Rove
Fool’s Point, The Grasping Isle
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Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story
For the next thirty minutes, the group hammered out the specifics of their upcoming journey. They would sail south upon Brenstead’s ship until they reached the halfway point of Dalen’s Demise, a marsh that covered most of the eastern coast of the island. After that, they would cross the Twisting Straight and head towards the coast of Enitul, the nation closest to the Grasping Isle. There, the ship would drop them off. Afterwards, they were to travel further inland and head east while the ship would continue south towards Skianz. According to Ayuen, they would have to travel inland for about two days, after which she would teleport them to Marlight by magic, or so she claimed.
The thought of finally leaving the Grasping Isle left Rove silent, calmly thinking about both the opportunities and dangers. The Grasping Isle was a frontier, which meant that news from the outside took a long time to reach. He was out of touch with the mainland, let alone the current situations in either Marlight or even Zavand. To his surprise, he didn’t feel annoyed to leave the place he called home for so many years. If he were to go alone, he would’ve been more averse to the idea. But with his companions having his back, he was confident they’d be able to make a dent in Siandra’s plans at the very least.
He was very relieved to have found Branstead and Mearn here though. Good thing Mearn had been so open with the specifics of her contract back in Handport. This was preferable to travelling back on foot through the Grey Crown and heading south. Goes to show that knowing the locals paid off.
Speaking of locals, the matter of what to do when they reached Marlight was briefly touched upon. The plan was deceptively simple. Their priority was heading towards Baros’ tomb and locating the deceased chieftain’s body. After he’d been revived by the Dawn, they would get him to testify against Siandra and have him rally the people and make them see the truth. He and Ayuen would be in charge of that. At the same time, Trïeste and Sneak would locate Trïeste’s mother and break her free from Siandra’s grasp together with other potential hostages so they couldn’t be used against them. And that would be it, with the ideal result being that everything would return to how it used to be. That’s what Ayuen said she hoped for anyway. Keeping things simple and flexible was their best bet. Their enemy was used to planning and scheming ahead. She’d be waiting, Rove was sure of that. The bitch even managed to contact his family and get his half-brother to the Grasping Isle within a timespan that should be impossible for normal folks to achieve. They had no way of knowing what Siandra would do in response to their plan. Keeping the plan open was best in this case.
Rove couldn’t wait until the tip of Stormgrinder rested on Siandra’s throat so he could ram the sword through her neck. His fists clenched. He hadn’t even seen her in person yet, but he could imagine her. Ugly and burned features, with haggard dirty feathered wings flapping behind her as an infuriatingly smug smile sat on that atrocious mug. Rove’s spotted Trïeste’s hands twitching and flicking to the dagger on her belt at the mention of Siandra’s name. Even Ayuen narrowed her eyes for a moment. Sneak was the only one that didn’t respond with silent smouldering anger, having been the only one that Siandra didn’t personally attack. Yet.
After they finalized their plan, it was time to rest. It would take Brenstead another day or two to stock up on supplies, so they would have some free time to lay back and do whatever they wanted to do in Fool’s Point. Rove for one was determined on taking refuge in one of the taverns at the water’s edge and get hammered. He made Mearn the offer to join him and reminisce about old times, knowing the talkative Herhor would be happy to oblidge. But to his shock, she refused, smiling a small knowing smile that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
About an hour later, he found himself in the common room of the largest, and frankly most decent, tavern in town. Most of ‘The Cleaned Fillet’s clientele were traders and the more wealthy of Herhors in the area. He didn’t recognize any of the patrons, which was unsurprising. Years of being away from this place would do that. The party had rented two rooms, one for Ayuen and him, and one for Trïeste and Sneak. To his chagrin, they were low on coin, making it so he couldn’t drink to his heart’s content. He had reluctantly agreed that it couldn’t hurt to be careful with the coin they still had in their pouches. He and Ayuen were sitting at the bar, the other two already having excused themselves to their room for the night. The beer was pretty good, some herby brew that the tavernkeeper said came from foreign lands. Ayuen had the same brew, opting for a slightly smaller pint. Sitting there, with the well-dressed and well-moustached keeper cleaning his glasses near them, the two of them amused themselves by looking at the patrons for a good while. Chuckling at wealthy merchants bartering and bickering, flicking the beads on their abacuses with exaggerated motions. Singing along with Herhors chanting cheerful songs about battle, lovers or both. Sceneries like this were soothing for the soul, Rove relishing in other people’s stupidies, bickerings and pleasures while enjoying a good beer. Even Ayuen couldn’t deny the atmosphere was nice and pleasant. She had even taken out her little booklet of notes and poems, scribbling down the whisps of song and cheering they could make out.
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“So, Rove.” She said, eyes on a particularly fat Lon trader that was bellowing and laughing in the corner together with his bodyguards. “You seem to be rather relaxed the last couple of days. Weeks even, if you don’t take our trip in the mist into account. Is it because you’re getting used to your companions?”
Rove grunted in his mug, taking a swig and putting it down on the bartop with a thud. He licked the beer from his lips, humming contently before answering. “Getting used to you three is a feat I won’t live long enough for. Liking you three, however... I think I can confidently say I do. Even Trïeste, after her little stunt. The company is quite refreshing.”
“Oh? You came to like our company?”
Her voice had a slight purr in it, the message between her words clear.
“Yeah. I enjoy your company.” He looked at her from the corner of his eyes.
“That’s what you want to hear, right?”
Maybe it was thanks to the pint of alcohol in his system, but he didn’t feel all that reserved about it.
The Pyrn woman next to him chuckled, putting down her mug on the counter as well. She cupped her cheek and leaned on the top, looking straight at him.
“Yeah, you caught on. I enjoy your company, Rove.” She cutely bit her lip, fluttering her eyelashes. However, he then saw worry flicker in her eyes, her expression changing to a more worried one.
“When we thought you’d lost to your brother, I was terrified.”
She then glanced angrily at him, eyes flaming. “And quite angry as well. Don’t do that ever again.”
“Oi, you agreed with it!” He looked at Ayuen, frowning.
“It’s not like I had the time to discuss it with you back there!”
“Even if we would’ve discussed it, the results would’ve been the same.”
“It’s not about that, you undignified donkey. I expect you to behave a little bit less like you have your proud brains shoved in between your buttocks.”
The two of them looked at each other for a moment after that little exchange. The seconds ticked by, slowly. And then they burst out giggling and chuckling. The remaining tension flowed away with those waves of laughter, leaving both of them pretty relaxed. With the last few sniggers still lingering, Rove picked up his mug, sipping the beer and enjoying the feeling of the fizzy liquid sliding down his throat.
“Donkey huh? Yeah, maybe you’re right. Might just be an ass.”
“Ow, it was partly a jest. You’re only half of an ass, my dear Rove.”
“So what you’re saying is that you like to hire half-asses?”
His last comment reached her ears just as she was sipping her drink. Her eyes widened as she struggled to force back her laughter, snorting into her beer instead. Fortunately, the keeper was quick to hand her a towel, the poet happily accepting it and quickly wiping the beer off her form-hugging shirt. Feeling his eyes floating towards her decollete, he refocused on the rim of his mug.
“No, Rove,” Ayuen said after she had cleaned up a bit, handing the rag back with a short word of thanks. “I only hire full-fledged asses. You became less of an ass over time, is what I’m trying to convey.”
She shot him a genuine smile. “You should strive to keep that trend going. It suits you.”
He scoffed at her. “Might suit me, but that doesn’t matter when I’m six feet under, now does it? Sometimes it’s better to be a full unapologetic ass.”
“And there you go again, exaggerating things and making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Am I though?” He retorted, taking another swig of his drink and finishing it. Slowly, he felt the alcohol and herbs warm his body, making him feel comfortable and slightly woozy. Looking at his coin pouch with a disappointed look, he knew this would be the only beer he would be drinking tonight.
“You’re right. You make a mountain out of a grain of sand.”
“For a poet, you’re surprisingly crude with words today.”
A soft drift of laughter emanated from the Pyrn poet next to him. The woman relaxed against the bar, moving a slender foot on the melody of the singing drifting through the common room.
“Being eloquent with words all the time can weigh heavy on the mind. So every once in a while I find it refreshing to just be a bit more ‘crude’, as you so elegantly put it.”
“And today is one of those days?”
“In a way. And I just love to bicker with you while enjoying a drink. One of the hobbies I picked up while we were on the road together.”
He shook his head with a smile, quickly picking up some copper palms and slapping them on the counter for the keeper to take. Time to get the blazes out of there before he got out-bickered.
“Right. At any rate, I will be outside for a bit, getting some fresh air. If we’re heading to sea, I can do with a bit of salt-less air beforehand. Have a good night, Ayuen. See you soon.”
She gave him a soft smile, one eyebrow softly raised. Her eyes mischievously flickered as she tilted her head. Her voice was lower now, the purr even more evident as she seductively rolled her words from her lips.
“Goodnight, Rove. Sleep well. The door to our room will be open when you return.”
After looking at the woman with a sudden wistful glance, he swiped his bag from under his stool and strode out, a cool breeze blowing pleasantly against his skin. Maybe that would cool the bubbling needs within him down a bit. But going by the smouldering soft look Ayuen gave him, he wasn’t sure if she would allow them to.
As he walked out, he missed the way Ayuen licked her lips, the flickers in her eyes growing into determination as she stood up and walked up the stairs to their room. The only thing he heard was the merry tune she hummed as she disappeared from view, the Herhor looking over his shoulder.
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By Shotaro Hamasaki, Unsplash