Rosewater Oasis Almagest

Nikolaos was a man accustomed to chaos. When he rose wordlessly with the sun each day, he never knew where he would sleep next, or when, or with whom. He didn't know when he would take his first meal, or where duty would call him. He kept to this orderless routine as if commanded by the Gods.

And he did not let himself fall to feelings like despair.

Yet that was what tugged at him now as he slowed to a stop, glancing at @Euryalos. They'd gone ahead to find a safe path, as they often did, but Nikolaos was beginning to doubt that any such path existed. It was not safe here. It was hot and unforgiving. And soon he would become another burden to the group. He began to peel away the wrapping at his shoulder applied by the princess two days ago; it was poorly done and fell away easily. He exchanged a look with Euryalos, mouth twitching.

The sour smell of infection burst into the hot air. Nikolaos let his gaze linger over his ruined flesh, expressionless. Then he looked away. Ahead. Up there, He said, squinting at the ground beneath a cluster of tall trees. Water. He shot another glance at his pale companion and pushed ahead. Water meant they could camp for a time.

His eyes were on the distant horizon, appearing half bored as he scanned the landscape. Euryalos had perfected an air of disaffected boredom over much time, the countenance of a guard on a warm summer day, stood baking in their armor and too sleepy to care.

If you were too observant, you were clocked far too easily.

His eyes turned to his darker companion, unable to hide the wince as the sour smell of scored skin met his nostrils. He sneezed it back out, finally turning his head to look at Nikolaos. The princess was in obvious emotional turmoil when she had made the dressing but, he thought privately, what were they training their royals if they couldn’t even wrap a bandage? Euryalos had learned that skill when he was a youth of only one season. He licked his nose, feeling the drag of the taste buds across the sensitive pad.

Nikos pointed out water, and trudged ahead. Euryalos was helpless but to follow. His compass had never pointed to any truer north, he thought to himself. It was when they got closer to the water that he sped up, snapping his teeth over his companion’s ear to get his attention, then huffing shortly.

Wash it. Low and gruff, gravely with little use.

I will reapply the bandages. Another short huff.

Need to teach.

Nikolaos snorted and shook his head, but he was grinning. I remember the first time I saw a real wound, He began, feeling rather old as he realized how far off that memory was. Couldn't have been more than five months old - during the First Great War, were you in Myros for that? I was too young to fight. Saw this guy getting carried back, half his leg torn off. Crazy shit.

He shot another glance at Eury, stopping near the water to survey the area. Our princess wouldn't stand a chance, Nikolaos remarked dispassionately. Still, he was frowning. We'll have to fix that. Not sure I like the way that Roman looks at us. The rest, he left unspoken: that neither of them were leaders, that Andromache was perhaps an opportunity to shape their own kind of leader, and that Roman rule was in no way acceptable to Nikolaos.

No. I had not left the estate His tongue was looser with Nikolaos, his eyes softer. He never lost that outer shell, but it did soften.

I saw my first when I was three months. A pit fighter. He remembered the blood, the screaming and wailing. How the daughter of the master had seen and thrown up.

The master pitted him against a lion. It tore half his face from his skull. My mother and I were tasked to make him survive. A beat of silence.

He didn’t. Euryalos looked to Nikolaos with an incredulous look.

You mean to teach a royal to fight? He snorted out a noise that was half laugh. Good luck with that, old friend.