“You won’t miss him dear. He was a traitor and a scoundrel. Let his cries comfort you while you morn.”

~Marra of Light

I wipe blood from my face as we enter Shill’s grounds. The small town’s humble origins in farming and millwork bleed through in every person and building. The large clocktower, the emblem and pride of the city, also houses a set of windmills. They all turn the grain and corn of the fields of lanturn corn into bread-the lifeblood of the people of the plains. Weathered folks of origins easily predicted, Shill perhaps, begin flocking towards our massive crestback oxe as we enter the city.

I lead the way as Kinsley stares at the ground. I knock on my chest twice and wince, but continue leading us towards the central part of the town. We follow the main road. It’s white stones stands bright and beautiful against the moonlight while it separates the two halves of the town. Shops carrying stonework and runes from Exile’s Gap stand on either side of the road, and while Shill’s buildings and roads are paved with the same stone as Exile’s Gap, the people making it’s populace are very different. They stare at us with dangerous eyes. Some shut their windows and doors. Most of the mothers and fathers grab their children and bring them back from the gathering crowd of onlookers. I whisper under my breathe,“Back to the real world I see.”

We push through the atmosphere and people until we reach a charming cottage like building with a bright sign reading, “Rosewild Apothecary.” I point towards the building and ask Kinsley, “The rendezvous?” Her head sags low. She doesn’t respond. I sigh and say, “I’m sorry. We can talk about it after we finish the job.” Her head nudges, but stays focused clearly on the ground at her feet.

I knock on the door of the building with three long, hard knocks. The door opens wide as a grey haired man with an eyepatch and a bright smile says, “Come in! Come in! No reason to knock.” His smile fades instantly as he looks at the splatters of blood drenching the bottom half of my arms. He take a step back and says, “Now look. We don’t want any trouble here.” I raise my hands in surrender, “I mean no harm. We are the escorts from the main headquarters in Exile’s Gap.  I am new, Ariak Sato is my name. Kinsley,” I pull her lightly over and continue, “You might know her from previous business deals.” The man’s deep scowl fades and he wipes his brow of sweat, “By the god’s. Have you looked at yourself! You’d ought not be the person introducing the group to me! Blood soaked, horned and menacing.”

I stare at him, “I’d be more than willing, but we lost a companion on the way, and my friend deserves some rest. Can you accommodate that need.” His mouth opens wide as he says, “Ah. I’m very sorry to hear that. Mind if we sit down and you recall the story as I have someone bring her to her quarters?” I nod. He calls for an employee from the back of the store, and she brings Kinsley up a set of stairs towards the back of the building.

With the intensity of the situation outside waning, my eyes wander across the store. It mimics the same efficient arrangement found in the primary headquarters in Exile’s Gap, but in a much smaller, denser space. With far smaller amounts of the various ingredients, potions, scrolls, and alchemical equipment, but a similar selection none the less. The man raises an eyebrow, “First time at one of our smaller branches? We pride ourselves in bringing grand selections and choices to all manors of smaller villages across the continent.” I nod, “It seems so! Rosewild always seems to impress.”

He smiles brightly and after passing behind the primary counter of the store, I recount our story since leaving Exile’s Gap. He introduces himself as Galdo Leaven, and goes through the motions of the tale. Opening his eyes wide in moments of suspense, and crossing over his heart with his hand after I tell him of Cross’s fate.

“A poor way to go. Was there really no way to save him?” My eyes grow misty, “Sometimes our situations surpass our ability to control them. It has instilled vigilance in us. If not for us, then for Cross’s memory.” The man squints his eyes hard, “A moment for the lad.” We sit behind the counter for awhile. I lose my sense of time during the pause. After awhile he raises his head and says, “Well. We can’t let it get us down for too long. I’m sure your in need of good food, rest, and a bed. We’ll handle unloading the supplies from the carriage, and getting everything ready for you in the morning. How about you head upstairs, and I’ll bring some soup for you two later?”

I nod as I stand, “It’s a part of our job. I’m glad for the empathy, but please stop it short of sympathy. Which room?” He stammers, “O-Of course Ariak. Second room on the right after you get to the top of the stairs. Kinsley will be in the first.” I give him a balled fist as a gesture, and walk up the stairs. The creak heavy and hard with each step. As I pass by the first door, I hear sobbing.

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I reach out towards the door, but then I don’t open it. I just place a hand on it for a second. I shake my head and enter my room. Like almost every other inn room in the western side of the continent, light colors and simple, wooden furniture litter it. It’s all far too small for me, but the bed made from cotton grown outside Shill looks enticing nonetheless. Galdo brings us both a nourshing meal of chicken corn stew, and I relish every bite as it brings warmth back into my haggard body. He also brings a fresh water bucket from the well in town, and by the gods in heaven, I clean myself and clothing as thoroughly as possible with it.

I steady myself for the night, but before I can fall asleep, I think of the days events and sit up. After standing and moving outside the room, I move in front of Kinsley’s room. I knock on it lightly, and say, “Kinsley, It’s Ariak. Mind if we talk for a second?” Kinsley’s voice rings hoarse, “Maybe tomorrow.” I shift slightly, “I think it’s better if it’s tonight.” I hear soft footsteps lead towards the door, and she cracks it slightly, “Why?”

I tap the side of my head, “Better to straighten stuff in here before it sets. Trauma is like a damned river. If you don’t fix it quickly it settles. Sometimes into a lake, but a lot of times it becomes a swamp.” Her luscious red hair falls in front of her eyes and she says, “Fine. What do you wanna say?” I tilt my head towards the left and raise my eyebrows, “Might be better if we’re sitting down.” She slowly opens the door while staring me down, “Fine.”

We take our seats at two chairs in the simple in room, and begin talking. “Did you enjoy the chicken soup?” Her eyes roll, “I guess. Too much crossroot.” I say, “Beggers can’t be choosers. If you want, I can make us some mountaintop gruel. I can promise most of the worms will be dead by the time we eat them.” Her face scowls, “That’s disgusting! Ewww! Would you eat worms?” I smile, “Not only would I, but I have eaten my fair share of them. They kind of taste like peanuts, if you’ve ever had them.” She says, “Never. Krawtea only had almonds.” I furrow my chin, “You sorry example of culinary experience.” She laughs, “Sorry I haven’t eaten buckets of worms covered in almonds.” I smile wide, “You just don’t know what your missing. ” She smiles back.

A second of silence passes and I place a hand on her shoulder. Her thin clothing does little in preventing the sensation of skin on skin contact, and she blushes. I laugh lightly, “You’re easily embarrassed. If that’s what you were hoping for I’m sorry to disappoint.” Her face glows beet red and she starts hitting me in the side, “W-What! Get out you swine! You cur!”

I squeeze my hand on her shoulder, “Tell me about Cross. What did you like about him? What did you hate? How long did you two know each other?” She stops hittin my side and stares up at me. Her eyes are green, and the moonlight bounces lightly from her white, smooth skin. “What do you mean?” I say, “When I first met Cross, the first thing I thought was the word ‘stern.’ This is a man of action, and follow through. Somebody you can rely on, trust even.” Her eyes grow moist, “Oh…. Funny enough when I first met him he was homeless.” I raise an eyebrow, “No!?”

She laughs, “Believe it or not it’s true. He was a drunk and a fester oil addict before Rosewild picked him up. When he first joined our little group I remember Al’Amur saying, ’At least we’ll see rapid improvement with this one.’” I smile and she continues, “He quickly changed after the first time he saw some medicine he delivered save a life. A young girl named Lenah from Albora. She was sick with the tumerian flu, and only rosewild had come up with a salve that made people more likely to live through it.” Images of my homeland, Crescea, flow through my mind. Pain and war grip my heart like a crocodile dragging it’s kill into a river.

She continues, “I remember how much it meant to him. He fell in love with what we do then. He-” Her eyes turn bloodshot and she begins crying. “He was a good man.” She grabs my side and sobs loudly. Her soft skin presses against me. Her hair smells of the southern sun and leather. Small drops of water drop onto my arm as she clutches me, and buries her face into my shirt.

I wrap an arm around her, but my mind has left the room. It only thinks of my brothers and sisters. Their blood and tears. Their moments of crisis. The day their first children were born, or the time we all gasped as a small child walked for the first time. The day it was taken. The day it was ruined. A single tear falls from my cheek. It lands on her exposed shoulder.

She stares upwards and her sobbing begins dieing down. She stutters out, “Haha! L-Look at us. One day and I’m crying in your arms.” I turn and stare at her, “Some days mean more than others. Some days carry weight. We’re the lucky ones who get to decide where that weight comes from.” She smiles as another fresh tear falls from her face, “Yeah. I guess we do.”

I let her go. A smile forms on my face before I stand and turn towards the door. The small pitter patter of my steps is interrupted as Kinsley says, “Thanks Ariak.” I ball my fist and hold it high without turning around. My mind buzzes while I quietly walk across the room. The creaking of the door closing ends our conversation completely, and I take heavy steps into my room. I sit on the floor and go through my things. A small skyquartz necklace my father gave me falls from my pack. It’s rough texture refracts bits of moonlight leaking in through the window as I twirl it in my fingers. My fist balls tightly around it before I grab a book from my satchel and open it. I whisper under my breathe, “We all lose things. It doesn’t mean all is lost. It can’t mean that.”