the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Fennick listened to Demian with growing levels of alarm. The king seemed rather young, both to be a king and to dispense life advice like candy. He was under the impression that they were the same age, though that didn’t mean much in particular. He had wondered, for a while now, how one achieved the appearance of wisdom. He’d met many his own age who acted like they had seen the dawn of time. Fennick felt a little left out. He felt like an overgrown child. Of course, he had been in these lands long enough to know appearances could be deceiving. After all, his own father appeared to be a whale.
Fennick had to suppress a sigh. That explained so much.
While he felt like an overgrown child, he was rather large, even for an adult. It was one of the things he had going for him, brute strength. It would make him a credible member of the army. Of course, he was the type to apologize to a spider before crushing it, then changing his mind at the last moment and reluctantly let it go. Perhaps not so credible then. Fennick, tried to keep his mind on the conversation. It was difficult, not to curl in on yourself like a snail.
As per Demian’s insistence, he tried to imagine how he possibly could have come in at the right time.
“I…suppose, if you wish to look at it that way you could. There were several job vacancies available to a newcomer.” He cast Demian an assessing look. Then cracked a slow, self-conscious smile.
“Like king, for example.” Fennick couldn’t really be sure what he was doing. Was he trying to be rude? Like some sort or bizarre defense mechanism? Perhaps, but still, it was a little funny, so he let the smile remain, hesitant but triumphant, like a colt standing on wobbling legs. He listened to Demian with what he hoped was an impassive expression. The stallion was not wrong. There were benefits to being a good observer, yet Fennick lived too much in his head to do his eyes much justice. He shrugged dismissively, as if the idea had occurred to him but didn’t really appeal. Was it better to be disinclined or unfit? Either choice was perilous, and the real danger was to be both.
“It’s good that you’re the king then, and I’m just a solider. I’ve never been much of a storyteller I’m afraid.” Truly, he did not join the army to slack a bloodlust. Fighting was easy, or at least, could become easy. No amount of practice would teach him a verbal parry. Yet, even Fennick knew to get out of the way when someone was trying to crack him over the head. Demian, however, seemed rather suited to conversation, and Fennick was all the more glad of it. Some birds were made to fly and some were made to walk the earth. However, despite his insistence to the contrary, Fennick found himself drawn into the conversation.
“You find yourself all the more ambitious for kingship? What is there to aspire to? Surely you can only rule a single kingdom…” Fennick let himself trail off, for what did he know? There had been conquerors before. Anyway, it was not his problem.
“It is well enough. I’d like to stay and make myself useful.” It was about as much as could be gotten out of him. He didn’t know this place, but he did want to be useful. And there were things he could do. Fennick felt them nagging at the back of his mind, all the ways he could be useful, he just hadn’t discovered them yet.
Oh well, there was no avoiding it now.