Battle Hymn of the Republic

Gdańsk, Pomeranian Voivodeship
The Motława River Lodge
Two Weeks After Disturbing the Dust

Saturday had become Eryl Maelgwyn’s favorite day of the week, it was the day she made her visits to a particular friend. Each week as a Lodge Witch for hexers was hard work, but she always eagerly found her way to bed on Friday night. The following day, she would wake up early, prepare herself, a particular outfit, and ensure her hair was done a certain way. Usually she tried for something different each time.

Eryl stared into her mirror, carefully braiding her dark hair into a pair of side braids that she would fashion into a low bun. She had rarely worn her hair up like this, but so far she had exhausted all her options of more relaxed, flowing hairstyles. When she had finished, she found that she rather liked the look. It was less free, but it seemed to suit her prim features and high cheekbones.

There was a knock at her door.

“Right on time,” Eryl popped up from her spot at the dresser and went across her small office flat, gathering up a stack of documents. “One moment!”

Opening the door, she found another of the German hexers waiting for her. He had been part of a team she went out with earlier in the week, the same team that left her open for a Drude to flay her side. Despite the transgression, his face lit up when he saw her, with just smatterings of guilt.

“Danzig.” It was a name that abbreviated her infamous Witch of Gdańsk title into a sort of callsign that the hexers came to refer to her by.

“Stroheim,” Eryl gave the man his papers, “I have your information for the Alp. Make sure to read it through thoroughly this time before your team goes out again.”

Before she could close the door he piped up quickly.

“Th-thank you! You look nice today.”

The Witch of Gdańsk stared at him plain-faced, and he continued awkwardly, “Er… Danzig, I was wondering if you–...”

“I’m sorry, I’m already late for an appointment.”

“B-but, I was wonder–”

Eryl closed the door, and heard the familiar chorus of laughter that followed in the lodge after most interactions that took place at her door. That was the only official business remaining for the day. Regulars at the Motława River Lodge knew that Saturdays were booked and asking the Witch of Gdańsk for work on her special day off did not win you any points. In turn, she hastily gathered a couple of items into a little bag: a bottle of local pepper vodka and a jar of dried meats that she had carefully packaged.

Then, satisfied with herself, she stepped out the door and made her way out into the lodge and took the portal in the back of the building to the Gdańsk’s City Portal Chamber. After that, she flowed into a group of travelers and mystic commuters forming a steady line for the wide-portal to Warsaw’s International Portal Sanctum. There she waited ten or so minutes to step through customs and security, before making her way to a lengthy hall that linked to various countries around the world. She walked the familiar half-mile to the yawning gateway that led to Japan and scurried on through.

Tokyo was the first stop, as she would always come out at the International Portal Exchange Center there. After that it was a thankfully shorter walk to find the gate to Osaka, leading to the Itami Portal Chamber. Usually, this much cross-hopping in a mystic fashion would make one queasy in such a short amount of time, but Eryl had been able to boast a great amount of practice by this point.

Now came the challenge of public transportation. The triclops had learned just enough Japanese to read the signs and the ticket booths. She would get fares at the Hotarugaike Station and take the train from there to the nearest station she could land at her destination. She followed her phone at this point, as mundane transportation was often unreliable and chaotic. Yet, with some perseverance she would find herself at a quiet place that was strangely distant and tranquil from the world around it.

Jane’s farm.

By this point the seven-hour shift in time zones would wear off and Eryl could make herself just presentable enough to walk up the lane. Normally she’d wear her flowing coat and fitted shirt and pants. This time, she had taken to wearing a fresh set of expeditionary clothing that she would normally sport with her kit out on missions and hunts. It wasn't fancy, but repeated visits seemed to prove that the finery only made her feel out of place.

Jane had grown accustomed to her Saturday visitor. Truth be told, she could probably use more social activity than she experiencing. But she was a stubborn Texan and there was always work to do that served well as a convenient excuse. The last few months had also given her much new information to process. Many new plans were in development.

She was just finishing a cigarette when Eryl came into view around a bend in the dirt road. Jane stepped inside and returned by the time Eryl had reached the porch. Jane proffered a small smile and a glass of lemonade slick with condensation. "Evenin, wanderer," she greeted, taking in the outfit. Jane was in a matte black button-up despite the warmth and humidity of the day. Her jeans were a powerful blue and accented by her belt's gleaming silver buckle. Her hat and duster both hung inside.

Jane settled into her preferred rocker and sipped her own drink. "What can I do ye fer?" she asked. It was ritual by this point. She asked the same question every time Eryl visited, a sort of initiation to their regular conversations.

"I'd like to see the horses, but I think I'd like see you first."

The answer was always the same since Jane had welcomed her on her first visit, but it had not been any less true than the first time it was spoken. She took the glass of lemonade in both hands at the lip of the porch, and tipped the glass back greedily. The mixture felt just a bit saccharine for her taste, but it was very refreshing. It stymied the other disadvantage of portal travel, the swift shift in climates. Gdańsk was a delightfully cool city on the Baltic, and Osaka was a very warm city on the edge of the Bay. Satisfied, she set the drink on the small table near the rocking chairs.

"The one day I wear my fatigues," Eryl said, also giving a the gunslinger an up and down, "is the day you look ready to go out in town."

A small, embarrassed smile spread on her face, looking down at herself. She set her bag down and flattened her clothes a bit to try and seem more presentable.

"How are you feeling? I wasn't able to see you last week, so I was a bit worried. You seem to be getting along well enough, but just in case..."

That embarrassed smile became a touch mischievous; from the bag she pulled up an opaque glass bottle filled with a clear liquid with a label on it that read Stary Most Wódka Pieprzowa.

"... I brought you some medicine."

Jane looked down at herself when Eryl remarked on her appearance. "Spose I do. I was thinkin bout takin a ride when I remembered what day it was, so I waited."

Her smile was wry when Eryl worried. "I'm fine, Eryl, I'm moseyin. Ye ain't gotta herd me..." Her voice trailed off when the triclops started rummaging, curiosity getting the better of her. "Now that is just what the doctor ordered." She took the bottle, uncorked it right there and topped off her lemonade. The bottle she placed under the table; the glass she pressed to her lips.

"That's not yer standard fare, but that's got some real pep fer yer step. Thank ye kindly." She took another large gulp of the spiked lemonade and rose to her feet. "To the horses, then? Nuada's still here, though I think she'll be a proper lady in a month er so, then she'll head back home." Nuada, of course, was Anail na Nuada, currently Jane's only horse in training. It might have been called breaking before, but she didn't like that term, and she didn't use tactics that were nearly as harsh as some as she'd seen in her youth. But she was being paid a pretty penny to provide behavioral training that would result in a calmer, more amicable horse.

That being said, Jane did not let anyone else ride her. It simply wasn't safe. It was hardly safe for her, but hey, that was just business.

"Oh yes," Eryl started, picking up the bottle and tilting the neck over her lemonade in a way that looked absent-minded. "the Connemara. I was hoping to see her again, she is the definition of beauty."

The woman's hip bumped the bottle back straight up and set it down. At that, she took her fortified lemonade and followed along with Jane. "Is Nuada still peevish? She's uncharacteristically fiery for the breed."

As they walked, she sipped her drink in both hands, three eyes following along the edge of the property. It was difficult for Eryl to explain, but there was a sense of peace in this place. Everywhere else was loud, chaotic or unforgiving, but here she found her Avalon. A strangely separate world from the land it was planted in, like the Elementalia that was both her escape and prison for two hundred years.

Unconsciously, a small smile spread on her face, and she looked across at Jane with a familiar glint. "Does she ride, yet?"

"Aye," Jane agreed to all of the above. "But she don ride. Least, not like she ought. Fickle as a feline, that one. I reckon some foul soul treated her poor."

Jane threw the barn doors open and leaped back, narrowly eluding the hooves of a pale and rearing horse. "Woah, Nuada!" Jane put up a placating hand and held her ground as the horse approached, trying to exit the barn. Jane stepped forward, making a soft, reassuring sound. Nuada paused, then backpedaled, but tossed her head. She wasn't happy about being thwarted.

Once Jane was in, she spoke without taking her eyes off the horse, "Eryl, close the door." Nuada wasn't willing to give any more ground, but Jane's approach didn't seem to agitate her, so the American came close. Her outstretched hand upturned and she folded her hand closed twice in a 'come here' gesture-- her sign for the horse to lower her head. "Nuada, gal, simmer down now." Anail na Nuada complied, but there was hesitation.

"Fetch a saddle, would ye kindly?"

Dutifully, Eryl closed the way into the barn, keeping an eye on the irritated yearling that Jane was corralling. She set her drink down and gave Jane a wide berth, being mostly ignorant of the woman's techniques in horse-rearing. While she knew how to ride and care for the animals, she never learned to fold horses into more domestic attitudes. Her father broke horses, the old fashioned way, and made them into light and fast sprinters for wars waged in the name of the crown.

Easing her way over to the requested saddle, Eryl tried not to spook Nuada any more than the horse intended to be. It took a bit of exertion to get the heavy, layered leather down, as the triclops was naturally more frail. As she had too in most situations, she used her more fulsome legs to support her arms to lift it up and off. Once it was down, it became apparent that her expedition in the middle of the week took more out of her than she realized.

Cooly, she played off the struggle by blaming the heat.

"You think she might object to the weather," Eryl said, swiping sweat off her brow with the back of her hand, "I feel like it would be a good 20 C where she's from right about now."

She heaved the saddle, getting her arm back under it again, "And what sort of animal would mistreat such a lovely girl?"

Jane produced a sugar cube from a pocket and reassured the mare with a gentle stroke on her nose. "Yeah, easy gal. I know ye wanna run. Promise, we'll go so soon as yer strapped."

She slowly stepped away, never taking her eye off the wily beast and retrieved the saddle. "Thank ye kindly." Anail na Nuada eyed Jane warily as she went through the ritual of saddling, but gave no further protest. She seemed mostly ameliorated after her second sugar cube halfway through the process.

Jane didn't respond until she was confident the horse wouldn't strike up another fit. "I reckon she's fussed bout not runnin. Her name means Breath of the Wind Goddess, and it seems proper t me." She patted Nuada's neck reassuringly. "Gal, I promise we gon run the hills like there ain't no tamorrah."

There came a blustering sound behind them, and Jane turned with a smile. "You too, old friend, you too." No Name seemed to accept that, and watched patiently. If he was bothered by Jane saddling and reining another horse, it didn't show.

Jane returned her attention to Eryl. "Maybe horses don have the same beauty standards as people. Maybe they reckon yer a sickly calf," Jane offered a teasing smile. "On count o yer complexion n stature."

As Jane occupied herself with Anail na Nuada, Eryl found it difficult to deny herself the pleasure of turning about to the stall behind them. There were many things that the abjurer was bashful about, but least of all was the affection she lavished on No-Name, as if he weren't the appearance of rolling thunderheads. She patted his neck and scratched his chin, wiggling from side to side like a puppy staring down dinner, her mind absent of observers. It was hard not to feel so, as she only go to see horses on this one specific day, and she was incredibly fond of them.

"Don't you worry, I'm quite light," cooed Eryl to No-Name, "if she runs her, I'll run with you, you'll barely notice me."

Jane returned her attention to Eryl. "Maybe horses don have the same beauty standards as people. Maybe they reckon yer a sickly calf," Jane offered a teasing smile. "On count o yer complexion n stature."

Eryl spun on Jane in that space between the two stalls, leaning forward a bit with her hands clutched at the small of her back. The face that looked up at her had stared up at her before with webbings scars, hair rain-slicked, blood-caked and ugly with tears. Now her three eyes glimmered at her, features risen in a smile that radiated warmth.

"Your winsome side is showing," teased Eryl in return, "I believe the term the children use is... cute? You think the horses can pick up on that?"

No Name dipped his head toward the triclops, in agreement or simple acknowledgement it was hard to say.

Jane was focused on the mare again. “I wouldn’t mind a little bit o Sumedha’s gift when it comes to horse. But it ain’t so bad. It’s all bout tone.” Jane’s answer was soft. It was familiar to Eryl. It was a voice she had heard amidst a battle of gods and mortals, when she had felt her weakest. While the voice of memory had been an open soul harboring another, this voice was matronly. Both had achieved their intent to soothe the one in need. And a little brushing never hurt.

“I know, yer a proud gal. Jus lookit ye, I would be too.” Eryl found it hard to be very certain about anything when it came to horses, but she would have sworn Anail na Nuada stood straighter and taller after the praise.

“Alright, old friend.” The dark horse perked his ears and looked her way. Eryl was given the signal to let him out, and there was an effort on the stallion’s part to hide his excitement.

Next, Jane helped the shorter Pole into No Name’s saddle. Nuada snorted her irritation and nudged the gunslinger who smiled and stroked her nose reassuringly. Jane opened the barn door toward the driveway and her house before swinging into the saddle in one swift movement.

“We’re gon go quick. Give ‘em his head, he knows the path.

“Hyeah!”

Nuada bolted out the barn and across the driveway toward the hiking path, the low sun casting orange rays through the canopy.