----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Larn
Tir Ral-Nor
‘Dar’ Eherdir O’ Lome
Fae O’ Elum
Fifth Servant of the Circle
Oras Own & the Circle’s lost children | Prelude (2/3)
-A glittering reflection-
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
> “Let the old ugly priest in,” Inis-Mir ordered the expecting Sir Qildor, the hidden behind the armchair small golden wyvern burped toppling backwards in the attempt to swallow the bloody foot of the rabbit and the gaunt Feyras entered her quarters.
>
> The ancient High Priest of Eodrass planted his staff down and bowed his head to the much shorter princess that made two small strides on the soft carpet to approach him, before she stopped amused.
>
> “You reek Feyras,” she told him scrunching her nose. “And your robes are dirty.”
>
> “Alas the God’s disciples live in the streets your grace,” Feyras replied. “Striving to gather support and extract funds to rebuild the God’s temple.”
>
> “Isn’t the Den almost finished?” Inis-Mir asked in a more light-hearted manner.
>
> “Priest Voldomir controls the grounds your grace, but left the small temples to the other gods wither away and crumble into ruins. I was talking about the grand temple to Eodrass in Chimera’s Mouth gulf though.”
>
> You think I do not know that?
>
> EARRUR!
>
> Feyras paused upon hearing Qodras’ whirr and furrowed his wild eyebrows. His eyes searched the princess’ lavish bedchamber for the source and then returned to the young girl’s face.
>
> “You went to see the old Princess,” Inis-Mir said now in a much harsher tone and Feyras blinked not expecting the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What did she say?”
>
> “I visited the Princess’ Tower per protocol,” Feyras started before stopping again as he spotted Qodras’ little silhouette faltering out of his hiding place. The wyvern had trouble walking on the soft carpet. “God is great and his kin are multiplying,” the wild-eyed priest cried and dropped to his bony knees afore the approaching baby wyvern, his staff clattering on the ground.
>
> “There is no protocol for her in our palace,” Inis-Mir hissed and placed her small foot on the genuflected priest’s head in order to press his forehead on the carpet. “For she stays there with our tolerance and in the company of disfigured cats.”
>
> “The egg hatched!” Feyras was heard saying in a muffled voice filled with reverence. “Praised be the Winged God!”
>
> “There is no temple to the god, lest it’s dedicated to our bloodline,” Inis-Mir continued pressing her foot intending to cut the excited priest’s words short. “And our wyverns Feyras. Say it, and the temple shall be rebuild.”
>
> “Your grace. None stands above the wyvern god,” Feyras grunted struggling to breathe, but not forcing the little princess off for fear of the guards waiting outside. Inis though wanted him to fear her alone. “But we can indubitably dedicate a hall to you personally.”
>
> Hah.
>
> “Not good enough,” Inis hissed and retracted her foot to allow the priest to raise his disheveled head. Feyras’ sweaty face turned to look at the scowling princess and Qodras, who had approached the priest’s outstretched on the carpet arms, opened a small mouth and bit down on an index finger with sharp gold teeth.
>
> “ARGH!” Feyras groaned and tried to pull the arm away, lifting the wyvern off of the ground in the process. Inis-Mir stepped forward and gave the priest a hard kick in the face knocking him down.
>
> “Let him take the finger,” Inis-Mir ordered and snapped her mostly crimson eyes on the imposing figure of Sir Qildor that had rushed inside her quarters hearing the priest’s groans. The silver-faced Rokae knight locked eyes with the much shorter in height princess and then bowed his head. Walking backwards Sir Qildor exited the room.
>
> “Gah!” Feyras growled holding on to his maimed hand and bleeding all over her carpet. “The princess is right and I accept the punishment! I ask for the wyvern’s forgiveness!”
>
> “Are you truthful?” Inis asked in a softer manner and offered him a silken hankie to use as bandage for his now shorter left finger.
>
> “I swear an oath to your cruelest of graces,” Feyras spat through his clenched teeth, a mad glean in his eyes. “Your highness is the true wyvern’s spawn!”
>
> “Good,” Inis-Mir replied and stooped to pick up the cleaning his snout on the carpet Qodras. The little golden wyvern hissed in protest, then tipped its head back to behold the princess’ smiling face looming over its body and let out a triumphant shriek.
>
> EARRAU!!!
-
image [https://i.postimg.cc/gdMDQCYX/taras2-low-res.png]
30th of Lunden Lotea
(The month of full blossom)
Taras’ center
Kingdom of Wetull
Ralnor stepped into a shade cast by an estate’s corner, tip-toed rapidly across the dark ashen roads of the screaming desert with a warning glare at a two-headed fiend that had crawled towards him using its four arms as legs, reached the bright incorporeal door and stepped out two blocks away back in Taras.
Right into a large main street.
The couple had just entered a nice villa and with a quick glance at a soldier standing guard outside a much bigger villa across from that one, Ralnor rushed after them. He rounded the stone fence to avoid detection from the street, entered a side corner with a hand touching the rails and then leaped over it. Ralnor landed inside a garden, navigated the flowers and the insect-covered vegetables, reached the back of the villa and looked for another way inside.
He checked the door first just in case and found it unlocked. With a grunt of anger at the lapse in security, Ralnor cracked the door open, sprinted silently across a kitchen, found a corridor next and at the end of it he plastered himself to a wall next to a staircase as he’d heard noise.
The voices of the two females coming from a big living room at the front of the villa. Ralnor breathed out, used a finger to gather some of the sweat trickling down his collar and listened to Jinx’s complaints.
“The sweet wine is gone! Twas right there!” The Gish protested. “She took it! I can smell her scent sipping from the fucking walls!”
“Where is she?” The Zilan female queried hoarsely.
“Sleeping after a night of debauchery and plenty of shagging?”
“That was you. You could’ve gotten me in trouble Drool,” the ranger-armour wearing Zilan reminded her in mild-protest.
“Eh, nobody was sober enough to recognize you,” Jinx retorted under the sound of chairs moving about and furniture creaking. “I bet she has it under the bed, them Cofol girls are heavy drinkers.”
“No they are not. That’s you again honey. Have you looked in the kitchen?”
“Hmm. Bottles don’t have legs honey.”
“Enough. You’ve had four bottles already Jinx.”
“I was saving it for later. Tis a new day?”
The Zilan sighed and tried to change the topic. “You said she works at the market?”
Ralnor peeked from around the corner to locate them, but they had found a divan near the south wall and the angle wasn’t great.
“Helps out Morthil and Vela for a bit of coin,” Jinx replied tiredly. “But no coin is entering this house. She spends it all afore coming back.”
“Why let her stay? The princess has a tower to herself.”
Ralnor narrowed his eyes.
“It’s a big villa,” Jinx replied. “Phina has used it and Assara still comes and goes. I don’t mind, as long they don’t mess with my stuff.”
“You don’t have stuff,” the Zilan teased.
“I have bags of stuff. Plenty of loot to retire on the morrow.”
“Two purses of coins also.”
“Sure. Was that a sly way to get a look at my tits?”
Ralnor grimaced.
“Your hands are wandering already,” the Zilan murmured. “Maybe check on your other girlfriend first?”
“I see what yer doing,” Jinx purred. “You want a taste of Moira.”
“I don’t even know her and you’re the one with the dirty mind Drool!”
“HEY!” Jinx bellowed and Ralnor recoiled almost giving himself away at the loud yell. “Are ye sleeping up there?”
“Not anymore!” Aelrindel’s annoyed voice snapped from the top of the stairs.
“Is that resentment I’m hearing?” Jinx queried annoyingly. “The boyfriend didn’t show up again? I’ve a wooden phallus locked in the window drawer.”
“There’s nothing there Gish!” Aelrindel snapped.
“Hah! Because I’ve hidden it from yer greedy drenched fingers!”
“Jinx come on,” the Zilan ranger whispered at her exasperated. “Don’t be rude.”
“How am I rude? Her wayward arse is the one sneaking guys in me place?”
Ralnor’s lip curled upwards in a grimace of anger.
“I didn’t sneak up…” Aelrindel voice protested sounding closer, probably the top of the staircase. She paused then added. “You have visitors.”
“Better put something on. I don’t mind, but Maeriel likes Cofol girls it appears,” Jinx retorted getting up from the divan.
“I’m not… Jinx damn it!” Maeriel apparently protested and gave the Gish a shove.
A familiar name. As a matter of fact Ralnor had heard about a talented ranger named Maeriel mentioned several times from his friend, the late Master Faelar. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be someone else.
“What? Didn’t you just say you want her in our bed?” Jinx retorted finding her footing after a full twirl on her toes.
“Shame on you. That’s a silly game you’re playing,” Maeriel told her.
“Not if it’s working,” Jinx replied meaningfully.
“I won’t get involved into your affair,” Aelrindel said coming down the stairs in her Moira disguise. “Heavenly greetings Maeriel. Heard a lot about you,” she told the ranger walking towards them in a short robe that left a lot of leg showing. Ralnor found the opportunity to rush towards staircase whilst they were distracted, reached the top and ducked behind a cupboard, just as the ranger’s eyes flickered back towards him.
Shit.
“Is that so?” Maeriel replied sounding guarded. “May I enquire from whom?”
Yeah doll, where did you?
“Jinx of course.”
Nice dodge, Ralnor thought.
“Eh, I didn’t say that much,” Jinx said sheepishly. “Not that I remember.”
“You did silly,” Aelrindel insisted in Moira’s voice.
“Isn’t she charming?” Jinx asked Maeriel with a broad grin. “Look at those concealed melons, damn it her legs are taller than me fer crying out loud!”
“Stop it Jinx,” Maeriel admonished the aroused Gish, while Ralnor let out a breath he was holding out. “Is there someone else in here?” The perceptive Zilan asked and Ralnor scowled. It was the stairs, he thought. Too much noise.
“Assara was, but she went to hunt in the lake,” Aelrindel replied.
“Glen won’t like that,” Jinx noted.
Ralnor frowned.
“She’ll be fine.” Aelrindel assured her.
“Wasn’t worrying about her,” Jinx retorted. “Having said that, where’s that mysterious boyfriend yours?”
“Rhu is obviously still busy,” Aelrindel retorted sounding discomforted with the subject. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”
Rhu? Who the fuck is him?
What in Oras Hells is going on here?
“Sure looked like it the other day! Hah! Never seen someone leg it away as fast as he did in a while,” Jinx guffawed mocking her words. “Reminded of me and Alix escaping the pirates back in Eikenport. Aye. That was one hell of a drop out of that window. Poor thing landed on that dog.”
“He didn’t survive?” The sorceress asked perceptively catching the Gish’s sad undertone. “Your friend.”
Why only him doll? What about the dog? Ralnor thought mockingly at the dragging conversation.
“That day he made it, but he didn’t survive Wetull,” Jinx replied hoarsely.
“I’m sorry Drool,” Maeriel said and Aelrindel thankfully found the opportunity to excuse herself.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” the sorceress said and turned around to walk up the stairs.
“Where is my wine Moira?” Jinx asked and the sorceress paused with a sigh.
“I came home tired and had some of it,” she told the Gish. “It was less than a goblet Jinx.”
“I bet it looked like that to you,” Jinx retorted provocatively. “Not easy to quench that thirst Moira.”
Fucking hell! That Gish is difficult to live with, Ralnor thought shaking his head.
----------------------------------------
Ralnor entered the bedroom with the open door at the end of the corridor facing the back of the house, where a much bigger garden was located. The bedroom had two large open windows, wholly bathing it in sunlight. The assassin upon hearing the slow-walking Aelrindel approach outside the corridor, tried to find a semblance of shade at first, or a nice furniture corner, found nothing that didn’t face the door, or was fully doused in brilliant morning light, and so he was forced to duck behind the opened door itself.
The sorceress entered the bedroom a moment later, sashaying barefoot on the pink marble tiles. Walking past him she sat on the disheveled bed to clean her feet with a wet towel and then put a pair of fancy bead-covered sandals on. A man hasn’t seen what allure looks like, until he stands witness to the comely witch putting a pair of leather-string sandals on.
Aelrindel sighed deeply and walked to one of the windows, the sunlight coming through illustrating her enticing body under the sheer robes she had tossed on to talk with Jinx and Maeriel earlier, just as the illusion magic faded away and the sorceress true glorious form returned.
But for the color of her hair.
“Gentle Goddess, am I to live like this?” Aelrindel griped with a raspy murmur, grasping the window’s stool with both hands and then her body started shaking. A wave of frustration overcame Ralnor’s senses not soon after projected from the emotional female and upon hearing the witch’s sniffles, he stepped out from behind the door sheet with a scowl.
Aelrindel froze immediately detecting his presence with her aura that had sipped to the floors of the room, and immediately twisted around with gawking eyes. She went from saddened not a moment ago to being very startled and before Ralnor could utter a single word, the sorceress crossed the distance between them and hugged his gaunt, wiry frame with both arms. Aelrindel’s soft body pressed on his, long hair and warm lips breathing near his maimed ear.
“You made it Larn,” she whispered. “Thank the Allgods. I missed your annoyed face!” Then the sorceress added a little apprehensive. “Where’s little Toutatis?”
“Close enough,” Ralnor retorted hoarsely moving his hands up and down her back over the sheer fabric. He sniffed at her sweet-smelling long neck. “Orange oils?”
“Goras’ citrus orange and you need a bath silly,” Aelrindel chuckled and stood back a little, as Ralnor’s right arm wouldn’t let her move further away. “Larn, I’m stirred enough to make a mistake here after years of celibacy,” the sorceress added with a coy smile. “We’ll both regret.”
“I wouldn’t,” Ralnor retorted pursing his mouth and released her reluctantly.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The painted in Cofol colors witch sighed. She didn’t need much done as her skin had taken a darker tone after months on the road, instead of her natural alabaster.
“You’re my oldest friend by a lot,” Aelrindel reminded him. “Are you not?”
“A man can be more than one thing,” Ralnor murmured and the sorceress pressed two fingers on his mouth, he trapped with his lips and teeth.
“Mmm,” Aelrindel whispered thoughtfully. “Mother always told me, never to allow you in my bed.”
Ralnor blinked in shock, not expecting the late Edlenn –who he viewed as a mother figure as well- would ever take such a position. He felt anger rising in him, a feeling of profound betrayal, but battled against it with a grimace and a clench of his jaw.
Aelrindel made a face and the assassin realized he was about to bite her fingers off with his teeth. “I don’t put up barriers, nor do I always listen to another’s advice, even if she was my mother,” she soothed him, retrieving her moist fingers away from his gnarly mouth.
That’s a lie doll. You are trying to distract me.
“Why work in the market?” Ralnor grunted with a frown and tried to clear his head from the sorcerer’s threads that started swirling around his body. Each unseen loop tying him up even more to the half-smiling sorceress. “Stop it.”
“You don’t want me to,” Aelrindel whispered and tried to touch his face again, but Ralnor jerked away with a grunt. “Maybe I should take a peek inside your head—”
“Doll, that’s enough!” Ralnor growled.
“Hush. Jinx is downstairs.”
“Answer the query.”
“I forgot it,” the witch retorted, raising a painted black eyebrow.
“Why work in the market?” Ralnor hissed through his teeth, battling with himself and a powerful erection. He’d a small blade stuck in his pants and it didn’t leave that much room for his awakened cock to move about.
“I met some local healers, and needed the coin to buy better clothes,” Aelrindel replied dismissively. “It helps learning things about the city. I couldn’t exactly stay in Morn Taras… without an invitation. Lithoniela has an excuse for that.”
She had stumbled there for a moment. Ralnor narrowed his eyes suspiciously and the sorceress’ warm hand found his left cheek again to distract him. “I’m not in danger, it is just a job.”
Ralnor grabbed her hand and moved it away. “Lithoniela went there alone and hasn’t returned. How do you know whether she’s staying there on her own volition, or not?”
“Calm down. I was present for that part. Briefly.”
“What part? What do you mean… you were there?”
Other than the obvious that is.
“Eh, we just happened upon the Hallowed on the trip here and they brought us to Morn Taras directly,” Aelrindel explained in a light-hearted manner. Seeing Ralnor’s face getting severely distorted from his deepening scowl, she added quickly. “We were greeted and then I left, but she stayed in a beautiful tower.”
“Greeted by whom? King Garth? That Reeves cretin?”
“Uhm. But we split up.”
Bullshit.
“What happened to Morn Taras Doll?” Ralnor asked soberly and Aelrindel smiled sweetly seeing his face marred with angry ticks.
“My fuming Ralnor, ever worrying about nothing,” she purred stepping near him again to cup his face with both hands. Long fingers working their way to his earlobes. She gently massaged both to soothe his anger, under the assassin’s furious stare.
“Speak, else I’ll tie you to that bed and work it out of you with a pair of pliers,” Ralnor grunted irate and grabbed both her wrists with his hand.
“I spoke with Glenavon briefly,” Aelrindel blurted out and tried to get away instinctively. “Let go of me Larn!”
“In his hall?” Ralnor spat and she nodded. Ralnor released his grip on her. “Who else was there?”
“No one important… well, Aenymriel I guess,” Aelrindel started and seeing Ralnor bristle at the mention of the Circle’s custodian name, she quickly added reassuringly. “Slipped right past her and him without problem. The crazy cunt doesn’t know who I am, or how I look.”
“You stood next to Nym?” Ralnor growled not believing his ears and her monumental luck. “And the darn King… inside that bloody hall? Is that much-fabled place as small as this room?
“No silly,” the witch replied trying to diffuse the rising tension. “We were in his quarters, ha-ha. Which are pretty big also.”
Ralnor gulped down numbly. “You went to the King’s quarters?” He asked calmly, but the witch caught the undertone and probably realized she had let much more slip out than what was needed.
As always.
“I think I hear Toutatis downstairs. That kid might bring the girls here,” Aelrindel said with a nervous smile and puffed out. “Now that we’ve said all there was to say—”
“The fuck were you doing in there?” Ralnor exploded afore he could control himself. He clenched his fists at the sorceress’ stunned and a bit hurt expression, as if Ralnor was being unfair to her for no reason. “The plan was to stay away from him Doll. Lay low, which you aren’t doing. Obviously. Damn it, for sure you had to stay away from Morn Taras, if it was possible. Goes without saying that this included taking a tour of the plaguing venue! How did you end up inside his bloody bedroom of all fucking places?”
“I don’t like your tone,” the sorceress hissed with an acerbic pout.
“Are you serious?” Ralnor snapped and grabbed at his face in despair. Run the fingers over his sweaty, shaven skull pushing the hood away.
“He invited me,” Aelrindel elucidated seeing his frustration. “I had no choice. But it went nowhere.”
Ralnor blinked at her words. “Where was it supposed to go damn it?”
“It’s an expression without a deeper meaning. Don’t get too hung up on the details!”
Ah. Now you’ve said a whole lot of nothing in response, which makes your previous words hold a much deeper meaning.
More disturbing stuff.
Great.
“Why in Oras Hells was Nym present?”
“They are close? He has a weird taste in women,” the witch added conspiratorially.
I bet he does!
“Didn’t he invite you as well?”
“I denied him firmly,” Aelrindel replied in a stern voice, puckering her mouth in a warning for Ralnor to drop the matter.
This blunder is getting worse by the second.
“That’s just fucking great,” Ralnor grunted unable to go along and grinded his teeth. “Shit. Dar Lingos was roaming Mussel.”
“What? Did he know you were going to disembark there?” Aelrindel asked walking to the door past him in order to lock it. She found no key and Ralnor grabbed a chair, turned its back to the front and then lodged it under the door knob to prevent the door from opening by anyone curious.
None stood more curious than a Gish.
----------------------------------------
“Lingos?” Aelrindel asked the moment he returned. Ralnor grunted in response and walked to the windows in order to check the garden outside for any intruders.
“Dead,” he replied with a frown at the Zilan living in the villa across the garden’s fence. She stood on her balcony and looked at their window with a pair of binoculars. “Who the fuck is that creep across the street?”
“She likes watching other folk from afar,” Aelrindel explained hoarsely and touched the side of her heart at the news that one of her mother’s rumored assassins had been sent to Oras Hells. “The villa was empty for years afore the Gish purchased it. Goddess what a year this has been. Gratitude Larn.”
“Um. We don’t know who was there for certain. How come the Gish has that kind of coin?”
“Garth provides for his friends?”
“Is she fucking him?” Ralnor grunted.
“Eh. Not that I know,” Aelrindel murmured still distracted with the news. “What was Lingos doing there?”
“Following your prince of thieves,” Ralnor hissed.
“Eight is still alive?” Aelrindel asked with a cute frown. “I thought he was eaten by a wyvern eons ago?”
“Drowned in a ship wreckage.” Ralnor grunted. “It was him.”
“How do you know how he looks silly? You know all about him from me,” Aelrindel grinned breaking some of the tension. So Ralnor brought it all back.
“No Doll, I do not. I’ve met Neil personally. Matter of fact, I know a lot more people than you.”
“Pfft, boasting won’t impress me.”
“It is the truth, not easily discerned by those that had fallen for every single tale they had been fed to,” Ralnor deadpanned.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. As for that creep, he did come back to steal Elas’ office back when I was little,” Aelrindel griped reminiscing. “After he’d promised me that he wouldn’t. So I wasn't fooled by him. He just lied.”
So you know what I’m talking about and you miss the point again.
Not to mention lying… is part of making a fool out of someone.
“He’s a thief Aelrindel,” Ralnor said stretching his patience to its limits. “Famously.”
“A promise is a promise,” the witch argued stubbornly. “You think Nym has more assassins around?” She asked hugging her chest. “I didn’t like her vibes at all.”
“Yes,” Ralnor replied simply.
If I’ve made a guild out of nothing, then Nym for certain has repaired what was already there.
Mayhap even added to it.
Ralnor paused contemplating, as Aelrindel had gone to a small table attached to a wall, with a square mirror on its side and sat down. She started working her long hair into braids with a silver pin.
“What are you doing?” Ralnor asked very confused.
“I’m going out. I have to be at the market stand in an hour,” Aelrindel explained. “We are making salves for sunburn today. Plus I might have another obligation later. It’s first Valimae Lilt on the morrow and these days are considered a holiday. In honor of the Monarch’s late wife.”
The assassin licked his lips. “You are going on a dance?”
“Ha-ha. Didn’t think that far, but I met someone interesting,” the witch replied mirthfully and paused to stare intently at the scowling Ralnor using her mirror. “A successful adventurer.”
“That Rhu dude,” Ralnor hissed through his teeth.
“Yes. He’s pretty busy, but a stand up guy.”
“Taras’ message boards are bursting with quests these days?” Ralnor asked mockingly.
“He saved my life… in a sense Larn,” the witch said austerely.
“Didn’t you say you came upon no danger?”
“Some thugs. They wanted to steal my coin,” Aelrindel explained. “Rhu stepped in to help.”
“When was that?”
“A couple of days back, inside an alley near the market.”
“This Rhu dude, just happened to be there?” Ralnor asked calmly.
“Why is everyone so nosy? Some men have a knight’s gallant soul and act on instinct,” the witch replied distractedly and Ralnor felt bile rising to his throat. The starts of a severe migraine attacking the membranes of his cranium.
“Where is he from?” He grunted.
“Lesia?”
“That’s a kingdom. Many cities in it.”
“So? You’re starting to sound like the Gish Larn.”
Yes doll, I am. Forced to endure your fuckups can turn anyone into a fool.
“What if he works for Nym?”
“He’s a Lorian,” Aelrindel turned the chair to stare at him frustrated. “You could be more supportive you know. This hasn’t been a good year for me and the King was a huge disappointment. It is very sad how it turned out.”
“As opposed to…?” Ralnor asked curling his mouth.
The witch showed him her back.
“Doll you tried to have him killed.”
“An accident and it was only the one time, he knows nothing about. I changed my mind. Jinx is fine with it. The second time was all you.”
“Jinx doesn’t know who you are. What if she remembers?”
“Lithoniela talked with her. We don’t need assistance on the matter. Focus on dealing with Nym afore she gets any ideas.”
“If Nym wants to move against you, we might not see her coming. This is her turf Doll.”
“I don’t fear her.”
Neither did your mother and look at what happened.
“The princess is not right, you’ve told me as much yourself,” Ralnor hissed and then sighed, pursed his mouth and added diplomatically. “You don’t know Taras. Give me that adventurer’s name. I’ll check on his backstory at the guild.”
The witch rolled her eyes at his ‘perceived’ jealousness, which happened to be the smallest part of his concerns, and then told him the adventurer’s full name.
-
30th of Lunden Lotea
Early noon
Taras –Inner City District
3rd street (towards the West Tower entrance)
Goras Adventurer’s Guild building
Reception desk
The blond Lorian girl chewing a eucalyptus oil soaked type of gum, called the Mastiche, raised her pale blue eyes to examine the unlikely hooded pair that had stepped in front of the Guild’s reception desk. She scrunched her nose at them, pink tongue wetting her lower lip unsure and deft left hand fingers working to loosen her light leather-armour’s collar.
“Are you members of the Guild?” She asked and tapped a wooden name tag set in front of her. “I’m Isabela Colonna.”
“Can I have a gold—?”
Tout never finished his query, as Ralnor’s hand had blocked his mouth abruptly. Isabela made a grimace and then stared at the disconcerting smirk that had split the assassin’s lips. Her right arm dropped under the desk for some concealed weapon.
Best case it's a club. Worst, a loaded crossbow.
A bolt to the face might go right through a skull at this distance.
“There’s no need for that,” Ralnor started his usual mantra that he had borrowed from Eight many centuries ago, but he didn’t have the chance to finish also, although it was for a different reason. A mid-aged muscular man, sporting a rich beard got out from a door behind Isabela and came to stand next to her.
“Mister Mulligan,” Isabela said mockingly. “I can handle new members.”
“I’m not sure they are new dove,” Mulligan replied and gave her a wink. “This ain’t Diamant Bela.”
“I know that Evan,” Isabela protested, her Common coming with a heavy Lesia accent. The city mentioned giving Ralnor the rest of her backstory sort of. The High Barony of Levacum was at the southernmost edge of the Lesia Desert and Diamant was a town famous for its mines.
“There are a lot miles on these boots,” Evan Mulligan insisted in a semi-fatherly tone.
“Fine, I’ll head to the Common Room to speak to the boys. Marlo Clinton is here and he brought Sam Mathews along this time,” Isabela yielded and turned around to walk away from the desk and into the corridor leading to the doors of the Common Room of the Guild.
“Stay away from Clinton. Heard he got an itchy finger,” Evan guffawed and stared at the young female adventurer walking away in her pair of tight leather pants. The comment about this Clinton almost esoteric. “Knew her from when she was nine,” Evan told the silently waiting Ralnor with an apologetic grin. “You just can’t tell how they’ll turn up, but I promised her father to keep an eye on her just the same. That your kid?”
Ralnor stared at Toutatis and the young teenager looked at him. The assassin pursed his mouth with Toutatis doing the same and then they both turned their gaze on the amused adventurer.
“It’s plaguing obvious, I guess,” Evan said with a shrug of his shoulders. “What can I do you for lads? You are not here to sign up? Due to the holidays, I haven’t had the time to update the prices. The fee has gone up.”
“How much?” Toutatis asked afore Ralnor could stop him.
“Twenty percent of yer profit,” Evan replied readily and Tout bared his teeth like an angry dog. “Whoa, yer a bit on the wild side aren’t ye?”
“I’m looking for a man that calls himself Rhu Fareno,” Ralnor intervened raspingly and Evan glanced at his cloak and half-visible weapons’ harness.
“What for?”
“I’m a friend of his sister’s,” Ralnor replied.
“Rhu doesn’t have a sister that I’m aware of,” Evan countered.
“I meant mine,” Ralnor corrected himself and Evan frowned, but then sighed.
“What did he do?” He asked scratching the side of his thick greying beard with a nail. “Got her pregnant, or something?”
“Nothing that permanent yet,” Ralnor retorted.
“Right. Look, if its coin you seek, I’ll pay for the lad and I’ll sort it out with him,” Evan offered. “I’m the leader of the local Guild.”
“Is Rhu, new here?”
“Sure, but I know his sponsor.”
“Where’s he from? The sponsor?”
Evan Mulligan returned the Zilan’s stare frostily.
“I thought you wanted to learn about Fareno. Now you know, and the free info session of the day ends here mister…?”
“You can call me Larn.”
“The day too cold for you Larn? Ye might feel out of place on the morrow.”
Ralnor smacked his lips annoyed, his eyes examining the adventurer’s sturdier gear and the well-made ring-reinforced leather armour. Hearing voices coming from the end of the corridor, his eyes flickered, but then forced himself to reply.
“I’ve an old injury and a rather offensive skin color, to the pure-blooded Zilan,” Ralnor hissed, seeing Isabela return with a couple of heavily-armed male adventurers. Both of them over thirty.
“I knew you weren’t human. Hey, don’t worry about it. Just get with the times Larn,” Mulligan replied visibly relaxing now that he had regained the numbers. “This is Taras. The bigoted past is old history and Arguen Garth sits the wyvern throne.”
“Friend of the guild?” Ralnor asked with an eye at the group of adventurers coming towards them. Toutatis had half-unsheathed his shortsword next to him and he’d a hand ready to reach for Dar Lingos’ much larger blade, now secured on his back.
“The Monarch? You can say he built it. Sam Mathews here, is one of his good friends. Right Sam?”
I see.
“Don’t get me involved in your bullshit Mulligan,” Sam warned him with a glance at the pale-skinned Ralnor.
“I won’t take much more of your time,” Ralnor said and stepped back from the desk, his right hand grabbing the snarling Toutatis by the nape to drag him away.
“Have a good Lady Sovereign’s day mister Larn,” Evan called on his back and then they were outside the Adventurer’s Guild estate-sized building.
“Let’s get back inside,” Tout urged the scowling at the semi-failed attempt Ralnor. “We call kill them and get the girl. Show her the way.”
Ralnor blinked and glared at the grinning one-eyed teenager.
“What in Oras Hells are you blubbering about?”
Toutatis blushed fiercely and then puffed out. “I liked her?”
“So you’ll kidnap her?”
“How is that worse than eating her soft parts?” Toutatis argued and Ralnor hissed irate, snapped his head right and then left for any onlookers, afore he shoved the yelping teenager towards the corner of the building.
----------------------------------------
The light of the street and the front of the Guild’s estate dimming inside the dark alley, the right side occupied by the outer wall of the Guild’s estate and the left by two adjoined two story houses. One of them recently rebuilt –the one facing the 3rd street- but the other still a half-ruin, missing most of its top floor.
The instinctively alerted Ralnor paused to have his eyes adjust to the difference, heard tip-tapping of many legs over his head and snapped his head towards the sound, afore realizing that the narrow alley had carried it from somewhere much further inside.
What sadistic malarkey is this?
A groan and a heavy thud was heard, probably a body hitting the cracked cobblestone. Then a familiar yet very distant hissing voice followed, chilling the alarmed Ralnor’s blood inside his veins.
> Remember acolyte,
>
> The sharpened blade is thy only crew
>
> Lithe feet sunk in sands, where all souls nest
>
> Shrieking Dark’s entry leap, afore flesh melts to glue
>
> For long, Light’s servants shall never seek to rest
No way.
‘For in the unspoiled black of pure darkness,’ Ralnor finished the words. ‘There stands a glittering reflection.’
And you’ll know that you are inside the Circle.
A strange bright light flashed at the far edge of the alley, just as Ralnor dashed forward leaving the cursing Toutatis back. A breath and he’d halved the distance from the bizarre phenomenon that started dissipating already. Half of that time later and his hurting eyes spotted a large, well-dressed body resting in a glistering pool of blood, smelled aromatic incense burning –a lot of it- and caught a glimpse of a slim female body, wearing a bodysuit, disappear inside a lingering dark crack in the left wall.
Ralnor quickstepped the rest of the distance in the blink of an eye, the shades returning inside the alley and followed after the female. Just as he crossed through to the in-between realms, Ralnor caught out of the corner of his eye, a bizarrely-formed shadow rapidly climbing the six meter tall wall of the estate and disappear from sight.
Accursed Dar Nalta slipping away.
Then who in Oras’ rotten nails was he going after? A peeved Ralnor wondered.
All the time roaring incensed internally.
Oras Hells in the airheaded witch’s visions!
He hadn’t picked up a sure spot to exit in his haste, but even so Dar Eherdir maintained his legendary outward composure under immense pressure and didn’t make a single sound.
Not a peep.
You allow a yelp to escape, or too loud a fart, whilst walking the shadows and all manner of freaky things might pop out of the blasted darkness to say hello, Ralnor thought, just as he crashed inside the deserted terrain and then immediately rolled in the pitch black onto a distracted ogre-sized fiend’s back.