Scars, Never Hidden

“Sir, we don’t know if he’ll make it,” the nurse exclaimed as she looked over Nemo’s bloody body. His facial expressions were completely blank, and despite his forehead being wrapped in bandages, they couldn’t prevent the constant pain his head felt. But, at that point, it was nothing compared to his legs. His commander shouted, “Do whatever it takes! I’m not gonna lose him!” He was clearly in distress, slamming his fist on a table and tearing up at the sight of his kin injured. “Do not go out on me,” he said sternly, as if it was a military order. Nemo merely stared off into the ceiling, on the verge of slipping into unconscience. A couple of doctors swarmed around him, one with a bowl of herbs and the others with a soldering rod, as they looked at the bottom end of the table, where two nurses held bandages. Then Nemo’s hand, which was clasping a ring, fell limp, and the piece of jewelry slipped out of his hands.
Nemo awoke atop the bed with sheets draped over his torso and legs. His commander sat in a chair next to him, staring at the floor with a horrified expression on his face. When he noticed that his wounded comrade was finally awake, he stood up and gently pushed him back into the pillows, saying, “Hey, it’s alright. Do you hear me? How are you feeling?” Nemo slowly nodded, then answered his final question with, “I feel fine. What happened?” “You blacked out. It’s been four days since that happened, and you’ve been healing fine. Well, for someone in your state.” Before he could respond, Nemo pulled the covers off of himself and looked down at his legs. Or what remained of them. There they sat, reduced to stumps right above the knee and wrapped in bandages that winded up to his waist. The rest of his body was donned in a long white shirt while his armor and sword sat on a chair to his right. His commander then remembered of the ring he dropped. “You might want this,” he said, handing back to Nemo. The wounded soldier looked at his ring, rereading the inscription on the band’s side: “Love everlasting”.
“Where is Filianore?”

Nemo awoke in his wheelchair, parked on his home’s balcony that overlooked the beach. Children played in the sand, searching for crabs and oysters, while their parent sat back under the shade of palm trees and conversed. The sea’s crystal blue waves rolled onto the shore, and they beckoned to him. He wished he still had his feet, not only to walk with, but to stick them into the soft sand, to feel the chilly seawater between his toes, to take walks across the shore with his beloved. He was home again, but life there was never the same as it was before. As Nemo sat and continued to reminisce of sensations he missed, Filianore joined him on the balcony. She leaned over his chair’s back, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him around his neck. “How are you feeling?” she asked. For a moment, Nemo looked off blankly, until he looked up at Filianore, shot her a genuine smile, and said, ”Good. How are the wedding plans?”
“Nearly finished. I just need the general who’ll preside over it,” she replied before she headed back inside to ruffle around a pile of letters in search of a particular note. “By the way, a courier came by with an official letter. Said it should be for your eyes only.” Filianore handed a scroll to Nemo. Its wax seal was marked with the insignia of the First Talon, a hawk’s claw with three of the four talons clipped off. He cracked the seal apart and unfurled the letter to reveal its contents. In the bottom right corner was the signature of General Erothus, one of the most hardened and celebrated soldiers in all of the Morcidus Empire. It was clearly important, especially if such a warrior was sending a personal letter to a random wounded soldier. The letter’s contents asked if Erothus could visit his home and talk for some time. Nemo felt honored to meet with the legendary soldier. He then rolled himself to a desk where a quill dipped in an ink jar to write a reply.
As he reached for the quill, his hand knocked the vial off the table. The glass shattered with a great crash, one that sounded like an ax cleaving into plate armor. His mind flashed back to the battlefield, to the bleak skies that hung over clashing steel and lakes of blood. He was lying on his back, atop the corpse of a comrade, where a Threllish soldier, donned in onyx and azure armor and wielding a jagged executioner’s sword, gripped Nemo’s boot. He raised his blade, and in response, Nemo screamed “NO! PLEASE!” at the top of his lungs as he dug his fingers into the dirt beneath him and attempted to drag himself away. Before he realized it was a memory, Nemo’s eyes flashed back to reality, where he tumbled out of his wheelchair and curled up into a ball, shaking with streaks of tears running down his face. Filianore heard his scream and ran back into the living room, only to see Nemo on the floor. “Filia, Filia, Filia,” he gently whispered, wide-eyed and staring off into the void. Filianore picked him up, sat down on the loveseat, and cradled him like a child, saying, “I’m here. It’s ok.” She kissed him on the forehead while they rocked back and forth. A gentle ocean breeze crept into the room through the open balcony doors, followed by the faint whisper of waves crashing onto the sandy beach. Nemo’s vivid trauma worried Filianore more than his impairment. How will our children react to a father who relives the same nightmare every day? Filianore pondered.
A sliver of abandonment entered her mind, the thought of breaking off their engagement. The idea wasn’t too cruel at first, as she would be free to do what she wanted to. No, I can’t do it, she argued with herself. He needs me. He needs someone to care.

A couple weeks passed, with not much activity around their home, minus the occasional local visiting and gifting handmade food, and a knock startled the couple as they rested on their balcony. Filianore opened the door to face a tall armored figure standing outside. The plates lining his body were more ornate that standard troop armor, with golden lines arching and winding in smooth curves atop a background of dark red. However, nearly all of Filianore’s attention was drawn towards his face, which was encased in a casted iron mask. Inside the openings for his eyes could his horrifically burned flesh be barely seen, and with his shroud of mystery as saturated as his shadow, he asked, “Is this the residence of Nemo Kendalus?” Filianore nodded and led him to the living room before she rolled Nemo back inside. “You’re General Erothus, I presume,” Nemo said, raising his hand forward for a handshake. With a genial tone, the general chuckled and then replied, “Well, mostly.” His hand nearly encompassed Nemo’s, and his hearty shake reinforced his kind aura. He then pulled a chair up and sat himself down in front of the couple. “It’s a pure honor to meet you, sir. May I ask how you knew of me?” Nemo asked. “Your commander came to me and requested that I visit you. He seemed very concerned for your well-being, and rightfully so.” Erothus leaned back into his chair before continuing, “I have a couple of things to discuss with both of you, and then something for just Nemo, if you don’t mind,” directing his statement towards Filia. “No, not at all,” she replied as she sat down on the loveseat near Nemo.
“First of all, I congratulate you on your engagement. Although such horrors would push away the average betrothed, your faith remains to be strong.” As he mentioned this, Filianore’s heart momentarily jumped inside her chest, and a sea of affirmation drowned her internally. Her choice to stay was right. “Yes. I think my love for Filianore kept me company during those days on the battlefield and in the doctor’s care,” Nemo added before he looked into Filianore’s soft green eyes. She looked back with a smile, then grabbed his hand, and pulled it towards herself. Erothus then grabbed their attention and spoke, “It came to my attention that you don’t have a General to preside over it. The only thing I will ever ask of you both is if I could do it.” Nemo quickly spouted, “Of course, Sir! It would make Filianore’s job easier, and we won’t have to ask General Gaius.” Erothus and Nemo openly laughed, while Filianore giggled quietly to the humorous thought of the ice-cold and very stern Gaius wedding a couple together. “He’d probably command you to be married and then say ‘It’s Imperial orders’,” Erothus continued with the joke. More laughter erupted from the group for a minute before they calmed down.
“Now, may I speak with Nemo for a second? He may tell you about it afterwards,” said Erothus to Filianore. She simply nodded, kissed Nemo on his cheek, and headed to their bedroom. When he heard the door creak shut, Erothus began. “I understand the pain you went through and the disabilities you have now. It’s hard, but know that you’re very lucky.” Nemo braced himself as the general untied the straps on the back of his mask and let the iron casing down. His face’s skin was a deep red with black charred patches lining all across it. There was no hair to be seen on his face or head, and his ears were shriveled up and nearly invisible. He looked more like a partially cremated and reanimated corpse than a respected general whose campaigns shaped the status of the war on Draemori’s southeastern coasts. “When my wife saw this,” Erothus said as he gestured towards his face, “she ran away with our children and divorced me. Know that war could not only cost your life, but also those you care about.” His tone immediately shifted from jovial to a hardened and broken man, and before this shift settled in, he put his mask back on and stood up from the chair. Nemo slumped back and hung his head in grief, believing that Erothus was done talking to him.
“However, your story does not have to end here.” Nemo then perked up from his moment of sorrow. “There’s a legend in New Fenris about a ‘miracle king’ who lives in the mountains. It’s been around for ages, and there’s proof to show that he grants those who find him with mighty gifts,” Erothus continued. Nemo then asked, “What about you? Will you visit this king too?” Through his steel mask, a laugh could be heard, one that spoke of days, even years gone by. “I’m far too molded by my scars. If they disappeared instantly, I’d no longer be ‘General Ironface’. I’d be Erothus.” The General then swooped down and knelt at the front of Nemo’s wheelchair, saying, “But your wounds don’t have to define you. There is hope for healing,” while he grabbed Nemo’s hand and clenched it into a fist and spouted, “Grab hold of it, and don’t let go.”
There was a pause, an ellipsis that allowed the thunder to growl and rumble. It began to pour rain onto the roof, with millions of tiny clinks audible through its metal frame. Erothus then stood up from his kneel, and Nemo asked, “When does this trip happen?” Erothus simply responded, “Whenever you want. Our guide for you is always on standby.” As he stepped back towards the door, there was another knock that could be heard. Erothus opened it to see a Ru-Visha standing under the house’s overhang, wiping his feathers off. He was fairly tall with a slender beak and his blue feathers were highlighted with speckles of white all along it. His tunic and the sash on his waist were grey with ornate trinkets pinned all over the place, but they were meticulously organized in columns and rows. He muttered with an almost regal tone, “Ah, Erothus! You’re here! Never thought you’d be visiting Ser Nemo on the same day I was.” Erothus looked back to Nemo, who leaned in his wheelchair to see who was at the door. “By Ranulos, we were just talking about you!” he exclaimed, which was follow by his signature hearty chuckle. Erothus then looked again at Nemo, with a questioning gesture of invitation. Nemo silently nodded, and Erothus swung the door wide open, letting the Ru-Visha inside. He approached Nemo with a beaming smile and shook his hand, saying, “Ser Nemo, I’ve been waiting for some time to meet you.” His talons gently gripped Nemo’s hand, but his shake was vigorous, and Nemo sensed that this Ru-Visha was a bit too outgoing for his tastes. “This is Jaoti. He was the village elder of Ka-Buta for some time. Now he’s a cartographer and our spokesperson to the Fenris.” Nemo nervously said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jaoti.” Still maintaining his joyous grin, he replied, “And I you.”
The gentle creak of a door in the back hallway alerted Nemo and his visitors to see Filianore peeking her head through to see a new face among the menagerie. She then slowly entered the room, and Jaoti, noticing her, approached Filia and shook her hand. “You must be Filianore,” he said while his rough handshake slightly startled her. Her expression showed that she was nervous, a bit more than her fiancé, but she put on a kindly and welcoming smile and replied, “Yes, I am.”
Jaoti turned to Nemo and jokingly whispered loudly, “You’re one lucky man. My wife doesn’t even smile at me.” The room then bursted into laughter once more, with the addition of a Ru-Visha’s humored warbling. As it died down, Erothus headed back to the door, with Jaoti in toe. “It’s been a lovely time. I should come by more often. This town is quaint,” he resolutely uttered. As they exited, Jaoti turned to the couple and said, “Whenever you’re ready, Ser Nemo, just send me a letter with a date.” Nemo made a solemn nod and, with Filianore, bid them farewell. The Kendalus house stilled with the absence of visitors, and to break the silence, Filianore asked, “So, when will you go?”
“Not right now. I’ll just wait here.... with you.”

Featured Lore: Morcidian, Morcidus Empire, Ru-Visha, Four Talons, @