Asrael had quickly become accustomed to the hurried taps of broken, tattered shoes on the city’s cobbled streets as he wandered the unknown territories- deeper into Pilta’s busy centrum. Fine men and women looked at the dirty trio wandering in between their fanciful stores, but neither the tall, pale necromancer nor the small, round driver let their eyes stray from the path ahead. None could see Ellie’s dark eyes from beneath her wide-brimmed, lazy, moth-eaten hat, but she could still feel them- those judging glares.
“Keep your hat low.” Asrael warned as their street opened up on the central plaza- by the trickling fountain before the clocktower with its many Inquisitorial soldiers. She silently acknowledged his order with a nod. She could hear them atop the tower, where their armors rattled with every scrubbing movement... then and there, she wished above all else that her mother would’ve been alive to tell her it would all be well- that justice would win and that the terrible men- the ones that had pinned her down and-… She gritted her teeth and nearly stopped dead in her tracks.
A wash of guilt rained down on her as she began her free-fall descent into the self-loathing spiral that had become her constant companion. she remembered how foolishly she had devoted herself to Gerathar- how his hands had soiled her with his warm touches. Her breathing became labored- her chest began to ache with an obscure, welling panic as she could see his hands and smell his fragrant lips beneath the brim of her hat.
A gruffy voice spoke from over by the fountain. “Hey! You there-” Ellie froze. She could feel her bowels threaten to let loose their loads as the clattering armors stepped closer. Gerathar... these men... her mother... the citizens glaring at her from every side- it was nearly more than she could handle. Her knees tremored, her hurried breaths made her head spin with a profound panic.
“You look like out-wallers. Have you passed inspection?” One of the men spoke from beyond her hat. This was it. They had somehow heard her thoughts- read her mind and seen her sins... soon, she would find herself a victim of the men again. She raised her hands to her face and prepared to scream- at least she could inconvenience them with some volume, but before she could... A pair of long legs with dusty, blue pants stepped before her to speak:
“We have. If you’ve any questions, take them up with Bartholomew Sargerrei. We are his guests in Pilta.” Asrael sounded as calm and darkly as ever as he rose to his substantial height and looked to the armored men in their purple tabards. Her heart slowed- her shoulders sank in the uncomfortable silence that followed- a silence that seemed to choke the life from the plaza and leave only the trickle of the fountain’s water still audible. The man on the right sniffed and spat on the cobbled street before rising up to the challenge to ask;
“Perhaps we will. What are your names?” Asrael scoffed with what Ellie found to be unusual, daring confidence and said: “Kerras. We live in Kester’s tavern. If you cannot find the good Duke’s brother, then I suggest you ask Titus himself. I will be sure to do the same... what are your names?” He questioned. The second soldier- the one a good pace beyond his confident partner, cleared his throat and shuffled nervously on his feet. After a moment’s deliberation, they both shrank down for the first to say;
“I’m-… I’m sorry. Please move on. Forget we bothered you.” Barrel released his panicked breath and nodded agreeingly before stepping in between Asrael and the man to say: “It ain’t no thang. Mistakes happen, ‘specially when we go ‘round lookin’ like this. We off to a tailor, but we dunno which un to go for.” The second, more hesitant man leapt on the chance to be of use to the respectable visitors and offered: “W-well, Yohanna’s Garment’s just up the streets... she does men and women’s clothing- the best in the city, or so says my wife.” He raised a hand to point his gauntleted fingers up the street.
Asrael grabbed Ellie by her arm and led her in the man’s direction without pause, whereas Barrel was left behind to speak to the two and offer them a complimentary meal at Kester’s tavern- just for the two of the diligent men, if... they promised not to speak a word of the compliment. Eleanor was wide-eyed with amazement at how calmly- how smoothly their interaction with the guards had gone. The panic that had threatened to choke the life from her a moment previous was now but a fading memory in the safe clutches of her Master.
“T-thank you...” She whispered beneath her breath, but if Asrael had heard her, he made certain not to let it show.
----------------------------------------
Yohanna’s hands had been different from Gerathar’s as she measured her body- clinical... joyless... kind. Still, it had been an uncomfortable venture- having her measurements taken by a stranger while Asrael stayed out in the tightly packed storefront and beheld a few of their dresses for what Ellie gathered to be his least favorite companion- Neda. Once she had been clothed back in her dress, she joined him in the wood-paneled shop, but stopped to look at herself in a tall mirror.
The girl looking back at her felt... different. The dark, long, black hair hung over her shoulders and partially obscured the bagged, black, lifeless eyes. Her pale cheeks accentuated the freckles of what had once been a happy face- a face that would so often smile. But now... she imagined it would never do so ever again- how could she, having been so broken?
Over her head, she could see a pair of green eyes glare at her from further away. He was as devoid of expression as she was- he was as joyless... as damaged... as she was. Ellie could tell- she could hear it in his voice when he spoke and in his step as he walked. The only difference was; he was strong enough to do something about it- to spread his inner misery to the world and make them pay for what they had done to him.
The finely clad, tanned, blond tailor spoke from the counter: “It’ll take a few hours to adjust for your measurements. Feel free to seat yourselves upstairs-” Asrael stepped towards the door and spoke over his shoulder: “No. We’ve plans. We will return soon.”
This was the first she was hearing of any plans, but she silently followed after her Master back out onto the sunlit streets to see him glance either way before beginning his stride down, back towards the plaza. He glared one of his green eyes over his shoulder- towards the timid girl following after him and said: “We need supplies for the Agent and old Kerras left us enough gold to buy some basic alchemical apparatuses.” Though her eyes wished to stray to view the tall windows displaying baked goods and fine clothes, she maintained her focus on her Master as he led the way down towards what had become his supplier.
He paused to shudder and explain: “Alchemy... A foolish discipline that pertains to manipulating the magics in fauna and flora to produce concoctions or items with varied properties. It can be useful...” He spoke the words with a poorly concealed bitterness- awakening the question... why would he be seeking this equipment, if he so distrusted it? He continued leading her into the shop, but paused at the doorstep to inhale and strengthen himself enough to meet the two long, robed, elderly apothecarists inside.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Ellie had been to a place like it before- not in the plaza, but out in one of the more affordable wall-proximal districts. Upon seeing their displeased customer return, the two elderly apothecarists shot one-another a disapproving glare before forcing their smiles: “Ah, Kerras... welcome back. Do you need more needles?” Ellie could smell the varnish on the warm, wooden paneling that housed tall stacks of medicines meant to cure everything from parasites to unwanted pregnancies. As Asrael continued towards their glass counter, she stepped off to the right to read the many shelves of varied liquids and herbal remedies.
He locked eyes with the female- the one he had learned to be the harshest barterer, by far, and spoke: “I need equipment. Instruments to distil and perhaps a cranked pestle.” The woman’s gray eyes lit up at the prospect of parting the unnervingly pale, surprisingly rich man from more of his precious coin.
The man pulled back his hood to reveal his wrinkled scalp and scratched his chin with a conniving smile. “Oh? Equipment, you say? You do realize that alchemical equipment is regulated- The Duke cannot allow alchemy to take root in his Great City, can he?” Of course not. He would rather have his citizens drink whatever snake-oil you sell the regular populace. Asrael forced a smile and bit back his billious outburst.
“Yes... well... so are several of the other items you’ve sold me thus far.” Asrael reminded the elderly pair. The woman sat down on the chair beyond the counter and leaned back to run a hand through her thin, white hair and grin menacingly towards him.
“There are limits to what we can agree to sell you. Our instruments are meant to produce medicine, but if one of our alembics were to go missing and a week later, there would be potions about... that would raise some unfavorable questions.” Asrael scoffed and motioned for the tall stacks of snake-oil.
“You have enough rose-water to keep you halfwits afloat until next fall, when Death will have surely claimed both of you. Now, tell me your price.” The elderly woman did not disagree with him- they had about one hundred crates of the same-scented, same-flavored bottles of ‘medicine’ down in the cellar. All they needed do was put whatever they wished on the tag- both in regards to price and what ailments it cured and they could restock whatever anyone would ever buy from the pair. Ellie stood off to the sides- peeling her ears attentively while listening to their hushed conversation. For all the things Asrael knew to do, it seemed the tactics of the trade were new to him, as revealed by his hunched shoulders and the lack of his commonplace confidence. Should she not interverene... she imagined it likely Asrael would suffer from a terrible deal. A stray glance from the elderly man- that look of pity provided her the motivation she needed to take the initiative.
The elderly woman scratched her chin- swallowing down the same observations Ellie had. Had she told him the truth- that their instruments hadn’t been used since long before her man was strong enough to box their goods up, he might not have been so eager- so impatient before her counter... which was exactly what she needed him to be, should she secure a good price from him. Ellie drew all their attention as she cautiously walked up to his side to put a pair of vials down on the countertop and took a step back to bow and ask: “H-how... how much?”
The elderly woman raised a curious eyebrow and looked at the bottles she had produced. Her lips parted in a slight gape as she dreadfully realized that one flask proclaimed its effects against unwanted pregnancy, whereas the other was meant to empower a man’s libido.
“Little girl... these medicines are for adults....” She muttered. Ellie remained still for a demonstrative moment before bowing even lower.
“Y-yes, I know... my mother was an apothecarian. She taught me how to make these medicines, but I-… I do not have the equipment to do so. And-…" The two elderly shot one-another a bewildered glance, whereas Asrael’s eyes widened with shock and equal bewilderment- what was the girl attempting?
“I wish to make certain Sir Kerras is happy... he carries a great burden taking care of me- the least I can do is pleasure him without the worry of bearing him a child... for as long as my coin lasts, I can keep him happy- it is the least I can do.” Asrael’s jaw fell agape as she spoke the terrible words- basically calling him a deranged pederast in front of these two people. Before he could step up to strike the girl, the old man broke from the lengthy, uncomfortable silence to glare at Asrael and say:
“Whether you take care of the girl for your kindness or for your perversions, I-… I have seen the interior of Pilta’s orphanages... I do not think anyone would agree to what you are doing to that girl, but nor could anyone agree to what goes on in those facilities...” Asrael opened his mouth to speak his fluster, only for the woman to interrupt him:
“You disgusting fiend- is that what you are doing with these supplies? Torturing this girl with your depravities?” Ellie bowed once more and again stilled Asrael’s flustered lips:
“N-no, you misunderstand... he is a gentle lover. There is nothing depraved about what we do- we love one-another... after my mother died, he took me in and cared for me like none other would. H-he hesitated at first, but I had my way with him in the end... I only wish I could be of more use to him. As you can see, he is very sick and-...” She paused to sniffle before continuing: "as I do not have the equipment to make him the proper medicine, I will do what I can with the rest of the time we have together." She rose up to smile at him- striking her Master with awe at how naturally- how smoothly she feigned such an honest joy and infatuation. It even served the melt the elderly couple’s hearts.
The woman eventually sighed and spoke to her man: “Get them what they need, dear. I will discuss the price with Sir Kerras alone.”
----------------------------------------
Ellie stood outside the storefront and twiddled her thumbs- her mind aflame with doubt at what she had done. No-… it was right- the only way she might’ve gotten him what he needed. The bell rung from next to her and as she looked up, she saw the bewildered Asrael stare down at his large supply of paper-wrapped instruments with confusion. Next, he looked over towards her and attempted to formulate a question, but to no avail. He was genuinely flabbergasted. He beckoned her further down into the alleyway.
As she shamefully followed after his heavy steps, she muttered: “I-I’m sorry... b-but... they wouldn’t have committed a crime for us unless they thought we were criminals, too... my mother taught me that bartering is not at all unlike fighting.” Once satisfied they were alone in the alleyway, he turned around to look at her- still with a raised, disbelieving eyebrow and questioned:
“So, you reduced me to a pederast? Might you not have said we were thieves or highwaymen- you had to liken me to that fiend?” To his continued surprise, she broke from her shiness to loudly claim: “You’re not like him!” An uncomfortable silence ensued, before she gathered enough courage to continue.
“T-the best lie is one that’s partially true. Y-you might not like me, Sir, but I-I-” His look of disgust spoke volumes of his own emotions. He raised the brown parcel in his hands and spoke: “Gods above- do not go on. In fact, we will never speak of this ever again-” She bowed her head deeply and cut him off:
“I-… I feel safe around you- safer even, than I did when my mother was alive. T-the things you said-… even when I lived with him, I was always ashamed of my magic. But you’ve shown me see that it can be used for something glorious. I do not care whether you like me or not- in fact, I’m expecting you to hate me every bit as much as I do. But you can’t tell me not to love you for what you’ve done for me. No one can.” He squeezed his eyes shut with strain and took several, deep breaths to steady himself. He could kill her- slam her little head against the brick wall and splatter her brains across the apothecary’s storefront. It would save him from future embarrassment, but the girl was revealing her utility in more ways than one.
Her deft hands were one thing, but manipulating that detestable, elderly couple was a strike of genius- a genius he would be better off fostering, rather than splattering over a wall. Though he did not agree with her methods, he could not deny that the objects in his hands were, unexpectantly, his now- and for a fraction of the price he had imagined he would have to pay for it. The girl... could have her uses. After a moment’s pause, he scoffed and turned around to head back towards the tailor with a mutter over his shoulder: “Do as you please... But I assure you, I am no lover.” She nodded in agreement and excitedly followed after him with a mutter of her own:
“I do not want you to be one.”