Ayuen
Herhor’s End, The Grasping Isle
Ayuen's Appearance [https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/926707024362885130/1045841100604186624/Ayuen-WayX.png]
Ayuen of Marlight
The blankets stirred when the rays of the sun crept inside through the cracks of the window shutters. With a mumble, she shifted her wings beneath the sheets and rolled over to lay on her side, facing away from the window that allowed those mean rays to shine through. She wished to enjoy the softness of the blankets more, the bounciness of a mattress filled with fine straw. The contrast of the beds with sleeping on the ground in a leather sleeping bag made it such that she wished beds were portable. Pulling the linen blankets up to her chin, she nuzzled her cheek further into the cushion, concluding that waking up was slowly becoming a more and more impossible endeavour. The Pyrn woman took a deep breath, slowly releasing it into the pillow with a sigh.
Last night, she stayed up for quite a bit more after Rove had gone downstairs. It was rather infuriating at the time how few things you could effectively write while riding on a horse. Then again, it had been a while since she last rode on horseback, so maybe it’d come in time. She had taken her time filling in the blanks she skipped over when they were travelling on horseback and putting her grievances with Rove on paper where he couldn’t find it out. Even though the herhor was undoubtfully skilled in his trade and appeared to have a lot of contacts, she didn’t quite understand why he didn’t extend his courtesy to her. She’d witnessed him do it before. But always to others of his profession and ilk. When Rove went down for a drink, she snuck down for a little bit, spying on him while he sat at the bar. She witnessed how he rallied his colleagues against the rowdy patrons and even got their bodyguards to act against them. Then why didn’t he act the same way towards her? Didn’t she try to treat him with respect when they started on their travels? Granted, her anger and frustration had gotten the better of her once or twice and the way the two of them had quarrelled during the trip to Herhor’s End didn’t exactly shout ‘respect’.
And that was also one of the reasons why she wanted to keep her other nightly activity a secret. After they’d been attacked on their way to Herhor’s End, Ayuen had concluded that they might need her magical powers again at some point. As such, she had snuck out from the window last night when Rove was fast asleep and full of ale, silently gliding through the night to the grass field outside of the city, where she could practice in relative peace. She bit her lip as she thought about her training. It had been years since she last practice Chain magic, and she’d noticed that she couldn’t trust to do it on muscle memory alone. Replicating a big blast was rather easy, although a tad exhausting. But it was more about building up the power slowly so that she didn’t damage her soul. It would take her a good while to regain the feeling for it, regain the necessary control. Her talent lay with this sort of magic, not the healing Beacon magic she’d been taught by the elders to replace her more destructive talent. With a small gesture, she conjured a small flame in her hand, carefully guiding the ambient magic around her through the mould of her soul. The flame glowed a soft red in the gloam of her room. Chain magic had many uses, she’d found.
However, the fact remained that it was a destructive kind of magic. A magic that at its basis, was suitable for removing things from the equation of the world. Coupled with her still regaining her footing it made it a recipe for disaster. She didn’t want to cause any collateral damage, so Rove couldn’t know she was working on improving her mastery over the magic she’d so haphazardly used when they were ambushed.
With her thoughts becoming more aggravating and running amok through her mind like a stampede of cattle, Ayuen gave up on getting comfortable and went to sit upright. She took a look through the room, her eyes sliding towards Rove’s bed. Empty. Of course, it was. Why wouldn’t it be? The herhor had been up early the majority of the journey, training and preparing. Honestly, she would’ve loved a more chatty travelling companion, but she couldn’t deny he was a good guide and a better bodyguard. But he was a person. And people had their flaws. Freezing up at the sight of those armed men during their trip here had been inconvenient, to say the least. She took out her notebook and looked over her scribbles: the information about that particular encounter, penned down the evening before.
She looked over the description of the men they’d encountered, and the reaction Rove had. Armed men from a noble family from a country far from here, a tree emblazoned on their gear. Why they’d be here on the Grasping Isle was still anyone’s guess, but she did know that Rove knew more about them. Feared them even. His face had told her more than a thousand words in that regard.
She hummed as she slowly scratched the side of her nose, thinking about her companion.
Rove. The Herhor that had completed every one of his contracts without fail. Except for one. A single blemish on an otherwise remarkable career. Was there a connection between their encounter and that single failure? Had to be. It was too random that somebody, as trained as him, froze up otherwise. Even when they were confronted by three armed mercenaries he did not waver, moving to protect her. Even if those three mercs had been less skilled than him individually, they’d not been slouches either. Trained and experienced, with a good plan to take them down. Nonetheless, she hadn’t seen any fear in Rove during that skirmish, only confidence and grim determination.
But their encounter with those riders had been different. He’s frozen up completely, being unable to coherently speak for a bit. In her eyes, those men even had been quite friendly, even though it sounded like they’d been looking for them. Nothing a bit of bluffing and pretty fluttering of her eyes couldn’t handle though.
Looking at the blank spots in her little booklet, she softly hummed. Her annoyance in regards to Rove made way for curiosity towards the man instead. What had been his dealings with them? There had to be an intriguing story there. Just had to be.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
With another sigh, she closed the booklet and stored it away in her bag. She could hear a single chime of a village bell outside, ringing once. One hour after sunrise. Perfect. The Pyrn woman stretched her arms upwards with a groan, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Time to get up and continue. Wouldn’t want to keep Trïeste waiting.
The mere thought of having another companion, and a woman at that, was enough to get her in good spirits. They’d agreed to meet at the local Herhor’s Office two hours after sunrise. So that left about one hour to partake in a good breakfast and make her way towards the office. Plenty of time, so she figured. Softly whistling a cheerful tune, she got dressed, exchanging her loose nightgown for her travel clothing. Finally putting her sash around her slender waist, she picked up her cloak and carefully draped it over her, concealing her wings best she could. She really should’ve taken more magical disguises with her. A well, normal clothes would do. She wasn’t able to hide the hunchback her wings caused, but it was better than keeping them out in the open for now. Out on the road, she could stretch them a little more, perhaps.
She then took her bags and slung them over her shoulder. Doing a final sweep of her side of the room, she found one of her spare pencils under the bed and she put it back in her bag. Confident that she now had everything that belonged to her, she made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her.
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As she went down the stairs, she took her first good look around the common room, taking in the patrons present and the general atmosphere. All in all, it was quite similar to the Happy Duckling back in Handport, although this inn suffered from a lack of apples in its décor. Like, it shouldn’t have been named the ‘Green Apples in a Basket’. There were plenty of baskets, but they weren’t even filled with fake apples, let alone real ones. At least the Duckling had ducks incorporated into its interior. But not this inn. A rather major letdown in her opinion. She would’ve loved a good apple. Then again, the comfortable beds did make up for a good portion of the disappointment.
With a critical look in her eyes, she made her way towards the bar. Rove was already sitting at the bar, a mostly empty plate of bread and cheese in front of the man, together with a cup of juice. While she approached him, she looked at her, and after a moment nodded in greeting.
“Good morning, Miss Ayuen.”
“Good morning, Herhor Rove.”
She went to sit next to him just as the barkeep walked back from the inn’s storage, greeting her with a wide smile and a wave.
“G’d mornin’, ma’am! Can I get ye somethin’ to eat?”
Returning his smile with a warm one of her own, she nodded, shifting on her barstool to make herself more comfortable, putting her bags on the ground beside her.
“Yes, please. Some bread, cheese and a glass of juice or the like to wash it down with would be much appreciated.”
“Alright, ma’am! Comin’ right up. Just give me a moment.”
And with that, the barkeep disappeared into his storage again, humming merrily. It would appear she wasn’t the only one in a good mood today. Humming herself, she rocked her legs back and forth while she looked through the establishment while she waited. It didn’t take long for the innkeeper to make his way back, and when he did, he brought a good platter of fresh brown bread and good old salty cheese with him. It was soon followed by a glass of, going by the smell, was grape juice. Not bad for a quick breakfast. After he put it all down, he made a small bow before the pyrn and walked to the other end of the bar to pick up an order over there.
She picked up the bread and broke it open, spreading the cheese upon it. Taking a small bite, she momentarily savoured the taste of the crispness of the cheese with the fluffiness of the bread. So much better than trail rations, although the wild roast they’d had along the way hadn’t been bad either. Swallowing her bite of bread, she cast a glance in Rove's direction.
“So, sir Rove. Have you been up long?”
Some small talk might close the gap between the two of them just a little. Her curiosity was peaked, plus getting a bit closer to him would make her feel a bit more at ease. She was a social creature, after all. The herhor looked at her funny, eyebrow quirked and sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he seemingly relented.
“A while, miss. I’ve asked around a bit about some troublemakers that visited the inn yesterday and made a ruckus. But those idiots seem to actually be clever and sleep their hangover away. So that’s nice.”
He took a big swig of juice, putting the cup down with a thud.
“For the rest, I haven’t got that much to report. Your meeting with that Trïeste lady can go on without issue.” He glanced sceptically at her. “Are you sure you want to hire her?”
“Oh definitely.” She said, nodding vehemently. “She’d be a fine addition to our little band. Herbalism, Beacon Magic, she’s frankly perfect! Users of the magic arts of any kind tend to be rather rare to come across, right? Let alone purveyors of the Beacon arts.”
Rove huffed at her last comment, blowing his hair up a few centimetres. He gave her a somewhat sceptical look. Oh dear, what did he have to say this time?
“Well, there are a couple to be found, but you need to know where to look. They don’t come cheap though. Did you even think about asking miss Trïeste about her price? If we can afford her services?”
Well, that wasn’t that bad of a question. She had talked it over with the girl fairly quickly when Rove had been brooding. Ha, that’d show him.
“I actually did.” She said confidently while she smugly took another bite of her breakfast. “She said she’d accept five silver palms for her services during the trip.”
To her satisfaction, both his brows raised this time, higher than she’d seen before in a while.
“Five palms? For the trip? That’s a steal? Are you entirely sure?”
“Entirely. I’m not very surprised that she’d accept such an amount of money. We rescued her from those thugs after all.”
“… Fair…” The herhor said slowly, doubt still clearly hearable in his voice. He shook his head, taking another deep breath before continuing to talk.
“Well ma’am, if you’re sure that she is the right person for the job, I’ll trust your… let's call it judgment. I’m not very at home in matters of nature and magic.”
“Much appreciated.” She replied in a dry tone. At least he was willing to trust her judgment on some things. Better than nothing.
“Speaking of our appointment with Trïeste, I’d suggest we leave for the Herhor’s office.” She continued, finishing her breakfast and wiping off her fingers with a handkerchief. “Would be rather rude of us if we were to arrive late, would it not?”
Her companion gave a slight nod, and the Herhor picked up his cup, downing the last bit of his juice. With a flat hand, he struck the counter and left some copper fingers where he’d hit it, standing up with a sigh. The Herhor hoisted his travel pack on his shoulders, fastening the straps to make sure it wouldn’t slip while walking.
Standing up as well, she put her bags over her shoulders and made sure her hair flowed over the straps. She waved at the innkeeper, giving him a friendly smile.
“Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll make sure to keep your establishment in mind for the way back.”
The older man returned her smile, appearing to hold back somewhat of a chuckle for some reason.
“Very well, ma’am. Many thanks!”
She nodded, making her way through the inn’s common room and going outside, followed closely by Rove.
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/554030201789743105/1028654515798409237/Grasping_Isle_Final_V1.0.png]