The Kirgo was one of the many, many inns scattered throughout the wall’s interior. Their proliferation was more necessity than just for profit: very few mercenaries owned a home and even fewer had somewhere to call home. That was the harsh reality of life spent in Umbra.
Rase and Naru were part of the exception, but their reason for purchasing a home was overwhelmingly simple: to give Tasha a more stable environment. She had acclimated well to the erratic life of a mercenary, but she was still young. It was only right she have a place to call home.
Suli drained the rest of her drink before setting her cup down on the table. It was a non-alcoholic one, despite the temptation; there would be time for that later– and she needed a clear head in this moment.
There was a long-standing agreement between her and the Kirgo’s owner. So long as she dealt with any trouble during her stay, there would always be a room for her.
That was easy enough. Her presence alone dissuaded most would-be troublemakers, and on the few times Suli had intervened, the incidents ended without bloodshed.
She looked up as a smattering of whispers rose from the others gathered. There were about a dozen others in the common area, all mercenaries.
The reason for their clamor was apparent: Ember stood in the doorway. The dim light washed over him as he stepped in, making that odd cloak of his appear even darker. The smooth, expressionless mask on his face swiveled from side to side until fixing on Suli.
As he approached, the direction of his eyes seemed somewhat off. It took her a moment to realize why: her staff, propped up against the bartop next to her. Suli cursed herself silently. I should have left it in my room. This was meant to be a talk. Nothing more.
Deep down, though, a part of her was grateful for its presence. She trusted the masked mercenary, but only just. Whatever relationship they had was still new and tentative. It would take time to work past that– especially depending on how this conversation went.
“Should I have brought my weapon?” Ember asked quietly as he took the seat next on her right– opposite her staff. His voice was quieter; muffled by his mask even more than usual.
Suli shook her head, fighting the urge to reach for her staff. “No. I have an agreement with the owner of this inn.”
“I see.” He seemed to accept that answer.
“I asked you here to talk to you. That’s all we’re going to do. I’m not into the whole belittle, blackmail, and threaten the people that I work with thing.”
Ember’s shoulders seemed to relax at that. “I’m glad.”
“But I do need to talk with you.”
“About the commission?”
Suli nodded. “About the commission.” She was glad he breached the topic first; not only was it easier this way, but it seemed a show of sincerity. “Does it have anything to do with you?”
“Probably.”
She blinked. That was not the answer she’d expected– or hoped for– but it kept his sincerity intact, at the very least.
“You don’t know for certain?”
“I don’t.”
“Why might it have something to do with you?”
“I need answers.”
“And those answers lie in the elven kingdom?”
Another nod.
“You are like Tasha, aren’t you?” Suli asked, suddenly sure of it. It was the most likely answer. Besides him being an elf, of course– something that Worrick had vehemently denied.
Ember shifted in his seat, causing the dark fabric draped over his form to undulate and ripple. When he answered, his voice was hardly audible, his voice was raw.
“Yes.” There was a world of pain contained within that single word. “Though the circumstances differ.”
“... What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Suli bristled. “I don’t care about your circumstances,” she said harshly. “Neither do the others. But this is an escort mission– not a time for you to excise your anger and desire for vengeance. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” he responded, his voice flat. “I want answers. Revenge comes later.”
“And if violence is needed to obtain those answers?”
“Then I won’t chase them.”
“Good.” Suli reached for her staff, letting the traces of power that it held run through her. “This whole thing is meant to be small and secret, but while we’re there, we’ll be representatives of the human kingdom. If you’re not sure of something, then remain silent.” Her voice was heavier, in that way it became when threaded with magic. “If you step too far out of line, do something to endanger the rest of us… I’ll be forced to act. I may not want to, but I will.”
“I understand,” Ember answered easily. “When do we leave?”
“Not for a long while. The journey ahead is long. It will take time for us to gather all the supplies, find maps, plot routes.” Suli sighed. “There’s a lot of preparatory work to be done. Most of that falls to me.”
“Do you need help?”
“... You know I just threatened you, right?”
The masked mercenary shrugged. “I know.”
“And you still offered to help?”
“I understand where you’re coming from. You’re worried about the other three, right?” Ember stood. “I may not have known any of you for long, but I can tell. The four of you have been through a lot together.” There was something odd in his voice– something between desire and jealousy. “I don’t want to jeopardize that.”
“Wait.” Suli caught his cloak as he began to move away– and hastily readjusted her position as he nearly pulled her out of the chair. Ember stiffened, but fell still.
“What?”
“Are you getting us wrapped up in something here?” She asked quietly. “No matter how I cut it, there’s something greater at play here. If you know something… I want to know it, too.” Her voice softened. “I’m asking this as your companion.”
Silence fell between them, and just as she thought there would be no answer, Ember responded.
“You may be.” He pulled his cloak free from her grasp. “But whatever it is, I don’t know. I can’t make any promises.” His voice softened. “Whether you decide to accept or not doesn’t matter.”
And with that, he walked away.
Suli had half a mind to call him back, but she decided against it. Their business was done– there was no reason to risk antagonizing him.
“Haah.” With a sigh, she set the staff back down where it rested.
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“Long day?” The barkeep asked casually, stepping back up to countertop, an empty class in his hand.
“In a way,” Suli answered tiredly. Though not physically tired, her mind was strained thin: every waking second since her meeting with Worrick had been spent trying to extricate the truth from the many different possibilities.
Well.
Not many possibilities.
There was one thing she knew for certain: this commission was endorsed by the royal family, but not created by them. That in itself was not terribly surprising. The royal family, for all the vitriol they had spewed during the war, wanted to mend their relations with the elves.
But the fact they’d endorsed it meant there was some other influence in the background. One strong enough to garner their interest. There were very few people capable of that within the city.
Then there was the other option– that the elves were the first to table this offer. That seemed unlikely, and more importantly, Suli knew nothing about how their society worked.
In the end, neither option was particularly desirable. No matter the rewards. Of course, Suli could only think that way because her family wasn’t at risk of being broken apart– something she was distinctly aware of.
Should I ask for reassignment? I don’t want to be the reason they don’t take this commission. Even as she asked herself that, she knew the answer. She’d long since grown fond of the frequently shared nighttimes with Rase, Naru, and Tasha.
Pulling a coin from her pocket, Suli placed it on the table. “Another drink. Something alcoholic this time.” All the preparatory work could wait for the days to come– and for now, she needed to ease her mind. However temporarily that may be.
The bartender swiped the coin, though his expression was one of worry. “I know the boss likes having you here to keep trouble down,” he said lightly. “I would hate to see you become the trouble.”
She laughed, replacing her staff in its place against the top. “Don’t worry.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.” Moments later, there was a glass of rose-colored liquid on the table.
Suli took a sip of it; it was sweet, with a slightly bitter undertaste. “Thank you.” She retrieved another coin. “For your silence.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Not the sort of thing I’d be sharing anyways,” he said curtly. “No point in selling information that ends with my head in a basket.”
Suli tapped the coin. “Still. I’d feel better if you take it.”
He accepted it with a smile. “Alright. Thank you.”
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Selerim wound his arm back– and then hurled the dagger forward, straight towards the training dummy. It wasn’t really a dummy so much as a lump of straw, but it was still serviceable. Especially for his purposes.
The dagger rattled as it snaked through the air, its polished links glinting erratically in the sunlight. Even after so much time spent in the bright days of the human kingdom, the dazzling display was still nearly too much for the hollow.
Why does it affect me so much more? He wondered, gritting his teeth as he whipped the weapon to one side. Time had taken its toll. It felt slow and sluggish; the chain itself moved too slowly, and the dagger trailed too far behind its grey arc.
This was the very first form Corvus taught him, and the one he was most comfortable with. His movements felt familiar; yet slow and sluggish. They lacked the explosive, whiplash-like force needed to guide the weapon accurately. Years worth of muscle memory was the only reason he still felt somewhat comfortable.
The dagger’s tip– and only the tip– cut into the dummy, causing straw to spill out of the sinewy sack. That, at least, was something that had come back quickly. The weapon was a couple fingers longer than what Selerim was used to, but adjusting to that was simple.
“You look good to me,” Gwyn said from her position, seated cross-legged on the ground. “Although I guess I wouldn’t really know what to look for.” Both of the dwarven staffs lay across her knees, their silvery hue diffused with the sun’s warm orange.
“I’m not,” Selerim said, yanking on the chain and catching the dagger as it jumped towards him. “I’m too slow… and too weak.”
“If you say so. What about the other stuff?”
“Other stuff?”
“She nodded. Your whole fiery blood… thing.”
“Ah.” He looked down at his palm. “It’s… progressing.” He sighed. “I wish Corvus was here to help me. He would know what to do… I’m sure of it.”
“Will you show me?”
Selerim hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I know you’re worried, but you managed to avoid burning the forest down– or hurting anyone– on your trip,” Gwyn pointed out. “Do you really think you’d waver when something more important is at stake?”
He shook his head. “Even so. Why are you so curious?”
“You told me you have fire for blood now. Or something like that. Wouldn’t it be weirder if I wasn’t curious about it?”
She has a point.
“Alright.” Selerim pushed past his unease. He could control it now; at the very least, enough to keep from harming his sister. Hanging the chain loosely from his shoulder, he dug the dagger’s tip into his palm.
He’d crudely blunted it before now, hammering the edge over itself so that the chance of accidental injury was terribly low. The tip he’d left just barely sharp enough to cut, in order to help with his practice.
A point of bain burned on his palm as the grey metal sank into his flesh. What seeped out of the wound was closer to fire than blood; pale red wisps that flowed and flickered, coalescing into the shape of a small ball atop his palm– just as he willed it.
“Whoa,” Gwyn breathed, pushing herself into a seating position. The pale red light stained her bone-white hair as she leaned in. “That’s so cool.”
“Don’t touch it,” Selerim said, moving his hand away preemptively.
“I won’t,” she promised. “Do you… do you have to injure yourself every time?”
“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Or receive one.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know if I like that.”
“I don’t either,” he answered with a smile, “but it’s kept me alive. I wouldn’t have been able to see you again without it… I’m grateful for that.”
“Me too,” Gwyn responded solemnly. Her blue eyes flicked down ever so slightly. “Your would has already closed,” she observed.
Selerim closed his hand, and the small ball of fire winked out. “I heal fast.”
“And from anything?
He nodded. “So far.”
His sister grabbed hold of his hand in both of hers. “You feel warm,” she breathed. “Another effect of your Feast?”
“As far as I can tell. The cold doesn’t bother me anymore.”
Gwyn curled his fingers closed, keeping her own trapped under them. “Don’t be careless,” she said quietly. “And don’t put yourself in harm’s way just because you heal. Even if it doesn’t matter, I… I don’t like the idea of you being in pain. I never have.”
“I’m never careless,” Selerim said slowly, looking down at her. She kept her head down, her face hidden underneath a mess of dirty white hair.
“I know,” she murmured. “But still. I know you’ll push yourself, so please just… “ Gwyn’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that,” Selerim said, dropping his weapon and reaching down to ruffle her hair. “If I have to burn down a whole city to keep you and mom safe, I will. And…” he took a deep breath. “If I can save someone I care about by putting myself in harm’s way, I will.
“I know you will,” she whispered, extricating her fingers and throwing her arms around him. “That’s part of what makes you you. It’s part of why I love you.”
With her face pressed up right against his torso, Selerim felt her words mingle with her heartbeat.
“Just… be careful. Especially with this new mission coming.”
“If you’re worried–”
Gwyn cut him off. “I am.” She pulled away. “But you should still go. I want to know what happened.” Her voice tightened. “Why everyone died. Mom doesn’t talk about it, but I know she does too. If this is what it takes, then that’s a small price to pay. Just be careful.”
Selerim pulled her into another hug; his sister didn’t resist in the slightest. “I will be. I promise.”
“Good.” She struggled free. “Then let’s go. Mom is waiting.”
“For?”
Gwyn audibly sighed. “You forgot, didn’t you?” She turned back towards the building. “Mom wants to find a new place to live. We can’t stay here forever.”