Midas blankly stared into the small fire that remained, heating the cauldron that was filled halfway with a brewing soup. The fire provided him and Javelin some warmth - drying them, as they were forced to walk through the forest in the rain to get here. Uteli stayed in the back, squeezing out bits of water from her dampened hair—droplets gliding down her forearm as her fingers tightened around her strands.
The elderly woman that owned the old hut walked in slow strides, rotating in between taking care of the soup that bubbled slightly in the hanging cauldron while also taking care of the confused children that stayed back from Midas and Javelin. Resting on the old carpets, they tried their best to wring out any leftover water from the clothing.
The blood that stained Midas's blue poncho had sucked deep into the cloth—most likely staining it permanently in a darker, bluish black. Not shivering anymore thanks to the fire, Midas traced along the clinging vine stuck onto his flesh, plugging up the cut while also keeping his torn skin closed.
Midas felt a sense of intrigue at the green stone that was slotted into one of the lady's three rings—wondering where he would be able to get one if he ventured into the plant kingdom. Using growth like this to seal wounds might come in handy; there would be no need for him to worry about having bandages on him if he was free to use whatever vine he found growing on his way.
Uteli eventually found a quiet spot at one of the windows, staring down at Midas quietly as she started braiding her hair half-mindedly. Already done with her first braid, her empty gaze was eventually met by Midas, making her turn away to glance at the milky window. Javelin wasn't able to rest, still thinking about his sister—wanting to leave immediately once the rain had stopped.
Uteli eventually froze up, her hair a mixture of braids and loose strands of hair that fell off of her shoulders. The girl eventually stepped away from the unclear sight of seemingly another carriage halting in front of the orphanage—most likely belonging to the people she tried to get away from. The older lady eventually looked up from the kiln, immediately walking over to Uteli as she saw her scared expression.
Javelin exchanged a worried glance with Midas, the youth turning a bitter expression as he noticed how low his mana reserves had become—slightly more than half of it left, circulating in his body to be ready for any scenario that might play out. Having it cycle from his left to his right arm, Midas was able to not only maintain a better grasp of it when it comes to using it—actually building it up in the desired part of the body became much quicker as well.
Everyone froze at the slow but prompt knocking that came from the wooden door; the lady was forced to reluctantly answer it, taking the same knife from before, grasping it from the kitchen counter as she kept it to her back. Slowly opening up—the door was immediately opened by an armored man, who had already moved inside of the house before the lady was able to react to him forcing himself inside.
„We were told that one of the children we have ownership of had been stolen from us; the two culprits even injured two of our men… one of them is a young brown-haired boy wielding a sickle and a stone capable of bending earth."
Midas's eyes grew alarmed, his sickle on the rug beside him as he froze in front of the campfire—glancing over to the helmet-wearing knight as another forced himself inside to watch over the five other children grouped up in the corner. Both of them were drenched in water that poured down outside—the one announcing their reason for coming back quickly caught sight of Uteli in front of him.
„We only have space for her on the wagon… Do we kill the child that attacked the others?"
„Yes—be careful though… Who knows what they are planning?
Giving low-toned orders, the knight snatched Utelis's wrist promptly, forcing her outside—smacking her face immediately once he felt her resisting. Being punched in the face, the girl complied silently—her teeth flashed as she was forced outside with her hands crossed behind her back.
The second guard eventually turned away from the group of five children, taking his time to observe the lady and Javelin with a drawn sword. Midas watched without a tone, relying on the perfect timing on which all of the knights' attention was on him. Seeing a boy that perfectly matched the description and seeing a rusty sickle lying beside him, he forcefully tucked Midas's left arm to stand up.
Not having paid much attention to the elderly woman frozen beside him as he walked past her, Midas gave the woman clothed in green and grey cloth a glance as he was forced to walk in front of her. Seeing her signal, infuriated by the dismissive behavior of the guard not even acknowledging her presence, she forced the blade in between the knight's shoulder and chest plate.
Making the knight drop his sword, Midas now free left hand grasped the blade—wildly swinging it in a hopefully swift motion as he turned back to the man that forced him to go. The blade stuck in the knight's hip, and he tumbled back, screaming in pain at the pain he suddenly felt, unable to move one of his arms as he tumbled back.
Midas immediately shut the door once the guard found himself lying on his back inside the hut, muting his shouting as the youth managed to find a grip on the sword he had stuck under his chestplate. Seeing him put his hand up at him, Midas shoved the long blade into his throat—barely able to slot it in between the visor and the metal that wrapped around his entire torso.
Having bound up both of Uteli's hands together, he left her with the other child from the orphanage and the two guards hurt by Midas—one of them staring her down as she was forced to lie on her face in front of him, unable to reach her as he was unable to walk properly. Swearing he had heard the scream of his partner, the only knight capable of fighting slowly approached the shut door—his blade grasped tightly in his hands.
„What about the other one…?"
Javelin asked in a distressed whisper, glancing over to Midas as he turned away from the bleeding-out knight. The five younger children in front of them were mortified at the sight of a sword stuck into the throat of the knight—their attention quickly grasped by the lady as she took them into her arms. Midas scanned his limited options, most likely being outdone in hand-to-hand combat.
Eventually looking away from his rusty blade, handing it over to Javelin, Midas grasped one of the wooden bowls, hurrying to fill it up with some of the still brewing stew. Their backs pressed against the wall, they waited at the door for the knight to finally enter, holding a steaming soup in his hands. Midas glanced at the slowly opening door, hearing the cautious movements of the knight right beside him.
Seeing his head peek through after his extended blade had slowly made its way into the slimly opened door, Midas reached up with his left hand, throwing the filled-up bowl against the visor of the knight, making him shout at the hot liquid quickly running down his throat. Seeing him struggle to put his helmet on as he stepped back with an unsure grip on his sword, Javelin skipped out of the building, drawing his daggers from the holsters on his belt.
Avoiding a loose swing from the already tumbling knight, Javelin kicked him to the ground, aiming for his chestplate to make him fall onto his back. Knowing the weak spot on their throat, Javelin wasted no time finishing him off by ramming his daggers into the slim opening between helmet and chestplate. The hasty arm movements of the knight dimmed down, blinded by the hot stew on his face—unable to swing at the swift boy.
Slowly getting up from the armored man, Javelin took a few steps back in the direction of the hut—unsure whether ending his life really made him feel more secure or not as he stared down onto the blood that escaped from in between the metal that shielded him. Midas put his bandaged hand loosely on Javelin's shoulder, forcing him to wake up from his worrying thoughts as he watched Midas walk cautiously towards the ride.
Stopping in front of Uteli as she was unable to get a good look from whoever stood behind her—still forced to lie on her stomach as she struggled to free her hands from the tied rope around her wrists. Midas glanced over to another two children belonging to the orphanage—sitting on the other side, the knights from before met his sight. One of them was still unconscious, while the other flashed his teeth at him, having no blade in his hand.
Midas saw himself forced to dispose of them for good, using his sickle's curved blade to cut their throats as none of them were able to walk away. Dragging them off of the carriage, the youth stared blankly at a child with chestnut brown hair, their skin even more bleak under the grey sky. Cutting apart the rope that bound their hands together, Midas looked at Utelis's unsure stare—her scanning glance emerging from wild strands of hair.
Seeing her take the child with her, Midas placed himself onto the free bench of the carriage. The horned beast was strapped on the opposite side of the ride, the only thing that remained alive beside him. Quietly observing the Fahin for a moment, as it seemingly had no idea of what just played out behind its back, Midas was met with Javelin walking towards him.
"We just killed four water kingdom knights…"
"So? At least the others are safe."
"Do you not get what you just did? They will hunt us if they find out what happened here… Whoever made them do this will be searching for them here, probably taking all of these children themselves… We didn't change anything; we just delayed the problem…!"
Midas stared emptily forward, his expression tired from mindlessly watching knights be murdered. Perhaps the grave change from the situation now to where he would have found himself only a few days ago made it feel like he had already slain an entire army. It was more than evident that the water kingdom would take anything they could if they weren't met with any resistance—whether these men died or not made no difference.
"We leave when the rain stopped… At least we got this carriage here now. I will burn the bodies once the time has come—you just return inside…"
Midas slowly got up, tucking his bloodied sickle under his leather belt—getting up from his seat with a tired motion. Beginning to drag one of the two knights away into the open grass plain, Javelin followed him—picking up another with clenching teeth.
"How can you be so calm about this…?"
"You come from the desert as well; I have no idea how far you were born away from the northern desert, but I'm sure you know what it's like to be there…"
Midas spoke in a low tone, looking down at the loosely piled-up bodies—the both of them staring down onto them in the rain. Javelin began to shiver due to the cold—simply wanting to forget all of this as he didn't wait for Midas to get inside. The youth took a while as he looked back towards Javelin—despite having known him for a considerable while now, Midas still had no clue about his past, something he only now thought about.