Amari

I do not find Astraea in the room I have purchased a temporary claim to.

In her place is a bag, freshly and haphazardly packed.

Everything one might need for travel, personal tokens reduced to only the most important. The things I could learn if I so much as loosened the bag enough for a peak within.

Instead I tighten the straps and give it a look over for holes to ensure it holds up.

I am left with a feeling of nostalgia.

Simpler times.

My sisters and I could carry everything we cared for on our backs.

The only pack that mattered was each other.

Together we were safe.

Alone? My safety hinges upon what coin, promises, and words I exchange with others.

My sisters remain under the protection of a patron we did not ask for.

As the most capable of my pack, Prince Threnodias affords me a long leash. He may call it what he wants, setting expectations as favors to be paid with enough slack to see that his ends are achieved properly and safely. Until the debt he claims I owe is paid.

I remain ever at risk of angering those with enough power to kill me and mine with scarcely more than a thought. He can call our relationship whatever he likes.

My debt to him remains leash I fear cannot be escaped without help.

And I have been getting so tired of the idea of a collar around my throat. If nothing else, entrusting Ayre with a token of my burdens will convince my sisters that they have the pact’s interests in mind.

That they are freed is all that matters. Ideally, I am there to smooth things over and maybe get Astraea’s help in preventing my sisters from lashing out at their savior.

But there are no guarantees where confronting so many of Ayre’s siblings is concerned.

It is almost enough to just turn a blind eye to wherever Lady Wyrmsbane has gone or plans to go. There is value in cutting my losses and making do with those I know I can count on or bend to my ends.

But what of Astraea? She communes with Lady Midnight on a daily basis, whose hands and voice can manifest to express her displeasure at a moment’s notice. While I am sure Astraea is quite capable without whatever divine gifts she wields, a Goddess can do so much more than simply deny her access to her gifts.

What does it look like when a patron goddess of redemption revokes her favor?

If Astraea is committed to lifting me of my burden, the least I can do is look into any potential abuses by her goddess.

So many questions demand consideration as I puzzle together where Astraea might be found.

Thankfully asking after a tall horned girl with skin that takes after flowers in scent and coloration gets me the answer I want with the first Lunarian I ask.

Although purchasing a bite to eat and a quick drink certainly helps to ease the temperament of most. The owner of this particular den for travelers is no different in that regard.

“Wyrmsbane paid for a basin of water to clean up before rushing off to have her gear maintained. She even overpaid like you do, as if I didn’t have a vested interest in addressing her being covered in blood in front of my morning patrons.”

I offer up a toothless smile. “She is one of those pirate types to whom money comes and goes.” I magnanimously neglect to mention that Astraea is allegedly royalty in her own right. And to an old Storm King of pirates no less!

If Astraea is going to be in a mood, the least I can do is explain it away on something harmless enough for a hired sword.

“Just remind her of her place, yeah? Or she can find somewhere else to sleep.” Comes a nakedly hostile reply.

It is almost a shame that Ayre was arranged to be bound to a bunch of close minded elves with a flair for burning books from the old world. But for now I suppose I can hold my tongue until someone inevitably realizes how useful my illusory carriage is. Better that conversation is saved for when Ayre is dispatched to resolve some far away threat. We don’t want to bet within hearing range of anyone so readily willing to engage in sudden acts of violence at the slightest provocation.

My nose suggests I am on the right track long before the forges come into view.

The crafting quarters surprises me in that it is not located along any of the main roads. I feel obliged to question their placement as someone who spends her time peddling wares and information. Or maybe their proximity to the barracks explains what keeps these Lunarians needlessly busy.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Step aside, foul beast!” An imperious voice gets my attention.

To even think poorly of the pointy eared devils and behold they arrive to call me a monster!

The looks I get as I am slow to clear the way are more than hostile, but they subside the moment I am no longer an obstacle.

I look on in amusement as Lunarians young and old carry all manner of accommodations for a prolonged elven ceremony. Material for impromptu outdoor shelters, all manner of seating, bedding, and food.

To my surprise, not one of them spares me a second look.

How many societies that think themselves civilized would put me to the sword or put a bounty on my head for the crime of being more beast than woman? I might not exactly feel welcome here, but I am very distinctly tolerated so long as I stay out of the way.

It is more than I or my war form would earn me elsewhere. I’ve heard a number of harsher things leveled at Ayre, but not once has anyone here described or treated us like either of us is feral and needs to be put down.

I try not to think of how few places outside either of these imperial lands would tolerate Ayre or their blood hunger.

More than once does losing myself in thought lead to impatient demands that I step aside as preparations are funneled into the grove’s center. I noticed precious little in the way of decoration, musical instruments, or artistic crafts. After the last cart before turning off the main road, I feel compelled to revise my estimation of the Lunarians.

Whatever they have in mind, it is hardly going to be an elven ceremony at all, is it?

It does not take long before I reach what looks like an armory nestled within a cluster of buildings intended to stock it.

The forge, sweat, and a familiar floral scents quickly narrow down the objective of my search to a corner smithy.

As I approach the door, another scent entirely causes me to stop in my tracks. The door opens before I can decide to double back.

A woman with the pale complexion of someone who has spent far too long living in Vylia’s shadow and arms thick with enough muscle to fold me into a bundle of fur barks at me with impatience. “Outsiders can purchase arms and tools over by the armory. I’m busy, yeah?”

That she would otherwise be naked were it not for an apron showing off every curve of fat and muscle of her frame has nothing to do with her irritation. Or at least I’m mostly sure. Before I can make a calculated reply, a familiar voice saves me the trouble.

Astraea, sounding weary and disheartened, calls out from deep within the building’s interior. “She’s a friend, Idra. Don’t send her away on my account.”

Idra crosses her arms, still having a mind to turn me away. In doing so, however, she reveals the tattoo of a Sea bound Siren artfully applied by a careful hand.

I allow my eyes to linger on it before showing my teeth in a mischievous smile.

Idra sighs before the words leave my mouth.

No sense letting the opportunity pass me by. “You two are a long way from the sea.”

“I go where my craft is respected.” Idra replies, her voice hard and unflinching.

“Sure, sure. Did you enjoy catching up with your captain?” I try so hard not to widen my smile.

The way she stops to reassess me as not an intruder she needs to be wary of, but someone with a mutual friend?

Priceless.

Her eyes spare a downwards look as she reassesses me.

I allow myself to indulge in an expression more befitting a wolf than a fox.

“In.” She barks in a gruff voice, before closing the door behind me.

Almost immediately I spot so many amusing contradictions. Coins and crates with markings from any number of nations fill the room. I imagine it must be an annoying inconvenience for any imperial nation to rely on this many foreign imports.

Maybe the crafting quarters are best placed off the main roads afterall.

My gaze quickly finds a symbol that matches the contract Astraea handed to me, a set of scales balanced upon a Siren’s hand denoting an affiliation with the Fevir Sea Trading Company.

I’m sure there is no relation to the Fevir Sea Sirens, pirate band of old, from before the shattering of the old world.

Following my gaze, Idra addresses me directly and professionally. “As you’ve doubtless realized, I am willing to satisfy any agreed contract you’ve fulfilled with Lady Wyrmsbane. Provided your terms were in coin or smithed goods. Otherwise, we can talk of arrangements.”

“Just coin will suffice.” I assure her. “Although I’m afraid I don’t have the contract on me.”

My smile turns innocent as Astraea steps into the room, wearing only a towel and a spaded tail both wrapped around her waist, one securing another.

“No matter.” Astraea mumbles in a fragile voice. “Both parties are here. We can just hash it out and record it in writing.”

Idra cocks an eyebrow. “And just let the fox get away with a second contract to cash in elsewhere?”

Astreaea doesn’t miss a beat.

“If she needs it. If it will help.” Astraea’s eyes meet mine as she reaches up to massage the back of her neck. No attempt is made to hide the wince of pain or the ugly bruising. “If you can do enough good here that I no longer can, yeah. I’m okay with you double dipping.”

I knew there was a dedication to her that I liked.

Idra growls in protest. “Sosima isn’t going to like this.”

Astraea sighs. “It’s fine. I’m… Not wanted here anymore. I’ll tell her myself.”

And just like that, Idra’s everything softens in response. “Okay then.”

I get the distinct impression from the look of unexpected relief on Idra’s face that Astraea just caved into an argument. This Sosima on the other hand is definitely a soft spot to keep in mind.

“It’ll be good to see her again.” Astraea admits softly as her gaze falls to a pair of empty glasses and half a bottle of spirits on the counter. “I don’t need you to tell me how much she worries.”

I feel like I should say something. “If you don’t want Ayre to know…” I make an offer I probably shouldn’t. “I can cover for you. Distract, lie by omission, you need but name a request.” But she is paying me a second time on top of helping me free my sisters. For that? I’m willing to be generous.

“No.” Astraea shakes her head. “I regret how things played out. But I still want to do right by the Princess before departing.”

That gets a scoff out of Idra, who steps away long enough to pull on a pair of trousers and return with a contract.

I am pleased to admit that I only stared after her for a few moments. Both of these women are bigger than me in such exciting ways. Astraea gives me a look. I try to convince her without words that I’m remaining quite demure.

If they decide to punish me for it, I will be good and accept my fate.

Alas, neither of them make any allusions toward showing any intent to do so.

“If you two can put your fantasizing on hold, I’ve got a long list of orders to get to.” Idra rolls an eye in my direction. “Besides, don’t the two of you have places to be?”

Astraea shakes her head but pulls up a chair and quill to fill out what Idra spreads in front of her. “We’ve a while yet. The eldest of Ayre’s siblings is keeping the others on a tight leash. They’re still arranging accommodations for the duration of their stay.”

I nod in acceptance to the evidence that she has been continuing to work in the interests of both Ayre and I.

“Right.” Idra says, not even giving the illusion of being convinced. “If you need me, Astraea, I’ll be making preparations. Just gimme a shout, alright?”

“I will.”

The two of us are left alone.

Astraea pours herself a drink before sitting down to fill out another contract between us.

It is not the coin I’m after, but there is no reason why I cannot find a good use for it.