Two weeks later, Wren once more waves goodbye and heads south. The journey to the Kingdom of Leair is that much easier as Wren took the dwarven backroads through the Tessa Mountain Range without having to pass through Olden-Rise. As Wren passes through the kingdom of Leair, Wren periodically pauses at large villages to learn present news and just what had transpired in the kingdom during the last eight years. Wren didn’t learn much other than that the kingdom’s prince’s wives had given birth to children and that the only princess had been married off to a foreign prince.

Wren did smile a bit at learning that the crown prince’s wife, the crown princess had given birth to two daughters and a son. “Huh, I guess I do have some half-siblings after all,” Wren though to herself with a rueful grin. However, all too soon her excitement died down and grew quiet for the closer Micaellis neared, the quieter Wren became. Perhaps, some subconscious part of her still couldn’t forget the events that had so tragically transpired there.

-28th day of the 9th month of 1527

It was early morning when Wren arrived at the bridge crossing of the Thorpe River. Wren is silent as she eyes the reconstructed bridge that held no scent of the events that had transpired there. With a somewhat heavy heart, Wren steps onto the bridge to find that she is easily able to cross over without any sort of trepidation.

Wren sadly smiles and whispers, “I suppose you wouldn’t want that, would you?” And as if in reply a gentle morning breeze caresses her cheek, before fluttering on high.

Wren snorts and briskly picks up her pace lest she is caught by the morning line that always formed at the gate toll booths. By the time the sun begins to peek over the horizon, Wren reaches the city tolls via the east gate. At the gate, there is a much older burly guard and a new guard at his side.

Wren smiles at the kind burly guard, who blinks in familiarity unable to recognize her. “That will be 1 silver,” the young guard said. Wren hands the silver coin, before heading past as the older guard remains blankly staring afterward.

The younger nudges the older guard and says, “That girl was pretty fine, wasn’t she?”

The older guard warily shakes his head and says, “Maybe, but there was something about her that seemed so familiar from long ago.”

“Nope, I wouldn’t have forgotten such a pretty filly like her, no sir,” the younger guard muttered, before roguishly saying, “Maybe, she reminds you of a side pleasure trip behind your wife’s back, huh?”

The older guard smacks the younger head on the noggin in reply. The younger guard winces and rubs his aching head. “Sheesh, no need to get rough,” the younger guard mumbled under his breath as they got back to work.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Wren winds through the crowd and only stops to ask for directions before continuing. Wren finally arrives at her destination to find the guild completely empty except for a sleepy looking man at the desk. The sleepy man yawns and says, “How can I help you?”

Wren politely answers, “I would like to create a mercenary group.”

“Name and symbol,” the sleepy man said as he took a quill and pen.

“The Fiends and the symbol a sword clenched in hand,” Wren replied.

The sleepy man raises his brow but does not comment at the response. “Alright, now what type of mercenary group will this be?”

“Escorts and bodyguards.”

“Okay, what rank will they be registred at?”

“What’s the highest that can be bought?”

“A C-Class rank for 1,000 Gold coins.”

Wren was already aware of the price and takes out the prepared bag with that exact amount. Placing the pouch onto the desk, Wren says, “Very well, please issue the registered mercenary cards for me.”

The sleepy man yawns and takes the payment to count. Satisfied, the sleepy man chants a spell over the registered items as the various prepared items become printed with the information on the spelled sheet of paper. The sleepy hands over the registered card with the mercenary group information as well a bag full of pins now registered with the emblem of the mercenary group. “Just have your guys wear them in a visible place to show that they are registered mercenaries,” the sleepy man said.

Wren takes the bag and card in hand, before politely nodding in thanks and walking out of the door. Once out of sight, Wren places the items into her space ring, before heading to her next destination. Wren’s feet guide her by memory to the pleasure district.

The cobbled streets are the same as ever with the only new features are the new changes to the pleasure houses. At this early hour, the area is quiet as Wren rather lonely makes her way through the street. Wren pauses in the near distance and gazes at the once familiar pleasure house. At a nearby corner, an old wizened maid sweeps the front steps of the pleasure house.

Wren walks over and says, “Excuse me, Ma’am. I am looking for old friends of my brother, two pleasure girls by the name of Scarlett or Lumi, who once resided at Madam Norialise’s place. Are they still there?”

The wizened maid makes a rubbing motion with her two fingers and Wren quickly hands over two copper coins. The wizened maid instantly pockets the coins and says, “I remember those two well. The half-elf girl was sold to some pervert with a fetish for cripples and died about five years ago. As for the fairy girl-,” the old maid a tsk-tsk sound. “It was just that girl’s poor luck as she was one of the most promising courtesans in the capital, but two years ago she caught the eye of some foreign prince. That prince treated her well enough, but for some unknown reason, the prince had her killed. Bah, men are all the same,” the old maid spat on to the ground in emphasis of her spoken words.

Wren’s heart stills with sadness at the cold, stark realization. She had truly hoped that had not been the case all these eight years, but she knew the rules, very few ever left the brothels alive. “Thank you,” Wren quietly says before walking away.

The old maid shrugs and goes back to her sweeping. It wasn’t a bad start to her long that had already earned her a bite to eat and a pint to drink. And in her line of work, that was pretty good.