Part 1 - In the Tavern

In the tavern are many wines – the wine of delight in colour and form and taste, the wine of intellects agility, the fine port of stories and the cabernet of soul singing. As three companions shared their spirits and their spirits, they felt the wineskin of ego break and the pouring began.

Clio recounted her studies and trials at the Pantheon with only the slightest embellishment. Plied with the taverns finest drop she wove stories into stories until every detail was painted large and wide as a temple fresco.

She blamed her Dwarven heritage for the intricate and lengthy telling. The truth of her heritage was clear in her height and the endearing roundness of her pale face. With gentle ribbing and encouragement, Clio bounded through her recollections, vibrating with charisma. She never vied to be the center of attention, but she did love it when she found herself there.

Daphne laughed freely and smiled constantly. She seemingly bore no baggage that so often accompanied one cursed with the marks of a Tainted. Though, she did bear the marks: Light pink skin covered everything below the curving ebony ram horns that adorned her head, down to the tip of her snaking tail. Holding mulled wine to warm her hands and her heart she joked and jested until her companions were just as jovial as herself.

Kai mostly watched. His heart was full. The two people he loved most in the world were happy, healthy and by his side. His jokes came half as frequently, and his stories lasted half as long as his companion’s. He preferred to listen. To hear their joy added to his own, and on occasion he’d do what he could to return the favour.

As an Aquan, the novelty of Terran life never ceased to entertain him. Just the same, Kai found himself to be a novelty to most Terrans. From the way he talked and what he wore, to his cerulean, seal-like skin and gills. As Clio began a third backstory to one of the “quick things” she had to tell them, and Daphne poked harmless fun, Kai just sat and smiled. He nursed mead, thick and sweet as he was himself. Most of all, he enjoyed it, being lost in that moment. He felt a weight slide easily off his shoulders as he listened and drank and laughed.

The rest of the tavern shared that energy. Losing themselves in the evening until everything else was naught but a faint memory. Not all evenings were like this, but they were becoming more frequent. Such a thing often happens when an incorporeal feeling of foreboding scratches at a collective’s sixth sense. They bury their heads in revelry as though it were sand, and hope for the dread to blow over. For most that night, it did just that.

Not all creatures were like this, but for Matu – those mortal races that include but are not limited to Humans, and Aquans, and Elves – it was most often true. In contrast, the wild creatures – animals, and beasts, and birds – listened keenly when the Mother Huntress whispered her warnings. Even an imagined feeling of danger would have a herd of antelope on the move in less time than it takes to pour a mug of wine.

Matu, for the most part, are not like this. So, when Godly whispers or instinct urged Kai to leave the tavern, he did not. He nestled himself deeper into his chair, took another long draw from his mead, and laughed doubly loud at Daphne’s next joke to push instinct and Gods from his mind. If he had known what was to come, he would have listened to instinct then and there, but he did not. Instead, he played the part of the ignorant fool with a trouper’s grace and drank and drank again.

Death blew through the tavern on a cold wind and was welcomed like an old friend. The door slammed opened. Silhouetted in the entrance stood a traveler framed by fog and lamp light. He was wearing an emerald chiton with gold lining and an expensive fur cloak. His walking staff was well polished, its head adorned with amber. The pleasant din of merriment shut off quickly as all heads turned to the figure. Then, the traveler announced:

“A gift from my master. A round of drinks for all with ears to hear or eyes to see.”

His accent was thick and foreign. His choice of syntax, old and musty, like lines chosen from a history tome. Though, no one paid that any mind as he walked with heavy, uneven steps directly to the bar and dropped a jangling purse on the counter. A cheer erupted. Clio, Daphne, and Kai added their voices to the chorus. They toasted between themselves and drank deeply, unaware that the stranger was making his way to them.

“By chance, are you the Triumvirate, Daphne, Clio, and Kai?” He said in his thick accent when he arrived at their table.

Surprised, the three companions looked to one another. The Triumvirate was the name their small party had recently acquired. In truth it was a well humoured joke that had begun catching on among the surrounding villages.

The true Triumvirate had existed in another age: Three incredibly powerful individuals who had saved continents, battled Eldyr Children, and made deals with gods. In comparison, their Triumvirate had warded off wolf howls without ever seeing the wolves, and escaped a particularly nasty boar which skewered itself on a fortuitously placed tree limb.

“We are.” Daphne said eventually. “How did you recognize us so quickly? I can’t say I remember meeting you before now.”

“My master has sent me a great, long way to request your aid. If you be the heroes of the stories that are told, please lend your aid in this dire time.”

“You don’t actually believe we’re the true Triumvirate of old, do you?” Kai clarified. Daphne kicked him under the table.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“I and my master know the truth of your bearing.” Confirmed the man.

As the Triumvirate looked to each other, all equally confused, the traveler reached into a fold in his cloak and produced a sealed letter. He placed it down on the table between the companions and took a seat next to Daphne. As Clio accepted the letter, she noticed a foreign brand in the wax that held it closed. She showed the brand to Daphne and Kai but between them they could not give it any recognition.

Inside was a letter written in an elegant, cursive hand. The tone and structure were heavily antiquated, to the point of parody. Though instead of offending the emissary by remarking as such, Clio simply read the contents aloud.

“Hail good, kind protectors of your people.

I seek your aid in this desperate time, humbly pleading for your assistance. My wife, Helen of Bris has contracted a fatigue that none can rouse her from. I fear if I cannot find her remedy she will continue fading until she dissipates from my life as dew before the sun. I would have her healed and returned to me in the persona I have come to cherish.

I offer the whole of my state’s fortune as recompense if thou but answer our plea. Make haste, I beg of thee, even now her happy sun dips below the horizon that splits life from death. The saviour of my beloved shall be paid the highest expense and greatest honour.

Sincerely,

Anax Arimnestos of Bris.”

A long silenced followed. To the triumvirate, it was difficult to understand why they would have been sought out. Their few and petty deeds could not have caught the eye of the Brisian leader. Especially not one who used such archaic honorifics as Anax. Yet, here sat his emissary, at their table, flaunting his master’s wealth by plying the whole tavern with spirit. Eventually it was Kai that asked:

“Why us? There are others of higher merit who would accept this.” Kai pointed to the letter and apparently had no qualms with looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Daphne however found multiple qualms and again kicked Kai under the table.

“Yet I have found none. It is known that pirates patrol the waters between Illios and Bris. I have found not a one who would brave crossing their path. Truly, the cowardice of heroes is a terrible thing.” Said the emissary.

“And there’s the rub.” Daphne said, sipping her mulled wine.

“I know a safe path.” Hurried the emissary. “It is how I arrived, and how I intend to return.”

The triumvirate looked between each other, long and silent. The presence of pirates was well known to Illosians. They inhabited a collection of islands east of Illios. Until now Kai had assumed Bris was one of them. The strength and naval presence of pirates were so fearsome that they wielded a similar militaristic control over their waters as most established countries’ navies.

To get caught by a pirate raiding vessel was a nightmarish thing. So much so, that the horrific tales of survivors would occasionally include supernatural embellishments to make them all the more frightful. The Ghost King’s Trireme and Banshees of Black Sails were popular songs in an Illiosian bard’s repertoire.

“You’re sure you know how to avoid them?” Daphne asked.

“I would not be speaking to you otherwise.” The emissary nodded.

“In that case, I’m for it.” Said Daphne.

“I think it’s worth the risk.” Clio agreed.

There was a silence then. Clio and Daphne looked to Kai, who was in turn looking at the emissary. To all three companions, the emissary seemed desperate. Though, Kai couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was eluding him.

“How did you come by our names, exactly?” Kai asked.

“On arriving at Illios, I paid my respects at the Pantheon. It was Priestess Circe that recommended Priestess Clio. ‘A truly gifted healer’, she called you. I pray she did not make too great of a claim.” He said in earnest.

Kai chewed on his lip for a moment. He looked at Clio, who nodded. Circe had been a good friend and tutor during Clio’s time at the Pantheon. The story held merit and according to Clio’s body language, Kai deduced that she felt it was a likely turn of events.

The three companions had spoken earlier in the evening of potentially attempting proper mercenary work. Each of them had developed quite a dynamic set of skills and abilities, over the last few years especially. If they picked their jobs carefully, they could enjoy a fairly carefree travelling life. For a time at least.

“And how do we know this is not some elaborate pirate ploy to lure us back to your den of thieves?” Kai asked.

“I admit our location is unfortunately close to the scourge of the sea. Our people often suffer their raiding parties as result. However, if you should witness our ship on the morrow you will know us to be good, honest men and women.

Moreover, what use would a band of pirates have with three adventurers such as yourselves. Surely there are more profitable persons to kidnap if that were our desire.” The emissary seemed to become more nervous by the moment. “I of course mean no offense.”

“Okay.” Kai agreed after a moment. Then he looked seriously at the emissary. “But, so you are aware; should I happen to suspect you of piracy I will not hesitate to call the most fearsome sea creatures under my control down on you and yours.”

It was a lie, of course, but it was a very good lie. Kai watched the emissary suppress a shudder and reconsider all he knew of Aquans. At times, the ignorance of Terrans could be a wonderful thing. Clio and Daphne eyed Kai surreptitiously, knowing much better than the emissary. Kai even saw a nearby eaves dropper go slack jawed in surprise. He surely would be spreading the falsity to his table eagerly at the first break in conversation.

“I assure you my intentions are nothing other than to escort you safely to my Master.” The emissary bowed his head.

“When do we leave?” Kai asked.

“My vessel, The Twilight Mist, leaves the dock at first light tomorrow morning. Will I expect to see you all there?”

The companions nodded and bid farewell as Arimnestos’ emissary left the tavern. They sat in silence for a while after that. Clio read the letter again before Daphne read it once for herself. Kai drank and tried to discover what secret he felt about the strange foreign man. Whatever nagged at him was deeply hidden within his psyche and he did not succeed at uncovering its warning.

“I think this will be good for us.” Clio said finally. “It’s just what we were talking about.”

“Exactly.” Said Daphne, putting down the letter.

“Exactly.” Clio echoed.

“But who on Land and Sea still call themselves Anax?” Daphne laughed; Clio laughed at that too.

“Did either of you find something suspect about that emissary?” Asked Kai.

“I think his life is tied to that of the Anax’s wife. If we had refused, who knows what this Arminestos would have done to him.” Clio said. “That and he talks as though he just stepped out of the last age.”

“You think this Arimnestos to be a particularly cruel leader?” asked Daphne.

“Love makes Matu mad.” Clio quoted.

Kai only drank. He had noticed behaviour in the emissary that suggested the Anax to be a cruel master, but that was not the thing that nagged. For now, whatever it was, was as intangible as the wind. So, Kai drank, and when a herbalist did his rounds and peddled his wares Kai bought enough smoking leaf for a very long journey.