Ayuen
The Cleaned Fillet, Tinkersong
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/926707024362885130/1045841100604186624/Ayuen-WayX.png]
Ayuen art by Ina Koffen, @Ina_Koffen on Twitter
Smiling to herself, Ayuen looked as Rove fled the tavern in fear of an impending verbal defeat.
“Spoilsport.” She murmured, finishing her drink as well as she chuckled to herself. The poet looked around the common room, taking in the sights around her. It was fairly a fairly standard common room, all things considered. Lots of traders, some Herhors and a variety of barmaids that served all of them. Behind the bar, an older Jiyt man with a waxed moustache and faded overcoat cleaned some of the plates that the serving girls brought back. The hum and buzz of this place were familiar and pleasant. The only thing she didn’t like about places like this was the tendency for random barfights to erupt if one picked the wrong tavern.
“Anythin’ the matter, miss?” A nearby patron said, another Jyit. But other than the barkeep, this man was way older, old eyes looking at her questioningly above a big grey moustache and beard.
“Oh no, not really, sir.” She answered, shifting back to her more flowery way of speech. “Just taking in the sights and relaxing while I can. Sitting back and enjoying an establishment like this is always a welcome change of pace.”
“That it certainly is, miss.” He said while the barkeep took hers and Rove’s empty tankards, throwing them into a wooden tub filled with water that was standing nearby. The man nodded to the bottles behind the counter. “Can this old man buy ye another drink while ye wait fer yer companion to return?”
“I think I’ll pass on that one, sir. But thanks for the offer.” Ayuen smiled gently at him, looking through the room again before tilting her head slightly as her curiosity rose a bit. She looked back to the elder Jiyt.
“If you do not mind me asking, how long have you been visiting this establishment? I’ve visited my fair share of taverns on the Grasping Isle... oh... month or so, but never have I asked for the stories behind their regular patrons. Would you mind enlightening me on your situation?”
The man gave her a somewhat suspicious look. “I don’t mind, miss. But one thing before that. Ye talk like ye’re one of ‘em high-up noble types from the mainland. What’s up with that?”
That came as somewhat of a surprise. Ayuen blinked and shook her head. “I can assure you I’m not, sir. It’s just that I hail from the ci-…” She cleared her throat and started anew. “I’m just a city woman, that’s all. Nothing more to it.”
With Ayuen relaxing into a less formal way of speech, he nodded, his eyes shimmering in the soft torchlight that illuminated the softly buzzing common room. “That’s better, miss. Ye’ll find that the locals here often react better when ye’re speaking their kinda language. Now, what do ye wanna know?”
“Well, I would like to know more about why you live here in Fool’s Point. Got any fancy stories for a fancy lady?” It cost her some effort to talk without joking around.
From the corner of her eye, she saw they’d gotten the attention of the barkeep. Putting down the plates and his towel, he took a deep breath, his chest heaving. At first, it didn’t seem like he was paying them much mind, but his eyes betrayed his true intent. She could see the brown orbs glancing curiously in her direction. The older Jyit didn’t seem to notice, instead twirling his moustache while he pondered her question for a moment.
Her smile warmed up as she thought about Rove. Being more careful was one of the things he had managed to instil in her, after all.
“Hhmm, where to start?” The old man pondered. “I’ve been drinkin’ at this place fer a good plenty number of years. This here Isle is still a wild and new one, miss. Fool’s Point hasn’t been around fer more than a dozen years. And fer most of ‘em, I’ve been here in this here exact tavern, givin’ drinks to drunk sailors to get ‘em to buy more drinks from Jhom here.” He jutted a wrinkled crooked thumb towards the barkeep. Ayuen smiled at the barkeep somewhat apologetically, getting a polite nod and an eyeroll in return. Seemed Jhom didn’t mind terribly getting called out. The Pyrn poet refocused her attention on the old man.
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“I’ve heard from my companions that there are quite many retired Herhors lurking within the corners of the Isle. Are you one of them, by any chance?”
“Ha! Yer companion is half-right. I am retired, although not quite a Herhor.” The man tapped his hand on something strapped below his cloak. Ayuen could hear a few metal tings. The man kept his weapons close by hand, puffing out his chest proudly.
“Ship’s guard. Travelled with a merchant ship and kept it safe. Boss was an utter asshole, so I stuck around here and rebuild me life with the help of me wife and a couple of friends, Arals bless their souls.”
The man leaned on the counter on his elbow, looking at her expectantly. “Now, my turn. Why are ye travellin’ with the Iron Herhor, miss? And don’t say he isn’t who I say he is. I am quite acquainted with all the better-known Herhors, and he is certainly up there.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Well, guess it has no use denying it then. Is it a problem that I’m travelling with him?”
“Oh, not at all, miss. Truthfully, he’s quite popular around these parts. But fer him to offer ye his services, that be quite unusual. Must have cost ye a small fortune.”
“Not at all. I did hire him in Handport, but we’ve since found out that our goals align outside of our contract. We’ve been travelling together ever since the contract was completed.” Ayuen moved to fingertips together and laughed a sparkling laugh. “Mutual interests, as it were.”
The man let out a barking laugh. “Ha! Similar goals huh? If ye ask me, his goal is ye.”
The old man shamelessly eyed her chest and hips. “And to be fair, I would’ve too if I wasn’t married. Quite the exotic beauty, ye are.”
Ayuen quirked an eyebrow at him and then playfully huffed and glared at the man. Taking off her hood, she displayed her ears and volumous hair.
“Sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I am not much attracted to older Jiyt veterans. Especially when they buy copious amounts of alcohol to entice drunk sailors to sink into an even deeper stupor. No thanks.”
With mirth twinkling in the beady eyes above his bushy moustache, the Jyit waved a fist in front of his chest in a quasi-disappointed manner. He chuckled.
“Ah, darn it, a Pyrn woman even? Even more of a catch! Well, at least I tried.” He winked. “Don’t tell my wife I say that to ye. I’d like to wake up tomorrow with my moustache unshaven and intact if at all possible.”
“The world would indeed be a lesser place without that moustache. My lips are sealed, sir.”
The old man let out a loud, barking laugh.
“But enough about me. I’ve always liked playin’ matchmaker. Ye can do worse than ol’ Iron, that’s fer sure. He doesn’t drop by Fool’s Point often, but there’s enough buzz amongst them Herhors that even I know what he’s up to.”
Instead of being embarrassed or angry, Ayuen felt surprisingly receptive. Her eyes sultrily narrowed as she looked at the entrance of the inn, combing a hand through her hair.
“No need to play matchmaker, good sir. I’m quite confident that he’ll fall into my clutches soon enough.”
She gave him a playful wink, hamming her act up a bit by laughing evilly behind the back of her hand. Which led the man to laugh with her. Several patrons started to look at them, shaking their heads before returning to their conversation. For a moment, Ayuen was afraid she was being too obvious, but then she remembered they would get out of here tomorrow anyway. According to Triëste, Siandra hadn’t even known they were heading towards Fool’s Point, making it easy for the alchemist to outbluff her tormentor. Siandra thought they were going south and that Triëste was close to making the kill. A good cover to buy some time. Even if the rumours would reach Siandra, her contact wouldn’t be able to travel here in a mere day. Not out here. For now, she was most likely safe.
And she just needed to let loose a little. Her eyes drifted to the entrance again.
In multiple ways.
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She was ready to join him in his amusement when he began coughing and hacking. With a thud, he fell to the ground on his knees, grabbing his throat. Ayuen’s smile disappeared suddenly as she quickly told Jhom to get a mug of water. Guess this was too much amusement for a retired soldier to take. She quickly hopped off her chair and patted him on the back a couple of times.
“Yeah… *cough*… Yeah, I’m alright miss. Just these damned ancient lungs of mine acting up. I swear, if I die, my body will unleash some kind of ancient evil, I’m sure of it. Something sandy and swirly and full of rotten smells.”
“I’m sure, I’m sure. But not now.” Ayuen said, smiling softly and helping the man up.
“Ergh... No, not now. Still, guess this is the end of me evenin’. Miss, I wish ye a good night and a better journey.” The old man stood up, picking up a bronze-tipped cane that had been standing behind him, out of sight. He tossed a few silver fingers on the table.
“Ey Jhom! Make sure this lady eats and drinks as she pleases, aight? And toss in a drink for good ol’ Iron as well.”
Ayuen tried to argue for a couple of seconds, but the old man was adamant, with Jhom taking the money with a solemn nod. With one last wave of goodbye, the man slowly made his way upstairs to his room. With a smile plastered on her face, Ayuen looked after him until he was out of sight.
“Ah, blazes.” She mumbled to herself. “I didn’t even ask him his name.”
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/554030201789743105/1028654515798409237/Grasping_Isle_Final_V1.0.png]
Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story