Amstra

"Oh hell fuckin yeah. I’m so hungry I could eat a sand worm, the whole motherfucking thing. Let’s go somewhere we can sit down and eat some good ass food." Mordred raised a quizzical eyebrow as he led Amir out of the door and into the street once more.
"Those truly exist? I always thought they were nothing more than a myth. Surely there can't be enough sand for them to burrow well." After all, he reasoned, even the dirt gives way to stone if one digs deep enough.

The streets had calmed down a slight amount in their absence. It was just about the first hour past noon, judging on the sun as it peeked behind the clouds, which was the usual time most ate their midday meal. It made sense though that most would chose to either wait a little bit or eat a bit earlier, so as to avoid the crowding that sometimes happened around the more popular food business's. Still, he walked quickly through the crowd, focusing on picking his path in between the small clumps of people when the gaps formed. Most were too preoccupied with the shops around them to really notice the pair walking by.

"You know, this place isn’t too bad when Trytheus isn’t around to annoy the shit out of you." Mordred had to chuckle at that. Trytheus did have a certain way to rub people the wrong way with an almost unnatural skill. He had to wonder if it was the mans personality that caused it or he just held the kind of aura that made people feel generally uneasy and angry. It was like the man was angry bear, unpredictable and dangerous and not just a little irritating to try to placate.
"Us mortal folk do tend to be a little more amenable compared to the Riders, present company excluded of course. Its just that... Well, we've grown used to our own Rider being as he is that any others are viewed with a bit of suspicion when it turns out they don't act the same."

It didn't take much longer for the smells of gently cooking food to return pleasantly. Though it had taken them longer than if they had decided to go through the alleyways again, Mordred was reluctant to going through there again right now. He wasn't exactly sure if more fiends were lurking the shadows, nor would he be sure that he could simply deflect them this time. And though he didn't doubt Amirs fighting skill he wasn't exactly willing to risk a sword fight in such enclosed quarters if at all possible. He was however now at a crossroads at where to go to find food. It would be possible to find a good tavern, but he wasn't exactly in the mood for the stuffy air and overpowering smell of ale that followed every meal there. Instead that left him to decide which shop would work well enough, some places knew him and some didn't. Either group would work, but perhaps it would be good to demonstrate some proper wholesome Amstrian food to Amir that came from the simple folk rather than the cooks in the Keep. With his destination set he set his quick pace off once more, trusting Amir to be able to follow in good step.

They came up to the stone buildings where Mordred was sure he could find something good to eat. Customers usually tended to buy their food and then leave to eat elsewhere so he was fairly confident that they could get something to eat without waiting in a long line when he heard Amir behind.
"Has anyone tried to kidnap you before?"
He stopped dead in his tracks. Had anyone tried to kidnap him? No, of course not, that would be ridiculous wouldn't it?

He couldn't help but remembering his childhood. The last day of his childhood. His father had left earlier to go on a boar hunt, his father loved to hunt, the hall was lined with the heads of his kills that he loudly liked to boast about. Though Mordred couldn't remember the tales of the hunt his father had told him as a child, he remembered he always felt happy at his fathers happiness.

Ancestors he remembered it all.

---

"Mordred? Are you in here?" The young boy stilled a giggle as his nursemaid walked past his hiding spot behind a wicker basket. He had managed to slip away from her whilst she was looking out of a window and had spent the last ten minutes hiding from her. "Well if you're not in here I suppose I'll just have to have afternoon tea without you." His ears pricked up at the thought of not being able to have his beloved lemon cakes. That just wouldn't do!

"I'm here!" He cried, jumping out from behind the basket. The four year old boy had done a surprisingly good job of curling up into a ball so that he couldn't be seen. His nursemaid jumped back in mock surprise, a hand flying to her heart.
"My Mordred, you frightened me. I would never have found you there!" She moved quickly to pick the young boy up before he could scurry off again, eliciting a fit of giggles as he was lifted into the air. "Come on then. Lets find you some cakes then shall we?" The young boy bounced happily against the nursemaids chest at the sound of finally getting his cakes.

She carried him through the stone halls, spring light bleeding through the open castle windows that light up the stone in a wondrous yellow light. The young boy made a game of trying to grab the antlers of the heads that lined across the hall, actually managing to just about grasp the tip of one before his nursemaid caught what he was up to and stopped to see what exactly he was trying to grab over his shoulder. "Oh? What have you found there?" Turning to see the animals head mounted on the wall she smiled down at the boy in her arms. "What animal is that Mordred?"
"Is elk!" Mordred declared happily. The nursemaid looked down sternly at him.
"It is an elk, Mordred. Proper pronunciation is always important." The young boy nodded solemnly as he mouthed 'it is an' over and over.

The nursemaid carried the boy over to one of the wide window frames an sat against the stone sill. The castle that was the boys home sat atop a hill, in the middle of a huge woods, where trees sometimes reached as high as the castle walls themselves. If one looked very hard they could see the plains just beyond the edge of the treeline. Or they could look down where the trees were cut back from the walls and the huge track that was the main road up the gates of the castle and lose themselves in trying to watch the swaying of the branches. "Where do elk come from Mordred?"
"Out there! With the deer in the woods." The boy beamed up at his teacher.
"Very good, but you also find them out in the plains too. Deer are like us, they are happy wherever they are, as long as they are with their families." Mordred didn't really seem to take in the lesson as he looked out into the treeline, as though he was looking very hard to see if a herd of deer were looking back at him.
"Will I hunt deer one day?"
"I suppose you will, yes."
"I'm going to be the best hunter in the world!" Mordred declared happily. The nursemaid chuckled happily at the boys enthusiasm.
"I think your father may have to have words with you about that." The young boy didn't really know what to make of that so he returned to looking out of the window into the trees.

His eyes were suddenly drawn by a group of men riding fast towards the castle, with a wagon being pulled behind them. He recognised the pennon being flown by one of them as the banner of Mulasice, the banner of his home. The burning tree on a field of green was hoisted all around the castle that was home. He could see that the men didn't wear the shiny armour of the knights and instead wore simple browns and greens that could only mean it was his father, returning from the hunt he had departed on some day earlier
"Papa!" He called out, wriggling out of the nursemaids grip and speeding off down the halls, with the woman trying to give chase to young boy. Down the stone hall and down flights of twisting stairs until he came to a small door that opened out into the courtyard beyond.

The first thing he noticed as he exploded excitedly out was that he couldn't see his father. The men had arrived in the courtyard but everyone was clustered around the cart that had been following behind the party. He could see the group hurrying around then began to move towards the main doors of the castle, whilst he stood next to the door to one of the towers. He could see that in their midst that they were carrying someone. And as they got closer he could see that they were carrying his father. He didn't understand, he just looked like he was sleeping. But his face was pale and he was breathing fast and hard. Before he could hurry over to find out what was going on he felt his nursemaid snatch him up from behind, having finally caught up with him.
"Come away now Mordred, its time for your afternoon tea."
"Whats happened to papa? Is he alright?"
"He'll be fine. Come on now." She carried him inside once more.

The rest of the day passed with a sense like the air was holding its breath. Everyone moved with a nervous energy and people were often passing back and forth about the place with an uncertain look in their eye and quickness in their step. Mordred ate his evening meal alone that night, that never happened. The large seat at the table that was his fathers sat empty, whilst the smaller seat next to it was always empty. He had heard that that was his mothers seat, but he had never met his mother and didn't know exactly where she was. He had overheard some people whispering that she had passed away trying to give him to the world, but he didn't know what that meant either. Even some of the men who often wore shiny armour didn't eat with him.

That night he couldn't sleep. The way people were acting had left him restless and counting sheep was doing nothing to help him, so he decided to take a walk though the castle to try to tire himself out a bit. The castle was practically deserted and when he eventually did hear voices it was only two of them. He recognised one as Sir Mallisent, the man his father had called a 'master-at-arms' and Devon, the man who would sit on his fathers throne when his father was off hunting. He could just about make out what they were saying as he approached.

"-ou saw him in there. Don't tell me you think it's all going to go fine and dandy." The voice of Sir Mallisent. It sounded angry for some reason.
"I don't know! He has the kings blood in him, that must count for something." Devon sounded scared and confused.
"What good is that going to do him? How many men have you seen walk off being gored through the gut, Devon?"
"No many. But you don't know. It might be alright. We can't start to panic right now. After all, apothecary Casius said..."
"Never mind what the apothecary said, we still have to take precautions just in case. I have already sent a raven to the king. A contingent of knights will be here shortly."
"You've done what?! Sullest is still alive and you're already scheming up some plot?" It was here that Mordred, who had been leaning around the door frame of the room that the two men had been arguing in when Mallisent spotted his little face peering in.
"Mordred! What are you doing up? You should be abed!" He made a gesture and a guard who had been standing just out of sight emerged. The man smiled kindly to the little boy and made to pick up him.
"Come on now little one, Sir Mallisent is right. Lets get you back to bed."

The nervous air hung around for the next few days when it was broken suddenly by the arrival of strangers in the castle. The strange men rode in wearing shiney armour and held shields with a circle and a hammer painted on. Behind the men a covered carriage followed shortly behind. Mordred was brought not long after they had arrived. One of the men was talking to Sir Mallisent, who quickly concluded their conversation and strode over to the boy. He armoured man knelt down and smiled at the boy, but the boy couldn't help but notice the smile didn't really each the mans eyes.
"Hello there, Mordred. I am Lord Kalice, and I am here to take you to the capital. You're going to be the ward of the king, it's a very high honour thats only afforded to you because he is your spiritual ancestor. Did you know that?" The young boy gave a confused nod. He didn't like the man, he just felt... Wrong. All together alien to him, in the way he talked to the way his voice just held the underline sound of someone who gets whatever he wants no matter what he must do for it. Kalice stood up and placed a hand on the back of Mordreds head, guiding him over to the carriage. He looked back to the castle to see if he was doing the right thing. He would have bolted back there if he didn't see his nursemaid stood by the steps to the doors nodding him onwards. It looked like she was fighting back tears and he could feel them welling up inside himself. He didn't understand what was going on.

He was urged, fairly roughly inside the carriage. Thankfully Kalice didn't try to follow him inside and instead shut the door behind him, locking the latch so he could escape. He almost fell over as the carriage lurched forwards and he tried desperately to look out of the window as the castle fell away. As he was forced to leave his home behind.

He didn't understand why this was happening. And it wouldn't be for another ten years until he had the chance to return to his home.

---

Mordred felt a shuddering breath leave his lips. He quickly blinked away the sting in his eyes as tears threatened to form. His gaze slowly dropped to the sword at his hip, the last and only piece of his father that he had to remember him by. His father had died whilst he had been on the road to city. He hadn't even been able to return to say goodbye as his father was entombed. It took him ten years until he could finally say his farewells. Ten long years too late. But surely the men had taken him away for his own good. They had taken him to learn with the best, to be moulded into a steadfast knight and a protector of the people. They had taken him so that he could fulfil his duty to his name, his people, his eternal ancestor. Could anyone really call that kidnapping if it were done with such good intentions in mind?

"Yes." He answered weakly, he couldn't fail to hear just how pathetic and soft his voice was. He stepped inside the stone building quickly, trying to get away from the spot so the feelings of sorrow welling up in chest couldn't follow him. Luckily inside there were few people and it was light and airy, the smell of food thick and appealing. There were a few tables that sat next to the open windows and most of them sat empty. Nor was there a cue so Mordred could quickly place the order. He ordered a pair of pastries for himself and Amir, they were semi-circles of thick pastries with even thicker crusts around the curved edge. He knew from experience that they held thick cuts of choice beef ass well as cubes of turnips, potatoes and diced onion, somehow they even managed to contain a thick and rich gravy. Thankfully two such pastries were sitting waiting to be ordered so they were handed over to him on a pewter platter. Mordred made his way over to one of the table and placed the platter down on the side. On the walk from counter to table he had kept his eyes downcast, to the casual observer it would look like he was just making sure they didn't slide off the platter but if one paid close attention they could see his eyes were unfocused as he wrestled on the inner conflict in himself, trying to cast away the long held sadness that festered in his heart. He sat down at the table and looked down at the pastries, watching the steam rising off of them. "Careful." He muttered, his voice still not returned to its normal joyful tones. "They're hot. Best to let them cool a bit."

#b03f02
Mordred’s abrupt stop at the question had Amir’s guilt spiking. He had been hoping that the questioned would have been brushed off as Amir being an idiot, but he seemed to strike a chord within in Mordred. The boy stood frozen for a moment, his eyes distant as the replaying of an undoubtedly unpleasant memory was suddenly at the forefront of his mind. He watched as the boy came back from the memory an how he glanced down at the thin sword attached to his side. Mordred looked as though he was ready to cry.

“Yes.” Mor didn’t look at him as he entered the building and Amir shuffled in quietly behind him. He wasn’t good with sensitive situations, he didn’t know how to deal with deal, or how to say the right things to make someone feel better, or say anything at all. His voice had been soft, and shaky, and anything but ok. Clearly Amir had overstepped a red lined boundary that should not have been crossed. Even as they sat Mordred made no attempt to mask his inner turmoil. His words were void of the soft, comforting tone that he had used since meeting Amir. Despite how hungry he had been on their walk over, the boy suddenly found he had no appetite. The wasn’t sure what exactly to do, or how to go about trying to comfort Mordred.

“Amir, you can’t just stare at him like a half-witted moron. Please, do something other than look uncomfortable and try to fix this.” Hassan didn’t normally take up a tone of annoyance with him. Amir was used to being bossed around and being mother-henned by his beast, but rarely did the bird ever take a tone of agitation with him. The bird was probably angry that one of his stupid, half thought, comments finally had repercussions. He glanced up at Mordred, watching the boy as he stared blankly at the steam, he really had no idea how to break the tension. Hesitantly, the boy reached over a grabbed Mordred’s hand, squeezing it and meeting the boy’s eyes.

“Mor, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I’m just a fucking idiot. It's your eyes, blue eyes are the most valuable in the slave trade, and yours are the brightest I've ever seen. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He didn’t know if Mordred would even want Amir to do anything. The boy knew from personal experience that he himself preferred locking away the unpleasant memories and pretending they never happened, but that wasn’t the case for everyone. Others needed to confide in others when something troubled them, and hell, Amir probably should have done that with his own issues, but it was too late for that now. Instead, he held Mordred’s gaze with steely determination, if Mor did have a request for him he’d definitely do it.

Idiot. Compose yourself. Mordred berated himself as he sat across from Amir Acting sorry for yourself will not achieve anything. Worse you may drive him away. Get a grip. He blinked, holding his eyes shut for a moment, trying to bring himself back to his normal self. Nobody ever got anything done by being resentful of their childhood, and on top of that continuing as such would only sour the air between himself and Amir. So why was he acting like this? It could be possible that just the presence of a foreign entity was affecting him in unusual ways, or it could be a part of Amirs nature. He was more direct, more blunt and to the point than Mordred was used to. He held none of ulterior motives of the nobility. He was... Simpler than Amstra, he admired that.

His eyes shot open when he felt a gentle pressure on his hand. His heart gave an unusual flutter as he looked down to see Amir was holding his hand. Part of him wanted to just tear off his glove and actually feel the warmth of an others skin for the first time in far too many moons. It was like a craving in him to just reach out with his other hand and cusp Amirs in a similar gesture. And yet, at the same time part of him wanted to recoil, to hide himself away again and avoid the blond boys touch as best he could, he wasn't deserving of that tanned flesh anywhere near his. But he didn't do either, he wrestled away the desires of his heart and just let his hand stay there, held for just this brief moment underneath the black leather of his glove. His eyes were drawn back up to Amirs, where that same look of openness sat behind the veil of savagery. The same look he had seen in those brown pools back in the alleyway.

"Mor, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I’m just a fucking idiot. It's your eyes, blue eyes are the most valuable in the slave trade, and yours are the brightest I've ever seen. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
"Don't." Mordred smiled sadly, shaking his head. His voice had regained some of its familiar light again, he had to wonder how much was from his own attempt at recollecting himself and how much had been the sudden contact. "You couldn't have known, doubtless some would not consider it kidnap when the Order of the Forge comes to take you to learn at the heels of the king. No matter how unwilling you are to leave." He knew Amir wouldn't know exactly what he was talking about and he didn't much care, perhaps he would figure some parts out of his own initiative. But it was that part of the slave trade that caught his attention, such things had long been outlawed in Amstra, with great force at that. But Amir spoke of it as if he knew it personally. But he didn't have the air of the common bandit or merchant so it couldn't have been on the buyers side of the ordeal and he spoke with such familiarity of it that it seemed almost as if... It was a horrific idea to contemplate and he was afraid to ask about it. Some things were better left in the minds of long dead childhoods.
"There is one thing though. Tell me something, you speak with a... Fondness, a familiarity almost and a kindness that is rare found in Amstra. It is not often a person tells me that... Who I bed does not affect who I am, even the few who I have managed to convince to spend a night were not as kind with their words to say as such. But you, speak with conviction, pride almost, about the importance of its unimportant. Surely things cannot be so different in Gnaji that it is commonplace there for people to be allowed to pursue whoever they wish" He paused a moment, already regretting what he was about to say next. "Please, forgive me for assuming such things. But it sounds to me like you speak of such matters from the heart, out of experience of such things." It was the most tactile way he could think of asking after Amirs preference. And though he had to admit he admired Amirs looks, and they certainly were something unlike that in Amstra- blond hair and rich bronze skin was rare against the browns and blacks and light tans of summer especially compared to his own paler than normal skin, Amirs personality too was admirable in its plain and simple nature. But the fact he knew and understood so little about the blond boy intrigued him to no end that it seemed almost a drive to learn everything he could.

“Don’t. You couldn't have known, doubtless some would not consider it kidnap when the Order of the Forge comes to take you to learn at the heels of the king. No matter how unwilling you are to leave.” Amir felt the tension in his gut ebb slightly as Mordred assured him that he held no will will towards him because of the question. The statement did have him cocking his head to the side slightly in confusion, curious to what he could mean by it, but the boy didn’t push the subject further. There was no need to test the waters any farther then he already had, least he oversteps his boundaries once again.

Happy, he turned his attention to the meat pie that say before him. The smell was decadent, the steam rising from the filling had him drooling and he didn’t hesitate to start his decimation of the meal. As Mordred started speaking again Amir didn’t stop eating, but he did take the time to look up between bites to acknowledge he was listening. He felt himself raise an eyebrow as Mor questioned the differences in their cultures, and even Amir’s own preferences. He shoveled the last bite of the food into his mouth before he sat back, chewing in contemplation of the questions and how to answer them.

“So, this your round-a-bout way of asking if you have a chance of getting in my pants?” The boy gave a light, humorful laugh before continuing, “If you must know, I don’t have a preference, I’ll go to bed with anyone I fucking please, man or woman. That’s not the reason I’m was so adamant, it’s mostly Try… He is such a loud-mouth about being a good person or what not, but he personally saw to driving you into that self-hatred.” He sighed in frustration dipping his head for a moment and rubbing his temples in frustration.

“And your preference for men, it is unimportant. Gnaji as a region is the polar fucking opposite of Amstra. This region is large, but it is one central culture as a whole. Gnaji Town is one of two population hubs, but the permanent population is only around 2,000. The rest is the nomadic tribes and clans and Gnaji hosts hundreds, maybe even fucking thousands of unique cultures each with their own rules and customs. Many don’t condemn homosexuality, but uplift it, sometimes worship it. The same goes for tribes that honor those who believe they were born the wrong gender, and give them special titles and roles within a community. So, actually, yes, homosexuality is commonplace. Gnaji is absolutely different from Amstra socially and economically, you’d surprised. I think all the regions are though.”

Amir thought back to his time in Gnaji Town, he was a figure head as well as their strongest military force. His teachers had only focused on the skills they were supposed to be teaching, his social life and habits were never condemned or questioned. As long as he continued to go and manage The Cape properly he’d be allowed to do as he pleased. Which he had, and as customary of the Phoenix Rider when he turned ten he went into The Cape for the first time and took down a crime ring. Sure it might have been a lower level, small-time gang of thugs, but it had been the start of actually being the Phoenix Rider rather than just holding the name. It might have been a memory of battle, but image of Hassan healing him for the first time had the boy taking on a look of nostalgia, a soft smile on his lips.

"So, this your round-a-bout way of asking if you have a chance of getting in my pants?" Mordred tried a stammer out a denial but it was as though he mouth was gummed up and the words caught in his throat. That hadn't been his intention at all, surely Amir didn't think that was his entire intentions in the here and now surely? Had he soured it all with one stupid question? And yet, he almost missed noticing it, that Amir didn't say either way if Mordred did in indeed have any chance for anything. Was Amir playing with him? Trying to flounder him in some fashion?

It was his turn to eat now though as Amir talked. Unlike Amir who had simply torn through the entire pastry, Mordred held it at thickened crust around the curve and made very sure not to eat any of it, not that isn't bad or anything it was simply an odd tradition that the people tended to follow when eating such things. Hearing that Amir bedded both man and woman intrigued him, especially considering he seemed to do so of his own desires. Naturally there were men like himself who were forced to marry and father children but they never did so of their volition. It was a fascinating thought that Amirs simpler nature also affected his sexual life at that. But was he right about Trytheus? Had he drawn him down a path of self hatred? It was true that he was one of the more prominent figures in decrying him but he certainly wasn't the only one. Though perhaps he was right somewhere there, after all Trytheus was supposed to be the embodiment of justice and yet was angered when something that did not fall into his view of justice but was not in the realm of injustice sprung into view.

He listened intently to Amir talk about some of the culture in Gnaji. It seemed mind boggling that such a prominent population centre could only house such a small number of people. Even the smallest city in Amstra far exceeded that number. It was starting to put into perspective why exactly Amstra was called the kingdom of man, and he had to wonder just how many people lived outside of the kingdoms borders. It was certainly a frightening thought that so many could live in so small a land compared to how much was out there in the wider word.

Mordreds eyes widened when he heard that those like him were not just accepted, and could be considered commonplace but in places were revered by those around them. All his life this thing that had contributed to his being an outcast could have been the reverse in another place all together. To think, that in another life his skin could have been a rich tan instead of pale as milk. His clothing could have been loose robes of white instead of thick clothes and black. He could have been free to feel the touch of anothers skin against his, the warmth of another flesh under his hand without it being a secret and a hurried disgrace in the shadows. He could have been happy.

"I wish I could have born there." He admitted softly. He realised that whatever had caused his mouth to jam shut as it awkwardly tried to excuse itself had for the moment passed he knew he had to take the initiative before it returned. "I wasn't just trying to find out if I could bed you... I mean..." His eyes fell back down to where his hand rested on the side of the table, now that he had finished eating. He couldn't find the right words to express what he wanted to say without seeming a fool about it. His attention was drawn to the outside as he tried to say what was on his mind. "I did not want to cause any offence. It would be inappropriate of me to try to pursue a Rider anyway, we mortals are not meant for such things. It's just that..." He paused before looking back at Amir, back into those brown eyes that seemed so caring yet tried so very hard to hide it away, even from themselves. "You seem a better sort than many in this city. And I would very much like not to lose that."