Two men make their way swiftly through the sprawling streets of Fendaul. The man on the left strides powerfully, his steps deliberate, his oaken leather clad heels pounding the cobblestones. The sun darkened skin of his arms accentuate the myriad of faded white scars, pulled taut with the bulge of dense muscles. Rend’s clear blue eyes scan the crowd about the two, alert. The man on the right moves with a languid grace, every limb relaxed, every movement swift and agile, every step balanced. Rend walks like a controlled and powerful warrior while Canton walks with the animal grace of a panther, bestial. The lithe figure cocks his head to the left, cocksure grin flashing as he thumbs his nose, his amber hawk eyes flaring as his grin widens.
“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you are?” Canton said. “Even with your head start, I never thought it would take me two years to track your slow ass.” Rend turned to the right, his own grin matching Canton’s as he clapped the hawk eyed man firmly on his back.
“There’s an easy reason for that.” He said, the two men stepping from the shadowed cobbled road jammed between squat and crowded wooden dwellings on to a long paved bridge, arching tremulously over a clear babbling stream. The two men moved through open space, the crowd and their deafening murmur parting around them.“It’s because your a moron!” Canton laughed, eyes drawn to a passing brunette who flushed and scurried past.
“I could cross a hundred miles and a score of towns without track nor hint nor whisper,” Canton said, “then the next five towns would all be in some mad uproar over a blond stranger who slew some monster, or ended some feud, or killed a count.” Canton quirked his eyebrows at the quietly chuckling man beside him. “I tracked you to Bellville you know.” He said. Rend’s grin widened, splitting his weathered cheeks.
“They still think I’m dead?” he asked.
“And rotting.” said Canton. “A dozen men swore you were hung in the village square. The Counts daughter wept whenever I mentioned your name. Adorable woman she was. I would say she was inconsolable, but, well, I consoled her.” Canton winked at his friend. Rend sighed, glancing from his friend to the square around them as they stepped from the bridge to a wealthier part of town. He took note of every gaudy robbed and ringed figure around them, shaking his head slightly and scratching at his dark blond stubble.
“You certainly haven’t changed much,” he said, “still chasing more skirts than a Peldinnian princeling, and with more success too.”
“Speaking of skirts, I don’t see many around here.” Canton said, pivoting in a circle, his arms gesturing wide about him. “I could have sworn we were heading for a tavern and cold tankard.”
“Keep your pants on for a quarter-bell and we’ll get as a drunk as a pair of rich whores on a holiday.” Rend said with a chuckle, navigating the bright square and entering a side street more tightly packed, filled with the heavy acid scent of tanning leather and labour. “I’ve got some loot to sell off first.” The two men continued down the winding roads, now passing the occasional steel helmed and greaved guardsman on patrol. They could each see the Lord’s mansion looming a block or two beside them, 5 stories, the tallest building in the city, shimmering with its too bright white paint and garish gargoyles about the eaves. Canton flicked his eyebrows again, his slow growing smile lopsided and mischievous.
“I tracked you to another town too.” he said, struggling to school his face to stillness. Glancing at his partner, Canton merely said “Rempton.” and watched as his partners face slowly but surely took on a tomato red hue. “They certainly had some stories for me. They even mentioned-” he began, when Rend grabbed his shoulder, pulling his attention to the large shop front at their side.
Quickly clearing his throat, and with another scratch at his stubble, Rend said “We’re here!” before rushing to enter the bright violet planked door. A large open room, every wall of the shop was packed tight with goods of all sorts. The left wall was strewn with crafting materials, with pelts and bones, herbs and minerals, fae lights and lirin loot. The right wall was shelved heavy with tools of the adventurers trade, ropes and picks, portable stoves, bedding, packs and maps. at the end of the room behind a wide wooden counter sat a man almost as wide, face red and ruddy and shimmering with moisture, tight maroon doublet near bursting about his gut. With a honeyed bellow, the smiling, beady eyed merchant called out.
“Welcome, welcome!” he said, “Welcome to Geston’s Goods and Gear! What can I get for you fine fellows!?”
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“I was her about a month ago,” Rend said, striding to the counter and placing both hands down wide, “and you told me you loved to buy in bulk, the more the better.”
“Why of course of course!” He said, “I didn’t get this belly of mine with a mark here and a mark there. Let’s see what you’ve got.” his smile growing wider, his cheeks redder. Rend lifted a hand, accessing his un-spaced loot menu and placed a canvas sack before the counter, too large to fit atop it. The merchant clapped his palms together twice, his jowls heaving. “Lovely!” he said. “Type packed I assume? Yes, of course of course. Merely give me a moment, I’ll take this to the back, sort it all and return quickly, quickly. A smidge of patience, an eighth-bell and we’ll have you set and paid!” The merchant’s tone still smooth he heaved the sack with surprising strength and head for the door behind the counter.
Rend stared hard at the merchant’s back. “I know exactly what's in there, and what its worth.” he said softly, eyes not wavering. The merchant glanced over his shoulder, a hint more sweat dripping than before, smile not changing, laughing as he continued through the door. Canton, who’d been lounging against the far side of the counter jumped, planting himself on the counter’s edge, legs dangling. The two men shared a glance, matching a grin and a laugh. Canton scanned the room quickly, confirming their privacy again, before turning his eyes back to Rend’s, who was now leaning against the counter himself, both elbows behind him and ankles crossed.
“It really did take me a long time to find you.” Canton said.
“I know.” Rend replied. The two men stood in the silence for a moment.
“You better not even think that you’ll be leaving again without me.” Canton said, eyes intent. Rend met his stare unflinching for a heartbeat. For two. His eyes turned toward the ceiling and he spoke in a soft voice, jaw hard.
“I know you Canton. You were born a leader, by birth, but more, by fire. At your heart you desire to protect. To save those you love. You’re a champion for the broken and your ambition and your drive all point toward peace. In 10 years you could rule a kingdom, and rule it well. Your people would prosper and you would guard that. A people to protect, good food, hard liquor, a warm place to put your cock and maybe a family. You’d be happy Canton. And as well as I know you, you know me. You know my heart. the rage. I could give a damn who i save. My thoughts are all on who I’ll slaughter.” Rend’s fist clenched tighter and tighter. His face never changed, but the blood rushed from his knuckles, his fists clammy white and his veins pulsing. His voice grew even softer. “I will not rest till every pissant of a twisted monster on the face of this world is rotting and dead. I won’t have a single peaceful nights sleep till I can claw the throats of every Towerhead, and my eyes won’t rest till my teeth can tear into G.O.D.’s fucking throat and taste his unholy, bitter blood. I believe Canton. I believe that this is a game. A game that can be beaten and I’m so damn hungry to end it, to win.” Canton’s eyes never left his brother’s face and he replied with a voice just as soft, just as intense.
“‘Beating the game’ is impossible. It’s just a fact. I know it as well as I know this counter is solid, that my blood beats in my veins. 7 centuries of legends, of failures, myths and murders and nothing has changed. This is the real world, and it’s my world. I could give a shit if its real or fucking virtual, because my steel is sharp, my food is warm and those I love, you, are here. That’s enough for me. But you said I know you.” Canton leapt from the counter and put his fist to his brother’s chest, the same spot, the same spot as he always had. His voice grew in volume, his lips curled with almost a snarl. “I do know you Rend. And more than that, I trust you. I owe you my life a dozen times over. I’ve seen you cry over the shattered corpses we couldn’t save. I’ve seen you murder a good man without flinching. You know my scars and I know yours. And I trust you.” He slammed his hand to his head. “ I KNOW that beating this game is impossible.” He slammed his hand to his heart. “But I KNOW you can do it. I trust you Rend. More than I trust what I see, more than my hand trusts my beating heart beneath it. If you say this isn’t real, that my own beating heart is virtual and a lie, then I trust you. And I’ll follow you all the way.”
Rend stood to his full height, right hand clasping Canton’s. The two men spoke softly together “Beat the game” then raised their middle fingers toward the ceiling, toward the sky, and toward the heavens, “and shove a sword up G.O.D.s ass”