Helen watched as Haggard let out a satisfied sigh as he set down his tankard of mead, some of the honeyed liquid spilling out onto the bar.
“Ah… Nothing quite like it…” He commented, grinning as he looked towards his shackled companion, who was boredly taking sips out of her small cup of water. They both had spent most of the evening trying to find mercs for hire and only succeeded with a couple of ‘maybes.’
“Why do I even bother helping you guys?” she asked rhetorically.
“Because if we fail, best-case scenario, you go back to jail,” Haggard reminded her.
“What’s the worst case?” Helen inquired, looking at Haggard.
“You don’t have to be a genius to figure that out,” he answered simply, taking a swig from his tankard.
Helen sighed frustratingly. “These are only mercs that are willing to help for cheap.” She evenly spaced out three of the cards those men left behind, their contact information scribbled on them.
The first of them was a meathead who didn’t really care for the money, only for the promise of fighting tough enemies. Helen could tell right away that he was too stupid to follow any orders or even fight properly. The second one seemed like an adventurer who had his job description mixed up. He was a young, stupid kid, nervous and willing to do anything for money. The third one seemed promising. He was a jackass but had seemed skilled enough and willing to fight for the low price.
‘Still… It feels like he’s one of those cowards who runs at the first sign of real danger…’
Helen looked around the bustling tavern, eyeing the people around. She spotted her three candidates, who were all doing their own thing. The stupid one was challenging a much bigger man to a brawl, yelling incoherently at him. The youngest one was awkwardly drinking, doing his best to fit in with the rest of the rough-looking patrons. Finally, the last one was currently showing off his silver rapier to some unimpressed tavern wench, a stupid grin on his face.
“Idiots,” Helen commented, making a disgusted face. Even if they all were willing to work for as low as ten to twenty gold each, they were definitely not what Helen had in mind. She turned to Haggard, wanting to see if he had anything to say about them. But Haggard didn’t seem to pay attention. He had his gaze on somewhere else, his eyes focused, and his smile faded.
“What is it?” Helen asked before following his gaze. In the corner, away from everyone else, sat a mercenary. At least, that’s what Helen assumed. The man was dressed in partial leather and plate, the stained steel visible beneath the shawl he wore over his head and torso. His dark sleeves were rolled up, showing his pale skin and strange runic tattoo on his left arm. Scars accompanied his forearms while his gloves covered up his hands, which Helen didn’t doubt had scars on them too. There was a short sword visible on his back, its strange hilt exposed.
Still, despite these strange things, Helen didn’t find them all that interesting. They were pretty common for a mercenary, as most of them did their best to distinguish themselves. The one thing that caught her attention was the man’s mask. Under his dark hood, the man covered his face up with a white wooden mask, which had a huge wide toothy grin painted onto it, right under his two black eyeholes, which seemed to hold an infinite darkness. Helen recognized the mask. She had no doubts Haggard did, too. Very few people could ever forget the unique symbol of the Followers of Chaos.
“How long do you think he’s been sitting there?” Helen asked. Haggard seemed to have lost his excited attitude, his expression serious and focused.
“He’s been sitting there since we came into the tavern. I had only just spotted the mask,” Haggard replied in a whisper.
Followers of Chaos were a very volatile type of people, Helen recalled. They were unpredictable, insane, and always showed up around times of crisis and war. They were rumored to be the sole causes for wars and disaster as a way to please their equally insane god, Myr. Still, the man they were looking at didn’t seem to fit the bill of crazy. He even waved at them, aware that he was being stared at. Helen looked up at Haggard.
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“Well… He doesn’t really seem all that bad,” Haggard started, rubbing his beard. Helen groaned at Haggard, looking back at the mysterious mercenary.
‘Mercenary,’ she echoed in her mind, an insane idea appearing in her mind. Although Helen had never met another Follower of Chaos, she had heard stories of their fighting prowess. They had gone toe to toe with Lumen Knights, Clan Warriors, and Holy Inquisitors. Maybe it wasn’t too far removed to assume this one was no different, right?
“Haggard, let’s talk with him,” Helen urged, nudging the bigger man.
“Are you crazy? Why?” Haggard asked, obviously more than a little uncomfortable at the idea of talking to the strange man. Helen explained her idea to Haggard, who shook his head in disagreement. Helen sighed before trying again with a different approach.
“If he agrees, he’ll probably also be crazy enough to spar with you.” The words had barely left her lips before Haggard suddenly moved, his shackled wrist pulling her along for the ride.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, his excitement returning to his voice.
‘I swear. The first thing I’m going to do when I get free… Is to kill this fucking guy.’ Helen thought, as she tried to keep up with Haggard.
----------------------------------------
James rubbed his right shoulder, where the imprinted rune was located. The burning sensation underneath his tunic was finally fading away, to the relief of James.
“I warned you,” Dahlia said, an amused tone in her voice as she walked alongside James. They were back on the streets of Vindis, having paid the Wizard for imprinting the rune before they left.
“Yeah yeah,” James sighed, his breath coming out in small puffs. There was a fruity aftertaste on his tongue, which was something apparently all magic had, according to Dahlia. James could recall a similar scent back during the battle for Yorktown whenever he had breathed in the fog cloud spell Dahlia had summoned. The fog then had a different aftertaste, however, almost like raspberries. The one that James was experiencing was more akin to blackberries.
‘I wonder if there is a spell that tastes like strawberries…’
James idly thought as he looked up at the sky. Nighttime was soon approaching, the clouds above the two darkening as the day ended.
‘Looks like we won’t be able to return to ship soon…’
James grimaced, remembering Seamus.
‘He’s fine.’ Faust reassured. ‘He can take care of himself without a problem.’
James felt guilty but took Faust’s word. Although Seamus seemed like a coward, and occasionally acted like one, he was more than capable in the eyes of James and his companions.
“Do you know the way to the tavern?” James asked Dahlia, who was examining the signs and posts around the corners.
“Yup. Just need to turn down this street and…”
Both of them turned a corner and into what looked like a wide alleyway, a few lanterns lighting the end of the path. James felt uneasy as he and Dahlia traversed the alley, his eyes examining the dark shadows and corners as he picked up his pace. Dahlia seemed to do the same, picking up speed as they moved towards the lantern’s light. James stopped suddenly, Dahlia moving a few paces ahead before she stopped.
“James?” she asked. James ignored her, focusing on his hearing. He could hear blows landing on something, as well as the sound of someone speaking. He followed the noise to a much smaller alleyway they had passed earlier. James peeked into the alleyway, his eyes squinting through the dim light of the lanterns nearby.
There was a gathering of four men, two of them standing back as one shook the other against the wall. No, he was punching the other man. James could hear his fists impacting against the other man’s gut, causing the receiving end to cough out violently.
“Is that all you got?” the beaten man spat out, which prompted his attacker to punch him again.
“This is the fifth fucking time Dimitri! Where’s that money you promised?” The attacker asked, out of breath as he picked up the man James assumed was Dimitri. He slammed the other man into the wall. “I should just fucking kill you now. Save me the trouble of coming to find you every week. I’m sure your corpse would reach a fair price with that necromancer on the far side of the city.”
“Bah! All talk. My body ain’t worth shit. What makes you think a necromancer would have use for a drunk like me?”
James could see how Dimitri’s grin was bloody, staining his graying stubble. The other man grinned back. He pulled out a dagger, pulling his arm back as he readied for a stab.
“Let’s find out then?” he asked.
“Hey!” James suddenly felt himself shout, stepping into the alleyway. He could feel Faust mentally cringe inside his head.
‘You really have to stop stepping in,’ the spirit commented.
James ignored him, focusing his attention on the men in front of him. They all turned to look at him, confused looks on their faces.
“Back off, this isn’t your fight,” one of them called out, a scar over his right eye.
“Really? Because it doesn’t look very fair. Especially since you’re not letting him fight back. What are you, a bunch of cowards?” James felt Faust react to his words.
‘James… I don’t think you can take them…’ the spirit muttered.
“What did you say?” One man asked, his bald head glinting in the light of the lanterns.
“I said you’re a bunch of cowards! You want to come over here and prove me wrong?”
‘I can’t stop myself!’
James panicked mentally, despite his face remaining straight and serious. His adrenaline was running now, his words coming out faster than he could think and process.
“James… what the fuck?!” Dahlia hissed behind the young man, reminding him he wasn’t the only one in danger. Their assumed leader, the one who was beating down Dimitri, pointed his dagger at James and the shaman as he shouted at his men.
“What’re the two of you standing around for? Markov said no witnesses, so take care of them!”
The men reacted, the scarred one going after Dahlia while the bald man went for James. James reached for his short sword on his side, pulling it out of its makeshift cloth sheath as the man pulled out his own weapon, a long dagger with a curved edge.
James barely had time to ready his stance before the man descended upon him, slashing at James. The young man backed and dodged as he held his sword in defense, using it to deflect most of the man’s attacks. Still, James felt the cold bite of steel on his left arm, causing him to wince in pain as he tried to counterattack. The sword’s attempted slash fell short, however, as the bald man dodged it, stepping away from James as he caught his breath.
James rapidly thought of ways to fight the dagger-wielding man, thinking back to his training with Harald. He remembered the sparring session with Harald’s trainees, specifically with the young man named Dirk. He had used a similar dagger, granted, not curved, but it was similar nonetheless.
‘How did I counter him?’
James recalled how he had lost the first couple of times with Dirk, mainly because the young man was too fast for James to accurately defend against. He remembered why he had won the third time.
> “Daggers are great for offense. Light, easy to maneuver, and you can wield two at the same time. The downside is you have to get very close to your opponent, and your dagger won’t do shit for defense, since they’re too small.”
Harald’s voice echoed through James’ mind as he remembered the veteran’s lesson. He took a quick glance at Dahlia, who was currently busy with the scarred man. The scarred man had his own dagger, but it seemed as if he was not as fast with his as Dahlia was with hers. James knew she could get out of her situation.
‘The only question is…’
He turned to the bald man, who seemed to have caught his breath in the meantime.
‘Can I get out of mine?’
James gripped his sword, remembering what Harald had commented on his fighting ability.
“God awful defense… but a good offense,” he whispered, recalling the old veteran’s words.
“What are you on about—?” His opponent asked before James rushed at him. The young man slashing at the dagger-wielder, cutting cloth and air as he swung his short sword. The bald man barely dodged the attacks, pieces of his shirt and shawl getting sliced off as James slashed. James tried for a stab, lunging forward at the bald man.
The man still somehow dodged James’ blade, which barely cut through his clothing and shoddy chain mail.
‘Dammit! Too slow!’
James turned to redirect his blade at the bald man. The man tried to use his dagger to deflect his blow, but missed his chance when James slammed the flat end of the blade against his side. James had swung the sword as if it was a baseball bat, confusing both the bald man and his friends. Even Faust seemed befuddled.
‘Where did you learn that technique?’ the spirit asked, astounded.
‘Little league baseball,’ James answered a split second later. The force of the blow sent the bald man stumbling back, his feet moving to keep his balance. The young man didn’t let him regain it. James screamed as he tackled the bald man, dropping his sword as he slammed him against the wall nearby.
James felt his shoulder impact the man’s chest, whose lungs made a whooshing sound as his air was knocked out. Still, James could see how he tried to fight back, so he countered. Taking a note from Faust, James punched the bald man at the side of his skull, sending him dropping to the ground. The asshole wouldn’t stay down, however, as he tried for a desperate lunge with his dagger.
Thankfully, James dodged the attack by mere centimeters, his hands moving to grab at the man’s hand. Both men struggled with the dagger, with James being forced onto the ground. The young blond man used most of his strength to redirect the blade into the ground, making it stab into the platform below. He used the opening to grab at the bald head of his opponent, hoping to push him away.
As soon as James’ fingers touched the man’s head, however, there was a sudden jolt of electricity, like one would get when they were shocked by static. Except multiplied by ten. Both men recoiled back quickly, with James grabbing at his head from the sudden migraine that came out of nowhere. He felt an influx of adrenaline rush into his body, making his hands shake slightly. James looked back at the bald man, who was suffering from a similar condition.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The young man looked down at the nearby dagger, which was within reach for both men. The bald man seemed to notice it as well. James quickly moved in, stopping the other man before he had the chance to grab his dagger. James’ fist made contact with the bastard’s jaw, sending him back onto the ground. The young man stumbled from his imbalanced punch before falling onto the platform.
Panting heavily, he kicked the dagger away from reach, catching his breath as he went down on one knee.
‘What the hell was that?’
He willed for his hands to stop shaking, his eyes focused on his fallen opponent. James thankfully knocked him unconscious, as the bald man’s breathing was slow and rhythmic.
‘Did you feel that?’ James asked Faust. Before the spirit could answer, however, James’ attention was shifted towards a shout.
“Look out!” Dahlia’s voice rang out.
The young man raised his head to see the leader of the trio a mere couple of feet away, a dagger aimed at James. In the split second that passed, James realized he couldn’t do anything. His sword was out of reach, his lungs burning from exertion, and his throat exposed. He couldn’t even use his new physical casting, as the Wizard had instructed him to wait twelve hours before he could cast it.
‘Am I going to die?’ James asked in that split second, watching as the dagger drew close and closer.
Suddenly, the world shifted around James. Literally. James felt the ground beneath him shift suddenly to the side, forcing both him and the attacker to fall over on their sides.
‘What’s happening?’ James asked Faust, who seemed just as clueless.
‘Fuck if I know! Just grab your sword!’
James moved his head to search for his sword, his eyes finally finding and focusing on the blade, which slid away. Luckily enough, James grabbed it in time. His hand gripped onto the hilt tightly, pulling the sword to him as the ground shifted back to normal. The attacker wasn’t so lucky, as his dagger slid away too far for him to grab at it. He still tried to scramble for it, desperately reaching for the weapon before James stomped on his hand.
“Agh!” the man exclaimed in agony. The man looked up at James, his anger soon turning to fear as he came face to face with the tip of James’ sword.
“Stop right there, asshole,” James panted, still out of breath.
Dahlia came up right next to him, out of breath as well.
“Those other guys seem knocked out,” she managed before punching James’ arm. Hard. “What the hell is wrong with you? You couldn’t at least warn me you were going to do something so stupid?!” She was understandably pissed. James turned to speak to the shaman, but was interrupted by someone laughing.
“Ha! Fucking asshole! That’s what you get!” It was the man called Dimitri, his hands wiping the blood from his mouth as he stumbled his way to the pinned attacker. He kicked at the downed man, spitting a glob of bloody saliva at him before kicking him one more time for good measure. Dimitri slowly caught his breath, wheezing as he bent over. The former attacker winced in pain from the hits before yelling out in anger,
“You won’t get away next time, Dimitri! Markov will have your corpse hanged if you don’t–”
“Oh, just shut up,” the shaman interrupted tiredly.
The man looked up at her, anger twisting his face as he shouted.
“You both haven’t an idea who you’re messing with! You both—!”
He was silenced by Dahlia, who knocked him out with a well-placed kick to the head.
“Thank you…” Dimitri panted out, spitting more blood onto the ground. “Fucking asshole.” The beaten man stood up straight, letting James get a better view of him. Through the bruises and blood, James guessed that the man was in his early to late fifties, as he had a graying goatee and stubble, despite his jet black hair. “Thank the gods for that rogue wave, otherwise things would have ended badly for you, young man…”
James blinked, recalling the sudden shift in the ground.
‘Rogue wave… Huh...’
James was then reminded that Vindis wasn’t a normal city and that it was a floating settlement supported by multiple floating platforms. So a rogue wave disturbing a platform or two didn’t seem at all far-fetched.
‘Saved again by luck,’ James thought bitterly. He was more than a little bothered by the fact that he had only survived because of dumb luck instead of by his own ability.
‘One day that’s going to change.’
He looked back at Dimitri, who seemed to catch his breath again.
“Seriously, thanks. To the both of you. I really don’t know how to pay you back for all of this…”
“You don’t need to,” James responded, but Dimitri waved him off.
“Nonsense! I owe you one friend… uh…”
“James.”
“Friend James! You truly saved my ass here, you and your beautiful girlfriend here!”
“Uh….”
“Please, I beg of you to let me repay your kindness. Let me just think… uh… do you have anything you need? I can do my best to meet your needs.”
James seriously thought about the offer, his mind wandering. “Well… we’re not really not going to be any longer since we need to sail off somewhere tomorrow...”
Dimitri’s eyes lit up. “Sail? Do you have your own ship?” He asked.
James nodded slowly. “Yes, but–”
“Then let me help! I was on contract for quite a few ships before I ended up on Vindis. I can captain your crew and guide them!”
“Well, we don’t really have a crew…”
“Ah! Even better! I can gather my old crew up. They’ve been itching for a contract for years! I swear, they’re the best Vindis can offer you!” Dimitri’s enthusiasm and excitement made it hard for James to put off his proposal. He looked towards Dahlia for guidance. She seemed hesitant as well.
“It would help us a lot. Put a little less strain on Seamus and the rest. As for our budget…” She hesitated to elaborate.
“Do not worry about the price, my friends. I can convince my old crew to work for cheap. I doubt they’ll turn down work after years of nothing. Please, let me make it up for you,” the drunkard assured them both.
James sighed before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll think about it. Tomorrow at the harbor towards the south, there’s a ship there named Frostbite. Bring your crew, and we’ll discuss payment, alright?”
Dimitri’s face lit up, his hand moving to slap James on the shoulder. “Good! I will assemble my crew for tomorrow. I wish the best for you friend James!” Dimitri gave one last kick to the man below him before he walked off, whistling terribly as he stumbled around. James stared at the sight, unsure of what to make of his situation.
“Tell me you saw what I saw,” James said to Dahlia, who seemed to be in a similar state of awe.
“I was going to ask you the same thing…”
----------------------------------------
Helen stared at the strange card that the mercenary left behind. It was clean, with golden filigrees lining the edges of the white material. Yet, despite the fanciness, there was no information, no name, not even any words. Instead, there was a crudely drawn grin and dot eyes, similar to the mask he had worn. The strange man had told them he cared little for the price, only for how interesting the job was. Helen had told him she herself didn’t really know much, other than that they promised her freedom as long as she navigated the ship and was kept under watch by Haggard.
The stranger had found her situation amusing and told them he would take the job for as low as ten gold pieces as long as he was part of the action. Helen agreed, and the man had left, leaving his card for her. That left her where she was now, staring at a strange card as Haggard drank some more.
“So… who are we hiring?” Haggard asked, setting down his tankard. Helen sighed and pocketed the card.
“Well, that guy is definitely a front runner, despite his… oddities. As for the rest.” She furrowed her brow. “I guess we can afford them all. All together, we’ll only have to spend about fifty gold pieces.”
“So, an entire crew of mercenaries?” Haggard asked before Helen added,
“More like a disjointed group of weirdos.”
“So, like our group?” Haggard chuckled.
Helen groaned at that. She hated to admit it, but Haggard was right. Their current group had oddballs of their own. There was the strange blond man James, who seemed to emit a sort of wrongness about him, that coward Seamus Halvorson, who somehow thinks that Helen doesn’t remember him, those two nameless, silent type assholes, and this drunken idiot who was shackled to her. The shaman seemed the most normal out of all of them.
‘Don’t forget yourself. The marauder who couldn’t bring herself to kill one simple man.’
That small voice in the back of her head whispered. Helen gritted her teeth in frustration, grabbing at Haggard’s new tankard of mead and downing the golden liquid. She nearly spat the drink out, still not entirely used to honeyed mead.
“Hey!” Haggard exclaimed. Helen didn’t care for the drunk, forcing herself to take another swig before that annoying small voice came back.
----------------------------------------
James leaned back in his chair, groaning tiredly. “So... That’s what happened,” he voiced, as he had just finished up explaining his side of the story. James was currently at a table in the tavern called ‘The Drunken Draugr’ along with Dahlia, Haggard, and a very drunk Helen. It had been a couple of hours since his interaction with Dimitri.
“That’s quite some story,” Haggard commented, raising his tankard above his head as Helen tried to reach for it. “Helen and I recruited a group of four mercenaries—”
“Stupid ones…” the drunk woman commented before finally succeeding in taking the tankard from the surprised man, mead spilling as she quickly chugged it down.
Haggard groaned, tried to take the tankard back, failed, and soon gave up. “I haven’t been able to get a swig in since she started,” Haggard pointed out, sighing tiredly.
“How much are they going to cost us?” Dahlia asked.
“Fifty gold,” Helen drunkenly stated.
“Fifty? For a group?” Dahlia seemed worried. “Are they skilled?”
“Define skilled,” Helen prompted, taking a break from her drinking. “I’m willing to bet half will die before they even leave Vindis,” Helen snorted in morbid amusement before she drank again.
‘She definitely has some problems…’ James noticed.
‘Agreed.’ Faust added.
Dahlia furrowed her brow. “You couldn’t get at least one or two very skilled ones?”
“Do you know how difficult it is to find a skilled mercenary willing to work for eighty gold pieces, with little to no information about their new job, and must be able to leave on the morrow?” The drunk woman asked, raising an eyebrow at the shaman. “It’s not fucking easy, I tell you… Not to mention that tonight is a slow night in this tavern.” Helen resumed drinking, leaving Dahlia visibly agitated by the woman’s response.
James turned to the rest of the tavern, watching as the patrons got rowdier by the second.
‘If this is a slow night, then I probably don’t want to come by on happy hour.’
James watched as some guy, dwarf judging from his size and build, got lifted and thrown across the room. James instinctively flinched when the drunk crashed nearby, breaking a table right next to them. The dwarf groaned, obviously concussed.
“Guess that makes it a group of three mercenaries,” Haggard commented.
“That was one of them?” James asked, surprised.
“Yup,” Helen answered after taking a peek. “No matter, he was only going to come so he can fight the ‘biggest’ and ‘baddest’ monster he can find with his bare hands. Probably for the best that he stays in a coma,” she finished, raising the tankard to her lips before realizing it was empty. She sighed, placed it down, and reached for James’ tankard.
The young man pulled it before she had a chance to grab it, however.
“No way I’m letting you drink any more. Besides, I ordered cider.” James watched as disappointment showed on the ex-marauder’s face before she tried to grab Dahlia’s drink.
“No chance,” Dahlia commented, pulling her tankard away as she shook her head.
“Dammit!” Helen cursed before trying to wave over a nearby tavern wench. “Hey! More mead!” She called in a drunken stupor. Haggard sighed, drained of his usual enthusiasm.
“I’ll take her outside, see if the cold night can calm her senses.” Haggard waved off the tavern wench before picking Helen up as she drunkenly tried to fight back, to no avail.
“Hey! What’re you doing? Put me down!” Helen shouted at Haggard, who carried her as if she weighed nothing. James watched, hiding his amusement as Helen did her best to grab the other patron’s drinks, Haggard apologizing as he pulled her away and out the doors of The Drunken Draugr.
James sighed as the pair left, taking a sip of his cider as Dahlia let out a breath of relief.
“She really has some problems to work on,” the shaman commented, crossing her arms as she sat back. Dahlia’s eyes focused on James as he glanced at her, cider in hand. “You’re bleeding through your bandages,” she pointed out, sitting up as she took James’ left arm, nearly spilling his drink. James watched as she pulled back his gray sleeve, revealing his bandaged forearm. She had tended to it after their scuffle in the alleyway, wrapping it up quickly before anyone else showed up.
“I wish we didn’t have to leave so soon. Otherwise, my bandage work wouldn’t be so sloppy,” Dahlia muttered as she unwrapped the gauze, showing James’ long cut across his forearm. There were also scars on his arm resembling bite marks, a memory from when James had fought with wolves back at Yorktown.
Dahlia reached into her belt, pulling out her ointment and a vial. She cleaned the wound with a napkin from the table before uncorking the vial. James recognized the smell as the same one from that liquid the Wizard poured onto his torso.
‘Rubbing alcohol…’ James recalled from his thoughts.
He winced as Dahlia poured the stuff into his wound.
‘Yup, definitely rubbing alcohol,’ James concluded, watching as the shaman grabbed her ointment, opening it up and rubbing her fingers in it.
“You’re an idiot, by the way,” Dahlia commented idly as she applied the ointment. “I feel as if I don’t let you know that often since you keep putting yourself at risk.”
“Well… it’s worked out for us every time,” James responded as grabbed his tankard with his right hand, sipping out of it as Dahlia worked. His comment earned a look from the shaman.
“James… Luck doesn’t run forever. You might think at first that you’re unstoppable because you avoid death and gain friends, but eventually, fate will catch up to you. No matter who you are. At some point, fate will balance the scales, and the ones who rely on luck will be hit the hardest,” Dahlia reminded James. She sighed as she finished applying the ointment, pocketing it and the vial before she took out a roll of gauze.
“I’ve already lost enough as it is. The idea of losing you, Seamus... Haggard… Even Harald and Felix. I doubt I’ll be able to handle it.” Dahlia kept her eyes downcast as she wrapped up the bandages on James’ arm. James did not know the shaman was carrying this weight, nor was he aware of how worried she was.
He placed a hand on hers as she finished wrapping the gauze, her soft amber eyes looking up at him as he gave her a reassuring smile.
“I’ll do my best not to get killed again, alright?” James assured her.
The shaman smiled back. “Good… I’d hate to redo the ritual again and have you stuck with three voices inside your head.”
“Hey! It’s bad enough I have Faust in here,” James joked.
‘Hey!’
Both James and Dahlia laughed a bit, the tension in the air broken as they chuckled, then giggled, before falling silent again. Their eyes locked. James could feel his heart beating audibly into his ear, his hand gently squeezing Dahlia’s hand as he felt himself lean a little forward. He noticed how she did the same, her soft amber eyes closing as she leaned, her lips parting ever so slightly.
Suddenly, they were interrupted by the sound of someone flopping onto the table. It was Helen, drunk and asleep as she mumbled incoherently. Haggard stood nearby, panting as water dripped from his soaked clothes. James shot up in surprise.
“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, confused to all hell.
“What… What happened?” Dahlia asked, standing up. “You were only gone for a few minutes!” James noticed how Helen was soaked as well, smelling of seaweed.
“This fucking woman decided that she wanted to go for a little swim in the canal nearby… While shackled to me!” Haggard breathed out. James had never seen Haggard tired, not even after the Siege of Yorktown. “We almost didn’t make it,” Haggard revealed. “The canal’s waters threatened to rip my arms off. Had to use a physical casting to make it out with this idiot!” He gestured towards the woman.
“Dahlia… the key, please,” Haggard pleaded.
The shaman blinked before nodding. “Sure,” she responded, rummaging through one of her pouches before taking out a small key, giving it to Haggard.
The drifter unlocked his shackle without hesitation, panting, before he gave the key back to Dahlia.
“I’m going to get a room upstairs. You can take care of her, Dahlia,” Haggard said before walking off to the bar.
James looked at the shaman, who looked as he felt. “I guess I’ll get a room for me and her. Make sure she doesn’t escape. You should probably go with Haggard.” Dahlia moved to shackle the woman’s other wrist before standing her up and dragging her off. Helen spoke out as this happened.
“Getting excited, are we? At least buy me a drink first,” she drunkenly announced, snort laughing as she did so.
James sighed, walking off to join Haggard as he finished paying for his room for the night before he headed upstairs. They both arrived at their room, opening it to find a single wide bed.
Haggard groaned. “This just keeps getting better and better,” he commented as he walked to the bed before flopping onto one side. James sighed as he closed the door, getting comfortable as he kicked off his boots and undid his armor.
By the time James was on his side of the bed, doing his best to ignore Haggard’s stench, he thought about the shaman. Constantly.
‘Can you please stop? Think of literally anything else… It’s getting boring whenever you think about the shaman. I’ve already seen all of your memories of her,’ Faust complained.
‘Have you been snooping around in my memories again?’ James asked mentally. There was a long pause.
‘No...’ the spirit lied.
‘Dammit, Faust!’ James sighed frustratingly.
‘What? It gets boring up here, alright? There’s not much to do besides watch your recent memories and old ones... I have to pass the time,’ Faust admitted,
James sighed in frustration, but didn’t argue. Faust had a point. James couldn’t imagine what it was like being stuck in that mindscape twenty-four-seven. It must’ve been torture.
‘Damn right it is…’ Faust commented, reminding the young man that he was literally in his thoughts. James groaned, turning on his side. He hoped he would get to sleep soon, so he could stop thinking about how Helen had potentially ruined his night.