Chapter 9

The man sitting in the field was reasonably well dressed for a vagabond. It was almost as if the lighting and proximity influenced whether you saw a pheasant or just someone who had just come a great distance. He had occupied this space for about a month. He could see the forest in one direction. The city wall in the other direction. He was just beyond the best archer’s range. The entirety of his belongings were with him. A tent, a chest with anything a human might want, and a stool. He rarely sat on the stool. A wooden bowl was on the stool, and he would sit on the ground and eat from his bowl. He ate charity, which came from the earth or the city. Most of his day was spent reading from his book, reading the terrain, or meditating.

A month without being harassed was his personal best. The eight people who gathered around his campsite as he ate his morning breakfast were clearly meaning harm. If their intent was to just run him off, which was the usual business, they wouldn’t have surrounded him- they would have left avenue for escape. He stood, avoiding eye contact, but clearly aware of all of them. The earth filled his eyes, not a patch of blue to be found. He correctly gauged who was the leader and faced him. The man in charge was likely thirty. He, like the others, wore the tells of a street gang. Street gangs were not outlawed, but used as substitute militia in some cities.

“Ho, stranger,” the leader said. “I am Got.”

“Got,” the man said. “I am Bluester Airebrook”

“You made that up,” Got said.

“It is the name I accepted,” Bluester said.

“Some say you’re a knight. You have old tech,” Got said.

“Some say,” Bluester said.

“Do I smell bacon?” Got said, coming a little closer. “I thought you knights couldn’t eat meat? Religious thing with you?”

As Got stepped closer, someone from behind pitched a rock, hitting Bluester in the back. Bluester accepted the insult without comment.

“It is not a religious thing. I will not kill flesh to eat, but as a practicing Knight, I must accept with gratitude whatever is placed in my bowl,” Bluester said.

“What if I shit in your bowl?” Got said.

“I would kill you,” Bluester said.

Got stepped on a beetle and put it in the bowl. “Eat that.”

The beetle was badly injured, moving. In bug terms, death was imminent. Bluester picked it up, cupped it in his hands, brought it to his mouth, and gently blew. He opened his hands to reveal the beetle restored. It shed wings and flew away.

“I am confused,” Got said. “Are you a knight or a wizard?”

“Only the Seventh book makes a distinction,” Bluester said.

“I am going to be taking your tech,” Got said.

“It will not work for you,” Bluester said.

Bluester caught the next rock pitched. He dropped it. “Throw another, and I will sleep you.” He faced Got, who was a now little closer. “Son, I am concerned by your proximity. If you wish to travel, there are roads lined with fruit bearing trees. I am off the path.”

“Off the path. Is that code? Are you like a dark night?” Got said.

“I am neither dark nor light,” Bluester said.

“Ahh, you’re one of the rare ones? A gray?” Got said.

“A gay gray? Let’s fuck him,” came from one of the lackeys.

“There is only so much darkness one might bring, only so much light- at the apex of either, you are falling or rising,” Bluester said. “I walk in twilight, minimizing the curve.”

“Interesting. You have philosophy,” Got said.

“Everyone has a philosophy. Even now, you act in accordance to a way. A way that is likely to lead you directly to harm,” Bluester said.

“My understanding of it is, if I kill you, I can operate your tech,” Got said.

“That is a myth. You’re welcome to explore this. Hypothetically, assuming that position is accurate, you brought help- how will you know who kills me?” Bluester asked.

Bluester caught the next rock that was thrown, redirecting, adding momentum, knocking Got out. A wave of his hand and the person who threw the stone collapsed. He engaged one other, dropping him. The others fled. Bluester returned to his meal.

City guard arrived next. Bluester stood, and bowed his head in reverence.

“It is time you moved on, friend,” The Captain said.

“As you wish,” Bluester agreed.

A guard that was assigned to collect the bodies hesitated. “He’s alive.”

“I only schooled them,” Bluester said. His tent collapsed and folded itself. He opened the chest and placed the item inside. He rolled up his sleeping bag and placed it in the chest. He wiped his bowl clean with his shirt and placed it in the chest. He closed the chest and placed the stool on top of it. The legs of the stool retracted, and the seat locked into place upon the chest. The Captain came off his horse to get a closer look.

“How much can you fit in there?” someone asked.

“Enough,” Bluester said. Fully packed in no time, he turned back to the Captain. “I apologize for any trouble I have brought you.”

“Your kind do bring trouble,” the Captain agreed. “Never seen a knight that didn’t have legions of trouble following.”

“My fighting days are over,” Bluester said.

“I see,” the captain said.

“This was not a fight. They are children seeking education,” Bluester said.

“You still carry the Torch,” the Captain said, pointing to the object hanging from his belt.

“It is my companion till death,” Bluester said.

“So it still works,” the Captain said. “Show me.”

“No,” Bluester said.

Bluester started walking towards the forest. The Captain called out that he had left his chest. Bluester whistled. The chest rose into the air and followed at a slow, but steady pace. The guards lingered, waiting to verify he was truly departing. He was disappeared at the edge of the forest. It wasn’t that he disappeared into the forest, but that he was suddenly gone. No one saw it happen, he was just gone. They quickly forget about and went about reviving the unconscious.