Page 8 of Null & Void

They are all wearing the tall leather boots and layered clothing of Nemoris, covered in various leather vests, straps and holsters. I’m sure they’d be an intimidating sight to someone else.

“Commander Cristoph Ofnemoris, this is Mika. Please accept my apologies for her tardiness. We were not expecting you so soon,” Jaena’s pleasant voice rings out while the rest of the five council members sit quietly in their seats on either side of her. Their apprentices stand like good little statues behind them, and I spot the sweaty man and curl my lip. He knows exactly who I am if he’s a council apprentice. It's odd that he was the one to deliver the message.

“Please, join us for refreshments,” Jaena asks, drawing my attention back to the Council President and her practiced smile.

“While we appreciate the offer of hospitality, ma’am, my companions and I are eager to get back on the road as our journey is already a long one,” Commander Cristoph says, and I try not to giggle. The tallest of the group, the giant man’s voice is so deep and gravelly that it sounds like two rocks scraping against each other, as though it takes real effort to speak.

“Understandable, Commander. We will not keep you any longer. Mika’s bags will be taken to your horses, but otherwise, there is nothing preventing you from departing. Commander Cristoph, Tovi, Riley, it’s been a pleasure. Good luck on your journey, and Divine blessings to you all.” Jaena’s friendly presidential persona can be so lovely when she turns it on, even if her offer for them to stay was empty.

With that, Jaena stands, and then so does the rest of the council, all filing out of the room, followed by their apprentices. Leaving me with the three living mountains. Not a look back, no attempt from Jaena at all to say goodbye. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.

“Well, she’s not any less terrifying the second time,” the slightly less giant of the two men—Riley—jokes as he folds his arms across his chest, the muscles of his forearms bare. His eyes now unabashedly take me in, and this time not just my bruised face.

He might be attractive if it didn’t look like he was constantly smirking or was in on a joke that he knew you weren’t. His heavy-lidded eyes, which are surveying me closely, hold an obscene amount of long, lush eyelashes the same color as his brows—a blood-red so dark they’re almost black. The hair on his head is only a shade lighter, slightly longer than mine with a definite wave and worn half up in a small bun. Quite the contrast to the commander’s fire-orange beard and shaved head.

I was clearly mistaken in my original assessment. All three are a minimum of six feet tall; the two men are definitely more than a foot taller than me and maybe a couple of feet wider too. All of them angle their heads down to look at me as I walk toward them, and an awkward silence descends.

One smirking, one grinning, and the other giving me a cold hard stare.

“So…I’m Mika,” I say, introducing myself redundantly.

The commander’s face—full of freckles—bursts into a grin as he claps me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off my feet. His pounding laugh echoes through the receiving hall. “Nice to have you, Mika!”

“You’re much smaller than we were expecting,” Riley says, and Tovi elbows him in the ribs. “What I mean to say is, hello, I’m Riley.”

Tovi rolls her eyes and heads for the door, without so much as a word of greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Riley. I can assure you that my stature has no bearing on my abilities.”

He nods as he starts backing toward the exit, a smile that turns into a smirk the longer he stares. “Oh, I’m sure. Especially if that bruise is anything to go by.”

The commander clears his throat and Riley spins around, jogging after Tovi before I can reply.

“Let me introduce you to your horse for the trip, Mika,” the commander offers, humor tinged in his voice.

“Meet Applemint,” the commander says with a flourish as he attaches my bags to a beautiful gray and brown dappled mare. “Oh, and before I forget, here are your pins.” He hands me five pins of varying sizes after digging into his pockets.

These pins are my ownership tags. They’re forest green triangles with my Patron number in gold. I must wear one at all times lest someone think I am a defector. I remove my violet, circular Osraed pin attached to my collar and replace it with the Nemoris one.

“Thank you, Commander Cristoph.”

“Woah,” he says as he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to need you to drop the formality, or this is going to be a long journey.” He puts his hand forward to shake mine. “You can call me Beans.”

I shake his outstretched hand, observing that my hand looks like a child’s in his enormous paw. “Beans?” Beans?

“That’s the one!” He turns and gives one final tug of tension to my bag straps, now attached to Applemint, before cheerily strolling off.

Applemint seizes my distraction and immediately starts nudging around my pockets.

“She’s looking for her namesake,” Tovi says. She pulls out a bag of applemints from her pocket, feeds the horse one, and hands me the rest.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling at her.

“Don’t feed her too many or she shits herself,” she says over her shoulder, walking off.

Cold. Everything about her screams it, even the stiff way she ties up her long and curly brunette hair, so shiny that even on this cloudy Osraed day, it reflects the light. Her features are all harsh lines, with nothing soft about her. Clearly a very fit woman, her Nemoris leathers do not hide her muscles or the curves of her full breasts and hips.

Riley crosses into my line of view, riding his horse and leading another almost identical one by the reins alongside him. Both are Nemoris cloud horses, gray in color with exceptionally full—but short and stumpy—tails, manes that are basically just a thick fuzz, and coarse hair that grows from knee joints down to their hooves.

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