Hawke

The rest of the voyage was uneventful. Avira spent a lot of time taking part in the odd fight, listening to stories, and reading. Godart busily treated everyone's wounds. Hawke and Kalani finally spent some quality time together, though Kalani's wing was still disabled so they had to stay in the cabins. Mareth mainly chatted up the crew, then read in his room after they got tired of him.

Hawke was standing on the bowsprit, arms crossed as he eyed the horizon. Kalani was at the very tip, balancing easily. Avira, meanwhile, sat on the railing. Nobody else was on this particular part of the boat as they'd requested privacy.

“So...” Avira was getting more and more nervous now that they were getting close to their destination. Being so focused on the journey, she hadn't had much time to consider the end result until their downtime on the ship. The wolf girl cleared her throat, speaking over the waves below, “you likely already know Argokath is planning an invasion of the Wilds.”

“Aye,” Hawke nodded, “timber aplenty, and they're likely looking for more slaves.”

“Please don't start talking like a sailor,” Kalani grumbled, giving an exaggerated huff.

“Right. And you understand why I'm on my way to Vakia,” Avira focused on the water as they spoke.

“Want our help, right?” He glanced back. “And you haven't talked to me about it yet because I don't quite strike you as the most 'regal' prince.”

“Right. No offense.” Avira looked at him.

“None taken. I agree with you even.” He slid down the bowsprit and sat on the railing next to her. “But in manners of the state, I know a few things. We have a cease-fire with Argokath. Vakia and its people are very tired of war. I'm afraid you may not get the help you expect.”

Avira gripped the rail, clearly frustrated. “I suspected as much. I don't know why my father even sent me to seek an audience with the king.”

“Hm, well you'll likely get your audience regardless. He sees everyone, and you being a companion of mine will let you cut ahead.” Hawke put a hand to his chin as he thought about something. Did they also send messengers to the URB and the various island and sea-faring tribes? Why would they specifically send Avira, who wasn't the most charismatic and seemed to be the daughter of someone important? “Who is your father, anyways?”

“Oh,” Avira looked up now, towards the prince. “That's kind of a tricky one. He did say he was an acquaintance of your father, though.”

“Hmm, the only wolf hybrid he told me of was a woman.”

“There's Conor, but I don't think it's him,” Kalani spoke up, listening in.

“Does beakless there have to listen in?” Avira shot her a glare.

Kalani returned it, gaze especially intense. “I'm a royal guard, so yes.”

“Alright, alright. Kalani's a dear friend and, as you heard, a royal guard. She's good at keeping secrets,” Hawke told Avira, “as am I.”

“Alright, fine. My father isn't exactly a hybrid, per se. His name's Fang. He's, well, a titan wolf.”

“A— a titan wolf!?” Hawke's eyes widened a moment as he took that in. Kalani was taken aback as well. He nervously cleared his throat and regained his composure as Avira waited for him to speak again. “Sorry. It's just, I've never heard of a hybrid being born like that. Is your mother— “

“I've never met my mother and I don't want to think of my conception, thank you very much.” She held up a hand to cut him off.

“Sorry. It's just a first. But... Now that you mention it, my father did tell me a story about a titan wolf he saved from a group of hunters. Fang... Gray-Wolf, I believe?”

“That's him. No wonder he didn't tell me this story, makes him sound lame.”

“Heh. He later helped my father enact the Night of the Ravens, but that's a can of worms we don't need to get into right now.” Hawke shrugged.

“Right. Politics.” She rolled her eyes a little, but focused on Hawke. “So do you think that would help?”

“It'll certainly get you in the door quicker, but I'm still not sure. You'll have to see what my father says. He can be very unpredictable at times.”

“Not really a trait you'd think a king would have.” Avira cocked her head.

“That's what everyone says.” Hawke smiled. “Still, despite what you'll no doubt hear in Argokath, he's a great king.”

“We'll see.” Avira's ears twitched as she heard Godart approaching her.

“Hey!” The Plague Doctor had a rucksack strapped to her back, what remained of her diminished medical supplies hastily packed away.

“Hey, Godart,” Avira addressed her, leaning against the rail. She hadn't gotten much chance to talk to the girl since the shipwreck, though they found time to chat before going to sleep each night. Avira eyed the backpack, raising an eyebrow. “You packing?”

“Yeah.” The doctor nodded enthusiastically, mask shifting. “I was talking to Mareth, and he offered to let me join the group. On the condition that you two are okay with it, of course.”

“Hm.” Hawke looked at her. “You're a member of the Plague Doctors, right?”

“Yeah! Or at least I work as one. They're not really an organization anymore unfortunately.”

“True enough.” Hawke rubbed his neck. “I have no problem with it. Practical medical knowledge could come in handy.”

“Sure, welcome aboard,” Avira said.

“Great!” Godart was no doubt smiling under the mask. “Since we're traveling together though, I was curious about something.” Godart fiddled with her hands as she looked at Hawke.

“Go on then.” The prince nodded.

“Uh, well...” She glanced at Avira then back to Hawke. “Shen told me you're a noble? You look Vakian.”

“Ah... well, let's not let there be any secrets if we're to be traveling companions.” He gestured to himself. “I'm the crown prince of Vakia. Hawke Eteri.”

Godart froze for a moment. She stared in silence for a full minute, then without saying took a step backward, turned, and walked away. The three that were left shared a look.

“Well.” Hawke stood back up. “Wonder what that was about.”

“Probably just nervous.” Avira shrugged it off, not putting much thought into the interaction. “She's an anxious one.”

“Best not be planning anything.” Kalani glanced at where Godart had left.

“And you'd best not hurt her. She's fine.” Avira and Kalani shared yet another glare.

“By Vaki himself, what is with you two! You've been picking fights with each other for weeks now!” Hawke exclaimed.

“Hmph.” Kalani focused back to the horizon, pausing to look at something in the distance. “Layport's ahead.”

“You see it?” Hawke squinted at the horizon, unable to see anything but an empty sea.

“Yeah. Which means the lookout on the crow's nest is going to see it with his spyglass in a moment.” She looked at Hawke expectantly.

“Shoot, I can't let them beat me.” The prince hopped off the bowsprit and onto the ship proper, hurrying to lean over the rail that faced the rest of the ship. “LAND HO!” A cheer rose from the sailors milling about the deck.

“He's been talking about wanting to yell that for the past few days now,” Kalani explained to a baffled Avira, “he's like a child sometimes, I swear.”

“Perhaps he wanted to be born a ship captain instead of a prince.” Avira hoisted herself off the rail, rolling her shoulders. “In any case, we depart soon.”

#

Godart

The crew worked to hoist all the cargo they'd managed to recover onto the dock. Anyone who wasn't moving goods or ensuring the ship was properly anchored were watching Shen speak with the harbormaster. Shen was showing him the records that he'd kept.

The now five-strong group of adventurers gathered atop the forecastle again, taking stock of their things and discussing plans. They needed to get supplies from Layport and be on their way with as few stops as possible.

Godart was quietly mapping out their approach in her head. They'd probably have to split up for everything they needed, which worried her. “Alright, so. Just to reiterate,” Godart spoke up during a lull in the conversation, “I need to restock my herbs and medical supplies. We need a way to transport us all. Avira and Hawke need their gear maintained. Finally, we need food and water for the rest of the way. Is, uh, that all?”

“Yes, that sounds right,” Hawke nodded, “The most efficient way would be to split up, yes?”

“Ugh, I'd rather not have to wander the streets by myself...” Avira muttered.

“We don't need to each go a different way. One group of two, one of three. Or we could do two groups of two and someone by themselves,” Mareth this time. Ever the logical one, him.

“You need someone to walk the city with you?” They turned to see Anne approaching, carrying a bundle of thick fabrics under her arm with ease. “I'd be willing to go for a walk.”

“Oh, hey Anne,” Avira greeted her. Godart had noticed the two caught in arm wrestling contests and the like a lot these last few weeks.

“Hey.” Anne smiled at them, the daemon easily towering over the group. “I brought you some extra clothes for the cold.”

Mareth and her eyes an empty spot in the air a moment, then Mareth talked, “indeed, the Kathan nations are quite cold.”

The daemon passed out the thick fur cloaks to everyone, “I'd put the hood up if I were you all. A mage, a vakian, and two hybrids won't get a friendly greeting here to say the least. Should also help to hide the figures of some of the women too, which also aren't popular around here.” She draped a massive cloak over herself, though it was hard to disguise such a pillar of a woman.

“A daemon either?” Godart asked, doubling the fur cloak over her leather. She felt the chill leaving her bones, thankfully, and sighed contentedly.

“Aye,” Anne nodded, “they don't like us either, but considering they don't have many mages they can't do much about us unless we start trouble.”

“Fun.” Avira examined the fur, noting the light red color and the texture. “Fox?”

“Good eye.” Anne grinned. “Though it probably wasn't a hard guess.”

“No, it wasn't.” Avira shook her head and smoothed her cloak. “Good quality though. You're giving these to us?”

“It's the least we could do.” Anne put a heavy hand on Godart’s shoulder. “Her services have been invaluable, so we're just paying her dues.”

Godart flinched when the hand fell on her shoulder, then looked down when the praise started to come out. “I was just doing the right thing,” she spoke, face warming.

“Ha, you spared the crew Bram's saws is what you did!” Anne pat her on the head now, glancing across the deck to the dryad tending to the ship. “Trust me, he's very eager to use it on wood and bone alike.”

“They're rusty and dull too, it's absolutely dreadful...” Godart muttered.

The group chuckled at the exchange, then Hawke spoke up, “so, money? What's the financial situation with you all?” The prince pulled his coin purse from his side, the bag noticeably lighter. “I've about fifty gold and two hundred silver.”

Mareth pulled his coin purse out and gazed into the bag, counting it out in a moment. “Twenty gold, a hundred and five silver, two copper.”

Godart took hers out as well. “One gold and fifty silver. Oh, and three copper too.”

“I think I have a few copper pocketed somewhere.” Avira shrugged.

“Sounds like enough to purchase a carriage if you pool your money, but the rest of the supplies might be a stretch,” Anne advised them.

“I'll reimburse you when we get to our destination, of course,” spoke Hawke, looking at the two who had money.

Godart hesitantly shook her head. “I need to visit an herbalist. I can't afford to give anything.”

“I'll spare my gold, sure.” Mareth took the twenty small coins out and gave them to the prince, metal clinking as it spilled into the Vakian's hand and then his bag.

“I'll not be pooling, but I'll buy you all a meal after our business is over,” Anne said.

“Hmm, well we won't need to spend too much on food for the journey,” Avira spoke with confidence in her voice, “We can scrounge up meat from what critters we find. Rope and salt for trapping and preservation and we're good.”

“Very well,” Hawke said, “Godart, you're going to a herbalist so could you pick up some seasonings as well?”

“Mhm.” She glanced away. “I suppose I could afford that.”

“For groups, then.” Mareth cleared his throat. “Considering everyone's needs, I should go with Anne. I don't need anything specific and she's good conversation. I think Avira should go with Hawke as they both need their weapons examined. Kalani should go with Godart, just to make sure she doesn't get into trouble.”

“I'm not leaving your side.” Kalani asserted with a glare.

“It's fine, Kalani. I'll put Godart under your care.” Hawke waved her off casually.

“I suppose that's fine, though I'd rather stay out of the city entirely...” Avira muttered.

Godart was disappointed that she couldn't walk with Avira or Mareth, but she held her tongue. With just a bit more deliberation and the all clear signal from Shen they disembarked.

Godart and Kalani split from the rest after asking around for directions. The herbalist was on the outskirts of the city as she suspected. He wasn't popular enough to have a market stall, so he sold his wares out of his house. She was surprised they even had one here, but the lack of potions no doubt led to an investment into practical medicine.

Sticking to the main street, Godart stayed close to the harpy at her side. Opposed to the doctor, Kalani walked with confidence despite the nasty looks she was getting. Her glare was enough to keep people walking. Kalani shared a look with Godart, who despite her height advantage was making herself small.

“You're like a stray kitten. Straighten up, the Kathan people pounce on weakness,” she spoke in an authoritative tone.

“Sorry.” Godart straightened her back just slightly, her constant fidgeting still showing her anxiety.

Kalani rolled her eyes and focused forward. “So. You had a strange reaction to my lord's identity.”

Godart bit her bottom lip, looking away. She was always so glad her mask hid the pathetic expressions she made. “I just don't care for the royal family.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“You live in Vakia, don't you?” Kalani squinted at her.

“My dad comes from Hollyport, but yes we lived in Vakia. I don't respect what you did to our organization is all.”

“Disbanding it?”

“Casting it aside, more like,” Godart grumbled.

“They're a waste of resources when you effectively control the supply of potion,” she shrugged.

Godart pursed her lips, now glad her disdainful look was being hidden, “tell that to Eudemon.” The magical nation wasn't even spoken of anymore, being little more than a Vakian city.

“Your order couldn't save the council, could it?”

“They were too reliant on their magical healing for that. Lucky that plague didn't spread through all of Vakia,” Godart crossed her arms as she spoke, knowledge of this field bolstering her confidence.

“Both of us were children then, so who can say,” Kalani stated matter-of-factly.

Godart could practically hear her father's stories running through her head, but she stopped herself before there was an argument. She was surprised at how far they'd gotten by arguing while walking. Glancing back, the harbor and smell of fish that came with it were vanishing into the distance. The smell of the actual town replaced it before she'd noticed. They definitely didn't have sewers here. She was glad, now more than ever, that the beak of her mask was packed with herbs and a small amount of charcoal.

Kalani was practiced at fording her way through the river of people on this busy street, occasionally tucking her wing under Godart's arm to prevent her from getting swept away.

“It's a good thing you're androgynous in that cloak,” Kalani muttered, “they don't like women unaccompanied here.” She gestured to the many women being led around by men, whether he be a human or hybrid slave.

“Oh. I guess I should keep my voice down?”

“Probably. I can still hear you if you whisper though.”

“Alright,” she spoke with a low volume, “don't they let women join the military?”

“If you're no use for 'breeding', sure.” Kalani shrugged. “They place a lot of value on having children.”

“Ugh...” Godart was sick just thinking about it.

“Just be glad you don't live here.”

They passed a coughing child holding a pregnant woman's hand with a collared hybrid following behind. Godart paused and looked back. ”Sounds like a cold.”

“Mm.”

“He should be resting in bed,” Godart turned back to follow Kalani, worry in her voice.

“It's a cold, nothing to worry about.”

“Let's hope that's the case.”

They walked in silence for an hour, sun still high in the air. The walls to the city came into view, partly crumbled and under construction in many areas. It was made mostly of stone, with some wood embattlements spaced out. Godart noticed that they had what she identified as cannons, and she could feel the pull of a flux stockade at her essence. “Ugh...” she muttered, nausea setting in.

“Yeah, I feel it too. Try not to give it away, they don't like mages either,” Kalani looked at her.

The herbalist was outside of the walls. They had to approach the guards standing at the gates, purple and red crest on their armor. They were only lightly armored, a breastplate and gambeson with some chainmail poking underneath. Their steel helmets had fur covering their ears as well, and they had spears. It occurred to Godart that she had barely seen any guards until now, unusual for a large city.

The two tried not to stand out as they passed through. They clearly weren't inconspicuous enough, as a voice called out to them.

“You and the harpy, halt!”

Godart stopped with Kalani. She turned back and saw two guardsmen, one older man and one young. The young one stood father back and tried to look intimidating.

The guard that spoke looked tired and had a nasty scar across his face. He scanned Kalani and squinted at Godart before relaxing. “You must be here to see Oswald.”

Godart looked around nervously, wondering what he was talking about. What would make him think she was here to see someone? Her mask?

“The good doctor is only twenty minutes from here, follow the east road until you see the house with all the flowers.”

He must be a Plague Doctor like her, then. She was too nervous to speak, so she nodded and raised a hand before turning and quickly striding away.

“You handled that well.” Kalani peeked over her shoulder at the guardsmen, who were still watching them. “Is Oswald the herbalist, then?”

“Directions sound similar.” While outside of the walls, the city hadn't ended. The stone brick roads under them were maintained as well as inside of the city, but the buildings they passed were much more shabby. They were either wholly thatch, wooden logs with thatch roofs, or hardened mud again with thatch.

Godart saw primarily children and women about, hybrid and human alike. All the men were either at work in the cities, the fields, or the military. Living in the slums must be a depressing life.

She watched a group of human children carrying sticks chase a little goat hybrid past them. Godart looked to the harpy next to her, who just shrugged. “It happens. Not much we can do about it.”

“Couldn't we yell at them?” she glanced back at the group running between two houses.

“The kid'll just get beat harder the moment we leave. And we'd get yelled at by the humans, and the guard would wander over and find an excuse to lock us up...”

“Frick, that's annoying,” Godart sighed, “I can't imagine why hybrids would choose to live here.”

Shacks became sparse the farther you went out, and fields overtook the land. Kathan farming took a lot of manpower compared to other nations that utilized earth, water, and plant elementals to grow crops. All kinds of hybrids were out on the fields, getting ready for the last harvest before winter.

What you could grow this far south was limited. Cabbage, carrots, lettuce, collards, turnips, and all sorts of vegetables made to grow in cold temperatures were Kathan staples, though they likely shipped crops down from the warmer north.

They found their destination immediately before the vast farmlands started. It was a small field with basil, chamomile, garlic, and many other medicinal plants. A well-kept shack made of stone brick sat in front, smoke billowing out of the chimney.

Godart observed the two hybrids out cultivating the plants, a satyr and a deer man. They didn't pay her any mind as she approached the door, grabbing the metal ring hanging from the doorknob and tapping it to the wood lightly. They waited a moment before Kalani sighed heavily, stepped up and knocked loudly, sound reverberating through the little house.

The familiar sound of glass clinking together sounded out and the two could hear footsteps shuffling around. “Just a moment!” The voice belonged to a man, an older one at that. The door swung open, a tall aged man with a white wispy beard at the entrance. “You don't have to come running every time something goes wrong...” he trailed off and stared at the two, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses, “sorry, I thought you were the hybrids.” He eyed Godart. “Magnus, is that you?”

“Huh?” Godart looked around. That was her father's name.

The alchemist stroked his beard when he heard the obviously female voice, “An old friend. You have his uniform...”

“Oh, me? Well, I'm wearing my dad's old outfit, yeah. Did you know him?”

“Ah, little Godart! Come in, come in!” He smiled, stepping aside. “Matter of fact, I worked alongside your father for many years while the Doctors were still in place.”

“You did!?” That excited her. Although she'd met some of her father's coworkers as a child, she didn't have a memory for faces then. “What was he like on the job?”

“Very focused.” He led them through a cramped house, carefully maneuvering through a maze of vials and flasks and to a table with a mountain of books on and around it. They sat as he moved the stacks to the floor.

“Tea?” He asked, already wandering to the small stove in the corner.

“Just don't set any fires...” Kalani gestured to the plants hanging from the walls.

“Uh, so my dad then... you were friends?” Godart asked, watching the old man start the water and prepare the tea leaves.

“Indeed, indeed. We worked together many times. Quite a mind for medicine, him.”

“Yes he was. I'm trying hard to fill his shoes...” Godart sighed.

“I suppose he left the country like I did, then?”

“I'm not sure. He just didn't come back home one day.”

Kalani cleared her throat. “I'd hate to interrupt this, but we did come here for a reason,”

“Supplies for a trip?” Oswald asked the harpy.

“Yeah. We're going up to Vakia,” Godart spoke up.

“Well usually I just do business with a few practitioners in the city. I should be able to spare you the essentials, though,” he glanced towards the window which was covered in hanging garlic, “I'll have the hybrids get you a basket.”

“Are they slaves?” Godart frowned.

“In Argokath? Of course. Not often you see a free hybrid here.”

“You're comfortable being a slave owner?” Kalani asked.

“It's not like I'm out there beating them.” He waved the notion off dismissively. “I even feed them.”

“What a saint.” Kalani rolled her eyes.

“Vakia had slavery in place once, too.”

“Once,” Kalani replied.

Oswald shook his head. “Really, now. No need to be irrational about it.”

Godart hadn't made a peep during their exchange, but after that she stood up, “I, uh, don't think we can stay for tea.”

Oswald was quiet for a moment, looking at the kettle that was just starting to steam. “Are you sure? I've got plenty of stories about your father.”

She nodded. “Yes, I'm sure.”

“Hm, very well. I'll go ask the hybrids for your supplies. Thirty-three silver should cover it.” Oswald took the kettle off the stove and quickly walked out.

Godart and Kalani shared a look as he left, then Godart wordlessly counted out the required coins and walked out the front door. She didn't realize how stuffy that cottage had been until she stepped into the cold air, her breath misting and floating off before her.

Oswald was speaking to the slaves, who had gotten a basket and were tossing an assortment of plants inside. Godart watched while fidgeting with the silver in her hand.

The group walked over with a full basket, the satyr handing it over. Godart handed the thirty-three silver to Oswald then turned to the two slaves. She handed five silver to both of them, the hybrids nervously pocketing them.

“Uh, thank you,” Godart told them.

“Thank you milady,” spoke the deer, satyr muttering a quiet thanks as well.

“No thanks needed,” Godart took the basket, looking at the plants, “It was nice meeting you, Oswald.”

“Ah, you too Godart,” Oswald nodded, the slaves going back to the fields, “I hope you can find your father one day. I'd look in the URB personally.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Godart muttered, and with a glance to Kalani they were headed back to town.

“That's nice that you paid those slaves. Even a little bit of silver is precious to them. Though I hope they don't just get it robbed or buy booze with it,” Kalani said.

“I'd like to do more...” Godart gave a heavy breath.

“Can't change a nation unfortunately.” Kalani shrugged. “Not without taking some heads.”

“In this era, perhaps... anyways, now that we have some medicinal supplies we can pick up some food.”

“Sounds good. Going to feel good to be able to eat a decent meal for once.”

#

Mareth

Mareth's amulet was getting a lot of work in this city. With the very minimal mage presence, the only ones around the cull the local population of spirits were daemons. And with the atmosphere in this city, daemons forming here would be much more interested in torturing a human than snacking on a ghost.

Both Witness and Valisa were helping round up any loose spirits and taking them close enough to be lured into the amulet at Mareth's neck. Anne watched, interested in the process while also keeping an eye on the people around them.

“Layport was always a dreary place, honestly,” Valisa spoke after flushing some spirits out of a building, “I'm not old enough to know firsthand, but I hear that when the surrounding areas were still Vakian lands, Layport tried to be an independent city. Then all the typhoons came, and their hopes were shattered.”

“Vakia had unconventional methods for sure.” Mareth glanced back in the direction of the ocean. “The current King has sworn off those sorts of things though.”

“Current, yes. But what of future rulers?”

“The prince seems nice enough,” Anne commented.

“They do say authority changes a man, though,” Mareth said.

“True.” Anne scratched her chin, watching Witness emerge from an alley.

Striding through a small group of living with a trail of spirits, he came to a stop in front of Mareth and Anne.

“Good job,” Mareth nodded, holding his amulet out to absorb the lost souls.

“Quite the amount,” Anne watched them be sucked in without much resistance, looking back to the crowd they'd passed through to watch them shiver.

“There's a hunger daemon prowling the back streets,” Witness spoke, characteristically unenthused.

“You know, I think I forgot to ask. What are you, Witness? You're no awakened soul, that's for sure,” Anne asked.

Witness simply looked at Mareth.

“Let her know.” Mareth nodded.

“I'm essentially a construct formed of soul fragments. Taken from golems, hostile spirits, awakened spirits, bogarts, poltergeists... you get the picture.”

“Interesting. And your goal in making him was...?” Anne turned her head to Mareth.

Mareth thought about it a moment, “Well, it's multifaceted, really. I wanted to see if I could, for one. Second, doing it helped elucidate the nature of the soul. Third, it's a useful assistant to have when you need to gather ghosts.”

“How many do you have, anyways?” Valisa asked this time.

“Even with my memory I doubt I could tell you.” Mareth looked up at her as she floated above them. “And my reason for collecting them must stay equally as vague for the moment.”

“How mysterious you are, my dear mage.” Anne smirked.

“Mm. Anyways, we might as well be productive while we're here. Avira mentioned she was planning to hunt on the way, so we should probably get a hunting permit, right?”

“Eh, we don't need to help that savage,” Valisa grumbled.

“Prejudice isn't a good look for a young dead woman,” Anne spoke.

“Nevertheless, we'll still need one.” Mareth looked to the passerby, who were eyeing the two like they were deranged.

“Considering he's penniless, I imagine the invisible beings will be the ones acquiring it,” Witness remarked glibly.

Valisa gave an exasperated sigh, “fine.”

“Ah, fun. Let's try not to get ourselves thrown in jail and subsequently enslaved.” Anne pat Mareth on the head.

“What better to spice up a walk than a heist, eh?” Mareth grinned, the two living and two spirits continuing on.

#

Avira

Rats scurried along the grime encrusted streets, the squeaking just a small part of the city ambiance. Layport was a much different beast than the other cities Avira had been to. The colorful attire did nothing to hide the oppressive atmosphere, both literally and figuratively. Black smoke hung in the sky, a smog resting on the town that forced her to cough. Thankfully Hawke could clear the air around them. Avira stuck close to the prince, the sheer volume of people walking around triggering her anxiety. Still, she had enough disdain for the Kathans by now to work through it.

“I would have hoped you humans would figure out not to shit where you eat by now.” Avira held her nose as they passed a pile of refuse a hybrid slave was busy shoveling into a cart.

“Don't hybrids just go in the woods?” Hawke side-eyed her.

“If we have a village set up we'll dig a hole away from the buildings. We're the ones who taught you lot to do it in the first place.”

A rock sailed past them, though it was impossible to know who threw it. Hawke pursed his lips as he saw the scowls they were getting, “Kathans are quite the exclusionary lot, despite considering their immediate neighbors' brethren.”

“Hm?” Avira didn't quite get what he meant.

“Oh, well before Vakia came conquering, this region was formed of hundreds of little city states. They had a lot of petty wars, but a common identity and similar cultures under that.”

“That sounds similar to the Wilds and its tribes.” Avira mulled that one over.

Hawke nodded. “Anyways, told you it'd be a quick walk.” He gestured to the building in front of them.

The smithy was open to the air, a wooden roof covering the workstation. Four people were each working on different projects, two hybrids and two humans. A pig hybrid sat closest to the street, spotted pink skin and bulky muscles. He had a pig nose and two long tusks poking up from his bottom jaw. There were no brands or collars on him, so he didn't seem to be a slave.

“Pardon me, my good man.” Hawke stepped forward, waving.

Avira looked away from the two as she let Hawke take care of the niceties. They were still close to the harbor so lots of sailors, fishermen, and knights were wandering. Plenty of people from the URB as well, their tawny skin standing out from the pale masses. There were a few URB and Kathan soldiers milling outside a large warehouse, holding firearms and fully armored. She could hear a lot of clattering and banging in there, and a smokestack was billowing from the warehouse. What was in there?

“Avira.” Hawke tapped her on the shoulder, breaking her focus.

“Hm?” She turned back to him, eyeing the orc as he examined Hawke's rapier.

“Hand over your gear,” Hawke said, “he'll deliver to the ship.”

“Ah.” Avira unstrapped her claws from her side as well as her dagger, handing them both over.

“Interesting gauntlets,” the pig man muttered, inspecting them, “twenty silvers for the bunch.”

While Hawke counted out the amount, Avira spoke up, “so you're a free man? I thought hybrids were slaves here generally.”

“Hm, well boar and hog folk are just thought of as orcs,” he said, “and we're Kathan like the rest, so we're treated like the humans mostly.”

“Mostly?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I can own a business or a house, but they watch you close. It's why I run a fair, clean shop.”

“Glad to hear it.” Hawke handed the coins over. “You take care of that sword especially.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of hurting such a beauty. You two have a good day now.” He pocketed the coin and set the weapons down on a table, then began to direct the other smiths.

“Oh, one last thing, do you know where we could buy a carriage?” Hawke called to the orc.

He glanced back, scratching his cheek, “the stables should have some, if you're also looking for horses. It's near the city gates, of course.”

“Very well, my thanks,” Hawke waved.

As they continued towards the stables, Avira couldn't help but be aware of exactly how many people were around. She couldn't wait until they were out of the city entirely.