Among the numerous foreign flowers, grapevines and tiny trees Qistina enjoyed her time at the roof garden. Sitting at the tea table she viewed the training grounds of the barracks as new recruits received their beating from the officer. Pitiable bunch getting harsh treatment on their first serving day. It will benefit their discipline in the long run. Her husband approved of such savage methods, but hers were none too gentle either. She glanced at her daughter, who shifted nervously on her seat in a silky black robe, keeping silent. Respect which might have been confused with obedience. A beautiful young lady she has grown to be, face perfect and slightly sharp as if a carved sculpture of the Spring Lady herself. Pale tan skin reminiscent of her parents' union. It’s almost like staring in the mirror a few decades prior.
— How are you faring, daughter? Has the last hunt gone well? — Qistina asked, her voice sweet and soothing, yet impartial at the same time.
— I am alright, mother. Though the contract was troublesome, a job well done all the same. However, the client has yet to receive his goods and I, my Scraps. Thus, I will depart right after our conversation is over. — Lethe mirrored her mothers aloof tone.
Initially, when Lethe had voiced her wish to become a renowned Tracker for the first time, Qistina was firmly against it. Believing her child unfit for the rough life of a mercenary, turning to her husband for aid. A foolish mistake on her part that was. Ivar had supported the girl's aspirations and groomed her into a formidable warrior for her age. That produced a crack in their relationship that has been subtly present ever since.
A sight escaped her lips and she continued:
— Good to hear. Now, shall we get straight to business or you want to talk to me about anything else? I hope my summoning didn’t upset Sabrine too much, it is an important discussion I want to have with you, daughter.
Tacitly ignoring an incredulous look Lethe shot at her, Qistina chuckled inwardly, letting the words sink in while she had a nice sip of homemade black wine. Her daughters puzzled expression amused her to no end.
— How? Since when?! — she jumped from her seat belatedly, horrified by the implications of this discussion.
— Sit down. — Qistinas tone was firm and demanding yet peaceful, as she turned to face her daughter. — Of course I knew, child. Nothing you do in this city goes unnoticed. Most just don’t pay enough attention for it to matter. You are a clever girl, Lethe, you expected we wouldn’t approve of such behavior, from our blood no less. We still don’t. However, due to varied degrees of disobedience you showed at the time I decided to oblige you in a little rebellion, and didn’t beat out that absurd notion of you, no matter how much I wished for it to be resolved just as easily. It took me quite some time and tremendous effort to prevent Ivar from doing exactly that after the news had reached us for the first time. Do you know why? — Qistina pursed her lips studying her daughter.
Lethe didn’t dare to defy her this time, obediently getting back to her cushioned chair. She frowned, pondering a valid reason for her mothers actions. Qistina never did anything half heartedly or without agenda, that she knew for sure and experienced such measures on her own skin.
— Knowing you, mother, it would mistakenly be for teaching me an incredibly valuable life lesson. — she pouted, every word seeping with sarcasm. — Let the girl play around, eventually she would end up heartbroken and come running back in tears.
Qistina chuckled at her smug-voice imitation but shook her head.
— Partially correct, also your conclusion of my goals is misplaced; it is not far from the truth. There are too many “ifs” in it and a dozen of things that could go unpredictably wrong. I do love you, daughter, and would plan no such life lessons, as you named them, to endanger your life over some common knowledge. — she gave Lethe an almost indignant glare before continuing: — The idea was for you to teach yourself. Independance, cunning, foresight and planning. Those are the qualities you have obtained over two years of hiding in plain sight of your own family and citizens. Everyone has something to hide, Lethe, but not all have the ability to let their secrets stay hidden.
Qustina put her empty glass on the wooden table, pondering if her method worked out as intended.
Lethe sat silently across, staring at her mother with a complex expression. Qistina always wished the best for her, even giving her private lessons based on the council's disputes after an exhausting day of work. Politician to the bone, yet a loving mother nonetheless. She overlooked her rebellious drive for sinful pleasures looking after her from the shadows. There also was a prospect of manipulation in these benevolent actions, her true intention might have been to win back the trust that she lost not so long ago, but, in whole Lethes honesty, it kinda worked out fine even if her mother was devious enough to do that much. Qistina stopped giving her any lessons after Lethe became a Tracker, she thought it had been a childish outburst of her mother, a way to make her less wanted in the family so to speak. How wrong she was. Mother cared, just in her own way.
Looking at her daughter drowning in thought Qistina smiled, pleased to see the fruits of her labor. A genuine easy smile, the one she reserved for such occasions.
— Oh well, I suppose it’s time to bring up the main reason for our meeting. I still hope you will reconsider your preferences or expand them if you wish; my life most likely won’t be long enough to see grandchildren. — she sighed dramatically, smiling with only her eyes. — What are your plans for the future, Lethe?
Sudden change of topic caught her off guard way less than teasing, and not because it was from standing Justiciar of Vitrum, but also her mother of all people. Actually, Lethe couldn’t remember the last time Qistina was this relaxed and playful, if she ever was. Lethe broke from her stupor and tried to put on a more serious expression but seeing her mother's mischievous smile brought one on her own lips. Maybe they are related after all.
— Well, — she started, giving up all seriousness, — firstly, I would definitely like to lose my virginity to some good looking boy and enjoy my bed adventures with a new company in order not to disappoint my beloved mother! Secondly, my body is fully developed now, so I made a sketch of a plan on how to temper it for my needs. The research is due for this, obviously, and Scraps are of no concern right now. I can sustain myself pretty well with the income from guild contracts but my last goal aimed at this specifically. — she laid her head on the back of her palms, leaning closer over the table: — I’m in search of a nice, juicy, long term contract that will last me however much I could manage to bargain. Perhaps, just perhaps, I’m going to find one later this day.
A sudden scream from the training grounds below caught their attention as both viped the smirkes of their faces and turned to look at the source. It ended up rather easy to deduce what happened with an impaled recruit wailing on sand. Qistina shook her head and got up, returning to her cool and aloof mask.
— I approve of this plan, daughter. However, please consult your father before doing anything regarding the body tempering. The rest is up to you. Now, excuse me but there is a dire need of mediation and medication down there. — she finished her glass in one go and went to the staircase.
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— Sure, will do, mom! Good luck! — Lethe saw her off with a wave before taking a better look at another recruit.
It was a strange scene. On the round arena of sand that took most of the training grounds, a petite blond girl in recruit armor just stood there in front of her kneeling comrade while an officer, who seems to be Basir, loudly berated them both with the ugliest an imaginative swearing she has ever heard from him. It was truly bizarre, Lethe could not fathom how the girl did what she did with a training staff. Mentally noting to check up on her, she drained her untouched glass savoring the bitter-sweet notes before the dry taste emerged from it and she winced, coughing. Why the hell's dung would she drink a dry black wine in a bloody desert?!
Lethe stormed down to the kitchen on the first floor and gulped a couple jars of water before heading to her room to get dressed, silently cursing her mothers tastes. Fortunately, there was no need to carry armor in the city, however she still was going to wear a spare hunting outfit just to sell a professional image of herself to the client.
Lethes' room appeared as modest as the mansion itself. A simple bed to the far wall, where two people could fit comfortably, a white wooden wardrobe and an ornate full height mirror right next to it. Some miscellaneous stuff was all over the place, like, for instance, beautifully crafted bone flute that hung on the entrance wall or a few stacks of books in the corner. She learned a lot of stuff from Qistina at a young age, also not all the acquired skills were of much significance, yet she enjoyed playing her flute quite a bit. It was a tidy room now, thanks to the effort maids put in it, no spec of dust in sight. Lethe was not really concerned about how her room looked, nevertheless it sure was more pleasant not to live in a dump.
She threw off her robe on the bed, changing in tight leather pants and a bluish padded jacket. She learned very early on in her career that a spare hunting outfit is a necessity for a Tracker, not a luxury. During the day in a desert such clothes would definitely be a hindrance but in the city full of blooming greens and fresh water? It was bearable, not to mention that she was used to worse. After a quick dress up, Lethe took her bags and pouches from the armory and headed straight to the exit, where Sabrine had been waiting for her for some reason.
— Young miss, have you not forgotten something? — she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Did she? Piling through her memories, Lethe couldn’t quite put her finger on what Sabrine meant. Image of their nude bodies in the bath chamber soon came to mind and she smirked.
— Sorry, Rin, that will have to wait until I’m done with the contract. — she said, kissing her cheek and stepping towards the door.
— Lethe. — Sabrine called out, dangling a flask of transparent liquid before her forgetful young mistress.
— Oh… — Lethe blushed slightly, taking an awkward step back as she reached for the flask only to grasp the air.
She pursed her lips, staring at the maid for explanation. Unfazed, Sabrine leaned closer, whispering pleasantly to her ear:
— Tonight I will await my reward, young mistress.
— A punishment more likely. How dare you tease your mistress? — Lethe whispered back before giving those plum red lips a treat they deserved.
* ••
By the time she got to the trading district it was already booming with life. Contrary to the slams inhabitants, people here wore all kinds of cloth ranging from simple tunics to outrageously colorful dresses or Tracker gear. Trading square of Vitrum had the least amount of greenery compared to the other places of the city and it still appeared verdant even under the shade of hundreds of cloth canopies. Probably one of the reasons nomad merchants loved to visit Vitrum so much. Obviously not because it sheltered the greatest glassblowers in Glass Wastes, no, surely not.
Lethe added spring to her step maneuvering around covered stalls and bargaining crowds. She waved at the guards, who dragged a pair of arguing merchant kids to the side and returned her a polite nod. So professional, she rolled her eyes, knowing the guard's gaze was still on her ass when she passed them. In their moment of distraction one of the kids broke free and tried to leg it, only to end up facing the pavement while another patrol shackled him. The crowd gawked at the scene, some snickering, others shaking their heads. Theft and squabble were bad for business and all of them were glad to be rid of annoying troublemakers. As soon as the situation was resolved and both kids taken to custody, Lethe averted her gaze and searched for her client's workshop. It was a common sight at the trading square; merchants argued over the tiniest things and have been getting into fights more than any drunk mercenary Lethe has ever seen.
A bit further from the main street she turned to a small alley that led to a single story building with a carved sandstone sign that stated: «Dawood’s Brewing». Questionable naming as Lethe had noted to her client the last time she visited; he seemed concerned with her remark yet there it is, the sign still stands. Heavy wooden door was propped by a stone to stay open for any interested visitors and the only thing that got in the way were loose door curtains. Shrugging to herself, she hopped to the doorstep and brushed off the multicolored cloth, moving in with a polite greeting.
— Good morning mister Dawood, the commission you requested has been delivered.
Rattle could be heard at the back of the shop and a flustered voice came soon after.
— Ah yes, yes, the- the delivery! One moment miss Tracker I will be out in just a moment! — more clinking and clanking sounded from the back accompanied by Dawood’s muffled swearing.
While he was doing… whatever he was doing, Lethe glanced over the shop's interior, spacious room with a bit of dust here and there; bookshelves were full of jars with beast parts or some disturbingly looking liquid instead of books. The carriers of knowledge were piled up behind the counter away from anything that could damage them in this shop. Wooden floor… was dusty as well, but there were marks leading to the other part of the building like something was dragged out of here not so long ago. She raised an eyebrow, tracing the marks to the door behind the counter where now stood the shopkeeper. Her contractor has not changed much from a few days ago, still messy brown hair on dark skin, deep amber eyes covered by spectacles and noticeably thin build, even under a baggy robe.
— Greetings, miss Lethe! You said the- the delivery… Am I to assume that it’s red centipedes’ Maw Mucus? — he came forth, rubbing his hands sheepishly.
She smiled politely, almost like her mother, and nodes to him.
— Indeed you can. Besides, I can see you have taken at least some of my advice regarding your workshop. — she said, looking around again
— Oh, yes- yes I have! Most of them actually. Your pointers were much appreciated, miss. Without those cumbersome glass boxes here… It’s a great benefit for myself and future customers! Alas, I have had no chance at changing the sign- too much legal paperwork. — he waved his hand in the air, clearly annoyed.
— A shame… a different name would probably attract more customers.
— And- and what’s wrong with the shop's name? I am brewing elixirs and healing mixtures here! — he looked abashed, not really understanding why she brought up this topic again.
Lethe straind a smile, slightly raising her eyebrows.
— How many people came here for… drinks as of late? — she asked nonchalantly.
— Hm? How did you know? It- it was quite a few… why, though? My workshop is definitely an apothecary, it looks nothing like some kind of- bar! Why would they even… — he stopped, face pale and bemused, realizing exactly why those people came here.
He took off his spectacles, massaging the nose ridge and sat down behind the counter.
— Oh, well, I guess- guess the name needs to go.
— Correct.
— But- but what should I call my workshop instead? I thought so hard on that one… — he frowned, pondering. — Dawood’s Apothecary? No, that’s too basic. Dawood’s Fumes? Hell dung, no! Dawood’s Pestle? Wait, it sounds-
— Let’s keep on track shall we? Naming can wait. — she was glad to have interrupted him on that, as she mirrored Sabrine, dangling a flask of Maw Mucus in front of the alchemist.
His eyes lit up with fascination as he reached for the vial but stopped mid way, noticing her glare.
— Oh, right, keep- keep it intact for a while, please, I- I’ll go find the payment…
At least he looked properly sheepish.