Hazel lowered his knife, but kept it in his hand. He used his other hand to pull out a small book from his pocket.
Orion immediately backed away a bit. If she needed to use magic, she would.
“The fire is going to die soon,” Bas reminded as he crouched and gently blew at the spark that had been eating away at his tinder.
Orion and Hazel gathered the rest of the fuel for the fire that was needed and handed it over.
The fire was soon giving off a decent warmth, enough to toast some bread and turn some fresh snow to drinking water.
Bas stoked the fire once more, then looked to Hazel expectantly.
Hazel’s expression was initially uncomfortable, but that quickly crumpled into something darker. “I was orphaned during the war against the Hrea Empire.” He paused, making a visible effort to keep his feelings out of his narration. “My town had been burnt down. When I hid, I found a small tunnel that led to an old room. There was one thing in perfect condition: a small book that detailed little ritualistic spells like how to bring back and control the dead. I knew how to read and brought my town back from the dead.”
“How long ago was this?” Orion asked. She leaned forward, rocking on her heels. “Wait a fucking second. Hazel, how old are you?”
“Twenty four? Or Twenty six, perhaps.” Hazel seemed confused at the question.
Orion gasped upon that horrible revelation. “We’ve been traveling around with an old person.”
Bas shook his head initially, but that didn’t stop him from going along with it. “He’s a senior citizen.” He had his bow in his lap, and was using a stick to poke at the fire.
Tam nodded solemnly. “Ancient.” She was sitting back down on the rock she had chosen earlier.
“I’m old?” Hazel shot back in disbelief. He scoffed. “Okay then, infants.”
Bas smirked and nodded towards Hazel, mock-respectful. “As you say, wise elder.”
“Do you want my side of the story or not?” Hazel crossed his arms. The furrow between his eyebrows was back. “Tel Legen was leading his small army personally in those days. He always had many women around him, but would make time for me. He taught me a specific dialect of Tatasea, the one everyone speaks now. With some praise and advice here and there? I was doomed.”
It was known how Tel Legen was good at finding talent and luring them to his side. The problems arose later, when officials had no oversight and fell into corruption. Malamut’s internal instability was a growing tumor, about twenty five years old and rotting.
Sirius was standing guard by Orion. She had taken the threat seriously, and didn’t seem entirely sure why everything was back to normal now.
Orion scratched Sirius’ head, reassuring her. “Why doomed?” It was an interesting choice of words.
“Tel Legen started the Necromancer Corps. I was the one who came up with our motto.” Hazel was playing with his dagger, dragging it through the pebbles and dirt. There was an urge expressed in the motion, the type that made one wonder if he was picturing driving his blade through the chest of someone specific. “All of my initial undead, the ones I knew, had been battered and broken to pieces by then. Once I made the motto, I decided to only raise soldiers from their graves.”
Bas was wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around the grip of his bow. There was a frown on his face. “You were loyal the whole time weren’t you?”
“I was,” Hazel whispered. The admission just seemed to hurt him more.
“After the war, necromancy was outlawed. Everyone says that it was because of the Necromancer Corps,” Tam said it plainly, as if reciting from a book. Her expression showed how she truly felt, however. “Who betrayed you?”
“Tam, you would remember that the Hrea Empire, represented by the Crown Prince, and Tel Legen made a deal?” Hazel waited for her to nod and then continued, “Part of the terms of the treaty to end the war was that both sides would destroy their research to keep the other countries from having it. Malamut didn’t really have research. We just had a division of necromancers, my division. The one I joined as a genius, toy soldier for Tel Legen to use until I was too much of a fucking liability,” he spat. He let go of his knife, buried deep in the earth to wipe something from his eyes.
The others didn’t move to comfort him, but they moved their gaze elsewhere.
How do we know you’re not lying? That was something Orion thought, but she could not bring herself to say. There were a few reasons she wasn’t going to question it.
“Well?” Hazel demanded. “Any more questions?” His tone was brittle, an attempt at being strong and composed that only rang hollow. When he was truly confident, he sounded in control of himself.
Tam’s questions hadn’t ended. “That song you made up about the battle of Kardenay. You were there, weren’t you?”
“I was. The Empire gave its soldiers chainmail and they were unaware of where the Old Fid, the quicksand part of this swamp, was. Those that went forward in the dark soon died, and the others ran away.”
“People that were irreversibly changed by their decision to become a soldier—you were all thrown out for politics.” Bas’ face was scrunched together for a moment before his expression smoothed out. He looked furious, the kind that far surpassed the heat of the moment anger from his fight with Orion. “That motherfucking swine.”
“Exactly,” Hazel agreed with a shattered smile, the type made of broken glass to cut someone on. “He’s a bitch.”
There was a grim silence for a long time, broken only by melting snow dripping down from the cliff onto the road.
Tam shifted her feet, as one of them was falling asleep. “I read over the records of the past few years, as did Bas. Where do you hide the undead you rose?”
“They’re all at the bottoms of various swamps, deep in the mud.” Hazel gestured with his hands. He had put on his goggles, hiding his reddened eyes from sight. “It’s hard for them to be found that way. Once I came back from Ahan, I decided on how to hide them and swamps were the best option.”
Scorpion sat on Hazel’s leg. The pink bow around her was a bit wrinkled, but still in place.
Orion held up two figures, and ticked them down as she spoke. “First off, fuck you for making me a hostage. Second, who actually gave you that trumpet? Was it the same guy who taught you rock, paper, scissors?”
“Tel Legen commissioned the trumpet, gave me a pet named Scorpion, and taught me rock, paper, scissors.”
“You said the person who gave you your trumpet was dead,” Orion reminded.
Hazel’s expression was still broken glass, a smile that cut the unsuspecting. “Tel Legen is dead to me, and if he’s still alive to everyone else, I need to fix that.”
Orion wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement, but it was now that she was realizing she had indeed met another transmigrator. She just hadn’t thought it would be that slacker of a king. She wondered if she would have gone down the same road if she had successfully seduced that prince of Ahan. Although, that possibility no longer mattered—it hadn’t happened.
“I hoped that was the case actually,” Bas said.
The other three looked at him, curious.
A/N
Some more answers about Hazel here.
