Not In This Lifetime Ch. 02

Trigger warnings not having access to modern technologies and even, in some instances, electricity and public water systems. Symond had taken a horse from the nearby town of Eastrun and set out early in the morning, before the sun had even risen. By the time he arrived, it was beginning to peek over the eastern mountain tops. Symond had decided to hunker down at the edge of the forest and see what he could see. He secured his horse further back in the trees, and then sat himself on the hillside, pulling out a pair of binoculars.
As expected, he saw nothing noteworthy. The village began to come to life with the regular hustle and bustle of the townsfolk. He saw Elos Thiled, one of the suspected founders of the rebellion. He was talking to someone else outside of a small mom and pop cafe located at the edge of town. If only Symond could be a fly on the wall.
He placed his binoculars on the ground next to him. This was utterly pointless, he'd have to find a way to get some of his tech back into the village. He leaned back against the tree and sighed, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. He decided he was going to have to speak to the general about picking up some of his old duties that had been reassigned when he was put on rebel watch. It was beginning to seem as though the king was right after all about this rebellion not being a real threat. Symond found himself beginning to succumb to drowsiness from all the sitting around, when he noticed a figure approaching from the town. He quickly put the binoculars back up to his face to get a better look.
It couldn't be.
There in the distance, approaching him, was the king's insurgent son. And he was alone. Symond couldn't believe his luck, and he quickly brainstormed the best way to handle the situation. He wasn't in uniform as he didn't want to raise any alarm bells if he were to be spotted, and he was certain that Mile didn't know who he was. If he played his cards right, he could perhaps get close enough to the young man to apprehend him before he realized anything was amiss. As far as Mile knew, he was just another villager. He decided to commit to this role and stood to greet Mile as he drew closer. He waved. Mile stopped, surprised to see the other.
"Hello Kızılay travesti there! What brings you out here?" Mile hesitated, looking the other up and down, searching for any clue as to who he might be. Finally, he spoke.
"I could ask you the same."
Symond smiled and nodded toward the forest. "I came to graze my sheep out here." He wondered if anyone in the area actually raised sheep, or if he had just shot himself in the foot. Mile looked into the trees where Symond had motioned to. It seemed as though he knew nothing of sheep as he didn't immediately question the idea that Symond was grazing the sheep in the forest instead of on the open hillside, where the grass was abundant and he'd be able to account for them all more easily.
Symond continued speaking before Mile could consider this. "So what about you? What brings you out here this fine morning?" Mile, still cautious, seemed to take a moment to consider his answer.
"I love the view from up here." He paused and looked over the other some more. "But I didn't realize this was your property, so I will be off." He turned to leave, clearly feeling unsettled by the other man's presence.
"That's not necessary," Symond carefully approached Mile to clap a hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture. "You are welcome here." Mile blinked and turned to face him, surprised by the sudden close proximity of the other. He said nothing, uncomfortably lowering his eyes to the ground.
Symond noticed his gaze linger and felt the young man's shoulder tense up.
His boots. Mile was looking at his boots. Symond hadn't bothered wearing something other than the boots issued to him via the army as he certainly hadn't anticipated getting this close to Mile Domarc. Of course Mile would recognize the boots, having served in the army himself.
Mile turned to run, but Symond immediately sprang into action, strategically stretching his leg out in an effort to trip the man. He managed to catch one foot, and Mile toppled to the ground in surprise.
"Mile Domarc," Symond pulled him to his feet, with a firm grip on his upper arm. He couldn't help but admire the young man's face, now that they were up close and personal. Mile was 25, beyond the minimum Kızılay travestileri age of what was considered to be an "adult," but he looked so young -- just a kid, really. Symond wondered when he had had this change in perspective. He himself had joined the Royal Army at 18, and he certainly hadn't felt like a child back then. He realized it was kind of insane that these young adults were expected to serve in the army. To give their lives before they even really had them.
Mile scowled at the mention of his name, and Symond noticed the brief look of panic flicker across his features when he came to his senses and realized the officer had a secure hold on him.
"Daddy's been looking for you, he's placed a pretty penny on your head, you know."
"Fucking let go of me, asshole." Mile glared daggers at the older man. Symond smiled at the thick accent the young man sported. He was obviously trying to suppress it earlier. The "Noble" accent, as it was referred to in the kingdom, tended to be a rarity on the battlefields, what with the majority of soldiers being common folk. After so many years of being in the army himself, Symond found that his own accent had faded pretty significantly. The royal family had the thickest accents and used the most proper dialect even as far as nobility goes -- it was basically a tradition passed down through the generations. A blatant reminder of status. Symond had always found it to be kind of silly and dated, but hearing this young man curse him with such a proper accent was bizarrely endearing.
Mile started to pull away from Officer Symond when the other made no response. Symond tightened his grip on his arm.
"Listen, if you go back now, your punishment will likely be minimal. You're young and impulsive, mistakes were made. But you're still the king's son." Mile immediately stopped struggling to get free and stiffened.
"I am not going back."
Symond raised an eyebrow. "Privileged life treating you poorly? Don't be an idiot. You were born into a life of luxury. Many would kill to be in your position. Don't piss that away."
"That's not -- I am not --" Mile frowned as he struggled to find the words to reply. Frustrated, he realized he didn't need Travesti kızılay to justify himself to this enemy soldier and he turned his head away. "Fuck off, asshole."
Symond snickered and started guiding Mile by the arm. "A foul mouth for such a pretty face. Let's move, you." The younger man stumbled a bit from the sudden forced movement before digging in his heels and pulling in the opposite direction.
"Let go of me. That's an order!"
Symond laughed again, still pulling the struggling young man in his tow. "Are you a rebel soldier or are you a prince of the royal kingdom? You can't have it both ways. Either way, the king has insisted upon your presence, and his order trumps yours."
Unable to escape the other through physical means, Mile tried a different approach.
"Look, whatever he is paying you, I will double. Just let me go."
Symond shook his head. "Not interested in your money."
Mile frowned at the response and tried again. "Why do you follow him blindly? He is a selfish and cruel ruler -- he does not care about the people in the kingdom, he cares only about himself."
"I can't complain," Symond replied, without looking at the other.
"Because you are one of the few that benefit from his fucked up hierarchy, and you have not yet gotten on his bad side," Mile spat out bitterly.
Symond sighed and stopped walking. He turned to look at the indignant young man that was glowering back at him. "The monarchy existed before his rule. He is simply following the traditions of those that came before him. This system you oppose is bigger than all of us." He paused for a moment and looked off into the distance, pensively. "What you want to do cannot be done. Not in this lifetime. Don't throw your life away for this hopeless cause. This rebellion is a fool's errand. You can do more good as the king's son. As a soldier in the royal army."
Mile scowled at Symond. "I have no real power as the second son. I am just another cog in the system I despise, living on the backs of the slave labor of others. I would die before returning to that existence."
Symond sighed again and resumed walking. "So be it. But not before I take you to the king."
"You goddamn piece of shit!" Mile's struggling returned tenfold. He grasped at the man's hand that was gripping his arm and tried to pry it off of himself. Symond was growing increasingly impatient with the young man. While the situation with Mile had been amusing at first, he was over it. It felt like he was trying to wrangle a cat.