. She ran, half blind, but still sure footed deeper into the fort, and scrambled up a pile of rubble to rest against the base of a half crumbled wall. In the distance she could still see the refugees, and could still hear the low murmur of their distant conversations. Who were they to take pity on her? To doubt what she could do? They didn’t know what she had lived through, the things she had needed to do to survive.

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‘Have you killed anyone?’

The question rang again in her ears, and Lucia scrunched her eyes closed and shook her head to chase it away. It was dumb, the question was dumb, and they wouldn’t have believed her if she had answered honestly. Or maybe they would have. How would the way they had looked at her changed? Would they stop thinking of her as some sort of helpless child? Why were they even treating her like that? Did they think she was like them? Soft, weak and unable to fend for herself?

She pulled her sword and its sheath off her belt and placed it in her lap, trying to make the anger and frustration go away. The night was warm, and the heat in her head wasn’t helping her think straight. She sat in the dark and stewed, glaring down at the refugees. She watched as they laughed and sang around the fire, watched as the children she had eaten with jumped around and played. The anger faded, but it wasn’t replaced by anything. Lucia felt numb, and the longer she watched, by herself, the more numb she felt.

Lucia knew she was desperately ignoring a truth, hoping that by not acknowledging it, it would go away. But as the laughter reached her ears she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She had never had a childhood. She had never laughed or played with those her age, never knew what it was like to have friends. She didn’t know what it was like to be a kid. Her earliest memories were of being told about her duties and responsibilities as the daughter of the prince. Then waiting for her little brother to be born, and helping to take care of him when he was.

When Pherin was destroyed and her family fled south, there was no fun, no time for her to act her age. She had played with Roy, sure, but that was to make him happy, to distract him from the sounds of adults arguing and screaming in the adjacent rooms. Then they had lost everything once again, and to survive she had needed to grow up faster than the streets of Kartinth could kill her. She had never had a chance to act her age, and it was likely she never would. But at the time she hadn’t minded, because she had been able to distract herself with something else. But that something wasn’t there anymore.

Lucia suddenly felt very cold, and very alone. The fear and worry for her little brother she had managed to bottle up slipped through the crack in the wall that she had carefully built up in her mind, and everything started to spiral. Her breaths came faster, and her hands trembled. She grabbed the hilt of her sword and squeezed, trying to chase away the panic with the safety and strength having the weapon made her feel. It helped a little, but not much.

Lucia hated how weak she felt, how vulnerable and afraid she was. Why had it been so easy to pretend otherwise when she had to look after Roy? Why was it that when she only had herself to take care of everything was so much harder? Why did the idea of spending time around a campfire with strangers terrify her? Why did the air feel suffocating, and every tiny noise make her blood run cold? It didn’t make any sense, she had a class now, skills, a weapon that had been made just for her. Lucia trembled, fighting back tears, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t alone, that she was more than a frightened little girl. But the wound had been ripped open, and there was nothing to distract her from the pain, and nothing to stop the bleeding.

She was alone. Alone, unable to protect Roy. Alone, unable to protect herself. Alone, lost and afraid.

Alone.

She fought down a sob as the weight of the world closed in, crushing her, stabbing her, tearing her apart-

“Hey, what's wrong? Lucia? Lucia, you’re okay, it's alright.”

Something touched her shoulder and Lucia flinched. Blinking away the blur ruining her vision she stared up at the figure kneeling beside her. She tried to squirm away but the hand on her shoulder was too strong, or maybe she was too weak. Who was next to her? What did they want? Were they going to hurt her? Were they going to hurt Roy? A hundred memories, a hundred fears, they all flashed through her mind all at once. If they hadn’t paralysed her she would have screamed, but instead the sound that emerged from her mouth was more of a choked gasp.

The hand on her shoulder tightened its grip, and then something warm and energising filled her chest, warding off the cold and the panic. She blinked again, her mind clearing. “You’re okay, it’s alright. I’m here, you’re safe.” Leif said, his tone concerned, twin amber lights glowing behind his mask.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“For what? You don’t need to apologise for anything.”

“I’m weak. He’s not here, and I don’t know what to do. I’m so weak,” She babbled, barely coherent.

“Nonsense. You’re far stronger than you realise.”

Lucia couldn’t muster any more words, so she just shook her head. Over the next few minutes her breathing normalised and her thoughts stilled. When Leif tried to get up she grabbed onto his sleeve, but she didn’t know why. He didn’t say anything else, but he did sit down next to her, his presence somehow more solid than the wall of the old stone fort. He wasn’t human, not really. Lucia didn’t understand who, or what he was, and in a way that scared her. The fact he had been able to save Roy’s life when she hadn’t been capable enough scared her. The fact it was so easy to imagine somebody else, that somebody more familiar was under the mask, scared her.

But it wasn’t scarier than being alone.

So she silently cried into his arm until she fell asleep. Like a child, but maybe that was okay.

===

Those within the fort were roused awake by a distant roar that caused flocks of roosting birds to flee skywards, their panicked cries splitting the dawn air as they fled for safety. Afraid and tired refugees stumbled around, trying to gather their belongings and families before whatever the danger was caught up with them. Kurt barked orders for calm, but his words went ignored when an older man with thinning grey hair and a slight paunch started yelling for haste.

Leif had pegged the older man as a leader among the refugees, who he had come to learn were something of a loose family unit. He had only exchanged brief greetings with a handful of them, and while they had been mostly friendly, if weary, their elderly leader was belligerent and terse.

A bleary eyed Lucia climbed up to where he was standing atop a mostly intact section of wall. She handed him the travelling cloak that he had gently wrapped around her shoulders after she had fallen asleep, and he quickly stowed it in his storage ring, his gaze never leaving the treeline.

“Good morning.” Leif said. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m okay. Sorry…” Lucia said.

“You don’t need to apologise. You did nothing wrong.”

“Do you know what it is?” She asked after a moment, glancing over her shoulder at the still panicked refugees.

“I’m not sure, but it’s still a ways off. Look, you can see the tree’s shaking about a kilometre over there.” He said, pointing to demonstrate.

“Is it coming closer?”

“Yes, but slowly. I doubt it even knows that we’re here. Whatever it is, it's likely just wandering the bog at random.”

Below them a group of refugees had climbed out of the fort and were running down the hill as fast as they could. A woman, overburdened with supplies, dropped her belongings as she ran, and when she stooped down to collect them a panicked couple almost trampled over them.

“You’ve led us into danger! You’re a damn fool, I should never had hired a group outside of the guilds. You could have gotten us all killed!” The older man was shouting, his face red and his finger wagging angrily in Kurt’s unimpressed face. “If any of us get so much as a scratch because of you, you can say goodbye to your payment.”

“Sir.” Kurt said, the demikin’s words oozing with forced patience. “I can assure you that the monster in the forest has no interest in us. I know its species, and they rarely, if ever, leave the denser tree cover.”

“You know? You know! If you knew then you never should have brought us so close to the trees!” The man bellowed while his equally aged wife bustled around trying to pack up everything by herself.

One by one the surprising number of luxuries that had been strewn about during the chaos disappeared as the woman lifted them. She had a gem encrusted polished silver bracelet hanging loosely around her wrist, and it didn’t take a genius to identify it as a storage item.

“Are we really going to travel with these people?” Lucia asked, and Leif could tell by her tone that she was less than keen on the idea.

“With them? No. Alongside them, I don’t see why not. They're heading to Luriem, and unless we want to brave cutting through the woodland, the city should be our destination as well.”

A distant roar punctuated his words, and Lucia wrinkled her nose. “We would be safer without them. Quicker too.”

“Maybe. But if we’re heading in the same direction the company won’t hurt.” Leif said, stepping forward to blur back down to the ground in a streak of gold.

“It might.” She grumbled, hopping down after him and following like a short, brooding shadow. The refugees had filtered out of the fort, but their group was stretched over a hundred metres, and the mercenaries were running around as if trying to shepherd a flock of terrified sheep.

Kurt had one eye on the forest, and one eye on the old man who was still angrily berating him. The demikin had a look on his face that made it clear he wanted to punch someone, but didn’t have any valid targets to take his mounting frustrations out on. Maline sauntered up to him, and her sharp smile seemed to unnerve the elderly refugee enough that his rage spluttered out like a dying candle.

The forest shook, loose pebbles tumbling down the hillside as if chasing the refugees. Leif stopped and waited for the leader of the Greyband mercenaries to catch up to him, much to the annoyance of Lucia who was not so subtly trying to tug him along, though to little success.

“I overheard that you know what the thing making all that noise is?” Leif asked leadingly.

“Aye, an old bastard named Neil.” Kurt replied with a sigh. “Oh, you mean the monster in the forest? It’s a big fucking monkey. Uh, sorry for the crass language. Not overly dangerous since they’re easy to hear coming.”

“Do you know its level?”

“Probably around forty. When they evolve they grow too big for the inner parts of the forest, so they migrate outwards, and then they get butchered by adventurers or hunters. This one probably just evolved, which is why it’s making such a big fuss about no longer having a home.”

“Poor little baby.” Maline said in a lilting tone. “Kicked out of the nest. I’d be upset too.”

“If it fully leaves the cover of the forest I’ll eat my own shoes.” Kurt said. “But I’m just a stupid, dumb mercenary who has no idea what he’s doing.”

“Hush dear.” Maline giggled. “Now, shall we catch up to our charges before they run themselves off a cliff in their panic?”

The two departed, Kurt jogging and Maline using some sort of skill to quickly dart ahead of him. “I really don’t like them.” Lucia whispered. “I really, really don’t like them.”

Leif turned and knelt, looking her in the eye. Lucia squirmed uncomfortably the longer they held eye contact, and he could sense the trepidation within her, the growing uncertainty and fear. Her weak but uncontrolled aura was practically shouting her intention to turn and run in the other direction, without an associated skill she wouldn’t be able to manipulate her soul’s growing presence.

“You don’t want us to travel with them?”

She nodded sharply.

“You’re certain?”

“I… It’s just a hunch, a gut feeling. It feels like a part of my mind is shouting at me not to trust them, not to get too close.” She mumbled, looking away and kicking at the grass. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid, I don’t know them, so-”

“No. I trust you.”

“Huh?”

“We’ll let them go ahead, and we’ll camp separately. Once we reach Luriem we’ll stay away, get the supplies we need, then leave as soon as possible. Does that sound like a plan?”

Lucia swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah... Thank you.”

“Wonderful.” Leif said, standing and placing his hands on his hips. “How about we go take a look at a big monkey?”

“Really?” She asked, immediately perking up. “Can I fight it?”

“You did hear Kurt say that it would be over level forty, right?” Leif chided.

“Yeah…” She said, puffing out her cheeks and pouting. He placed a hand on her head, ruffling her already messy hair, earning an annoyed groan, an eye roll, and an ineffectual kick to the shin for his troubles. Then, once the refugees and sellswords were completely out of sight, they headed in the opposite direction.

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