While Jeanne left the room she felt a sharp pain in her side, she gripped it tightly, wincing in pain. Leaning against the wall, she waited for the pain to subside and ebb away before moving again.
“Everything all right,” she heard Cid ask from behind her.
She nodded, turning towards him. “Yeah, just still sore from the other day.”
“Don’t push it too much,” Cid said, “we don’t want you breaking yourself again before we’re back on the road.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” she asked him.
He stared with a blank face.
“Yeah, I deserved that one,” she said.
“Also, I think Maeryn is down stairs. It might be a good if you went down there and talked to her.”
“Fuck me,” Jeanne said, “do I need to?”
Cid gave her another blank stare.
“How about you break another rib and we call it a day?” Jeanne offered. “I have two that are soft and tender. And I’ll throw in a punch to the face to sweeten the deal. We both know you’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
Cid kept his gaze on her.
“But why?” Jeanne asked. “I haven’t said anything mean to her.”
“You’ve done everything else to make her think the whole affair was her fault.”
“She let two petty bandits get a jump on us and Kel damn near died. She should’ve heard them before they readied their bolts.”
“And myself as well,” Cid said, wiggling his ears. “Or are we forgetting that fact for convivence’s sake?”
Jeanne opened her mouth to respond before stopping. She looked at Cid, grimacing and grunting before lowering her head. “I’ll go talk to her,” Jeanne said as she turned around.
“And be nice,” Cid followed.
“I’ll be fucking pleasant,” Jeanne growled.
“And don’t do that thing you do when trying to smooth things over.”
“What thing?” Jeanne replied, thoroughly confused.
“You know, that thing you do that everyone always gets annoyed at.”
“You are not helping narrow down this list, Cid,” Jeanne replied.
“You know, that flibbertigibbet thing you do when talking to people.”
“The hell is a flibbertigibbet, and why I am dealing with it?”
Cid waved the comment away. “Oh, you’ll figure it out, I have the utmost confidence in you.”
Cid went back to his quarters as Jeanne turned away, her upper lip twitching as she tried to process the conversation. “This has to be some divine retribution for something I did,” she told herself, “It just has to be.”
Jeanne went downstairs to the dining area of the tavern, the smell of mutton roasting on the spit touched her nose. She hummed with tempered enthusiasm before checking her coin purse to see how much merliah she had on her. Pulling a few coins, she reached the bar and waved the barkeep over. A halfling with straight brown hair, save for a few cowlicked locks. He had darkened skin and sported well-worn clothes. Though despite appearing a little worn, was in good spirits.
“How can I help ya?” he asked, finishing up cleaning an empty tankard.
“I was hoping for a tankard of mead and a pit of that mutton,” Jeanne replied, lightly jangling from golden merliah in her hand.
“Right,” the halfling said, looking back at the roasting mutton. “I think that should be about three silver hermals and four copper huguns.”
“Oh,” Jeanne said, pleasantly surprised. Placing a merliah down and sliding towards the halfling. “That should cover everything.”
“Right away,” the halfling replied, moving to get her order.
Jeanne turned and spotted Maeryn, sitting by herself at a table. The elf was still working on a piece to cross stich, but was beginning to grow flustered and unable to focus. Jeanne grimaced slightly, turning away and let out a low, muffle grunt. She turned to the halfling. “Can we make that order for two?”
“I can get the drinks now, but food might be a while,” the halfling replied.
“That’s fine,” Jeanne said, taking two tankards and walking them over to where Maeryn was sitting.
Maeryn didn’t notice Jeanne’s arrival at first. And then barely looking up at her before turning back to her work. “I thought you might want something to drink,” Jeanne said hesitantly.
Maeryn said nothing.
“Also, I thought you might want to take your mind off of things for a spell.”
Maeryn looked back up at Jeanne, turned away to then let out a sharp exhale and nudged with her head to a chair nearby. Jeanne placed the two drinks down and too her seat. Maeryn kept her gaze on the frame in hand, looking more uncomfortable than before.
“So,” Jeanne said, tapping her foot beneath the table nervously. “What are you cross … stitching?”
Maeryn took a longer breath. “It’s a bogle,” Maeryn replied. “A creature from where I’m from.”
“You mean in general, or specifically where you called home?” Jeanne asked.
“Why are you asking?” Maeryn asked.
“You know, some people say something is from where they called home, and then you find out they were never actually near where the creatures are. So they’re going off of what they heard, and not what they actually experienced, and then you have people who were from the location proper.”
Maeryn stared at Jeanne. “This isn’t something you do normally, is it?”
“The small talk?”
Maeryn nodded her head.
“That obvious?”
Maeryn nodded. “A blind man could see it.”
“Oh, that’s not good.”
Maeryn put the stitching wooden frame down and turned to Jeanne. “What is it you’re doing?”
Jeanne puffed her cheeks out a bit, tapping on the table a quick moment. Trying desperately to think of the best words to say. “Cid really makes this look a lot easier than it is,” she said regretfully. “All right. I know I have been … hard on you since the skirmish. And … I wanted to say … I’m sorry.”
“This is really hard for you isn’t it?” Maeryn asked, looking at Jeanne directly.
“I am not used to doing this, at all,” Jeanne said, shaking her head. “Normally Cid is the one smoothing things over. I’m the one causing situations for him to smooth over.”
“And he isn’t now?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t like it.”
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Maeryn took a deep breath and placed both her hands on the table. “Well, I can’t say I’m great at conversations myself.”
“I’m just nervous that I’ll say something stupid and then start a fistfight before the food gets here,” Jeanne said turning back to try and find the halfling.
“I’m almost done,” the halfling said, behind the counter, a hint of worry in his voice.
“By the Shepherd, how the fuck does Cid do this all the time?” Jeanne asked aloud.
“Was that to me or was it one of those hypotheticals people keep asking for no reason?” Maeryn asked.
Jeanne stared ahead for a moment. Trying to think for a second. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how to answer that one.”
“Oh … well, so much for that joke then.”
“I …” Jeanne said before putting her hand on her forehead and let out a disgruntled growl. “I know … you didn’t mean for Kel to get hurt. And I know that I’ve been a prim and proper bitch about the whole thing.”
“I’ve never heard of that phrasing before,” Maeryn said, looking puzzled.
“It was something our one of our old lieutenants used to say about me, it sort of stuck over time.”
“That seems a little rude for an officer to say about a subordinate.”
“I’d normally agree, but I can be a prim and proper bitch. And Kel … he’s the closest thing to a family I have left. So … I acted in a way unbecoming of my own in this outfit.”
“You don’t have kin?” Maeryn asked. “Parents, siblings, anyone like that?”
Jeanne looked down to the table, her head hanging low. “Not anymore.”
“I … I didn’t know,” Maeryn said, pulling back a bit.
“Not exactly something I advertise on the first meet,” Jeanne replied.
“Fair,” Maeryn said. “I can’t imagine I’d be in a bad state if one of my perthtyngu were hurt.”
Jeanne lifted her head up. “What?”
“Oh, sorry. Perthtyngu is what we call sworn kin. Someone who isn’t a blood relation but is still considered family.”
“That makes a lot more sense,” Jeanne said, taking a long sip from her tankard. She turned to see Maeryn returning to her cross-stitching as their food was being served. Jeanne eyes widened at the savory mutton with mashed potatoes and sliced carrots resting on their platter.
She heard Maeryn’s excited voice say, “This is meal most needed.”
Jeanne chuckled. “For the briefest of moments, I was afraid I ordered the wrong thing.”
“What do you mean?” Maeryn asked as she put a piece of carrot into her mouth.
Jeanne held her hand up as she finished chewing on a piece mutton. “Hmm, back in the company, there were a few elves who didn’t eat meat. I can’t remember why exactly. It was either a religious thing or their actual diet. But they wouldn’t eat meat.”
“Was that a problem for the others?” Maeryn.
Jeanne shook her head. “Not really, usually there was a farm or port nearby where we could get plants or some other means to feed them. Usually, they were capable in providing for themselves. Besides, not like you need a lot to make a salad in the first place.”
“Depends on the salad,” Maeryn replied, clenching her teeth to keep her food from slipping out.
Jeanne pointed her knife towards Maeryn, making a tapping motion with it, “True, very true.”
“I saw one a while back, I couldn’t tell you want was in it.”
“Those always have me thinking there’s something wrong with it.”
“One time, this was back when I was still a Bladehunter in Tirlloeger, my lord was entertaining guests, and there was this dish prepared for them, which spouted out gas.”
Jeanne immediately choked on her food, dropping what was in her mouth on her plate and turning to Maeryn. “You’re shitting me!”
Maeryn began laughing, trying not to choke on her meal. “No! There were plumes, that pfft noise you hear whenever someone farts, and by the goddess the smells were horrendous.”
“Where did these people come from?”
“Somewhere far away, honestly I was more concerned with keeping everyone from trying to kill each other to remember where half the guests and dignitaries hailed.”
“Fair enough,” Jeanne said, finally finished with clearing her throat. “That was one thing I hated about guard duty at parties. Half the people there were drunk enough to start a war, and the other half was drunk enough to consider the idea.”
Maeryn shook her head. “There was this one time, I think this was my first … no, second time I was on guard at one of those damned affairs. And this man, from the Kingdom of Gunterlin, would not stop trying to show everyone how much culture he had acquired.”
“Oh, Shepherd no, not one of those,” Jeanne said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“All he did, was just reference song after song, play after play, book after book, as if it was impressive to anyone.”
“How popular was he with the other guests?”
“One almost severed his manhood when he kept demanding to know if his daughter was a ‘true woman’.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“I knew not, and refused inquire further.”
“I’m surprised he made it out in one piece.”
“Not for a lack of trying,” Maeryn said, “Three lords had to be removed for him to leave unharmed.”
“Was he ever allowed back?”
“Gods no! I don’t think there’d be peace in the land he returned.”
“Well, maybe he found himself some woeful soul to listen to his drivel until they remove his tongue.”
“I would’ve done it for free,” Maeryn replied.
“So, what brought you out here?” Jeanne asked. “You seemed to have had a fairly decent thing going back home.”
“I don’t suppose the ‘wanting to see the world’ line would world?”
“I mean, it’s not without some merit. But I didn’t get that sense with you.”
“You’re not wrong,” Maeryn said, taking a long swig of her drink. “I don’t suppose you’ve kept up on the goings on back home in Prydeninsula?”
“I’ve tried not to,” Jeanne replied somberly.
“Well, let’s just say The Host of Great Night decide to roost in many of the nook and crannies of our charming little home.”
“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but we’d both know that’s a lie.”
“I saw many friends turn on each other. Some fighting their own kinsmen. All of it for nothing more than gold, a killing to boast, or listen to lamenting song of broken hearts mourning loved ones.”
“That’s the way of the world sadly. Always praising the godhood of brotherhood until it stands in the way of one’s want. And then everyone is killing each other wholesale. Shepherd’s guidance, it isn’t a year if some damned war isn’t started for a stupid reason in Anguland.”
“Still, I couldn’t partake in drawing my blade against my kin. Not if I had a choice in the matter.”
“I thought bladehunters weren’t allowed to leave Tirlloeger?”
“We’re not,” Maeryn said darkly. “Abandoning our lord, and our duties is considered an affront to our royal house and our people.”
“Should I ask what the penalty is?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Good old hang, drawn and quarter.”
Jeanne recoiled sharply. “Not messing around, are they?”
“No,” Maeryn said, “Not with that.”
“Do you think that would ever be rescinded?”
“I doubt it,” Maeryn said, taking a sip of her drink. “That’s one problem with elves having long lives. You don’t have the luxury of slights of honor being forgotten after a generation or two. They tend to remember those with great clarity.”
“I remember hearing about a whole holy war between one elven kingdom over some jewels?”
Maeryn nodded. “I know that one The Rhyfelysau. Over ten generations devoting their lives to near constant slaughter. And in the end, what was fought over was destroyed in the process.”
“Almost poetic if it wasn’t for the death toll.”
“Almost,” Maeryn said, taking another sip of her drink.
“How long have you been a mercenary?” Jeanne asked.
“I stopped counting the years a long time ago,” Maeryn said. “Long enough to where even if I returned home, it’d be nothing more than memories.”
“I guess they never talk about that when discussing elven longevity.”
“Not really,” Maeryn said. “Most try to paint this picture of us being greater than we are. Doesn’t help a lot your kind tend to run into those who have an extraordinary air of superiority to them.”
“I think goes for the vast majority of those born into the noble class,” Jeanne said, putting a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
“Very true,” Maeryn replied, “but it doesn’t help when they can trace their bloodline to when elves and fae were considered one and the same.”
“You mean they’re not!” Jeanne said, feigning surprise. “Those damned curs!”
Maeryn chuckled. “I can’t say I know our histories well, but from some of our myths, the two were very close together. But how much of that is truth and the other conjecture and allegories, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Can’t say we haven’t the same with our pasts,” Jeanne said.
“Like I said, you move through a few generations, details and the like start to fall through the cracks. Many of my kin still recall with great clarity the events which drove us all apart.”
“I can imagine it’s not an easy thing to go through.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“How do you cope with it all?”
“One day at a time. One drink at a time. One kill at a time.”