The bartender had been kind enough to educate Aileen on how to find inns and taverns, and gave his recommendations on the best. Spending a night at an Orc inn still made her uncomfortable. There were few separate rooms, which worried Aileen at first, but mothers with children were comfortable sleeping out in the common rooms. Despite this, she decided to whisper a low prayer to Tain and set an alarm ward around her before going to sleep. She was stirred awake a few times during the night when other occupants stepped outside to relieve themselves, but no one approached her.
Breakfast was a superb affair. The plain breads, soups and short beers of Turgandy always bored Aileen when she was a child. Ogroth served tender cuts of sauteed meat that had been smoked overnight, slathered in thick, tangy sauces. To drab up the sauce and juice were fibrous tubers lightly coated with pepper. Instead of beer they served fresh-pressed fruit juices and crystal clear water. Aileen feasted, happily paying silver for seconds and thirds. She didn’t realize how hungry she was after a lean week of pickled pork and stale bread.
The chef didn’t seem to mind, in fact they were delighted. There seemed to be plenty to go around, so Aileen enjoyed her meal guilt free as well. As a bonus, the smell of roasting coffee reminded her this was where it was grown. Turgandy sold its coffee at its weight in silver, its supply either stolen from the Mathuni in military raids or grown in meager crops from Turgandy’s own soil.
Here a single silver bought her as many cups as she wanted to drink, as well as a special cushioned stool to sit on. The other Mathuni gathered in circles on these stools and talked over their coffee. It was a peculiar scene for the cleric: the morning sunlight from the gaps in the woven walls falling across almost two dozen muscle-bound Orcs sipping from steaming cups of coffee atop small stools, all of them engaged in gentle conversation.
Aileen left the inn satisfied for the first time in a week. Her legs were still sore and knotted, but the warm coffee eased the pain. She struck out for the bar from yesterday, moving with the flow of the crowds. They liked to walk on the right side of the road, which divided the directions of foot traffic. She didn’t bump into anyone this time, and wondered why she didn’t notice this pattern sooner. Here and there she saw a child darting around the legs of the adults, and when they saw her they would raise their little hands and go “Tzzt!”
Her companion was already at the bar, and to Aileen’s dismay she was already drinking. Ankirat is not even fully above the horizon, woman. Wrangling the Mathuni might be a challenge she was not cut out for. A life of solitude and service left her lacking in social ability, and she accepted that. Hopefully this ‘Maker’ is more outgoing than me.
The bartender pointed Aileen out and Aurgin turned. Dark red-orange hair spilled over her shoulders, and she swatted it back behind her ears. Her tusks seemed to be painted with gentle waves of teal and pink, or maybe that was just a light iridescence on their surface. Her eyes caught Aileen’s attention. With the pink of the horizon behind her their aqua irises stood out. Aileen stumbled over a stone in the road, getting a rough laugh out of Aurgin. Not gravelly, but smoky and low.
“Glad to see I’m not the only one drinking this early,” Aurgin said with a waggle of her cup. “So you are the outlander that Murdoc hired? I’m surprised he went with a Turgen.”
Aileen sniffed. “I am not drunk, and I am not drinking, and neither should you be! Ankirat isn’t even above the horizon–”
“Doesn’t really matter to me, I’ve spent days awake on coffee and jerky alone.” She held up her cup and pondered it. “Don’t worry I won’t get as drunk as I was yesterday. Which you must admit was not that bad.”
The bartender snorted. “You called Dihamhe a lust-drunk dwarf ‘eager to get his hands on the jewels'”.
“And?” Aurgin retorted loftily. “I wanted to rip his jaw off of his face and flail him to death, but I restrained myself.”
The bartender’s smile vanished. “Mnakana’an! Don’t say such horrible things! Are you trying to get a tantrum from me?”
Aileen snuck onto a stool and Aurgin’s face fell. “I’m sorry Haf, that was unnecessary.”
Haf gave a stiff nod and turned to busy himself at the other end of the bar. Aurgin toyed with her cup for a moment, then pushed it away. She gave Aileen a wane smile. “Sorry, it hasn’t been a good week for me.”
“What happened?” Aileen asked. She didn’t expect Aurgin to tell her much, but she was wrong about how much the Mathuni had already drunk.
“Oh I thought Dihamhe and I were really going for something, but when I told him he told me different. Already moved on to his next partner, left me here drinking the memories away.” Her eyes slid back to the cup. “Or trying to, anyway.”
Better get her mind off drinking. “Murdoc failed to tell me anything about Or–uh, Mathuni language before he left. My supplies are spoiled or spoiling.”
“Spoiled! That’s the word, that’s what he called me! Spoiled!” Aurgin shot to her feet, her stool lurching back. She reached out and grabbed Aileen by the hand with a powerful grip. “Bah! C’mere human, the sooner we are gone from this place the better.”
Aileen tried to dig her heels in as she was practically dragged away, but Aurgin didn’t seem to notice the resistance. Her arm was as thick around as Aileen’s leg, and the tendons danced between bulging muscle and stretch-mark strewn skin. “Peace woman, let me go!”
Aurgin didn’t hear. She filled her own ears with her angry mutterings and the bustle of the city. All Aileen could do was keep up, wrinkling her nose as the smell of the alcohol her Mathuni companion was sweating out. The first place Aurgin took her to was an armory.
“Endless damnit, Aurgin, I already have weaponry! I’m wearing my armor right now!” Aileen insisted.
“I know but I need to buy my hammer back.” Aurgin grumbled.
“Why?”
“I sold it because I thought I was going to marry Dihamhe.” Aurgin’s fury softened. “I really thought so.”
Aileen shuffled awkwardly in the street. Aurgin had let go of her hand, letting her massage some feeling back into her wrist where the Mathuni’s grip had left a white mark. “Oh. I wonder why he didn’t think so either.”
Aurgin gave her a look. “Your guess is as good as mine. Please, let’s not talk about this anymore.” With that she marched to the armory. It was one of the few buildings with a rectangular construction, and had thick tree-trunk walls, like the city’s perimeter.
“Hang on,” Aileen said as they made their way towards the first solid door she had seen in Ogroth, “I had to give up my weapons at the gatehouse. Is that only for outlanders?”
“No,” came the reply over Aurgin’s shoulder, “that’s for everyone. When I buy it here they will have a runner bring it to me outside of the city. No weapons are allowed in the city, save for the guards. And the runners.”
“Do you really trust them with your weapon? To bring it to you, I mean?”
“I mean I sold it, so yes.” Aurgin rolled her eyes slightly. “Obviously.”
Aileen sniffed at that, but followed her anyway. Inside was an odd affair. The walls were burdened with weapons on pegs, mostly variations of the wooden clubs with stone edges that Aileen had seen before, but there were also bows. Recurves and longbows of various lengths, a strange short bow with extra limbs on the front, all shown off with a single long, thick arrow beside. Aileen noticed that despite the many weapons, there was only one of each.
Aurgin swaggered across the stone-tile floor, another exception to the city’s dirt-floor rule. The Mathuni within looked the pair of them up and down, short clubs at their waists. Another exception to the weapon ban. It made sense to ensure the weapons were as secure as possible. But why only one of each?
“Kithi kithyan ku’uon mohonotak.” Aurgin announced.
One of the Mathuni nodded. “Anhat anaheim mohonotak eif kiratte tu’na’lamante.”
Aurgin’s face fell and she patted at her waist. She gave Aileen a sheepish look. “Murdoc hasn’t, ah, paid me yet. Would you mind… helping me out? I can mostly afford it.”
Aileen let out a mental sigh. Of course. “Figures. I always seem to be spending money on the women in my life.”
Aurgin’s face broke from its exaggerated, hang-dog look into a surprised grin, one eyebrow cocked. “Oh?”
“How much do you need?”
“I’m short two Silver Tears.”
Aileen pulled out her purse and stared at the coins within. What’s a Tear? What’s the conversion? “Will this do?” she asked as she pulled out one of the Tallings. From the wide eyed looks of the other Mathuni, she guessed it would be.
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“Perfect! Well, actually it’s way too much but they can break it.” Aurgin leaned back and snatched it out of Aileen’s hand. The other Mathuni said something to her companion that Aileen didn’t catch.
“Hm. They want me to ask you something, if you are the outlander with the mace and shield,” Aurgin translated, then paused. “You have a shield? I figured you to be the sword-handler type.”
“Do I look like a man or a paladin?”
The corner of Aurgin’s lips twitched up. “Well you certainly look divine.”
Oh, okay. “Yes, the guards took my mace and my shield.”
Aurgin passed it along, as well as the coin. The Mathuni ignored the coin for a moment and stepped forward, speaking excitedly. Aurgin had to hold her hands back and Aileen stepped away in surprise.
“Yhan yi’in uruwan! Aileen they–they want to–a… Endless Above woman! You should tell me these things!”
“What? What are they asking?” Aileen asked, practically hiding behind Aurgin’s large frame.
“They want to know if your mace is a real piece from… Tavanhand Grand Smith? I think I have that right.”
Aileen shrugged. “Tell them I don’t know, an old paladin gave it to me for finding a Dra’azgol warrior.”
“And the shield?”
“I bought it in Turgandy.”
“But they said it was made by a Dwarven smith in Ultra! That’s no small trip by boat or on foot!” Aurgin gave Aileen a look, raising her voice above the Mathuni who were still trying to get their words translated. “How did you even afford it?”
Aileen decided to dodge having to lie. “Could you get your hammer and let’s go? I can’t answer all these questions!”
“Aerihatta!” She cried. The Mathuni settled down, still brimming with excitement. They traded the coin she gave them for a slip of paper. They also gave her four silver coins from their collective purses, which Aurgin passed along to Aileen. “Here, it's five Tears to a Talling.”
“Thank you. Where is your hammer?”
“I’ll trade this in at a gatehouse for it,” Aurgin said, waving the slip of paper. They left the Mathuni chatting amicably among themselves. As they strode into the sunlight, Aileen decided to press Aurgin for info.
“Why only one of each weapon?”
“They are models, really. I doubt any of those bows could be strung without shattering.”
“So why?”
“Same reason they only gave me a slip of paper,” Aurgin said easily. She turned down a road, leading Aileen on as she talked. “You see what you are buying, but the actual weapon is kept somewhere more secure, and a runner brings it to you when you leave.”
“Then why the solid walls and stone floor?”
Aurgin smiled. “To fool raiders, should the situation get that dire. The Mathuni have been behind in steel production since long before I was born. The days of our origin are almost forgotten to us, and the stories passed down are lost when Turgish warlords butcher our people. We’ve learned better than to surrender what few resources we have to our enemies.”
Aileen let her mind digest this, not trusting herself to speak. She was, after all, a Turgen. Her service to Tain and long life may set her apart from the rest of the Allied Kingdoms, but it was still her nationality. Aurgin took notice, however.
“Don’t worry. If you outlive kings, queens, and all their vile progeny, are you really bound by their rules?” she asked.
“They make sure I am,” Aileen whispered in response. Aurgin tilted her head, but Aileen pushed in a different direction. “Murdoc said something about your…parentage?”
Aurgin groaned and shook her head. “He is a strange dwarf. A strange Folk, more like. I don’t know of anyone else, king or queen, save for one of the Companions, who can fix a lunch date with two gods and any royalty he wants. They would behave themselves, too, if only to save face in front of him. Don’t let his…anything deceive you. Ironeyes is trouble, the kind of trouble that gets you caught along with him.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Aurgin.” Aileen stopped, feeling her legs groan in protest. She had been walking or standing all morning, and the knots in her muscles still gnawed at her. Tonight I am going to pray to Tain for relief.
Aurgin also stopped. “I’m the daughter of Makrus Hammerfiend. His sixth, actually.”
“I don’t believe you,” Aileen said, more to herself than to Aurgin. “Interesting of you to invoke the Companions and avoid admitting you were related to one of them. Who is your mother? You said you–”
“Peace, Aileen. I don’t like wielding the name because it causes trouble. Makrus is controversial among the Mathuni, among all Folk. Sure his stories delight the fireside crowds but his actual presence? His kin? The reminders that he isn’t some story, some monster or some hero born from our imaginations, but a real Folk who has killed real kings and toppled real fiefs? I think a Turgen, of all Folk, would understand that.”
Aileen bit her tongue. Makrus Hammerfiend, one of the mythical Seven Companions, was indeed a real Folk who caused real trouble. Aileen was born before their rise to legendary status, but the Companions were like divinities unto themselves. Mialoth the Arcane, who broke apart mountains with her mind and flayed her enemies alive for practice. Tegmark Endero who incited riots with just his singing voice alone and caused the Merrion revolution on a bet. Baerkavar the Traveller, a devil-Folk from the Hell of Torment who danced and cartwheeled with a sword that could teleport. Sephanid Gim, the lightning Conren who summoned storms and beat dragons to death with nothing but his wits and bare talons.
Then there were Makrus Hammerfiend and Norstedd Danir. The Breaker of Chains and the Kingkiller. Like twin reapers they had slaughtered the entire court of Caelumnar, leading its people into a revolt that saw the crowning of a new heritage over one of humanity's most powerful nations. Norstedd, the paladin who wielded the Unmarked Blade and faced down a dozen blademasters at once was a popular character in Turgen Tales, though it was his piety that was highlighted.
The same could not be said for Makrus Hammerfiend. Decades ago, when Aileen was abroad for missionary work in the hovels that dotted Karnen’s Point, one Count Mithtrion tried to stand out among his rivals and allies by bringing one of the Companions to heel by having Makrus’ second daughter killed and her head mounted on a pike. He spent two days feasting and celebrating his victory, conveniently brushing aside the mound of soldiers that died to validate his ego.
On the second night of jubilation, villages and fortresses began to go quiet. By the end of the week, messages from the outer reaches of his land stopped entirely. By the end of the twelfth day, Makrus made his lone assault on Mithtrion’s home. Few stories were told about that night, only the sound of a gate and iron portcullis exploding under the force of the Hammerfiend. The entire fiefdom had been slaughtered, and Mithtrion’s remains were lost in the gore and rubble that remained of his home.
Aurgin’s aqua eyes were harsh. Aileen had no doubt that this half-rumor was a pale retelling of the true violence visited upon the Turgen lord. The Mathuni turned as she broke the silence.
“So I keep it close. My father worries about us, and for good reason. To be a Hammerfiend is to be a target, and no matter how strong I become or how skilled I am with my hammer, it only takes one arrow; one slip up or missed watch.”
Aileen followed her in silence. They stopped by a grocer to load up on preserved food, and though the mood was still low she delighted at the various dried meats, bread, and nuts that were available. Turgandy did not have many options when it came to traveling food. Aurgin then insisted on buying a simple tin-coated pot, as well as a rope, pair of waterskins, and a skillet. All of these were in addition to Aileen’s equipment, but Aurgin insisted they would come in handy.
They stopped by a cobbler to have their boots repaired and resoled. Aileen was surprised to see that Ogroth had a cobbler, and was more surprised to see the deference that the Mathuni treated them with. “When your smallest son is six foot three and weighs three hundred pounds, shoes become very important,” Aurgin quoted as a means of explanation.
The cobbler told them to come back the next morning before they left, leaving them bare-footed for the night. Aurgin didn’t seem to mind, telling Aileen that the dirt roads were usually clear of roots or rocks. Several stubbed toes let Aileen know this wasn’t true.
Ankirat was falling towards the horizon by the time Aurgin ran out of things to shop for. They had spent hours visiting artisans and markets, getting everything from walking sticks to new clothes to thicker bedrolls. Aileen was pleasantly surprised to learn her old equipment could be traded in, cleaned, and given to someone less fortunate than she. By the end of the day, her purse was heavier for how many pennies her silver had been broken into. Aurgin also seemed satisfied with a successful day of preparation. “The last thing we should do today is get you a bath.”
“Huh?” Aileen stopped from where she was tightly packing her new food and clothes so they could fit into her new backpack.
Aurgin gave her a cheeky smile. “You stink.”
Aileen scowled. “You stink too, but I haven’t commented on it. How is smelling nice supposed to help us out in the wild?”
“Wisdom of the Endless, being dirty makes you sick and infects wounds.” She squatted down beside Aileen. “You, of all Folk, should know that.”
“Of course I know that, it doesn’t mean I should bathe here.” She went back to cramming her backpack. “I’ll find a stream.”
“Oh but will a stream or pond compare to a heated sauna?”
“You seem quite interested in getting me naked.”
Aurgin scoffed, but she didn’t lose her smile. She also stopped pushing, which Aileen was only partially disappointed about. Ogroth was not the only city with public baths, but Aileen wasn’t one to partake in them even in Turgandy. They seemed like a needless risk, especially for a woman. The Mathuni were not how she expected, but that didn’t mean she needed to indulge in every luxury they had.
Instead she returned to the inn she spent last night in to indulge in another feast-sized meal of tangy meats, thick broths and freshly baked bread smeared with nut butter. She was disappointed there was no coffee, but figured it would only keep her up. A whispered prayer to Tain warded her sleeping space and a gentle golden glow suffused her legs and unwound the knots in them. Before she drifted off to sleep, Tain came to her in her mind’s eye. It appeared as a bright star ringed by ten smaller stars–Tain’s Angels which commanded their own worship and churches.
Aileen considered it an honor and an opportunity. “Is Murdoc lying? Does he speak the truth?” she asked her god. Their divine connection stole the whisper from her lips so other Folk could not eavesdrop.
MURDOC SPEAKS THE TRUTH. THIS QUEST IS A WORK OF MINE AND MIALOTH’S.
Tain’s speech was not the manipulation of air in a throat. Their voice came from the moving of Kyranta, with waterfalls for whispers and ocean waves for lisps. Landslides ground out syllables in tandem with the melting of ice and dripping of water. Birdsong colored Their tone. Aileen did not hear Tain, she experienced Tain’s meaning. Every time they spoke together, Aileen had to take pauses to regather her strength.
“Why?” was all she could ask.
THIS YOU WILL DISCOVER. THE WORLD CHANGES, MARCHES FORWARD TOWARDS THE UNKNOWN. PATTERNS SEEN ONCE HAVE BEEN SEEN AGAIN. OMENS OF DANGER POINT TO THE FESTERING OF EVIL IN THE DARK. TOO LONG HAVE THE FIRSTBORN WAGED THEIR GENOCIDE ON THE FOLK. TOO LONG HAVE THE FOLK SQUABBLED AMONG THEMSELVES. IT IS TIME TO ACT.
A great, invisible hand massaged the back of Aileen’s mind, and sleep took her. Far above, just rising above the horizon, Tain’s star rose encircled by Their angels. Mialoth the Arcane watched the same star rise, her labyrinthine mind working furiously.