Rove
Tinkersong, The Grasping Isle
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/876104022833127448/1082719002108899378/SD5.png]
Art by Fantastical, Fantastical Art Licence
What he heard made him smile and a shot of relief shot through his stomach. As he had anticipated, some rumours had indeed started to spread, but nobody knew what the ruckus had been about. Wild theories were doing the rounds, the next even wilder than the ones before. A merchant testing out some newly made fireworks. A mythical Bovnaz enacting revenge upon a hapless victim. A Gaoler’s magical experiment gone wrong.
Looking at the stairs, he chuckled at the amusing thought of Ayuen trying to experiment and getting that elegant hairdo all singed and puffy.
All in all, it was rather relaxing sitting in an establishment like this. Sipping from his ale, Rove took out the symbol he took from one of Sneak’s assailants. A spear, with a white feathered wing on the end of its shaft. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. He’s seen this symbol before. The bandits he had encountered with old man Bren. Guess they had been merely masquerading as bandits. It did explain quite a bit though. The skill possessed by their attackers, the decline of bandit activity in the region, and the lack of work for local Herhors. If these people had been searching for a woman hidden away, the regions south of the Shieldhead Woods would’ve been a good place to look. Small groups of ill-equipped, ragtag bandits wouldn’t have stood a chance against the newcomers.
He toyed with the symbol in his hand for a bit, thinking about the whole situation. Their group had outrun Prado’s men effectively, but now these winged Yrus had been able to catch up. The big mystery was their communication though. Most likely, the people he now dubbed ‘the Spears’ were not in contact with Prado. Yet they had been able to locate them and begin putting pressure on them.
How did they figure out where they had been? After all, they’d spent almost five days in a dusty bunch of ruins. It wasn’t as if they had announced their presence here in town, although they hadn’t been overly cautious. Still, it was just all too quick. Too suspicious. It felt like the enemy was one step ahead of them the entire time. And even though they had managed to scrape by by the skin of their teeth, he wasn’t sure how long their fortune would last. There was only so much even magical armaments could do against enough manpower. His fist tightened around the piece of cloth. If only the opposition would be as easily crushed as this symbol in his hand. He’d signed up for a regular escort mission, but it had spiralled way out of control. It was personal now.
A sliver of doubt snuck into his mind and he shot a glance towards the stairs. He could break the contract. Flee the area and lay low for a while. Rove grumbled, the doubt quickly replaced by disgust. His fist tightened, his nails drawing blood from his palm. Did he ever turn down or fail a contract? No, he did not. Not after that bloody previous failure. Not again, never again.
The pain that shot through his hands dispelled his doubts. Whoever was following Ayuen and was using this symbol had dragged his personal life into this. Even if he would break the contract, his wretched mother and the rest of his family knew where he was living. No choice but to see this through until the end. Plus... well... His eyes went to the stairs again, thinking about the Pyrn resting in the room above. Sighing, he looked into his mug of beer. Bloody hell.
With his free hand, Rove took out Ayuen’s contract and looked it over. Scribblings on a piece of parchment and promises put on paper. The things that had proved to be the basis of his life for a good decade.
Realization struck him slowly, like a glacier advancing down a mountain. Reputation, contracts, pride. All things he held as being important in his life. But when push came to shove, how much did they matter? Were they as important as he had thought they’d be? The bronze of his sister’s locket around his neck pressed coldly against his chest. Did the Herhor life make him lose sight of what was truly important?
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
His thoughts drifted to Mira and the few people he’d loved in the time he had been stuck in the dreaded Tyheart mansion. Thinking about Skarin the sword teacher, and Tres the stablemaster. Although it had been a painful time, he hadn’t been alone.
His eyes wandered toward the stairs again. He wasn’t alone now either. Despite his best efforts to keep things formal, he realized now that he’d grown fond of his companions. Trïeste’s enthusiasm and cheerfulness, Ayuen’s kindness, intelligence, and guts. Even her naivety was strangely endearing. A slight blush washed over his face when the image of her standing on the Clasp’s bank without any clothes on appeared before his mind’s eye. Although it was a rather unprofessional sentiment, Ayuen was far from unattractive. The ears and fur provided her well-shaped body with an exotic flare, and the wings that sprang from her shoulders gave her a strange grace and elegance. And going by the looks she’d been giving him, he was rather sure she was also enjoying herself...
Shaking his head, he took another big swig from his ale, barely keeping himself from coughing again. What the hell was he thinking? Ayuen was his client! He eyed the contract once more, a mixture of wants and doubts in his stomach. Was she still his client? He’d gotten her to her destination, the Clasp’s Spring. The contract was done and void. Wouldn’t that mean?...
A smile crept over his face as he slowly closed his hand, crumpling up the contract into a small ball. He put the ball of paper into his pocket as he raised his tankard towards the stairs.
“Ayuen, Trïeste. Here’s to you. Cheers.” He muttered to himself, chuckling a little bit afterwards. From now on, he would travel with them on his own terms. The client’s enemies had made this whole matter personal, so they could be damn sure he’d take it personally.
“Damn you, mother,” Rove whispered to himself, silently bringing up memories that had long been buried. “Damn you and your ambitions. The day that I will be able to ram my blade through your throat will be the happiest day of my life. For Dad’s sake too.”
He raised his tankard, towards the tavern’s ceiling this time.
”Here’s to you, pops.”
With one huge gulp, he then poured the bitter brew down his throat as several emotions ran through him. Sadness, anger and frustration, but also hope and excitement. Hiding a big burp behind his fist, he stood up from his chair and put the tankard on the bartop with a loud thud.
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The few bar patrons that were still around at this hour turned to him and drunkenly waved their tankards at him. He waved back and ignored their nonverbal invitation, stepping in the direction of the stairs. One of the patrons, a young and shapely Vysari woman, quickly stepped towards him. She managed to cling to his sleeve with a slender yet strong hand. Rove grunted, looking at her with a raised brow. Damn it, why now? He just wanted to go to bed. And he wasn’t very good in handling women or cheerful people that weren’t warriors.
“Sir Herhor, wouldn’t you keep me and my friends company for the night?” The woman whispered seductively against his ear, her lips brushing against his skin. One glance down showed she was puffing her chest while she pressed herself against his arm, blinking her eyes flirtatiously. She was a rather small woman, so he had a pretty good view of her assets. Which was not a bad view at all, if he was being honest. She was quite fit too by the looks of it. If this had been another night before he’d left on his journey, he’d happily taken her up on the offer. But things were different now. The Herhor smiled softly at her, dislodging her hands gently and shaking his head.
“Sorry, but no. Afraid I’m not in the mood to cuddle and make out with a drunk woman. Once you’ve put down those beer goggles, you should try again with a different man that’s more to your real tastes.”
The woman pouted up at him, giving him her best impression of puppy eyes.
“But sir, I only had a small cup to drink. My eyes work...” She traced an appreciative glance over his form. “... just fine. Let me show you and I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”
Although her voice was firm, her red cheeks and the smell of liquor coming out of her mouth told a whole different story to what she was saying. Gently but firmly, he put his hands on her shoulder and pushed her away, the woman yelping when she almost lost her balance from the movement.
“No.” He raised his voice just a little. Enough to get the message across, but not in an overly angry manner. Remembering how Ayuen had spoken and dealt with fellow travellers, he tried to copy her best he could. It felt a bit off, but it was better than a shouting match.
“Go back to your friends and drink a bit more. But leave the seduction and sex for when you’re sober. It’s more enjoyable and safe when you’re not shit-faced, I can tell you from experience. Plus, you are sexy enough to snag a good man easily.”
The woman looked at him with big eyes while he could practically see the gears turning in her head, hampered by copious amounts of booze. Slowly, she nodded and went back to her table. Almost immediately, her fellows started hearing her out while he made his way upstairs. The woman stared after him until she disappeared from view. Well, time to hit the sack and prepare for tomorrow. Only the Arals knew what place Ayuen wanted to travel to. Probably needed his wits about him.
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