When blades do flicker and gleam,
A young girl does greedily dream.
-Prophecy of the duskbringer
Seymour sat Stalia down by his side and poured her some wine.
“Here Stalia, enjoy a glass of this with me, no doubt you need a little rest and relaxation after a double shift.”
Stalia accepted the glass and drank it down.
“Mmmm so that's what a Galagan ice wine tastes like, it's got such a fruity aftertaste!” a warm flush started to shine on her cheeks.
Seymour laughed, “Tikka's breath girl, you really can't hold your liquor now can you? Tipsy already after just a half glass?”
Stalia pouted at his teasing, which shut him up as he got momentarily mesmerized by her appearance.
He coughed, breaking his eyes away from her face.
‘That was dangerous’ His instincts told him, ‘I almost pushed her down, why does she have to be so fetching beautiful…’
Once he had himself under control again he took a swig of liquid courage, and looked back at Stalia.
There she sat, elbows on the table cupping her chin in her hands, a finger absentmindedly curling a lock of her luscious raven hair round and round.
Her eyes, though slightly hazy with intoxication were large and innocent, boring straight into his.
They locked him down where he sat and it was a long moment before his thoughts broke free once more.
He silently poured them both another glass, forcibly controlling his hand to prevent it from shaking, this girl did things to him like none other had before.
They both drank slowly, enjoying the comfortable silence that enveloped them as they both relaxed from the tensions of the day.
All the background noises seeming to slide away in their shared gaze.
Seymour remained silent, waiting for Stalia to open up and start chatting, as she was inclined to when she got drunk.
He disliked this method, but it was the only way he could get first hand information on the depths of her life, and using that info preemptively eliminate the troubles that her family seemed to attract at every turn.
At least, without her finding out that is.
How many times had he thought of coming clean about his real career to her?
Too often to count.
But each time he was tempted he pictured the swift and sure rejection, disgust and rage in her eyes as she found out he was a part of the machine that had ground her family down.
That he was a part of the group that indirectly killed her mother and almost starved her and her siblings to death.
The mere thought of that look sliced at his heart and inspired a shuddering terror like none other.
‘No, I can never let her find out, this protection and friendship is all I can give her.’
‘We can never be more than that...unless I one day buy a title of nobility and some land, and run away from it all, then, there can be a possibility of more.’
Seymour snapped himself out of his self absorbed ruminating just in time to hear Stalia say,
“Life is going to be grand now Seymour, we’re rich!”
“Really? How so?” He foolishly asked, still bringing his slightly inebriated and distracted faculties to bear.
“My sister Guppy figured out how to turn LEAD, into GOLD!!” Stalia announced triumphantly.
Whether by fate or coincidence the bard had just finished a stirring number, the brief lull that followed was perfectly filled with Stalia’s tipsy and joyously loud exclamation that otherwise would have easily gone unnoticed in the normal clamour.
However instead it entered perfectly into the ears of every ne'er do gooder that occupied the tavern, instilling a silence as all eyes and ears focused on their booth.
“She turned a whole buncha lead into gold today she did, and was off to the fancy auctioneer’s place to get it sold! We’re rich now Seymour, so you and I can…”
The rooms populace never heard what Stalia’s future romantic plans were, for Seymour had rapidly sobered along with the inns occupants as the import of Stalia’s words settled in.
Moving swiftly but all too late he had knocked her out with a calculated blow to the back of her head with a lead weighted leather bound cush.
She would sleep soundly until the morning light, now he just had to make sure she lived to see it. Nevermind if it was true or not, and he was inclined to believe her honest nature, factional tensions had been especially strained of late, with every party looking for an edge, or to deny it of their rivals.
This would be investigated, by everyone as soon as word got out, and the gutters would choke with corpses as the behemoths clashed.
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Seymour stood, and his demeanor changed from a common genial youth to that of his other persona, the bloody black suk of Hamover Street bared his teeth at the attentive room.
Making a signal with his left hand half the rooms occupants stood and drew an assortment of gleaming blades before moving to his side.
Seymour then addressed the remainder of the rooms occupants.
“I trust you know what's best for your continued health. We will be leaving now.” He then lifted Stalia and walked with his escort of meat handers to the door in the ensuing silence.
There he stopped before Rade the bouncer.
“Take fifteen men and bring her to safehouse four, keep her safe while I deal with this mess.” Rade nodded silently and gently took Stalia from his arms.
The man had been one of Seymour’s men for years now, a close aide who rose through the ranks with his boss, and he had never failed a task yet.
Seymour fully understood how this steaming pile of Boola droppings would go down, before the night was out every power in Nolusburg would know and desire control of this variable called Guppy Bright, and any related parties were a bonus. The family would like as not be ripped in twain by those who’d come.
It fell to him to somehow keep them safe until things simmered down.
That meant he had to involve and gently guide the only powerhouse he could to the most desirable outcome.
It would be a walk along the razor's edge, but it must be done, and for there to be any chance of success he had to move quickly. Now.
Turning to a heavily scarred man on his left he commanded him.
“Brad, take five men and escort her brother to safehouse six, the boy should be home at this time, I trust you know the way?”
Brad nodded silently and quickly left after Rade.
The remaining two men followed him as he plunged into the shadows of the night, their breath steaming at the pace he set.
……………………………..
Soon after Seymour had left a voice piped up, “You think the lass was telling the truth?”
“What do you care Barney? We all know our patrons will pay for the news, and that's our booze money for next week covered. I’ll cover your deliveries if you want.” Came a response from his drinking buddy.
Barney snorted contemptuously and hucked a loogie to the floor. The Black Suk believed his companion, to act so decisively, that lent credence to the affair but it still felt awfully convenient.
It didn’t matter he supposed, greater minds than his would tease out the truth of the matter, likely with heated knives and pliers. He almost pitied the girl, but money was money and he rose with nine other occupants of the bar as they all swiftly left.
Silence descended over the now relatively empty bar and it's few remaining occupants.
At a table overflowing with empty mugs Jacques stared across at Hadoom, who returned his level stare with one of his own.
Their drinking contest had been quite thoroughly interrupted and their sobriety sharply returned with the shock of what had just happened, their adrenaline burning through the buzz.
“Not our fight lad,” Hadoom murmured sadly, “Not anymore.”
Jacques said nothing, merely keeping eye contact with his partner.
“It’s suicide to plunge into that heap of fiery excrement, forget it!” Hadoom angrily stated. “We’ll be naught but volunteering to paint the cobblestones with our innards!”
Jacques kept staring, his eyes like awls, slowly boring into Hadoom, who resisted stubbornly for a short while before finally letting out a big sigh.
“The Olde one take me! what have I got to live for anyway!? May as well have a good scuffle on my way out”
Jacques smiled broadly, matching the grin that now split Hadooms beard.
A mad light shone in both their eyes.
“Where to first my loony lad?” Queried the dwarf.
“To where we are needed most.” Jacques softly spoke as he stood and doned his hat and long coat.
“Aye the pretty not-elf lass then, I had a feeling it might be her.” muttered Hadoom to his back as they swiftly exited the establishment.
Unseen and unnoticed by them a red snowflake had landed on the back of Jacques collar as he passed the doorway, quickly seeping in, and marking the collar.
At a table in the furthermost corner a gleaming white smile could be seen below a dark red hood.
‘Now this seems interesting.’ Braxia thought to herself as she elegantly raised her body and leisurely started to follow the tracer spell she had planted on the handsome young half-elf.
But on her way to the door she halted, a murgoat lay in her path, and while it’s five legs betrayed its uniqueness from its four legged kin it was the strikingly violet eyes that held her.
Braxia went very still as she felt the chill of death creep over her. She stood frozen in mid stride, never had her finely tuned instincts screamed so loudly at her to run, to escape, to flee from the presence before her; And yet, she could not seem to twitch so much as a finger as those horrible eyes seemed to weigh her very existence.
Then the moment passed, the murgoat turned its head and quite anticlimactically started eating a hooded cloak that lay forgotten on a nearby chair.
Braxia felt her tension drain, and as her logic kicked in it suddenly seemed like a silly dream.
“Me, afraid of a mere murgoat? That wine must have been stronger than I thought for me to imagine such a thing.” Braxia murmured to herself, dismissing her earlier fear as inconsequential.
Nonetheless, she still made a wide berth around the chomping animal and swiftly exited the inn.
An old bald woman with deeply dark skin finished eating her bowl of stew in the now empty common room.
She slurped the final mouthful, burped, and rubbed her belly in satisfaction before tossing a few coins onto the table in payment and rising.
The bald woman grasped a gnarled staff, it's only decoration a rough owl carved at the top, that was worn and smoothed by many years of use, gained a persistent gleam that tricked the eyes and made the owl seem like it was moving ever so slightly in the flickering candle light.
Looking around she spoke to the empty room.
“And so the players are assembled, let the dice roll as they may.”
None were present to hear her, save for an old five legged murgoat happily slurping some spilled food off the floor, leaving it clean and oddly worn.
The woman smiled and patted the murgoat’s bobbing head on her way out, quickly disappearing into the evening mists of Nolusberg.
……………..
All around the city, the leaders of each faction heard the news of a girl with a golden touch, and they were all unanimous in their decision.
“Bring her to me, or don’t bother coming back.” They commanded their varied underlings.
The careful balance between them had been kept for far too long, and each now sensed the winds of fate blow.
Change was coming, they could feel it in their bones, and they would either stand above their rival’s shattered corpses or be the footstool to another.
Shadows swarmed in the night as blades flashed and magic flared in the dim alleyways of Nolusburg.
Citizens, sensitive to the bloodthirsty air that hung over the city, had long barred their doors and shutters, wanting no part of the madness that consumed the streets.
Only one girl skipped and danced through the barren roads, oblivious to her surroundings in the wonder that surrounded her and ecstatic daydreams of a better life to be.
Her heterochromatic eyes reflected the two sister moons that hung pregnant and heavy in the night sky, and changed.
They glowed even as her silver hair flowed behind her like a molten river of mithril in the starlight, as she danced, and danced, and danced...
End of Act 1