Ayuen
Herhor’s End, The Grasping Isle
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It was quite nice weather outside, with the majority of the sun’s rays breaking through the clouds above. If it had been up to her, she would’ve liked the temperature to be a little bit higher, but it wasn’t too unpleasant. Ayuen just hoped that the forecast for today didn’t include any blood, pain or excessive amounts of running for her life. That instead, she’d have somebody else than a sour-faced Herhor to share her grievances and annoyances with. Whistling a soft tune, she walked through the streets with Rove beside her, the poet taking in the sights and walking towards the Herhor’s office. The road was already bustling, the local tradesmen were already heading out of town, having completed their preparations early in the morning.
The Herhor’s office, or the Job and Bounty Office as it was officially known, was situated on the northern side of town. It was a rather well-fortified building, two stories high and made of stone, the windows on the outside both paned with glass and fortified with thick bronze bars. A large double door made out of sturdy oak barred the entrance, although one-half of it was open to let visitors in.
Two Herhors stood outside, one male standing upright and ready, and a woman lounged against the wall while looking at the street. However, both guards, even though they looked relaxed, appeared to be paying close attention to their surroundings, eyeing them curiously when they walked past them into the building. Ayuen noticed a glimmer of recognition in the gaze of one of them,
Inside, the building’s theme of function over form continued. There were but a few windows and the windows that were present were situated away from the counter and the stairs to the other levels of the complex. Further in, bullseye lanterns provided the majority of the lighting, directing beams towards the desks where needed, while normal lanterns provided more soft general lighting. The floor was made out of simple yet functional granite slabs, which Ayuen guessed were most likely mined from the mountains to the north of Herhor’s End. The fact that there were a lot of merchants travelling through this town must mean it had a relatively cheap supply of good materials. What was good for the safety of the town was good for the local merchants, after all. Symbiosis at its best.
Halfway through the room, there was a low stone wall put in place, behind which a few desks stood. There, Ayuen could see employees doing paperwork and helping people with questions and assignments. To the side, a massive wooden bulletin board hung on the wall, attached to which was a swarm of small parchment strips. Taking a closer look, she could see they were mostly requests for assistance of a physical nature. Guard work for caravans going to and from Handport, exploration, that sort of thing. Some of them were of a more inherently violent nature, and the Pyrn woman caught a glimpse of one that talked about dispatching certain bandit groups in the area.
As much as she wanted to take a closer look, Rove wasn’t interested in the bulletin board, ignoring it completely in favour of one of the desks. There was a small line but the clerk was efficient so they didn’t have to wait long before it was their turn. The visitor in front of them took longer though, a Human woman throwing a tantrum. Something about being cheated, the mercs she hired having taken their payment after she broke her contract halfway through. The clerk wasn’t having any of it, as it was clearly her fault for violating the contract, to begin with.
Ayuen glanced at Rove, who was focused on the spat. She suddenly was glad she’d been able to patch things up with him.
A minute and some rather, frankly embarrassing, loud shouting later the woman finally took her leave, her face red. The clerk, a Lon man, looked at her back and waved her goodbye.
“Come again, miss. We’ll be glad to help you with further problems.”
The sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice, and Ayuen could help but chuckle a bit as she turned away to hide her smile. She didn’t know the full story and the details, but she did know that showing your emotions like this in a public place wasn’t the best of ideas if you wanted to be taken seriously. It had been the same back in Marlight. She glanced at Rove, curious what his reaction to this whole situation was.
In stark contrast to her own, Rove did not chuckle or laugh, but he gave the fleeing woman a foul and disgusted look. If looks could kill, the woman would’ve been meeting her ancestors at this very moment. Shaking his head, he turned to the Lon and nodded briskly. The Lon’s grin faded away slowly as he examined Rove.
“What can I do for you? If you need any assignments, pal, you better check the board.”
Rove then leaned forwards, softly whispering into the man’s ear. The Lon nodded once, and then looked at the Herhor suspiciously. Ayuen’s ears perked up, even her enhanced hearing unable to pick up the words due to all the noise around them.
“And why would I tell you that?” The clerk answered out loud.
More whispers followed, more furiously this time, and the Lon started to whisper back in a muted tone of voice. For a minute or two, Ayuen listened to the two men’s hushed bickering, partly amused, party annoyed, rolling her eyes while folding her arms underneath her bust while she waited.
“… Now listen, right here, you p-...” Rove whispered, his voice getting louder so she could hear it clearly, before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. This wasn’t going in the right direction by the looks of it. The clerk’s face became more and more stubborn too. Guess she wasn’t the only one that Rove managed to rub the wrong way. Glad she wasn’t the only one having a stubborn Herhor problem.
Sighing, Ayuen decided it was time for her to step in and take control of this situation. The Pyrn took a step forward and laid a soft hand on Rove’s arm. The man glanced back at her, his cheeks red with frustration. Short fuse, short temper. Not a good thing when dealing with clerks just doing their jobs.
She raised an eyebrow at him and stared him right in the eyes, tapping two fingers of her other hand against her chest. Opening his mouth, it appeared that he wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth again without uttering a word, nodding slowly. He then stepped away, allowing her to speak to the man herself.
“Excuse my bodyguard’s rough demeanour, kind sir.” She spoke up, putting up her most stunning smile at the clerk. “I’m afraid he doesn’t know how to speak to hardworking citizens like yourself. You’re only doing your work of course.”
First, apologize. Then continue to some compliments, and see if that changes anything.
The clerk gave Rove one last sour look before fixing his eyes on her, nodding in agreement with her.
“Damn straight! You ought to keep a tighter leash on your dog, missy.”
She tilted her head apologetically for a moment, after which she looked him right in the eyes. The lack of returned respect in the conversation stung her a little, but Rove had been a good practice tool for ignoring that sort of disrespectful behaviour. She wasn’t going to stoop to his level.
“I certainly will, sir. You’ve let me see the errors of my ways. However, as much as I loathe to ask you this, I do need the information my foolish Herhor here just requested.”
“Afraid I cannot do that just straight off, miss. You need a written form for that request. Paperwork and all of that.”
Ah, there we go. The information she needed. Ayuen tilted her head a bit to the right, touching her lower lips with an index finger while she thought to herself. Or appeared to think anyway. She made sure she used her free hand to tuck some hair behind her ear too. By the look on the clerk’s face, her ploy worked quite well. She could see his eyes wander. Good. Very good.
“So, for this time only, would it be alright if I wrote up a form here quickly? I can have it done within the minute, with your express permission, of course.” The last couple of words were accompanied by a small bow of respect for the man on the other side of the desk.
The clerk looked at her for a good moment or two, the doubt in his eyes making her doubt the effectiveness of her ploy. But soon enough, the look on his face shifted to one of surrender and he eventually nodded slowly. Mumbling something about it being the first time he got appreciated on this pesky job, he gave her a form.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll have this done as fast as my capabilities allow.”
“Just... get it over with, miss. Quickly, I don’t want my boss to notice.”
Her eyes shifted to the form. Which was, in all honesty, as barebones a form as she’d ever seen. Paperwork had a different meaning out here, it would seem. Taking a quill and a vial of ink out of her bag, she quickly filled in the form with her neat and curvy handwriting. Herhor Koran. Patched up by the Healer, Triëste.
She passed the form to Rove, who scribbled the requested information on the paper. Trïeste’s name. Ah, a background check. Cheeky Herhor wanted to be sure.
After looking at her bodyguard with an amused expression, her signature went on the bottom end of the form, to verify that the exchange happened. When she laid down her quill, just slightly more than a minute had passed. A shame, it would’ve been quite amusing if she’d managed in a minute. She couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at the thought of a stunned clerk as she handed back the form.
“Here you go, sir. Where would I have to look to get the information I requested on there?”
Instead of answering directly, the man grunted something, standing up from his chair.
“Wait here.”
Her face going slightly more serious again, she just nodded to the man as he turned away and headed into what she assumed to be the record room of the office. As she was waiting, she drummed her fingers on the wooden counter, casting a glance towards the Herhor next to her. Rove was accusing the wall of some serious crime, going by the grumpy look he cast towards it as he avoided her eyes.
A good two minutes later, a soft stream of muttering signified the clerk’s return and he slapped a couple of notes on the counter in front of her.
“Here you go, and now scram, yes?” The voice didn’t leave much room for choice. Not a reason to go all impolite though.
“Much obliged, sir.”
No reason not to stay polite after all. With a courteous nod, she quickly tugged on Rove’s sleeve and made her way to a less crowded portion of the hall. Looking over his shoulder, Rove gave the clerk one more death stare before joining Ayuen.
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“Bloody desk people and their papers... With their roundabout pile of crap…” Ayuen heard the Herhor muttering beside her, the man shaking his head and turning towards her before continuing. His eyes shimmered with a mixture of reluctant admiration and curiosity, making the Pyrn poet feel rather good about herself.
“What kind of info did you get?” He asked gruffly.
“Just about to look into it, sir Rove.” She said triumphantly while raising a cheeky brow at him. Only rubbing it in a little was okay… right?
“And language. Those sorts of words do not get you that far, here.”
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To her mirth, the Herhor just gave her a nasty look but kept his mouth shut, folding his arms over each other and just waiting for an answer instead of verbally sparring with her.
Nodding contently, she folded open the notes the clerk gave her and quickly read through their contents. The words written lured a short huff out of her. The notes were basic and barebones, containing nothing that would warrant the secrecy the clerk had displayed. But the scribblings did cover what they needed to know. Triëst had indeed been helping a Herhor called Koran, and it was indeed verified to be a leg injury. Plus, it listed her profiency in healing as extraordinary. She passed the notes to the Herhor, with him also quickly scanning through them and grunting shortly. It sounded somewhere in between disappointment and approval.
“Looks somewhat in order. Guess the girl wasn’t bluffing to get in our good graces.”
“Of course, she wasn’t. Otherwise, either one of us would’ve noticed it.” Ayuen retorted rather calmly. Of course, Trïeste wouldn’t have been bluffing. She’d been on the verge of being beaten up or worse by random thugs in the streets. Horrific stuff.
“You should aspire to be more trusty towards good folk, sir Herhor. Not everybody here is out to assassinate us. I will admit we need to tread carefully and keep a low profile as much as we can. But loosen up! Have some fun. You’re travelling with a pretty lady after all.”
“Well, guess we can agree on at least one thing.” With a sigh, he gave her the notes back, which he stowed safely away in her bag. Ayuen grinned mischievously. He was trying to be vague. How cute.
“So, where do we meet the girl anyway?” The man continued, momentarily looking away as Ayuen’s grin grew. Guess she had something to press about later on. For now, she was content letting him simmer a bit.
“Right.” She started. “So Trïeste is staying in an inn not too far away from our own accommodations. A slightly more rundown establishment, called ‘The Severed Ear’. Bit of a mildly cringe-worthy name, but who am I to judge? Let’s get moving, sir Rove.”
Even though she didn’t show it on the surface, she was quite giddy inside. She’d have another woman to travel with! A kindred soul! Just the thing she needed to get through this journey without Rove driving her to the edges of insanity. Or her driving Rove to insanity.
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The pair of them leisurely made their way towards the Severed Ear, situated near the central square of the small town. Unlike the Green Apples in a Basket or just Green Apples for short in her mind, the Severed Ear was indeed rather rundown. The sign, depicting an ear with blood dripping from it, was weathered down almost beyond recognition. The red of the blood almost blended in with the dark brown of the wood, and the ear was more like a pinkish blob than anything else. The building itself was fully made of dark mudstained oak, and the door creaked loudly every time somebody entered or left. The structure itself seemed sturdy enough, even if it was in quite a neglected state. Plenty of patrons entered and left, so business didn’t seem that bad for the owners. Made one wonder why they didn’t invest in some refurbishing.
Ayuen stopped in front of the door, squinting at the sign to decipher whatever was drawn on it, quirking an eyebrow at the door. Why did Trïeste choose such a macabre-sounding place? She should ask her while she was here.
“Well, this should be the right address. I should remember to ask Trïeste about her taste in taverns.” Ayuen frowned as her nose crinkled.
“Yet another thing we can agree on.” Rove returned dryly. “It doesn’t need to get any crazier than this. I’ll go first, see if there are any… ‘less-than-good-folk’ in there that are keen to stir up trouble.”
The Herhor walked past her, lightly pushing her aside with his shoulder and opened the door before heading inside. Shaking her head but unable to disapprove of his assessment, Ayuen followed him inside after a moment or two, pulling her hood further over her head. Once the Pyrn poet entered the inn, she could see that the interior of the Inn perfectly matched its façade. The light here was dim at best, with groups of people sitting and gossiping in corners where the light didn’t reach. It smelled like smoke and the sourness of stale beer. A soft buzz of conversation wafted through the common room, temporarily quieting when she and Rove entered before picking up again. She felt cold dead eyes locking on her form. Silently judging her, weighing her worth. Even in a town like this, meant to provide a safe crossing from one side of the Shieldhead Woods to the other, they had shady inns. Well, of course, they did. It just wouldn’t make sense for everybody on this island to be loyal bodyguards. She already saw that with Trïeste’s attackers. You always had your riff-raff.
Ayuen couldn’t stop a shiver rolling down her spine, letting her wings quiver softly beneath her cloak. She tugged the warm safe fabric a bit tighter around herself as if the cloak were a shield that could deflect the gazes that currently clung to her. Almost like leeches on a helpless victim. Rove didn’t seem to be phased at all, however. She suddenly was very glad he was with her. With a couple of quick steps, she made sure she stayed as close to the Herhor as she could without seeming too clingy.
Skittishly, the poet looked around if she could see the herbalist girl. At first glance, she did not, but then she noticed a cloaked figure at the bar waving to her. A feminine hand stuck out of the sleeve of a dark brown robe-like garment, but the face was mostly covered, leaving just a quirky smile lurking from underneath the hood. Two points underneath the fabric hinted at two tufts on their ears. A Vysari. A large mug of something stood next to her on the bar top.
Ayuen smiled to herself. Clever, out of sight, out of mind. The people here seemed to keep mostly to themselves, but she assumed that they’d move if the opportunity presented itself. If she didn’t have Rove with her, they might’ve moved. Guess she had a lesson to take at heart.
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Returning the greeting with a wave of her own, she and Rove made their way towards her. They both took a seat at the bar next to her, with Rove sitting on Trïeste’s left and Ayuen settled down to her right. The barman gave them a look, with his gaze lingering on Rove for a bit before returning to cleaning the arrays of dusty and cracked glasses sitting behind the counter.
As soon as she sat down, Trïeste gave the poet a cheerful grin from under her hood, lifting it a bit. The young woman turned to Rove and judging by the Herhor’s raised eyebrow and sigh, she had given him a smug smile.
“Not so naïve after all now, am I hhmm?” Trïeste said with a proud edge to her voice, taking a big sip of her drink. “I know a bit about handling myself around these parts, y’know. Have to be, if y’want to survive here.”
Ayuen couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the tone of voice and the casual demeanour of the woman.
“I wasn’t the one who took your naivety into question, Trïeste. That was all sir Rove here.”
The Herhor huffed at that, locking eyes with the barkeeper and nodding to the tap. The man nodded back and took a mug out from under the bar, filling it up and handing it to the Herhor. A few coins exchanged hands, and that was it. No words, just gestures. Ayuen viewed it with some amazement. How could Rove be so skilled in dealing with these sorts of people and not with anyone a bit of class to them like herself? The answer to that question continued to elude her.
Blinking, she noticed she was staring at Rove. Worse still, Trïeste was looking right at her, one corner of her lip curled up slightly in a sly smile. When Ayuen questioningly tilted her head at the young healer, the smile turned into a grin.
“Oh, don’t worry, miss Ayuen. He might not be my type, but I can see why women would fancy a guy such as him. Mhm, for sure.”
At this, Rove’s ale appeared to take the wrong path at the crossing, heading straight for his lungs instead of his stomach, causing him to let out a stream of coughs and hacks. The Pyrn felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, undoubtedly making them warm and red.
“I’m afraid we’re not involved in anything romantic.” She managed to calmly say despite her otherwise obvious embarrassment.
“Indeed, by Legria’s bloody tits, we’re not.” Rove vehemently chimed in with her in agreement. “Why the blazes would I have that sort of... bond with that woman?”
Even though the feeling was somewhat mutual, having somebody reject you that hard still stung a little. Ayuen shot an unamused stare at Rove before continuing.
“Uncalled for, I’d say, Herhor Rove.” She huffed, pursing her lips as she turned her head. “Please behave yourself.”
A cough or two more, after which the Herhor just huffed once more and continued drinking. She cleared her throat a bit before she continued.
“At any rate, where did we digress? Ah, I remember. Your perceived naivety. Don’t you fret about that, you’ve proven Rove wrong. I for one would be happy to have you as our companion.”
Trïeste face lit up and her mouth opened enthusiastically to say her thanks. Ayuen stopped her with a raised hand though, shaking her head with a smile on her face. They didn’t know what she could do in detail. The Herhor was right about one thing. More information was needed on this young woman’s abilities.
“However, before we can allow you into our group on a more official basis, we need to know what your exact capabilities are. You said you were a healer yesterday. Please, do elaborate.”
Disappointment flashes across the young Visari’s face for a moment, but with a shake of her head and brown hair flying all around her face, she seemed to reignite her spirit again. Such vitality, such optimism, such resolve. Quite the impressive display around these parts.
“Right!” Trïeste said, shifting a bit in her seat as if she was bracing for a tough fight instead of a job interview. “I’ve mostly done my healing with herbal medicine and alchemy. Can brew up some nice mixtures that will close a wound within a couple o’ hours. And if that isn’t enough, I know a bit of Beacon magic as well. Y’know, to assist the herbs with doing their jobs. With those two combined...” She puffed out her chest and her ears twitched a bit, swirling the tufts of fur on top of them around. “...there’s is nothin’ I cannot heal! No wound is too difficult for my needle and thread. Except for a severed hand... or arm… or head. Can’t sew that back on, I’m afraid.”
The self-proclaimed alchemist chuckled at her joke.
“Especially the head. So I hope y’not missing any.”
Ayuen chuckled with her and Trïeste seemed to relax a bit. “Not that I’m aware, miss Trïeste.”
“Oh please, just call me Trïeste. Too young for a miss.”
“Very well, Trïeste then. Which reminds me. How old are you? Rove and I would like to know a bit more about your background.”
Trïeste sat more upright again.
“Yes, miss Ayuen. My name is Trïeste. Just Trïeste, no last name. I’m twenty years old, a Visari, and I hail from the village of Hammerport, down south of here.” The young woman’s voice changed to a more businesslike sort of tone, but still rather laid-back. Ayuen found herself giving her a nod of approval and gestured so that she might continue. Which Triëste did, after a brief pause.
“Learned my craft there as well, at a local trader’s house. Hammerport is not as big as Handport, y’see, but it’s still reasonably sized. Traders use the port there if they feel a bit more peace is required.” She explained. “Also some of the traders that make port at Hammerport have a lot of… how do they call it?” The girl paused a moment to think. “... you know... Things that go bad?”
The girl wasn’t that proficient with the less common words, it would seem. Ayuen made a mental note that she’d teach Triëste a bit about how to enlarge her vocabulary. Would give her something to do on the journey too. Better than arguing with Rove all the time.
“Perishable goods, you mean?” The cloaked Pyrn woman corrected. “Like fish, grains and other such foods?”
Triëste’s head almost seemed to vibrate off her neck with the speed she was nodding.
“Exactly! Those goods must be taken care of nice and fast. There are quite a lot of farmers to the north of here, but barely any cattle. Just a whole lot of corn and wheat. So most meat here comes from the mainland.” To Ayuen’s amusement, she scrounged up her nose a bit. “Mostly salted meats though, not the nice and juicy kind. ”
As she rattled off her story, Triëste tongue appeared to get caught in her throat. She coughed a couple of times, taking a quick couple of sips of water to get her mouth back in talking order. The girl seemed bubbly and cheerful. They were getting some eyes due to that, but Rove’s glares seemed to keep the more shadowy patrons at bay.
“So yeah, I’ve learned a bit from the traders there.” Trïeste continued. “And most of the ships have a Spellguide on board, just in case anyone gets hurt. So when I was little, I used to beg them to teach me a bit, and so they did. Some of them did. Most just kicked me off their boat.”
The young woman shrugged before continuing. “Somewhat the same sorta deal with my alchemical training. Picked it up from here and there. But I got pretty damn good at it. Lots of practice makes lots of perfect.” Trïeste's grin reemerged. “Visitors liked to say I got a gift for all that kinda mixy stuff. Heh.”
“Mhmm.” Ayuen liked what she heard. A proper Spellguide would be a great boon, especially if she was an alchemist as well. Raising a hand to carefully place a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, the Pyrn shot a glance at Rove. Their eyes met and the Herhor shook his head sterly, the man speaking up after shooting another glare behind him.
“Okay, listen.” He began talking to her and Trïeste, shifting his gaze between the two of them. “I am willing to believe you’re good at what you do, maybe even expertly so, bu-“
“Oh, but I’m the best y’re gonna find, sir Rove.” Trïeste interrupted him enthusiastically. “Nobody else here can do bo-…”
BAM! The Herhor smashed a fist on the table, shutting up Trïeste immediately and drawing quite some more annoyed gazes from the patrons around them. Rove didn’t seem to pay them any mind this time around, his face neutral and eyes locked onto Trïeste. The poor girl's cheeks drained of colour, and she seemed more like a frightened hare finding itself in front of a wolf.
“And this is why I’m against you joining, girl.” Her bodyguard continued, the man putting great emphasis on the last word. “No discipline and your... survival instincts seem iffy at best.”
Trïeste slowly nodded, saying nothing and just looking at Rove with an unsure look on her face.
Then, without warning, Rove’s shoulders slumped and he grunted, rubbing an eye.
“However... I think you’re right about one thing. You’re the best healer we are going to find. The reports we got from the office said you were fantastic. So yeah, I’d be willing to let you join. Necessity knows no law.”
Trïeste cheeks had their colour returned and the young woman opened her mouth to say something, undoubtedly her overenthusiastic thanks. However, she was cut off by a hard glare from Rove and she clapped her jaws back together with a loud thud.
“However, I’ve got one condition. You get that enthusiasm and springiness of your under control. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” She said, calmly this time. Still, her eyes glimmered with excitement and life, her muscles tensing. Averting her face a bit, Ayuen hid a small smile. Sometimes, just sometimes, the Herhor showed what lurked beneath his tough bronze-plated exterior. If he just showed it more often, she’d like that quite a bit...
Rove focussed back on her and nodded, jutting a thumb towards the exit. Returning the nod, Ayuen extended a hand towards Trïeste.
“That settles it then! Trïeste, I’d like to formally welcome you to our companionship. Glad to have you on board.”
The young woman’s grin made one last appearance, growing until she glanced at Rove. She took Ayuen’s hand and shook it fervently.
“Glad to be part of your band, miss Ayuen. I’ll be sure to repay the favour and do my best!”
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