Arlene darted around the small group of goblins urging them to stick together. Droplets of sweat adorned her temples while a long resigned breath escaped her lips.

“Guess they are used to hit-and-run tactics,” An exclamation issued from her while she straightened herself.

“You are doing a wonderful job,” I delivered well-deserved praise and only earned a scoff from the half-elf in return.

“I am not a drill sergeant,” Her peachy bow-shaped lips pushed forward as she pouted.

“Let me fill in a secret, a very valuable lesson, one that you will not learn from your mentor,” I leaned and contorted my mirth, “if you are good in something and only you are proficient in it, train others. Or else you will never get promoted.“

A hint of interrogation marred her face.

“If there is no one else to fill your current role, you will not move ahead. Simple,” I grimaced.

“Being a Mercenary is not my calling. I find it a detestable practice. That is what we are,” sneered Arlene, “Even trained soldiers fight out of loyalty and patriotism. What are we? Slayers for coins.“

“Take a change of perspective. A loyal soldier might fight for patriotism, but they have no choice in who they fight. Bound by invisible chains of honour and allegiance. A mercenary is free to choose. You decide the cause. You are the judge of your own morality,” My arms dropped and my straightened posture relaxed while the half-elf considered my words.

The conversation would have continued, if not for the interruption in the form of heavy footsteps echoing the arrival of Rodo.

“Commander,” greeted Rodo in a friendly gesture, “When are we leaving?”

“About that, I won’t be leaving with you two. I have a new mission to complete,” I explained.

“Is it about that, strange mage and the hyperactive child ?” questioned Rodo. His hands thoughtlessly reached to scratch the back of his ears.

“Indeed. We owe them our lives during a previous encounter. So I have to repay,” I uttered. My relationship with Vangere is not of any concern to them both.

Arlene’s face dawned at the concept of repaying a debt.

“So are you going to help make that strange contraption fly?” curiosity and eagerness danced in tandem in her eyes.

Guess I was wrong. It was Colby’s gyrocopter that held her attention.

“Rodo will lead the escort mission,” My words drew a look of surprise from them both.

“Rodo, Taltil will assist you. As for you Arlene, you will assist Rodo with Maapu by your side. But you have another mission.”

Rodo’s hands scratched the back of his ears unconsciously. A trait that he is unaware of. Arlene crossed her arms in front of her and pulled her lips taut in an open sign of defiance.

“I would rather work with Theko than Maapu,” Her voice held the same defiance that her posture accentuated.

“There is a reason Arlene. I would like you to recruit a few more and train a few warg riders along the way,” My voice carried over the silence that loomed over us.

“But wargs are expensive to maintain, let alone the idea of training them. Lots of fresh meat, and additional exercises to keep their rage in control. Special enclosures to isolate them at night” listed Arlene.

“Hear me out. Remember the bogs. The tides would have turned a lot sooner in our favour had I a few warg riders by our side,” I elucidated, “Maapu might soon awaken to his hobgoblin nature. Take him with you. Train him. In the future, he can train the rest.”

Rodo’s thick eyebrows rose in surprise at my revelation. On the contrary, a mask of expressionlessness held Arlene’s face fixed. So she suspected it.

“They might be expensive but they are worth it. You will come to realise how valuable the ability to deploy at short notice and strike behind the enemy’s flank would be,” I added.

Arlene’s blank expression morphed into a pensive one as she finally gave a low nod.

*****

Late in the following day, Rodo roared like a mountain lion. His words pushed the goblins to hold their position as they advanced. His companions dejectedly swung their weapons in a half-hearted manner. Their claws and jaws, every bit superior to the sinister metal that they held in their hands.

A serene grace outlined Arlene as she calmly trained with her trusty bow, sending arrows into their mark with uncanny precision.

So it struck everyone as a surprise, except me, when a minor explosion rocked her arrow off its trajectory. Splinters flew and small wisps of dark smoke wilted away from the spot of the explosion.

Rodo’s countenance sharpened as he sniffed the air while Maapu bared his fangs in a feral snarl. A mild fury marred the otherwise imperturbable face of Arlene.

The smell of gunpowder wafted through the breeze. Clad in deep purple and rich velvet cloak, the gaudy figure stood with one arm supporting on the waist, the still-smoking bronze barrel of the pistol on the other hand. The bluish suede leather boots pristinely devoid of dust and mud, worn more as a statement of style than practicality, held the weight of the lanky frame. A flimsy deep violet doublet with golden embroidery tightly hugging the body frame accentuated the newcomer’s svelte form. Even though a dark wide-brimmed hat with a bright golden plume covered most of the face, I had no need to look. For I would have recognised the lovable devil anywhere.

“Aunt Rillie,” came the voice of Savvas the younger with a vigour.

“Young Savvas,” I rushed towards my nephew.

He willingly allowed himself to fall into my arms for a long missed embrace and an innocent peck on the cheek.

“I was worried but I am glad to see that you are doing fine with the company of adorable goblins, a hunk of a man and a fair maiden,” the swell words of Savvas filled the area, “though fair maiden. I owe an apology for shooting your arrows, they do no justice before your eyes. Your eyes, far more piercing than your arrows.”

At Savvas words, Arlene’s fury disappeared in celerity. Her cheeks radiated in blush as blood flew in response to a quickened heartbeat.

“Don’t hold him on to his words, Arlene,“ I cautioned, “he says that to every girl, though he is clearly not interested in any.”

“What travesty is this? Aunt Rillie,” faked Savvas, his anger.

“Are you in Sarenthill? How did I miss it?” My voice expressed my unsuppressed curiosity.

“I was around Valteburg when I heard tales of my audacious aunt Rillie, slaying ten thousand alone, summoning great forest spirits and even pounding a vicious pack of Werewolves into submission. Now I see that her exploits are not exaggerated,” grimaced Savvas with a wink.

“Exaggerated,” I scoffed at the words.

“Pounded Werewolves?” repeated Rodo in dismay.

“And what were you attempting in Valteburg? Honing your arts? let me guess what it is this time? Poetry or painting? or did you opt for sculpting now?” Time to trade-friendly jabs with my nephew.

“How could you? Aunt Rillie, I will have you know that I am committed to every cause,” Savvas feigned a face of disappointment.

“Right,” my voice did not conceal my caustic sardonicism, “I remember the stream of young men at our door. All result of your commitment.”

“Ouff, a bunch of bitchy drama queens,” elucidated Savvas.

Arlene abandoned all hope with that.

“You have gotten thinner, let me put some meat on your bones,” I tapped Savvas’s arms and gave his biceps a small squeeze.

“Oh let me remember, please, I am forgetting something,” Fingers prisoned in fine suede leather gloves rubbed Savvas’s temple, an attempt to jolt his memory, “Aunt Rillie, You cannot cook.”

His comment drew an explosion of laughter from the rest. My hands unconsciously punched his arms.

*****

A huge chorus of cheers erupted for Savvas in the common room of the inn as he ordered the meal for all. A steaming bowl of freshly cut vegetables stood in front of Savvas. His food preferences still haven’t changed.

Seated away from the rest of The Aberrant Irregulars, our relative privacy ensured, I finally asked, “How is she doing?”

Savvas swallowed his saliva. His head turned around uneasily. He finally leaned back putting enough distance between us and simply shook his head.

“You would not want to know. She is safe, for the moment. This I can promise,” he finally uttered wrestling away his reluctance.

I inhaled deeply. A heavy silence hung between us.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“I will be travelling north. I took a departure to give you this,” Savvas pushed a heavy pouch that clinked with the sound of coins, in my direction.

“Oh, my little nephew is all grown up and now wants to help his ailing aunt. How adorable,” I teased Savvas. He ignored my taunt and stared into my eyes.

“I am doing well Savvas. We won a few contracts,” I explained.

Savvas fretfully dig into his vegetable bowl with his fork.

“Besides you would need the coin on the road. Speaking of which, aren’t you not thrust into responsibilities? How are you moving freely?,“ I broached a forbidden subject.

Savvas bit into lettuce and deliberately chewed with tight lips.

“Responsibility,” he repeated the word with heavy restraint and a wry smile appeared on his face, “Sometimes, I wish, I could cast off these shackles and just be whoever I am, with whoever I want to be with.”

“Savvas, our society does not shun. You never had to hide your love for men. You can take whoever you want as your partner.”

Savvas shivered at my words and a pool of tears welled in his eyes. I reached out and cupped his trembling face in my hands.

“You know who was...no...who is the greatest love of my life? A tiefling woman. Not a day passes by that I did not regret not proposing to her sooner. Do not tread the same path as me. I know in our community the higher you rise, the more pawn you are perceived but do not let that hinder you. But if you found someone worthy of your affection, hold onto him. It is worth every hindrance.”

Savvas held back for a long enduring moment and finally when he wiped the tears from his eyes, a renewed clarity dwelt in those crimson eyes.

*****

At the rise of the sun over the horizon, five figures converged at the rendezvous location. Syrune and Colby presented themselves with a promised Carriage drawn by four draught horses. Giant beasts, colossal in appearance and yet breed docile and gentle in nature. A blessing since Theko was our coachman. In contrast, to the reticent Syrune, Therrin hopped around with his fingers stuck inside his pockets.

“Four horses?” I raised an eyebrow at the mage’s extravagance.

“Thought we could reach our destination faster, without tiring those poor beasts,” answered Syrune.

The academic duo, Syrune and Colby were safely cocooned inside the exquisite carriage while the rest of us took reins leading the horses.

“Ma’am, this carriage will attract the attention of everyone,” voiced Therrin as the journey passed halfway through.

I simply nodded in acknowledgement to his comment.

“So what are we exploring ma’am?” enquired the inquisitive halfling.

“We are trying to obtain some old treatise of Grand Alchemist Vangere, that is Syrune’s master.” I elucidated patiently. There is enough time to settle on a course of action before Camorien’s ride appears.

“Syrune, eh? I take it that’s the mage inside. So is it a man or a woman?” Therrin’s voice dripped with venom and mockery as he jeered.

The rogue caught whatever he was about to utter in his throat as my piercing gaze prodded his soul.

“I take it that the esteemed Mage is a respectable person, Ma’am,” apologised Therrin.

“Good, then we are clear on that,” I gave my approval, “In our effort, we are hunted by an invisible adversary. One who stalks our path.”

Therrin stiffened at my words. Caution roamed behind his eyes.

“You need not worry. Our adversary loathes to use physical means. They are more refined. This is more of a cloak and less of a dagger affair. Consider it a war of spreading misinformation,” I tossed the reins to Theko and turned towards the rogue.

“If our enemy is unknown, their agents unclear, who am I singing false whispers to?” The rogue stared back at me.

“Here is what we know. Vangere disappeared. Not dead or held against his will or simply just vanished doing whatever holds his interest. We know not. He just disappeared. I am going to entertain the possibility that he might be held captive by our adversary.”

Therrin absorbed without a complaint, the sudden rush of information.

“Now to our adversary, they are powerful and resourceful. So far, they dared not to reveal their presence directly. If knowledge of our possession was revealed, we would be forced to relinquish the notes and records that we obtained. They are in a position to force other powerful organisations to do the work for them.” I searched the rogue’s face for any sign of questions. His face remained stoic while his head worked in silence.

“This carriage is too fancy. We will not be inconspicuous, ma’am ” he declared finally, “tongues will run. We cannot remain hidden.”

“We will not hide our presence but our cause. The where they will know but not the why. This is where you come in. Make people believe that we are not there to search his property but rather to answer a summon from Vangere,” I outlined my plan.

“Ma’am, I do not follow your plan,” answered Therrin.

“They are clearly confiscating Treatise of Vangere. So if we spread the word that Vangere is back. That means more treatise for them to confiscate and chase a non-existent person. Throw them into confusion and overload their information network.”

“And if the Grand Alchemist, is held captive by your mysterious adversary, ma’am?” countered the rogue with a quick grasp of the scenario.

“In that case, make them reevaluate their captive. Force them to re-assess, if they have the real Vangere. I am betting on an err caused by their uncertainty,” I revealed the complete plan.

“When we reach Camorien’s Ride what will be my cover ma’am? have you given any thought?” asked the rogue.

“You will be our coachman and valet,” I exclaimed.

An expression that conveyed disappointment stood on Therrin’s face.

“Ever seen a halfling as a groom or coachman? With four huge draught horse?” he sneered and his nostril flared as he sniffed the air.

He had a valid point.

“What do you suggest?” I opened myself up to his suggestion.

“Colby’s older brother,” he declared with hubris.

“You two are not even of the same race. That would not even fool a simpleton,” I admonished.

In return, Therrin simply glared back with hard squinted eyes into my soul, igniting my ignominy which burned through the last vestige of my self-respect.

*****

The outline of dilapidated buildings of stone and wood appeared blocking the long snaking road. Camorien’s Ride, surrounded by large farmsteads on one side and lush green forest on the other end marking the beginning of high-elven dominion, was too large to be considered a village and too small to boast a city. A single large stream flowing with crystal clear water served as the town’s main supply of water. With a distinct lack of town centre, Camorien’s Ride was more of a settlement that grew out of travellers necessity to rest while recuperating. It was an appropriate location for people escaping the high taxes of the dominion at the same time could not afford the luxury of Sarenthill.

Syrune who know the location choose to walk in front of us. The three of us split from the carriage and made arrangements to meet at the chosen inn.

A few friendly smiles greeted us on our way, while a more curious gaze followed.

“The perks of a small town. We would be the talk of the town for, well, till the next caravan passes by,” added Syrune. The mage hated the attention but still held steadfastly.

Our short exploration ended, as Syrune crossed the gates of a large walled mansion. The white limestone mansion which had seen better days now lay in a derelict state, in desperate need of repair. Vines and weed outgrew the carefully planned pathways. A drab greyish colour replaced the once pristine white walls of the mansion. A layer of dust settled on the windows and verdigris greeted on the metal knobs and frame of the door.

Syrune’s palms pressed against the metal knobs and twisted the door open.

“Are you certain?” I cautioned the mage, “abandoned for more than a decade. Hooligans or hoodlums might have made it to their den.”

“Master Vangere holds great respect in the community here. No one would be foolish enough to attempt that,” assured the scholar.

An unholy shriek erupted from the black leathery winged bats as the door opened, clearly annoyed at the invasion of their habitat. After threatening us with their shriek and encircling the wide hall thrice, the bats flew away through the door. As the dust settled, a large hall adorned with chandeliers and cobwebs greeted us. Two huge red-scaled snakes with vicious ophidian eyes hissed a warning before crawling away.

“We could have hired a caretaker to clean this before venturing,” Colby did not loath to admit his disapproval.

“Colby would you like to wait at the inn?” asked Syrune.

Silence answered the mage’s question.

With deliberate determined steps, Syrune marched, ignoring the dust cloud arising from footsteps, toward a large cabinet. Wiping off the dust, the mage grabbed an alloy of a sphere mounted, held by a miniature gargoyle nearby. Arcane runes sprung to life and radiated from within. Vibrant colours danced on behind those runes until exuberance settled to an amaranthine glow. With a small click, the cabinet revealed its secret to us.

A long sigh escaped Colby when the cabinet, much to his adventurous spirit, did not lead to a hidden chamber but another primitively arched alcove. Sturdy stone-carved shelves held volumes of tomes and books, a record of Vangere’s personal research.

Syrune and Colby voraciously preyed upon the contents of the journals with their academic curiosity and hunger. One old tome caught and held the attention of my uninterested gaze. A tome with my daughter’s name. The primal feeling inside me stirred. Once stirred, could neither be resisted nor suppressed. I reached out and opened the tome.

A record of my daughter’s birth, her weight as a baby, time of her teething, the times she fell sick, the medication he administered and everything he tried to ensure her health was recorded meticulously. A sad smile crossed my face and the old fool’s face lingered at the edge of my mind. He cared more for my daughter as if she were his own granddaughter.

“Lady Rylonvirah, you found anything noteworthy?” Syrune interrupted.

Balancing my expression and masking my inner feeling, I mustered a smile.

“I did not know that Vangere was a great healer. I thought your master was a grand alchemist,” I attempted to obtain insight from Syrune.

Syrune grabbed the journal from my arms. His eyes skimmed the contents while his lips worked to my answer my question, “My Master was versatile in multiple fields. It should come as no surprise that this community respected him for his medical skill. He rarely practised healing directly with patients. Mostly distributed potions, salves and balms for the local healers, surgeons and midwives.“

“Well every alchemist benefits from having a few healing potions,” I added.

“Not just healing potions. He liked brewing potions for plagues and contagious illness. You could say epidemics was another interest of him,” though this one, he stabbed an accusatory finger at the tome, “this is different. His interest in this subject, curious/”

I winced at his use of the word subject. My anger yoked, I steeled myself and asked, “why?”

“He describes her symptoms and the medication he attempted to alleviate. That is surprising.”

Colby nearby ignored our topic, preoccupied with his own search. I raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Vangere might be considered as deranged by many, but what very few knew is that, when he was attempting to solve, he has a methodical and meticulous approach. He would usually highlight the symptoms, draw a conclusion to the underlying illness. Except in this case,” the scholar pondered for a fleeting moment, a pause to orient the oncoming words, “he simply attempted to treat the symptoms. Almost as if treating allergies. Might be something that the subject inherited from her parents. Strange since all his descriptions seem to indicate that the subject is a healthy female dark elf. Nothing otherwise.”

Much to the chagrin of Syrune, I snatched the journal from the mage.

“We have wasted enough time. Efficiency is the key requirement if we need to outwit our enemies,” My callous words whipped at the mage.

Colby simply shrugged while Syrune swallowed back. The mage held back whatever emotion that welled within.

Urgency squirmed inside, urging me to review the contents of the tome. My name stood out once.

“Vira is still distressed. Only passage of time will heal her. She needs to live with the knowledge that it is beyond her. Not all things can be tuned.”

Anguish knotted inside me, screaming for release.

Context.

I need the context.

I skimmed a few lines ahead and there it was.

“Lyria assures me that their daughter is healthy. She is convinced that she has a way to watch over.”

The date, a few decades after Lyria’s disappearance.

The anguish grew and started pounding on my chest. A deep throbbing thrust pounded in my chest and my vision narrowed.

I willed myself to read the journal more. The last entry,

“Lyria has entrusted me with the letter. I swore on my life, to reveal it to her, even if Vira were to stand against.”

Vangere, You bastard, you knew all about me and yet, you knifed me in the back. The pounding in my chest intensified and grew until it assaulted into an agonizing maelstrom. I called you my only friend and you stripped me naked, exposed and vulnerable. Then you fed me to the beasts.