“Quill”, Aren said as they made their way out of the Shattered Egg, “My memory’s failing me, can you remind me who’s up next?”
“Seras de Valas; she’s Mexain. I told you this morning. Remember?”
“A… bit? We should be going. Walk and talk?”
“Okay.”
He shuffled out of the way while he held the door open for her, which resulted in him being in quite a unique and uncomfortable position for a few seconds until the woman passed the threshold. Once she had, he let the door go; it closed with a dull crack behind him. “Why”, he asked, “Do you want to talk?”
“Earlier, Trici being in all of this was bugging me,” Aren replied after a second of loud silence, “It does seem like she has a genuine reason to be in our ‘pact’. I relaxed. I let it go. But, now I wonder, ‘why you?’, Quill. Do you know?”
Quill hesitated, similar to Aren a few seconds ago, for just a moment before he opened his mouth to speak. “We’re supposed to be talking and walking. We’ll be late if we don’t start moving. But, honestly, I don’t know. I’ll let you know if I think of any reason.”
“Even the outlandish ones?”
“I might secretly be a demon who is traitorous to my kind whose memory was wiped and replaced by my king who will cause an incident if need be and a vote for allyship or armistice comes to pass.”
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Some unrecognizable emotion flickered across Aren’s face. “Anything that isn’t ridiculous? I asked that question seriously, Quill. For all we know you are a pawn of your nation. If there’s a reason that might be the case, then tell me, no matter how unlikely.”
Why, Quill thought, is she suspicious of me?
…
Quill’s non-answer was amusing, but it was also annoying. Aren did truly want to know the why? of Quill’s raison d’etre. It was clear what it was- to stop any diplomatic negotiations with The Evil before it ever started- but why did the Sterlir king choose him?
The street before them, Greensborough Street, had a wonderful aroma. Here on ground level, it was like you could smell every sweet, sucré, or sour odour imaginable. Similarly to an hour ago, it swept over Aren, calming and soothing her. Her question to Quill was caught in the wave and dragged out of her mind. It could be figured out later.
“The child,” Quill said, “From earlier; the one you gave your pin to. Are they truly going to be well, like you told them?”
“I hope so,” Aren said. Even the sweetest scent couldn’t wash away her worry that Dodeca would not be okay. “I gave them my pin, so they should be able to get some help from Zinnia or Marin. Even in the worst case scenario, they can sell it for some money that’ll help get them on their feet.”
“You’re not worried about them?”
“Of course I am. But it is nothing that I haven’t seen before, nor is it anything I haven’t seen someone get on their feet from.”
A silence fell over them after that. Quill quietly noted when they needed to turn, but other than that they merely walked with none of their promised talk.
…
Even though Aren had seen it thousands of times from this exact angle, the embassy always surprised her with its beauty. The tall and ornate yet monocolour walls of the monolith had their appeal, but one could only ever see it for a few seconds before it disappeared behind the blocks of buildings.
It reappeared minutes later once Aren and Quill reached it. They went their separate ways and gathered with their separate people. Their separate people mingled back into each other and waited with bated breath for the bells to toll.
They, of course, would. Seras de Valas would speak and Quill and Aren would get a brief reprieve from having to play defence against the treaty-wanters. It would at long last be time for them to take up a charge of their own against the treaty-wanters’ lines. One could only hope that they would falter.