A mass of swirling darkness, spinning in intricate patterns. A hazy shape, almost indistinguishable from the swirls that permeated the air drifted in and out of existence. Darkness coalesced, forming into something like an elongated sphere, taller than it was wide, before it dispersed into the surrounding swirls. It shifted, some parts stretching while others contracted. Always moving, always dispersing, always coalescing, all at once.

A shape made out of darkness, indistinguishable from its surroundings and yet standing out.

Then, the shape of a young woman. She wasn’t tall nor particularly short for one of the Elmaeasta, the Summer elves. Her features lean and tough in a tired and worn down way, like an oak that had weathered to many storms. Her eyes were a deep emerald green and she looked out into the world with a gaze both fierce and melancholic.

“Kaspia, Kaspia please wake up,” a voice wheezed between hard breaths.

Kaspias' mind stirred back to the land of the living, only for memories to fall to dust and drift away in the wind.

The world wobbled and spun as consciousness returned to Kaspias mind. She had come to Valium alone, lost and weak, seeking strength and Redhand had made her an offer just like he had done to everyone else in the crew. Strength through service. She had worked hard and undergone a ritual, a ritual she would rather forget.

“Just leave the wench to the guards, you little piss rat. I won’t have you exhausted if we need to fight,” a grunting voice said.

What was going on?

The sight of the approaching floor flickered back into her mind. Hadn’t she fallen to her death? At the very least she should be lying unconscious and bleeding on the floor of the basement as the guards took her prisoner.

“Mother, father, brother, I swore to survive, to get strong. I'm sorry for being weak. Wait for me on the plains of Elysium.”

“I can do it boss, it won’t be a problem. I can still fight!” The person carrying her replied in a begging tone.

“You couldn’t even fight a blind pigeon, you little piss rat,” a callous voice replied, the poisonous voice of Redhand.

The wobbling up and down continued as dizziness closed in and her mind drifted into oblivion.

Kaspia's mind stirred, her body aching with pain, her neck rigid as a board. She tried to move her hands, relieved that she could still feel their touch against rough wooden boards. Opening her eyes, all she saw was a deep darkness, no walls, no floor, not even her own legs.

Blindness? A blind elf did not survive long on the streets of Valium. No, it didn't feel right. You wouldn't lose your vision from a fall.

“What do I know of medicine?”

Focusing on calming herself down, Kaspia closed her eyes, breathing in and out, in and out until her racing heart slowed down. When she opened them again, blurry shapes began to come into view in the faint light of the room.

Joy surged through her veins as a wide grin spread across Kaspia's face, propping her determination up as she attempted to sit.

“Shh!” A hazy figure hurtled at Kaspia. “We gotta be quiet, or someone might hear us.”

Kaspia remained silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts in an effort to clear the fog muddling her thoughts before whispering.

“Who are you?”

This was all very confusing.

“It's me, Tillian,” a young voice replied. “You were hurt real bad Kaspia. Blood poured from your forehead but old Redhand saved us, he had a secret way out behind the shelves. He collapsed the doorway behind us as we ran, shutting it close right when armed men began to jump down from the ceiling like monsters. I bet they dropped at least ten feet!”

So the Redhand isn't as lazy and useless as he gave the impression of being then. How had she not even considered that? She could see his reaction in another light now, the cruel bastard wouldn’t have survived this long if he didn't always keep a few tricks up his sleeve.

“We ran as fast as we could through a tunnel. When it opened up, we were in the warehouse district and everyone scattered. Redhand took Silvertongue and Beoria as well as the crates from the hideout. I don’t know where the rest went after that.”

“You…” the words caught in her throat. “Tillian, you saved me?”

Tillian's face turned red as he looked into the floor, “It should be safe here, at least for now,” he said. “Here, I got something for you, it's not the finest but it'll help you recover. I watered it down a bit so don't expect too much.”

He raised a tiny flask at her, a brownish red liquid spilling around inside.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“An elixir, no I can't.” She shook her head. “This was too much.”

“Of course, we are friends.”

“It's too much, you should keep it for a rainy day.”

Tillian's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as Kaspia thrust the half-filled flask back at him. “I've been giving you tiny sips all day.”

The boy was too naive. Just too kind.

“Please, take it,” he said.

Tillians small hands firmly pushed the flask back at her, fingers slowly closing around hers. Trembling, he brought it to her lips and Kaspia opened her mouth to take a small sip. The liquid was warm as it ran down her throat, the flavor gritty, earthy with hints of herbs and spices. After a moment she coughed, the aftertaste was bitter and acrid, with a slight sweetness underneath, like drinking dirt.

Kaspia leaned back against the wall, the haze lingering in her mind burning away under the power of the restorative elixir.

Leaning her head back on the wall and closing her eyes she figured she must have been out for quite some time, the darkness in the room spoke of nightfall, and the onset of a new day, and only Tillian's elixir had roused her from unconsciousness.

Tillian unwrapped her fingers clutching the flask, lowered her to the floor and pulled a ragged burlap sack over her legs. “Rest,” he said. “I'll wake you if something happens.”

Kaspia nodded without opening her eyes, focusing only on her throbbing head.

“I'm going to check outside,” Tillian told her with a gentle voice, like a birds song, and Kaspia felt her body growing heavy with sleep. “Now sleep tight.”

Kaspia slowly opened her eyes, feeling a bit more refreshed than the night before. There were faint steps growing louder as someone approached her, creaks from the wooden boards that stretched across the room.

“Kaspia! You're finally awake,” Tillian's face lit up with joy.

Sitting up against the wall, stiff body complaining but her head not beating as heavily any more. Small victories to that.

“Hello Tillian,” Kaspia managed to croak. Gods she felt parched.

The boy plumped down beside her on the floor. “I brought food,” he said with a wide smile spreading from ear to ear.

“You were outside? You shouldn't have, they might still be looking for us.”

Going outside didn't feel like a good idea. Still, she plucked a piece of the offered bread from his hand with gratitude.

“They probably have more important things to do than to look for the two of us,” Tillian said. “It's getting worse out there you know and now everything is going to shit. I heard a mob left the slums yesterday, hit one of the noble estates in the inner city, you could see the smoke even from the slum.”

Kaspia shook her head lightly and instantly regretted it as new pain flared. Rioting was common in the slums but plundering a noble estate, well, that was unheard of and not good news. Riots only left rivers of blood flowing down the alleys.

She sighed before putting the hard bread in her mouth, crumbs falling down her cheek. “It's that bad, huh? Too many refugees crammed into the slums I'd reckon.”

Tillian's eyes glided over to a small window set between rough planks but he didn't say anything.

“What’s happening out there, in the city, what are the duke’s men doing about the riots? They are always ready to crack down on the slums when a mob threatens to move into the inner districts,” Kaspia spoke more to herself than to Tillian, gears turning as her sluggish mind turned things over.

Beside her Tillian suddenly snarled, his drooping ears tensing, a reflex as natural as breathing for children who grew up in the slums whenever the duke's men were spoken off. “Haven't seen a dirty yellow shirt in days,” he spat in disgust. “Word on the street is that the duke is sending most of them east, to protect the peace, they say.”

“Figures.” Kaspia knew full well what kind of 'peace' armed men brought with them. The duke's criers always spoke of baron Harkon, the lord ruling the land down river from Valium and his injustice. How he strangled trade along the river with unjust tolls and threatened the fragile peace. Only, it was those like her family who really needed protection, where were the duke's men when they were really needed?

Tillian’s face contorted slightly, his eyebrows pulling together, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Filthy yellow shirts,” he spat again.

If the duke was to be believed House Aemilianus would be the only ones to stand up for the elven people… She emitted a short, mocking laugh, everyone knew it was horse piss. No one looked out for anyone but themselves, just like in the slums where everyone struggled to get ahead and no handouts were given. Strength, as always, was the only thing that mattered.

Kaspia rose to her feet to stumble around the room for a while, each step less unsteady than the last. “We can't stay here,” she said more to herself than to Tillian who looked up at her from the ground. “We need a plan.”

She raised the flask with the last of the restorative elixir to her lips and gulped down the murky liquid Tillian had given her. A fire forcing its way through her veins, releasing an odd feeling of comfort.

Feeling a bit better she looked back at the small elven boy sitting on the floor with his arms around his legs and thought about how Tillian had been nothing but kind to her. How could she ever repay his kindness? To think she hadn't trusted him, never really trusted anyone, not for a long time. Trust was a dangerous gamble in the slums, always was, trust got you killed in Valium.

As she tried to come up with a plan she pestered Tillian with questions, the boy more than happy to speak with her, and managed to work out some of the missing pieces of what had transpired following her fall inside the hideout. When she’d fallen she hadn’t hit the floor directly as she thought, instead she tumbled into the barrel and crashed onto a pile of pillows. Lucky stars! Who knew an excessive amount of pillows in a basement could be such a life saver. Then she’d been lying there, blood pooling around her head, soaking everything. Tilianl had pulled her up across his shoulders and then carried her by himself. When the small boy had asked for help no one had listened and Tillian had just managed to pass the exit before it collapsed behind Redhands fleeing crew. At the same time armed men had been streaming down from the hatch and they weren’t normal city guards either. Till spoke in awe, said they exuded power like nothing he had felt before, and worse, that they weren't the common yellow shirts that the duke employed.

Why were men like that after common thieves like them? That damned interrogator had to have been powerful to control such warriors. Did it have to do with the box they had stolen? It was the largest score they had gotten their hands on the night of the Good goddess. All through the heist she had had a creeping feeling that stealing something as valuable as was bound to be in that box and getting away with it would prove to be too good to be true. The Redhand had bragged that they would soon be rich trolls, or so he had told everyone. Now who knew what was going to happen.