Gideon was a long way from home. Then again, at this point, did he even have a home? It occurred to him that he had hardly even considered what he might do in the event that his impulsive plan succeeded and his military career enabled an early retirement. Perhaps he wouldn't even return to his city in Aurelia; there were probably nicer and warmer beaches elsewhere, where the smokestacks of factories didn't taint the salt spray and give it a sour taste.
He sat by himself and mulled over all this in silence. It would probably be good for his sanity to act more sociable, but it wouldn't be long now before mealtime. He could talk to his fellow soldiers then. In the meantime, he found his eyes drifting down to his hand and to the ornate ring upon it. For what must have been the thousandth time that month, his mind replayed the memory of just how he'd wound up with it.
Months ago
The windy air on the ship's crowded deck was cold, for they were still in the lower latitudes. But anything was worse than being stuck below deck. Even on a ship as large as this, it was easy for the gentle rocking to make a man sick if he tried to stay holed up in his quarters like a rat. The sight of some others vomiting off the side of the ship reminded him that it wasn't much better up here, but he tuned out the disgusting noises before they also made him sick and so he pushed through the throngs of people and found his way to another part of the deck. He came to the edge of the ship and leaned against the railing, trying to follow some sailor's advice and find something still to stare at. There was nothing around except the gently bobbing ship itself, the rolling waves below, and the sky. The ship and the waves were of course the last thing that he should have looked at since their constant motion would only make the sickness worse, so he found himself looking up to the clouds. They weren't quite perfectly still, but staring at them was probably a better bet than trying to look at the sun.
Gideon might have despaired at his circumstances then, but moping wasn't in his nature. He stared and stared, trying to find shapes and faces in the clouds. Then he jumped with a start when someone else came to join him and leaned against the railing only a few inches away. The boy naturally spun to look at the stranger that had approached. The stranger was a well dressed and aging man that nonetheless projected an air of elegance in that way that only the wealthy and powerful could manage.
"Ah, hello there," the man spoke. His words were are crisp and clear as the cold skies, but they carried a subtle hint of something else much like the air here tasted of salt. The man's voice had the faintest hint of an accent, but it sounded like none that Gideon had ever heard before, much less one that he could recognize.
Gideon was silent for he didn't know what to say; a few awkward moments of silence passed by in the blink of an eye. Fortunately this man had the social grace to break the silence and brush away the building tension. "I couldn't stand it up there," the man had finally gone on to say, gesturing up to the much less crowded upper deck that was reserved for first-class passengers. "I can see how grand it looks from down here, but it's just another deck. And the people there make poor conversation."
Conversation? That's what the man had come down here for? Gideon thought for a moment, then tried his best to indulge the stranger. "So...what brought you onto a ship heading to Yllendyr?"
The hint of a smile crept onto the man's face as he offered some vague answer, "I have some friends there that I must catch up with."
Gideon didn't think much of the answer; he found himself more bewildered with how this person had friends in Yllendyr, and how a lower class person like himself had even come to speak with such a plutocrat. He snapped out of his momentary daze to see the man's inquisitive eyes peering deep into his own; without speaking, the man had returned the question.
"I'm going to join the elves' military. I might not like it, but it's better than moping around and lamenting a circumstance that I could change."
Gideon realized that without even consciously thinking about it, he had tried to make himself look sophisticated.
Lamenting? He never spoke like that! Had he even used the word correctly?
"Ah, intriguing...see, you're already proving to be a more interesting conversationalist than any of those arrogant fools on the upper deck. Tell me more."
Over the next minutes Gideon somehow managed to offer his name, his innermost thoughts, and more or less this entire life story to the stranger before he'd even realized it. All the while the strange man had still revealed next to nothing about himself, and aside from the occasional brief quip or reassuring smile, the plutocrat had done nothing but listen and allow the boy to pour his heart out.
When Gideon finally found himself once again telling the story of how he'd come onto that very ship and of how he was going to enlist in the military, the proverbial curtains closed. Once he stopped speaking for a few moments and let silence reign again, he looked closer at the man and saw him just staring out into the sea. Had he even been listening?
"You're more remarkable than you give yourself credit for, Gideon. Perhaps you'll do well in life."
"Uh...thanks, sir?" he stammered. Meanwhile, the stranger had stopped leaning against the railing and reached for one of the many rings around his fingers. Each one looked exquisite and was probably worth more than Gideon's life.
So imagine his surprise when the man removed one of those rings and held it in an outstretched palm towards Gideon. "Take it," he intoned. "A gift to you, for telling such a good tale."
The boy immediately grew suspicious and backed away half a step. "Thank you, but I couldn't possibly..."
"It isn't stolen," the man said, practically reading Gideon's mind. "Let me make this easy for you: take it, or I'll throw it into the sea." He held the ring over the railing and toyed with it, gently laughing.
It was worth far too much for that; the part of Gideon that had always been poor screamed at him to accept the thing, and just like that he found it placed in his hand. It was only then that he could examine it closely: it was a band of solid, gleaming gold. Decorative swirls and patterns wrapped around it, but it was the signet that caught one's eye: a large, oval-shaped ruby was set into a circular plate. It looked almost like a red eye.
"It's very valuable. I hope you'll have the sense to keep it for yourself; in these days, there are no honest men. I'm afraid that no merchant or jeweler would offer a fair price to a young man like you. But that's just as well; you should keep it, wear it, treasure it if you're going into the military. It's always given me good luck."
He stuttered, "Th-thank you." Then he looked down into the ring and its ruby, "But where did you get it?"
There was a faint chuckle for an answer. Gideon thought that he heard the man utter, "Anhreich." He looked up even more bewildered, but his new acquaintance was gone, already vanished into the crowd. Gideon was left alone, and for the rest of that long sailing trip he'd been left to wonder if his ears had played tricks upon him. Things did not come from Anhreich, nor go to that place if they could help it; that was a cursed land where ghouls walked and men burned one another alive. Surely something so beautiful as this ring couldn't have come from there?
He never did see that strange man again.
Gideon was still brushing his fingers over that ring upon his finger when the bells rang out. Reluctantly, he made his way to the mess hall. He found himself sitting down at some table with some other humans, an orc, and some snide-looking young dark elf woman. Finding himself not much in the mood for conversation and the others likewise quiet, Gideon resigned himself to silence until the dark elf finally asked why everyone else was so quiet. Much to Gideon's shock, one of the other soldiers pulled out a radio, and when Gideon heard the news he was just as shocked and bewildered as Lunastri.
At least he could find some humor in how the radio tried to take an objective stance. At least there were still some honest people, though to be honest it probably wouldn't be long before whichever side of the civil war controlled the radio tower had those truthful operators replaced with propaganda speakers. Gideon supposed that those reporters might even be shot for something along the lines of treason; he couldn't imagine that either Olarth or Ecruir would appreciate the other side being portrayed in anything but the absolute worst light. That the Sentinels of all people would stay out of the fighting was another irony that was beyond laughable!
Gideon could hardly eat. He excused himself to some quiet corner, then fell on the ground laughing in morbid humor. "This shouldn't have been my fight! I might have to die for one of those fucking 'emperors' that slay their own kin, and meanwhile the Sentinels won't even be lifting their fingers," he muttered to himself. He looked down to his ring. "I hope you really do bring good luck."
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