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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr=class,bulk] Cecil winced as the healer placed a cool, damp cloth against the burn on his arm. He had applied his own magic to the wound prior, but he was no white mage. One could not reasonably expect to walk away from any battle unscathed – either by the opponent’s hand or one’s own. He had learned that in his years of training as a dark knight. While those days were long past, the lessons stayed with him.
”Careless again, were you?” The healer turned to take a finely ground poultice from her table, stirring it with the pestle from which it had been ground. Cecil gave a small smile in return.
”It only hurts a little,” he said. ”You have my thanks for your aid.”
The woman sighed. She was learned in her art, self-taught with herbal medicines and remedies passed down for generations. Every line on her aging face was proof of her wisdom, her practice, and the time she had spent honing her art. She was no white mage, capable of healing with a touch, but she was a master at her craft all the same.
”What kind of healer would I be if I didn’t patch you up in times like this?” She removed the cloth, prompting another barely concealed wince from Cecil, and began applying the paste to the burn instead. It soothed the pain almost instantly, and Cecil was grateful for it.
The healer clicked her tongue. ”We’ve been dealing with those monsters on our own for years, and then here comes an honest to goodness knight offering his services without expecting a gil in return. Now, don’t get me wrong. We’ve been holding our own out here long enough, but we haven’t done it without losing a few good men along the way. Ever since those blasted dragons filled the sky, the king stopped sending any men from the capital except the tax collector. Blast him too, in my opinion. We’ve been on our last legs while he sits in his castle reaping all the rewards for it.”
Cecil’s stomach turned, hearing such disparaging talk of a king from his subjects. It was instinctively wrong, a taboo driven into him since childhood, but he had seen enough of the lands beyond the city to know better than to argue. It would be disrespectful to a woman who had offered her aid so freely, and so he held his tongue, searching for any words of agreement that he could find.
”A king should serve his people,” he offered weakly. The healer tutted in agreement as she applied more of the poultice.
”Damn right he should,” she said. ”If we had the men for it, why, I think we’d do better on our own. Not that the knights of the capital would stand for it. They need our hard-earned gil, after all.”
She put the poultice back on her table and took some clean bandaging from it instead, wrapping it around the wind with unmatched expertise. ”That should do it,” she said as she tied it off. ”Now, you’d better watch yourself next time, you hear?”
Cecil smiled again, almost sheepishly this time. ”I will try,” he said before rising to his feet, stretching his arm tentatively. The burn would take time to heal. Time best spent in the village where it was inflicted. This did not concern him as much as it once might have. He had nowhere to go, after all. Nowhere but other villages in need of protection where he might offer his services for nothing more than lodgings and a meal.
He collected his armor from the front of the healer’s hut and donned it carefully, cautious of the wound underneath. His armor, his sword, his shield, these were the last remnants of his old life in Baron. He treasured them dearly.
With that, he stepped into the hot and humid air of this strange and foreign kingdom, buzzing with insects and the calls of tropical birds. His layers of armor were not suited for a climate such as this, but he bore its weight proudly. In time, he had become known across this region for his eccentricities. A knight clad in gleaming white armor, decorated with the beads in his hair and the adornments of his cape, bandanna, and the subtle coloring of his lips.
His appearance drew the eyes of the villagers as he stepped outside, but by now, he was used to such things. He set off without a word, intent on rest so that he might face his next battle with all of his strength.
He was woken that evening by the sound of shouting from the streets.
Cecil threw himself from the bed so generously provided to him by a woman of the village, a mother of three who had taken him in after he had saved her youngest from an attack by wolves. He quickly and expertly donned his armor once more before snatching his sword and shield and charging past his host and her children who had, at the sound of battle, huddled near the back of their home for safety. Cecil sprinted towards the sound, praying that he was not too late to make a difference.
He found the town guard attempting to ward off a group of strange, oozing creatures ever advancing towards the village proper. Their jabs with spears and swords seemed to do very little to dissuade them, however, and they looked relieved as Cecil approached.
”Stand aside,” Cecil commanded, and the guards gratefully obliged, scattering as Cecil stepped forward, sword raised and shield at the ready. There were three monsters, and they all took the chance to swarm him. Thankfully, Cecil’s armor held as did his shield and the parry of his sword. They threw themselves at him, hoping to engulf him with their crazed eyes and gaping maws.
Flan. Cecil had faced them before on the rocky surface of the moon. There, they had cast terrible magic which might devastate an ordinary man. There, too, his attacks had been useless against the enemies’ gelatinous masses, and he had used his efforts instead on protecting those who fought beside him so that they might trade magical blows against the creatures.
Here, he had no one but himself, and his sword proved just as ineffective as it sliced through sticky, viscous ooze that only reformed around his strikes. They were at a stalemate, it seemed, neither able to truly harm the other. That was, at least, until the flan showed their true power and began an assault of spells that he could not return.
If only he had his comrades beside him. If only he had Rydia. But he had, in the passing year, grown used to this strange and terrible solitude. This was his penance for his past mistakes. For the travesties he had committed at the behest of a false king.
It was better that he pay the price than the brave souls behind him without the training of a knight to guide their blades. He would defeat this foe. In time. Or, at the very least, he would distract and weaken them so that another might defeat them in his stead. Still, he could not help but pray for another, for his companions, for those who might fight alongside him as equals.
Rydia. Rosa. Edge. Kain. Is there no one who might lend their aid?
Post by Keimusho Onishi on Jul 10, 2023 11:09:59 GMT -6
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[attr="class","skullbody"]Mu and Enma once again found themselves returning to Torensten, though not yet near the capital. Instead, he found himself in a village that was within the nation, but not the city proper. A few moments ago, he overheard a couple of guards run past, warning the citizens of monsters. [break][break] "What's going on?" Mu asks a nearby guard. [break][break] The guard eyes him, noticing the ornate armor that is simultaneously fit for a shadowy warrior and Enma floating above his shoulder. "Ah, from the look of that armor and monster floating there, you must be Mu from that ceremony that the king held for the Kraken slayers," the guard notes. [break][break] That ceremony was quite a bit ago, but it apparently stayed somewhat fresh in the minds of some. As much as he wishes it otherwise, it could not be helped. Slaying a few monsters in the opens causes the reputation to follow you. [break][break] "Hey, I'm no monster. I'm a respectable warrior!" Enma interjects. [break][break] "Whatever you say," the guard responds to the oni's comment. "Anyway, some flan have breached into the city in that direction. There's a knight holding them off while we route the citizens to safety." [break][break] "I see," Mu responds. [break][break] "Ah, thinking of joining the fray boss?" Enma asks the ninja. [break][break] "Certainly, Enma let us be off." [break][break] The monster problem that Torensten is seemingly never ending, even the capital itself is not immune. A village of this size couldn't hope to match the protections of its nation's capital. If it weren't for the magic that allowed for the people to constantly rebuild, the nation likely would not be standing as it is. Hopefully the rebuilding efforts are also brought to the villages as well. [break][break] This monster threat would once again for Mu to spring to action in broad daylight. Keimusho would leap atop a nearby home and leap across nearby structures to create a vantage point and take the monsters by surprise if they hadn't been dealt with already. This time the monsters are some type of gelatinous creatures he hasn't encountered before. He certainly didn't see them in Doma or anywhere else in the Far East for that matter. Eorzeans would recognize them as a voidsent often referred interchangeably as puddings in addition to flan. He was not in the western part of his homeworld long enough to ever encounter one there, thanks to being sent here to Zephon. [break][break] The knight that the guard mentioned was staving off a barrage of magic by the flan. There was quite a number of flan surrounding him, but Mu judged that the knight was much too close to them in order to utilize Katon without hitting him as well. The ninja instead brought his hands together to form Ten and Chi. The two mudra signs were woven by the ninja to unleash Raiton. The shinobi weaved his hands together in a final sign, which summoned a bolt of lightning from the sky to smite one of the monsters into a splattered pool of gelatin. He would weave these same two mudra once more to bring another of the monsters to the same fate.
[attr=class,bulk] The monsters wielded the power of ice.
It wasn’t long before the oozing abominations realized that they could not reach him with their strength alone. Though their mouths gaped hungrily for him, their gelatinous masses were nothing in the face of his armor and skill with a shield. It was all that Cecil could do to stave off their attacks, parrying, blocking, and occasionally counter-striking with a swipe of his blade that seemed to do nothing at all. It was almost a farce. Cecil knew that these enemies were weak. He knew, too, that he should have been more than a match for them. And yet because he had no offensive magic of his own, he was as powerless as a child before them.
Still, his efforts were not in vain. It meant that the town guard had retreated, watching warily from a safe distance by the time that the flan grew enraged and summoned their magic to freeze him in place.
He heard the crack of erupting ice before he felt the cold. He had faced this magic many times and had witnessed it cast many times more. He braced himself as icicles erupted around his feet, transferred their chill to him, and then erupted into deadly shards. Thankfully, his armor shielded him from this too, but it did nothing to stop the cold from settling into his body, piercing it like the strike of an arctic sword. He bit his lip to strangle the cry of pain as the cold set upon his still healing burn, tightly bandaged but vulnerable still.
He had to keep his focus. Perhaps if he struck the same enemy enough times, the damage would eventually accumulate in a way that it could not heal. It was a battle of attrition, and he was at the disadvantage. Unless…
His thoughts, his fight, were interrupted by another sound. A crackling, a static which hung heavy in the air. Cecil braced himself for impact, but the force erupted not on him, but on the monsters before him in a cascade of brilliant light which struck again and again from the heavens. Cecil blinked in surprise as he watched two of his gelatinous opponents writhe and then slowly ooze into a puddle at his feet, inert in death. The last of the flan had fared only a little better, and Cecil could see how its body bubbled with the heat, its wild eyes rolling in pain. Cecil took the opportunity to strike it straight through, and that seemed enough to finish it. As Cecil pulled his blade from the monster’s unnatural body, it seemed to fold back on itself, mouth gaping as it slowly melted into the earth.
Cecil watched the three moldering puddles at his feet. Only now did he realize that he was breathing heavily, shivering only just enough from their magic that his shield trembled where it was set on his forearm. Said shield was coated with foul smelling ooze, as was his sword. The rest of him was splattered with it in incoherent patches. He would need to take care in cleaning it. He knew from experience that the remains of a flan could sneak its way into the most unexpected of crevices and reek for days.
It was only once Cecil had taken account of his own condition that he finally looked up to meet the eyes of his unexpected ally. That ally struck an imposing form across from the wretched mass of oozes that coated the earth between them. The man (at least, he thought it was a man) was dressed in several layers of heavy violet armor, inscribed with sigils that were altogether foreign. His under armor extended up into a mask that covered his neck, nose, and mouth and his hair, surprisingly, was a long and sleek white.
Cecil was so taken aback by this coloration that he hardly noticed the black horns which sprouted somewhere from the man’s head. He had never met another with hair as white as the moonlight. He had thought it a distinctly Lunerian trait, and though he doubted the man hailed from that distant moon, it was still enough to disarm him. There were many people here from kingdoms even farther than the Lunerians, he reminded himself, and the people who lived in this world were often strange and foreign to him in their own way.
Cecil flicked as much ooze as he could manage from his sword and stowed it expertly away in its sheath. He offered the strange man a tired smile. ”You have my thanks,” he said, and he meant it. Alone, he had been powerless. An ally in arms was always welcome. ”I did not expect to meet a black mage so far from the city.”
Post by Keimusho Onishi on Jul 20, 2023 19:34:03 GMT -6
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[attr="class","skullbody"]Mu watched as his two bolts of lightning granted the knight an opening to dispatch the final flan by driving its blade deep within the monstrous sludge, splattering its slimy carcass all over his blade and shield. Thankfully, the shinobi did not have to endure a similar fate since he opted for a long-ranged approach. If he had to use his blade, the cleanup process of his armor would surely not be pleasant. Nor would Enma's complaints that his vessel (the blade) was covered in slime. Even though this knight had a shield to bear the bulk of the sludge, the ninja did not envy the warrior in the slightest. [break][break] Once the handwork was done, Keimusho leapt from the building he stood upon to greet the knight who thanked him for the assistance. Though he proceeds to identify Mu as a black mage, which caused him to raise a brow. [break][break] "Black mage? You are mistaken my fine sir! The boss is no black mage. He's not wearing enough black! But he is wearing quite a lot of violet... Maybe you call him a purple mage!" Enma says to the warrior. [break][break] "Enough, Enma," Mu interjects. "Apologies. He simply jests, but I'm no black mage or mage of any kind." In his world, the black mage profession was one that almost completely died out due to them being partially responsible for a calamity. All he really knew about black mages were how they are said to have powerful, destructive magicks, which he only saw firsthand in Zephon during a skirmish with an angry spell slinger that attacked a whole village. The ninja can't seem to recall what exactly that black mage was so angry about though. In fact, the memory of that entire encounter was rather foggy. Though he did remember that the mage casted Thunder quite a few times. Perhaps he mistook Raiton for that spell. "The assistance I offered was no trouble, really," Mu assured him. "From what I witnessed, I doubt those flan were getting through your shield anytime soon." [break][break] "But... they did get on your shield," Enma adds. "You might want get that washed off. I am sure that is not going to smell pleasant later." [break][break] "Right... though I have neglected to introduce myself," Mu remembers. As is customary for his homeland of Doma, the shinobi gives a bow to the shielded warrior. "I am Mu and this is my companion Enma."
[attr=class,bulk] Cecil’s unexpected ally jumped confidently from the rooftops, landing with a light-footed grace that seemed out of place for a man so heavily clad in armor. Now that they were on equal footing, the man in question towered over him, taller perhaps even than Kain. Cecil couldn’t help his look of surprise. Despite his gratitude, he couldn’t help his own curiosity.
That curiosity doubled as a small horned creature popped out behind his ally’s back and began speaking to him. Cecil was certainly no stranger to impossible creatures nor to their summoning. He was no stranger even to conversing with them, but this one seemed…odd to say the least. It was far smaller than any of the summons he had met at Rydia’s side. It was a deep red, floating with a tail like a ghost’s and eyeing him with its goblinoid face, pointed teeth clacking with every syllable.
Cecil looked to the man in confusion. The man in question (a summoner perhaps?) told him only the creature’s name and clarified that he was not a mage. Had the magic come from the creature, Enma then? Was the man truly a summoner or perhaps a tamer of beasts? The pair bantered back and forth, Enma pointing out that Cecil’s gear was no longer as clean as it had once been. Cecil did not know how to respond to this.
Thankfully, the violet-clad man interjected fairly quickly, introducing himself as Mu with a short bow of respect. Cecil bowed his own head in return.
”Cecil. I am a knight of the kingdom of Baron.”
So far, none had recognized the name – neither his own or that of his kingdom. Still, he continued his introductions in this way. It was as he had been taught, and more than that, it linked him to his past. Perhaps one day his companions would be found by another he had met and would introduce themselves the same. Cecil had not given up his search just yet, and it was likely he never would.
”If it was not magic which slayed the beasts then might I ask your methods? I have never heard of the summon Enma.” Nor had he heard of a summoner beyond the lands of Mist of which Rydia had been the sole survivor. This was a different world, however, with a different history and a different set of expectations. He did not wish to make assumptions.
Post by Keimusho Onishi on Jul 23, 2023 12:50:44 GMT -6
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[attr="class","skullbody"]The man introduced himself as Cecil, a knight from a land called Baron. It was not a name that he had recognized from his homeworld nor from Zephon. "Ah, so you too are an outlander?" the shinobi asks. [break][break] The knight seemed to be quite curious about how Mu felled the flan, giving the credit to Enma who he believed to be some sort of summon. Admittedly, Mu could see how easy a connection like that could have been made, given that he didn't see Mu making the handseals to cast the technique. Enma too is something that isn't simply understood, let alone a being that is easy be around. The assumption that Mu summoned him like an arcanist was also understandable. The ability to summon creatures isn't entirely out of the question for ninjas. Often the onmyoji summon spirits called shikigami and bind them to clay golems called koji. Some ninjas are capable of summoning such constructs, which then explode. It is a technique that Mu had not learned himself. [break][break] But Enma was no summon either, so the shinobi felt the need to clear that misconception as well. "Summon... It all makes sense now!" Enma blurts out. The oni proceeds to raise his aetherial arms to the sky with a tooth grin on his visage. "This is why I am the fine specimen before you. I have been summoned by the kami themselves to grace worlds with my beauty!" Mu was left speechless. This was excessive even by Enma's usual standards. Ignoring his companion, the ninja proceeds to seriously respond to Cecil's question. "Anyways... Enma is not quite a summon either, he more or less shows himself whenever he pleases." Mu responds. "As for my methods... I suppose that all I can say is that they are secret techniques from my homeland." Even though it does not really matter since they are in Zephon, even saying that much somewhat irked Mu. The secretive habits of shinobi are nigh unshakeable, but they proved to less useful in a place where he stands out more due to being an Au Ra among other factors.
[attr=class,bulk] While Cecil saw no recognition in the man’s eyes, there was at least a spark of understanding. ”Ah, so you too are an outlander?” Mu asked, and Cecil couldn’t help a small smile. He had suspected that his new ally was not of this world, but the confirmation was somehow comforting nonetheless. While Cecil had not found the kinship of another who had shared his experiences upon his war-torn realm, he had at least found one who could relate to the experiences since his banishment from it.
”I’m afraid so,” he affirmed. His relocation had, in all his time, been nothing but a curse. He longed with all his heart to return to the home he knew even if he knew that home could never exist again. He longed to return to the fight he had left and to finish what his brother had started with Zemus. His wishes went ungranted, however, and he knew there was no place for them here.
Mu’s…companion took the comparison to a summon to heart. At first, Cecil could only frown in his own confusion at the being’s boasting. Was that…sarcasm? Or was it the bravado of an otherworldly being, the likes of which Cecil could hardly imagine? Mu cleared his misconceptions quite quickly for which the knight was grateful.
Enma, it seemed, was not a summon. Cecil’s curiosity grew over the nature of the strange being before him, but he chose to listen to Mu’s explanation rather than interrupt. He considered the fellow outsider’s words for a moment, nodding slowly as he thought them through.
It seemed that Mu had no interest in satisfying Cecil’s curiosity, neither for his non-magical power nor for his companion. Cecil decided to respect this boundary. Mu had spared him a terrible fight which would have exhausted him on his own. Cecil would offer him no disrespect in turn.
”I see,” Cecil replied. ”Well, you have my thanks. Enma. Mu.” He bowed his head again in gratitude. Behind him, he heard the town guard approach now that the threat had been quelled.
”Flan! Out here? But don’t they usually stay near the coast?”
”I hope there aren’t more of them. They only respond to magic, you know.”
”Well, we don’t have any mages, and we’re not getting them from the capital. Maybe we could buy some crystals just in case?”
Cecil listened politely, waiting to be addressed. When he was not, he turned again to Mu. ”Are you in need of a place to stay? Perhaps we could talk over food?” The sun had set sometime during Cecil’s resting, and though he hated to admit it, hunger ate at him as thoroughly as his exhaustion.
Post by Keimusho Onishi on Jul 25, 2023 15:43:49 GMT -6
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[attr="class","skullbody"]Cecil did not press Mu further about his abilities or about Enma. For this he was grateful in more ways than one. Who knows what else Enma would've said to further confuse the issue? Enma's antics were something that the shinobi was frankly exhausted of dealing with for today. [break][break] Nearby the guards would discuss how the presence of flan were unordinary in this part of the country. This explained why they were so unprepared for them. Worse still was that they lacked the magic to combat them on their own. This had Mu wondering, how many villages shared this issue? How many are completely lacking the magical inclinations that kept the capital moderately protected from monsters and gave them the means to repair Torensten from damages? May the kami forbid much more dangerous monsters from attacking this village. [break][break] Cecil asked the shinobi if he was in need of a place to rest for the incoming night and suggested that they further their conversation through food. It is an inquiry that Mu is appreciative of but would sadly have to decline. However, before Mu could give Cecil this response, Enma responded. "Food! Please boss, I'm tired of eating rations!" [break][break] The shinobi turns to his companion with a raised brow. "...Enma. You don't even eat." Keimusho didn't understand why Enma is doing this, but he couldn't help but admit that his companion has some sort of point. The Au Ra more or less lived exclusively upon rations with few exceptions, but this was a means to avoid taking off his mask in front of others. The only person to see Mu's face since he came to Zephon was Caius during the Festival of the Hunt feast. Though at the very least he would have to stay in this village for the night, lest he and Enma travel through the night, which isn't entirely out of the question for a shinobi like Mu. Nevertheless, the ninja decided to reevaluate his decision somewhat. [break][break] "I suppose that Enma and I will have to stay in the village for the night. I trust you know of a place? As for food, I won't partake myself, but feel free to continue our discussion as you satisfy your hunger." This was the best compromise that Mu could come up with, to avoid Enma's needless complaints throughout the night.
[attr=class,bulk] Cecil watched the two of them argue. It was somewhat amusing in its own way, and Cecil smiled faintly at the sight of it. It was clear that whatever Enma was and whatever power Mu wielded that the two of them were quite close despite it all. It reminded him a little of himself and Kain. Though they rarely saw eye to eye, Cecil wouldn’t have traded his friend’s company for anyone else’s in all of Baron except, perhaps, for Rosa’s.
After a moment of thought, Mu accepted the offer on his own conditions. Mu would not be eating despite his companion’s insistence to the contrary. It made Cecil wonder if Enma somehow derived subsistence directly from Mu if the entity could not eat on its own. Still, it was of little matter. The suggestion had been purely to instigate conversation, and Mu seemed quite amenable to that with or without a meal in front of him.
Cecil, however, could not deny his own hunger and nodded respectfully. ”There is a tavern not far from here. I will explain the situation to the innkeeper and, hopefully, give you a place to stay.” This village, like so many others, was endlessly grateful to the traveling knights, mercenaries, and powerful outsiders which occasionally frequented its lands. Even if Cecil could not secure Mu a room for the night, he had no doubts that the innkeeper might offer a discount for the man’s aid against the flan.
Cecil, who had little gil to spare, preferred to stay in the company of those grateful to his services or to simply sleep beneath the stars. He had always felt an affinity for the night sky. Now he knew the reason as to why.
He nodded to them both and began down the narrow street, past the guards still in fervent conversation. It did not take long to lead his new companions to the tavern, a place only identified by the crude etching of a mug of ale above the entrance. The people here were skilled in many aspects – herbal medicine, hunting in the grounds about their tropical home, the cultivation of native fruits and all they offered – but literacy was not a common skill among them.
Cecil led Mu inside. The tavern was never crowded, but at this hour of the waning day, there was more of a crowd than usual. Cecil led them both to the farthest corner table that he could find, bid that they rest their feet while he addressed the innkeeper, and left them to do so. It took him some time to wait patiently through the line at the bar counter, but once he did, he was met with few surprises. The innkeeper would not house Mu for free, but would give him the expected discount. He offered Cecil the same, an offer which he once again refused. Instead, he asked for a discount on his meal and for a wrapped set of packaged provisions. His wish was easily granted.
Cecil returned to Mu’s table with a bowl of rice topped with steamed tropical fruits in one hand and a mug of their strange cider in the other. He held a bag awkwardly in the crook of his elbow, and was grateful to set it all down when he had the chance. ”I know that you do not wish to eat here,” he said, ”But I arranged for a meal that you can take with you to eat at your leisure. It was the least I could do.” He nudged the bag towards Mu before he began stripping himself of his sticky, foul-smelling armor. First, he removed his shield, setting it delicately against an adjacent chair. Then he unstrapped his pauldrons then his chest plate then his bracers and gauntlets until the only armor which remained was that at his hips with his sword still strapped tightly to it. Above that, he was stripped to his black under-armor which reached well to his neck
He was doubtful that he should be attacked here of all places. It was easier to eat without the weight of intricately carved iron to restrict his movement.
Cecil sat across from Mu and took a sip of his cider (wincing slightly at the taste he had not yet acquired for it) and then began into his meal of fruit and rice. It was a cheap meal, but Cecil did not wish to strain his already limited coffers, and he needed nothing but the basics.
”Not many travel such distances as this,” he said by way of conversation. ”What brought you to this place, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Post by Keimusho Onishi on Jul 31, 2023 22:38:30 GMT -6
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[attr="class","skulltitle"]無
[attr="class","skulloverlap"]MU
[attr="class","skullbody"]Cecil informs Mu about a local tavern and that he'd negotiate a place for him and Enma to stay for the night. It seems to the shinobi that Cecil knew the innkeeper relatively well if he was able to do something like this. Mu nodded in acknowledgement. "I see. I highly appreciate the assistance, Cecil," Mu responds. He and Enma proceed to follow the knight to the tavern distinguished only by the logo of a mug on the building's exterior. As the knight promised, Cecil explained how Mu assisted with the flan situation. This did not result in a free room for the night, but one at a discounted rate. This was completely understandable by the ninja who paid the asked price for the room. He didn't expect an inn in village like this to be bustling with business so a discount would be the best they could hope for. Besides Mu wasn't one to barter anyway. [break][break] Once he and Cecil were seated, the knight offered him a bag of food for him to eat later. It certainly saved him the trouble of stocking up on rations in the morning. The shinobi accepts the bag that the knight offers him. "My thanks Cecil, though you have already done enough for me," Mu says. "Shall I reimburse you for the coin spent on this meal?" [break][break] Cecil would ask Mu what brought him to this village. "Nothing in particular," Mu admitted. "Perhaps curiosity more than anything. To see how the state of Torensten's villages compare to the capital. Now I see how the defenses pale in comparison." [break][break] "Does that mean that we will be going to villages like these more often boss?" Enma asks. [break][break] "Certainly," Mu responds to Enma. He turns his attention back to Cecil. "Enma and I more or less travel around helping out others whenever we can. Though we often find ourselves going back and forth between Torensten and Sonora. I never thought to travel around this much before we got sent to Zephon. What of yourself? It seems that you been in this village a while based on your familiarity with the place."
