The "vagabond minstrel" Giv managed to acquire a horse after escaping from the capital Ecbatana. Although he'd originally intended to purchase one from a farr in one of the nearby villages, he'd changed his plans upon hearing that the Lusitanian soldiers had taken all the sheep and livestock along with the food, and after crossing blades with a single Lusitanian soldier who seed to be a ssenger of so sort, ended up getting a horse for free. Following up on that, he'd kindly received a purse, along with a belt ornanted with gold: proper recompense for his considerable efforts or so Giv thought to himself.
For that one particular figure and Giv to cross paths afterwards could not be chalked down to re coincidence. If one wished to avoid running into Lusitanian soldiers while traveling, one was naturally limited in both timing and possible routes.
When their horses passed, both parties kept their distance, ready to draw blades at any mont a natural precaution. It was a half-moon night, and they were about seven to eight gaz away from each other, so Giv noticed nothing at first. Only when the direction of the wind changed and a feminine scent wafted to him on the night breeze did he realize that the other party was a woman disguised as a man. From atop his horse, Giv turned back to look.
Though her head was wrapped in silk, from the shadows unraveled a length of glossy jet black hair reaching all the way to her waist. Her eyes were a dark, vivid green, reminiscent of the verdant days of early sumr. That Giv could see this was because the woman had also glanced over her shoulder, albeit for an entirely different reason from his. The mont her gaze t Giv's, she urged her horse on and left him behind.
For quite so ti, Giv, half-dazed, watched the woman's retreating silhouette beneath the moonlight, but at last he clapped his knees.
"Yup, rare indeed, a fine woman like that. Way younger than that lying queen too."
Giv hurriedly cycled through various calculations. He now had an objective to act toward.
"That beauty's definitely going to be ambushed by scoundrels. If I co to her rescue, it'll only be natural for her to turn grateful and admiring. And then she'll be wanting to thank however she can, I think. That's how it should turn out. That would be nice. That better be how it turns out."
Having thus decided things in his own favor, Giv set his horse to follow behind the woman at an appropriate distance.
Before long, his chance arrived. Ever since the fall of the capital, Lusitanian soldiers had been running rampant, naturally growing more and more aggressive, gathering together in little bands to kill and loot. Duke Guiscard had posted ordinances warning against the harm of innocent citizens, but the policy was all too often unenforced.
The shadows of seven or eight riders appeared from the line of cypress trees, blocking the woman's path. They shouted at her in Lusitanian, utterly crude phrases, it seed.
The woman, looking irritated, kicked lightly at her horse's flanks. The horse seed to be very well trained. Understanding its rider's intent, it began to dash forward before the Lusitanian soldiers could even react. In the blink of an eye, the Lusitanians were left behind by about thirty gaz; by the ti they gave chase, the woman upon her horse had already drawn her bow taut, into the shape of a full moon.
In the next mont, the moonlight itself seed to form into an arrow and pierce the knight.
From his pierced throat gushed blood and a strangled cry as the knight toppled to the road below.
Having recovered from their montary shock, the other knights, hollering angrily and waving around their blades, closed in on the woman. No, they attempted to, rather, but the twang of the bow split through the night and yet another rider fell from his saddle through the air into a cloud of dust. Already another arrow had flown forth, and a third rider was lost.
"Can't let her go on like this."
Giv spurred his horse toward the road earlier than he had planned. If he dilly-dallied any longer, he'd lose the chance to earn that woman's gratitude.
The first of the Lusitanian soldiers who turned upon hearing the approach of hoofbeats beca his first victim.
The Lusitanian was cut open from his left shoulder to his chest with a single slice of Giv's blade. Screams and blood sprayed high toward the half moon, and the Lusitanian tumbled from his horse.
The appearance of a new enemy, and moreover one who could not be underestimated, drove the Lusitanian soldiers into a fright. They exchanged a flurry of words in a tongue Giv could not understand, then scattered left and right upon their horses with swords in hand.
Although they ant to close in on Giv from three directions, their intent was foiled by Giv's swift action. Fresh blood spouted forth in a crescent from the neck of one; another's head was snapped back from a blow to the nose.
The remaining two were no longer concerned with such things as honor. Without even turning back around, they spurred their horses down the road, escaping into the darkness beyond. Seeing them off with a cold smile, Giv glanced over his shoulder to receive a small shock of his own. For the woman too was already leaving the scene to continue down her way. This was completely different from what he'd predicted.
"Please wait, my lady!" he called after her. But perhaps she didn't hear, or perhaps she planned to ignore him, for the woman did not halt her horse's advance.
"Oh beautiful one!"
Though this ti he called out in a louder voice, the woman still did not react.
"Oh matchless beauty!"
For the first ti the woman paused. She glanced back at Giv unhurriedly. Her graceful profile, illuminated by the moon, carried an expression of utmost serenity.
"Were you calling for ?"
Even Giv was at a loss, and in that brief mont as he tried to settle on a response, the woman continued.
"To call beautiful is one thing, but there is no reason to call a matchless beauty"
Curiously enough, her matter-of-fact acknowledgnt of her own attractiveness was not at all off-putting. Giv, sohow or other, cheered up, as he could finally say sothing suitable to his personality.
"Nay, 'tis not just your pulchritude, your martial prowess as well is truly admirable. Giv I am nad, a wandering minstrel with no place to call ho; and in my appreciation for beauty, which surpasses even that of kings and nobles, do I take pride. Now, summoning forth my undernourished muse, I shall compose a verse in praise of your grace."
The woman did not respond.
"Your figure grows as slender as the cypress, with black hair cut from the night sky, eyes that glitter like the facets of an erald, and bewitching lips like rose petals touched with morning dew"
"You lack originality as a bard, don't you."
The woman spoke with cool indifference, and Giv scratched his head.
"Well, perhaps it is true I have yet to mature as a poet, but then again, my passion for beauty and justice would not lose even to the great poets of yore. For that very reason did I co to your rescue just now."
"Although I did find it rather convenient, did you not simply just bide your ti for the right mont?"
"How unfair of you to suspect so. My guardian deity, goddess Ashi, conferred her protection upon you and and wreaked well-deserved retribution upon those Lusitanian barbarians for their lack of faith. Should we not give praise to such divine justice?"
The woman's smile seed bitter. Giv inquired after her na, and she replied quite readily.
"My na is Farangis. I was engaged in service at a temple of Mithra in the Khuzestan region. The High Priestess dispatched as an envoy to the capital Ecbatana."
"Oh? Mithra! After Ashi, good old Mithra's the one I pay most respect to. My lady Farangis and I definitely share a unique bond of destiny, no mistaking it."
Giv's flippant words were completely ignored by the beautiful priestess.
"However, I have heard it said that the capital has already fallen. Not wishing to return in failure, I was thinking I must at least find so place to rest the night when those Lusitanian curs appeared."
"May I ask what business you have at the capital?"
"To locate the crown prince, His Highness Arslan. I have a single query to make of you: might the respectable Sir Minstrel possibly be aware of the whereabouts of His Royal Highness?"
"No, I am not However, if my lady Farangis ans to search, I can lend you my strength if you like. That said, why are you looking for His Highness Arslan anyway?"
"On the occasion of His Highness Arslan's birth, a donation was made to our temple under his honored na. For this reason, should His Highness ever find himself in need, from among those in service to the temple, one who has dedicated themselves to the martial arts must be sent to help him. Or so was written in the will of the previous High Priestess, who passed away this spring."
Farangis's black hair swayed as she shook her head.
"Those who leave such wills never consider what trouble they may cause for the people they leave behind. And so, from among those who t the requirents, it was I who was chosen; however, this was not only because my martial skill was the most excellent among theirs."
"What do you an?"
"A woman of talent, who like is graced with beauty and proficient in arts both scholarly and martial, shall be begrudged by her peers."
" I see."
"Using the fulfillnt of the deceased's will as an excuse, they chased away from the temple. I wonder if you understand, Sir Minstrel."
Though he did not doubt what Farangis had said, there was plenty of room left for Giv to use his imagination. Perhaps so lustful priest had approached her and received a harsh, ahem, rejection, making it awkward for her to remain at the temple. No matter how martially proficient she was, sending a lone woman on such a mission was simply far too dangerous.
"All the more reason, Lady Farangis, to just toss aside a duty you're so reluctant to uphold, don't you think?"
"No, no matter what, I do not approve of the ways of the Lusitanians. I may be an adherent of Mithra, but I feel no need to force my faith upon those who hate it. If they are to be chased out of Pars, I would like to join in."
Giv nodded forcefully.
"It is exactly as Lady Farangis says. I completely agree."
"re lip service, is that not?"
The raven-haired, green-eyed beauty's tone was filled with acrimony, but Giv's reply held no indication of such.
"No, it's not just lip service. The way those Lusitanians impose their god on other faiths doesn't sit well with either. For example, that'd be like claiming only won with golden hair and blue eyes and skin as pale as snow can be beautiful, while refusing to recognize other won as beauties. What sobody thinks is beautiful or what they feel is precious is up to every individual, and shouldn't be sothing that can be forced"
Giv cut short his fervent monologue. This was because he'd noticed that Farangis had shut her eyes and placed a thin little crystal flute at her lips. Though he couldn't hear anything at all, Giv gazed enchanted at her face, bathed in the light of the half moon, as white as Serican porcelain. Then, Farangis opened her eyes and removed the flute from her lips, and looked upon Giv as if considering him anew.
" Is that so? Then very well."
She spoke as if responding to so unheard voice.
"According to the jinn, it seems your loathing of the Lusitanians, at least, is no lie."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Perhaps so."
There was no civility in Farangis's voice.
"An infant hears the voices of people, but understands not the aning of their words. You are the sa. You hear the sound of the wind, and yet cannot even hope to comprehend the whispers it carries from the jinn."
"I get it, so I'm just a baby?"
"Your comprehension is lacking; it seems my example was a bad one. You are far too malicious to be an infant."
The little crystal flute was caught between Farangis's white fingers. A tool to call upon the jinn, perhaps.
"At any rate, it seems like you've acknowledged my sincerity. How about it, Lady Farangis? Generally speaking, every eting between one and another is brought about by a thread of fate. Personally, I'd like to travel with you, but"
"Do as you wish. Provided, however, that like , you pledge your loyalty to His Highness Arslan"
"My loyalty is a bit lacking, though for now I've got more than plenty for you, Lady Farangis."
"I have no need of your loyalty."
"Saying that's kinda cold, don't you think? Aren't my lady Farangis and I in a relationship now?"
"What relationship!?"
Farangis's raised voice swiftly silenced. Giv shut his mouth too and pricked up his ears. It was the sound of horses from sowhere unknown, beyond the poplar forest by the road. Surging into view upon the night road ca the silhouettes of a large cavalry troop riding hard from the direction of the capital, in numbers stretching completely across their field of vision.
"Those're the troops of Marzban Qaran."
Besides his, no other Parsian troops would hoist the Lusitanian flag at their fore.
The beautiful priestess muttered daringly as her gaze followed the thunderous hoofbeats and the clouds of dust fading into the distance under the moonlight.
"Perhaps soone among them knows His Highness Arslan's whereabouts. For that alone, I should go try and see"
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