Four Horsemen: Chapter 4 Part 2 of 4 (Patreon)

“Could try climbing the mountain?” Petor asked.

“Dunno what’s up it,” Valter said.

“When the enemy breach the walls we could sneak out in the chaos?”

“That could work,” Desari said.

“We just going to leave the town to this fate.”

“How you know that they didn’t ask for it?” Mya raised a hand and shrugged.

“How do we know they don’t deserve this?”

“Navigation equipment, a bottle with a ship in it, looks like the waves are actually moving. Kind of cool, great detail. Bones from different kinds of animals. Fishing gear, then got a whole bunch of trade goods, spices, tools, pieces of art and sculptures and this token,” She pulled out a black coin with ivory on one side showing scales, the other showing a golden pile of coins. She flipped it caught it and put it away. “Though I don’t have any food or water, but I don’t feel hungry. Oh and I have flintlocks, cannister pistols and a rifle as well as reloads for all of it. And cook books.”

She pulled out one and opened it, her eyes widening.

“Maybe not a cook book.” She studied it closer.

“Care to elaborate?” Petor asked.

“It has all kinds of information on necromancy, potions, rituals, spells and the like.” She flipped through the pages carefully.

Desari looked up. “You’re a necromancer.”

“I guess,” Mya shrugged and flipped through a cook book titled ‘basic cooking techniques and knowing your ingredients’.

“Guess it is a good idea to hide it in a cook book that openly advertise it,” Petor turned to Valter. Desari went back to reading her book. She didn’t sense any maliciousness from Mya and she had enough problems to deal with.

“Various metals, tools, oil, several weapons, all smithing materials. Then I have a doll,” He pulled it out, it was a threadbare thing, repaired several times, the colorful thread for the face and dress soiled and worn. “It is valuable to me,” Valter’s voice taking on a harsh note, handling it as if a new born, putting it away carefully.

“Then there is an abused medal.” He took it out, pressed and scarred metal, the veneer cracked and bent, half melted on one side. “It makes me feel melancholy, gut churning sad and fiery anger like coals freshly raked in my chest.” He turned it in his fingers as if his fingers could melt it down into raw metal. He tossed it back into his storage and removed what looked like a snowglobe with shimmering runes over the surface. “I also have a forge in a ball.”

“That looks like a removable forge,” Desari squinted at the ball. “You throw that on the ground and it will make a forge, then you can capture it back up into the globe and keep moving.”

He turned the globe in his hands.

“Interesting.” He slid it back into a pouch. “I don’t have food or clothes, or camping gear.”

Desari raised an eyebrow, Valter seemed like the kind of person that would be ready for anything that life threw him.

“Well, I have some extra gear I can give you, and my clothes are about the same size as that,” Petor said. Valter was already pushing the limits of the shirt and pants Petor had given him.

“Yes, as much as I’m thankful for the clothes,” He raised his arm, straining against the fabric. “It is a bit tight.”

“Ah I can learn to appreciate,” Mya waggled her eyebrows and winked at Desari. “Eh?”

Desari sighed, and looked at Petor.

“I have food, water, sleeping gear, some farming gear, seeds and such,” Petor debated with himself for a second. “The farming gear and seeds make me feel comfortable.”

“I was right! Farmer! You owe me a gold donal!” Mya cackled.

Petor frowned at her. “I have simple wood working tools, nothing much and then I have my sling, and then a box of sling projectiles.” He pulled out a box of them, the box broken down into squares holding the spherical ammunition. Some swirled like an ocean was caught in them, others had runes on them. Others were multi-facted so much to appear round.

The others studied them, then Desari moved away.

“Bombs, smoke, poison, explosive, fire,” Valter was appreciative as he studied the box. Petor pulled out a pencil.

“Which ones?”

Mya chortled as Desari moved further away. “Box of bombs and you don’t know which ones they are, classic!”

Petor rolled his eyes and looked at Valter. “I can sense it in general terms but I do not know for sure. Best to use them as a last case scenario, or when we’re far from the target.”

“That medallion,” Desari pointed at it hanging from his neck.

“Yeah,” Petor turned over the scarred metal.

“That’s a crest for a nation I think.”

Petor studied it. “It’s heavy.”

“Is it gold?” Mya perked up.

“No its not gold, and I meant like emotionally. I just can’t piece anything together,” Petor let the medallion drop, exhaling in frustration.

“We’ll figure it out,” Valter promised. Petor looked into his eyes, deep browns, reliable, sturdy, the weight of his words a physical thing.

“Thank you friend,” Petor bowed his head.

Valter tilted his head and sat back.

“Anything else?” Desari asked.

“A bunch of books,” Petor took out three of them, causing her to perk up and turn her head to read the spines and covers.

“There about different churches, gods and champions?” He read the covers.

“This goes through the different paladins and champions of the gods, the powers and boons each are supposed to have been granted by the gods. How powerful each god are and the territory they control. Petor flipped through to an earmarked page, writing coating the page.

“I think I wanted to become a paladin?” Petor frowned.

“You feeling devout to anyone, want to pray to them?” Mya asked.

He tilted his head to the side, weighing her words. “Nope not really.” He shrugged.

“Might be best to put that on hold until we find out just who we are and what is going on here,” Valter said.

“Agreed,” Desari slowly read through the page she was reading on oaths, nodding to herself. “Right now we have no one we can trust but one another. We have lived entire pasts, who knows where our footsteps have led us.”

“We need to get away from that cathedral and figure out just what happened to us,” Petor put his books away.

“We should swear an oath to one another,” Desari’s eyes slid over them, watching the impact.

“What you want to make an oath about?” Mya leaned back, a Cheshire smile upon her lips.

“Trust, that we will not lie, that we will not attack one another, assure our trust in one another,” Desari pushed on, talking faster. “We don’t know what we will learn, what might change in the future, the oath will allow us to remain faithful to one another and if someone isn’t then the others will know.”