Talk at the Beach

It was very late into the night, but Remus still couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. His mind was ever racing with possibilities and responsibilities alike. The current state of the lands remained fixed at the back of his mind, breaking any attempt of ease in his thoughts. Would that time could flow with haste, for his work to continue the following day.

But alas, the quiet hours in Achia's embrace would not bend to his will. Accompanied by a small candle's flame, he finally stood up from his bed and moved over to a small table near the only window in the small room he had rented, sitting down on a not-so-balanced stool beside it.

Spread across the whole of the table was a map of the lands he now lived in, the whole of the south-eastern reaches of the Alteran continent, already outdated on its depiction of the city-states with the bloom of the Fourth Era, but each and every one of them vying for a seat of power on Sicherheit.

He was lost on whether it was surprising or unsurprising how just after a world-ending calamity people would go right back to fighting each other for power. For a moment, he wondered whether that mystery alone was worth a lifetime’s study.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes that had never truly closed and looked down at the map again. Cups, mugs, and borrowed utensils stood where armies, houses, and ambitions now pressed against one another.

The Thornes, a hearty mug at the north-western reach of the region on their new fortress, Ava's right hand during the crusades. The Marburgs of Lowe, the chalice near the centre of the map, all with great sway in this new era. Powerful allies as well as dreaded enemies. And the candle that lit the whole map: Arden von Stahl, sat right on top of the capital.

Remus could see the desire in Arden for peace, with his many attempts at peace talks for proper division of land between the reputable families of the region, but how can one bring peace for those who lived centuries surrounded by war and the fear of the unknown? He knew that it would take time, careful words and precise actions to even begin to chip away at the barriers people built for their survival. And Remus knew that he was the one to do it.

But answers wouldn't be handed to him on silver platters, and as the birds beckoned the rising of the sun, he also realised that they would not come to him that sleepless night either. Remus glanced at the window, allowing his ears to attune to the gentle sounds of the waves. The coast of Sicherheit was known for its beauty, even in such tumultuous times, so maybe a change of scenery could be beneficial to his cause.

Cautious as ever, he took the time to put on his trusty leather armour, taking the opportunity to dust off any smudges of dirt that caught his eye as he did. The very dimly lit room was no obstacle for him to find his sword, so he buckled it on his belt and headed to the door.

The faint violet hue of morning light already started to brush the skies, and the birds began their usual announcement of the dawn. The dirt road leading to the sea was quiet, other than the gusts of wind swaying the grass at the edges of the road. "Old Izette was right", Remus said to himself between deep breaths, "walking does help."

After several minutes, he left the road and followed a narrow trail down toward the water, one the locals had shown him with the quiet pride of people sharing a secret. That route would take him to a lesser-known and hopefully less crowded beach, since the fishermen were probably already heading to the waters at that time, and the absolute last thing Remus wanted at that point was to listen to their stories.

The trail did not seem quite as friendly in the pale light of dawn. What had once been a simple path now proved itself a narrow, winding thing of loose soil and exposed roots, more than happy to catch his boots whenever his attention wandered. Had it been so long since he last went through it?

Twice he slipped, once he nearly fell, and more than a few low branches struck his face and shoulders with the familiarity of old rivals. By the time the trees began to thin, Remus was starting to reconsider the wisdom of trusting local shortcuts at all, and of the peacefulness of long walks. But then the last veil of brush parted before him, and the world opened into a small crescent of pale sand, white cliffs, and gentle silver waves beneath the waking sky.

The rest of the sensations soon followed. The calm, cold breeze brushed his face, carrying the scent of saltwater with it, and for a brief moment some old memory stirred softly enough to quiet down the thoughts that plagued him. He stood there, eyes closed, inhaling this newfound peace. A known rarity in the current age.

It was beautiful, quiet, and empty. Almost.

There was someone sitting at the waterline, letting the waves reach them and what Remus could parse out as equipment in the dim light. He did not want to interrupt them in whatever they were doing, so he just moved to a protruding rock on the beach and sat down.

At first, the waves and the gradient in the sky were enough to grab his attention, as he let his mind gently float through the many thoughts in his mind. For a moment, the weights he held weren't as heavy as he thought. It surprised him to be able to detach himself from the houses, the wars, the conflicts of the world in that one moment, as if the waves washed away all of those worries.

Just as he let his mind wander, so did his eyes, from the sea, to the waves, to the small fishing boats in the distance, and the skies themselves. And as the dawn grew closer, and the gloom allowed him to deduce more details from the scenery, he absentmindedly wandered his gaze towards the stranger.

The stranger's back was turned to Remus. Scars crossed their back in pale, uneven lines. Whoever they were, they were lean, but clearly strong. Maybe a fisherman, he thought to himself. Further from the water, folded over another rock, were the stranger's clothes, and what he could gather was a suit of leather armour just like his. Or a mercenary.

Wait, clothes? he thought. His eyes darted to the person again, the lavender skies now allowing more details to be seen, like the faint tint of red on the blue water. Oh Gods.

He quickly shot to his feet and turned away, and in doing so, his sword loudly grazed upon the rock. Fuck.

The person stood up and turned to him immediately, and when Remus looked back - just enough to make out if a blade was reaching for his throat or not - he saw the very frightened and justifiably angry woman's face. She stared at him with wide, furious eyes, her left arm drawn across her chest and a blade clenched in her right hand, and he quickly looked away again with his hands up.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. I didn't think you were... well-"

"Oh really?" She replied. "So what, you just sat down to enjoy the view?"

"Yes-" Remus caught himself. "I mean-" His shoulders slumped down.

"You're not helping, stranger." Remus could hear the sloshing sounds of steps out of the water, and getting eerily closer to him.

"Look, I came here to rest a bit after a long night. I didn't really care about you until I saw your clothes. I panicked." He felt the cold touch of metal on the side of his neck.

"Be very careful with what you say next."

Remus kept his eyes fixed on the pale sand ahead of him, his sleep-starved mind scrambling to figure out words. "I came here to think." He stopped himself. "Well, to not think, to be exact. I saw someone by the water and thought it'd be better not to disturb them. I did not see the full picture until I saw your clothes by those rocks." He was met with silence. "Then, I panicked."

"You expect me to believe you sat there out of politeness, then?"

"I expect you to believe I am very tired and apparently way less observant than I thought."

For a moment the waves were his only response.

"Your sword." She snapped.

Remus slowly lowered his left hand to the belt at his side.

"Slowly, asshole." and the blade's cold touch sharpened on his skin.

"Trying to."

He unfastened the scabbard and let the sword fall to the sand with a dull thud.

"And the knife."

"No knives here."

An even closer press on the blade.

"I am beginning to dislike how you answer things so poorly." She hissed.

"Starting to notice the same problem, ma'am."

A sharp breath escaped her, almost a laugh, though there was no warmth to it. "Hands up again."

He did as asked.

The pressure at his neck eased a bit, but not completely.

"Name." She said.

"Ludwig."

"Ludwig what?"

"Just Ludwig, for now."

"Convenient."

"Very much, actually."

Another silence. Then the blade left his neck.

"Don't you dare turn around."

He nodded. "I like my neck."

He heard steps back through the shallow water, then the scrape of leather and cloth being gathered from a rock. Remus kept his gaze fixed on the bushes and trees beyond the sand, noticing how the first light began to spill over the horizon and shone on their leaves.

"You always walk armed to quiet beaches, Just Ludwig?" She asked, the words broken by the rustle of cloth and leather.

"I could hardly call these quiet times."

"No." She said. "They are not." That answer was softer than the others, though not by much.

Remus dared a deep breath. "Are you wounded?"

The movement behind him stopped.

"Bold question for a man trying not to die."

"I saw blood in the water."

"You saw too much already."

"That much, yes."

An uncomfortable pause later, she sighed and continued clothing herself.

"Not all mine." She said at last.

"Hm." He nodded.

Another silence settled between them, broken only by the hush of waves and the rustle of cloth behind him.

"Not going to ask?"

"I want to."

"And why don't you?"

"As I said, I like my neck." He gave a small chuckle. "And my lack of sleep isn't really helping me a lot during this fine morning."

She let out a quiet scoff. This one was closer to amusement, though still no less guarded. "At least you catch on quick enough."

"I try."

Leather creaked behind him as she fastened something into place. "You can turn around now, Just Ludwig. Slowly."

Remus did as asked, careful to keep his hands where she could see them. The woman now stood a few paces away, dressed in a plain tunic and brown trousers, though her armour still lay scattered over the rock beside her. Her blade remained in hand, but at least it wasn't pointing at him anymore.

It was the first time he could clearly see her. She had very short blonde hair, and tired, battle-worn deep blue eyes that examined his every move. A scar ran diagonally from her neck down beneath the collar of her tunic.

"I can see you too, Just Ludwig." She squinted at him, and his gaze glued itself to her own.

"Sorry."

"You came here not to think," she said.

"I did."

"So what keeps a man from announcing himself before sitting near a stranger?"

"Maps." He replied, bluntly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Maps."

"Mostly maps. Some mugs. A cup, a few forks and knives and a very shitty candle."

She raised an eyebrow. "You sound like a madman."

"Very similar, come to think of it."

"And what did those cups and mugs tell you that brought you here?"

He looked at the sunrise. How the rays of sunlight scattered across the turmoil of waves, all reaching for the shore only to go back into the sea.

"That after the end of the world, people are still people. They wage wars, and are all very eager to slit each other's throats if it means more for them." He looked at her, and the moment their gaze met he knew he had fucked up again. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's ok." She remarked, emotionless. "Just don't think it takes a sleepless night to get to that conclusion."

"Oh no," Remus replied, "that part was easy. My problem was how to stop it." He could swear her grip on her sword softened a bit. "So I came here," he continued. "Someone told me that a good walk is often all you need to put your thoughts in order. She also said that a good view of the world is preferable when pondering life."

Her gaze turned to the sunrise and let out a sigh. "Sounds like sound advice."

A solemn, yet comfortable moment of silence between them came to be.

"These wars haven't been kind to you, I take it." Remus gently stated. He knew he was stepping near the blade again, though this time not the one in her hand.

Her eyes returned to him, sharp enough to make him regret the words before she even answered.

"They're not known for their kindness." Her words swelled with bottled anger.

"Indeed, they are not." He leaned on the rock behind him again, letting out a small groan. She took a step forward.

"And what gave it away? The blood?" She bit at him, and raised her chin. "These scars? Maybe this fucking bloodied sword? Who knows?" Her breaths hastened.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to pity you." He replied.

"Good." She turned away from him to get her leather armour.

"What I meant to say was that you look like someone who has protected more than she has been thanked for."

She turned back to him, and for a moment the anger in her eyes faltered. Something older than anger sat beneath it. Exhaustion, perhaps, or just the remains of poorly treated hope.

For one brief and painful moment, his mother came to mind.

But those words gave her pause.

"You know nothing about me, Just Ludwig." And she continued her motion to grab her vest.

"I seem to know very little about most things this morning."

"True."

"But I know the difference between someone who fights because they enjoy it and someone who wasn't given any other choice."

She stood up in a swift motion, hands tightly grasping at the blade whose point turned towards him. "Careful."

"I am trying to be."

"Try harder."

He lowered his gaze in acknowledgement. "Forgive me."

She said nothing. The waves rolled in behind her, thin and silver beneath the dawn. She didn't even realise, but she had been holding her breath, and with a long exhale, she lowered her blade once again. "Do you actually care to know?"

"I don't promise I'll remember much."

She chuckled. "Why the fuck did the gods bring you here, then?"

Remus quietly shrugged, his gaze now focused on the sunrise. She followed suit, in a quiet moment of acknowledgement between them.

"I was raised to hold a line," she said at last. "Against the things that wanted us dead."

She shoved her blade into the sand, and stretched out her muscles for a moment to relieve her tension.

"Monsters that didn't ask for names, lands, banners, crowns or whatever else we kill for these days." She sat down on the sand. "They came, and we stood our ground. If we didn't, there wouldn't be anything left behind us."

Remus listened as she gathered her thoughts for a brief moment.

"And then the world ended," her voice was steady, but not untouched. "Or didn't end, I guess. Depends on who you ask. Our city's gates went silent and the great heroes declared peace." Her mouth twisted around the word. "And people who spent their lives huddled in behind their walls found out they had neighbours again. And they also remember that they fucking hate having neighbours."

Remus said nothing still as she slid her hand down the bloodied blade standing in front of her.

"I learned to use a blade to protect people," she said. "Now here I am, paid to point it at them."

The words struck deeper than he expected. Maybe it was because she said them without tears, without pleading, and without any desire to be comforted. He watched as she stood up and grabbed the sword once again before walking to the water.

"That's what I want to change." Remus finally replied.

She gave him a tired look before slouching down to plunge the blade under the water. "Of course it is." She said, while scrubbing the blood off with her hands.

"You doubt me."

"I'd doubt anyone who says that."

"Fair."

"No," she interjected. "Fair would be me not having to hear it anymore."

"It's normally dressed up in pretty words, I assume," he said. "That lure of hope that hides the greed."

She scoffed.

"May I indulge myself in explaining why?"

"At this point I'm just curious about how you made your own lure." She glanced at him, holding his gaze.

He almost smiled, but thought better of it. “Then I will not dress it in pretty words. I don't think peace can be wished into being, and I don't think a speech will make proud men gentle. And I certainly don't think the people of these lands will simply forget what fear taught them.”

Her eyes remained fixed on him.

“But I do think fear can be given a direction,” he continued. “I think strength can be given a purpose. If people only know how to hold a sword, then perhaps the answer is not to tear it from their hands.”

"It isn't?" She asked, doubt mixed with genuine curiosity.

“No.” Remus looked at the blade still in her grip. “As you noted, maybe the answer is just to teach them what it should be pointed at.”

She stopped her cleaning, raised the blade out of the water for a moment, and just stared at it.

"That is either truly noble," she remarked, "or very fucking stupid."

"Both often travel together in this world."

This time, the sound she made was closer to a laugh.

“You speak like someone who has never had to clean blood from his own weapon.”

“I have.”

“Not like this.”

“No,” Remus admitted. “Likely not like this.”

She seemed to appreciate that answer more than any denial he might have offered. She knelt where the waves could reach her and lowered the blade into the sea. The water curled around the steel, darkening as it pulled the last of the red from the edge. Remus frowned before he could stop himself.

"It rusts the blade, you know," he warned. "The salt."

"I know."

She did not remove the blade.

A wave broke against the shore, washing over her hand, her wrist, the steel. When it withdrew, it carried another faint thread of red back into the morning sea.

“Then why leave it there?”

“Because it is still dirty.”

“It will damage the blade.”

“Blood already did that.”

Remus stepped closer, though only by a pace. “A blade can be cleaned without being ruined.”

She raised her eyes to meet his, and the glimmer he had noticed before now shone wet beneath the dawn. “Can it?”

She refocused her gaze to the blade, before immersing it into the water again. "If I'm being honest, I wish it could do the same to me."

"Rust?" He gently asked.

"Clean."

Remus did not answer quickly. For once, he was glad of his tiredness.

The waves moved between them, curling around her knees and the blade in her hands, whispering over the steel as though the sea itself was trying to find an answer first.

"I don't know if just water can do that," he replied at last.

She looked at him, eyes still wet beneath the dawn. "Then your grand idea fails early."

"Most do."

"That supposed to comfort me?"

He stood up from leaning on the rock, and kneeled to grab his own sword from the sand. "It comforts me into trying, at least."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, searching for the lure beneath the words. If she found one, she did not say.

“Then what does clean a person?”

"I don't know."

She scoffed while wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She seemed to realise how much she had allowed into the open, so she tightened her jaw a bit and cleared her throat. “You admit that quite easily.”

"Won't prevent me from trying to find out." He stretched himself, and then focused on attaching the blade to his hip again. "But then again, I have had a quite humbling morning.”

He could swear that she blushed a bit.

“That you have.”

He glanced at the sword in the water, and then back to the horizon. “Maybe it starts with not leaving yourself in the salt longer than you must.”

She looked down at the blade. A wave broke against it, softer than the others, and when it withdrew the steel looked almost silver again.

"Is that it?"

"It's what I have for now."

“For a man trying to save the world, you carry very little certainty.” She remarked.

"Just enough to be troublesome."

That earned him small, tired but real chuckle of amusement.

"Troublesome does suit you better than just Ludwig."

“I was hoping Ludwig would improve with time.”

“It won’t.” She lifted the sword from the water, watching as the last drops fell from its edge. She then stood, not quite steady, but steadier than before.

“Elena,” she said.

Remus looked at her blankly.

"My name." she clarified, as though he had not understood. "Since we're exchanging names."

“Elena,” he repeated gently.

Her eyes narrowed, but not with anger this time. “Careful.”

"Hmm?" He blinked.

"Saying it like that." she walked towards the shore.

"Like what?"

She just glanced at him before continuing walking.

A faint warmth reached his face, which was deeply inconvenient, considering the cold morning air. “I didn't mean to-” he stopped himself before digging deeper.

“You seem to do a lot without meaning to.” Elena said, turning herself to face him again.

"Increasingly difficult to deny that."

She almost smiled.

Almost.

"So, Just Ludwig. It seems like you have a quest ahead of you."

"That I do."

"And quests tend to go very poorly when you don't have someone watching your back."

"I've heard that once or twice." He replied.

"It looks like you'll be needing my blade to accompany you in your endeavours, then."

He glanced at her for a moment. She was recomposed, focused, and that glimmer of hope now shined bright alongside the reflection of the rising sun in her eyes.

"Only if I can help show you where to point it to."

“Maybe one day,” she said, “When you become more than Just Ludwig.”

Remus held her gaze.

“One day."