Qave stood from her seat, pushing away her half-eaten plate, and started walking around the table, stretching her one hand. Deqa barred her path. She tried to get past, but the far stronger half-orc kept her from the steps while Tamara, red-spotted wings gliding through the air, landed right in front of the Metal Mage with a pained groan.
“Check yourself, Cyra,” she said.
“Out of my way!” Qave bellowed.
“Not before you calm down,” Deqa answered, head turning to look at the human. “Before you both calm down.”
Bleeding green from his nose, he pointed at the Green Orc. “She punched me! Tried to kill me twice in the span of a day.”
“You tried to kill my wife! Tried to kill me!” Qave said. “Betrayed us for your little human friend.”
“I! Don’t! Know! Her! We’d already killed someone! Lost one of us in turn! Because of HIM!!!” Cyra pointed at Hann, breathing hard. “No more deaths were needed. And if I tried to kill you two, you’d be dining with the Mother as we speak.”
Everyone kissed their thumbs and lifted them into the air. A prayer to the [Sol-M.System] they’d failed. Everyone but Gabrilore, Hann and Qave, last of whom snorted.
“The nerve of this mage,” she said.
Hann heard a figure moving behind him before they came into his vision. Fame, breathing hard through his broken, regenerating beak.
“We all… voted,” the humanoid Eagle said.
“Yes, we did,” Gabrilore said from his table. “And my wife voted against the job. Knew how wrong it could go. Why was she the one who got to pay for it? Hmm. For my mistake. For yours. Why did he tell us to attack a Council Member, and one of the strongest ones at that. More importantly, why did we listen to the fool; instead of doing what Cyra did? We deserve what we get, all of us. All I hope is that Nic can forgive me for what I’ve done to her.”
He started weeping. Forgetting the Mage and the Orc, Tamara limped back over to her husband, embracing him, her own tears catching speed.
“Why so silent, Skyborne?” Qave said, leaning on the table, having already given up her pursuit and hungry for another one. “Letting the paining Eagle fight your battles for you. Not even looking up from your new slumbering book.”
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Skyborne. Hann’s gray wings started to unfurl, scratching at the half-cropped back rest of his seat. He wanted to bang the table. To rip the pages off the book in his hands. To fly at the Orc and give her the fight she was craving. He wanted to lash out, like he’d always done. He’d lost a best friend because of it. This feeling. And he didn’t want to lose another one.
A hand on his shoulder. “Calm, Avendari,” Fame said, and letting in a deep breath, he nodded, tapping at the Eagle’s hand.
His wings went back down. He gazed at Qave. “I let her get to me. I lost it,” he turned his gaze to the bald, dark-skinned mage standing beside the broken table. “I attacked her identity—your identity—without provocation,” his gaze went back to the Orcs. “I forced you two to choose between my reckless command and the friend who was willing to disobey it,” he turned his head to the grieving Sky-Elf and the partner she was consoling. She had a dark look in her eyes. Murderous. One wrong word and… “Nic died because of me. You all almost died because of me. I will always be ashamed of what I did. Of all I’ve done in your name. And I hope I’ll pay for even a fraction of it by taking the entire burden of my foolish choice, and the repercussions that will come of it, off your hands. None of you deserve to be in this prison. I do. Say the truth—that you were only abiding by the rules of the school, to follow the decree of your Order-Head—and I’ll follow your lead.”
Qave and Deqa shared a look. “Alright. We’ll hold you to it,” Cyra said.
“No, we won’t,” The half-orc touched her wife’s shoulder before leaving the way clear and walking back to her chair. “No one’s getting kicked out.”
“How are you so sure?” Lita asked, still seated by her husband, whose tears had ceased, but no longer embracing him.
Silence. Hesitation? “She’s not,” Cyra said, walking with a slight limp from the site of his destruction and sitting on one of the steps.
“Didn’t know you were a [Telepath], dumba—”
She interrupted her wife; “What I meant was, we are not living the worst-case scenario. The [ocean.prince] is alive, though not for a lack of trying in our part, and the woman who sent us to rough him up happens to be presiding on our case.”
Hann’s friend was lying. Whatever the reason she thought they could get out the situation scot-free, it was neither of the two. Deqa could keep secrets? He could feel Qave watching him, catching on to his catch-on.
“The same woman who helped her biggest rival defeat us. Somehow, I don’t trust she’ll keep her word,” the Mage said.
“It was supposed to be an intimidation job. A way to threaten him into doing something she wanted done. The Ranger showing up was a strike of chance. We had to improvise. So did the [Geomancer].”
“And if improvising means leaving us out to dry?”
“A Geomancer always pays back their debts,” Gabrilore said, voice a little tight. “We have to trust she’ll hold up her end, for reputation’s sake alone, if anything. Who would work with her if we talked?”
No one said the obvious. If a ruined reputation was the [merchant.princess]’ only problem, there was more than one way to solve it.