It was about an hour after sunset when the visitors came to the little village. Before they arrived, everyone had been going about their day as peaceful as could possibly be. Men who had worked outside in the fields, at the smiths, and around the house, now sat at their tables surrounded by their families. Women who had spent the day mending clothes, cleaning the rooms, and preparing the food, laid it down upon the table, grateful for the work that kept their thoughts occupied. For a time as the world grew dark a quiet tension seemed to ease its way out of the collective houses. In that time a man could sit down and find that he was truly wealthy in the blessings of the Stars’. Despite the disparity of their situation, they had what they needed to live through it. Stone walls that held back the wind, a hearth that staved off the cold, good food to put on the table, children to teach and protect, and a woman to hold your hand through every storm.
Tonight was not like ordinary nights. On an ordinary night the husband would come in, his brow sweating from the day's work, and begin to wash for supper, complaining about one more job he would have like to have finished but couldn’t. Secretly though, he would be grateful for the fatigue in his muscles, the feeling of hard work being done. The wife would respond with news of the day, whether it be domestic or gossip from the rest of the village. The children would be elsewhere, pretending not to be shirking in their chores. Once the food is prepared and the table is set, the family would unceremoniously begin their meal. Sometimes they would talk, other times they would just enjoy each other’s company in silence. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight the husband would have worked until he had run out of jobs to do, as would the wife and the children. When he came home there would be no gossip, there would be little talking in general. When the food had been prepared they would all gather around the table together. No one touch the food until they had all clasped hands and gave thanks to the Stars above for everything that they had. As they ate the father would ask if everyone had a good day, and they would reply that they had. He would tell his children of some project he had in mind for the house, and ask if they would enjoy assisting him, and they would tell him ‘yes’, and for a while everyone would feel happy, they would feel safe.
The tremors that followed shattered their illusion of safety as surely as the porcelain that fell from a shelf. As one the family would stand up from their table, step outside of their meager house, and huddle together just as every other family around them would do. Everyone remained close to their homes. No one dared stand out by remaining anywhere except to the side of the main road that ran straight through the center of the village. No one except two individuals, two victims of chance. The first was a young man of about twenty winters of age. Not particularly tall, but strong of build, and of character. He wore a newly tailored laced shirt, a new coat of red and black, new black trousers, and new boots. His hair was freshly cut and his beard shaved, making him look more handsome than he really was. Besides him stood a woman no more than ten years older than the young man. She wore an immaculate dress of green, trimmed with golden-yellow lace, a high neck, and an oval cut-out that revealed a modest amount of cleavage. It was a dress too fine, and revealing, for the simple country village, but all too appropriate for where she was going.
Both man and woman stood alone at the center of the village, the man’s hands clasped firmly behind his back, he stood tall against the oncoming tremors. The woman kept her hands folded in front of her, her eyes closed as she uttered a prayer to herself. For those few quiet moments between the tremors, quiet weeping could be heard from somewhere close by. By now, several dark shapes could be seen floating amongst the treetops. It wasn’t long before these shapes crystallized into the forms of three women, each dwarfing the trees around them in sheer height. The two women in the back were a guard of escort. They were both dressed head to toe for a battle that neither of them expected to fight tonight. Their breast plates sat polished over top white skirts. The sandals on their feet were laced all the way up to their calves. On their forearms were a set of vambraces. A long sword was buckled onto the belts at their waists, and both women wore a red cloak, pinned at their right shoulder, and draped over their left.
Despite the armour they wore, the only purpose of the guards were to add a touch of officiality to the ceremony, if it could be called one. Each of the visitors stood between 80 and 100ft tall. Any one of the women could stand to battle against the entire village and emerge victorious without the slightest effort. The emissary the guards were escorting stood between them. She wore a dress of blue and white, coupled with a travelling cloak of the same colors. In her hand was a staff, carve out of the whole trunk of a red-wood tree, signifying her authority and station. Her chestnut hair was held up above her head, excluding the curly bangs on either side of her face. The emissary took in the entirety of the diminutive village with an impassive face. She stepped forward, her sandals did nothing to quiet her footsteps, that echoed all along the main road.
“As agreed long ago, one-half year has passed.” her voice shook the very walls of the tiny wooden houses before her. “I have come from Thylara to collect the offering.”
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Running through the forest at this time of night was nothing short of foolish. One was never sure of the predators that would be roaming after dark, scouring for a late meal. The young boy, however, would soon face a wolf or a bear, than one of the visitors. He ran to the only place he knew for sure was safe. The trek was long, and the path confusing, but he had travelled this way enough times to remember the twists and turns to take. Eventually he emerged from the thick woods into a small clearing. At the center of the open ground stood a lone house. It wasn’t very big, not compared to the houses of the village, but a sturdy piece of wood work. Two wooden poles stood erect and to the side, animal pelts hung from the line strung between them. Light could be faintly seen from the dark curtains in the windows. The boy quietly made his way up to the doorstep of the hut and knocked as softly as possible. After an anxious few seconds, the door cracked open, a vertical slash of light broke into the darkness of the woods, and a suspicious eye looked outside.
“Tayell!” came a gruff voice. The door was opened halfway, revealing a tall, rough looking man. “What in embers are you doing here? You know what tonight is.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Tayell sheepishly answered. “I couldn’t be there! I couldn’t watch- . . . . . . .”
The man in the doorway understood at once. Without hesitation he threw open his door and took the boy inside. The hut inside was as big as one would expect, which is to say it was quite small. The kitchen, the table, and the lounge all occupied the same, large room. The only other separate room in the house was the single bedroom in the back of the hut. The man sat his young guest down in the only lounging chair in the hut. He’d just put on some tea, and there was only enough water for a single cup. He poured it all into one for the boy.
And here I was thinking that I wouldn’t get drunk tonight, he thought as he opened for himself a bottle of strong whisky. He took the drinks over by the fireplace, gave the tea to Tayell, and sat down in a plain wooden chair.
“Are you ok?” he asked him.
Tayell sipped at his tea and gazed blankly into the fire. “He told me not to cry for him. I’m trying. For his sake I’m trying so hard but . . . .” His voice broke as he wiped at his eyes with a sleeve.
“It’s ok to cry Tayell,” he answered. “It means you love your brother. No one can say there’s anything wrong with that.”
Tayell nodded as he set the tea aside and began to weep. He wept for a few minutes as his host sat their in silence and sipped his whisky. When the boy had settled down a little, the man handed him the bottle of whisky. Tayell took it gingerly and swallowed a sip.
“Does it ever help, Gaelin?” he asked, handing the bottle back.
“It never helps,” Gaelin admitted as he took a bigger swig.
“Then why do you drink it?”
“Because I’m not a man you should ever strive to be like.” he replied solemnly.
Tayell was quiet for a few moments. Then he spoke, “They’ve been talking about you back at the village. Lyal’s been sayin’ that you should be the next offering. People agree.”
Gaelin snorted. “What do you think?”
“I won’t tell them where you live.” he said without hesitation. “Not after what you’ve done for me.”
He nodded. “Appreciate that.”
Tayell stopped talking as he drank more of his tea. “W-what will . . . . what will happen to him? Will they hurt him?”
He blew out a long breath. “I don’t know.”
Tayell accepted that answer, as it was the only one he had as well. “There’s a rumor that you killed one of them once. A Titan. All by yourself.”
Gaelin didn’t even smile at the remark. “You’ve seen a Titan, right?”
He nodded.
“Then how do you expect any lone man to kill one those?” he asked.
Tayell leaned back in the chair, looking deflated by the conclusion he’d drawn.
“I know that wasn’t the answer you were looking for, sorry. But do yourself a favor and let go of it.” Gaelin urged. “Forget all thoughts of blood and revenge. Focus your energy on healing your wounds. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself, and everyone around you.”
Tayell let his head fall as new tears began to flow forth. He sniffed. “You know, for a guy I’m not supposed to be like, you’re pretty wise.”
This time a smile did grace his lips, however small. “Only wise enough to know I’m not a good man.”
“I don’t believe that,” the boy challenged. Gaelin shrugged. They both sat like that for a little while longer, neither saying much of anything.
“It’s getting late,” Gaelin said at last. “You should be home. I’ll walk you there.”
“You don’t have to,” Tayell insisted. “I know my way back, even in the dark.”
“And if a wolf should also happen to know the way?” he asked.
Tayell sighed. Gaelin slipped on his coat, tucked a knife into his belt, and escorted the boy of only thirteen winters outside. He took them both through the woods until they had reached the very edge and could see the village. From their Tayell proceeded home, and Gaelin returned to his hut to finish off that bottle of whisky alone.