Summer 1077 of the Mero's Calendar

The last weeks turned out to be exhausting with the building of multiple longhouses by the river. As promised, Suzir came by with tents and food, since they couldn't hunt or fish during that time. Still, the king can’t stop the suspicious feeling that it might be an excuse to keep an eye on them without blatantly doing it. Or maybe it is another attempt to slowly assimilate them. It had been the first time ever Nibotus and his people had eaten bread, after all, and it had tasted so good it's now difficult to criticize the Meros’ love for their agricultural fields. But the Kars are a stubborn bunch, and it would take more than three weeks of rations to suddenly make them change their true nature. 

Nonetheless, the help had been crucial. The Meros' military tents are spacious enough to walk inside without crouching, and the waxed and heavy fabric is strong enough to endure any type of wind and rain. Not only that, but the general’s presence had been a great deterrent against problematic Meros displeased by their new neighbors. That last part is absolutely ridiculous, since they had been given a forested land a good walking day away from the city, with the foliage keeping them out of sight from the closest fields. But by the freshly cut stumps that Nibotus had observed at their arrival, even before they started to clear their own trunks for building materials, it is clear that some pissed off lumberjacks might have been pushed out of their prime workplace. Not only that, but since their new village is south of the city, so upstream of the river, the water quality is better near them. Which means the Meros fishermen are angry too for losing their advantageous spot. 

- So the first ones refuse to let us borrow their axes to make quicker work, and the second ones refuse to teach us how to fish and construct boats after that tradition had been lost when we got chased from our lands.

- That is basically it, yes.

In a rare moment of human expression, Suzir sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose, a clear sign of exhaustion and exasperation. Nibotus could almost feel sorry for him, if it is not from the fact that the man is part of a nation entirely based on racism. He wouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense if they hadn’t decided to invade lands that weren't theirs in the first place. So the king doesn’t put a reassuring hand on the general’s shoulder like he would do for any of his tribe chiefs, and instead continues to follow Suzir’s steps along the paved streets of the city. He can vaguely remember being dragged on those same roads years ago, bloodied and chained like an animal ready to be slaughtered while civilians loudly celebrated his defeat. How strange now to walk by those stony houses with his head high and proud, right next to the most influential man of the province. Most Meros might stare daggers at him to act as an equal to their general, but Nibotus can’t deny enjoying the attention as he flashes them his most beautiful smile just to piss them off further.

- My people’ve used stone axes since the dawn of time, we can deal without ya fancy ones.

- The longer it will take your men to build their houses, the less time we will have to train them.

- Ya act like it's that southern emperor that's about to invade us, not the other way around. Do ya sleep at night, or are ya too scared he’ll jump from the shadow to attack ya?

There's the smallest of smiles at the corner of the general's lips, something that could almost pass for amusement despite the tiredness. Nibotus has been pretty good at spotting those micro expressions, but it still puts him on edge. It's baffling how Meros are so brash with their negative emotions, but so secretive with every positive one, as if it would kill them to show the simple bits of joy or affection. Which makes the general's behavior even more suspicious, because Nibotus had never seen him lose his temper, or even just healthily rant about any irritation in his life. So who knows what might be boiling under the surface? But at the same time, Nibotus could swear that it's genuine worries that made the general enquire about his state of mind. Or that Suzir seems to truly enjoy his snarky remarks, even if he doesn't really have proof to validate this intuition. 

- I will order a dozen new axes to be ready for tomorrow when I accompany you back to your village.

- As if there's not enough workers hatin my guts already.

- Our blacksmiths are no strangers to heavy loads of work. They will not have to toil all night to finish such a small command in time. As for our second problem, I can always look for some encyclopedias on the subject of fishing. This city’s library might not be as impressive as the one of the capital, but it is of substantial size. It could be worth the sacrifice of another night of sleep. 

Was that an attempt at humor? It looks like it, at the subtle glance the man is giving him, as if trying to have the briefest bond of complicity before going back to their expected roles of barely tolerating each other for the good of their respective people. Puzzled, Nibotus can’t stop himself from cocking his head to the side, staring at the general for the confusing mystery that he is. The king can understand Suzir wanting to protect his reputation, but then why not go all the way and keep their relationship strictly distant and professional? What's with all those subtle attempts at friendship, as if craving for it but too scared to let all his guards down? Nibotus might go back again and again to the conclusion that it could be some act of manipulation, but the more things go, the more it rings wrong. Is the life of a senator so lonely it forces him to reach out to old enemies instead of his own men?

Nibotus quickly gets his response the moment they enter into the courtyard leading to Suzir’s office. There’s a man standing near the flight of stairs leading to the front door of the imposing stone building. Despite carrying his helmet in the crook of his elbow, he’s slowly cooking into his cuirass under the sun’s rays, and constantly wipes his sweaty forehead with a flap of his green cape. The moment his eyes fall on the two men, he joins them in great strides with a clearly irritated expression, his leather boots clapping loudly on the grey pavement. But despite the soldier coming at them like a raging bull, Suzir simply stops in his steps, patiently waiting with the utmost indifference. So Nibotus copies him, feigning the same calm as his entire mind screams to move into a defensive posture, the recent battles still clawing at his survival instincts. To his relief, the man stops right in front of them, doing the military salute instead of brandishing his sword, but his glaring eyes show his profound displeasure of the Kar’s presence.

- King Nibotus, this is prefect Sulukor, the man responsible for the training of our soldiers. He will be the instructor of your warriors until we are called to the battlefield. 

The Kar simply nods in acknowledgment, unaware of the Meros’ protocol for meeting new people, especially ones that look ready to strangle him in a heartbeat. If it had been a fellow tribesman, he would have pulled him into a bear hug and given him some hard back slaps, a warning to not mess with an equally strong warrior but still a warm greeting nonetheless. In this case, though, that gesture would have been anything but welcomed, and Nibotus is not stupid enough to risk it. As he’s trying to find something polite to say, the prefect suddenly huff, haughty and disdainful, as he gestures to the king’s blond hair with a flick of his chin.

- You and your people will have to cut that short before we start training. Keeping it long is a hazard in close combat. 

It takes an impressive effort of self-control from Nibotus to not connect his fist to the jaw of the officer right in this instant. His entire body tenses, eyes storming in anger as his voice lowers into a growl. 

- No. It's a road for the spirits to enter our body during our fightin trance. It’ll stay. 

The prefect smirks at this, hate distorting his face in ugly manners. But Nibotus knows how intimidation works, and doesn't even glance at the sword sheathed at the man's waist. There's lots of emotions Kars are willing to show, but for strangers, fear is not one of them. 

- Do not take us for idiots. You seriously think we would believe that lie, with half your head shaved? Who cares about spirits anyway, as if beasts know anything about wielding a gladius or a spear.

- Listen here, my men'll learn about tactical formations and nothin more. Weapons aren't our ways, and we'll never…

There's suddenly fingers around his neck, and they squeeze hard as Nibotus is yanked down at the prefect's face. The man is red with anger, frothing at the mouth like a rabid fox, and the king is so stupefied by his audacity that he doesn't even think about defending himself. 

- How dare you talk back to me, you low life animal!

So he's really an idiot, got it. In a swift motion, Nibotus grabs the strangling hand by its weakness, the pinky finger, and twists in the opposite direction with all his strength. And since he had three full meals every day for the past weeks, and worked hard cutting and moving wood around, he had gained even more muscle mass for it to be effective. Used to swirl his weapons around rather than wrestling with his bare hands, the prefect folds immediately, his body subconsciously following the movement so his elbow and shoulder wouldn't dislocate. The result is a man with one knee on the ground, arm painfully stretched behind his back, immobilised with minimal pressure by a clearly amused Kar. 

- Let him go.

Oh, right, the general is still here. And at his glacial tone, he's royally pissed off. Well, it was about time he would show his true colors and favor his own men. Nibotus is not even angry at him for it, he has the same bias after all. And so he opens the hand holding the prefect, offering a wide grin to Suzir as he hears the satisfying clang of the man losing his balance and falling on the pavement. The general doesn't even deign looking back at him, his eyes fixed on the soldier scrambling back on his feet, face even redder by humiliation on top of rage. But as he's about to charge Nibotus again, with a hand on his sword's hilt this time, the sharp voice of the general cracks like a whip in their ears.

- Prefect Sulukor.

The soldier’s body physically stutters in place, confused to be stopped and almost tripping on its own feet. There’s a long second that stretches where no one moves or even breathes, and even though Nibotus hasn't let his confident facade slide, he can feel cold sweat running down his back. He hadn’t even realized how out of breath he is, because of course, he had been strangled not a minute ago, and there’s the adrenaline that still hammers in his eardrums under his nonchalance. Never would he have been able to enter a fighting trance by the time that blade would have been unsheathed. If Suzir hadn’t intervened, things would have gone ugly pretty fast for him. 

- Care to explain why I just saw you attempt on the life of a senator?

Nibotus struggles to glance back to the general, so used at staying focused on such a clear potential threat. But if he’s to be so blatantly accused of attacking a high ranking Mero when all he did was in self defense, then of course he will retort without breaking eye contact. Only to realize that Suzir is not looking at him, oh no. He’s staring right at the prefect with such murderous intent behind his seemingly calm stature, it’s almost radiating from his tense body. And then it clicks in Nibotus’ mind. Right, he’s… He’s the senator in question. Him. Nibotus the Kar. General under the emperor, and representative of his people in the senate. It never even occurred to him he had in fact the power to interfere in the laws of the empire, if he ever wanted to do so. Not like the other senators would let him do it anyway, they would probably vote in great numbers against anything he would suggest, but… he had that opportunity, still. He had that title. The realization falls on the soldier at the same time, because he suddenly pales as his eyes widen in shock, going from the general to the king back and forth in disbelief. His back straightens up, his fingers finally leave that damned hilt, but he’s not quick enough to stammer excuses.

- Your title is revoked. You are no longer prefect under my command. 

- But…!

- You have until the end of this month to leave the province of Gal. Be glad for this mercy, the law would have you executed.

It is enough for the man to promptly bow, pick up the helmet previously dropped on the ground, and get out of the courtyard without a glance back. It’s only after he had disappeared from view that Suzir relaxes back to that straight, but effortless stance Nibotus is more accustomed to when he visits the Kars’ village. The piercing hardness of his green eyes mellows into something akin to sadness, even. 

- You were right, I should have guessed that this training idea would be a disaster. My apologies, there might have been a foolish hope from my part to see our soldiers get closer. How is your throat? Do you need assistance from a healer?

- It’s good, don’t worry bout it. 

Nibotus jolts when Suzir’s hand suddenly pat his shoulder in a mark of camaraderie. The general immediately stops in his motion, embarrassed, and this time, the king kind of feels pity for him. It’s surreal to concede that there might be at least one good person in the Mero empire. That their unnatural culture couldn’t kill all the empathy of this one lonely heart.

- I hate to admit this, but Sulukor did raise a point... How does your hair have to be long on the top of your head, but shaved for the rest?

- If there’s too many roads in front of ya, how can ya know which one will take ya to the right place? Can’t get a good connection if a spirit enters by your temples or the back of ya head, ya know?

- That… strangely makes sense.

- Not strange if that's how it works. 

Another bright smile, responded by another small one. Still, those ones feel different. More honest. Genuine. Maybe Nibotus shouldn't feel at ease. Maybe he should let his ego talk and be offended that the prefect didn't meet justice because he'd acted on a Kar instead of a Mero. But at the same time, he understands too well that's the best Suzir can do without risking a civil uprising.

- Seeing as we just lost a prefect, there is one option left for us, if you do not mind. I could teach you our tactical maneuvers so that you can train your own soldiers.

- That sounds like a way better idea, actually.

Soon enough, Nibotus is drowned by Suzir’s monotone voice about plans of studies, and how to fit all this into his already busy schedule, but he doesn’t mind anymore. Now, after seeing how cold the general could really be, this almost felt like the first warm days of spring.