“You want to leave?!” Annabelle cried, her voice reverberating off the walls of the empty church.
Ilya sat in the frontmost pew before her, looking vaguely surprised, as if she didn’t expect the request to be received so poorly.
“It hasn’t even been a week- I don’t…” Ilya must have had only bad memories of that town, she must have hated it with all her heart, and yet she wanted to return so soon? “Why?”
Ilya fidgeted with her fingers, their shared gaze breaking. “…The city is loud and there’s too many people… plus I have stuff I still need to do back home.”
“What ‘stuff’!? What could be possibly so important?” The saint’s confusion spilled over into the spoken word, the sound of her outburst returning to her ears and making her cringe internally. She didn’t want to shout at Ilya, but she couldn’t calm her spinning mind.
There were so many questions she could ask- so many bargaining pleas she could make or things she could do to get Ilya to stay.
She could appeal to emotion: the short but meaningful few days filled with kindness and new experiences and companionship.
She could appeal to practicality: remind her that there was no guaranteed support system anywhere else, no stable shelter or food she could rely on.
She could just say no: she could forbid Ilya from going anywhere near that town- force her to stay in the abbey for the rest of her life.
But would any of that even work?
Ilya had no emotional attachment to anything in the city apart from exactly two people, and those attachments were newborn and fragile. Imprisonment would only twist their bond into a set of chains, a thing to be broken and escaped from. She was a sneaky and clever girl, and everything she owned could fit on her person at once; loss of stability be damned, if Ilya wanted to escape, she would do so. For the slight against her freedom, Annabelle would never see her again.
“There’s nothing I can do to deter you, is there?” She asked her ward sadly. Ilya shook her head, causing a lock of black hair to fall into her eyes. Of course there wasn’t.
At such an impasse, the only way forward was flexibility. If Ilya wanted to go, Annabelle would have to let her and figure things out from there. Perhaps she would ultimately have to follow, leaving her flock of many behind to better shepherd one lost lamb.
“Are you wanting to leave immediately?” She hoped for a negative response; there was so much she would have to do to ensure Ilya’s success and prevent a return to squalor. There was even more to do to were she to indeed follow: the process to request an extended leave of absence would take a week at the very least, not to mention the issues that would arise regarding morning service.
“Soon.” Ilya confirmed with two slow nods. “…Today.” She specified a few seconds later.
Annabelle sighed, her eyelids falling shut. There went that hope. “Then… at least let me prepare some supplies and find someone to escort you.”
Slowly stepping down from the altar’s chancel, Annabelle placed a hand atop the short wooden wall that kept her from crouching in front of Ilya like she wanted. “I know you can take care of yourself, but it would make me feel better at least.”
Ilya’s eyes flicked from her own fingers to Annabelle’s, holding there before slowly making the journey up to the saint’s face. “I know someone I could go with.”
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Lucia awoke to the sound of knocking at the door of her rented room- someone here to bother again her no doubt. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone?
She laid there for a moment, eyes closed, listening to the occasional rapping of knuckles against wood and feeling an utter lack of the rejuvenation that was supposed to follow sleep.
She never found out why Annabelle was so tired the other day. Maybe they had something in common after all.
When the knocking resumed, Lucia rolled out of bed onto her hands and knees, casting a rude remark towards the door to let the person behind it know she was alive. Staring at the floor for a few seconds longer than necessary, Lucia finally rose to her feet, shuffling to the door to lambaste whoever interrupted her terrible unsatisfying unconsciousness.
“What.” She greeted with a grumpy scowl, a nun was standing at her door, hands folded primly in front of her.
“Miss Lucia correct?” The sister asked and Lucia confirmed with a slow nod.
“You have been summoned by the Saint of Amasur. I ask you to please come with me.”
Her heart dropped an inch in her chest. For a brief few seconds Lucia worried the church had somehow sniffed her out- that this nun was here to escort her towards judgment. But she had gone through all that effort to hold back in the sewers hadn’t she? Not even a saint was that good.
“What does she want?” Lucia grumbled, pushing down her anxieties to focus on the irritation instead. “I was trying to sleep.”
“Saint Annabelle has a job for you specifically. The church is prepared to compensate you for your trouble.”
‘Yeah, you better be.’ Lucia thought. She hadn’t charged for the saint’s last favour, but she wasn’t her little fucking errand girl to be called up anytime.
The sister and the adventurer locked eyes for a while, indignant glare versus disciplined stoicism. Behind the nun Lucia could see rays of sun shining through the windows; by the amount of light alone she knew it had to be around noon. As useless and unfulfilling as it was, she had slept in.
She focused back on the sister. “Make yourself useful and get me breakfast, then maybe I’ll see what your saint has to say.” Then she slammed the door in the nun’s face.
Lucia turned back from the door to look over her small room, staring first at her bed and then at the pile of clothes and leather belts on the floor. If it was just one of those days, it was just one of those days; trying to sleep more would be a waste of time. But was she really going to voluntarily walk into a church, just because they said they were going to pay her?
Kicking the rest of the pile aside, she found her brown shorts and white shirt, pulling the shorts up to her hips and replacing her overly large sleeping shirt with the more fitted, cuffed one. Her extra pair of socks was hanging over the back of the room’s only chair, her brown cloak folded haphazardly on the seat and her similarly coloured footwear standing tall next to it.
Lucia picked up the cloak and tossed it over onto the bed, sitting down and beginning the slow process of putting on and lacing up her knee high boots.
What could the saint possibly want from her that she couldn’t get elsewhere? It couldn’t have just been because they had worked together before; a saint surely had countless paladins at her beck and call, ones she had known far longer than a few days.
“Tch.” She hissed, grumbling to herself. “She’s probably wants to make me fight some ridiculous monster and then steal my kill again.”
When her boots were laced up all the way, Lucia stood back up to attach her many belts and sheathes, the ones around her legs first and the one across her chest last. She felt across the bandolier of throwing knives, one slot still empty from the fight in the sewers.
Maybe she should make Annabelle buy the replacement, since it was the saint’s fault the old one was irrecoverable. ‘Stupid brightass attack.’ There was no way she was going to locate and take it back from the undead’s corpse when the corpse no longer existed and she couldn’t know where exactly it used to be.
When she opened her door again, fully dressed and cloak billowing behind her, the nun was still there. For a second Lucia thought she hadn’t moved at all, but then the nun raised her hands to offer a rather appetizing looking sandwich.
“You… actually got me breakfast.” Lucia stated, surprised and confused but nonetheless pleased.
“I have strict orders to convince you by any means necessary.” The sister replied, handing over the meal.
Lucia puffed in amusement, brining the sandwich to her mouth. “Well I’m glad you chose this instead of blasting me with a light beam.” The lettuce made a satisfying crunch as her incisors sliced it apart- she could almost taste the soil it was grown in.
“My orders are to convince you, not to antagonize you.”
She took the nun in again as she chewed, scanning her red eyes up and down before eventually swallowing her bite. “…Fine. I’ll at least go and hear what the job is. But we’re walking slow, I want to finish this.”
The nun bowed in acceptance. “Very well, Miss.”
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The walk over was a peaceful one, much of the stress and annoyance of crowded streets alleviated by the care many people took to avoid roughing around the nun leading her. It was less than the parting of the seas that occurred when she walked behind Annabelle, but the power of the church in Flavenport was still felt, even from a simple sister.
By the time Lucia stood in front of the double doors of the Church of Amasur, the peaceful feeling had given way once again to vague anxieties. She wasn’t going to burst into flames as soon as she entered, was she?
“Saint Annabelle is waiting for you.” The nun pressed, opening one of the doors for her and gesturing inside. “Please be respectful in her presence.”
Lucia let out a single huff of air, mouth twisting into a frown. “Let’s get this over with.” The less time she spent here the better.
The cathedral was just as opulent inside as it looked from the outside, marble and gold and brass everywhere she looked, light reflecting easily off of polished surfaces to jab her in the eye.
Ilya and the saint were sitting together at the other end of the hall, the former listening intently as the latter quietly explained something to her.
The sound of the door closing behind the adventurer alerted Ilya to her presence, those doll like grey eyes flicking to the side and locking in on her instantly. “…Lucia’s here.” She announced pointlessly, the saint definitely already knew that.
Annabelle gracefully slid from the pew to stand tall in the centre of the aisle, the sun spotlighting her form through the church’s great windows. The veil covering her hair seemed to melt into the light of day, giving the saint a heavenly aura that only increased Lucia’s unease.
“Welcome, Miss Lucia. Thank you for coming.”
“I’ve answered your little summons, now start talking.” She snapped at the priestess, no longer in the mood to humour her with pleasantries. Annabelle for her part didn’t seem to mind, getting straight to business. “Ilya tells me you’re thinking of heading for the highlands.” She began. “If this is still the case, I have something important to ask of you.”
Lucia broke eye contact with the saint, shifting to the subject of their discussion, stood on her knees atop the pew and leaning over the top of the backrest. The street rat stared at her unblinkingly, expression unreadable.
The saint matched her glance towards the girl before returning to centre. “Ilya has revealed a desire to return home. I ask you to be the one to escort her there and watch over her until I can relieve you.”
Lucia crossed her arms and breathed in slowly, glancing around the cathedral at random objects while she thought. ‘More babysitting, huh?’
It was an easy sounding job: doing something she was already planning on doing, just with an extra 50 pounds of baggage. Ilya would also be leagues less whiny and annoying than the merchants she had escorted in the past; all the girl needed to be satisfied was an occasional explanation and maybe a bit of bread.
Her company wasn’t too bad either.
A sigh let her held breath finally escape. “You’re paying for the transport I assume? All her supplies?”
Annabelle nodded once. “When I sent Sister Janine to fetch you, I sent others to hire the boat and purchase everything Ilya will need.”
“How long am I responsible for her?” She asked next. “What’s the timeframe?”
Hanging around with the kid was fine for a while, but she doubted Annabelle would want her bundle of joy going on any dangerous quests without her, meaning Lucia would be out of work until the saint arrived.
“One week minimum, three at the latest. You will be paid by the day, starting now.”
“Fee increase every day over that estimate.”
“Done.”
Annabelle was really serious about this, immediately answering all of her questions and instantly accepting all of her conditions.
The kid didn’t even know how good she had it; she had found someone who seemed to really care about her, enough to go through all this trouble.
“Fine, I’ll do it.” Lucia huffed, dropping her arms. There really wasn’t any reason to refuse.
The saint actually bowed in response, her blonde braid hanging down beneath her. “Thank you, Miss Lucia. This means a lot to me.”
“We going as soon as possible?” She turned to Ilya who began to nod rapidly before shifting back to Annabelle who looked less sure. “It will… still take some time to prepare everything. Tomorrow morning would be best.”
“Enough time to cut my rental agreement and pack my things.” Lucia hummed, fighting back a smirk as she watched Ilya shuffle over to impatiently poke at her caretaker’s shoulder.
“I know Ilya, I know.” Annabelle soothed, running her fingers through jet black hair. “Can I make it up to you somehow? Maybe we can go to the library and I can read to you.”
It took the girl a few seconds to process the concept, but once the suggestion went through, her enthusiasm returned full force. For once the excitement reached her eyes, the tiniest sparks flaring behind dull glass.
The saint allowed herself to be pulled by the arm towards the doors, meeting eyes with Lucia on the way. “We’ll meet back here at dawn.”
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Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Lucia was no stranger to leaving town on short notice. Over the course of her life, she had been required to do so many times, but the process was normally more panicked and rushed. The latest link in the chain was almost relaxing by comparison: neatly packing everything with precision, getting a solid eight hours of actual sleep, and handing her room keys directly to the landlord instead of throwing them during a mad sprint.
The trio met outside the church as planned, Annabelle wearing a solemn look and Ilya saddled with a brand new rucksack, heavy with supplies for the journey ahead. The girl wobbled on her feet initially, unused to the weight on her spine, but as they crossed the still setting up central market her steps gradually became more steady.
Watching for a moment as Annabelle helped Ilya down the stairs, Lucia looked up and out over the city’s lower level; then beyond to the harbour, its waters sparkling in the morning light.
‘A whole day spent out there, huh.’ She thought, feeling herself brighten a little. ‘Been a while.’ She hadn’t set foot on a boat in years, but hopefully her sea legs hadn’t left her.
The vessel Annabelle had hired was a modest thing: large enough to carry cargo in addition to human passengers, but small enough that the helmsman could keep both port and starboard waters comfortably in view.
As the trio approached the boat, they could see the crew running back and forth across the deck, making final adjustments. The captain was stood on the dock before his vessel, holding his hands out to the hull which began glowing a deep blue.
“What’s he doing?” Ilya inevitably asked.
Lucia knew exactly what he was doing, and it killed her good mood. “Hydromancy.” She should have expected it.
When the girl’s wide eyed expression begged for elaboration, she reluctantly continued. “He’s setting up [ Countercurrent ]- it counters currents. Sea vessels use it to ignore big ocean swells or choppy waters, but around here they’re probably focused more on the flow of the river and lake.”
“Wow, you know a lot about this.” Ilya commented, sounding impressed.
Lucia huffed a joyless laugh in reply, looking away from both the girl and the boat. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
“Ah! Saint Annabelle.” The captain sauntered up to the trio when he noticed them, removing his wide brimmed hat in greeting. “The ship’s as ready as she can be. Is this here your ‘valuable cargo?’” He beamed down at the little lady stood between the two taller ones.
Annabelle placed a hand on the top of her ward’s head. “This is Ilya, and yes, she is quite valuable- priceless in fact.” As she emphasized the word her expression became severe, her bright blue eyes drilling into the captain’s soul before introductions suddenly continued.
“Miss Lucia here has been hired to escort her home.”
Lucia said nothing in response, stepping past the captain and onto the ship’s deck, feeling the slight shift and give of buoyancy beneath her feet.
Vestigial habit had Lucia’s eyes scanning the vessel for faults in the rigging or docking lines, stopping herself before she could go around and critique every single knot.
“Let’s get going.” She said, turning to the girl who was now her responsibility. “No more waiting around; there’s a long trip ahead.”
Annabelle regained that solemn look on her face. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” It was time to say goodbye.
After a moment’s pause the saint caught her ward in a tight hug, her billowy sleeves draping over the girl’s shoulders and surrounding her in softness. Ilya didn’t reciprocate, standing there limply with a puzzled expression on her face as if she didn’t fully understand what was happening to her.
“Be safe.” The saint murmured next to Ilya’s ear. “I’ll come for you as soon as I can.”
When she finally pulled away from the hug, Annabelle set her hands on Ilya’s shoulders, squeezing gently as she looked the girl straight in the eyes.
“You’re not alone in this world.” She declared, the tug of her lips small yet no less warm. “Not anymore; not ever again.”
“…Okay.” Ilya accepted, nodding to herself. “Bye, Annabelle.”
When the saint finally let Ilya go, Lucia helped the little waif onto the ship, lifting her by the back of her bag when she almost tripped. It was shocking just how easy it was to carry her, even with the added weight of her supplies.
With all passengers and cargo safely aboard, the captain began shouting his commands. “Cast off! To open waters!” The crew was quick, untying the boat from the dock in less than a minute, setting the vessel free floating out into the harbour.
As they drifted from the dock, Annabelle’s waving figure slowly shrank into the distance, further and further until she eventually blurred and became one grain of sand among many.
“Set sail! To Grannford!”
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Greater Lake Rollant, sometimes just called The Great Lake, was the largest single body of water in Louterre, fed to its monstrous size by snowmelt and rain flowing down from the upper reaches. It was the heart of the northwestern kingdom, countless vessels crossing its waters yearly, connecting the many cities and villages that bordered its shores in trade and in travel.
There was no scent of salt in the air as Lucia leaned against the ship’s railing, watching the waves part beneath her. The absence was tragic, but the feeling of being on the water again was enough for her to let it go.
“Whoa.” Ilya’s exclamation drew Lucia’s attention away from the waves, first to her face and then from her eyes to the object of her stunned awe.
The sheer cliffs of the highland were visible on the opposite shore, walls of stone hundreds of metres high towering over everything. As their vessel drew closer to the river’s mouth, the cliffs seemed to grow ever taller until the pair had to tilt their heads back to view the whole thing.
“I live up there?!” Ilya pointed at the cliff face, eyeing the grey branches that poked over the edge.
“You don’t live anywhere, you’re homeless.” Lucia snarked in reply, before her brain helpfully reminded her that she didn’t live anywhere either. Even though she had the money to rent a roof over her head when she needed it, Lucia was, in the most literal sense of the word, also homeless.
“I was in a box the whole first ride so I didn’t get to see them…” Ilya continued, having either not heard or just completely ignored the adventurer’s jab.
As the boat continued into the river, the cliffs crept closer and closer until their sides sloped and slid into the water of the left bank. The steep terrain was just flat enough for small shrubs and grasses to take root, but the shoreline was littered with the slowly decaying remnants of overachievers that had tested the limits.
A large bird perched on the debris, eyes focused intensely on the water below. In a precise and deadly motion, the creature’s long beak jabbed forward into the river, yanking out a sizeable fish. Violently shaking its prey to cease its struggling, the heron looked up at the two humans, regarding them for a few seconds before unfolding its four wings and flying away upriver. The boat followed, but eventually lost sight of the bird when it banked right and disappeared into the untouched wilderness.
With the minor distraction gone, all that was left to pass the time with was watching the scenery go by, sometimes conversing about it, sometimes not, and occasionally picking at the food Annabelle had packed into Ilya’s bag.
Eventually getting bored of the cliffs she had been previously awestruck by, the grey eyed girl had begun to whittle, repeatedly cutting into a bit of wood that she had seemingly materialized from nowhere. With no equivalent hobby, Lucia could only watch, intermittently lulled by the sound of waves into naps that never lasted.
A few hours later the boat reached the calmer waters of Lesser Lake Maria, the stone wall that had been always at their side finally bending away. The cliffs wrapped around the lake’s northwestern shore, tapering off in the east as its multiple tributaries eroded the earth and turned a sheer drop into a gradual incline.
“Why does the cliff have a hole in it?” Ilya spoke, pointing across the water with her knife, a misshapen wooden carving held at her side.
“Uhh… looks like a shore cave.” Lucia answered, bringing a flat hand to her brow to better see the dark recess in the rock. The fact that they could see it at all at this distance told her the opening was incredibly large, which in turn put the enormity of the cliffs into further perspective. “A fuckin’ big one.”
“What’s in it?”
The adventurer shrugged. “Water? Fish? I don’t know, I’m not from here.” The last one she had seen contained a boat and a weird hermit, so anything went.
A deckhand that had been passively listening to their conversation spoke up. “Rumours between seadogs say it’s home to some kinda monster. One that doesn’t like visitors.”
“Adventurers couldn’t handle a mystery like that.” Lucia commented, stepping aside to let him adjust the sails. “Surely a party’s already gone in to take a look?” She added afterwards.
“Aye, a few. But when you ask ‘em, they can never remember what’s inside.”
“So what, a siren? That sounds like they got hit by a spell.” She had never personally heard of a spell that wiped someone’s memory, but it wasn’t like they all got blackout drunk in there.
The sailor made a face. “Why would a siren be sending a meal away? You sound like my old quartermaster- that fool always said it was a dragon.”
“What other spellcasting monster do you know that likes sitting in soggy caves!?” Lucia shot back, throwing up her arms. She pointed a finger accusingly when he was about to give an answer. “Don’t say naga, those are even less likely to let someone go. At least a siren can be talked to.”
When she looked to Ilya for her input, Lucia found the girl still staring at the cave in the distance, the same as she had left her. What wasn’t the same was her expression, an uncharacteristic glare marring her usually blank face.
“Hey, you good?” Lucia offered, nudging the girl with her elbow.
“Annabelle says I am.” Ilya instantly replied, whatever emotion she was feeling dissipating as she turned away from the curiosity.
“Wha- That’s not...” Once again Lucia found herself stunned by the girl’s twisting and all too literal mind. “What?” She had to replay their exchange in her head before it made sense.
Scoffing in irritation, the adventurer pressed a palm against the girls face and lightly pushed it away. “Never mind- just shut up. Go back to carving.”
There was still a long way to go.
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By the time the duo finally entered the town of Bearwood, the sun was beginning to set, the golden light of the waning day slowly sinking beneath the distant treeline. Townsfolk were still rushing about, gathering last minute ingredients for dinner, heading home from work, or preparing to spend time with friends. The streets were busy, yes, but it was a far cry from Flavenport’s claustrophobic sea of bodies.
A pair of women standing outside a closing shop ceased their conversation when they noticed the strangers approaching, whispering between one another just quiet enough to be drowned out by the rest of the shoppers. Lucia was more than used to the scrutiny, and was about to instinctually snap at them before she realized they weren’t even looking at her, they were looking at her charge. Glancing around the street as they walked, Lucia found a few more pairs of eyes fixated on the thin girl beside her- a few more faces being made.
Ilya was an incredibly strange person to be sure, and there were many things about her that warranted stares, but for the moment she was displaying none of them. To an untainted observer she should have looked completely normal.
“Do people usually stare and whisper about you like this?” Lucia asked as soon as the street was comfortably behind them.
Ilya shook her head, eyes dropping to her feet as they slowed to a stop. “They’ve never even looked at me before.” The honest admission had the exact tone of voice as the one back at the Flavenport guild: a familiar world weariness that made Lucia’s old wounds ache.
The adventurer stood beside her charge, shooting a scowl backward. “Don’t let it bother you too much. They’re lucky enough to have uninteresting lives, and that turns them into annoying gossips.”
“...Let’s just go find dinner.” She sighed, scratching her brow with a thumb. “‘You know anywhere? I doubt you can sneak into the guild a second time.” Especially since it seemed the girl was now an object of interest.
“There’s one place I wanted to try…”
Lucia raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She found herself surprised even though she really shouldn’t have been. Despite the fact that Ilya could never afford it herself, she obviously would know where the rest of the town went to eat. “…After you then.”
The little street rat led Lucia through her streets, down roads and around corners, catching a few more stares from those they passed by. Fitted stone paths of the east side eventually gave way to the rough cobblestones of the west, grungy old buildings casting deep shadows against the sunset. One more left turn and they stopped in front of a open door with a sign hanging just overhead. “Oh, it’s this place.” Lucia remarked- she remembered overhearing the name a few times at the local guild.
Ilya nodded before glancing to the side at a nondescript spot on the ground. “The owner is the one who told me to go to that city, he said adventurers knew lots of stuff.”
“Then I have him to blame for reuniting us.” Lucia deadpanned in reply.
“I never got to eat anything before, but he gave me really nice water.” Ilya commented as they passed through the entry hall, spinning around and walking backwards to do so.
Finding an empty table not too far from the door, the pair sat down, removing their rucksacks and finally relaxing.
The tavern was cozy- homely- a lot of wood and warm lighting. There was a bard performing a soothing tune in the corner, casting some kind of magic effect over the whole establishment.
A tall elf behind the bar was hard at work filling mugs with alcohol and handing them off to his server. He was much paler in general palette than any elf Lucia had ever seen: frosty blue eyes, pale blonde hair, snowy white skin- if she weren’t so jaded, she would find him hot.
The elf eventually noticed the two new customers, quickly filling up one mug before looking up again and realizing who exactly had paid his tavern a visit.
“Heeyy… you’re back.” The barkeep’s words were stretched as he approached the table to greet the street rat. “…Why are you back?” He placed the drink down in front of Lucia without looking.
“I live here.” Ilya stated, tilting her head.
“No, I mean-“ The elf squeezed his eyes closed before opening them. “Weren’t you going on a ‘great quest for knowledge’ or something?” He held up his hands for emphasis.
“I learned stuff, now I’m done. Lucia wanted food, so I brought her here.” Reaching down to her hip, Ilya raised her coin pouch, letting it drop to the table with a thump and jingle of coins. “I even brought money this time.” She sounded very proud about that fact.
“…Welcome back then.” The elf sighed. “I’d be happy to serve you.”
Lucia had seen enough fake smiles in her life to recognize one on the spot, but when his lips curled upward at the little street rat, she was caught off guard. It seemed different than the usual service worker’s chipper mask: it was a little bit more... personal.
Lucia didn’t know what this guy’s deal was, but she hoped any secret disdain he held for Ilya wouldn’t spill over onto her as well. She didn’t enjoy spit in her food.
“What’s with the new clothes?” He asked, gesturing at Ilya’s dark tunic.
Ilya was happy to tell him, showing off the garment. “I met a priest lady named Annabelle; she gave them to me. She’s really nice.”
His head leaned forward and down in disbelief. “Annabelle. As in Saint Annabelle?”
Lucia worked on her drink as Ilya began telling the barkeep- apparently named Issnur -all about her new guardian and the things they had done. They were things the adventurer had been mostly absent for, so most of it was news to her.
About halfway through the mug and halfway through the story of day one, a buzz took hold over Lucia's body. She looked down into the drink with squinted eyes, it must have been some kind of orc mead, those fuckers had strong livers.
“And then we went on an actual quest as real adventurers! Lucia was there too, she fought a really strong zombie all by herself for a long time- she was so cool!” In her slightly inebriated state, the rare words of praise hit Lucia even harder, bringing out a bashfulness she hadn’t felt since she was a kid.
“I can do a lot better than that…” She grumbled vaguely, turning her head away from them both. “…stupid saint…”
By the end of Ilya’s tale, Issnur’s expression was that of mild confusion, either doubt that such things had taken place at all or just doubt that the little street rat had been a part of it. “That… sounds like a lot of good you’ve done.”
He opened his mouth to say more, but a loud growl interrupted him. Ilya looked down at her stomach blankly as if to judge it for breaking the flow of their conversation.
“Barkeep!” Lucia’s slammed her mug down onto the table to break Issnur out of his surprised silence. “We’re getting hungry, what d’you have for us?”
Like flipping a switch, the snow elf shook away his worries to focus on his job. “Oven roasted highland game, caught and killed just today.” Out of his apron came a card, covered front and back with the establishment’s menu. “We also have soups and salads if meat isn’t your thing today.”
Even though she couldn’t read it, Ilya looked over the card with interest, focusing on the drawn images of various roasts. After viewing both sides she retreated into her own head, the turning cogs visible on her face as her eyes burned a hole into the table.
Finally, she decided on her order.
“…Do you have any deer?”
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The moon was out when they left the tavern, the pale eye of divinity gazing down on the quiet streets below. They had eaten well, Ilya devouring her venison like a ravenous hound and Lucia enjoying her pork at a more even pace. With nothing left on the agenda except finding a place to sleep the two decided to take a walk around town to digest.
“People eat like that every day...” Ilya let her thoughts free as she eyed her gaunt reflection in the windows they passed. “There’s so much I’ve missed out on.”
Lucia, pacified by multiple mugs of mead, patted the girl on the back. “We have a week or more to kill, so we can go wherever you want. More bars, a cafe, dress store- I don’t care, I’m getting paid for this.”
Their walk took them into and out of the eastern districts, the loop taking them past a large and bougie manor surrounded by a high metal fence.
“Big fucking house…” Lucia whistled, making the two guards at the gate flinch and grip their spears tighter. “That the lord’s place?” She asked the girl walking ahead of her.
“Mm.” Ilya hummed in the affirmative, noticeably picking up the pace to leave the gate and its watchers behind.
“He tried to get me killed once.” She added offhandedly, once the guards could no longer hear her.
“No shit?” Lucia brows raised with surprise. Ilya was a criminal sure, but she was a petty thief- one among many, not special enough to warrant special treatment from the town’s highest authority. “What did you do? What happened?”
“...I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” Lucia accepted- they were similar in that regard.
The two continued away from the manor, crossing an empty lumberyard to the worn dirt road that led out of the town proper, past farmer’s fields and into the woods. Occasionally along the route, sweet smelling fixtures were placed atop wooden poles, attracting swarms of fireflies that lit the path below.
It was at the end of this path that the duo’s wandering ended, slowing to a stop a hundred or so feet from the forest’s edge, with only the glow of the moon to guide them back.
“Hey Lucia?” Ilya suddenly spoke up, a few paces ahead of her and faced towards the line of trees. “You and me… we’re friends right? I’m your only friend?”
It had been a long, long time since Lucia last thought about calling someone a friend; it had been even longer since she actually did so. Somewhere along the way she had subconsciously accepted that friends weren’t something she was ever going to have.
Yet here- now, staring at this dumb fucking kid who thought the two of them were already at that stage, Lucia considered it. Did she want Ilya to be her friend? Was Ilya someone who could be her friend?
The street rat was quiet and curious- a good listener. She was someone who wanted to hear what Lucia had to say and someone who respected the life experience years of adventuring brought. It felt… kind of good to be looked up to like that.
She was a quick learner too, Lucia didn’t have to repeat herself endlessly before the girl would understand. With just a bit of guidance, Ilya could take care of herself; she didn’t need a babysitter, as much as Lucia compared their relationship to that.
Most importantly, Ilya was a blank slate. She was a know nothing kid who hadn’t had all of the false civility or lopsided morals of mass society drilled into her. Even if someone like Annabelle eventually tried, she wouldn’t internalize them the same way; they would forever remain ‘stuff everybody else thinks.’
Ilya just didn’t have the ability, nor the want, to judge her like the rest of them did.
If that was the case…
“I guess… maybe you can be.” Lucia muttered hesitantly, scratching her elbow and looking away at nothing. “It’s not like there’s anyone else remotely close.”
“…That’s good.” Ilya said breathily, slowly turning around to reveal a smile so wide that it almost split her cheeks. “I’m really glad.”
Lucia still remembered her first time seeing Ilya’s eyes. She remembered her first thoughts upon looking into those strange grey irises, searching for signs of a prankster’s amusement or an actor’s cunning, only to find… nothing. It was like they were fake- the eyes of a doll, made of glass or crystal instead of flesh and cartilage.
The eyes that bored into her now were very much real, filled with more life and manic joy than Ilya had ever shown before. The light of the moon caught her at just the right angle to shadow her face yet illuminate her irises, making it seem like they were glowing.
A gentle breeze drifted down from the mountains, filling the long silence between them with the sound of creaking branches and rustling leaves.
“Let’s be friends forever.”
In the next second, Lucia found herself staring into the palm of a giant hand, time slowing as it burst forth from the sea of trees to steal her away. She tried to scream, but her cries were cut off as the wooden fist engulfed her entire body and dragged her into the forest.
Darkness.
Disorientation.
Vertigo.
Bark pressing down against her.
Thorns cutting into her.
…
Weightlessness.
Suddenly freed from her prison with a downward throw, Lucia was assaulted by the taste of filth in her mouth and a foul stench in her nose not dissimilar from the sewers of Flavenport. She scrambled to her hands and knees as to not drown in defilement, coughing and sputtering the whole time. Where-
“Welcome, lost soul, to my menagerie of discarded and despairing things.”
The adventurer’s blood ran cold, her muscles freezing as she stared into the dark shallow water beneath her. A tiny voice deep inside Lucia’s soul begged her to not look, it begged her to run and hide, but her head was already moving.
Creaking her neck slowly upward towards the malicious voice, she was met with the face of absolute evil: a colossal monster of black scales and green eyes grinning down at her with glee.
“I think you will fit in quite nicely.”