Clouds, it felt like she was floating on soft fluffy clouds. Turning to her side, the softness caressed her and smelled faintly of fresh baked bread. The sweet smell made her droll.
“Puh!” Amber jolted awake. The sudden jerk of movement caused the aching to hit her all at once, which threw her into a violent reel for a while.
Her surroundings were unfamiliar. A kidnapping? Doubtful, considering how her assailant had not only left her hands unbound, but bothered to tuck her into bed. Plus, her makeshift wrappings had been replaced with snow white bandages.
Calming down, she saw that she was in a dim lit inn room. Additionally, she noticed that the bed next to her own looked well slept in. In the far corner of the room there were also a few knapsacks and satchels were piled up, but what caught her eye most was the huge broadsword lent against the wall next to the door. The sword boasted a myriad of chips and red stains.
Perhaps staying put wasn’t in her best interest. She didn’t believe in charity, and didn’t want to stick around to find out what they wanted. Thus, Amber flipped off the fluffy blanket that wrapped her, but immediately regretted it.
Her body temperature went from a pleasant warmth to frigid shivering because aside for the bandages she had apparently been stripped nude. Worse, she noticed how clean she was, the usual grime was replaced by pliant milky skin. Her hair also had its natural chestnut color, and was unmangled enough to drop down and obscure her vision.
She felt vulnerable. She was now just a little girl with nothing, not even her filth. This brought about another frightening thought, where were her things? Her stuff! Virtues be damned, that coat had everything. Oh gods the coins, what happened to her first silver piece.
she took quick look at the weapons strewn around the room. She recognized the broadsword, the roundshield, a shortbow, and a few daggers of various sizes, but there were still blades that were foreign to her. Most notably there was a brutal looking war axe with its head shaped into a wicked looking hook and a spike pointing out the other end. There was also a few needle thin blades as long as her entire arm. Needless to say these folk were armed to the teeth, which caused Amber to feel a chill run down her back as her mind went wild imagining what ruthless killers her captors might be. She had get out of here, but she needed her stuff.
Amber climbed down from the bed, trying her best to ignore the aches. A pierce of cold stung each foot as she laid them against the floorboards to support her weight. Her first steps forward were uneasy as she was still shaking off the nausea, but she did her best to move to the knapsacks without making noise.
There were three large knapsacks and two satchels. Rummaging through the largest knapsack, she found only basic food supplies: hardtack, dried fruits, grains, and jerky. She also found a collection trinkets and necklaces made from the bones she didn’t recognize.
The smallest knapsack was filled with books of all sizes, but never having been taught to read, all Amber could tell was that they used pretty big words. She also found a pair of glasses. She had seen glasses before on passing merchants and nobles, but didn’t know what they were used for. She tried them on, but her curiosity was punished with a headache as her vision was stretched. Finally, was also an small metallic emblem hanging from a chain that depicted a winged lady with eleven arms all carrying something different. The detail was to the point that you could see the individual tears that ran down the her face. From what she could recall this was the symbol for the church of virtues. She knew because they often handed out soup from churches built on almost every street of this city, but Amber never went due to some of the faith’s deep disdain of warped folk.
Upon opening the final knapsack she found her prized coat and rags, albeit a bit bloody and worse for wear. She checked the garment. Yup, every stain and makeshift pocket was where it should be, especially the 1 silver and 12 copper pieces she took a beating to obtain. She put on her coat, feeling safe in the familiar earthy scents and scratchy textures.
After acquiring her belongings, Amber pocketed the glasses and a few of the bone trinkets to sell later. She felt a bit guilty, but living in the slums meant taking every opportunity you could get.
She finished looking through the last knapsack only to find it filled with dried herbs, a few needle like daggers, and corked jars of what she assumed to be ingredients. Was one of them a cook? Amber picked up what appeared to be some sort of a dried seed pod. The shell of the pod was rough and prickly. Holding it up to candlelight, amber noticed a faint glow from the opening of the shell. Curious, she tried to pry it open. Despite it’s frail dried appearance, shell of the pod was ridgid like a rock, so Amber began prying with a combination of all her fingers and used her palms as leverage.
The shell startled her as it snapped open with a crack, sending a burst of fluorescent dust into the air. The particles resembled countless of dust sized fireflies as they floated in wisps around her head, their trails of glowing gold reflecting in her big wet eyes. Amber wavered her hands at the particles which were pushed away. At this point, she let out an uncharacteristic giggle.
Excited, she uncorked a bottle holding something similar to honey. Putting her nose into the glass container, she felt her nostrils flower as scent of fresh baked bread, her favorite, filled her mind. To her surprise, the smells transition from bread to the charcoaled aroma of grilling meat. The scent then turned soft and milky for a while before going back to baked bread.
Too delighted to consider her potential position as a captive, Amber uncorked another of the jars and took in a whiff. Instead of whatever wondrous experience she held in her imagination, an abrasive roasted scent burned its way down into her nostrils. The rampant burning caused globs of tears to begin gushing from her eyes. Half blinded and sniffling like a lunatic, She still somehow managed to recork the jar in her panic. Pulled back into reality by the rude awakening, she decided not to explore further into the knapsack of ingredients, and instead moved on to the two remaining satchels.
In the first satchel she sifted through a random hodgepodge of equipment. Rope, rolls of thread, bells, and other plenty of other items that Amber didn’t recognize. She pocketed the few odd rolls of thread but left most the rest alone, unable to think of a good use for the stuff.
In the last satchel, there were more of these odds and ends, but as her hand blindly bumped around the very bottom of the satchel, she felt a very familiar flat round shape through a thin fabric. With a heft, Amber pulled out the object in question to reveal three bulging coin pouches. Amber’s hand jarred as the this was an amount of coins the naive mind of a slum orphan couldn’t even begin to grasp.
She peeked into one of the pouches; Gold, the bag contained exclusively gold and silver coins. Amber had never even seen Gold coin in her life. She knew that a silver was worth a lot of copper, so she couldn’t even guess how much copper a gold could be traded for. A hundred, A thousand? With this she could finally leave the slums! She could finally see what it was like on the other side of the stone walls that trapped her in here. Her mind raced with the possibilities as her fingers greedily shoveled the coins into her pockets until her every movement caused her to jingle like a bag of marbles.
However, a creeping guilt eventually forced her to put back most of the coin; pocketing only 8 gold and 16 silver pieces. She was an diehard opportunist for sure, but even a street urchin like her would hesitate to take so much money from people who saved her life, especially if they were armed to the teeth.
Sliding the coin pouches back into the satchel, her hand brushed against something new that sent a chill up the center of her arm. Going back to palm the small object blindly in the bag, she figured it was some sort of metallic container. Despite her wish to know the identity of the potentially valuable item, something instinctual gave her the strange feeling that she should forget about it and leave it alone. This feeling caused her to stay her hand, but her growing curiosity kept her fingers clutched to its cold surface. Eventually curiosity won as she steeled her mind to pull the container out from the depths of the satchel.
As her eyes laid themselves upon the violet wood of the case being lifted from the satchel, The room fell still. It was as if all the sounds in the world suddenly flooded out, leaving behind a deafening silence that roared even over her own heartbeats. She was suffocating. No, she just couldn’t hear her own breaths it felt as though she was suffocating. She kept breathing deeper and deeper, but no matter how hard she filled her lungs they still felt stifled. She wanted to scream, or was she already screaming. She couldn’t tell.
She had to open the case. She didn’t know why, but she had too. She wanted too, of course she did. It was all she ever wanted. It would have all been for nothing if she didn’t open the it. Her fingers dug into the sides of the lid. Yes, your so close to the end. Everything will be alright if you just open the case. Your perfect Amber. Why aren't you listening Amber. Everyone wants you to open the case Amber. Open the case. Open the goddamn case Amber.
She held the case in both both hands straight out in front of her, but her arms were shaking all over. Was she crying? Her mouth gaped open as every muscle in her body screamed out. She applied pressure upon the side of the lid, but she was too scared to finish it.
The sounds of muffled conversation approaching from the other side of the door sliced through the silence like a dagger. The box fell back into the satchel and out of site as her fear gripped fingers went lifeless as if severed from whatever bound them. With the box gone, the sounds of the night sneaked they’re way back into the room and the flickering of the candlelight seemed to brighten. Amber breathed out a sigh of relief as the beating of her heart filled the inside of her head once more. Color flushed back into her cheeks and her forehead broke into a cold sweat.
Luckily, the muffled conversation turned into a muffled argument as the sounds stopped getting closer a ways from the door, and the talking became more aggressive. This allowed Amber a few second of recovery, but upon realizing her predicament Amber darted to the window in a flurry of movement caused by split second panic. She tried to lift it open, but to her dismay child level strength fell too short of overcoming what must have been decades of rusting. The muffled conversation began moving closer again to the point that she could even hear footsteps now. Left with no other option, Amber bolted to the bed. She hopped up, stuffed her coat beneath the pillow, and tucked herself into bed just as the doorknob twisted open.
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“Not only do you keep giving away your share, you also pick up random urchins from the street every time we stop at a city.” A woman burst into the room, she was holding a pitcher “What I do is my business.” Grumbled the gramps who followed her.
“But Garrot, your business is our business as well. We’re supposed to be a team, you can at least use your earnings on supplies or equipment.” The lady set the pitcher down on the nightstand next to Amber’s bed. Amber, who was pretending to be asleep, peeked one eye open. The lady had high cheekbones and her curly ginger hair tied back into a neat ponytail.
“What I have works just fine Paddy” The rough cut gramps pulled up a chair to the foot of Amber’s bed.
The ginger haired lady, presumably Paddy, rolled her eyes up as if to show how often they have had this conversation. “Garot, there are more patches on your boots then actual leather. Your clothes are half decayed, and your axehead is on the verge of falling off.”
Paddy brushed Amber’s hair aside and touched the back of her hand to Amber’s forehead. The sudden touch of cold pallid skin made Amber jolt a bit. Luckily, Paddy didn’t seem to notice as she turned back towards Garrot. “At the very least get your axe repaired, and stop picking up random vagrants” She asked.
The shaggy old man looked back at her with a pair sharp eyes separated by a beak like nose. Meanwhile, he bit the bottom of his lip on an old gash that split his mouth open down to his chin. “Fine,” he finally replied and broke his gaze.
Apparently quite amused by the fact that she somehow managed to get through to the stubborn old man, the lady turned back to Amber and lifted the blanket to check the bandages on her arm and leg. In particular, she lifted Amber’s arm and softly bent it a few times. “Good, the bleeding has stopped, she’s lucky her wounds were shallow or she might have lost function of her hand.” She then proceeded to touch their foreheads together.
With her eyes closed Amber could really smell the scent of dusty old books from the lady. She tried not to blush as she imagined the lady’s freckled face so close to hers.
“Her fever has gone down, but she’s sweating so much. Garrot, I’m going back downstairs to see if I can get something to wipe her down with. Stay here and watch her.” Amber felt her weight lean off the bed and heard lady walked out. However shortly after, she popped back “make sure she gets some water in her when she wakes up.” she said. Garrot only grunted in reply.
The lady shut the door behind her as she left, leaving Amber alone with the old man. From her sleeping pose, Amber couldn’t see what the old man was doing. All she could perceive were his heavy breaths. She prayed that he would leave soon so that she could make her escape.
“I'm not stupid you know.” the old man coughed from his seat at the foot of the bed. Amber laid still as a rock. She heard the chair creak as he stood up and paced to the side of the room where the knapsacks were. “For a thieving rugrat, you sure left a noticeable trail. Not even Brunne’s pack has ever been such a mess.” Amber could hear the man start to reorganize the knapsacks to their original state. Her ruse having been exposed, her eyes clicked open to look at the man.
“Better,” he said as he finished repacking and turned around to meet her gaze, “the name’s Garrot.” The rugged old man sat back down at the foot of the bed while Amber scanned him from head to toe from her pillow. He had a head full of messy longish grey hair marked by random white streaks. He wore shawl made from numerous pelts sewn together, but underneath his clothes were no better than hers. From his neck hung a hodgepodge of stones, tiny vials, and trinkets. All this added up to create a wild appearance, but despite the fact his beard was cut short and well groomed. Even the random white streaks seemed to order themselves. However, what caught Amber’s wandering gaze the most were the pair of calm predatory eyes glaring back at her like some small animal not even worth hunting for lunch.
“Mute?” He mocked.
Pinned under his pressured gaze, she sunk deeper into the safety of the blankets. “Amber,” she whimpered.
Garrot only grunted at the response, he had revealed a long thin smoking pipe and was too focused on trying to pack some sort of herbal paste into the small bowl at the end. Only when he was finished, he spoke, “So Amber, where’d you hide the loot.”
A bit more comfortable now that Garrot stared outside the window instead of at her, Amber produced the coin and trinkets from under her pillow.
“That all of it?” Garrot asked
Amber nodded her head, but he shot her a doubtful look. This prompted her to cough up the rest of the extra coin she tried to pocket. Whelp, there goes any opportunity at profit. Amber felt a tinge of regret for spending too long messing around instead of running away, but most of all she regretted laying her eyes upon the violet box, whose unknown contents have yet to leave her mind. Willing to do anything to forget about the box, Amber tried to converse with the old man, who seemed to be getting bored.
“Why?” She asked.
“Why what.” Garrot replied.
“Help someone like me.” She said.
“An orphan?” he asked.
“No” She said.
“A warped,” he answered once more, but Amber remained silent. Garrot starred at her in thought, as if he has mused over this many times before. “Do I need a reason?” he said, as he touched the tip of his index finger to end of the pipe. A small spark jumped out and ignited the paste in the bowl.
Amber was confused at Garrots reply. Why would he save her without reason? He must have had something to gain from this. “You want to sell me.” She asked, trying to probe the man’s face for any indication of his true intentions.
The old man’s bushy eyebrows raised as he exhaled a plume of smoke through is nostrils. To Amber, the smoke reeked of tobacco and plums. “We aren’t slave herders,” He stated, “We’re sellswords.”
“Then why save me?” She asked.
Seeing her persistence for a proper answer, Garrot huffed deep from his pipe. “It wasn’t your time yet”
“That makes no sense,” Amber felt upset, her wounds began to sting. “Why couldn’t you have let me die? What do I have to live for? There were so many others you could have helped instead of me.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t your time yet.” said Garrot.
“I don't understand” Amber said.
“I’ve seen death many times, child. I’ve seen the peace that comes to folks just before they die, that moment of realization, that dejected acceptance. Yet, you were different, there was still a fire in you.” The chair creaked as Garrot leant back “I picked you up because I wanted to give you a proper burial so that you may rest in peace. Yet, everytime I thought you were gone, that little heart of yours would gasp for another breath. Your body was holding on to that flickering flame, refusing to let it go.”
Amber sat silent, not knowing how to reply.
“Wasn’t your time yet” repeated Garrot.
The two sat in awkward silence as Amber remembered the distinct feeling of unfulfillment she had before being saved. She wallowed in the idea that she was nothing more than some nameless orphan destined to live and die in some alleyway. Were these slums all she was destined to know? She was so busy trying to survive day to day to even picture the possibility of leaving Heimsfell. Hells, she didn’t even know what the closed off noble districts looked like. Amber lied swamped in confusion until the rumbling of her stomach broke the silence.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He pointed to the pitcher of water on the nightstand. “I’ll get you some food later, so just drink some water for now.”
Having no reason to disobey, Amber took to the pitcher and tried to pour water into a mug. However, the weight of the pitcher was too much for her injured arm, so she was forced to lean the pitcher on the nightstand. She then held the wooden mug up to her mouth, trying her best to focus on the cool refreshing water flowing down her throat. Yet, thoughts of her helpless fate still haunted her, but strangest of all the violet case kept coming to mind. The whispers in the back of her mind stopped pleading, and instead began convincing her that whatever lied inside the box was the answer to her troubles. That if she just clicked opened the case, it would help her escape from the slums, it would end her constant hunger, and she wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again. No, these are lies. They have to be lies. It’s messing with her mind.
She wanted to ask Garrot about it, but for some reason her lips were sealed. It seemed like Garrot was going to say something first until the door jarred open and in came Paddy, Who nearly dropped the tray she was carrying when she saw Amber.
“She’s warped! You didn’t tell me you brought back a warped!” Paddy screamed, before diving into a rant at how Garrot had crossed a line, and how this was one of many last straws.
“So what if she’s got different looking eyes” Garrot muttered.
“So what? So what! She’s been touched by that corruption! Look at how it’s pupils are moving, she’s not human anymore. It’s only a matter of time loses her mind and starts attacking us. Oh virtue’s mercy, I helped bath that thing. She might have corrupted me as well.” She wailed
“Calm god’s sake down,” said Garrot “Those are only myths. Plus, we’ve killed many things more dangerous than some owl eyed child.”
Amber grew uncomfortable at the shift in conversation towards killing her.
“Garrot, when things get warped they become monsters. Doesn’t matter if they use to be docile, they become killers. Who’s not to say that it won’t try to slit our throats when we aren't looking. Oh gods, are those coins on the bed. Did it steal from us!” Paddy grew hysteric, and Garrot tried to calm her down.
Amber hated to admit it, but Paddy was partially right. Not just the freakish eyes, she was a lier, a thief, and a scoundrel. She couldn’t even count the number of times she had lead people to their deaths at the hands of thugs and cutthroats, or looted bodies looking for quick money. Mabey she was a warped monster. She wasn’t like other orphans who begged and starved to death.
At this point Paddy had mostly calmed down and sat on the far end of the bed next to Amber’s bed. Despite this apparent aversion to warped folk, Paddy still gave Amber the tray of food and checked the state of her bandaging, albeit at an emotional distance. Paddy’s coldness didn’t bother Amber, she was used to having her existence ignored or distained.
Paddy had brought a thick stew of root vegetables and rat meat as well as a few biscuits of fresh hardtack. Her diet usually consisted of stale breads and rotting produce sold for cheap. She couldn’t even try to eat the rats she trapped in the sewer because she had no way of cooking them and the income from selling them was too vital. Thus, Amber couldn’t resist the rich scent of warm food and started shoveling the food down her gullet as soon as it was set before her. The slight floury taste of the biscuits, the sweet soft roots, and the stringy meat all drove her scuff down the meal until she had to pound her chest to get a piece of food in her throat unstuck.
“Stop eating like a starved animal before you choke yourself,” Paddy grimaced at Amber’s eating habits, “Heavens above, how could something so small eat so much”
Garrot chuckled at this, “eats just like Brunne.” This caused Paddy to give Garrot a look that showed she didn’t think it was funny.
“Speaking of Brunne, we’re gonna have to have a little discussion about fixing your little habits when he gets back from turning in that bounty” said Paddy.
The two made proceed to make small talk for a while. Amber didn’t notice what they were saying as she was too entranced in licking her plate clean. As she savored the satisfying feeling of a full stomach warming your insides, she listened to the two talk. She didn’t understand most of the details, but it appeared that they were planning a big trip and a few jobs as they rested here in Heimsfell. This conversation continued until nightfall when Paddy relented to let Amber stay with them for a few days as Garrot tried to find a better solution than leaving Amber back out on the streets. This came as a pleasant surprise to Amber because this meant that she could enjoy this bed for a bit longer. She fell asleep to the thoughts that things might finally be going her way.
That night she dreamt that rats ate her alive.