Inn
Mithrigil Galtirglin
After a while, you can sense the power on a group of them. You know what fresh hunters look like, you know what proper hunters look like, but the seasoned kind you can feel, crawling up your neck. They're more fearsome than the things they kill for coin, and considering that those are the things that you fear even when you're miles away and have never seen, well, you don't need to hear the rest.
There's a group of them now, laughing, poring over a map and under a few pints. The leader—or the one who looks like the leader—drinks shots, pretty expensive ones, and you wish that the table was yours. He's arguing with their muscle, a Hume in a red vest a size too small. You can't get close enough to hear what about, but it's serious enough.
There are a couple of kids at the table, but they've got the power too. Your boots are clammy. They're pale-haired, those kids, Dalmascan probably, and the boy's watching you. He smiles. It's far too easy.
-
They're back a few weeks later, same map, and this time they're your table. The map reeks, not just of the wax they're using to preserve it, but of something just like they are. You try not to wince, taking their order. The kids have mead, the Viera and the lady wine—a bottle, and a good one—the muscle stout and their leader, well, you were right about the expensive shots. He's Archadian, does most of the talking for the table, even covers their food. That's more because everyone else is distracted, though, not because he's actually in charge.
You're fairly certain that the Viera is the most dangerous person at the table, but that might just be your prejudices at work, since the lady's also just got that feel on her. The greatsword against the wall is hers, and it looks like a thing from a tapestry. You want to see it unpeacebound, unsheathed, just to prove that it can hold an edge.
And this time, she's the one arguing with the leader, and from the way he speaks to her, and the way the muscle takes the bottle from you and pours for her, you think maybe the Archadian's not really in charge. But he's still the one with the map, and the only one that can read the language on it, or so he says. Gods above, that map is a frightening thing.
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It's got red marks all over the wax when they're back, a fortnight more exactly. They stink of crystals and the kids are jittery, especially the boy. He's got a loose tongue, and it's definitely vexing the Archadian (you're really not sure who the leader is now).
So you ask where they've been.
If it's making the Viera's ears twitch, it's probably best they didn't tell you.
-
They're still here the next night. The girl hangs around when you're cleaning glasses and changing the specials on the board. Her name's Penelo, you were right about her being Dalmascan, and she dances. You say you'll talk to your boss about getting her some time to do that tonight, maybe draw a few people in from the outside, and she looks like she really wants to but says she shouldn't. You don't contest it, and you don't ask why either.
She does say that they'll be here for a few days this time. You make it clear that you know they're on a hunt, so she does tell you a bit more. That the dungeon's huge—you guessed that from the map—and she never wants to spend two weeks in there again. In the dark.
You ask what her weapon is. She says she switches off between crossbow and katana. Your danger-sense has apparently gotten rusty.
-
She passes out with her head on the muscle's shoulder after one and a half glasses of mead. Maybe that's why she didn't want to dance. He's still working through the map with the Archadian, though, so it's left to the boy to take her upstairs. His name turns out to be Vaan—he tells you this only when he's gotten to the door of the room all the girls are sharing, and it's an afterthought, a by-the-way, and he asks yours immediately after. He thinks he remembers you from somewhere not here. But you've never not been here.
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Day three, and the Viera doesn't look any less dangerous.
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It's not arguing, what the muscle and the Archadian are doing. The only thing they're not in agreement about is whether they should actually be going about this so completely. The Archadian's got curlicues all through the place, has drawn on sections that weren't part of the original design, cites treasure and the value of learning the layout, for the future. You can only assume that the muscle would rather it be over as quickly as possible, claim the Mark and return to whatever it was they were doing, which probably involves other hunts and something that the lady is very invested in. But they are resolved to kill the thing, to a man.
They've gotten very good about not dropping their names. You can tell they're avoiding doing it around you, even around each other. Even when she gets frustrated and is kind of clawing through the wax, glaring at the Archadian and making it clear that she just wants this to be done, the lady catches the beginning of his name on her teeth and holds it there. You're pretty sure you know who he is now.
You decide not to turn him in, though, just in case he's one of the fakes. Besides, he looks too young.
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He's also a really good tipper.
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Ten days. It's less than two weeks, but the girl, Penelo, looks even worse than she did the last time they all came in. One night, she says. And she's definitely dancing, if you can accommodate her. You do.
You don't ask why, Vaan tells you anyway, something about black orbs, and now the way is lit. He dances with her for a bit, mostly because she drags him. This gets everyone laughing, the really uneasy kind of laughing that's jewelry and a new haircut for something darker.
If it's got them up in arms, you really don't want to know.
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The worst part of working in a place like this is when they don't come back. You never know if it's because they got what they wanted, or because the Mark did. Not every Mark makes it through this place, after all, especially not the kind that this type goes after, so you can't even check that without becoming a hunter yourself.