…

The gray sky gazed down with towering indifference, it was so thick with torpor one could find themselves inebriated by sipping from above. The air was so still and heavy that even the cold could inflict a heatstroke, the clouds always threatened a storm but instead just made everything disgustingly moist for weeks. Shoddily built housing stared up from below in defiance of this omen, should the storm ever come it would rip them clean off the ground. But defiant they stood, ever calling the bluff of the skies above.

Far below the fast moving clouds, Hon sat on the stairway to one of the nicer houses in that district, and surrounding him there were four children of varying ages. All shoddily dressed, some probably lived in the streets but it was hard to tell the street urchins from the ones that were simply poor.

— I have another one for you. — Hon said, excitement in his voice. — Have you ever heard of how this town got its name?

One of the children promptly answered him. — My mum said it’s the clouds, how they drift fast on the skies. — The child pointed up. He had long black hair, his face was dirty and he wore a patchwork white shirt that had been made brown by the mud, his feet had no protection against the moist soil.

— Me pa’ says it’s the witches from long past, town was cursed so them people couldn’t stay long or the witches would use 'em to make potions on their cauldrons. — Another girl said, from among the children. She had brown hair and a pullup shirt that’s a size too big for her, barely covering her chest.

— That’s stupid. — Said another boy, his right arm was missing, apparently cut off at the elbow. He was shirtless and there were scars on his chest and face, his nose seemed broken. — Witches don’t exist.

— Well my father said we have nothing to offer so people just drift right through town rather than staying, and there's a lot of people. — The fourth child said with a shrug. He was apparently the oldest of them, also the only one that was properly dressed.

Hon nodded at their responses. — All good guesses, but none of them are entirely true. — Then paused, allowing suspense to fill the air before continuing. — Do you want me to tell you?

— Yes! — The girl said immediately.

— Just tell us! — The boy without an arm said.

Hon opened his arms theatrically. — Very well! — He then cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his hand shaped like a fist. — This town has had three names. — He lifted three fingers on his hand. — The first one was from before it was even a town! It was called the Loran estate, named after the Loran family, a family of nobles that were part of the Stirge nobility.

— What is the Stirge nobility? — Asked the boy that was dressed the best amongst them.

— They were a cult of nobles that did all kinds of evil things, like blood rituals and such. They still exist in fact, but enough of that. — Hon waved his hand dismissively. — The Loran estate was initially just a small estate that—

— What is an estate? — The girl asked, interrupting Hon.

— Well, it’s like a town, but smaller. — He answered, then continued. — So, it was initially just the bigger mansion for the family, which then grew into more houses to accommodate the growing family and the servants. Eventually others started moving in so they could work for the nobles, and thus the Loran estate became known as Lorania.

— Why would people come to work for the nobles if they were evil? — The boy without an arm asked.

— They didn’t know. In fact, the Lorans would use their servants and the people of the town for their rituals, and no one knew about it.

— That’s evil. — The girl said.

— Yes, it was. But it was also their undoing. You see, Lorania was taken into being part of the Larian Kingdom, which was then known as the Warran Kingdom. And while the town Lorania had the mansion and the Loran family as their most important figures, it was still ruled by a representative of the Warran kingdom.

— What is a representative? — The boy with brown hair asked.

— It’s like a mayor. — The well dressed boy responded.

— Exactly. — Hon continued. — And the Loran family never stopped their blood rituals during all these generations, always secretive about them too because of the Warran rule. Until they abducted the wrong person, and thus comes the first historical mention of a witch.

— But witches don’t exist! — Said the boy without an arm.

— They do! Well, not the ones you hear about in tales, but they do. It is said to have been a woman that was pale as a corpse and had blue blood. After her abduction, women much like her started appearing all over town, and they made a demand: "Return our sister or we’ll bring down the heavens." No one took them seriously, except the Lorans. They wanted to return the woman they had abducted in order to not suffer this fate, but they couldn't, because she had already been sacrificed.

The children gasped, then Hon continued.

— “Return our sister or we’ll bring down the heavens..” They kept echoing this ominous request to the city over and over again, more threatening each time. Fear was spreading among the people of Lorania, the Warran representatives wanted answers, and the Lorans themselves were completely lost at what to do. They tried to strike a deal with the witches, but it failed, because they wanted their sister, and nothing in the world could possibly replace her for them. When the witches learned that the Lorans had already sacrificed their sister, no apology in the world could save the Lorans from the wrath of those women. It is said that the women cried a whole day in grief, and that the more they cried, the more black clouds showed in the sky, until a powerful whirlwind appeared centered at the Loran district within Lorania. The women said the storm would last until the very last Loran had died. It lasted for 74 days, it only stopped when the town gathered and pushed the very last of the Loran sons into the storm. As he drifted inside it the whirlwind weakened in strength until it dispersed, and the mansion that was the eye of the storm was completely gone, a hole in the ground, none of the bodies of the family were ever found.

Hon paused for dramatic effect, waiting for the reactions of the children before continuing.

— For a short time, the town was then known as Witchville because the women never left. However, once the templars caught wind of the witches, they came and swiftly dealt with the problem so that the Warran Kingdom could regain control of the city. The witches tried to conjure another storm but it was useless against the overwhelming force of the templars. However, the clouds bound by their spell always remained, and thus what remained of the town was named Stormdrift.

The children all remained staring at Hon after the tale was done, and then slowly each of them started smiling. They looked at each other.

— That is so cool. — The brown-haired boy said.

— I knew witches existed! — The girl exclaimed triumphantly.

— So that’s why the clouds keep moving. — The boy with no arm said.

— Do you know any others? — The well dressed boy asked.

Hon pretended to think long and hard about it, then he suddenly lit up his expression as if he had just figured out what to say next. — As a matter of fact, I do! Do you know what is the origin of the expression “Falling down the well after tripping on the wrong bucket.”?

The children looked to each other expecting one of them to know something, but they were met only with shrugs and shaking heads. So they instead looked back to Hon with growing anticipation.

Hon smiled, then began telling his tale. - You see, you must be thinking it was just a man falling down a well after tripping on a bucket, but it’s not quite that simple. The story starts on the aforementioned Warran kingdom, in a particular city named—

— What is “aforementioned”? — The girl asked.

Before Hon could answer, the door behind him opened. A look of terror took over the face of the children, they instantly turned back and ran away without so much as glancing back. Hon looked behind him and realized it was the person he was waiting for: Larianna Gothri Morir, or Lady Morir for short. She was wearing a long red dress with white accents, she stood about a meter and three quarters tall and had hair red like fire burning black wood. Her visage was that of a radiant young woman that was struck by the signs of aging that comes with the third decade of one's life. She was stunningly beautiful and terribly unreachable, having Lady Morir direct word to you meant either a death sentence or a job offer, both equally appealing.

She descended the steps slowly and gracefully, there was an obvious care about how she conducted herself. She spoke to Hon as she approached.

— So you've met with the local wildlife I take it? — Her voice slightly sore, likely from not resting well.

Hon stood up and beat up the dirt in his butt while trying not to stare at the woman's cleavage. He couldn't help but think he saw a knife in-between her breasts but he didn't want to confirm with direct observation.

— I had nothing better to do while I waited so I decided to teach the kids some history. — Hon said, proud of himself.

Larianna went past Hon and started heading towards her destination, Hon followed behind. She would pull her dress up with her hands to avoid staining it with mud. — Well, next time you mingle with rats make sure it's far from my doorstep will you?

Hon was taken aback by this reaction. — Y-yes, Lady Morir.

She turned back to look at him after his response and saw his reaction. — Oh, sweetheart, don't look so glum, live here long enough and you'll learn to see my way. — Her voice was smooth as a flower with prickling thorns. She turned back to her pathing, throwing gazes to the sides ever so often to observe the state of things in that particular side of town. — Have you ever been to Lindgry, Hon?

Hon thought about her question for a few seconds, then decided it was pointless lying. — Yes, once.

Larianna seemed surprised by his answer. — Really? With what purpose?

Hon was not comfortable at all with this line of questioning. — Let's call it a family trip.

Larianna picked up on his tone and decided to drop the subject. — Well, however long ago it was, Lindgry must still be about the same, bring no valuables and keep your money on your underwear or boots and maybe whoever mugs you won't look there. - She threw a look his way with a smile. — Unless you’re with me, of course.

Hon nodded. — Of course, mam.

— And no need to be so formal. Call me Lari, or Anna, anything but Gothri really, it reminds of my bastard brother.

— Lari it is, then. — Hon wasn’t trying to be dry towards the woman, but she terrified him.

They kept walking in silence, Hon took this moment to once again appreciate the sight that was Stormdrift: There was mud as far as the eye could see, poverty was too kind a word to describe the place and it was a miracle houses could even be built in this cold and damp environment. Children played in the mud and charlatans plied their trade, selling magically charged wood or mud to passerbys. As they reached the center of town they could see the crossway that used to be the Loran mansion, now a crater on the ground that other establishments were built around. Ever since Hon released his book on the history of Stormdrift, many had come to see the crater and the tourism had marginally improved the town's economy, but not nearly enough to not see the odd corpse of a starved child on the ground. Some were thrown off their homes because their caretakers couldn't feed them, others were beaten to near death and left to die in some incomprehensible act of the world. Of course there were corpses of adults as well, but the sight of them did not turn Hon's stomach nearly as much as the children.

— They’re always there. — Hon said to himself.

— What’s that, dear? — Larianna asked.

— There’s always children, dead, every time I come here.

— Well, whores won’t stop fucking or they starve too, eh?

Hon simply sighed in response. He had a difficult childhood, but he had food, warmth. Not knowing anything but hunger and the damp cold at such an innocent age, only to die from it not ever knowing better than street violence and survival, it broke Hon’s heart.

Their destination was visible to them now, an establishment called Talmud's Finest, a name referencing how soldiers that came back from a battle alive were called during The Red War. It was to make fun of them at first, but eventually became a badge of honor as they started seeing more battles instead of just the usual massacring and pillaging of Larian villages.

A guard could be seen near the establishment's stables, spear in hand, guarding the horse's food more so than the horses. To his right a staircase leading to the second floor whereas business took place.

As Larianna and Hon approached, the guard used his spear to block their path, then spoke to Larianna in a calm tone.

— You know you're not welcome here.

Larianna laughed. - Honey, are you really paid well enough to try and stop me?

The guard sighed, then lowered his weapon granting them passage. As Hon followed in after Larianna the guard stared at him as if Hon were a lamb about to be slaughtered. Hon shuddered at the sight, thinking of the woman's reputation. For a second he reconsidered having offered his work to Larianna, but whatever she was couldn't be worse than what he was already running from.

Larianna opened the door and strolled in. As she approached the counter, the man behind it immediately jumped from his seat with his face contorted in anger.

…

Lien interjected on Hon's tale for the first time. — What was that about the children?

— Hm? — Hon responded, unsure of what the question meant. — You mean the ones I was talking to?

— No. You said something about dead children laying about, about it being commonplace.

— Oh! Yes, horrid stuff.

— When I went to Stormdrift some ten to fifteen years ago, that wasn't quite the case. It wasn't a rich city but the way you put it paints a much harsher picture, your book on the city made no mentions of these things as well.

Hon sighed. — Well, that's a bag of worms. Where do I begin? — He scratched his head for a moment. — Well, let's start with the fact that my book was written durinf the Red War, which is important because - I'm not sure you know this, but - Stormdrift is no longer under Talmudist control.

Lien tilted his head, he seemed surprised. — Is it not?

Hon shook his head. — No. But to explain why I have to go a bit into politics. You see, The Larian kingdom and the Talmudists never really saw eye to eye, mostly on account of both still being kingdoms but that's beside the point. The point is that the Kingdom of Talmud and the Larian Kingdom were always on the brink of annihilating each other, and that's where Stormdrift comes in.

— How so? — Lien asked

— Well, the constant bad weather in the region has historically heavily affected the vegetation of the surrounding area. There's a reason why it sits at what looks like the eye of a storm in any map depicting it, that city is only barely habitable. Conversely, it also sits exactly between the Larian Kingdom and Talmud's ports. So were hostilities to break out, it's a key defensive spot for Talmud. Not only is it hard to make camp in the surrounding area, but the traversability of it made it very hard to mount an attack on Stormdrift, let alone circumvent it. Thus, Talmud had every reason to keep Stormdrift under its wing and well manned, thus there was travel, thus soldiers were paid and spent their money in the city, there was incentive to maintain the roads, so on and so forth.

— So it was doing better when you wrote your book on it?

— Yes and no. — Hon scratched the back of his head, looking away for a moment. — It was pretty bad, but that was also one of my first books. I was young and didn't have much money, if any. So it was written with the patronage of the Stormdrift administration at the time, which meant I had a bit of a leash when it came to the less attractive parts of the city.

— Like the dead children? — Lien asked.

Hon nodded. — Like the dead children, yes. It's much worse now but it wasn't perfect then, at least Talmud kept things running somewhat.

— You mentioned it is no longer under Talmudist control, how's that?

— Well, like I said, any interest in maintaining the city on Talmud's side was military, and the Larian Kingdom never had any interest in it in the first place. So when the Larian Sorcerer King instilled their politics of inward perfectionism and ceased all hostilities, Talmud abandoned the city. They couldn't maintain it after the results of the Red War, they were relieved that hostilities were ceased in fact.

Lien seemed absorbed in thought as he nodded. — In any case, the dead children are not recent then, I see.

Hon thought it strange, the sudden change in topics. — No, they're not, I'm surprised it wasn't the case when you visited. Why do you ask, anyway?

— Because Stormdrift is gone. — Lien responded, nonchalantly.

— How so gone?

— The spell that hovered over the city was completed, if it can even be called a spell. A massive tornado devoured it. I was investigating it before I came here.

Hon was surprised. — What?!

— It happened four days ago.

Hon shook his head in disbelief. — What.. what about the people, the uh.. what about the structures and the uh..

Lien interrupted him. — Hon, I could scarcely find remnants of it, it's gone.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Hon was still in shock. The weather in Lindgry would certainly be affected by a tornado of this size, being barely a full day's travel away, how did he not notice it? He tried to remember if anything was different but he couldn't, Lindgry was always known for her unpredictable weather.

Lien was the one that broke the silence. — I'll know what came of it before long, the same Lorekeeper that suggested to me you were using listening spells is working on it.

Hon tried to recompose himself and nodded. — I see.

Lien pressed him to continue his tale. — You said you walked into Talmud's Finest and the man appeared to be angry with Lady Morir's presence.

Hon nodded, trying to get back on track. — Right, right. They.. bickered, it almost got violent but it didn't, not to say it didn't get bloody. But then again, what was I expecting having that woman for company?

…

The man behind the counter said but one word as Larianna came in, with a heavy eastern talmud accent. — Out. — He then repeated it, much louder. — OUT!

Larianna made no changes in her stride or direction, responding with a smile. — That's no way to treat a lady, is it?

— Perhaps me blade shall find ye stankering cradle to its liking sooner than me words do ye ears, eh?!

Hon blinked twice upon hearing the man speak, he could barely make out what he was saying. The sounds appeared to be words but the language was definitely not the same.

Larianna, on the other hand, didn't mind the threat. — I came here for a transaction, Barkto. Not an offer, not a visit, a transaction. — She stopped in front of the counter as the man stared at her, if looks could kill she'd be twice dead by this point. — Can you act civilized for five minutes so we can conclude it? — She finished with a smile.

He approached his face to hers until they were but a breath away, then tilted his head. - Ya gotta fat pair'a barlaks hangin' twin' yer legs dontcha? Ya strolled in like ya own the place…

— Like a customer. — Larianna corrected him.

— …like yar not a filthy fucking witch. Well guess what? I don't trust ye, get the fuck out. — He motioned with his head towards the exit and then backed off, still staring at her.

Larianna sighed, then spoke with one hand on her chest. — I'm not leaving, Barkto.

This seemed to be what threw him over the edge. — Well I guess I'll have to fucking make ye.

Barkto reached for a knife on the table with his right hand, his intent crystal clear to everyone in the room. Larianna pulled a blade from in-between her breasts and in a swift and practiced motion stabbed his hand against the counter, leaving it stuck. One of the guards inside the establishment unsheathed their weapon but didn't advance. Barkto grunted in pain, he had a split moment of indecision between assaulting the woman physically or reaching for another weapon, then decided on the latter. As he reached for the sword laying against the counter, Larianna pointed at the sword and shouted.

— DON'T! YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS! — Barkto stopped in his tracks, she kept repeating herself almost frantically. — YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS! You so much as fucking TOUCH that sword and you know EXACTLY what happens, Barkto! Fuck's sake!

Barkto motioned with his head for his man to stand down, still staring Larianna in the eyes, his lips shaking in anger.

Larianna pulled the dagger off from his hand and he grunted in pain, pulling his hand back and holding it with his other hand. Larianna took a deep breath, then threw her hair to the side. — Fuck's sake, Barkto. Can I just fucking pay you and be done with this?!

— And who'd escort ye, witch? Fore' ye forget, nonavus' got any love for ya.

— Fucking monkey with a spear would be enough, not to insult monkeys by comparing them with your men, of course.

— Don't push yer luck yar stimpering barlakler whore, there's only so many swings yer threats can stay.

Larianna took another deep breath, then continued. — How much will it cost?

Barkto leaned closer before speaking, and for a moment his accent was dampened enough for him to be comprehensible. — Ye know me price. But I was willing to gut ye knowing you'd pay it the moment ye walked through the door.

Larianna nodded. — I'll put in the word.

— Ye'll put in the word and we get the routes.

She sighed, then nodded again in defeat

Her nod changed Barkto’s mood completely, even holding his bloodied hand he had a smile from ear to ear. He started laughing, like a man that got much more than he bargained for.

— I'd say ye're gettin' soft if I didn't know better, Lady Morir. What's got ye in such a hurry, heh? — He turned to Hon then continued. — What’s she chasing, boy?

Larianna responded suddenly but in a very serious tone, directed at Hon but still staring at Barkto. — You say a word of it and I'll gut you from top down like a fish and strangle you with the first thing I find inside.

Barkto laughed again, then continued talking to Hon. — Those ain't empty threats, boy, saw it done one time, ye sure she paying ya enough? Oh no, is she paying ye at all? Don't tell, let me guess, she's got ye wee little sister working in one of—

— Deal or no deal? — Larianna interrupted Barkto.

Barkto turned back to her then laughed again. — Ye had me on talking to ya brother, witch.

— How long?

— Two hours, main gate.

Larianna sighed then started walking out, Hon followed behind. Her gait was heavier, more careless, her dress getting dirty with mud every other step. It was only after they were halfway towards the main gate that she finally exploded.

— Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! — She kicked a pool of mud on the floor, cracking the delicate shoe she was wearing and further staining her dress. — FUUUUCK! — The anger in his shout made it look like a beastly howl.

— What's wrong? — Hon asked sheepishly, regretting this automatic response almost immediately in fear of how she'd react.

— I OVERPLAYED MY FUCKING HAND! — She screamed at him, her expression contorted in anger. — THAT'S what's wrong!

Hon swallowed dry, then continued, trying to appear understanding. — How so?

She approached him, almost too close for comfort, before responding. — He meant it when he said I didn't need to offer him the routes, he's hot headed but he knows his place, but I'm fucking stupid and did it anyway!

— Are these routes so important? — Hon shot glances to the side, he noticed the people around them seemed to immediately vacate the immediate surroundings upon seeing Lady Morir in this state.

— No, I don't give a fuck about the routes.

— Then what is the issue? - Hon shrugged.

— Didn't I just fucking say? Are you deaf? I overplayed my fucking hand you thick headed fuck. — She pushed him hard, he barely managed to maintain balance. — Why the fuck do you think I hired you?! I have people! Why do you think I'm subjecting myself to that piece of rat piss to get his people to escort me instead of my own people?!

— I d-don't.. I don't k-know.

— Because I want this to be discreet! But now I have Barkto's eyes stuck to my back like a fucking knife. — She grunted loudly in anger. — Argh! I hate this! — She turned away and started pacing. — I'm going to have to actually kill that fuck, won't I?

— Well, you could misdirect him. — Hon said, then swallowed dry again.

She stopped suddenly and turned around to him. — What?!

— I-if he's l-looking you could use it against him.

She approached him rapidly with knife in hand and stopped when she was well within stabbing range. Hon closed his eyes and held his breath, frozen like a lamb to the slaughter. He prepared himself for the pain of the stab, thinking about his life. He thought about his books, about what he had yet to write, about how he never apologized to his mother, about how he would die to the hands of a criminal because of a deal he had not only struck of his own volition, but actively sought out, all for a stupid lead that would probably mean nothing and just pull him into yet another web of life-threatening situations. He felt stupid, and regretted this deeply. His only consolation is that being stabbed to death was still a better death than whatever he was running from would provide him, if it killed him at all.

The stab, however, never came. Instead a much calmer Larianna spoke.

— I'm beginning to like you, Hon.

He opened his eyes and found her standing farther from him and staring into the distance, lost in thought. He let out a breath of relief before speaking. — Why is that, Lady Morir?

— You are the bravest bookworm I have ever met and got a head on your shoulders to boot. I might just hire you.

— Thank you, Lady Morir.

— I have a plan, and I'll need you for it. I need to change, and so do you, follow me. — She started moving with fast steps and Hon followed. — And call me Lari, please.

…

— That was brave. — Lien said.

— That was stupid. — Hon retorted

— It worked.

— That it did, but if I had just stayed with my mouth shut I wouldn't have a knife-wielding maniac well within range to use it.

— You were never at any risk, she'd have to hire someone else and the lady was clearly in a hurry to conclude whatever business you were requested for.

— Lien, that's easy to say when you weren't the one about to be stabbed. Besides, she never needed me.

— If I heard you correctly, you were even offered a job.

Hon frowned. — Are you really condoning me working for a criminal?

Lien shrugged. — Not my problem.

Hon sighed. — Well it should be, aren't you a Templar?

— Barking up the wrong tree, Hon. What was her plan anyways?

— She never told me.

— How so?

— Well, she didn't live long enough to tell me is a better way to put it.

— Oh, do tell. — Lien leaned forward

Hon sighed. — Give me a moment, I'm going to need another drink for this next part.

Lien simply nodded and Hon stood up. He walked up to the bar slowly, thinking about how much he'd hate talking about what came next, about how many nightmares he had about it. The barman's face lit up upon seeing him approach.

— So your admirer came. — The barman said. — Quite the odd fellow.

Hon looked back and saw the piece of dead flesh laying on the floor next to a man without a scalp, one could almost see bone. Then he turned back to the Barman. — You think?

The barman laughed as he poured the drink. — I've seen worse, especially regarding our mutual friend.

— Ain't he the talk of the day.

— Have you heard from him? — The barman asked as he gave Hon back his tankard, now full.

Hon chuckled, then took the tankard. — See you later, Willy. — He started walking back towards his table.

— See you later, Mr. Historian. - Willy responded.

…

Hon finished putting on the clothes that Larianna had given him, taking note of how they cost more than he'd make in a year, and that they were in her manse, her manse in Stormdrift.

The dissonance presented by the mere existence of this manse was so thick one could almost touch it. Hon looked at the floorboards, the walls, his eyes darted around this makeshift palace and he couldn’t help but feel a deep rooted sense of disgust. The decadence of it all, the degeneracy, how could she possibly view herself as the princess in a palace and refer to the children in the street as rats? Not that he abhorred luxury, especially in the position of a guest, but what kind of rot took place in her black heart to make her speak with that tone about those children?

— What is the plan anyways? — Hon asked, trying to break himself away from these thoughts as he blankly stared into a mirror. A mirror so adorned it must’ve cost more than a carriage.

— You have really cute hair, did anyone ever tell you that, darling? — She spoke, flowers blooming in her tone of voice.

He hated that compliment, "cute". He also hated how she deflected his question with a compliment that disarmed him completely, which he suspected was her intention.

— T-thanks, Lari.

— I mean it. — She said as she walked over, then started helping him by buttoning the back of his shirt. — Never quite saw that color, what's your secret?

— Faulty construction. — He chuckled.

She chuckled as well. — Lucky guy, girls must love it.

He felt more embarrassed. — I'm not much of a girls guy, Lari.

— Guys, then? — She asked, raising an eyebrow.

His cheeks went red. — No! No. I mean, I like girls, I just…

She walked in front of him to adjust his tie. — Not much luck?

— Well, I.. — He tilted his head, nervous with the proximity. — It's work, I work a lot.

— And what exactly do you do, Hon?

— I'm a historian, I like books and- I mean I write books, about myths and.. stuff.

She was done with his tie but had not distanced herself, instead getting so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. — And how does a Historian know about my black market trade routes, Hon?

Hon gulped.

— If we're going to work together, I need to know. — Her voice didn't betray even a hint of threat, which made her all the more terrifying.

— M-may I sit? — Hon asked, in an attempt to get away from her.

— Of course, darling, let me help you. — She slid her hands over his chest and over to his hand, then started using her body to push him back until he sat on the bed, at which point she sat on his legs. — There, there. Are you comfortable now?

Hon swallowed dry.

She chuckled with a smile. — It's okay honey, take your time.

— Why would you go through the trouble of dressing me like this only to stain it with blood? — He asked.

— I don't need you to be alive, darling. — She responded with a chuckle, then kissed him lightly on the neck.

— Fine! — He shouted. — Fine..

She touched his lips with her nose and then backed away to stare him in the eyes.

— I used a spell, a templar spell, it showed me the tail end of the route, that's the truth!

She chuckled, continuing in a calm and lovely tone. — Bullshit.

Hon felt a strong stabbing pain in his thigh, a blade had been plunged deep. He screamed in pain, biting his lip to try and hold it back, his breathing accelerated.

— Gods.. — She said, licking his neck. — I hope that didn't land the artery. — She started pushing him down onto the bed, whispering in his ear. — But I have a lot of time, maybe we'll get there.

He screamed in pain again as she started twisting the knife in the wound. — Stop! Please! I can prove it!

She licked his lips before sitting back up. — Oh! — She smiled and clapped sarcastically, Hon was terrified of how much she was enjoying this. — A show? Just for me?

Hon nodded nervously, still biting down with eyes closed as the pain overwhelmed his senses.

Larianna chuckled, then pulled the knife out of Hon's leg. He cried in pain again, then pressed both of his hands against the wound to stop the bleeding, breathing rapidly. Larianna started walking around the room as she licked the knife.

— Tick tock, my dear. — She said.

Hon did his best to recompose himself, slowing down his breathing and closing his eyes to try to block out the pain for a moment. Then he started talking. — Several years ago, two girls come out of a carriage and a fat man does too. The fat man slits a man's throat in front of the girls, makes them watch, does a speech. One cries, the other barely reacts, they all leave in the carriage later through a particular route leaving the body to rot. I follow that and then map every single path in it. That's the truth, I swear by my life and my books that’s the truth, Lari. — He bit down again, moaning in pain.

As Hon told the story Larianna had stopped pacing around the room, slowly. By the time he was done, she stood still, her shoulders hanging low. Her frame seemed to reflect a stare into a very old abyss.

Hon was still pressing his wound when he looked her way. — Lari?

She didn't respond, a tud indicated the knife falling to the ground. She wiped her face as she walked towards a drawer and pulled some bandages from it. She turned around and her eyes were wet, she walked over to Hon and started silently treating his wound.

…

— Who was the man? — Lien asked.

— Baron Morir I assume, given how fat he was. — Hon responded.

— I see, showing the family business I suppose.

— Her reaction still puzzles me to this day, Lien. — Hon’s gaze was sitting firmly on his hands, holding his tankard.

— You showed her a hurtful part of her childhood, most people still feel pain about things in their childhood regardless of how much time goes by.

— Not that, I'm talking about how she treated me. — Hon adjusted himself in his seat, then looked back up at Lien. — Larianna Morir is a monster, nowadays I'm sure she hired me with full intent of killing me. However, after I told her about what I saw, she dressed my wound, cared for me, all the while in this like.. deep, sorrowful silence. She went from a monster that abuses and guts men to a little broken girl, the next time I heard her speak was several hours into the trip.

Lien nodded, giving it more thought himself. — That's heavy, you really think she would have raped and killed you?

Hon nodded. — I'm sure of it.

Lien motioned toward the tankard. — I can see why you needed that.

Hon scoffed. — Oh, this? — He raised the tankard. — This is for what comes next.

…

The sound of the carriage’s wooden wheels being pulled through the muddy ground by the slow gallop of horses was almost relaxing, if not a bit dull. And it had been going on for hours, broken only by the chatter from the soldiers that escorted the carriage, until it was finally broken by a much sweeter voice.

— That was my sister. — Larianna said sheepishly, staring into the distance as they sat in the carriage.

— Excuse me? — Hon asked.

— You described my sister in your vision thing.

— I see. What was it that happened there, Lari?

— We should be arriving by nightfall, this is a.. this is a good route.

She fell into a deep silence after that, and Hon soon realized that the tidbit of information she had just revealed was all she was capable of giving him. Hon thought the Morir children were just a son and a daughter, he couldn't help but wonder where did that girl he saw came in, and what was it that he saw exactly.

As his thoughts wandered, so did his gaze. If trees could speak, what stories would these tell? He thought. The sights weren’t colorful, dank marshes polluted the scenery as towering trees extended roots far above ground. Everything was moist and bugs populated the marsh like pests, their natural predators making very little effort to find prey.

As his thoughts wandered freely about, he noticed that the carriage that was once guarded by four guards was now only guarded by one. He looked around, but couldn’t find the other three. The one guard that was left didn’t seem to mind it either, and Larianna was in a world of her own. Hon was about to ask what was going on when the guard stopped the horses and produced a horn from his bag, he then blew into it, making a very loud sound. Larianna immediately took issue with it.

— What the fuck was that?! — She asked, staring at the guard.

The guard didn’t respond, instead he started running away. She followed him with her gaze, confused as to what was going on. Larianna and Hon stared at each other for a moment.

— What was that? — Hon asked.

— Fuck if I know. — She said, with suspicion in her tone. — But I don’t like it.

But a moment later movement could be heard in the forest, Hon wondered if the other guards were coming back, rather, wished they were, because he felt something much more ominous was taking place. It wasn’t long before the source of the sound made itself known.

Two men came from out of the forest, which then became five, which turned to seven, and then thirteen. They were strong, built like warriors, with skin pale as snow, northlanders. Hon’s heart sank below the ground, he had heard much about the cruelty of northlander raiding squads. They laughed, speaking in a harsh language he couldn’t understand a word of, Hon started shaking.

…

Lien stared at Hon patiently waiting for him to continue his tale, as he had been silent for several minutes staring at his tankard.

Hon finally spoke. — They took us. The northlanders, they took me and Lari. — His voice was shaking.

Lien simply nodded.

Hon continued — T-they took the horses, tied us to the back with ropes, then dragged us for gods knows how long through the marsh. I hit my head against something and passed out. I woke up in a… — Hon stopped talking, taking a deep breath.

Lien continued to wait patiently, respecting Hon’s pace.

— I woke up in a… — Hon tried speaking again, then looked away. He blinked and a stream of tears came down his face. — In a.. in a barn of sorts, chained to t-the ground. Lari was.. — Hon sobbed. — Lari was behind a wooden wall, I could hear her chains, I could hear her… — He sobbed again. — Her screams. I could hear what they did.

Lien calmly watched and listened, making no attempt to interrupt or rush Hon’s tale.

— Two fucking days, Lien. — Hon sobbed again. — For two days they did.. things to that woman. At first she would curse at them, but.. — He covered his mouth with his hand, making a fruitless attempt at holding himself back from breaking down. — T-they’d show up and her chains would rattle, she’s screaming, begging, I… — Hon started crying.

— You don’t have to go on. — Lien spoke.

— N-no no no no, you don’t understand, I hear cutting, I hear cutting, Lien. Then next time, chains rattle, and I smell burned fucking flesh, she screams and screams so much, so much, and I think they fucking fed her to me Lien. I didn’t know. — Hon breaks down further, tears streaming down his cheek as his voice keeps cracking ever so often. — I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know it was her but they fed her to me, I promise I didn’t know, Lien, I promise, promise.

— It 's okay. — Lien spoke. — Calm down.

— No! You wanted the whole story so you’re getting the whole gods damned story. — Hon’s sobs became more frequent. He made attempts to continue his story but they were unintelligible and short lived. Hon himself was aware of how little sense he was making, but the feeling was overpowering, stronger than him. It needed to come out, to be told, but to do so was like living through it all over again.

Lien watched silently. He knew what he was looking at, he had seen it before.

…

Chained to the ground of a damp wooden house, the walls and floor had dirt in them that were probably older than Hon himself. Night had fallen, the darkness invited creatures of the night to spend their night alongside Hon, he jumped at every shadow, his heart skipped a beat every time something slimy touched him. It had skipped so many beats he wondered when it would finally stop, death would be preferable to what he was being put through, and his captors were well aware of that.

But the creatures of the night were not the only shadows moving around. Something was making raspy movements over the floorboards, a gaping maw with hollow eyes plagued Hon's mind. He only wish he'd die or escape back into the light before it scurried too close.

He focused on the doorway, there he saw the campfire, he saw them eat and laugh together while he starved, he remembered how sometimes they would taunt him by throwing water at the floor in front of him. Being wet in the shivering cold made the unbearable thirst all the more hurtful, he’d lick his own skin and try to sift any sort of moisture from the grainy mud in his body.

He cried, again, he felt pathetic and completely broken, he knew he was next. Larianna’s chains had stopped rattling a few hours before, her broken screams had given place to wet coughs after a meaty thump, he only wondered what part of her body had broken that made her choke to death. He knew he was next, this was their way, it was intentional, he was to hear everything that would be done to him done to another. Man, woman or child, it didn’t matter, all suffered the same fate under captivity. These were skilled mercenaries kicked off from their homeland for one reason or another, left to wander and pillage with brutality usually confined to the northlands.

Each heartbeat was more excruciating than the last, they were coming for him next, this was a certainty, he would die, and it would not be a gentle trip into that dark night.

As moments stretched, a light could be seen approaching the door. His blurred vision made out two shapes, one of them holding the light, a torch. He started crying, it would begin, whatever it was they would do to him would start now.

He begged amidst tears, his begging was responded with laughter, followed by a potent kick to the stomach. Hon puked whatever it was he still had inside him, pain flaring up his entire chest, he could barely breathe, he was sure something broke. They laughed again.

One of the two men crouched in front of Hon as he moaned in pain, the man was chewing on something Hon could only assume was dried meat. He had tattoos all over his face and bare chest, a gleeful smile adorned his face as he stared at Hon.

— Hungry? — The man asked.

Hon nodded.

The man took Hon’s hand and pulled on his fingers until they were all extended.

— Choose. — The man said, pointing at Hon’s fingers.

Hon started breaking down again, sobbing. The man slapped him in the face with enough strength to throw him to the side, the noise reverberated in the empty barn house.

— Choose. — The man said again.

Hon sobbed again, but unwilling to be brutalized he pointed at his pinky.

The man started laughing heartily, then spoke in another language to the other man that laughed heartily as well. Then he turned back to Hon with a wide smile.

— Food. — He said, pointing at Hon’s pinky, then started laughing again.

The emotional shock of the whole situation made Hon laugh alongside the man. He pulled on Hon's pinky and placed it against a hard spot on the floor, then produced a knife from a holster in his chest.

Outside, the campfire burned bright as they laughed around it, telling jokes playfully and gesticulating to each other having the harsh northern tongues reverberate on the silent night.

A count of their numbers would say there were ten, they totalled thirteen but there were two alongside Hon and then there was their chieftain in his tent.

A second count of their numbers counted eleven. But one of them was not like the others.

Laughter died down, a heavy silence took place. All eyes turned to this uninvited arrival. The stranger's silhouette revealed a fearsome frame. He was a large man, the shadow projected against the forest behind him did him only favors in how terrifying he looked. He was covered in mud, moving things writhed in his thigh, blood in his left arm. He bore nothing but his hands, and spoke nothing but two words.

— Remember me?