Ayuen
Maiden's Vale, The Grasping Isle
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/926707024362885130/1045841100604186624/Ayuen-WayX.png]The rest of the journey to Maiden’s Vale was quite pleasant, with the three of them enjoying a good warm fire the night before they arrived in their next speck of civilization. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen, and they found themselves travelling along the coast of the Maiden’s Mirror, a huge lake along which Maiden’s Vale was situated. The sun’s rays softly kissed the surface of the lake, making it shimmer and glitter, and all kinds of birds could be seen scurrying about at the water's edge going about their daily business.
As a result of this change in atmosphere, they were all in high spirits, with Ayuen and Trïeste chatting merrily and casually while trotting along on the dirt road that snaking along the coast of the Maiden’s Mirror. Even Rove contributed to the conversation every once in a while, from sly remarks to small but useful insights into how the Herhor community functioned. The adherence to contracts, and the sense of companionship and friendship between them. The warrior told her it was necessary for a rough environment like the Isle. Even with the amount of work dwindling as of late, they still tried to get by without rubbing each other the wrong way. According to Rove, their ability to band together when needed and to adapt to every danger the Isle could throw at them was one of their greatest strengths. Of course, there were Herhors that didn’t see things that way. You always had detractors, loners and greedy individuals.
Trïeste wasn’t going to take Rove’s story-telling laying down though. She conjured up stories about the harbour life. Gesturing enthusiastically, she spoke about the merchants she met, hailing from as far as the country of Babtos on the far western side of the continent. They often brought strange exotic goods, from silvery sturdy metals to fabrics that felt almost fluid when touched.
Ayuen scribbled the interesting parts down while listening intently and occasionally nodding. More inspiration was always useful in case she would have some time to jot down some poems.
When both Trïeste and Rove were done with their stories, they both looked intently at Ayuen, who was riding behind them. Ayuen rolled her eyes with a smile and started telling about Marlight, more and more passion creeping into her voice as more memories ran through her mind as she told her stories. She spoke of the plethora of races inhabiting the city, like the insectoid Iruk to the feathered Yrus to the blind serpentine Prevaz.
Trïeste hung on her lips while Rove’s expression was getting closer and closer to total disbelief. She suddenly remembered that this island was somewhat isolated and magically touched people like hers were rarer here. His expression brought a smile to her face, finding it strangely adorable.
“All of those races sound like they come straight from one of those poems or fairytales you write down in that book of yours.” He said, shaking his head and giving a tug on the reigns of his steed. The animal had seen the chance to try and snag some grass from the side of the road, and it whinnied disappointed when it got redirected to the road.
“Like, blind people with the lower body of a serpent? Sounds rather hard to believe.” His hand made a snaking movement, the man hissing before chuckling.
Ayuen let out a huff.
“Okay, so let me verify this, sir Rove. You’re hard-pressed to believe a Prevaz can exist, even after seeing my form with its wings and fur? I’m rather different than a human too, right?”
To her delight, Rove seemed to be taken aback by the comment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. Teaching him and surprising him was rather fulfilling, she found. Rove’s eyes narrowed and his lips were pursed, Ayuen thinking he might let it go. But to her astonishment, he instead slowed down so his horse ended up next to hers.
“Now look, miss Ayuen...” His tone was like one used to lecture a child. The Herhor gestured to Trïeste in front of them. “You have a normal body, alright? Like me and Trïeste. Arms, legs and...” He made a cupping gesture at his chest. “...breasts and all. You just have two extra appendages with your wings. But you’re saying there are beings in your city that have tails for legs and do not have eyes? That’s on a whole different level.”
“They do exist though, I assure you. I’m sure the traders here would have seen a couple. Their homeland is rather close to the Grasping Isle, all things considered.” Ayuen retorted patiently, keeping her tone free of laughter. Rove was making an honest attempt at conversation, she should respond in kind. “I know a couple of Prevaz. They’ve got the most lovely affinity for art. Their works are sublime. Their best weave words and form better than I ever could.” Her expression got sly as a thought came to her, thinking about Rove’s words. With a last mischievous glance, she raised an eyebrow, raised her nose in the air and spurred her horse, ending up beside Trïeste.
“Nice to know that you consider my breasts normal though. Very reassuring indeed.” He told the Herhor over her shoulder.
Trïeste let out a choking sound and immediately covered her mouth with a hand. The Vysari averted her eyes before looking at her with a neutral face once again, her eyes still sparkling with glee. The corners of the younger woman’s mouth were still pulled up slightly. Ayuen shot her a meaningful look and a raised eyebrow, making Trïeste focus back on the road.
A deep heavy sigh was uttered behind her, followed by Rove’s horse retorting with a whinny. Even the horse was agreeing with her. Hiding a grin, she rode onwards, enjoying the sun, the mountain, and the lake. Oh, how things could turn on a finger.
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How things could change on a finger indeed. As good as things had been on the road, it turned out the bad things were lurking at Maiden’s Vale itself. The town didn’t seem so bad at first. It was a decently sized town, lacking any significant walls due to the lack of bandits nearby. The southern edge was cleared of trees, however, making it very difficult to sneak up on the lake-bordering village. Housing here was quite luxurious as well, with well-built wooden houses being the style of choice here instead of the more practical stone buildings of Herhor’s End. The guards, in stark contrast to their colleagues at Tressin’s Pass, refused to allow them entry into the town for a good hour, questioning the three of them endlessly about their purpose. They quibbled and bartered, until Rove finally had enough. The man raised his voice, booming that they just had to get somebody from the ‘bloody Herhor’s guild’ to verify who they were. And for once she was totally on his side. There was only so much time she could waste writing in her notebook with the same view. Her inspiration was running dry. Talking to some random guards that made a problem over every darned minute little detail was not something she was keen on. Eventually, somebody from the Herhor’s office was summoned to sort this out. By the look on the woman’s face, you would think she had been made to shovel poop instead of simply verifying a Herhor. She gave the group an annoyed stare when she listened to her explanation. She seemed rushed, so much so that being polite wasn’t high on her priority list.
“So that’s our purpose in Maiden’s Vale.” Ayuen finally ended her explanation of their purpose in this town. “We’ll be out of anyone's hair swiftly and quietly be on our way north.”
“Right…” The woman responded dryly, after which glanced at a booklet in her hand and sighed. “Alright then, you can all come inside. But only because we have confirmed master Rove’s identity here, understood?” The woman then turned to Rove.
“They are your responsibility while you are here. Any disturbances caused by them will be your fault.”
“Yeah, sure, fine, whatever.” The Herhor bit back. “Just bloody let us inside. We’ll all behave ourselves.” Rove’s face turned red with annoyance and barely contained anger as he waved the warnings away. For a moment, that woman looked like she might turn them away still. But then she gave the guards the most minute of nods, after which she promptly turned around and headed back into the town without giving them a moment more of her attention. The guards grumbled a bit but moved aside, finally letting them into the town. The three of them quickly walked down the main street before they could change their mind. The roads of Maiden’s Vale were made out of high-quality stone, large pieces of granite as wide and long as her lower arm. She could see quite a few carts moving up and down the road and even more standing next to buildings, with workers either filling them up with goods or carrying them inside. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve gone and talked to a couple of the workers, but with the ‘warm’ welcome they’d been given, she decided against it. Her stories didn’t have room for people that could only think of distractions as lost business. So aggravating. Rove’s and Trïeste’s mood weren’t much warmer. The normally so chatty Trïeste was now silent, eyes focused on Rove’s back as the Herhor headed straight for the harbour. He had told her he’d been here before. Which begged the question...
“Rove,” She spoke up, frowning. “You’ve happened upon this village multiple times, correct? You seemed rather off-put by the guard’s unnecessary behaviour. Is it always like this?”
Rove didn’t answer immediately, shaking his head before glancing sideways at her.
“Gah, I have no idea what came over them. They’ve always been picky, sure. They’re merchants after all. But this is way out of line, even for them.”
“It was my understanding that you and your colleagues had quite a splendid relationship with traders.”
“We do... for the most part. It’s mostly the travelling ones we have the most contact with. But even so……”
Rove’s voice trailed off as Ayuen practically saw the thoughts running through his head, and the poet shifted her attention back to the town itself. Something had to have happened to make the people here a good bit more reserved. Couldn’t be bandits, or else they would’ve either encountered some or heard about them at Tressin’s Pass. Competition perhaps. Maybe they saw them as just another couple of souls to compete with. She couldn’t say for sure. She wasn’t a merchant, after all. Better to leave the tending of coins and goods to other people.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
It was a shame that the people here were acting so asinine, for Maiden’s Vale itself was quite the pretty place. To her right, at the end of a big sidestreet, she could see the harbour. A couple of small river vessels were tied vast next to the docks, bobbing on the gentle shimmering waves of the lake. Although she was far away, she could make out many people working, their dark silhouettes working like ants in their nest. After a short walk, the three of them came to a large triangular marketplace, lined with inns on the far side. Rove, the man still bound in thought, didn’t seem to notice.
“Rove, would you care to enlighten us about those inns over yonder and give us your recommendations?”
“Hhmm? What? Oh right.” He said absentmindedly, looking around in a somewhat disoriented fashion. The Herhor stood still for a couple of moments, looking at the different signs of the different establishments.
“I can’t say I’m overly familiar with the inns here.” He eventually said, turning to face her and Trïeste. “Last time I visited this place was a good year ago.” He smiled wryly. “Not much to do for most Herhors up here. But... That inn over there I stayed in before, should be sufficient for our needs.”
He pointed at an inn with a sign of an oak leaf on a red background hanging outside. Good enough for her. She was getting rather tired of this day anyway, and the sun was already beginning to set.
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What Ayuen hadn’t anticipated was that the worse part was yet to come. As soon as they walked in, the innkeeper approached them with an apologetic smile, saying that all his rooms were full. The place did look somewhat busy, but it was still a bummer. They shrugged it off and left for another tavern. However, the same thing happened there, and at the next one, and the next one. Even taverns whose common room seemed mostly empty claimed all of their rooms were taken. Rove’s face began to colour a deeper and deeper shade of red with each inn they visited, Trïeste started nervously finicking her clothes. Even Ayuen herself felt the enthusiasm slowly fade from her body, being replaced with a dull sullenness instead, supplemented by a pit of tiredness that was getting bigger by the minute. The last two inns they visited just outright send the bouncers after them. Rove had almost pulled his swords at this crude display, the man visible getting fed up and tired. Only some quick intervention from Trïeste had spared them more trouble as she almost pulled the furious Herhor out of the establishment. The Herhor lady at the gate had to have tipped them off, nobody seemed to want to have anything to do with them. So, after the seventh and last rejection, there were no taverns, inns, hostels or anything along those lines left.
As such, there was no choice but to camp just outside the village. Back into those damp tents. They led the horses to the grasslands southwest of the town and started putting up their little encampment. By this point, everybody was silent, annoyed and just plain tired. The sun had set quite a while ago and as such, they had to perch their tent by the light of the small campfire they managed to get going.
“Fuck, damn it, screw that bunch of horse-…” She heard Trïeste mutter softly, and the poet quirked an amused eyebrow at the stream of colourful insults that left the young woman’s mouth. Normally, she’d say something regarding it, make some sort of smart quip or joke. But her mind was not up for it. It did nothing else but repeat the word ‘sleep’ over and over again. Utterly tired, she crawled into her tent, her wings almost clipping on the thick fabric. She let herself fall onto her bedroll and as soon as she hit the soft fabric, her eyes closed. The bedroll almost seemed like a silken bed at this point, and she was happy to be able to get some shut-eye. Blissful sleep after these last two awful hours. Tomorrow, they’d send Trïeste to get some basic supplies and leave as soon as they could. In a way, this was a good lesson. A bed in a tavern might be preferable to a bedroll, but a bedroll was heavily preferred above a bed in a town full of condescending idiots.
Mostly due to their tiredness, they all got a good amount of sleep that night. When they woke the morning after, the group cut their losses, and they decided to send Trïeste into town to get supplies. The Vysari woman was the most low-key of all of them and had the least chance to run into trouble with any innkeepers or guards that had a problem with them.
Their plan seemed to work for once. A small hour later, a packed Trïeste arrived back at the camp, the two of them had folded the tents and prepared the horses. When she opened Trïeste’s pack, she was pleased by the sight, to say the least. She was almost squealing at the sight of fresh bread and dried meats. She even got her hand on a nice amount of dried fruits. Oh, fruits. Nice, sweet fruits. Didn’t matter that they were dried, they would have something sweet for during the journey now. It almost made up for yesterday’s catastrophe. Almost.
So, with nothing else to do in Maiden’s Vale, they headed north, journeying towards their goal. The sun shone its warm rays upon them and Ayuen quickly forgot her prior misfortune. It was rather quiet too, with no merchants in sight on the road.
While she absentmindedly gazed over the shimmering waters of the Maiden’s Mirror, her hand wandered to the amulet around her neck. She was getting so close to her goal now. Under the tip of her fingers, she felt the inscription on the trinket’s rim.
‘Where the dark waters that clamp onto the rock's surface form from the darkness, you will find the key to the dawn.’
She hadn’t given much attention to the amulet and its meaning as of late. Not since she had her argument with Rove. According to all the scrolls she’d read and the stories she’d searched through in Handport, the Clasp’s Spring was the place to be according to the amulet. The fist and the mountain, the Grasping Island holding its own in the waves. Despite all of that though, there was still a glimmer of doubt gnawing at her insides, like a mouse silently eating at the miller’s grain in the night.
“So… Rove.” She spoke up hesitantly while they were riding steadily through the increasingly mountainous landscape. “This will be the final stretch before we at long last reach the Clasp’s Spring. I was wondering if there would be another settlement we would pass on the way there.”
Looking over his shoulder, Rove nodded. His face seemed calmer and relaxed than when they left this morning. She wasn’t the only one that was enjoying the weather, it seemed.
“Near the Clasp’s Spring, there is a small miner’s town called Tinker’s Song.” The Herhor answered. “Nothing much in the way of inns, shops or anything of that sort. Been there myself, but only once, with old man Brenstead.”
“Brenstead?”
“Hhmm. One of my clients. An old fox of a man that has traded here for as long as I can remember. Tough old bastard, that one.” The Herhor pointed at a bridge up ahead, barely visible due to the hills and mountains surrounding it.
“Up ahead is Bren’s Bridge, named after him. One of the first traders that ventured north in search for ores.”
“Sounds like you are on quite good terms with one another.”
Rove chuckled, rolling his shoulders in a relaxed manner. As he stifled a yawn, Ayuen looked at him intently.
“Quite, yes. Me and old man Bren go way back. Good business for the both of us.”
Ayuen flashed a cheeky grin at him, leaning forward on her horse.
“I’m surprised you have any acquaintances who you talk so casually of. I was beginning to suspect that you might be somebody with no friends and only colleagues.”
“Of course I have friends,” Rove grumbled in return, rolling his eyes.
“Well, I’ve tried to act friendly to you, but you’re not reciprocating my intentions most of the time. You’re always so... grave.” This triggered a scoff from Rove.
“And because of that, you think I am incapable of having friends? Why thank you… I’m honoured.” The sarcasm in his voice was as thick as syrup, and Trïeste chuckled as she listened with that sly twinkle in her eye.
“You’re a client, not a friend.” Rove continued. “It’s business, miss Ayuen. Nothing personal.”
“What about me?” Trïeste chimed in, hopping a bit on her horse. That girl was enjoying herself too much, Ayuen thought to herself, somewhat amused by this little fencing match of words. Only slightly though, her mood and the general atmosphere were still nice and good.
“You?” Rove said, stroking his beard with a free hand in thought. “You’re not a client, are you? So you’re good. A potential contact even.”
“Aw, not a friend?”
“I mean... maybe?”
As the three of them bantered, Ayuen began to smile warmly at the sound of their voices, a soft feeling settling in her stomach.
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And so the three of them kept blathering on for a good chunk of time while the bridge slowly came into view. When they got closer to Bren’s Bridge, Ayuen finally got a better look at it. It was a broad and long bridge, made out of rough stone blocks. Little did she know though that their moments of casual banter had come to an end.
As they walked over to river crossing, a big group of people suddenly approached from the road ahead, approaching when they were just over half of the bridge’s length. At first, Ayuen didn’t think much of it. Probably a merchant caravan heading towards the south from Tinkersong. Rove peered through narrowed eyes though and grunted. He turned his horse around and started to gesture for both her and Trïeste to quickly follow. Worried, she glanced at the approaching group.
And then a glint of reflected light caught her eye, swiftly followed by another one. And another one. Bronze armor, the group all wearing the same type of gear. Oh, by the Arals, those were soldiers! A group of five soldiers approached them while they were turned around to retreat.
However, five more appeared from the bushes from behind, cutting off their escape route. Ayuen’s blood ran cold and her breath quickened. This day was rapidly turning out to be far worse than the prior one.
All except the mounted men were heavily armoured in bronze plate and mail, while the mounted soldiers were clad in studded leathers and gambesons. Large claymores and pikes stood at the ready in their hands. In total silence, the soldier walked towards the edges of the bridge and readied their weapons in perfect unison. These weren’t mercenaries, these were well-trained soldiers. Ayuen took a deep breath and looked at Rove.
“W-w-well, this sort of situation is more your forté. Any i-ideas?” Her voice shivered, even though she tried to keep up a brave front. But at least she was trying damn it.
“Heh.” The Herhor replied with a grimace. “A couple, let’s first se-….. Oh….. shit.” The Herhor’s face went bleak and white, his eyes wide. A weird sense of deja vu rolled over her. “This... this... this cannot be.” He stammered, totally flustered, his eyes widening beyond what she thought the Herhor to be capable of.
Ayuen followed his started gaze. A heavily armoured man stepped forward. His armour gleamed silvery and decorated with gold, as was his sword’s sheath and small buckler that he kept on his belt. Wait… She had seen this kind of silvery metal in Bris’ shop. He had been very proud to be able to show it to her. Steel, instead of the usual bronze. If forged properly and with care, it was many times stronger than bronze, even with the ways blacksmiths had come up with to make bronze more usable. The thing was… iron ore and thusly steel were rather rare commodities. Only affordable to rich families or the most skilled of soldiers in an army. Or both…..
The man stopped around five meters away from them. Both Ayuen and Trïeste had drawn their weapons at this point, not planning on getting captured without a fight. The man didn’t seem to take notice or care, his gaze solely focused on Rove. Ayuen noticed a difference in Rove’s demeanour. A mixture of dread and surprise.
Sighing, the armoured man scratched the side of his helmet with a gloved hand, as if he was thinking of what to do.
“When they told me you were involved, I didn’t believe it at first.” He said casually. His voice was deep and calm, somebody who was used to both giving orders and following them to the letter. A hum came from that armoured visage, followed by a sigh.
“Too bad that we had to have our reunion under these circumstances. But it has to be this way, doesn’t it?" The man chuckled.
"Dear brother of mine.”
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