As Marlin and his crew walked through town in the twilight rays of the sun, he noted how different the response was when people saw him in a group. The "silent vouch"—those you walked with, those you trusted.
This society, deeply rooted in trust, had many unspoken rules that he was still not very good at reading. He might look like a young, budding warrior of roughly 20 years old, but in terms of social cues, he was essentially a child. The good news was that as long as you acted upright and did right, you would never need to know much about social intrigue—except when dealing with nobility or the honorless.
As they continued down the narrow cobblestone streets, Marlin’s thoughts drifted to the nature of the world he found himself in. He had dark power, but he had learned to control it, though he was glad the mastery of it had happened quickly in the seclusion of his parents’ home. He knew that raw strength wasn’t everything. The dark power that made him a Dark Lord had a price.
Billy, the dire goat who marched beside him with the bearing of a knight, seemed to sense Marlin’s inner turmoil. The large creature snorted, its intelligent eyes glancing up at him as if to reassure him that no matter what, he would stand by his side.
The three gnolls—Gary, Bary, and Jerry—were a few steps ahead, scanning the surroundings for threats. They communicated with each other in guttural growls. It was comforting, in a strange way, knowing that they had his back. Gary, the archer, kept his bow at the ready, while Bary casually twirled his spear in one hand. Jerry was nearly invisible in the twilight, blending into the shadows with growing ease.
Milly spoke softly, breaking Marlin’s reverie. “Marlin, are you alright?”
She was walking close to his side, looking up at him with concern. Despite her strength, when it came to Marlin, she let her guard down, revealing a vulnerability she showed to no one else.
Marlin smiled, idly wondering if their "honeymoon" phase would ever wear off. He pushed away the dark thoughts that lingered at the edges of his mind. “I’m fine, Milly. Just thinking.”
“About what?” she pressed, her hand tangling with his. “You seem distant.”
Before he could answer, Bronn’s deep voice cut through the evening air. “We should get off the streets. The town’s too quiet for my liking. This war business has everyone on edge; some are looking for a fight.”
The T’jut berserker, with his massive frame and fierce temperament, was on high alert. His eyes were scanning the people, grunting here or there, “What are you looking at?”
Kotak nodded in agreement. “Best not to push our luck.”
Marlin glanced around, realizing that Bronn and Kotak were right. The townsfolk who had been out earlier were now scarce, and those who remained seemed to be watching them. The air was thick with tension.
“Let’s get to the guild,” Marlin suggested, his voice firm.
As they made their way toward the town’s central square, the last rays of sunlight faded.
When Marlin and his crew entered the Freebooter Guild, they were greeted by the familiar sight of rough-hewn wooden beams and the smell of ale and roasted meat. All of them realized they were starving. The guild was bustling, as it always was, but a bit more hushed. Everyone was drinking, boasting, and exchanging stories of their latest exploits. The cacophony of voices, the clinking of mugs, and the crackling of the hearth fire blended into a symphony that almost made you forget there was soon going to be a war.
At the far end, seated behind the counter, was Joffrey, the guild master. His long, silver hair was tied back. In the dim light, his aging face was lined with experience, his eyes gleaming with the cunning of a man who knew how to navigate the complexities of the world.
Marlin approached the desk with some swagger. His lips curled into a smile, his sharp eyes—now a dark blue as he reveled in the success of their mission—sweeping over the room. “Joffrey,” he said, tossing a bloodstained pouch of goblin ears onto the desk. “That’s our haul.”
Joffrey chuckled, his eyes gleaming with approval. “Efficient, it seems. Care to tell me how many, or do you expect me to count those ears?” He scoffed, “I guess I should be glad you don’t half-ass it.” He counted a bunch of coins, placed them in a bag, and tossed it. Before Marlin could catch it, Bronn grabbed it mid-air. “I’m gonna get food,” he grumbled or grinned—Marlin wasn’t paying much attention as he waved him and Kotak off.
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His gaze shifted to the group of older adventurers gathered near the hearth. They were Joffrey’s old party, legends in their own right. Kotak had talked a bit with some folk around town; these guys were hard to miss with how deferential everyone seemed to be. He started marking them for future reference—something told him he might have to deal with them.
Tina, a petite woman with a duelist’s grace, was sharpening a thin, elegant rapier, her expression as serious and focused as ever. She rarely spoke, but when she did, her words cut as sharply as her blade—or so they said.
Beside her sat Raddick, an oracle whose face was marred by a nasty scar running from his forehead down to his chin. The scar had been a gift from an encounter with a demon, or so the rumors said. His eyes were closed, but Marlin knew better than to think Raddick was unaware of what was going on. He seemed tense and focused.
Garreck, the knight, was polishing his armor, though it barely needed it. He was a man of unwavering discipline and honor, his posture as rigid as his code. A mustache adorned his upper lip, which he twirled absentmindedly as he pondered. Marlin’s eyes met Garreck’s, and the old knight nodded—a silent acknowledgment of a fellow warrior.
Then there was Aeryl, the weapon master. A female Roknurr. Her muscles were defined and powerful, yet her movements were fluid and graceful, every step she took radiating deadly precision. Her grey skin, coupled with her imposing height, only added to her commanding presence. She was testing the weight of a rather heavy-looking and broad-bladed zweihander, her muscles rippling beneath her clothes as she swung it with practiced ease.
“Good work out there, I guess,” Aeryl said, her voice teasing as she tested the balance of the sword with a few deliberate swings.
“All in a day’s work, I guess,” Marlin replied, his tone casual but respectful.
As Aeryl’s eyes lingered on Marlin for a moment too long, Milly’s hand tightened around his arm. Her usual calm expression darkened, and Marlin could feel a subtle shift in the air. His eyes flickered with a more intense glow as he sensed her sudden defensiveness.
Aeryl noticed and, unfazed, simply smirked and shrugged.
Joffrey leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he observed Marlin and his crew. “We are getting quite a few people from Lost Haven these days. You’ve made quite a name for yourself, Marlin. It’s not often a Dark Lord walks a path like yours, trying to keep that shadow at bay. It makes you… unique.”
Marlin’s expression darkened slightly.
His gaze shifted back to Milly, and his eyes softened as he looked at her. For a moment, the darkness within him seemed to retreat, replaced by something far more profound. Milly, still holding his arm, made him ponder when that had started happening—the fact that Milly meant so much to him. It was happening so fast.
“It’s not me, y’know?” Marlin spoke to the room, sort of to himself. He got caught up in the moment and didn’t notice how everyone seemed to pay closer attention.
“The darkness, I mean. I keep it on a tight leash, kinda like a blade. Gotta keep it in the sheath; can’t wave it around all the time.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“It creeps up on you, though. From time to time, I’m not even aware that I’m using it, infusing my words with a subtle inflection, telling someone what to do. And you wonder—did they listen to me, or did I compel them?”
He shook his head and smirked, “Guess that’s my lot in life.”
Later, as they sat in one of the rooms around a small wooden table, eating the simple meal that had been brought up, Milly broke the silence again. “Marlin, we need to talk about what happens next.”
Marlin met her gaze, seeing the worry in her eyes. “Go on.”
She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I know you’re in control of your dark powers and are wary of them, and I respect that. But we’re getting closer to something big. The kind of power you have…” she didn’t finish, but Marlin got the gist.
Bronn, who had been leaning against the wall, scowled. “Why are you, a warrior, so afraid of yourself?”
“Sit down, Bronn!” Marlin fueled his voice. Bronn sat down faster than he could realize and looked a little dazed.
“That’s why I’m hesitant, Bronn—how quickly I could
slip, with but a word.” Marlin gave Bronn a look. “My voice is basically a weapon, Bronn. I lace it with dark authority, and you respond. It felt natural to do, didn’t it? The thought of resisting, the urge to defy, wasn’t there.”
The room was silent. “Sorry, Bronn, I shouldn’t have done that,” Marlin apologized.
“What did you say anyway?” Bronn waved the apology off.
“To sit down,” Marlin admitted.
“Pff, I was gonna do that anyway,” he smirked.
Marlin smirked back. He was glad for his budding friendship with Bronn.
Milly reached across the table, taking his hand in hers.
Marlin squeezed her hand, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The night wore on, and everyone went to sleep. Marlin, however, was tossing and turning and decided to get some fresh air. Jerry, also not asleep and totally not stealing stuff, felt Marlin’s restlessness through their bond and decided to join him on his walk. The streets were quiet, and so were all the houses. With the exception of crickets, the only thing he heard was the breathing of himself and Jerry.
Marlin, glad for the company, was ruffling his head when he stopped in his tracks. In the darkness, he saw a cloaked figure looking around and trying to be inconspicuous.
It was Daini.