Back in the Wayward Rat, on one of those tables people picked when doing shady stuff or in a particularly broody mood, sat four people with drinks in hand. One looked comfortable, in his element, almost as if sitting on such tables was his job and he had been doing it for a lifetime. The other three, however, were looking around and shifting, as if hot coal were lit beneath their seats. It could’ve simply been because of the establishment itself and its reputation, or the piercing gaze of the undead woman behind the bar, and her reputation. Or, perhaps, because they felt like they were sitting before someone strange and dangerous. The exact reason was unimportant.
***
The shadows were falling just right to get Sunday in the mood for spooky stories and acting like a proper ass. He had gotten another smokey drink. It had just the right amount of peaty goodness and spice to make his undead palate sing with joy. He had yet to feel any effects of the alcohol, but Riya had assured him that getting drunk as an undead of his caliber, whatever that meant, would take time, patience, and deep pockets. He had neither of the first two, and he had decided to be stingy with his funds for the time being.
Nevertheless, he had been generous enough to get the trio before him large tankards filled to the brim with something called Pink Flower Wine – a decently cheap drink, running a copper apiece, made from one of the flowers growing around the lake. It was quite foamy for wine, but judging by the faces of the surprisingly shy ‘bandit leader’ whose bare feet were uncomfortably shuffling beneath the table, and that of the younger girl who had insisted on following along, it was delicious. The rest had been sent home, wherever home was.
Vyn had calmed down somewhat and he had put on his usual face – carefree, and ready to chat the night away. He was appreciating the drinks Sunday had gotten them quite a bit.
“So, first thing’s first. You already know who I am, at least in name. And I know Vyn. Let’s do this the right way, tell me your names and something interesting about yourselves.”
There was an awkward pause as Sunday took a sip of his glass and sighed in contentment all without breaking eye contact with the humans before him.
“Something interesting…?” the girl repeated quietly.
“Yes. When I first met Vyn, he was gracious enough to recall his first time with a whore for me in quite great detail. It surprisingly helped me warm up to him, so I think it’s good to continue the tradition,” Sunday grinned.
The two instantly turned toward Vyn, glaring with what Sunday assumed was a mix of annoyance one would feel toward the shenanigans of a big brother, or a close friend. This gave him further proof that their relationship wasn’t simple. Now it remained to be seen how much they would lie.
“Name’s Safie, or Saf. I like archery and animals… I’m not very good with either yet,” the girl quickly said, trying to hold Sunday’s gaze.
Sunday nodded. “You’re the lad that almost took my head off back on the road.”
That made her eyes narrow. “I’m no lad!” She protested.
“I can see that much. How about you tall guy?”
The ‘bandit leader’ hesitated. There was no sign of the tough act he had tried and failed to put on earlier. There was only a showing of his youth and discomfort. Not that Sunday assumed he was older than them, but they didn’t look like experienced dwellers of the alleyways. Perhaps former sheltered kids who had fallen on tough times? It was very plausible considering what little he knew of the Empty Manors inhabitants. He made a mental note to ask around. Having multiple sources of information on one subject was a great way to ensure a better understanding of the situation.
“Name’s… uh…Koberic.”
That’s a mouthful. Not that I’m one to talk. “Koberic. What do you like to do in your free time other than rob honest people?”
“We don’t rob honest people…” Safie protested.
Sunday shook his head. “That’s your mistake. Dishonest people are tougher to rob. And they will fall lower than good honest folk if comes down to getting dirty. They won’t run to the guard allowing you to hide behind a wall of bureaucracy and incompetence. Always choose the honest folk, or you might suffer.” Or as Old Rud called them, the plump piglets.
Safie looked as if she was soaking each word while Koberic opened and closed his mouth in futility.
“Look, Sunday,” Vyn interjected with a pleading expression, “I’ve underestimated who or what you are. The fault lies in me. For trying to use you, or for not being completely honest, I apologize. Don’t you think it’s a bit… too much? All the tension? I know we met today and you have no reason to care, but they’re just innocent kids, let them breathe.”
“We’re not kids!”
“We’re not…”
Sunday met Vyn’s grey-blue eyes. “Where I come from trust is expensive. But as far as I see it, you’ve done nothing to my detriment. You had one thing right, and that’s the fact that I can be useful to you. I have a particular… way of seeing things, so to call it.” Because I come from a place far, far away… “And you have something I gravely lack.”
The trio looked at each other and when he didn’t continue leaned forward awaiting Sunday’s next words. He took a sip, letting them stew in curiosity. Suspense could make human minds reach strange conclusions just to fill the void of information.
“Knowledge of the world,” Sunday continued slowly alternating between their eyes, “How does it function, who reigns supreme, what are the rules, and what are the dangers lurking beneath the veil of normalcy? My first few weeks haven’t been the most peaceful, and I’ll be quite frank, I need to grow. Fast. I don’t know how much time I have before trouble comes knocking again.”
He saw Safie lean in and whisper something to Koberic. The man’s eyes grew as wide as hers and both stared at Sunday with a mixture of sudden fear. There was a hint of anticipation in the eyes of the girl too.
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Vyn leaned over as much as he could and looked around before speaking. His words were whispered and Sunday strained to hear them. “Do you – do you come from a burial ground?”
A burial ground? That has been mentioned a few times. Technically, the graveyard I appeared in with this body could be considered a burial ground. If it can explain my utter ignorance of everything, so be it.
“I think so…” Sunday slowly confirmed. Gasps came from Koberic and Safie, while it was Vyn’s turn to lose composure. However, he took a few deep breaths and nodded, more to himself than anything.
“I knew it. No knowledge of the world, no scars or wounds. You look like a highborn, but unlike any I’ve seen…” he muttered.
“And the presence,” Safie added. “It’s like talking to death itself.”
Is it truly that bad? Sunday hadn’t noticed anything peculiar about himself. Jishu had, but Jishu had also been a crafty bastard with too much experience under his belt. First, I need to understand what the burial grounds are. Doesn’t sound like it will be that easy. If I pretend to be from there, that is one of the things I should be careful of asking. One day my questions will bite me in the ass. I just know it.
“What burial ground is nearby…” Koberic muttered to himself.
“You’ve always been sensitive Saf,” Vyn swallowed heavily before turning back toward Sunday. “I can’t help but agree that something drew me in from the moment I saw you lying on the road…If that is so, then you… Undead from burial grounds are usually… Are you a mage?”
Did the way I act today give it away? I haven’t used spells in front of them. Sunday sighed, “I dabble.”
“Oh, fuck me…” Koberic quietly exclaimed. “Then… back then… you were about to…”
Safie had put her hands on her mouth and remained like that as if the realization that he had been about to use a spell on them was too much. Vyn, on the other hand, went through a few different emotions and Sunday watched him with interest. Shock, fear, panic, then light in his eyes as if he had an idea, and finally, a manic grin that made even Sunday feel uncomfortable.
“Have you registered? Can you take on jobs? No, we just came to the city today. We should go!” Vyn said with a bit too much enthusiasm.
“Calm down,” Sunday snapped. “I don’t exactly know what you’re talking about, and I think it’s my turn to get some information. Tell me more about yourself and the Manor, Vyn.” There was no room for negotiation in his tone. He had given them enough to work with, now it remained to be seen if it was a mistake. He caught sight of Riya, whose eyes kept roaming their way occasionally. Isn’t she interested in our little group? Or has she taken a liking to me? Even dead, I’m quite handsome…
“Right. Sorry.” Vyn calmed down and then looked at the other two. Seeing their state, he steeled himself and began. “The Empty Manor, as I mentioned before, is a place that houses many orphans and rejects who had to flee their homes for one reason or another. They are no criminals, but no heroes either. Sometimes people have to do bad things and so do I…” Vyn hesitated, “What separates me from them is my goal which is to cross the belt separating our region from the next.”
He looked at Sunday as if expecting some sort of a reaction. “What’s that?” Sunday asked.
Vyn blinked, then ran a hand through his hair. “The belts are zones of danger usually separating the regions. They’ve broken up our world so trade and travel are quite hard without escort. Some specialize in doing just that, usually powerful magi or spellfused, but I’m neither. I can’t afford to join a proper expedition. I tried on my own with a few other fellows a few months ago…” Vyn seemed to pale and his hand shook around the tankard of wine at the memory. His next words came strained. “Most died. We stood no chance.”
That seems to have left a mark. And what the fuck is a spellfused? For each answer I receive I get two more questions to ask.
“There are many useful things in the belts, or fallen lands – the small ones that don’t act like borders are called that.” Vyn quickly explained. “Each is different. But I’m not a treasure hunter; I don’t do it for spells or riches. I do have some unresolved debts here and…” Vyn let the words trail off... The wine seemed to help loosen his tongue. Riya knew what she was doing. “My sister lives somewhere beyond the belt, and I want to find her. Don’t ask me more, because I won’t tell you.”
Sunday raised an eyebrow. He could respect that. “Fair enough. That doesn’t make me understand why you lot had to put on a show on the road pretending to be bandits. It seems even sillier after some of the things I just learned.”
They blushed at that and Vyn sighed. “That… was my idea of how to make a name for myself, and perhaps some money for the road. Connections too. No one will hire me, especially no one trying to cross the belt. Beating a few bandits would be the start of making myself known. Uncle Emiel has a big mouth, contrary to his appearance. Then I’d be able to join a merc group or something, do odd jobs, and eventually… you get my point I hope.”
“I see.” Lord have mercy those people are more lost than I am. I wonder, is Chaotic Step just throwing me at the fools of the world as some sort of cosmic intervention, or am I the sucker being made use of. “What does me being a mage have to do with that?”
Vyn’s eyes lit up while the other two seemed frightened by the very mention of the word ‘mage’. “You can register with the Arcanum and do work for them. And I can help! Once you are strong enough and reputable enough, you could easily arrange for passage!” Vyn paused, as the realization set in. “That’s right. The Arcanum is a mage organization. As far as I know, they collect information about spells, map the world anew, and connect magi of all kinds. It has great reach and resources.”
Sunday remained stoic, but the news was welcome. He needed something like that to help him. An organization around magi and spells… there is a lot to be gained. I hope they’re not the type to hold short leashes because that’d be a deal breaker. It seems like magi are very important.
“And why would I do that?” he asked.
Vyn seemed confused at the question, “I mean, this is one of the poorer and weaker regions. Don’t you want to get stronger? To grow?”
Who doesn’t? But the price of strength is important too. “Sure, I do, but so far all I’ve heard is how me joining that Arcanum can benefit you. Not your friends, or me for that matter, apart from the hints you dropped. And let me just assure you that while I’m quite a decent guy when I can, I’ll not be putting myself in harm's way for someone I just met. I’m thankful you brought me here, but even that was for your benefit.” Sunday calmly said, dousing the enthusiasm burning in Vyn. “By the way… what makes this place important? This tavern. Her.”
Sunday watched them throw wary glances toward Riya, who had mercifully turned her back on them.
Vyn shuffled even closer. “The Wayward Rat is rumored to be a special place. We’ve been trying to get in for a while... It is protected at the very least. No one will make trouble for me or you here. I don’t know the details, but I know there are jobs, and they pay well. It is another path I’ve wanted to try. After some of what I saw from you today I thought you weren’t simple, so… I risked it. Riya should’ve had me thrown out or worse, but she didn’t because of you. She has great judgment, and I trust my intuition.”
Sunday fell silent. And the web unravels. Nothing and no one is simple. A hidden hand is pulling my strings and I wonder if the talents are just chains around my neck. What would happen if I just walked away from it all? From Vyn or this tavern? Will Chaotic Step just throw me back here, or in an active volcano? Then again, I have choices. I could speak with Riya, work on making it on my own, or check out the Arcanum. I can probably manage all of it. Duality seems to be my kind of thing.
“It seems,” Sunday said slowly after taking his time to think things through, “that there might be a future for us, after all.”
He had a great idea of how he could quickly put the fortunate souls sharing his table to use. All that remained was testing a few things.