Reborn From the Cosmos

Miniarc-Villains-11

Samuel’s hopes of finding a job he wouldn’t find entirely offensive were quickly dashed. The man he randomly accosted, Abott, was in charge of the hospital. He had the final word in its operation and he decided that Samuel would be best utilized doing work just as demeaning as slaving over a hot fire.

The prince was placed with the launderers.

He was glad that he wouldn’t be in contact with the patients, eliminating the risk of catching the sickness he’d been hearing about, but that didn’t make him feel better about washing undergarments and soiled clothes. However, his efforts to dispute it fell on death ears. Abott made it clear that if he didn’t want to do the work given to him, he could get out, something Samuel was unwilling to do.

One thing made it bearable; the prince didn’t have to handwash the clothes. The basins the clothes were washed had wooden arms that moved with the water. Samuel didn’t know how it worked but all he had to do was keep the water churning and the clothes washed themselves. Another acolyte prepared the loads and added a strange powder the prince assumed was some kind of soap. They even provided the spell, though he could manage something so simple on his own.

Once he got the hang of it, Samuel was working three basins but the mountain of clothes never ended. He wondered if he were laundering for the entire camp until a closer look revealed that it wasn’t just clothes, but bandages, sheets, blankets, and anything else with a stitch in it being cleaned. He questioned the acolyte assisting him where it all came from and was shocked to learn it was just from the hospital. The acolyte continued to rant about the resources the hospital consumed. There was never enough, and its demands grew daily.

It was late in the afternoon when the prince began to feel mana strain. His fellows told him he was done for the day, but he could work in the hospital itself if he wanted to give more of his time. Samuel promptly refused, slight embarrassed that he’d gotten so caught up in the work. Ewan made himself useful hauling the clean laundry to the hanging lines. Together, they made fast progress and Samuel had been lulled into a productive trance.

As soon as he was free, the prince went in search of Cecilia but one look at her busy figure told him she wouldn’t appreciate him making himself a bother. There was nothing else to do but go home. When he returned to the launderers to report as much, he was prompted to have a meal. It wasn’t amazing fare, but it was free and filling, the two things most acolytes cared about. It was a long ride back to the Hall on an empty stomach, long enough the prince decided it was better to eat at least a little of the simple food.

Once more, he cut to the front of the line after grabbing a bowl and spoon. No one seemed happy but the server gave him his portion of stew and a limp roll without fuss. While Ewan received his food, Samuel’s eyes reflexively scanned the crowd, the action of a seasoned socialite. He was surprised when his gaze landed on a familiar face, one he wasn’t entirely happy to see. Samuel debated with himself for several moments but decided to approach.

His target was oblivious to the prince’s approach until Samuel was close enough to shadow him. Robert Quintana looked up from his untouched food and Samuel was unnerved to see the absent gaze of the refugees on the usually optimistic boy.

Robert had a special place within the social strata of the capital. He had common origins, his father being a simple guard and his mother an artist of little renown until her son started to garner attention. To date, he had accomplished nothing of note, his greatest claim to fame winning a small martial tournament as a boy. Anyone else wouldn’t be worthy of any noble’s attention, let alone a prince.

However, the aspiring hero was unlike anyone else.

Robert had four affinities. He vividly remembered his mother explaining the reason why a common boy was being introduced to them. Casters were a minority in the kingdom. There were no extensive studies on the subject but his mother told him that two in every five people learned some kind of magic. Of those, one in a hundred received proper training, either through an apprenticeship or through the Hall.

Of those, one in every thousand had dual basic affinities, one in every ten thousand had dual affinities that included a greater affinity, and maybe one in a generation would be born with three affinities. Someone born with four affinities? It wasn’t unheard of, but it was so rare, even in the oldest of their histories, its occurrence was considered a miracle.

He was of little import in the present, but he was all but guaranteed to be a powerhouse in the future. If he were determined, he had all the advantages to become the most powerful caster in the kingdom. Religion didn’t have much sway over the people, but the few notable devout thought Robert was blessed by the saints, destined to be the next saint and lead Harvest into a golden era.

It made sense that the king would be interested in the boy. Very interested. Boundaries had to be maintained but Robert had a standing invitation to any event hosted by the crown. He visited the palace often, lunching with the royal heirs. Sometimes, he attended dinner.

Both princes were encouraged to befriend him. Dowager had the most luck in that regard, the two swordsmen bonding over their fascination with martial arts. Bastian never stood a chance, as Robert objected to everything the prince embodied. He and Samuel never got on well, but they were cordial.

The prince wasn’t amused by the aspiring heroes moral ambitions, especially when Robert decided to impose them on the rest of the world. Samuel was sure the younger man wasn’t impressed with him either. Respect and foresight kept them from saying a bad word to each other. No matter how liked he was, Robert couldn’t speak against a prince without very good reason. For Samuel, he always kept in mind the very public discussions of the king’s hope that Robert would join the royal knights as soon as tradition allowed and the private conversations around the dinner table of possibly marrying him to the youngest princess.

There was little of the idealistic boy in the slouched figure Samuel looked down on. He looked the same, though his curly hair could do with a cut and his usually smooth face was sullied by a patchy, pitiful beard. His clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in a week and he smelled as if he hadn’t touched a bath in just as long.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The future hero looked unwell, if not in health than certainly in thought.

Whatever his problems, he didn’t forget his etiquette. Once he recognized who stood before him, he slowly climbed to his feet and bowed. “Afternoon, Prince Samuel.”

“Bobby.” Samuel noticed with unease that Robert didn’t react to his hated nickname. He always winced when someone called him something other than Quin. “It’s late, but I wanted to express my condolences,” the prince continued, lacking another reason to explain his approach. “I’m sorry for what happened to Sebas.”

“Please, your highness. Those are my words. He was your family.”

“I won’t pretend that our shared blood means that we were closer. The two of you spent every day together for months and were friends before then. You’ve earned your grief.”

“Grief…” Robert sighed. “Do you think you can forget an emotion?”

“…what?”

“I think you can. I used to be haunted by Sebas death. But then there was so much to grieve for, the feeling got lost under it all…”

The prince stared at the other man, adjusting his estimation of Robert’s mental state from unwell to unhealthy. “The tragedy is appalling.”

“Yes, but it warms my heart to see the Hall coming to the aid of the people. There is evil in the world but evil inspires good. Even a prince is lending a hand.”

Robert smiled and the prince saw traces of the boy he knew behind it. Samuel wondered what would happen if he confessed that he was only in the camp to impress his crush. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s more than you think. These people think they’ve been abandoned by the crown and saints both. Having you here, moving amongst them, caring for them, I’m sure it will fill them with confidence. But you should return to the Hall before dark.”

“Why before dark?” Ewan interrupted. Samuel didn’t mind because the same question was on the tip of his tongue.

Robert blinked as he turned to the knight, his shock evident. If the prince didn’t know better, he’d say the younger man didn’t know Ewan was there despite standing at Samuel’s shoulder. “Sir Reed, hello. I’m thinking of the prince’s safety. There has been unrest in the camp lately.”

“…is it a continuation of the recent conflict?”

Samuel flinched at the expression Robert flashed. It was more than a scowl; there was barely repressed anger in the furrow of his brows, hateful disdain in the curl of his lips, and the promise of violence in his eyes. But only for a moment. In a blink, the expression was replaced by exhaustion.

I suppose it is, in a way. The camp can be roughly divided into two camps; those that blame the Tome clan for the tragedy and those that blame everyone. The first group just wants to rebuild their homes while the second is interested in revenge. Neither side can accept the existence of the other and it’s led to several fights. The second group also isn’t picky about their targets. They enjoy sowing discord and take every opportunity to do so.”

“Nothing a prince should be around.”

“I see. Perhaps you should take your own advice, Bobby.” He looked like he needed a night away from the camp.

Robert shook his head. “No, the Watch needs all the help it can get. Speaking of, I better get back to it. Your highness, Sir Reed.”

With another bow, Robert walked off without giving the other men a chance to say their own goodbyes. Samuel noted that he left his food on his seat.