Liam had not slept a wink, staring up at the geometrical patterns on the ceiling of his room. A smile was plastered on his face, and he couldn’t properly summon the energy to change it. Spending the night absently playing around with the magical-knot-rope had caused more failures than successes, but without an outlet for the restlessness, he would’ve probably gone and done something stupid.
Like marching up to Aisha’s room and knocking on the door.
But even the magical piece of training rope wasn’t capable of keeping him rooted forever. Eventually, he just couldn’t wait for the day to start, and without anything else to turn his thoughts away from the encounter with Aisha last night, he set out to take a very long dip in the baths of the guest quarters.
He hadn’t been expecting Imani to be there.
The leonid was in the process of leaving one of the shallow dips, a carved-out half-tub in the stone that allowed the leonid to just soak the feline part of her body while preventing her upper torso from getting wet. The feline wore a simple shirt and was focused on her gear, using the water of the tub to lightly moisten and scrub some pieces of leather.
“Beautiful morning!” Liam cheerily proclaimed as he paused halfway to the bath. “Are those paw-boots?”
“Yes,” she commented, dipping her fingers into the water and applying it carefully. “The cobbler said this would help make them comfortable.” The way she said it, Liam would’ve figured the boots were responsible for murdering her family.
“I’m guessing they were expensive.”
“Very.” Imani growled, rubbing the leather with her thumbs.
Liam wanted to ask why she’d bought boots when she’d gone without them thus far, but for all he knew, she hadn’t gotten them earlier simply because she couldn’t afford them. So he switched tracks. “One way to help mold them, moisture aside, is to just wear them down.”
“Yes, the cobbler said that.” Imani’s gaze remained fixed on the four tiny boots.
“Then how about training with them?” Liam asked. “I’d be happy to get some practice in. I definitely could do with some experience, and maybe the boots could help make it a fairer spar.”
Imani looked up at him with a baffled expression. “Why would you wear my boots?” The genuine nature of her question lingered in the air, the mercenary’s stare almost demanding a response.
Coughing to clear his throat, he gestured at them. “I wouldn’t be wearing them; you would.”
Her expression remained vacantly expecting an answer. “But they are uncomfortable; I would not be a better fighter with them.”
“And you are the better fighter?” he said tentatively.
“But…” Staring down at the boots and then back up at him, her brows knit in confusion. “You defeated me when I was possessed.”
“By sheer dumb luck.” Cocking his head, he gestured for her to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you just how many times over you would’ve killed me had you been able to think straight.”
----------------------------------------
Two hours and more bruises than he could care to count later, Liam now knew how it felt to be a guac that had been tossed into a box full of rocks and then thrown downhill. He would probably look the part soon enough; there were several nasty purple spots that were worsening by the minute.
Sparring against a fully aware Imani was akin to giving a fighting game a go. Except Liam’s character was controlled by someone who had no clue what they were doing, while Imani’s was a try-hard pro. He’d managed to land exactly five blows throughout the whole session, while the leonid mopped the training grounds with him.
Maybe she’d just been trying really hard to wipe the smile off his face.
“I don’t think I could keep going even if I wanted to,” he called out as he lay flat on the ground, covered in sweat and dirt, breathing hard. If her goal had been to get rid of the smile, then she’d lost. Liam was still feeling like he wanted to laugh out loud and run… ok, maybe limp around a bit and then collapse.
But the smile wasn’t going away. In that, and that alone, he’d won.
“I believe you,” she said, staring down at him with a worried look.
Or maybe she suspected he was holding back and had kept pushing until she’d gone a bit overboard. Whatever the case, Liam was just thankful that the sparring weapons had their ends wrapped in cloth. Otherwise, he’d probably need to spend the rest of the day bedridden.
“What do you think?” he groaned, sitting up while ignoring the way his ribs ached. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to land a whack on you one of these days?”
Imani gripped her staff. “You… are not suited for fighting like this.”
“Oh? And how would you suggest I fight?”
“Not at all, you will die,” her response came in a deadpan. “But your way of approaching the training…” Clenching her hand, she glanced down at the tiny bruise on her knuckles, the one spot he’d nearly managed to hit a couple of times. “I will have to think about this. Leonid forms of combat are not suited for two-legs like you.”
Liam immediately perked up. “You’re considering training me?”
“It is easier to protect someone capable of defending themselves,” she turned to leave, then stopped abruptly. “Contract rates will not change.”
And she marched off towards the guest quarters, leaving him with doubt on whether or not she would’ve charged less had he been competent when it came to fighting. Or maybe she’d charge more? He was amusingly indulging in the train of thought when a short figure approached, looming over his prone form.
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All of that wasn’t as important as what felt like his first successful step towards getting Imani out of her shell! The future was looking bright indeed, maybe soon he’d get her to open up.
“Would you need assistance, sir?”
“Oh, Grauch! Good morning,” Liam smiled up at the draxani. “I wouldn’t want to keep you away from any work you might have.”
“No worries, sir, I’ve been instructed to prioritize the Amil’s guests,” he paused, bowing slightly and lowering his voice to a whisper. “And I’d much rather be here than aid the house-alchemist in making more fertilizer.”
“Then I think I’m going to need your presence for the next…”
“Hour, sir.”
“Yeah, an hour sounds about right.”
Despite the cool-sounding title, the house alchemist was the person literally in charge of the shittier jobs. Their work would gravitate around waste management, disposal, and what could be roughly translated as recycling. There were fancier aspects to their jobs if you were in a prestigious enough household, such as testing for poisons, concocting medicines, and the like, but these were often the exceptions to the norm.
The “real” alchemists (the ones who tried to create magical-based potions and used enchanted tools) were the people in charge of taking monster corpses and producing low-grade aether from them. Those guys tended to carry some prestige, and some were even fully fledged noble families depending on where you happened to live. They tightly guarded the methods of their work, only teaching them to a select few. Meanwhile, the “owned” alchemists mostly learned about their trade through temples, as deities happened to hold a vested interest in hygiene for their mortal followers.
In short, deities made sure their mortals were potty-trained.
Frankly, it was one of the first signs of whether a budding follower-empowered spirit could make it for long enough to become a deity. If you don’t take care of your mortals and help them learn about the things they can’t easily notice (either due to limited senses or their lifespans), then you were going to get gobbled up sooner or later.
This form of symbiosis was also one of a handful of big reasons why civilization often didn’t technologically progress past a certain point. The reliance on the gods' wisdom often led to too much power in the hands of the divine, and when a magical industrial revolution came knocking, most gods did not like it.
It also tended to awaken the continent-gobbling monsters.
Those were fun, albeit somewhat terrifying, now that he was actually living here.
“You appear to be in a good mood, sir,” Grauch commented as Liam sat shirtless at the steps of his room.
His bodyguard was cleaning up and tending to her boots out of sight, somewhere in the bathing area.
“Thanks!” Liam chirped, carefully applying the ointment Grauch had given him, gritting his teeth. “On a completely unrelated topic of conversation, would Miss Aisha be available for breakfast?”
“Unfortunately not, sir,” Grauch replied. Even when he spoke with a perfectly neutral tone, Grauch still managed to convey a feeling of amusement and regret. “The Amil's work has drawn her away earlier today, and I do not know how long she will remain busy. Would you like to make a request?”
“She’s probably up to her ears in work with the festivities,” he waved it off, letting out a little sigh while scratching his chin in thought.
Today would be the parade day, so there would be that same problem that had popped up yesterday, mainly, that there would be priests walking all over the place. Especially around their precious, beautifully enchanted, powerful divine artifacts.
Liam really wanted to get an eyeful of those… especially with the magic… Ruffling his hair, he couldn’t reasonably think up any way for him to get around the priests’ “blessing sensors”. Maybe if he pretended to be from some other temple…? Impossible, the city is too small, they probably all know one another by name.
“I guess it’ll have to be breakfast for one… unless…” his gaze traveled towards the garden. “Does Imani typically eat alone?”
“Though I am not one to pry, to my understanding she prefers eating in the city, sir.”
“Yeah… yeah, that checks out.” Probably fear of being poisoned.
At some point, he would need to figure out how much of this was just natural paranoia and how much something that had emerged out of the current situation. According to his notes, the leonid held the potential to become a very talented mercenary commander, basically leading her own force and selling their talents to the highest bidder. But had some proclivity for extreme carefulness been what had guaranteed that level of success while hampering her from progressing further?
“I will bring today’s meal, then.”
Applying more ointment on his knuckles and watching Grauch leave, Liam mostly grumbled to himself, trying to figure out if there was anything else he could do today. His best bet would probably be to go about the emptier parts of the city, further away from the parade, to explore the tiny streets…
“Sir, it appears you have received a message.”
Grauch startled him, having returned faster than Liam had expected, carrying a wooden tray with food, as well as a piece of parchment. The draxani put both down next to him and moved to stand at the side.
“Who sent it?” The parchment was cheap and brittle, the kind of stuff that looked closer to dried leaves than to anything actually processed.
“A young volar, though he appeared to have been sent by someone else.” Clearing his throat, he leaned closer. “The contents are also not in a language I’ve seen before.”
Liam could understand why.
Because it was written in plain English.
> Depart, promise a swift return, but don’t. Wait till dusk.
>
> Bid the cat to remain.
>
> Trust the scheme, ignore the holes.
>
> Erase your epiphanies after incinerating this.
>
> -A shadow.
It was like a bucket of ice water.
> Erase your epiphanies after incinerating this.
His hand reached for the divine knife, safely tucked into his boot; he caressed its hilt with his right hand. No tingling, no sense of mana, it was empty. It was empty because he’d used it, made himself forget. When? Why?
“You know, I think I’m going to take a walk,” Liam declared, taking a bite out of a piece of bread and reaching for his meal. “Say, could you tell Imani to wait? I don’t think I’ll be out for long, I just need to clear my thoughts a bit.”
“Certainly, sir.” Grauch betrayed no outward sign of having noticed Liam’s tension, but it would’ve been impossible to miss.
Because right about now he wanted to make a run for it.
> Ignore the holes.
They were under attack, and their enemy was either confirmed to have mind-readers, or it was very likely to be the case. Both were Thalgrim's favorite, and if Liam’s fate was nonexistent, then it was one of her best information-gathering options short of sending an aspect. The longer he remained aware of this fact, the likelier it would be that they could catch on that they were doing something.
> A shadow.
It was one thing to send aspects, but if Maridah was in the city… a city with three temples. Liam hurried his steps. Maybe Thalgrim wouldn’t make a move out of concern of getting other deities to realize something was going on. But if either the Sentinel or the Warrior noticed her presence here… he didn’t want to imagine what might unfold, not least of which because Doeta would become collateral.
> Trust the scheme.
But… did the plan account for Aisha?
Or was she caught in the crossfire?
“Shit.”