The carriage nearly rolled onto its side as Mel banked it sharply around a corner. The entire chassis of the carriage rattled, and everyone within was jostled around– all save for Samson, who remained rooted in place, unbothered.

Delahaye opened the window, hauling the upper half of her body out. The wind whipped past, blowing her hair back. She spat some of it out, strands severed as they passed over and between her teeth. She ripped them out, leaning forward to reach Mel. The poor elf had a white-knuckle grip on the controls of the carriage.

“Mel! Bloody hell! Can this thing go any damn faster?!”

Delahaye was forced to yell to even be heard. Mel shook her head rapidly, eyes fixated on the road. She banked hard to the right, nearly throwing Delahaye out of the window. Only her enhanced balance kept her steady. She ducked as an arrow sailed past, screaming through the air as it slammed into the road ahead of the carriage, sending debris cascading into the air as it blew a crater in the packed earth.

With a hiss, Delahaye swivelled around, conjuring her hand cannon.

“I just had to play the damned hero…”

…

The days following Delahaye’s first encounter with monsters had been rather uneventful.. Spirits were high within the group as they continued on their way to Greenstone, their pace far slower than it had been previously. They took their time through the delta, erring on the side of caution as they navigated the backroads. Occasional monster attacks broke up the monotony of the travel; usually solitary monsters, with the occasional pair, but they did not encounter a pack of monsters the size of the first.

Atarah used the intermittent attacks as a new form of training. Delahaye faced the monsters alone, with Primrose on standby to heal her. It only took three or so monsters for Delahaye to learn how to dodge properly. She found that the enhanced balance and spatial awareness provided to her by one of her Outworlder abilities, Kip Up, had more use than keeping her from tripping over herself.

Whenever something neared Delahaye, there was a haptic buzz in the back of her mind. An innate alarm system, after a fashion. It flashed in her mind in an instant, always a fraction of a second before an impact. It took practice, and that practice hurt. She was bitten, burned, clawed, and so much more before she began to get a hang of the warning, but when it finally clicked…

Delahaye, cutlass in hand, faced down another of the spine-laden, hexapodal reptiles. They bore a strong resemblance to crocodiles, their wide, flat faces laden with massive fangs that interlocked, scraping together as they snapped their maws open and shut. With each movement of their jaws, sparks showered from their fangs. They were far faster than they seemed to be, those six legs capable of launching them forwards a half dozen metres in a single bound.

They had four eyes, which locked onto Delahaye with unsettling intensity. She had discovered the hard way that the creatures had uncanny depth perception, and an accuracy that put any marksman Delahaye had known to shame. They could lash their tails, sending spines zipping forward like a bullet, and they hit with equal force. To make matters worse, they tended to shatter on impact, littering the target’s body with shrapnel-like pieces of spine. Her desire to not become a pin cushion was excellent motivation to hone her evasion skills.

The creature raised its tail, and once more sent a barrage of spines in Delahaye’s direction. She was still reeling from the last attack, the ground littered with blood and shattered spines. She had ripped them from her body, trusting Primrose to heal her. It hurt, but Delahaye could handle pain.

As the spines hurtled towards her, her fingers twitched. There it was; that buzz at the back of her skull. She focused on it, feeling it roll out over her body. She felt it intensely at certain locations– and she realised, suddenly, each area of intense, buzzing irritation was where the spines were due to land.

Delahaye pivoted, and the majority of the spines missed by millimetres. Two still hit their marks, however– one took her in the shoulder, and the other slammed into her side, driving the air from her lungs. She nearly fell over, but she had learned to trust her ability to balance. Delahaye righted herself, ripping the spines free. They hadn’t shattered, and she offered up a silent prayer of thanks to… well, something. She could figure out the specifics of who to thank later.

Raising her hand cannon, Delahaye fired. The shot took the monster right in the centre of its head, coring it like an apple. She lowered her hand, weapon dissipating into motes of blue light. She turned to the group, grinning; though she stopped dead when her eyes fell on Samson, standing with his arms crossed. The massive man had placed himself in front of Primrose, and the spines that had missed Delahaye were instead shattered at Samson’s feet.

“Delahaye…” He said softly. “Please dodge projectiles in a different direction next time.”

She winced, rubbing the back of her neck.

“My bad…”

…

The river delta that made up a solid portion of the Greenstone region was lush, and Primrose’s team had some difficulty navigating the thick foliage. The areas surrounding Nefir were jungle, but not as dense as the delta. The jungles of Nefir were tall, with massive canopies and interconnecting bridges of branches between the massive trees. The canopies swallowed up much of the sunlight, and the undergrowth was sparse as a result. Most of the fauna and smaller flora were arboreal, clinging to the trunks and branches of the trees.

Their leisurely pace slowed considerably once the group moved into the more remote areas of the delta. It took some time to find a road, and they were forced to cut their way through the brush. The lot of them, save for Delahaye, were sweaty and miserable, constantly swatting away insects and fanning themselves in a vain attempt to stave off the heat. For her part, Delahaye seemed perfectly at home.

Several hours passed, but the party’s relief was palpable when they found the road. It was slightly overgrown, but the brush to the sides of the road had evidently been cleared, and recently at that. Still, the growth within the delta was incredibly fast, and smaller plants had already begun to regrow. Once the carriage was back on the road, the going was much smoother.

Mel had taken her place in the front of the carriage, consulting a map. Delahaye hung off the side, holding onto a rail. Everyone else had piled inside, relishing in the magically cooled interior. Mel wiped sweat from her brow, and took a sip from a canteen at her hip.

The elf had changed her wardrobe. Her simple grey dress and white apron were gone, replaced with a breathable, sleeveless tunic and baggy trousers, her laced boots replaced with sandals. Delahaye had been surprised to find tattoos spiralling up Mel's arms. They started at the shoulder, thin lines of ink swirling in helix patterns down to her wrists. Between each knuckle was a needle, which connected to the threads of ink.

“My P-Personal Crest,” Mel had said, raising an arm. “A surefire way to tell I am, well… m-me. Tattoos u-usually disappear between r-rank-ups… But not a Personal Crest. You can only g-get them at Iron, too. We all h-have them… We’ll get you one, t-too, eventually.”

Delahaye nodded, then returned to watching the area as they travelled. She couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it all. She had been quite sure that this place would be her new home, a place to start anew. The more she saw of this world, the more sure of that she became. Delahaye wanted to see it all.

“We’re c-coming up on the town of, uhm…” Mel consulted her map, pausing.

“H-Harrin’s Net. We’ll stop there to re-supply.”

…

Harrin’s Net was a town of moderate size, with several hundred residents who spent their days combing through the river that bisected their town. They made their money off of farming water quintessence gems, with the occasional Awakening Stone or Essence bringing a welcome boost to the town’s economy.

Mel brought the carriage to a stop in an area relegated for such vehicles. Their carriage was presently the only one there, so their parking options were expansive. Primrose took Mel and Samson to gather supplies, and Atarah remained in the carriage. That left Delahaye alone, and she took the opportunity to explore.

The town was lively, people making their way to and from the river, carrying woven baskets filled with fish, river plants, and piles of shining gems. The market district of Harrin’s Net was bustling, and Delahaye wandered from stall to stall, taking in everything that the merchants had to offer. The food was tantalising, and she couldn’t help but snag a steaming pastry. It was delicious, and she backpedalled to purchase an entire tray, depositing it into her conjured chest.

Food and drink put inside of it remained the same temperature, and never spoiled. It was mightily useful, and Delahaye had already stocked up on various foodstuffs from Nefir as she’d wandered about. She was more than eager to do the same in Harrin’s Net. Delahaye wove through the crowd, more than used to such crowds. This place was much like her own home, and she’d seen plenty like it in her travels.

Delahaye perked up when she noticed a tavern. She quickly made her way towards it. A sign hung over the entrance; The Riverside Jewel. It was a lovely building, the walls woven from reeds, the roof thatched. It lacked a door, like most of the buildings in Harrin’s Net. Delahaye pushed the thatch drape that took the place of a door, stepping into the tavern.

It was, all things considered, a standard establishment of its sort. A wide bar sat against one wall, and a dining area made up another two thirds of the open space. A stage took up the final area, though it was presently empty. It was mid-afternoon, and The Riverside Jewel was mostly empty, with only a handful of patrons at the tables or seated at the bar.

She made her way up to the bar, sliding into an open stool.

“What’s yer poison, Stranger?”

She was forced to tilt her head back to meet the eye of the bartender. They– she couldn’t determine their sex– were a massive, scaled creature with a head like a dragon, straight from the myths.

“You got brandy?”

The bartender grunted, turning around to grab a bottle from the middle shelf, pouring Delahaye a glass. She slid a bronze coin onto the counter, and the bartender palmed it. It had taken Delahaye a while to get her head around the currency, but she’d learned quick enough that a bronze coin could cover her drinks for a night.

She sipped, nodding appreciatively. It was a damn good brandy. Delahaye looked to her right. On that side sat an elderly human man, perhaps in his early seventies. Despite his age, he was stocky and hale, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. He raised his glass in a silent greeting, and Delahaye did the same.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Passin’ through?”

He had a voice like a man who recreationally chewed broken glass, but his tone was friendly. He reached up to adjust the brim of his wide straw hat, leaning on the counter.

“Aye, on my way to Greenstone,” Delahaye replied, swirling her glass before taking another drink. The man nodded thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

“Greenstone, eh? You’ve got the look of an Adventurer about you, am I right?”

Delahaye grinned, taking a drink. “Ayup. Trainin’ to be one, specifically. Got my field examination in a month.”

The old man nodded again. He didn’t speak for a while, and Delahaye simply enjoyed the atmosphere. It felt like home. She felt a sudden longing, then. For the first time, she missed home, she missed the familiar taverns, and familiar faces. Delahaye sighed, shaking her head. The bartender refilled her glass without asking, and she took a long pull. The burn of the alcohol took her mind off the sudden bout of homesickness.

“Adventurin’ is good business. My granddaughter is takin’ her examination, too. Same time as yours, I reckon.”

“Oh, aye? I’ll drink to that. What’s her name?”

Delahaye raised her glass, and the old man clinked his glass against it. They both took a drink.

“Dorothy, though everyone calls her Dotty. Dotty Lane. I’m Jarod,” he extended a hand, and Delahaye shook it. His calluses were a thick shell on his weathered palms, the result of decades of work. She recognized rope scars easily enough.

“Call me Delahaye. You work on ships? A sailor?”

Jarod raised his bushy brows, evidently a little surprised, but he nodded.

“I captain a fishin’ trawler, up an’ down the rivers. Been my family’s work for generations. Dotty broke the mould. We’d been savin’ for a set of Essences for a long, long time. We’re all proud of her.”

Delahaye smiled, nursing a few smaller sips from her glass. Jarod glowed with pride, nodding eagerly as he spoke. His granddaughter meant a lot to him, that much was clear.

“Well, if I run into her I’ll be sure to say hello.”

Jarod beamed, then rubbed his chin. He reached into his coat, pausing. He seemed to muse over whether or not to ask something, but finally he nodded.

“I hate to be a bother, but would you do me a favour? If you see Dotty, give her this for me, if you’d be so kind?”

He held out an envelope, and Delahaye took it gently. She tucked it into her own coat, placing it in one of the water-proofed pockets.

“Consider it done.”

She finished the last of her brandy, and slid the empty glass to the bartender. Delahaye set down another coin as she stepped away from the stool.

“For Jarod, here. Drinks are on me.”

The old fisherman extended a hand once more, and Delahaye shook it.

“Safe travels, Delahaye.”

“For you as well, Jarod.”

…

Delahaye wove her way through the streets, back towards the carriage. As she made her way through the crowd, a commotion up ahead caused the masses to ripple. Murmurs passed down from person to person, eventually making their way to Delahaye. It was likely a much-abridged version of what was happening, but she got the gist well enough. She slid through the gathered townsfolk, pushing to the front.

A group of rough-looking individuals stood in front of a store, arms crossed. The lot of them were garbed in armour that ranged from leather to half-plate, ragged cloaks hanging from their shoulders like funeral shrouds. A fifth was jabbing her finger into the chest of a quivering merchant.

“Payment is due, Kenneth. Past due, in fact. We’ve been damn lenient, so pay up!”

“I-I don’t have it!” The merchant, Kenneth, whimpered. The rugged woman growled, shoving him back. She made a gesture, and the other four people moved forwards, storming into the shop. It wasn’t long before things began to break, and all the merchant could do was watch, his bottom lip quivering.

“Maybe this’ll teach you to pay on time next time, Kenny dear?”

The woman’s voice was soft, mockingly so, and she delivered a swift kick to the merchant’s stomach that bowled him over. Her compatriots exited the shop, falling in behind their leader. She pointed from Kenneth, to his shop, and then to the gathered crowd.

“Maybe that’ll teach all of you! We keep you lot safe when the Adventurer’s Society don’t bother! The least you can do is keep us funded!”

Delahaye watched, lips pressed into a firm line. The woman reminded her of herself, as she had been. A bully and a braggart, extorting those weaker than herself. Delahaye’s brow furrowed. Viewing it from the outside… It changed things. This was how she had looked from the outside. The way she saw this woman now, how she acted, this was how the world had known Bloody Delahaye.

No. Not anymore.

Delahaye stepped forward, almost pausing mid-stride as her brain caught up with the actions of her body, but she continued forward. The realisations she had just made had ignited a fire in her belly, and guilt raked its claws through her mind. She’d done these things to survive, that’s what she had told herself– but what had she ever accomplished? Infamy? That garnered her nothing but the looming threat of capture, or death. Here she was, presented with a blank slate.

Presented with an opportunity to stop people like the old her.

Redemption is a long road, Del. Misery begets only misery. You talk about change, but I see none of that in you.

Eurydice’s words sprung into Delahaye’s mind like a thunderclap. They had been the last shared between them. Hearing them again stung like a reopened wound. She grit her teeth.

I’ll start down that road now, Eurydice.

“What have we here?”

The woman crowed, sneering up at Delahaye. She was a stocky woman of middling height, with ashen skin and a shaved head. Delahaye had been too far away before, but now she saw how the woman’s eyes shone like embers, and a heat haze billowed outwards from her constantly. Her companions were a motley bunch; a Human, a Celestine, an Elf, and one of the hulking Leonids. The ringleader was of a people Delahaye had only seen in passing; the Smoulder.

“Consider me a concerned citizen,” Delahaye said idly, stopping in front of the woman and her posse. She rested her hands on her hips, tapping her fingers in a staccato rhythm on her thigh.

“Extortion is pretty illegal, y’know… Just in case you missed the memo.”

The Smoulder snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah? And what’re you going to do about it?”

Delahaye put on a contemplative expression, tapping a finger to her bottom lip. Finally, she nodded, as if she’d finally come to a conclusion.

“Well, I reckon I’d stop you. As an upstandin’ member of the community ought to do!”

There was a tense moment as the two stared one another down– and then the Smoulder burst out laughing. Delahaye joined her a moment later, and she passed the shorter woman on the shoulder.

“Oh, you’re funny, stranger! Real funny!”

Delahaye chuckled, still holding her shoulder. She gave it a friendly squeeze, nodding.

“I know, right?”

Then, she conjured her hand cannon and shot the woman right in the chest.

…

Arrows continued to sail towards the carriage, and a few had already found their marks. The magical vehicle was protected, but each impact, and the ensuing explosion of force, rocked it like mad, threatening to tip it over.

Behind them, their pursuers gained ground, drawing nearer with each passing second. They rode a flat skimmer that hovered over the ground, propelled by some means Delahaye didn’t understand. It was the four remaining bandits, or whatever they were. They had been quick to give chase after Delahaye had blown a hole through their leader. The hand cannon was vicious at the middle distance Delahaye preferred to fire from– up close, however, it was an entirely different beast. She hadn’t anticipated the woman to die, considering the durability of monsters.

She’d been surprised, as had everyone else. Delahaye hadn’t stuck around, though. She’d sprinted back to the carriage, just as the others arrived.

“Mel! Drive!”

The elf had looked mightily confused, until she’d spotted the four enraged bandits in Delahaye’s wake.

“Wh–?”

“Just shut up and drive!”

One of the bandits fired explosive arrows from a conjured longbow, whilst another sent blasts of fire their way. The other two focused on operating the skimmer. They didn’t pilot their vehicle with the finesse that Mel did, who had proven to be an incredibly skilled driver.

A fireball arced over their heads, and Mel banked hard, sending the carriage into a spin. Delahaye held on for dear life. She looked to the elf, and the two shared a glance. It was a wordless exchange, yet they somehow got the point across. Delahaye let go, and magical threads sprung up around her, wrapping around her waist– anchoring her in place. She conjured a second hand cannon in her other hand, and levelled them both at their pursuers as the carriage completed its spin.

They were driving backwards.

Delahaye opened fire, pelting the bandits with magical rounds. One of the drivers made a gesture, conjuring a shield that deflected the projectiles.

Mel wove the carriage back and forth, dodging the continued onslaught of arrows. One of them found their mark, slamming into the top of the carriage right next to Delahaye. It blew a fist-sized hole in the roof, and threw Delahaye from the window. She dangled, dragged along the ground– only Mel’s threads kept her from going flying.

She should have been disoriented, yet the ringing in her ears faded fast, and she righted herself, kicking off of the ground as it flew by underneath. Delahaye fired as she did, and the shot found its mark, slamming into the fire-throwing bandit. It was too far away to kill her, but it threw her from her feet– and off the skimmer entirely. She bounced as she hit the ground, and did not rise again, left in a heap in the skimmer’s wake.

Delahaye’s kick had propelled her upwards, and she dismissed one of her hand cannons, grabbing hold of the rail on the side of the carriage. She held it tight as Mel whipped the carriage around once more. Turning around, she fired once more at the skimmer. The next shot took out one of the drivers, and another damaged the metal circle that, apparently, powered the entire thing. The moment Delahaye’s shot hit it, cleaving the ring apart, the skimmer went into an uncontrolled spin, flipping end-over-end before slamming into a tree.

With a triumphant cackle, Delahaye ducked back inside the carriage. Atarah was equally excited, but Primrose looked like she might detonate into a pyre of fury, and Samson had his shield conjured, protecting the heiress from the debris of the exploded roof.

“We will talk later,” Primrose said between clenched teeth. Delahaye waved her off, then pushed out of the window once more. She climbed out, crawling onto the roof, before dropping down to sit next to Mel. The elf shrieked in surprise, jumping out of her seat. She had anchored herself to the bench with threads, which kept her from sailing off the carriage entirely. Delahaye clapped her on the shoulder.

“Good drivin’! You’ve got a real knack for it!”

“Wh-What are you… doing o-out here?”

Delahaye waved a hand dismissively.

“Primrose is a little mad at me! Just a smidge!”

…

The backhand took Delahaye across the face, and she stumbled back, wincing. Primrose had been far, far angrier than Delahaye had expected, and the heiress had spent the better part of an hour since their arrival in Greenstone viciously berating her. She was majestically wroth, and damned terrifying.

She would have been even scarier if she hadn’t had to hop up to slap Delahaye.

“You gods-damned inconsiderate weasel! Do you ever think? Ever?! Could you not keep your head down and your hands to yourself for one day? You put every one of us in danger, Delahaye, and the townsfolk, too! Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

Delahaye shrugged, the picture of nonchalance.

“Saved those poor people from some bandits! I did them a service!”

Delahaye went down like a felled tree as Primrose kicked her legs out from under her. As she picked herself up, the enraged woman slapped her across the face, over and over.

“You’ve fucked them over, you idiot! The people in charge of those enforcers will come sniffing around, and with you not there to take the blame, they’ll take it out on the people of Harrin’s Net! You don’t ever think, do you? You just act, consequences be damned!”

Delahaye was stunned by the intensity of Primrose’s anger. She’d been cross with Delahaye before; repeatedly, in fact. They clashed often, but it had never escalated to violence. The other members of Primrose’s team had cleared out of the room like it was filled with poison gas– even Atarah had been cowed by the fury of her betrothed.

She flinched back as the room suddenly flared with heat. Primrose stood over her, hand raised, covered in flames.

And then, she froze.

Primrose looked to her hand, and then down at Delahaye. The heiress looked horrified. She remained locked in place, eyes transfixed on her blazing palm. The flames sputtered out, and Primrose let out a choked noise.

It clicked together in Delahaye’s mind, the realisation sudden and intense. The blazing palm. The hand-shaped burn scar on the heiress’ face.

“Just go,” she said, voice hollow.

“Just… Just leave, Delahaye. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t care what Lord Kenester says, it's because of you we had to leave Nefir, and I won’t have you jeopardise us in Greenstone, too.”

Primrose spoke in a whisper, each word lancing into Delahaye like a dagger.

Delahaye picked herself up, adjusting her coat. She nodded, face blank. Everything Primrose had said was true, and the clarity of it all was startling. Delahaye had thought herself to be helping, leaping to the rescue of a beleaguered town like a hero out of a folktale. But that was so very, very far from the truth.

She wanted to say something, to apologise… but the words didn’t come. She opened and closed her mouth, then turned away. Delahaye opened the door and strode away, head down, leaving the rest of Primrose’s group in her wake. They looked between her and Primrose, but they all filed into the room a moment later.

Delahaye winced as she heard the door close and lock behind her.