The Fifth Star - Chapter 1 (1/2) - Awakening

“Ah, there you are!”

Rhin’s eyes felt as if they were weighed down with lead and he struggled for several moments to open them. Wherever he was, the light blinded him painfully and he snapped them shut again in short order.

“Oh!” the soft, female voice exclaimed, “Let me just get the curtain.” He heard the sound of shuffling cloth and then the soothing darkness eased over his eyelids. Rhin opened his eyes once more to take in his surroundings.

The room he occupied was richly appointed; drapes of silk wafted in the window, a large fireplace with a crackling fire was set into one wall, great plush rugs scattered about protected bare feet from the cold stone floor. The bed he currently laid in was the most comfortable surface he’d ever slept on – he shifted his body a bit on the mattress and discovered it was stuffed with feathers. On the right side of the room, he saw a solid wooden desk covered in vials of what he assumed were medicines. Finally, he shifted his sight to the woman who had spoken, standing at the foot of the bed. She was a healer, evidenced by the modest green robes she wore that covered her from neck to ankle in several layers.

“Where am I?” Rhin groaned as he sat up in the bed, “Have I been sick?”

“You could say that,” the woman responded cryptically before she asked her own question, “You’re in Lord Harlemont’s castle. Do you know where that is?”

“Of course I do,” Rhin snapped at her, a reaction born of his sudden worry, “I grew up in Lothan. Why am I here? What happened?”

The healer looked inexplicably annoyed at his query. She walked around the foot of the bed to the side, and sat beside him on the mattress. “You’ve been out for a couple of weeks,” she said, “so I need to check your mental faculties anyway. What do you remember last?”

Weeks? Gods, what is going on? He obliged her without complaint however, despite his painfully empty stomach, and attempted to recall why he was here. He found his memory fuzzy and told her as such, “I… seem to be having difficulty. Could you please just tell me?”

The woman said nothing, only continued to fix him with an intense and expectant stare. Rhin sighed with exasperation as he spat at her, “Fine,” then closed his eyes and tried to remember.

The memories felt out of place, hesitant even to come to the front of his mind, but eventually they did come, in a flood. Images rushed past him; the military general Martel attempting to speak peacefully with a rowdy village in the dark of night, his arms waving wildly about with a panicked expression on his face, trying to keep order as the crowd surged. Angry villagers attacking their ranks. A mage with a face he couldn’t quite recall, dressed unexpectedly in the clothes of a villager, throwing balls of fire recklessly at the soldiers. Buildings going up in flames around them. Terror and dying people, and screams all around him. Then a final, inexplicable action on his part – throwing himself in front of Martel and taking a hit of the mage fire not intended for himself…

With a gasp, Rhin’s eyes shot open. “I remember a village, a terrible fight… blocking an attack meant for our general… is that all true? That really happened?”

He saw the healer’s smile for the first time as it stretched over her face. “Yes, Rhinlead. You saved the general, put his life above your own, a truly remarkable act of bravery-”

“I’m sorry,” Rhin interrupted before she could go on, “but, ‘Rhinlead’?” He pronounced it in sections, Rhin-lay-ad, and it certainly didn’t feel like his own as it rolled off his tongue. “That’s not my name.” He struggled to comprehend the memories; they felt foreign and strange, but he fought the rising edge of unreasonable panic with some hard logic. The strangeness of those memories must be merely my mind trying to catch up. I have been out a while.

“A hero should have a proper name, don’t you think?” the healer responded cheerily, “Harlemont chose it for you himself. Said a knight of his realm should sound like a proper gentleman, not like one of the masses.”

“What?!” Rhin exploded. Now that didn’t fit. “I’m no knight.”

“Not yet, of course,” she stated casually, “It wouldn’t be proper to knight someone while they’re unconscious, now would it? No, Harlemont will be most pleased you are awake. There is so much to be done, least now we can schedule the ceremony.”

This is an awful lot to take in, he thought, knowing he’d need to brood on this for hours before he accepted it as the truth, despite all she had said. He changed the subject. “So… my injuries. How bad, exactly?”

“I did the best I was able, but mage-fire…” she indicated the cloth bandages wrapped around his bared torso, “it just doesn’t heal as easily as a regular burn. I have most of it healed, but some will take time. And there will be scars.”

Judging by the pitying expression on her face, this wasn’t going to be a welcome sight. Rhin looked down at the clean white cloth, dreading what it concealed underneath. With a quick glance at the healer to see if she would object, he began carefully unwinding the dressings, layer by seemingly endless layer, his eyes averted until the last bit ceased clinging to him and his skin was bared. He steeled himself and looked down once again, only to be shocked at the ruin that had been made of his previously flawless stomach.

Most of the flesh from his lower sets of ribs down to his pelvis was scar tissue – puckered in places and coloured the dark pink and purple shades of recently healed wounds. He poked at it with part trepidation and part curiosity, and found the skin had a stiff, ungiving feel. At least it doesn’t hurt.

“Gods,” he murmured aloud as he let himself fall limply backwards onto the bed, “it sure is ugly.”

“The colour will fade with time, as will the stiffness. I reduced the scarring as much as I was able, but some, to be blunt, will remain for the rest of your life.” She looked down at her hands as she wrung them. “It is a lot to take in right now, I know.”

He didn’t meet her eyes when he asked, “Could I have some privacy?”

The healer looked at him and nodded solemnly. “Of course. I understand.” She stood from the edge of the bed and walked over to the table, where she collected all the jars and vials he’d noticed before into a small basket before returning to his side. “This ointment should be applied first thing in the morning and last at night. It will help return the elasticity to the skin,” she said as she handed him a large vial with a light brown paste in it, “and this one will help the itching.” Another vial, this one smaller than the first and containing a white gooey substance was given to him.

Rhin attempted to smile for the first time since waking, remembering his manners. He wasn’t convinced it didn’t emerge as a grimace instead. “I thank you, miss…?”

“Healer Silda,” she responded with a curtsy, “and you are most welcome, Sir Rhinlead.” With that she left the chamber, finally granting Rhin the peace to think.

Sir, he thought, that’s certainly going to be an adjustment. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand. His vision wavered for a moment with sudden dizziness and he braced himself against the bed to keep from falling. Are these my own chambers now? She never mentioned. Rhin carefully made his way over to the window where he flung the curtain open and let the sunshine in. By its brightness, he figured it was about midday.

So I saved Martel from a mage… but I can’t remember his face. Why do the details elude me? He reflected on this as he looked out the window over the back gardens, and strained himself trying to recall. No matter how he tried, he could find nothing wrong with his recollection and he eventually resigned himself to the truth of his situation.

She called me a hero. Do others think the same, or was that just to make me feel better about my scars? He rubbed at the skin self-consciously, assessing the foreign texture and trying to keep himself from indulging in self-pity from the same. Maybe I’ll feel better once I’m dressed. I can’t just lie around all day. Rhin walked over to a pair of doors set into one wall and opened them, revealing a full closet with a huge assortment of clothing hanging on racks within. He noted that most were the type of expensive robes or tailored outfits that only courtly people and rich merchant types wore; on top of that, all of it looked suspiciously well-sized for his own body. Did they measure me while I was unconscious? He felt slightly violated – then he realized that the people who had been nursing him back to health would have seen and done far more than that, and he let it go.

He surveyed the clothing and felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choices, eventually defaulting to the least flashy articles he could find. He pulled out a set of black breeches, and a tunic also of the same colour but accented with bits of brown the same shade as his eyes. His earlier suspicions were confirmed when he donned the clothes, as they fit his every curve like a glove. He tightened a belt about his waist and spotted a mirror hanging on the inside of the closet door as he went to shut it. Instead he opened the door wide and stepped back to survey himself.

He had to admit, he looked sharp in the tailored clothing. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to, more used to the inexpensive dyed uniforms all soldiers wore, and he smoothed the wrinkles over his bulky frame. His dirty blonde hair had grown while he’d slept, its thickly curled mass now just brushing his shoulders. Rhin hastily combed out the knots with his fingers and tried to decide where he’d go first. I’m in Lothan, in Harlemont’s castle… it still hadn’t sunk in entirely, and he felt totally out of place despite being in his home city. I need to get outdoors, sort my head out. I need some familiarity.

Maybe I’ll go see Sparrow…

When she crossed his mind, he immediately went to reach for the ribbon, her keepsake that was always near him, but of course since he’d awoken with not a stitch of his own clothing, it wasn’t on his person. Shit! Where is that, now? He searched the room frantically, heart racing, until he found his travel pack stashed away underneath the bed. It had been cleansed of its former coating of mud, and he hoped his possessions were still inside. He opened the flap that covered the top of the bag and searched through it. His rations had been discarded, but everything else was still as he remembered it. With a sigh of relief, he drew out the precious bit of red silk. He stroked it fondly for several moments, feeling himself relax substantially from the habitual action. He fumbled with it until he managed to get it tied around his bicep, just as Sparrow had done years ago when she’d given it to him.

Rhin rummaged through the closet once more until he found a hooded cloak, which he threw over his shoulders, and then he used it to promptly conceal his face. He walked over to the door and opened it, legs still a bit shaky but improving quickly. A guard stood directly in the doorway, and he turned about to face him.

“Sir,” he saluted sharply.

Rhin brushed it off with an awkward wave of his hand. “I’m no sir yet,” he told the guard, “I’m going out for a while. I’ll return in an hour or two.”

“I wouldn’t presume to order about a superior,” the guard responded with a hesitant swallow, his eyes downcast, “but if I were you I’d try to be back an hour before the meal tonight. Lord Harlemont will be expecting you to attend.”

Rhin nodded, glad for the help. “Thank you…?” he answered, clearly looking for a name to be supplied.

The guard spluttered a moment, seemingly taken by surprise that someone would bother to ask. “I-I’m just a soldier, sir…” Rhin folded his arms across his chest, waited expectantly until he gave him his name. “Tarl," the man said finally.

“Thank you, Tarl. I’m a soldier, like you. Please, don’t feel intimidated.” He said no more but started to walk briskly away down the straight corridor to his left before he realized he had absolutely no idea how to navigate the monstrous castle. Rhin sheepishly turned back about and returned to the man, face reddening with humility as he asked, “Would you mind escorting me out? I’m afraid I’m lost.”

Tarl loosened up a bit, chuckling sympathetically. “Of course.”

The route they took through the halls was convoluted and nearly incomprehensible, but the pair of them hardly saw a soul on their way – Rhin figured the guard had been more observant than he would have initially given him credit for and had noticed Rhin’s lack of fancy dress, taking the subtle hint that he wanted some measure of anonymity. They walked in silence, boots tapping rhythmically on the stone floors while Rhin absorbed all the towering ceilings and signs of exorbitant wealth about him, marveling at the inside of the castle he never thought he’d see with his own eyes. What reason would there be, after all, for a simple street dweller to enter its opulent halls?

Once they exited the walls through the main doors and walked through the guarded gate with minimal fuss, Rhin dismissed his escort and continued down the main stretch towards the town centre on his own. Lothan was home, and he need not think about his route. His feet carried him without his input. Rhin walked at a relatively leisurely pace, taking his time and reflecting as he made his way to the pleasure district. He could feel his heart flutter with anticipation the closer he got to his destination. How I’ve missed her… I hope she doesn’t send me away.

When he arrived at the district, he strolled over to the doors of the Raven’s Nest and was about to push them open when he hesitated. Suddenly he felt unsure of himself, and so he paced up and down the section of street directly in front of the brothel to stall for time and calm himself, attracting a few confused glances and frowns from other people who occupied the stretch. No point in delaying, he thought, and before he could talk himself out of it he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The main area was nearly empty; only a serving girl hustled about cleaning the tables, and a great burly man seated with his arms crossed close to the door. The latter stood from his seat and held out an arm to stop Rhin from passing. He was a solid foot taller than Rhin once he stood, with an intimidating scowl on his face. When he spoke, it was in a deep baritone that only added to his fierce appearance.

“The Raven’s Nest is closed until evening.”

What’s with the extra security? Rhin thought with annoyance. He didn’t let that creep into his voice when he responded, “It’s okay, I’m a friend. I used to live here.”

The large man shook his head back and forth. “Can’t let you in that easy. Tell me your name, and I’ll go confirm it with the mistress.”

“Rhin,” he answered, “My name is Rhin.” He crossed his own arms and leaned against the front wall by the door to wait, but the man shook his head again.

“Outside.”

“Is that really necessary?” Rhin pushed himself off the wall and returned the guard’s scowl, now becoming a bit more than annoyed at his treatment.

“Yes,” the man growled simply, then reached past him to open the door, glaring down at him until Rhin stepped outside. The door was slammed shut behind him, and he heard the sound of a bolt sliding home inside it just after.

“Bastard,” he mumbled under his breath. He’d expected the place to be as warm and friendly as he’d left it, thought he’d have been greeted as an old friend if he ever returned, rather than a stranger. Rhin paced outside the door, keeping his head down to ignore the gazes of others in the district as he waited. It was many minutes later when the door finally creaked open, and the guard waved him inside without a word.

Rhin stepped inside the brothel once again and was led to a couch in the lounge area to wait. This time however the wait could have been measured in seconds rather than minutes when his former caretaker Mistress Raven burst through the door of her chamber, her appearance disheveled and her eyes wild with eagerness as she looked about for her guest. When she saw him, a friendly smile curled her lips upward as she quickstepped across the small space to greet him.

“Rhin!” she exclaimed. The icy barriers she’d previously maintained between them seemingly melted away as she opened her arms out wide to him. He stood and embraced the woman gently, and he noted with some shock how bony and frail she felt underneath the layers of rich clothing. “Let me have a look at you,” she said as she broke the hug and stepped back to survey his appearance from top to bottom, keeping her hands on his shoulders.