It had been three years since they'd defeated the Prime Evil. A lot of things had changed since then.
Looking back, Eirena wasn't sure she had made the best impression. Aloof and uncaring, she had sternly guided her comrades toward their ultimate goal, never faltering in her resolve. That was all gone now.
Following the end of their conquest, everyone had parted ways. Tyrael had gone on to become the mortal Aspect of Wisdom. Lyndon had gone back to his guild, reaping in the benefits of a hero. The nephalem continued in their philanthropy, traveling across the continent to rid the world of Diablo's last remnants. And Kormac, the poor soul, went off on his hopeless journey.
She, however, had nothing. Ithereal had told her to find her own path in life, and at first, she was lost. Without her sisters, the Prophet, and her quest, she was nothing. A shell of a person. Relic from the Mage Clan Era. Purposeless. With no worldly attachments or personal connections, she considered drifting into the realm of eternal sleep.
Yet, as she wandered the world, Eirena had found another calling, one that bound her soul to the mortal world.
She had become a mother.
At first, it started with a single child. She had stumbled upon the thing just outside of her in during a visit to Caldeum. Employed at the time as a mercenary, she had gone outside to enjoy the view, only to see something that conjured emotions she thought were long dead. The boy, no older than ten, had been rummaging through the refuse, hoping for scraps to ease the ache of an empty stomach. Finding no food, he pulled out an old and very dirty rag, and began to consume it.
Eirena was devastated when she found that this child was but one of the many who had lost their families to the chaos of Diablo's insurrection. She took him in, and in time, many others like him. With her meager savings, she bought a home, and attended to their needs. The place quickly became known as orphanage. During the day, she sold and enchanted magical items, returning at night to her home, where the older children cared for the younger.
It was a thankless task, and she was running out of room. Lately, it seemed that she was finding more children who had been abandoned, rather than orphaned. Nevertheless, the roads had finally been repaired, having been destroyed during the endless battles, and so business was picking up.
Eirena had been saving up, and in a few months, she would be able to acquire a larger building. Her current situation could barely accommodate the 32 rascals. She considered hiring help, but banished the though immediately. It simply was not affordable. Asheara and her crew often came to visit, and that was more than enough.
Eirena whistled, smiling as she closed her stand. Today's earnings were more than expected, and so she decided to treat herself to a meal at her favorite inn before heading back. The inn itself was not particularly fancy, known neither for its service nor its food. Despite that, Eirena loved their mincemeat pies. The pies had been her first meal upon arriving in Caldeum, and it had made a lasting impression.
She seated herself at a small table in the furthest corner, and awaited her food. It was not unusual for vagrants to visit this place. Many of them would stop and attempt to charm her with their flattery, and words of deceit. This bothered her much so that she eventually opted to sit in the furthest, darkest corner, where they could not easily trouble, much less see her.
As her meal arrived, a large armored figure bustled through the door, creating quite a commotion. It was strange, for she couldn't recall the last time she had seen that type of armor.
Ever since the demise of the Prime Evil, adventurers and mercenaries had become rare, especially in Caldeum, where most of the visitors were merchants. The last time she had seen such armor was three years back. Not even the guards wore something so archaic. The antiquated sets were so bulky and troublesome, and most fighters opted for the newer garments that offered more flexibility without announcing one's location with every step.
Much to Eirena's annoyance, the armored being chose to sit in close proximity to her. She hastily completed her meal, and stood to leave, just as the armored person removed their helmet.
"One ale and three mousemeat pies, please."
Eirena stopped.
That voice, that request, she had heard it somewhere before. There weren't many men she had met during her travels who were gullible enough to believe Lyndon's lies. In fact, she had been there when they Scoundrel had convinced the poor fool that mincemeat was in fact, made of mice, and the that the proper name was actually "mousemeat." The stranger sat facing away from her, but she was almost positive of their identity. Walking briskly to the table, Eirena turned and stood before the figure. She knew it.
"Hello Kormac."
She seated herself adjacent to her acquaintance. The corners of her eyes turned up, as she watched him choke on his ale.
"How have you been?"