By the time Marcus and Reigna have parted ways on the other side of the swamp, it’s midday. The early morning haze has begun to clear up and that autumnal chill has all but given way to warm afternoon sunlight. Reigna removes the heavy coat and returns it to her bag. Lyraax takes the opportunity to fly ahead and scout out the road. From where she walks, Reigna can see the mountain itself, the road up and over it flanked but the leaf bare trees that eventually give way to coniferous evergreens. A steady stream of puffy white steam lazily twists and dissipates into the air above what appears to be the mountain’s summit.
The road itself is still empty. The exodus of travelers and traders from Ambria a week earlier barreled their way to wherever their next destination was and made good time considering their faster mode of transportation. I don’t think I could justify a whole cart of carriage for just myself and Lyraax. She thinks, walking on the wheel tracks of one of the carts that passed through a few days earlier, her arms spread out as though it were a balance beam. Besides, it would just make us look like a more enticing target.
Having never been to Hammerheim before now, Reigna wasn’t entirely sure where the city’s entrance was actually located. It was common knowledge that the city was built within the mountain itself, but no one she’d met who’d been there even mentioned which cave network led into the city proper, just that the city itself was quite the sight for first-timers. If I’m lucky, Lyraax will return with good news and an idea as to where we need to go. As if on cue, she cranes her neck up in the direction of the sun as it approaches its zenith and can make out the pearlescent azure gleam of Lyraax’s scales.
“Anything interesting or problematic ahead?” She asks as he lands and stretches across her shoulders.
“No hazards or hooligans this time around, thankfully.” He says with a mixture of relief and frustration. “There is a line, however. Seems as though it’s their Caravan Day.”
Caravan Day is an important time for many towns and cities. Several of the major mercantile associations send out groups of merchants together via seafaring vessel or airship with various wares to travel and sell or exchange goods. Typically the route begins in a neutral place like Alexandria where all the merchant’s goods are examined and assessed then a major air-liner like The Argus Limited or The Queen’s Accord takes them to Ambria where they disembark and begin their trade and they travel from west coast to the east in Rsha where they board another ship and make for Port Atreia before heading to Regulus and, eventually their circuit ends back in Alexandria.
The merchants stop at most if not all of the smaller towns and major cities which keeps their economies rife with magical imports, alchemical reagents, and for towns like Ifrita, who usually have to send people to the larger cities due to their dangerous or inconvenient locations, this means getting access to resupply of basic necessities that wouldn’t normally be available like fresh produce, long-term storage devices, and raw materials for repairing or forging tools.
“Oh well, that’ll make finding the entrance easy at least.” She laughs. “About how long until we see the line?”
“We should arrive at the back of the line by nightfall and be into the city soon thereafter.” He assures her.
By nightfall, as predicted, they arrive at the back of a long line of merchants and traders. Hundreds of them from all over the world. Elvish winemakers, Dwarvish armorers, mages and alchemists, hunters and tanners, spice traders, you name it. Plenty of carts lined end to end and flanked by men and women holding torches and wearing immaculate, gold-trimmed armor emblazoned across their breastplates in a golden sword wrapped in flaming angel wings. The Aurelian Knights. The Knights, known by some as The Golden Boys, is officially registered as a mercenary organization since they don’t have the formal backing of a government or a religious order, however unlike other mercs, The Knights specialize in public outreach and mutual aid.
Typically they mobilize to assist at-risk communities or small towns in dangerous locations with things like arresting and removing bandits, slaying monsters, and delivering medicine and food to townships and villages in need. Perhaps they’ll escort the merchants to Irfrita after this. Reigna thinks. As she’s about to take her spot in line, something catches her eye. “That can’t be.” she says, mostly to herself. Lyraax raises his head in an attempt to follow her gaze. Standing beside one of the merchants is a young man with slightly pointed ears in a long, blue coat. Slung across his back is a hard black viola case. His straw-colored hair gleams like gold in the dancing firelight.
His frame is husky and round, between exchanges with the merchant, he flashes a genuine and excited smile. His cheeks have a youthful roundness to them which is betrayed by the sharp angle of his chin and nose giving his face a spade-like shape. He sports a patchy goatee and a pair of deep, coffee-colored eyes. He appears, to Lyraax, to be a jovial and sociable young lad.
“Will!” Reigna calls out as she sprints towards him. The young man stops mid sentence and turns toward her. As she approaches at near mach speed his face goes from confusion, to recognition, to pure, unbridled excitement.
“Rainy!” He yells back, running to meet her. In an instant before they collide headfirst into each other, Will throws his arms out towards her and makes a small beckoning motion with his hands. Reigna is instantly lifted up into the air above some of the merchants in line and the knights lining the road. A few sounds of surprise rise up from the crowd as she is gently brought down into Will’s outstretched arms. He places his hands gently against her sides and gives her a delicate spin before pulling her into a firm, warm embrace which she returns in kind. A few of the nearby knights cat-call and whistle as the pair take a moment to simply be in the moment.
“My goodness Will, did you miss me that much?” She asks, pulling away from him.
“As much as the desert misses the rain and celebrates the first roll of thunder.” He says, his voice airy.
“Still a charmer, I see.” She laughs.
“Sometimes, but that’s more of a part-time gig.” He chuckles back at her. “How have you been, Rain?” He asks, coming to stand at the back of the line beside her.
“Honestly, that’s a hard one to answer.” She says, pondering a concise way to explain things.
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to think it over.” He says flatly, hooking his thumb over his shoulder towards the line. “It’s been like this for hours.”
“For hours? Why?” She asks, staring past him at the line.
“Some limp-wristed profitmonger tried to smuggle contraband into the city so now everyone in line has to have their cargo examined by the knights at the entrance and have their manifests and ledgers confirmed before entry. It’s taking quite a bit of time.” He sighs. Sliding a small knife and a cured sausage from a pouch on his belt and cutting two slices from it, offering one to Reigna.
“What was the contraband?” She asks, popping the sausage slice into her mouth. Ooh, sweet fennel and cracked pepper.
“Dragon scales.” He says, taking another piece into his mouth. “Of all the fucking places to try an smuggle dragon scales, they picked the one city run by a damn dragon.” He says, shaking his head and holding out a canteen to Reigna
“I have my own water, but thanks.” She says, producing her flask from a pouch. “They’ve either got titan sized testicles to pull a stunt like that.” She says
“Or bean sized brains.” Will says, wiping his mouth with a small cloth and sipping from the canteen. “It’s wine, by the way.” He says, offering it again.
“Oh, what kind?” She asks, taking the round, brass plated canteen from him.
“Whatever you prefer. Neat little enchantment in my opinion.”
“Where’d you get this?” She says, taking a sip from it. The rich, hoppy taste of the stout served at The Silken Page in Alexandria washes over her tongue.
“I ghost wrote a love song for some nobleman’s son in Regulus to use as a proposal.” He shrugs, taking it back from Reigna and taking another swig.” He was moved by it and he paid me out the initial commission with this little guy as an added bonus.”
“Wow, that’s a sweet deal. Although, considering that romantic poetry is your specialty, you practically swindled the poor boy.” She says, stepping in to lightly nudge him with her elbow. “Does it only produce alcohol?” She asks.
“Thankfully, no.” He sighs, dramatically. “It was from the boy’s personal collection. It produces whatever beverage or scent you’re missing most.”
“Scent?” Reigna pauses, staring at Will for a moment.
“I seldom use that feature.” He says with a wave of his hand. “That kid was using it to recreate the scent of his beloved’s perfume.” He grimaces at the thought.
“Oh, that’s really weird.” The thought of that makes Reigna cringe. “You did say seldom though.” She teases. “So what do you smell when you use it?” She asks.
“Little things mostly.” He says, his eyes suddenly overcast. “My mom’s lamb stew, the tobacco my grandfather used to smoke, the dorms back in Lake Syrril.” He says softly.
“Oh, so you never try to reach out and get a nostalgic hit of me or Jasper?” She teases.
“Once or twice.” He admits, looking to one side.
“Oh.” Reigna can’t think of anything else to say at that moment. I thought he’d just play along and lie to me.
“I use it to recall the smell of smoke at that one show that Jasper put on back in junior year.” He laughs.
“Oh, the one where they almost burned that gaudy headdress off of Astra because she made a snide remark during their presentation?” She says, the memory clear as day in her mind’s eye.
“Yeah, the very same. The whole room smelled like cinnamon and red wine for days after that.” He laughs.
“And for me?” She asks, curious, but a bit nervous.
“The smell of the oils you massaged into your dress the night before the ball. You know, the formal one where they were teaching us about high-society etiquette?”
Reigna thinks for a moment, trying to recall the dress, the evening, anything about that night but comes up short. “I don’t remember much about that night.”
“Oh.” He says, his voice trailing off into the muffled grunts of discontent of the many merchants around them. He seems bothered by that, I wonder why? Reigna thinks to herself. Oh, dear lady, your theatrical prowess is matched only by your ineptitude in matters of the heart. Lyraax’s voice hums within her head.
She pauses for a moment, her eyes locked on Will’s face. He’s standing in front of her staring off into the night, past one of the knights holding a torch beside the road. His eyes catch the gleam of the torchlight and he blinks slowly, taking another sip from the little brass flask. As he twists the cap shut again, a small, sad smile plays at the edge of his lips before he turns his head to look up the road, over the sea of heads and carriage tops.
Oh, no. A familiar sense of embarrassment, and dread crashes down on her like a lead-lined curtain. That was the night he confessed.
Yes, it was. He poured his heart out to you and despite having written and recently performed a whole song about that night, you forgot. Lyraax chides, his voice in her head is a melodic whisper.
Reigna reaches for Will’s shoulder as the merchants ahead of them begin to shift forward. He turns to say something to her just as her hand touches him.
“Oh, hey, looks like we’re moving.” He says with a grin and nods towards the shifting crowd. As he tries to take a step forward, Reigna pulls him back slightly. “Hey Rainy, you okay?” He asks, turning to look up into her eyes.
“Will, I’m sorry.” She says after a moment’s pause. She watches his eyebrows contort in confusion for a moment.
“Sorry for wha-” He pauses, realization flashing through his eyes mid-sentence. “It’s okay, I’m not upset.” He says, his voice low.
“No, Will, I’m sorry I forgot about that night. And there’s a lot I think we need to talk about.” She says, hesitantly. It’s all going to sound like an excuse. She thinks, her heart sinking. You don’t get to make that decision, dear lady. Lyraax chimes in. You tell him what was and still is in your heart, he decides what that means.
“Well, let’s talk about it over a drink then?” He says, tipping the little canteen in her direction. “Preferably a real one from an actual pub.”
“Deal, it’ll be my treat.” She says, falling into step beside him.
“Ooh, Rainy’s making money these days?” He with a small jab to her ribs. “Alright miss Moneywart, it’s all on you then. Gotta warn you though, I have my mom’s alcohol tolerance.”
Once they reach the gate, one of the knights, an older bald man with a clean-shaven face, looks them over.
“Travelers?” He asks, producing a small notepad from a pouch on his belt.
“Bards, sir.” Reigna states. “I’m here to deliver a parcel for repair.”
“I’m just here to stay for leisure and perhaps to perform for a few days.” Says Will, opening his case to display his viola and bow to the old knight. The man looks it over and nods, before handing each of them a bracelet made of leather cord with a collection of black and red beads strung around it.
“Don’t lose these or take them off while you’re inside.” The man says as he secures them to their wrists using an intricate collapsing knot. “Enjoy your stay.” He says with a curt bow.
Once beyond the gates, they’re blasted by a gust of hot air which subsides after a moment. Reigna looks down to see that the beads on the little trinket are glowing and slightly vibrating against her wrist, maintaining a stable temperature around her. Despite the magic, that initial blast of air was enough to leave her face drenched in sweat, causing her hair to stick to the side of her face. Ugh, great.
Ahead of them lies a wide bridge made of heavy red stones. At least, the stones look red due to the ambient light from the bubbling pool of lava churning down below. The bridge arches up into a gradual slope and comes down on the other side to a large, hexagonal platform, easily the size of Ambria at its widest point. The platform hovers where it is, as though sitting atop a series of support pillars, no movement disturbs it or any of the many structures atop it. People walk the streets, the merchants nonchalantly cross the redstone bridge without a single care or thought about the danger below.
From the apex of the bridge’s slope, they can see just above the tops of some of the buildings, many of them are fashioned from the same red stone, in the center of the city is what appears to be a fountain, surrounded by benches and the carts of local barkers. On the other side of the plate is a collection of stairs that lead to what appears to be a large, glimmering anvil and a forge fed by a gravity-defying pillar of slow moving magma. Standing beside the anvil talking to a Dwarven man is a Dragon.
Because of the height of the platform where he stands, he can be seen even as they descend the slope of the bridge. On two legs the dragon stands as tall as some of the more impressive structures Reigna has seen in Ambria and other cities. His scales shimmer with the glitter and allure of everything golden.
“This place is nothing like I expected from the stories.” She says, her eyes scanning the buildings that they pass.
“Oh yes, Hammerheim’s construction and Architecture is on par with places like Regulus and Mae’Andel.” Will gushes. Here he goes. Reigna internally sighs, trying her best to withhold a smile. “It’s said that Hammerheim was made as part of a pact the first Dwarven Council, known as The Brothers Of Stoneheart, made with Furnax The Forger.” Will continues, stepping carefully through the more narrow streets and guiding Reigna down an alleyway to a less crowded thoroughfare. “Originally, they called the city Magna Furnax or The Great Furnace, but a few generations down the line, the Dwarves felt it wasn’t paying homage to their ancestors who helped build it so they agreed to rename it Hammerheim.” Reigna nods along to his explanation, watching his face light up as he expounds excitedly about the city’s history and how the magic that stabilizes it was integral to the elevation of Regulus during The Founder’s Conflict.
Stolen novel; please report.
“I’m sorry Rain,” he says, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “I’ve been here so many times, but I’ve never had company, I should’ve asked before going into this whole dissertation about this place. I’m sure you’d rather I not bore you with all those details.” He says, shrugging his shoulders and verbally retreating into himself.
“Will, I don’t mind listening to you talk. This is my first time here so it’s nice to learn something.” She says, clapping a hand against his shoulder. “It’s like I have my own personal tour guide. Now, where are we getting that drink?” She asks.
Will stands there for a moment, tapping his chin with the tips of his fingers pensively. “Well, how much do you wanna spend?” He asks, his eyes scanning a nearby stall selling grilled meat and vegetable skewers.
“Well, my income is a little more liquid than it has been so a tiny splurge could be nice.” Reigna says, tucking her hands behind her back coyly and casting her gaze down the road at nothing in particular. “I do need to keep some cash for the next leg of my journey, wherever that takes me.”
“Well, if you want some place cheaper but still good, The Bedrock Bottom is a good one off the main market street.” Will starts, he flashes two fingers to the woman running the stall and slides her a few coppers. “If you want something very high class, in the town center there are a few really good places like The Burning Hart, but that seems excessive.” He hands her a skewer and bites a charred bell pepper off the end of his.
“Well, the last place I went to gave me a letter of recommendation and suggested a place called Tooth & Claw.” She says before blowing on what seems to be a sizzling piece of chicken and taking a bite. Oh, that’s pretty good. Needs salt though.
“Tooth & Claw is a pretty nice middle of the road place in the city center.” Will says around a hunk of roasted beef. “I heard before that sometimes Furnax visits the place in disguise, but that’s just a local rumor.”
“Well, why not?” She says, chewing on the end of her now barren skewer. “If they accept the recommendation, would you be down to duet with me?” She asks, a hopeful smirk turning up the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah, I’d like that actually.” Will muses softly, twirling the skewer between his fingers. “Drinks before or after the show then?”
“Before.” She says quickly. “I’d rather not get caught up in the excitement and forget what I wanted to say.”
Will nods and motions for her to follow him. “Well, let’s go then.”
They follow the brick roads through Hammerheim past smithies and armor shops and small restaurants. On one of the wider streets is a large, four tiered building which Will explains is a temple to Hephaestus, a God well revered by the Dwarves of Hammerheim. Their congregation is one of craftsmen and tradesmen and between their training and the processes used by some makers in the city, armor and weapons of all kinds are significantly cheaper here. The city’s economy is held steady by mercenaries, artificers and alchemists. Even the faith in Hammerheim must contribute to both their economy and the defense of the city. The temple offers its forge and resources to apprentices learning their craft in order to avoid interfering with the production of the local businesses.
Hammerheim is also one of the only major kingdoms that Rsha will purchase weapons from. While certain magical processes may be used to manufacture weapons and armor, they are not enchanted items. Rsha, as a nation specialize in anti-magic combat and weaponry. Hammerheim’s crafters are the best for fine, mundane weapons.
Will’s tour guide exposition stops abruptly as they reach the town center and he guides Reigna to Tooth & Claw, which they passed during his exposition. The building is two floors carefully stacked atop one another and framed with dark, lacquered wood used for support beams, window lattices and the main door to the establishment. The light from within filters through the honeycomb lattice across the windows, in a place that gets a more natural night lighting, the bar would look almost like a lantern filled with fireflies from a distance. Inside, the bar is loud and crowded. Long banquet style tables are filled end to end with merchants and tradesmen all either talking about business or fighting for elbow room after a few too many drinks.
The tavern’s stage area has been neatly packed away to accommodate a few extra tables. The counter is manned by an old Orcish man in a well-worn leather vest with a brown shirt under it. He’s grinning at a Dwarven woman sitting at the bar with a neat chinstrap beard. He’s missing one of his tusks and his hair is intricately braided with one larger braid running down the center of his head with two tusks protruding from it like the spines of some sinister rockfish.
He Spots Reigna and Will as they walk in, whispers to the woman at the bar before refilling her cup, and comes from behind the bar to welcome them.
“Good evening folks.” He says, his voice rough and gritty but with a polished diction. “Sadly we’ve no table space right now, but I can recommend a few places if you’d like and I can provide a voucher for the inconvenience.” He says, reaching for the pocket of his vest.
“Do you have any rooms available?” Reigna asks. I would really like to sit down for a bit.
“We just might, let me confirm for you, miss.” He bows before ascending a staircase to the second floor.
“Rooms?” Will asks, plunging his hands into his pockets and trying his best to stand where he won’t bump into anyone.
“I have some business to take care of here in the city so I might be here a few days.” She says before pointing to the stage. “Plus, it doesn’t look like we’ll be playing here tonight.”
Will simply shrugs. “Hey, your money, your choice.” He laughs.
They try to navigate to a more convenient part of the room, primarily to get from between the tables and away from the door. After much careful repositioning and more than a few unheard apologies and small bumps into other patrons, they find themselves in the southwest corner of the room near a window with a direct line of sight to the staircase. From where she’s standing, Reigna can just barely see the hallway of the second floor, a few of the doors in the hall are open and people appear to be moving back and forth between them with drinks, plates of food, and scrolls of parchment. Contracts or shipment manifests more than likely. She ponders. Will stands in front of her with his back to the crowd, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of the daze.
“Are you okay? You looked like you were about to start drooling.” She asks, raising her voice above the cacophony of the over-capacity tavern.
“Oh, yeah. I’m alright, just a little tired.” Will says, shaking his head. “This is just a little over stimulating right now.” He looks up to meet her gaze then sets his eyes back on the non-specific place on the wall behind her.
A few moments later the Orcish man descends the stairs and Reigna raises her hand to wave him over. He responds by waving them towards the door and stepping outside. She nudges Will and guides him towards the door. As they’re maneuvering through the crowd, a man stands up suddenly from one of the tables and slams into Reigna.
“Hey, watch it you half-blood bitch.” He growls. He’s a squat, pot-bellied, human man in fine robes. His round face is accentuated quite unflatteringly, by a receding hairline and a few follicles clinging desperately to what she assumes to have once been a widow’s peak.
“Hey, watch your mouth, you ruptured sausage casing.” Will fires back, his words laced with verbal vitriol, but thankfully, not magic.
“What’d you say to me, fat boy?” The man slurs. He’s about ten past the hour if I had to guess. Reigna’s shoulders sag.
“It’s fine Will, leave him be, he’s just drunk and dumb.” She says with a sigh, trying to edge him towards the door.
“Who are you calling dumb?” The man says, his glassy, rat-like eyes clearly trying to figure out which one of her he should stare at.
“No one at all good sir, I was asking my friend to apologize.” She says, Will watches her thumb two gold coins from her pocket as she speaks, the coins vanish and for a moment, the man’s eyes glaze over as Reigna’s spell hijacks his already deficient mental state.
“Well, I’m waiting then.” The man says, crossing his arms and standing up straight, or at least whatever passes for straight to him at the moment. Reigna claps her palm into her face and pinches the bridge of her nose before casting Will a glance. Please just humor me and get this drunk fuck out of my face. Will looks at her unamused gaze then back at the drunk merchant, a mischievous twinkle dances across his grey eyes like lighting before a storm. Oh fuck me.
“I am sorry.” Will begins. The man’s eyebrow cocks smugly. “I’m so sorry you woke up this morning and clearly caught yourself a case of whiskey dick, and decided that to make up for your erectile malfunction you’re going to inflate your sense of entitlement and make it everyone else’s problem that your wife, or husband, let’s not assume, is disappointed in the standard you’ve set in the bedroom.” Every sentence out of his mouth is carefully layered, a collection of effects compounded on one another to break the man down and deter him from further action. I’ve seen him do this before, but something is different. She thinks. Something about the way he’s constructing a particular scenario as opposed to just well-placed insults.
“Now, if you would kindly, sit back down, you insufferable buffoon.” Will hisses with a flick of his middle finger and thumb, as though he’s flicking a bug from a table. An almost imperceptible needle of green light darts from his hand and hits the man square in the chest. Before he can muster a retort, his body goes limp and he collapses to the floor like a ragdoll, colliding with two other seated patrons on the way down.
Once outside the bartender pulls the two away from the door so as to not block it and hands them what looks like a check slip.
“Unfortunately we’re booked solid for the next couple days while the merchant caravan is in town.” He says, apologetically. “However there’s another smaller tavern near the Barracks called The Lavaspur. My boss called ahead and they have two rooms waiting for you, this voucher is for the inconvenience. Your dinner and stay there is on us tonight.” Will takes the voucher from the man and he and Reigna offer the man a polite bow of their heads.
“Thank you very much sir.” Reigna says. “We’ll do well to not sully the good name of Tooth & Claw while we’re there.” She jests. Both the bartender and Will laugh before the larger man saunters his way towards the door.
“Best of luck, you two, I’d love to get to serve you before you leave so please do check back.” He says with a wave before retreating back inside.
As they begin their walk towards the district where the barracks is situated, Reigna abruptly swats Will’s shoulder with the back of her hand.
“Ow,” He yelps, mostly from surprise. “What was that for?” He asks, carefully tucking the voucher into the breast pocket on his blue coat.
“For making that scene more difficult than it needed to be.” She replies, her voice a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. “You owe me two gold by the way.”
“What, he gets to insult you and I’m just supposed to play along and apologize?” He says, verbally digging himself in. Stubborn as a mule, this one.
“Will, I appreciate you sticking up for me, I always have.” She begins, gently squeezing his shoulder as they walk. “But I have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met. With how my karmic account seems to be set up, There’s going to come a day where I’m going to need something and that balding fuck is gonna be the person I need to get it from.” As she speaks, she can see Will unclench his fist and slowly exhale. He stops and closes his eyes for a moment.
“I’m sorry for the trouble Reigna, I’m just tired of meeting people like that.” He says, his eyes locked on the ground as he resumes walking beside her. “I’ve been around in the last couple years and I’ve seen how bad some places get and it makes me sick every time, and you and Jasper had a lot of issues back in Lake Syrril so I get a little defensive.”
“Will, we’re all adults, and while I appreciate it, I don’t need you to protect me from the words of drunken morons.” She throws one arm over and around his shoulders and leans against him as they walk. “Just be more careful next time.”
Will wraps his arm around her waist and sighs. “Alright, fine. I’ll follow your lead next time.”
“You still owe that two gold though.” She says, pulling away from him with a chuckle.
“Can we call it even if I teach you the spell I used to knock him on his ass?” He asks, flashing an exaggerated grin.
“I think that’s more than a fair trade, actually.” Her tail flicks excitedly. “Especially considering recent events.” At that, Will gives her a concerned look. “I’ll tell you on the way.
With Will’s guidance they navigate elaborate geometry of the city streets, the district around the Aurelian Knights’ headquarters is divided into blocks carefully labeled and categorized as residential, commercial, and military sectors, some overlapping with others. Many of the tenements and businesses share spaces and have three to five stories from ground to roof. Along the way Reigna recounts her recent experiences to Will. The strange dream and potential kidnapping in Ambria, the fight against the Hangman’s Tree, and her meeting with Death himself.
Once she’s finished her tale, Will scratches the back of his head, clearly at a loss for words. Lyraax confirmed that Reigna had in fact died that night attempting to escape the tree. I hope this doesn’t sound too crazy to him.
“Dear Lady,” Lyraax says, gliding from her shoulder to hover before her eyes. “Why is this the first that I’m hearing about this encounter with the strange man in Ambria?” He asks, his narrow eyes locked on hers. Will simply watches their staredown without a word.
“I thought it really was a dream.” She shrugs. “I woke up feeling a bit hungover, but I had figured that’s what it was. A simple hangover.”
Lyraax lands on Will’s shoulder and gestures in her direction. “Do you see what I have to put up with? I leave for my monthly sabbatical and she waits for almost two weeks to tell me about this.” He says, his eyes wide.
“Rainy, I gotta agree with Lyraax here.” Will says as they turn a corner. “This is pertinent information, who knows what that guy could’ve done to you.” Reigna stares the two of them down for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Sweet siren songs, it’s like traveling with two old ladies. Next they’re gonna start asking me if I’ve been eating enough.
Reigna takes in a deep breath and holds it for a moment before puffing out her cheeks and slowly exhaling through pursed lips. “Alright, well now you both know about the winged ruffian who whisked me to the basement and back. Any ideas as to who he could be?” She asks, her eyebrow twitching with mild frustration.
“Well the only detail you could recall is that he had wings with gold edges.” Will says, tapping his index finger against one of his coat’s buttons.
“And that you were injected with a glowing crimson liquid.” Lyraax adds, perching himself on her shoulder. “Neither of which mean much to me.”
“Great so none of us have any useful ideas on the matter.” She replies flatly.
“Not at the moment.” Will concedes. “Do you plan on asking Furnax for assistance while you’re here?”
“I had intended to see him about another matter, but no reason why I can’t ask about both.” She says, trying to avoid that line of questioning further.
Eventually the trio find themselves outside of a three story building, its exterior is surprisingly plain when compared to Tooth & Claw. A simple wooden sign hangs from an iron pole protruding from a post just above the door that reads The Lavaspur in gold text. Inside, the little tavern is warm and inviting. A collection of circular tables are arranged in a zig-zagging pattern across the front-of-house with a green carpet lining a straight walkway between them. The Bar area has a dozen or so stools mounted into the ground, each an arm’s length apart with a small, glass orb floating over them. To the westernmost side of the room is a lounge area with soft looking chairs and a long coffee table situated before a crackling fireplace. On the easternmost side of the room is an old high-back piano with a bench and a few sheet music stands and some square stools stacked atop one another.
Behind the counter is a set of swinging doors that lead back into the kitchen area, a window for finished orders to be placed, and a low counter beneath it which is adorned with three coffee syphons that resemble lab equipment, two steel tea kettles, and a collection of tightly sealed glass jars with wooden spoons affixed to the outside by little strings. Each jar has a label with a one or two word descriptor of its contents.
The woman standing behind the bar is a human woman in her middle ages. Her hair is cut into a neat blonde bob and she has a little green pencil tucked behind one ear. A portion of her brown cotton blouse is covered by a heavy, black apron with a series of small pockets situated across her waist. Her cat-like green eyes scan the contents of a cupboard above the main bar counter as she reaches into it.
“Welcome in.” She says without looking away from her task. “Find yourselves a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The tavern is entirely empty and quiet, save for the sounds of her rummaging in the cupboard and the occasional clang and chatter from the kitchen.
Reigna, Lyraax, and Will seat themselves in the lounge area near the crackling fireplace. Reigna throws herself down into one of the soft armchairs, the cushion beneath her is plush and covered in fine leather upholstery which sighs under her weight as air escapes it. Being off her feet brings into sudden relief the soreness of her feet and the stiff aching of her knees and calves. She throws her bag to the floor beside the chair with a dull thud as Lyraax comes to settle in her lap like some needlessly snarky old cat.
Will, by contrast, carefully undoes a buckle for his viola case and gently places it beside the chair he intends to sit in across from Reigna. He shrugs off his heavy blue peacoat and drapes it over the back of the chair, revealing the gold vest and red shirt beneath. He bends back slightly, flexing his shoulders until a loud, porcelain-like crack, pop! Escapes his bones. He exhales a sigh of relief before turning and finally sitting down.
They sit in quiet bliss for a few minutes before the cat-eyed woman approaches. She hands each of them a glass of water then stands with her hands on her hips glancing back and forth between them.
“Welcome to The Lavaspur, my name’s Marie and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.” She says with rehearsed professionalism. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
“Do you make cottage pie here?” Asks Will, reaching into his coat to fish for the voucher.
“Aye, we do.” Marie nods. “And a damn fine one if I may.”
“Oh, wonderful!” He exclaims, handing her the little stub. “I’ll have that with whatever you recommend of your brown ales.”
“And for your love?” She says to Reigna as she examines the voucher. “Ah, you’re the pair El’Mar had called in about. There are two rooms ready for you on the second floor. Laundry and bathing are downstairs.” She motions to a little door on the side of the staircase.
“Actually, I’ll have the same. It’s getting colder out there so it's the perfect season for a hearty meal.” Reigna says with a grin. “And another for him.” She adds pointing to Lyraax who raises his head to meet Marie’s gaze.
“Right then, I’ll get those drinks for you then.” She bows and steps away.
She eventually returns with a tray containing three tall flagons of brown ale, the open mouths of the jugs are each rimmed by a bubbling foam that smells of barley and hops. Alongside the flagons are two average sized tankards and a smaller, almost child sized one, presumably for Lyraax. They nod their thanks to Marie as she retreats to the counter. They rotate their chairs and scoot them closer to the little coffee table so that they can see each other better.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about Rain?” Asks Will as he pours each of them, and Lyraax a drink.
“Well, back then you told me you were in love with me.” Reigna starts, verbally probing the floor ahead for eggshells.
“Yeah, and you told me you specifically prefer women.” He says simply before taking a sip from his cup. “Ooh, that’s good.”
“Yes, and that was, er, is true.” She fumbles for a moment. Will continues to sip slowly from his cup, arching his eyebrows at her over the rim of the tankard. “It’s true that I am really only into women, but there was another reason I didn’t tell you. Honestly, I’ve never shared it with anyone.” She pauses to take a long drink from her cup, draining half of it in one gulp.
Will puts his cup down on the table and clasps his hands together nervously. “Alright, I’m listening. Gotta admit, the suspense is killing me here.” He jokes, a quivering smile attempts to cross his lips.
Reigna takes a deep breath, “When I was young, my family traveled around a bit. We basically lived out of a horse-drawn carriage.” She stares blankly into her reflection on the surface of the ale in her cup. “My parents left me in Orion with a family friend, I used to call her Aunty Morgan. They both said they loved me and that they’d be back.” She pauses, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I never saw them again after that.”
Reigna finishes her first tankard and Lyraax carefully pours everyone another round from the flagons at the table. He watches Reigna intently. Will is looking right at her, a glint of pain flickers in his eyes as he takes another sip and waits.
“Eventually, Aunty Morgan got really sick and eventually passed away. Before she died she told me that she’d managed to find out where my father was.” She pauses for a moment, gritting her teeth. “He lives in The Medusa Cascade in a town called Port Atreya on one of the main islands. But my mom isn’t with him.” She throws her head back and downs the whole tankard this time. “I was so afraid when you confessed to me that night because everyone who says they love me, tends to leave me.”
She looks up at Will, tears welling up her eyes. “You’re one of my best friends, Will. I just-” She blinks a few tears away. “I didn’t want to imagine a life without you or Jasper back then and now I-I”
Will gets up from his seat, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from quivering and throws his arms around her shoulder. “Reigna, I promise you, so long as you let me I will stay by your side. You’re one of my favorite people in this whole world and I never want you to feel alone.” She can feel his body convulse as a few warm drops tap against her shoulder.
She stands up and wraps her arms around him, pulling him close. All the while leaving a little dark patch on his left shoulder. She can hear Will softly whispering to her as his hand reassuringly pats her back, “You’re not alone Reigna, you never were. Not in Lake Syrril, not here.”