Thrace felt the most peculiar feeling as her eyes half-opened to a stream of sunlight. She felt...peaceful. For nearly the past month, she’d slept upon beds of leaves and questionably empty caves in the forest. She’d huddled in dark alleyways and in the sewers. When strangers, either urchins, beggars, or criminals of the seedy underbelly, approached only the show of magic kept them at bay. Her only companion had been the hunger that rumbled in her belly.

But now, she was warm, her stomach felt full, and it was quiet. A contented sigh left her lips and she snuggled down into her soft blanket.

Wait. Her eyes flashed open. She didn’t have a blanket, let alone one that was soft. Rising from the bed, no bunk, Thrace found herself in an unfamiliar room.

It was a cramped cabin of some sort. As her mind began to awaken, Thrace could feel the cabin sway and rock. Was she on a ship? It must be. Made of wood, this cabin contained a second bunk that lay on the wall opposite of her. A small window sat above the opposite bunk, with the first fingers of sunlight creeping in. Looking up, Thrace found a menagerie of peculiar things hanging. Potted plants, pots and pans, and even a spice rack hung from a complicated weave of ropes and fishing nets. A small round table dominated the center and there was a door on the wall off to her left.

And, sitting at the round table, sipping a cup of something hot and steaming, was a man with green skin.

“Papa?” she whispered. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. But, Thrace couldn’t help but feel a part of her yearning, hoping, that it was true.

But, as the drowsiness fled her vision, she saw that it was that Half-Orc, Kosram.

He wore a set of dull-blue robes trimmed in bronze thread. The collar was high, almost reaching up to his jawline. His hands were covered in simple white gloves. There was no component belt, no sign of his weapons. If she hadn’t seen his face, she wouldn’t believe that this man was that disheveled urchin that had rudely burst into her life. He looked like a Follower of the Tenets, who were more common then thieves in Tendorvasht.

One of the sleeves of his robes was rolled up. Kosram was staring intently at his inner forearm. There was no book or scroll, although his lips mumbled words and his eyes darted from left to right. Was he reading something?

And for that matter, how had she gotten here? What had happened?

Thrace closed her eyes. She wrapped the blanket around herself, as did her tail. Rotting hell. Thrace focused upon the unwanted appendage, making it unwind itself from her body. Gods she hated when it did that.

It slowly came back to her. She...she had been fighting some bounty hunters. She’d tried to escape but, she’d been shot! Her right-hand groped her left shoulder but only felt smooth, unmarred skin. But it hadn’t been a dream though. She had used her remaining cantrips to fight back against three of them. There had been six, but only three had caught up to her. Right? They had been overpowering her and then...nothing.

Had Kosram saved her? Why? She’d run away from him. Why go to all that trouble?

Then, that bounty hunter’s words rose to the forefront of her mind - Assisting in impersonating an Eldritch Knight? You and whoever you are working for are crazy.

She froze, eyes widening.

He finally noticed that she was awake and staring at him. Kosram unrolled his sleeve, covering his arm. The wooden cup was set down on the table. He slowly stood, hands open and palms facing her.

A spark of panic coursed through her whole body. Thrace wanted to run, flee.

But that little voice in the back of her mind spoke, just like the Gods did to heroines in the stories. Instead of a god, it was Papa’s voice, calm and soothing.

Stop, take a breath, and consider the facts, Little Clover. Don’t always go rushing into things. Remember to look about at the woods, not just at the town at the end of the road.

Thrace sighed. But, Papa had always been right. This Half-Orc, Kosram, was confusing. She didn’t know enough. That meant only one thing - time to make a list. Lists were useful; lists were necessary. Without them, life was just too chaotic to manage.

She based her lists off of her favorite game - Rot or Not. It was a simple game, you and another would choose a topic and list off different things in that topic. On the count of three, both participants would say whether the thing was “Rot”, or bad, or “not”. It was a good way to learn the truth about another and to just learn more about them. At the end of her list, she would add up the “Rots” and the “Nots”. Whichever one numbered the most would determine whether something was good or bad.

Alright. The topic or question this time - was this Kosram someone she could use? Well, the first thing that came to mind was that because of him she’d lost Papa’s tome. Definitely not, so definitely a “Rot”. Secondly, he’s very dangerous. That was actually both a “Rot” and a “Not”. Yes, he may be dangerous and thus may harm her, but such a man could assist Thrace. And she acceded that he hadn’t actually harmed her yet.

Kosram could also cast high tier magic. Any wizard that could cast third was among the most powerful in the Queendom. Maybe she could learn from him. There were spells in Papa’s tome that she could not make sense of nor cast. With his help, that might be possible.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Thrace. One thing at a time.

Thrace took a deep breath. Don’t panic. Don’t do anything rash. You haven’t finished the list yet. Only then could she truly make a decision.

But, she would not be controlled again. She was familiar with his charm magic (which she marked as a big “Rot” on the list). If he tried to do anything to her - her left hand formed a claw under the blanket as the incantation for “Shocking Grasp” rose to fill her mind - Thrace would be ready.

“You’re awake,” Kosram finally said. “Gods be praised. Um. How do you feel?”

“I-I-I.” Thrace took a deep breath and opened her eyes, before speaking. Focus. Calm down.“I feel good.”

“How’s that shoulder? I hope you don’t mind, but I used the health potion you took...well.” He paused before continuing. “I used it to heal your shoulder.”

“It feels good,” Thrace said slowly, rolling the shoulder. “In fact, it feels great, just as if it had never happened.”

“Good.” Kosram nodded a couple of times. “Good.” A look of relief was on his face, but he kept his distance.

Thrace waited for him to say something, anything further. But nothing else came. Just silence. He just stood there. Eventually, Kosram’s gaze drifted downwards to the floor. Thrace found her own eyes darting between the window and the door. Could she make it to the door? Although, her track record proved that trying to run would not work out so well.

No. Wait. Just wait.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the Half-Orc strode toward her. Thrace began to mutter an incantation under her breath and her body tensed. If she needed to, she was ready to strike.

Kosram froze, putting up his hands once more. “Hey. I just wanted to cast an illusion spell upon you. Your “Disguise Self” spell dispelled days ago. Plus, I imagine that most of your spells have vanished from your memory as well. Since you seem to like masquerading as an Uruk” - he placed a heavy emphasis on that term - “I am willing to cast an illusion upon you. With your permission first.”

Thrace narrowed her eyes. Well, it couldn’t hurt. She would recognize his Charm magic if he tried to do anything on the sly.

She nodded.

Kosram’s hands rose in front of him as fists, save for the pinky and thumb fingers. Those remained stretched outwards. He touched the tips of all his pinkies and thumbs together forming a diamond shape with his hands. He spoke aloud an arcane incantation, one that she was unfamiliar with. It was a lengthy incantation, going on for at least two minutes. But, when he uttered the last word, he broke the diamond shape.

A shimmer of purple magic danced away from his hands. It raced towards her, quick as a lightning bolt, and slammed into her body. Her vision went fuzzy for a moment but it refocused after a moment. Thrace reached down under the blankets, her hand feeling for her backside.

There was no tail. Good. That was a “Not” in his favor. Kosram earned a second one for asking for permission this time as well.

Also, Thrace noticed that she could visually perceive this illusion. He had recreated her clothes, dressing her in trousers, white gloves, and a long-sleeve shirt. Thick wool socks hugged her feet. The collar of the shirt was high, just like his, and was done in a similar style as the Followers of the Tenets. Looking at Follower garb made her shudder a little inwardly. Ever since the Hall of Erudition, she’d become way too familiar with this particular style of dress.

Kosram took a step backward, eyes glancing over the parts of her body not covered by the blanket, before nodding satisfied. He gestured to something behind and above her. “There’s a mirror hanging on the wall behind you. I take pride in my craft but, if I did anything wrong or forgot a detail please tell me. I’m not too familiar with Follower garb so, bare with me.”

Thrace slowly turned her head behind her, unwilling to take her eyes off of Kosram. But, the moment the mirror came into sight, she couldn’t help but focus on scrutinizing her appearance.

It was a flawless recreation of the illusion she had worn when they had first met. From the tusks jutting from the corners of her mouth to the complete lack of tiefling features, Thrace was once more a Half-Orc.

But the most remarkable part of this illusion was the tactile feel to it. She could feel the tightness of the collar around her neck. Her shirt and trousers had that oh so familiar stiffness that made Thrace almost feel like her entire body was being constricted by a Sothrysian snake.

This was a level of illusion magic she could only dream of casting. Casting illusions on others? At least, third tier. Maybe even higher. Yet again, one more “Not”.

“How’d I do?” He waited for some form of confirmation but, Thrace just stared at her appearance. A long sigh left his lips. “Well, I’m going out to get some food from the cook for you. Then...we can talk.”

He exited out the door, slowly closing it behind him. Thrace waited, straining her ears listening for the click of a lock or the scrap of a turning key. Nothing. The door was unlocked. His footsteps faded away before being lost in the creaks and groans of the ship.

She scrambled out of the bunk, doing a quick search of the room. Underneath her bunk was her belt, her bag, and a spare cloak. Thrace quickly unpacked her bag; all of her things were in there. Even her spell tome.

She checked her belt as well. She was running low on components but, besides the healing potion, it looked like nothing had been taken. Thrace let out a sigh. Another “Not” then.

Checking underneath Kosram’s bunk, she found his own pack and his belt stashed under there. His short swords were unattended to as well. Thrace felt her fingers itch, but figuring out why his swords were special wasn’t important right now.

Looking through the lone, circular window - one that actually had glass, wow - Thrace saw a second ship moored beside the ship she was on. Seagulls flew above, riding upon the morning breeze. It was early morning still but, sailors were already out and about. Moving cargo, performing maintenance on their ships, or stumbling back to said ships after a night of carousing. Off to her left, she saw the now familiar sight of the walls separating the Inner and Outerwall districts. Good, she was still in Tendorvasht and at the Southern Docks.

Lifting the latch, the window swung inward and up. The cold breeze made her involuntarily shiver. The lap of the waves filled her ears as did the cawing of the seagulls above. She sized up the window. It was just large enough that she could squeeze through and make her escape. Poking her head through and looking around, Thrace saw she would be immediately deposited on the dock and not in the water. Good, if she decided to escape; she couldn’t swim.

Time to finish up the list. So far, the tally was - her eyes widened a bit - three “Rot”s to Four “Not”s. Huh. Granted, two of those “Rot”s were big ones. But, it seemed that the list was telling her to try and pursue enlisting this “Knight’s” assistance. After all, he had this guilty expression on his face. Maybe Thrace could capitalize on that guilt.

She didn’t need to trust him. Thrace just needed to trust his skills, abilities, and malleability.

Thus, for the first time since she had left home, Thrace did not flee. She settled down at the round table, flipping open her spell tome to study her spells once more. It was always best to be prepared when a girl decided to court danger.

※

Kosram stood outside the door carrying a tray of food. Since the Baptism was docked, the cook was able to prepare better fare then what would be available while at sea. The chef, upon hearing that food was for his “sick daughter”, had piled the tray with slices of bread, cheeses, cold meats, and a warm glass of milk as well. A suitable peace offering Kosram imagined, in addition to the illusion.

Don’t interrogate her, Kosram thought. You need to win her trust. And, treating her like those Crownsguard did isn’t going to help. But, he still needed all the facts. The past week of skulking about, tossing around some coin, and asking questions had not stirred up all the answers he’d been looking for. Nor satisfied his curiosity.

But, he was nervous. It felt like everything he did was wrong. Thrace clearly saw him as an enemy, a threat. But he was her only chance if she wanted to get that tome back. 

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

And, to top it all off, Kosram had almost broken his cover when he had tried to tip the cook. He had been able to hide the coin and stuff it back into his pocket before the cook or his shadow could see it.

This disguise may have bought them passage on this vessel - the Baptism was exclusive to only Followers of the Tenets - but it was proving troublesome. Kosram didn’t have any experience with the Followers beyond what he’d heard in rumors and stories. He knew for certain that Followers never handled their coin directly. To touch coin or any form of wealth with bare skin was considered a sin. To even gaze upon it was almost as bad. Apparently, Followers hired intermediaries called, “Sin-Takers”, who handled the coin directly. He’d heard that most were not members of the sect.

The ship’s captain, a devout Follower by the name of Horstead, had offered the services of one of his crew to act as Kosram’s Sin-Taker. Kosram hadn’t been able to refuse and now, he had this eerily-pleasant Dura shadowing him about the ship.

Kosram looked down and to his left. Ingdun, hands crossed behind his back, looked back and smiled at him. Kosram suppressed a shudder. Any normal person would’ve asked why he had been standing here for nearly ten minutes. Instead, Ingdun just stood there humming to himself.

The Sin-Taker was actually thin for a dwarf. His thin form, contrasted to his bushy beard, made for a strange, almost comical sight. Plus, he smelled of fish and stale ale. A ghastly combination. Kosram took a deep breath, shifted the tray to one hand, and grasped the door handle.

“Parenting troubles, Enlightened One?” asked Ingdun finally.

Of course, now he decides to speak. “Pardon me?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been standing here as still as a frightened hare, Enlightened One. The hesitation, the indecision.” He took a single step towards Kosram. Kosram fought not to reflexively step away. “You and your daughter are not on good terms?”

“Um. Yes, you are correct. I recently...made a mistake and I hurt...her feelings. We’ve barely spoken in, well, pleasant terms since.”

Ingdun nodded sagely. “Ah. I understand. I myself have ten children. And, by the gods, my youngest daughters are a handful-”

“Good on you!” Kosram said, cutting him off. “Please, I imagine that we can speak of this at a later time.” He opened the door and stepped inside the cabin. “May the Tenets guide thee.”

Kosram saw a look of annoyance flash across Ingdun’s face before that smile reasserted itself. He bowed. “And may they watch over you as well, Enlightened One.”

The door was slammed shut. Kosram slumped up against it before letting out a sigh.

Thrace sat at the round table with a straight-backed posture. She looked at him her right eyebrow cocked. But, she rose and curtsied to him; an odd gesture give that she wasn’t wearing a skirt.

“May the Tenets guide thee, Father,” she said, her voice full of an artificial cheerfulness. Thrace spoke the greeting with the ease of either an expert liar or someone familiar with the Followers. She was also louder than necessary.

Kosram opened his mouth but she put a finger to her own. Then, the finger gestured to both ears before pointing at the door. Kosram immediately understood her. Say nothing out of the ordinary. Eavesdropping possible.

He flared his nostrils, breathing deeply. Quickly filtering through the scents and smells, he could smell Ingdun’s horrid fish, ale smell. It was strong, stronger then it would be if Kosram had been smelling the traces of his passing. That damned Dura was eavesdropping. How had Thrace known?

She gave him a glare - Act natural. Respond.

“And may they watch over you as well, Daughter,” He responded, raising his own voice.

“Is that food for me?” she asked. Thrace stood and retrieved the tray from him, flashing him a winning smile before sitting back at the table. “I am starving. I apologize that I’ve been feeling under the weather. I still feel a bit faint but” - she held out a hand - “I think I have enough strength for morning prayers.”

“I’m...glad to hear that, Daughter.” Kosram joined her at the table. He reached for her hand, but Thrace quickly snatched it away. Head cocked, eyes closed, she was intently listening for something. Kosram began to sniff once more for Ingdun. Yes, his scent was no longer strong near the door.

After a minute, Thrace opened her eyes. Her straight back postured and fake cheeriness faded. “Good he’s gone.” She spoke in Orgashk. A further precaution against eavesdropping, he imagined. “Ugh, I hate Sin-Takers. Vicious, hateful weasels all of ‘em.”

“How exactly did you know he would be eavesdropping?” Kosram asked, speaking in kind.

Thrace began to tear into the meal like a pack of wolves pouncing on a fallen deer. She tore into the bread slices with savage bites and shoved meat and cheese in after. After a long gulp of milk, Thrace answered.

“Well you see, Half-Orc”- Kosram’s eyes narrowed at the slur - “the thing about Sin-Takers that most heathens don’t know is that they are in fact members of the sect. In fact, the rumor that they are not is a lie fomented by the Follower’s themselves. Sin-Takers act as spies, able to go and act outside of the Tenets. They also police the Followers themselves, ensuring that members of the sect are pious, faithful, and ‘righteous’.”

She spoke the last word with a sardonic grin. “I hope that all of ‘em freeze in Four Hells. Let the Devils take ‘em I say.”

“You seem to know a lot about the sect,” Kosram noted. “Are you a member? A former member perhaps?”

Thrace let out a snort. “Rotting hells no. I-” She cut herself and returned to munching on her meal.

Kosram let out a sigh.

“Look,” he began. “Let’s start over, again. For the second time.” He put out his hand. “My name is Kosram Paltos. It’s nice to meet you Thrace.”

Thrace stared at his outstretched hand. She frowned but slowly extended her own, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sir Knight. My name is Thrace Dalwin.” Their handshake ended. “Thanks for getting me mixed up in your shit.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me. You see, when those bounty hunters were trying to snatch me off the streets it wasn’t because of anything I did. Their leader, the Ginger, said, and I quote, ‘Assisting in impersonating an Eldritch Knight? You and whoever you were working for are crazy.’ End quote.” She leaned over the table, resting on her forearms as she stared Kosram right in the eyes. “Who the hell really are you, ‘Kosram’? And why are you pretending to be an Eldritch Knight?”

Kosram stared back at her. Her face was twisted into a scowl. Her eyes were narrowed and bore an intensity not found in one so young. In her Uruk form, the tusks almost made her menacing. Well, this certainly wasn’t going the way he imagined. How did this turn into an interrogation against him so fast?

“I have my reasons,” he finally said, speaking slowly. “While I do apologize for getting you mixed up in my business but until we establish a level of trust I am not going to tell you anything further. And, keep in mind, that my friend and I saved you from those bounty hunters. I didn’t need to yet I did. I feel like that wipes away some of that debt.”

"Last night, they were after me because of you!" She scoffed. “So, you still owe me an answer and more.” Thrace began to list off things with her fingers. “Because of you, I lost Papa’s tome. Because of you, I am now an accomplice to a death penalty level crime. And, you also used Charm magic on me which is the rotting worst.” Three of her fingers were viciously waved in his face. “It’s three to rotting zero, Half-Orc! Time to cough up some coin! You clearly owe me!”

The tirade left the girl breathless, chest heaving from the exertion. In the silence that rolled over them after, Kosram finally noticed that the window was open. Not a smidge which would allow for a bit of fresh air in, but wide open. Wide enough for a girl to escape if she wanted.

But Thrace was still here. That said something. Instead of trying to bolt when they first met or when she had stormed off back at the Aden Lodge, Thrace had remained.

Kosram intended to make good on his promise. But with the current status of..whatever, this was, it would be difficult for the two to work together without a level of trust.

Then, a spark of inspiration hit him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. It was a standard gold piece, emblazoned with the Queen’s raven sigil on one side and the symbol of a crown on the other. He flipped the coin to her. She caught it.

“Alright, let’s make a deal, one that can help establish some trust. That coin right there is now our special ‘Honesty Token’. If you have a question for me, hand me that there coin and I will answer honestly. When I have the Honesty Token, I am able to do the same to you. Thus, we are limited to one question at a time and we can certainly work on growing that trust. Sound fair?”

Thrace’s eyes flickered between the coin and him.

“I can also cast ‘Zone of Truth’ if that would help. It’s a second tier spell that-”

“I know what it does,” she said abruptly. “No that won’t be necessary. And don’t ever cast that spell on me. Ever. But” - the coin was flipped back towards him - “let’s test your sincerity.”

Kosram caught the coin. “Alright. Ask me anything.”

“How’d you get that pendant? Did you kill an Eldritch Knight?”

Kosram froze for a moment but spoke. She would learn about this eventually. “It was given to me by my mentor. He was an Eldritch Knight himself, a Master of the Order. His name was Graug, an Orc. Our agreement stipulates that I am only compelled to only answer the first question but I will answer the second as a show of good faith. No, I didn’t kill Graug. But, yes I’ve killed other Eldritch Knights. Fifteen by my count. Sixteen actually, due to last night.”

Thrace was studying his face intently. After a long moment, she nodded.

“Huh. You’re not lying.” She leaned back into her chair, eyes never leaving him. “Sixteen?”

Kosram stood up, walking to his bunk. As he kneeled down, he noted that the belt’s position was now a few fingers to the right. She’d gone through his things. Later, he would have to check to make sure nothing had been taken. He reached into his pack, unfastening a secret flap before taking out its content.

He dumped fifteen Order pendants on the table. They made a cascade of clinking sounds as they struck the wood surface. Thrace’s eyes widened a little. A ray of sunshine that shined through the window illuminated the pile, making the emeralds glow. One of her hands reached for the pile, lightly brushing against them as if fearful that they would fade away if she touched them.

She let out a barking laugh before slapping the table twice. Savage glee danced in her eyes.

“So you are dangerous,” she stated with a leer. Thrace, once more, leaned towards him but with a different kind of calculating eye. It reminded him of how some shoppers eyed up weapons for sale. The allure of danger was intoxicating. But there was something else, an undercurrent of something darker. Kosram recognized it - it was vengeance.

Kosram felt himself lean back, eyes wide. This was quite a shift in her personality. He’d seen the calculating wit, the raw anger, and felt her vicious tongue lash at him with slurs. But this, this was something different. A vengeance that burned like a slow flame, cooking away before it completely consumed.

It reminded him of his own.

Thrace beckoned towards him, making a flipping motion with her fingers. “Go ahead. Do it. I’ll answer your question.” There was a savage, eager tone to her words.

Kosram hesitated for a moment before flipping the coin to her. She caught it with both her hands.

“Since your father is the recently murdered Archwizard of Palson, why were the Crownsguard after your father’s tome but not you?”

There was silence for a moment before Thrace spoke.

“How do you know this?” she asked, confirming his suspicions.

“You’ve been in a coma for a week. Once I hid you here, I had plenty of time to throw a little coin around and ask a few questions,” he replied. “Granted, you just confirmed my suspicions, so thank you. You told Larisa your full name so that gave me somewhere to start. But, even if those Crownsguard were gullible, they did have one thing right. There was no way a common street rat would get their hands on a wizard’s tome. Thus, you had to be related to the Archwizard somehow.

“There are all sorts of rumors flying about what exactly happened. The only consistent things I learned were: that the Archwizard’s certainly dead, that his only daughter is missing, that no one could agree on how the Archwizard died and that Archwizard Yurin Dalwin was a tiefling, a green-skinned tiefling. It wasn’t much of a stretch to guess that you are his daughter. Now, the fact that you are still alive means that something is going on. Some conspiracy that has even fooled the underworld and nobles alike.”

He leaned towards her. “Now, answer my question - since your father is the recently murdered Archwizard of Palson, why were the Crownsguard after your father’s tome but not you?”

Thrace just sat there, wide-eyed. Her energy before vanished like smoke. She reminded him of a puppy that had finally roused the anger an older hound with it’s yapping. She was unsure of what to do.

You may be smart, Kosram thought with a small smile, and you may have gotten the jump on me at the Aden Lodge, but you’ve still got plenty to learn.

“Papa was doing arcane research for the Crown,” she finally said, her voice low enough to almost be a whisper. “I don’t know what. But, he would spend many hours, sometimes whole days at the Guild Hall in Palson. The most I ever got out of him was that what he was doing was ‘necessary’.”

“Really.” Kosram scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Palson was only annexed into the Queendom two years ago. I’m surprised that an Archwizard would willingly work with the folk that conquered his city. With Guild assistance, he could’ve easily relocated both of you out of the country.”

She shrugged, before pulling her legs up atop the chair and wrapping her arms around them. “Not much really changed. Things weren’t so bad. Well, at least for.” Thrace gestured to herself.

“Benevora is a little more accepting of the other races. I’ve never been to Palson, but I’ve heard tell of the Race Purges.” Kosram shook his head. “Never mind that. Now, you don’t need to tell me what happened. For now, tell me about your father’s tome.”

“Um.” She took a deep breath. “The...night it happened, Papa came to me with his tome. He handed it to me and said, ‘I need you to do something for me. I need you to go to take my tome and go to Tendorvasht. There is a Dura there, a Benevoran woman by the name of Noma. She works at a book store called, ‘The Whispering Word’. She can complete my work. She will take care of you. She will teach you what you need to know. Go. Go now!’

“At that point, I left my house with a sack of food and clothes. When I made it to the end of Everwood Avenue, a group of Crownsguard marched up to my front door and-” Her voice choked off into a sob.

Kosram instinctively moved towards her but froze, hand hovering above the table. Thrace didn’t seem to notice with her face buried in her knees. He felt his heart pang for her. She was a tempest of emotion, a scale that was wildly swinging between overwhelming sadness and thirsting vengeance. It was like staring at a mirror for him. If he closed his own eyes, sometimes he would hear Graug’s agonized screams like an echo that never faded.

“Thrace,” he said in a calm, tender voice. “When you read through your father’s spell tome, did you see anything that might’ve resembled his research? Notes? Diagrams? Anything of the sort?”

She sniffled, not raising her face. “I didn’t understand most of his spell tome. Most of the spells he had written in there were beyond my abilities. Papa wasn’t an Archwizard for nothing.”

“And you never found this bookstore, the 'Whispering Word'?"

"I was going to, but my invisibility spell faded. I was trying to maintain too many spells. That's when I got accosted."

"Okay. I understand. Thrace?” Her face rose, tear-streaked and with eyes reddened by crying. “You don’t need to answer any more questions, okay? Just keep the Honesty Token on you. But, remember that I swore you a blood oath. Urtash. If you still can’t really trust me, know, without a doubt, that I will help you get your father’s tome back. You’re right. It was my fault that it got taken. Thus, it is my responsibility to help get it back. Okay?”

She hesitated but finally gave him a vigorous nod. Kosram gave her a smile.

“Good. Alright, I am going to go out, there are a few errands I need to run. For now, please remain in this room. Once I can formulate a plan of action, I will come back for you. Okay?”

Another nod.

“Good. See you in a few hours. Although, if I don’t return stay on the ship. The Baptism leaves tomorrow and I have paid for passage as far as Tellura. Once you are there, find an Uruk woman named Hassar at the docks. She will take care of you.”

Before Kosram could receive an answer, he stood up, quickly strapped on his component and weapons belt, and left the room. Once the door shut, he took a deep breath. Progress was made. He learned just enough that his course was now clear.

He had a lot of work to do.

※

Thrace listened to the Half-Orcs footsteps recede into the distance. The moment she could no longer hear them, she began to wipe away the tears. Maybe she had laid it on too thick. Crying was a rotting, ugly thing. Thrace hated it. But, it Kosram was firmly in the palm of her hand. Granted, he was a sharper than expected but he would definitely help her.

But the tears didn’t stop.

“The ruse is over,” she muttered to herself. Thrace stomped over to her bunk and stood on it, looking at the mirror. “Thrace, you can stop crying.”

But the tears kept coming, in fact, they started to flow stronger than before.

“Stop!” Her hands rubbed vigorously away at her eyes. “Stop!”

A wave of emotion began to well up inside her. It was a flood, one that, just like her tears, she could not stop. Thrace finally gave in. She collapsed atop the bed, body wracked with sobs.

“Papa. Papa. Papa.”