n years after my hiatus from here, just figured I should also post my RH fic here on top of tumblr and AO3. Hope you enjoy!
"What? Where is this?" the shopkeeper inquired incredulously at the young man's question. "This is Alistel, boy. Look around you. Ain't it obvious?"
The said young man turned about and peeked out the shop window. Everything was alien to him; from the metallic structures, to the unbelievable stench of burning coal hanging constantly in the air.
"Sorry. I'm kind of lost," he said matter-of-factly. The shopkeeper was not the first that he crossed in the past few days; almost every other person he had met exclaimed the same thing. It was safe to assume that this was one of the larger capitals of this... Wherever this was.
The elder man shook his head, throwing a half-torn map at the lost youth. "Take it," the merchant huffed, "it's unsaleable anyway." Nodding his thanks, the youth shuffled out of the shop.
This was the boring journey of Dullahan; just a simple man trying to find his way home.
Asking for directions afterwards was much easier, now that he had a name to tag the city with. Luckily for him, it would seem that Alistellans shared the same language as he did; he hadn't had too much of a trouble communicating thus far.
Already from a glance, he could identify a few technological wonders within the city walls- artificial lighting that works, warm indoors despite the frigid weather and high elevation, and last but not least, the existence of tools that can run on its' own, not powered by man.
He paused, slightly hesitant upon reaching his destination- the tavern. He had his doubts as to whether he will be able to get any useful information here, but taverns were always worth a try.
There was another concern he had in mind that unfortunately, rang dead true for him two moments after he first thought about it.
His coins were worthless. Nevermind getting lost, it seemed as if the possibility of getting drunk was also now beyond his capabilities.
The tavernmaster scowled visibly, looking at the mint with incredulity. After all, no tradesmen liked seeing currencies that were not known to them.
Dullahan didn't blame him, but he hadn't been expected to be directed straight to the door at the first signs of not having coins on hand. Across the room, he could see two burly men ducking in- looking ready to sort things out if he caused any trouble. ... Not that he would, of course.
"... It's been a pleasure regardless, sir," the blonde said, pulling as much diplomacy as he could in his tone even as he headed out. The small commotion was attracting attention- and the last thing Dullahan needed was further embarrassment. Guess the tavern's out, he sighed inwardly.
He didn't manage to get out of the premise before something tripped across his feet, landing face-first. "Owww," the thing groaned on the floor, and it was only then Dullahan realised it was a boy in ill-fitting clothes. Instinctively, he kneeled to offer a hand to the poor sap. "Sorry, I didn't see you-"
"MARCO! You bastard-" there was a flurry of movements, and years of experience told Dullahan he was about to get punched in the face. He willed for all for his right cheeks to thicken and soften the impact, but the punch actually didn't come. He hadn't realised he had been squinting, either, until he opened his eyes to meet the potential assailant's.
There was a long pause before both the boy and the lady- the one that threatened violence- realised that they were staring at him. "... In case you didn't hear me, madam, I apologised to your son," Dullahan noted, his dissatisfaction showing.
The weird part was mostly on how the woman actually pulled her punch mid-stride- that meant she was trained. Actually, judging from bits and pieces of their padded armour, it was safe to write them off as mercenaries.
It got weirder after that, when the boy sat up and appraised him, as if he was an item on display. As did the woman. "... Stocke?" the woman breathed, a tone unbecoming of her earlier behaviour... And dressing, for that matter.
"No, I don't have any stocks for sale." Dullahan raised himself to his full height, towering over both of them. The boy didn't seem to suffer any injuries- and he felt no obligation to stay any further.
"No, wait, uh, sorry about that, I was kinda pissed you pushed my friend down, you know? And I'm not his mother," the woman exploded into a chatterbox, as if eager to get him to stay. Dullahan raised an eyebrow. Now that is what he called drastic change in personality. He hadn't realised that the woman already had a tightening grip on his arm.
"Raynie! He's not-" "I know," the lady snapped, shaking her head- and her long, dark ponytail with it. "Look, uh, I actually overheard you saying you needed a drink, so like, you're broke, right? We'll treat yah."
Dullahan just stared at the duo, trying to assess the incredulity of the situation. How many birds in one stone did he get from this? He didn't bother to count. "... Sure?" He was understandably suspicious, but it was a more interesting development than trying any other alternatives at the moment.
And if anything, he could probably get a good quantity (he wouldn't count on quality) of information from lady chatterbox- Raynie, was it?- on where exactly this was.