Beliefs

[Zerrif]

Muarim awoke in the middle of the night, to some mumblings in the dark. When had he fallen asleep? He was supposed to be the last one on watch, and now--

"He...Heal!" He heard Gerik said, his voice sounding slightly strained. Muarim heaved out a groan as he shifted to sit up, startling the Acolyte. "O-Oh... Muar, it's okay, go back to sleep. I'll stay up... I'm not finished tending to everyone." Gerik said. The Merchant then noticed that he was knelt besides Sinadrin, the Mage all wrapped up to the side.

"Don't forget to get some rest too." Muarim mumbled, before he lay back down on his side. Gerik smiled lightly in the dark, though his face was showing visible strain already. He just turned his gaze back to the resting Blacksmith, and raised his hands.

"Heal!"

---

"Mistress, what's--"

"It's a good luck charm. Just keep it." Outstretched from the Priestess' hand was a small leaf, though the main stem of it was hollowed out to make a sort of whistle. "If you're ever in trouble, whistle that. It's said that help will come to you if you blow."

"But... won't you always be there? Or the Master?"

"Not always. You have to learn to stand on your own two feet. That doesn't mean you can't have help-- that's why that whistle is there. But you need to be able to do things for yourself at times."

"But I..."

"You're never alone, but you need to do things alone. Do you understand?" He didn't want to say no. Instead, he just nodded. "Don't worry. This is a vacation for you, isn't it? Some time off? Go have some fun."

---

"Gerik, are you feeling alright?" Muarim asked, as the group had begun walking through the forest. They were going rather slow and careful, wary of any further attacks or harassment from the DBF-- though there was no sign of them. The Acolyte in question was wobbling slightly, and constantly shaking his head as if he was dizzy. "You don't look too good."

"I-I'll be fine." He said, though his voice was slightly shaky. "I just stayed up the whole night healing, so I'm a little tired." Everyone looked amongst themselves with slightly worried looks, though they continued on. Still, there was tension in the air because they were being so cautious. "Besides... Payon's just a little further, right? I can--"

"Gerik you really, really don't look--" Muarim started, before what he feared, happened. The thump was barely audible, as the Acolyte keeled over-- first stopping himself on hands and knees, before he went face first into the ground. The Merchant ran up to him and dropped to his knees, propping Gerik up-- but he was already out like a light.

---

"What is this? Are you joking me?" A hand smacked away the tray that he was carrying, sending plates crashing down to the ground. The shatter rang through the rather large dining area, then the scraping of a chair. "You call this food? This is disgusting! You've ruined my dinner you little wretch, I hope you're happy. The only food you'll get tonight is what you can scrape off the ground."

He bit back a whine as the master of the estate stood up, and stormed out of the hall. Other servants came in, stared at the food, then stared at him. They didn't say anything, and just left him to clean up the mess that he'd made. He didn't really know what to do-- he was barely twelve, and already he was being deemed a failure.

"Why are you stupid, Muar?" He said, once they too had gone. He knelt down in front of the food, his stomach rumbling as he stared at the wasted scraps. "... You should not have tried to cook... you should not have tried to serve it..." His stomach rumbled louder, when he noticed two feet standing in front of the spilled food with him. He looked up to see one of the Head Maids smiling down at him, a small loaf of bread in her hands. "Miss--"

"Shhh, love come on." She said, holding out the bread. "It won't do the slaves any good if they starve, hm? Eat up, and come on. Let's get this cleaned up before the family comes to eat, hm?" He hesitated in taking the bread at first, though his stomach nearly roared and he snatched the bread, starting to devour it. The Head Maid just chuckled to herself, hands on her hips and shaking her head. "Really Muarim, what are we to do with you? Ever since you came into service... why, I don't know what you want to do."

"I just..." He said, amidst biting the bread. "I just wanna see people happy." He looked up at the Head Maid, smiling with crumbs on his mouth. "I'm sorry. Let's clean this up. I still have other chores to do around the Manse."

---

"Mmh..." Gerik groaned, his eyes opening to meet ceiling, and not ground. There was a weight on his body and he looked down his form, seeing Muarim asleep with his head across his stomach. He just grinned, reaching down and running his fingers through the Merchant's hair, which made him suddenly bolt upright.

"AAAH-- Sorry I'll--" Muarim started, though he stared around. He blinked a couple times, before he stared down at Gerik. "Uhh... dream, sorry." He blushed a little, and rubbed his eyes. "We're in Payon though. A group of Archers on their way back from hunting found us. Helped us bring you back, and now we're here." He said, standing up. "Bascht and D got the other room, though I think D went off to go do whatever he had do. We were

just waiting for you to get better, really, and then we were going to head out to the caves. "I... see." Gerik said, sitting himself up against the wall. The bed was in the very corner of a homely room, furnished but not extravagantly. It was more functional than it was for show, but he couldn't even care. "Where in Payon are we?"

"We're in the Archer Village. Just in front of the dungeon. I already went out and stocked up on everything that we'd possibly need. Seems the Kafra learned a new trick-- they were able to warp my cart back with everything that was left in it. D's too. "As I said, we were just waiting on you. How're you feeling?"

Gerik raised his hand, placing his palm to his face. His vision was painfully sharp, and he had a major headache-- just the regular symptoms of someone who had extended themselves far beyond their mental capabilities. "I'm fine, I think. We'll be able to look around by the end of today." He said, looking back at the Merchant. He noticed,

behind the Merchant and against the wall, his Guard and Mace propped up against the wall, his Beloved Ninetail Egg beside it. He let out a small smile, and shifted in the bed. "Well if you're good and raring to go, let's see what we can do about a guide in the caves. I started asking around and it seems that the problem isn't so much a fluctuation of the numbers of undead, but moreso that the stronger ones are coming up to the surface, for some reason. It's just being a big problem for the newer adventurers, and there aren't many people able to police it." Muarim stood up and stretched his arms out wide; Gerik noticed then that the Merchant's hair was down. No longer in its regular ponytail, he noticed just how much he had, and how compact the ponytail had to be. It looked like a mane on a tiger or lion, rather than just hair.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. "Come in." Gerik said, and the door opened to reveal Bascht standing there. He already seemed geared and ready for adventure, as if he had been listening at the door. "Should we ask for a guide? I don't know if any of us know the caves real well." The Acolyte stated, as the Mage closed the door behind him, and walked in. "I heard that the dungeon is very much like a maze."

"That's what D said too." The masked flower piped in, coughing lightly behind his mask. "I took the liberty of asking if any of the Archers around here were able to guide us around, but no luck. Any that were free to help police the caves are already inside. We'll just have to get lucky, and hopefully meet up with one." He looked over at Muarim, and just nodded a greeting.

"Well, that settles it! Let's get going." Muarim clapped his hands together, smiling widely. "Boy, I can't wait to start restocking those guys in there-- I'm gonna make a fortune!"

---

"Double Strafing!" A cry echoed through the dimly lit caves, twin Holy Arrows flying through the darkness. They pierced their target at the very end of the passage, some sort of low groan heard before there was a thump. The Archer who fired hopped a few steps back, arrows jutting into the ground right where he'd been standing.

"Goddamn, archers now too? Where the hell are they all coming from? This is--" His ranting was cut off, as a loud roar echoed through the cavern. The arrows he had nocked dropped to the ground, and he blinked. A roar? And he knew that one so well...

But what was a Tendrillion doing in these caverns?