Book 2: Chapter 5 - The Brawl

  The war started at the behest of the elves when they were still one people. The First Children spoke of the great devourer, the herald of the end that would consume all things and leave this world a shriveled, cold husk of rock. They predicted that Mana, the god-gift which flowed through all things, the giver of life and the hope of the future, would be ended by this grave new threat.

  The diviners and the truth seers of the elves called for war against a small country far to the west, across the Untouched Seas, who were ruled by a Mage-King they divined would bring about the end times.

  The High King of the elves, acknowledging the words of the prophecy, sent his envoys to the realms of man and throughout the civilized lands. Although humans were short-lived in comparison to the elder race, they were as numerous as the trees in the forest, and were almost as ferocious as the barbaric orcs of the Long Hills. The League and the Old Empire ceased their endemic wars, united with the promise of gifts of powerful elven artifacts and mithril bullion. The Under-Kingdoms were slower to answer the call, but dwarven greed eventually won over ancient enmity, and they flocked to the banner under elvenkind. The dragons of the mountains and the sky, understanding the threat the Mage-King possessed, grudgingly promised aid, though in their pride they would suffer none to command them.

  The fae of the deep woods and the places of the In-Between honored ancient pacts and promises, presenting their best Warriors and Life Mages. They also gave unto the First Children great stores of witchwood lumber, grown from the giant, sentient trees that had roots in both worlds so that the elven craftsmen might make living ships to travel the deeps. The forces under the command of the elven High King were named the Eastern Alliance as an entire continent prepared for war.

  — On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar, circa 103 AC.

  Three levels and twenty-five points of Constitution proved to be an immense boon, although it caused Seraphina a small twinge of irritation to see Constitution outstrip her other attributes. Still, the large amount of added Health and Stamina would undoubtedly be useful. With precious seconds ticking away, she allocated seven attribute points into Luck—vital, she reasoned, for all the random surprises life had a tendency to throw her way—and two points into Intelligence, ensuring she would most likely breeze through her upcoming entrance exams. Plus, it gave her just enough Mana to cast Wail of Judgment and Heal consecutively without causing her to have a fainting spell for using too much Mana.

  For her free skill points, she invested two into Rest—she knew full well that it was one of the requirements for unlocking a different skill. The final point went into Silent Casting, as she could almost feel the skill brushing up against the limits of what it could achieve at its current level.

  Once she was done, she went back to regroup with Frest and together they made their way back. He wisely did not ask her any questions and she did not offer anything in the way of an explanation.

  ***

  She had not exactly planned all the details for the way back, and the hole they had dropped down proved more difficult to scale than she anticipated. Not that she would ever admit to such an oversight. Fortunately, Seraphina thought fast on her feet: with a grunt of effort, she hoisted Frest up high and threw him the rest of the way up. That was enough for him to scramble away, promising to locate a rope.

  Every minute spent waiting in the sludge of the sewers threatened to bring up childhood memories of when her semi-basement apartment had once flooded. That was a different life, and she had forced herself to keep those horrible memories under a lock and key. But here, waiting, in the dark, dirty water they threatened to emerge. Gritting her teeth, she shoved those haunting recollections away, locking them again where they could not rattle her.

  After what felt like a long but indeterminable amount of time, Frest was lowering down a rope, and she climbed out of that foul-smelling place, each pull on the rope feeling like a small triumph.

  They returned to the Thieves’ Guild base, both of them caked from head to toe in filth. Dark sludge clung to Seraphina’s hair and stained her clothes with a nauseating stench. They washed off most of the grime in a sluice, separately of course—the mere idea of cleaning up together was unthinkable. After all, there were bounds of propriety. It was an outing that Seraphina and Frest would never forget for the rest of their lives.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  ***

  Exiting the old warehouse from where they had entered, they were back on the streets of Meridian. By the length of shadows, she reckoned it to be sometime in the late afternoon.

  The quick wash they’d had in the Thieves’ hideout had been only a temporary reprieve. Determined to restore herself to a semblance of dignity, Seraphina decided they would borrow an inn near Meridian’s Adventurers’ Guild—someplace accustomed to catering to those who stumbled in dirtier than usual. The inn’s staff didn’t so much as bat an eye when the pair walked in, dripping and disheveled. Seraphina handed over extra coin for their gear to be cleaned, the inn’s discretion, and to secure two private baths.

  When she finally slipped into the steaming water, exhaustion immediately warred with relief. She could feel the heat seeping into her tired muscles, coaxing out the chill that had set into her bones. It took her a moment to fully relax; her pulse still pounded from the adrenaline of the escape. But soon, she let herself sink deeper, letting the water cover her shoulders.

  Grime seeped out of her golden hair in inky ribbons. She scrubbed vigorously, dislodging chunks of dirt and grime. Over and over, she rinsed her hair and worked fragrant soap into it, chasing away the pungent stench. She used a stiff-bristled brush on her skin until it felt as if she might strip away the top layer, but she needed that thoroughness—she needed to know not a trace of sewer slime remained. Clouds of filth swirled around her, and at times, it felt like she was washing away more than just dirt.

  Though she spent what felt like hours in the bath, her limbs cried out with relief by the time she emerged. Towel wrapped securely around her, she inspected her reflection in the small mirror on the wall, half-expecting some new shadow of trauma to remain. Instead, her skin looked bright and clean, her hair free of knots and grime. A high Constitution was useful after all. She offered her reflection a quiet smirk—she was vaguely ready to face the world once more. Though the mere memory of the sewer’s stench still made her shudder, she felt fortified somehow—healthier and stronger in both body and mind.

  ***

  Seraphina accosted a runner earlier that evening, instructing him to inform her household she would be dining elsewhere and should not be expected at the family table. She had resolved to study the common folk in their natural element—adventurers, travelers, and the rougher sorts who congregated in these more rustic establishments. If she aspired to become a queen someday, it behooved her to understand the lives. At least to some degree. In truth, she was slumming it, but she preferred to think of it as research.

  She arrived at a modest, well-worn tavern, its wooden sign creaking overhead in the faint breeze. The interior was lit by guttering lanterns that cast flickering shadows on the scarred wooden tables. The smell of ale, roasting meat, and pipe smoke hung heavy in the air. It was a far cry from the clean luxury she usually enjoyed.

  Pulling out a chair by the window, Seraphina placed her helm on a wooden chair next to her. Her large sword—a bit battered, but still too fine for such a place—she rested against the wall, wedging it between the chair and the table. The eyes of a few patrons lingered on the ornate scabbard before they returned to their own meals. She adjusted herself, slightly uncomfortable in her armor before removing her gauntlets and placing them on the table. The young girl tried to ignore the curious glances, settling her gaze instead on the scene beyond the glass: dim Zajasite crystal light on the paved streets, a gondola passing by in a canal below, and the general bustle of the evening foot traffic.

  A serving maid approached, balancing a wooden tray on one hip. “What can I get for you, miss?” she asked, wiping her hands on a stained apron.

  Seraphina realized she had no idea what to order. “Your recommendation, please,” she said, a polite smile gracing her features. She hoped that she looked natural, but suspected she was probably far too clean-looking for this rough-and-tumble place.

  The serving maid, seeming a bit surprised at being asked for her opinion, suggested the stew. “Best in the district,” she said by way of explanation. Seraphina nodded and ordered it at once.

  With the main course decided, Seraphina attempted to order a Sariens ‘23, a fine vintage that would complement almost any dish. The serving maid blinked, as if she had heard an incantation in a foreign tongue, then gave Seraphina a tentative shrug. It was clear the name meant nothing in this tavern.

  Realizing she was quite out of her element, Seraphina let out a small sigh and tried again. “Any red wine you have will do,” she said. The serving maid’s face brightened, and with a quick nod, she turned to fetch it.

  A few minutes later, the serving maid returned with an earthenware carafe of wine. Out of habit, Seraphina paused, expecting the maid—or the sommelier—to pour it for her. When no one stepped forward, she let out a small sigh and did it herself

  Seraphina leaned back in her chair, the commotion of the tavern swirling around her—laughter from a group of adventurers at a nearby table, clanging dishes from the kitchen, and the low hum of conversation punctuated by raucous shouts.

  As she waited for the recommended stew, a slow smile found its way to her lips. Despite the somewhat lacking service and the simpler fare, a slow smile found its way to her lips—this was not so bad.