Author's Notes: Character Death. You've been warned.
Chapter 2
Barter And Bills, Coin And Legal Tender
Cost Of Living
Old Damuro was a white, sometimes treacherous ruin beneath its mantle of snow, but it was one that yielded increased rewards from the sly goblins that patrolled it in well-organized little units he'd dubbed squads and platoons without quite knowing where the terms came from. They were vicious, used crossbows and swords in addition to their daggers, and had a ready grasp of tactics. Their armor remained relatively primitive, usually a chest and shoulder-plates when they bothered to wear it at all, but it was more than their kin outside of the city had employed in combat.
Ira's party had quickly learned that it was best to time the patrols, sneak in between them, cover their tracks, and then begin their hunting within the city itself – otherwise they risked whatever patrol they'd disposed of being missed and a punitive force being sent in to follow.
They'd been lucky enough to manage to ambush that first punitive force, and lucky that it numbered only a platoon of two squads, a total of eight goblins, but without the element of surprise and overwhelming magical force it was entirely possible most or all of them would have been killed.
A charmed goblin was now a foundation of their strategy – locating and numbering other squads, covering the party's tracks when they moved from position to position, and keeping a lookout for roving squads on patrol as they snuck in and out, week after week.
Even so, it was dangerous. Ira was giving serious thought to having their adventuring party join the others currently plumbing the depths of the Cyrene Mines. With the elimination of Death Spots it was no longer quite as likely to be lethal, but the enclosed spaces of a network of mining tunnels presented their own challenges.
Increased wealth presented a very compelling trade-off for the enhanced danger they now faced however, and Ira certainly wasn't about to recommend that they go back to hunting the weaker, poorer goblins in the forest.
He wore an ankle-length dark green coat now, the high collar and deep, wide hood lined with gray rabbit fur and reinforced with thick leather paneling in the chest, shoulders and the abdomen down to the thighs, a thick green woolen scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, a felt hat of dark gray trimmed with more gray rabbit fur around the brim on his head that came down over his ears, woolen gloves on his hands.
Panashri had similarly opted for increased comfort in her new garb, her dark brown coat knee-length, fur-lined boots meeting it, soft black leggings under her long blue skirt. They'd bought their hats from the same stall, all but identical but for the sandy hue of Panashri's hat and the fur trim in brown. Her staff was new as well, the shaft straight, the head curled into a tight, pale whorl around a pale yellow globe, grasped in hands that were girded with thick dark blue mittens.
Soong's tunic was layered, blue over white over blue, with a large, deep hood lined in white rabbit fur. Like Panashri she'd elected to go with thick mittens, though hers were white, her thick blue trousers tucked into fur-lined ankle-boots. She still had her original bronze-headed staff, and truthfully it usually saw little actual use. Her pale pink headband had thick flaps that came down over her ears.
Yedani still had her thigh-length leather coat, claiming it was more than warm enough, though she supplemented it with a big, pale, faintly beige scarf that she wrapped around her head and neck. She'd become adept at wielding two knives at once. Her pants were softer leather, tops of her calf-high boots trimmed in black fur.
Kanoha had replaced his leather coat with one that was padded and studded with steel rivets, high-collared and long enough to come down over his thighs. The skin-tight hose had been replaced with baggy trousers tucked into knee-high boots, his gloves of soft brown leather. He'd replaced his bow with a longer, sturdier one that gave greater range, the simple broad-headed spear that Ira had given him replaced with one that had an actual blade, slightly curved and long enough to be a short-sword by itself. Like Soong he'd opted to get a headband with ear flaps, only in dark brown.
Mikhev's armor was still used, but offered a much greater degree of protection, the breastplate now covering his entire torso, a matching backplate buckling at the shoulders and sides to protect him from behind, layered plates on his shoulders and at his elbows allowing mobility while thick plates guarded his biceps and forearms. His legs were similarly girded. He still wore his mail shirt underneath it however. He'd replaced his sword with a slightly longer one, and the axe with a second sword that was nevertheless thick enough to serve almost as well, nearly triangular in shape with one edge sharp. His helmet was the same, but he'd painted red horns on the top.
He also now had a matching codpiece over his crotch.
Much like the rest of them, Felicia had used her share of the coin to replace her own apparel, and hadn't stopped there. She'd bought herself a leather jacket and at the moment had on a red sweater, the loose-fitting black trousers over her big hips trimmed at the ankles with fur. Ira wasn't sure what possessed the woman to get shoes with heels, but these were her second pair despite how uncomfortable they had to be. She'd been tall to start with, and with them she was as tall as Kanoha, though not as graceful, that awkward, rolling walk of hers unchanged. She had two pairs of nun-chucks now, though she only used one at a time, one of iron with a connecting iron chain, and one of wood banded with bronze with a chain of the same.
If she spent much on skills, Ira had yet to witness it. The only one he'd ever seen her actually use was Smash, though he supposed that was something. He wasn't inclined to say she actually pulled her weight compared to the rest of them, but at least she wasn't dead weight anymore.
They were on their way back from their latest expedition, the sun getting low in the west.
"Do we want to wait for the next patrol to pass, or get a little extra for the road?" Ira asked quietly in the shelter of a ruin with half its roof long ago fallen in, snow slipping into the rest in little flurries and piling in the corners and doorways.
"I'm still fresh." Mikhev shrugged. "Relatively, anyway."
"It reduces the risk since we'll know another won't be along for a while. They never expect us to take them from within the city," Kanoha added.
Ira looked to the girls.
Yedani nodded. "It will put us that much closer to our full Volunteer Soldier tags."
Panashri nodded as well.
"I just wanna go home, y'all. I'm haungry." Felicia wore a grimace.
"I agree. We can use the extra coin and there is little danger to us if we are quick and take them by surprise." Soong didn't even glance at Felicia.
"We take the next patrol then." Ira turned to his latest charmed goblin. "Gomer."
He didn't know why he'd taken to calling them that – something from his past that he couldn't quite recall the reasoning behind, but it seemed to fit.
"Go scout for the next patrol. Keep an eye out for anything else we should know about too."
The goblin nodded and scampered out into the broken street.
Ira expected him to be gone ten, maybe fifteen minutes. He was back in perhaps three, jabbering something.
Ira scooped up snow and scattered it on the floor. "Show me."
The goblin scratched its head, and then squatted and with one clawed green finger began to draw – figures with long limbs in front of figures with shorter limbs and little triangular caps.
"Other adventurers – on the run," Kanoha said, looking over Gomer's shoulder.
"We don't know when the next patrol is coming." Ira straightened.
"We're going to save them, aren't we?" Panashri asked.
"We don't know how much trouble they're in," Mikhev interjected.
"I don't want to leave them to their fate, but it's a risk." Kanoha shook his head.
"We should go," Yedani looked at the rest of them. "We can help them. We're strong, and we are not yet spent. Gomer didn't take long to return. We have little time. They are surely close."
"Y'all . . ." Felicia wavered, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I have magic left, and so do you and Panashri," Soong said, coming forward and looking Ira in the eye. "We don't know when the next patrol will come, and if these others run into them . . ."
Ira looked to Mikhev and Kanoha. They nodded, albeit slowly.
"Take us there," Ira said to Gomer.
Gomer took them to an intersection just as an armored man limped into view, a figure in leathers on his back. There was a woman with them, holding up a shield almost as big as she was with both hands. Crossbow bolts clanked off of its face. The armored man grunted as one got by the shield and lodged in the mail covering his shoulder.
His hair was dark red, like old blood, stubble on his face, blue eyes fixed forward. Ira couldn't explain the way the sight of that face with its broad jaw, proud nose, and prominent features suddenly made a dozen different feelings rise up inside of him.
He was around the corner a heartbeat later and snake-headed spears of flame hissed through the air, two of them slamming into a goblin's chest, a second goblin getting one in the face and the belly. A third goblin raised its shield in time to avoid sharing a similar fate, fire splashing over the shield's face.
Yedani yanked him out of the way of a crossbow quarrel, and Kanoha had an arrow nocked, sighting down its length. The remaining goblin with a crossbow turned, probably to find cover, and staggered as Kanoha's arrow slammed through its ribs, another plunging in a moment later beneath the first, and the goblin crumpled.
There were three more goblins, armed with swords and shields. Two of them charged, one hanging back.
Mikhev went to meet them. Panashri was casting a spell – a sphere of water materialized in front of her and she smashed it with her staff, droplets of varying sizes becoming long spindles of glittering ice that flew through the air. Both goblins in the fore brought their shields around, protecting their heads and torsos, but jagged ice tore open long wounds on their bare legs.
Mikhev's chopping sword slammed a shield aside and his other sword went deep into the goblin's belly, once, twice, and then it was falling away and he brought the other blade down on its head to finish the job.
Gomer tugged at Ira's coat, interrupting him as he gathered himself for a new spell, jabbering something, pointing towards the broken wall only a couple of streets away and stomping his foot.
The patrol.
A chill ran through Ira. "The patrol!" he shouted. "Finish these quickly! Kanoha, with me!" He turned, moving quickly past the adventurers they'd rescued, the red-headed man kneeling on the ground over his burden, the woman watching him with narrowed eyes.
They might have made a mistake. They might have made a terrible mistake.
But that face lingered in his thoughts, tight with pain, blue eyes fixed forward.
Gomer scampering at his side, Ira made his way to the street corner, leaning around it in time to see the goblins finish conferring – three heading back, probably to take the cross street, one with a crossbow and the other two with swords and shields. That left two more with swords and shields and three more with crossbows heading right towards him.
"Kanoha," he murmured. "Go warn them about the three coming on the flank."
He didn't wait to see if Kanoha complied, just gathered himself. There was a lot to use – anxiety, fear, anger, but that strange intensity he felt towards the red-head – that was the strongest of all.
"Open, gates of the sky," he said to the cold air. "Loose the incandescent messengers that bear the words of heaven, that balance the firmament and the earth. Let them descend in glowing raiment that blinds the eye as they sing to the world below. Open, and admit them to this realm beneath the clouds."
It was a long incantation, and he could feel the powerful drain, but he'd only have one chance to surprise the goblin patrol, and he had to make it count.
Thunder echoed down out of the clear sky, rumbling hard enough to make the stone of the building behind him vibrate at his back.
He looked away, but he could see the blaze of light out of the corner of his eye as the earth shook. The effort he'd expended literally left him panting and he had to catch himself on his knees. He could still hear weapons ringing up the street.
He couldn't spare any time to see what was going on. He braced himself on the wall and leaned around the corner. The goblins were getting to their feet.
Well, some of them were. Two of the goblins that had held crossbows were blackened and unmoving, as was one of the goblins that had held a sword and shield. A fourth goblin was crumpled on his side, shaking, shield and sword lying nearby.
That left the two remaining that had held crossbows. Blood was trickling from their ears, but they were up and moving.
"Gomer," Ira said, bending over again. "Go kill them."
Gomer looked up at him, and then hefted his crude sword and rounded the corner at a run.
"You aren't going to do that again, are you?"
The voice was unfamiliar. Ira glanced up to see the female adventurer from the other party looking at him. Her skin was a little lighter in hue than Felicia's, eyes a paler brown, hair pulled back in a tight braid rolled into a bun at the back of her head.
He shook his head. "Can't. That was all I had left."
She nodded, and a little to his surprise, drew her sword and ran around the corner as well.
"Ira, you alright?" Mikhev was suddenly there, his hands on Ira's shoulders, looking him in the eye.
"Did you get the three coming from the flank?" Ira asked as Kanoha jogged past, bow at the ready, Yedani right behind him.
"We did," Mikhev confirmed. "Are you hurt anywhere? Can you move?"
Ira nodded. "I'm fine. It just took a lot out of me."
Mikhev leaned around the corner, head tilting slightly to one side, eyes widening just a bit. "Alright – we should get moving. We don't know how long until more come to investigate."
"Thank you for saving us." The redhead's voice was deep, and slightly hoarse. Soong had healed his wounds so he was able to walk. He was taller than any of them. Ira only came up to the middle of his chest.
They made it away from Damuro without further incident, and night had fallen as they walked, the moon rising in the east and gleaming on the frost-covered boughs of the forest.
"On behalf of our party, you're welcome," Ira replied. "The girls insisted on it. I'm actually glad they did." It wasn't entirely true. Felicia had sort of babbled. Ira didn't count her in much of the way of anything else anyway though, so gender seemed equally irrelevant.
That got a blink. "I'm Dietricht, by the way. The lady with us is Tamiya, our Dark Knight. The Druid is Miguel."
Miguel was slim – lightly muscled, with faintly coppery skin, short dark hair, and eyes that held just a hint of green in the midst of amber.
"We . . . lost our other members today," Dietricht continued. "Our Thief and our Mage."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Ira said quietly. It was a little strange, to really feel that way about someone he'd just met – not just that it was unfortunate, but that it had happened to Dietricht in particular.
"We've been fortunate so far," Mikhev said. "We're lucky Ira's such a good strategist. What happened to you?"
"The goblins got the drop on us." Dietricht swallowed. "We were walking across a courtyard, and suddenly they were there on the walls with those damn crossbows, shooting down at us. Ayami – she . . . never had a chance, and then we were running, trying to get out, and Lou . . . they got him in the back with a crossbow bolt, and then one of the goblins . . ." He trailed off.
"That's awful," Panashri said quietly.
"That really is awful," Felicia said, wiping her eyes. "I mean mah gawd, just dead, right in front o' you. And you be wonderin' if you next, and you be so scared, and all tremblin' and prayin' you aint-"
"Yes," Ira said firmly, cutting her off.
"So – that goblin," Dietricht asked after a moment, glancing at Gomer trailing along behind them. "Is he . . . a friend?"
"No." Ira shook his head. "Sorcerers have access to charm magic, so when we go to Damuro, I charm one to act as our scout."
Dietricht blinked, and nodded after a moment. "Oh, I just thought since you gave him a name . . ." He trailed off. "So you release him, or . . ."
"Not exactly." Ira hadn't really wanted Dietricht to see it. It was unreasonably awkward, but the whole business of Gomer . . . Gomer's predecessors also named Gomer . . . it was a little difficult to explain the truth of the matter. "We can't take the chance that he'd communicate with others, tell them about us. He's . . . not the first Gomer. He won't be the last, either." Ira took a deep breath. "If he weren't charmed, then he'd be just as quick to try and kill us as any other goblin. When we're using him as a scout it's . . . just delaying the end result."
"I see." Dietricht glanced back at Gomer again. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.
In all honesty it had been a little difficult even before Dietricht. It was the same argument he made to himself each time he told a Gomer to lie down on the ground. At the end of the day, he was willing to trade the lives of their enemies for his life and the lives of his companions.
At the end of each day, he did exactly that.
"Let me do it for you," Tamiya said suddenly. "I need a body part from a kill I've made for a Vice anyway."
Both Ira and Dietricht looked back at her. Ira nodded.
They parted from Dietricht and his party once they were all safely back within Ortana. As much as they made on a daily basis now, a hot bath at the bathhouse was no longer an outlandish expense, and Ira genuinely looked forward to the relaxed scrub in the warm, steamy air, and then a long soak in the baths.
If they'd planned to stay in Ortana over the long term, it might have made sense to actually purchase a living space, but as Ira understood it, there was more coin to be found in other municipalities outside of Ortana once they had their full Volunteer Soldier tags and more experience under their belt. Nevertheless, he wanted to take a look at renting a more comfortable living space as far as a price comparison for what they were spending now and what amenities were available.
He really and truly wanted a place with either actual glazed windows, or at least good shutters inset in the frame. It would be far better than trying to keep in what little heat they had with haphazardly mounted hides as they did now with the trainee quarters they'd been supplied for a slight fee. Some kind of heating system aside from just an oven and a hearth in the kitchen would be a bonus, and if he could find a place that had hot baths in-house, that would definitely maximize its appeal.
They made a stop off at Shelly's Tavern for dinner, and then headed for the Southern Bath House. Ira had made a concerted effort ever since they'd begun using the place to avoid ogling his fellow male party members out of a sense of courtesy. It was easy with Kanoha – he was content to sit by himself and just soak.
It was more difficult with Mikhev on nights when he was in a talkative mood.
No sooner had Ira settled into the water than Mikhev got up, crossing Ira's line of vision and making it impossible to avoid getting an eyeful of his large endowment without making it very apparent that he was trying to do so.
He sat next to Ira and lightly elbowed him in the ribs. "So, that Miguel guy – he struck me as maybe inclined towards your side of the line." His tone was teasing.
Ira just shook his head. "Not a chance."
"Oh come on – you haven't even given him a chance." Mikhev leaned back next to him.
"He's not my type. I wouldn't be surprised if he got friendly with Yedani though." Ira shrugged.
"Shame about his party. Tamiya seems like she's got a good head on her shoulders. That Dietricht guy, though . . ."
"I'd say he's perfectly-" Ira turned, meeting Mikhev's smug grin, and realized he'd just been caught in a trap.
"Well, I'm not surprised you like the muscley ones – you haven't kicked me out of bed after all." Mikhev's grin widened.
Ira looked away, shaking his head. "He's just lost two of his party members. I very much doubt he's in any kind of emotional shape for . . ." Ira trailed off, shaking his head.
"For?" Mikhev prodded, obviously intent on pushing the issue.
Ira gave him a flat look, refusing to say anything further. He was blushing enough as it was.
Mikhev rolled his eyes. "Fine, be stoic then. You and Kanoha both. It's not really fair to the rest though."
There was, it seemed, no end to Mikhev's surprises. "What do you mean, the rest?" Ira asked a little more intently than he'd meant to.
Mikhev shrugged, expression suddenly overly casual. "Well, tonight I plan on going for another walk with Panashri, probably cuddling a little since it'll be so cold and we'll only have each other for warmth, at least until we get back to the kitchen and talk a little over hot cocoa."
Ira sighed. "I don't know why you wanted to share this with me."
"Don't tell me you're jealous." Suddenly Mikhev had an arm around Irving's shoulders. "Don't get me wrong – you're great for warming up and I like sleeping next to you, but you know I'm not into you that way."
Ira glowered at him. "I didn't ask you to start climbing into bed with me in the first place."
"But, like I said, you haven't kicked me out, either." Mikhev's tone remained smug and he gave Ira a brief squeeze. "A big guy like that Dietricht though – I wouldn't want to have to fight him for that spot."
It was strange, how he could keep his head in a fight, make decisions, do what needed doing. Yet here, naked in a bath and miles away from any danger, Ira felt way out of his depth in such an intimate circumstance just talking to Mikhev about romance. He didn't know what to say, how to disengage or turn the tide back on Mikhev to put him on the defensive instead.
"If Soong would just . . . give me a sign," Kanoha said suddenly. "If I could only get her to smile at me, touch me just once on the hand, or even on the shoulder, then I would pursue her. Flowers, gifts – I want to do all of it.
"Ah – that's the curse of men my friend." Mikhev finally left off invading Ira's personal space, standing up with his arms outstretched, somehow utterly confident even utterly exposed, grinning broadly even though he was completely on display in a way that made Ira look away self-consciously. "The women want us to chase them – but our job is figuring out which one wants the chase, and how she wants to be chased. It's not fair, but that's our world! Sure, we might get rejected, but it's exciting finding out!"
"Mikhev – I think you've embarrassed your fellows enough, dear," Panashri called suddenly from the other side of the wall separating the mens' bath from the womens'. "We won't be doing the walking, the cuddling, or the cocoa if you don't get out and dry off so we can go!"
Mikhev blinked, glancing at the wall, and then laughed out loud. "The lady calls, boys," he said, still grinning broadly, and made his way back towards the door.
Ira didn't immediately follow. Kanoha got up after a moment and came over, offering him a hand that was unfortunately on a level with his generously-proportioned groin. Ira looked away as he accepted the hand up.
"Thanks," he said quietly as he waded through the bath after Mikhev.
"You're welcome. It was only a small sacrifice to make to get Mikhev to stop teasing you." Kanoha shrugged as Ira looked up at him, but he was smiling slightly. "It doesn't cost me any face to admit my attraction to a woman. This way too, I'll see if she feels a mutual attraction."
"Ah." Ira nodded, trying to keep his gaze forward.
"Ira." Kanoha stopped.
Ira stopped after a moment as well, looking up at him, trying to keep his gaze firmly fixed above Kanoha's neck. "Yes?"
"I may not speak as freely as Mikhev, but I am no less a man. I am just as flattered as he is when you look at me with appreciation, though I am no more likely to act on it." Kanoha was smiling slightly. It was hard to tell, but he might have been blushing slightly as well. "You don't need to feel awkward or self-conscious with us."
Ira swallowed, because Kanoha or Mikhev might not be embarrassed, but he certainly was. "I – yes. I'll try not to be."
He walked into the changing room and then jumped as Mikhev's large, broad hand swatted him lightly on the left butt-cheek and squeezed, unable to stop from staring at him wide-eyed, face hot enough to be almost literally aflame.
Mikhev just gave him that same broad grin, bright blue eyes twinkling. "It's okay – I know you like my junk. I'd say it's almost a pity a nice ass like yours isn't on a woman, but to each his own."
Kanoha cleared his throat. "We shouldn't keep the women waiting."
However much he tried to show it, Ira was decidedly scandalized by what had happened. Thankfully no one seemed to be paying that much attention. They were no sooner out the door than Soong casually put her hand on the inside of Kanoha's elbow.
He paused, giving her an intense look, and then smiled, cocking his arm and putting his other hand over hers, getting a small smile in return.
"Aww, y'all so cute!" Felicia said loudly with another of those big, sweeping, two-handed gestures, a big, dumb smile on her face.
If nothing else, the never-ending irritation she generated helped Ira recover his composure, enough that he was able to look away and roll his eyes.
When Mikhev climbed into bed with Ira as usual later that night, Ira gave serious thought to kicking him out. Mikhev didn't say anything, just pressed himself up against Ira's back, arm around his middle, breathing dropping almost immediately into the deep, even rhythms of sleep.
Ira thought about kicking him out, but he didn't.
They saw Dietricht at Shelly's Tavern the next night following after they'd gotten back from their most recent expedition to old Damuro. Ira had to resist the unfamiliar urge to approach him. He wasn't even sure what he'd say. Dietricht didn't look any happier than he had the night before. It was difficult for Ira not to keep looking for him in the crowd, see how he was doing, see if his expression was still as frustrated and downcast as before, and he didn't always manage it.
They'd no sooner finished their meal then Mikhev got up, gaze going to Ira. "I guess I have to be the one to talk to him then if you won't." He was gone before Ira could even think of a response, moving through the other patrons with hands on shoulders and murmured greetings.
He was good with people, Ira realized suddenly. A little freewheeling, a little loose – sometimes too much, but there was something that people liked about him – something even Ira liked about him. It let him get in close. It had certainly let him get in close to Ira.
Dietricht looked over as Mikhev socked him lightly on the shoulder, expression not really becoming welcoming, but he looked like he was listening. Mikhev gestured towards the bar, and they moved in that direction.
There was something in Ira that urged him to get up, follow them, and find out what they were talking about. He had to clamp down on it to stay where he was.
"What's he doin'?" Felicia asked. "Ain't that the guy from yesterday with the dead friends?"
Ira wanted to hit her.
Or throw his drink at her.
Or even just do both at the same time and hit her with his drink, which would be eminently satisfying but for the fact that it would be a waste of coin and as busy as it was, he wouldn't get a refill quickly.
"Felicia," he said, trying to keep a grip on his temper. "Shut up."
She looked back at him, opened her mouth, and then paused, big animal eyes scanning his face, some base instinct probably warning her of the overwhelming likelihood of disproportionate violence being meted out despite the associated cost. "Fine, geeze," she muttered.
He almost hit her with the drink anyway, but she subsided, staring down at what was left of her dinner. Ira looked away, and as he did he caught a glimpse of a smile appearing briefly on Yedani's face. It was hard to say if it was amused, or satisfied, or both.
"Okay, well I'm goin' home y'all." Felicia stood. She turned away from the table and then stopped, looking around. "Y'all gonna make me walk home by myself?"
"I think you'll be just fine," Soong said casually. "It's not dangerous as long as you stay in town – just a little cold. We'll come looking for you if we have to."
That last part struck Ira as interesting. Not need to, but have to. It was subtle, but he suspected that he wasn't the only one who'd gotten his fill of Felicia's flair for the dramatic and the grossly irritating. There was clearly more to Soong than healing spells and a pretty face.
Felicia hesitated a moment more, gaze sweeping the table, and then turned and walked away. Ira couldn't help it. He sat back, relaxing. His gaze went back to where Mikhev was still talking with Dietricht at the bar. They had mugs in their hands. Dietricht didn't look any happier than before. He looked down. His shoulders started to shake slightly.
Ira was half up out of his seat before he realized that Dietricht was smiling slightly, and sat back down, not missing the way he'd attracted looks from everyone but Kanoha, and that probably because Kanoha was trying to be polite.
"Dietricht is not unattractive," Panashri noted before taking a sip from her mug of ale.
"No," Ira replied, trying to regain a semblance of dignity. "He certainly isn't."
Yedani and Soong shared knowing looks.
Ira steadfastly refused to ask Mikhev what he and Dietricht had talked about on the walk back. It was difficult, almost painful, but he held in his desperate desire to know. After all, maybe he and Dietricht had been talking about women. They could have been.
It was one of those things Ira knew without knowing how, that there were a great many more men and women who preferred the opposite sex than those who enjoyed their own. As probabilities went, it was likely that Dietricht was exactly the same.
"It's almost more fun to leave you hanging in suspense," Mikhev said as they were almost back to their quarters. "Except I know you'll never say a word."
"He's not the only one you're keeping in suspense." Panashri had her hand in Mikhev's. She gave their hands a swing. "I too would like to know what the two of you discussed at such great length."
"Well, you know how some parties – like ours – start out with less than the full eight." Mikhev glanced at the sky. "People divide themselves up by how they feel comfortable without even really understanding who they're banding together with, sort of on instinct – even just a guess or a hunch."
"I think we all went with Ira because he seemed very strong. We certainly turned out to be right." Panashri leaned forward and smiled at Ira.
"I thought it was because I seemed like a good man," Mikhev shot her a mildly aggrieved look.
"Who also chose to go with Ira because he was strong," Panashri replied without missing a beat.
"Well – true enough." Mikhev elbowed Ira gently. "Anyway, it turns out Dietricht started out with six members in his party too. One of them was a martial artist, in fact."
Ira blinked. "But he only mentioned a Thief and a Mage – Ayami and Lou."
"Heard the names once and you still remember them." Mikhev's eyebrows rose slightly. "I didn't think you were that much of a people person, Ira. Anyway – they had a Martial Artist. Dumb as a box of rocks evidently, but very brave, very enthusiastic. He apparently got killed pretty early on though."
Given the combination, Ira wasn't terribly surprised by that. "His party's morbid casualty record aside, what else did you talk about?"
"This and that." Mikhev shrugged, looking ahead. "Apparently the three of them were running low on coin already, and funerals, cremations – those don't come cheap. A silver for each – that's two silvers for the Martial Artist early on, and then it'll be four for the other two. Not to mention they had to sneak in and collect the corpses today before the No Life King's magic could get a grip on them and turn them into walking dead."
Ira stopped short. "What do you mean – you – they – they went back?!" He couldn't help the incredulity in his voice. They were three, down from five – and they were hardly in any condition to face the goblins in Damuro proper. The three of them would probably have trouble with an equal number of goblins that they met outside the city, to say nothing of the almost certain encounter with one of the four member squads or eight member platoons inside.
Mikhev stopped as well but didn't meet Ira's gaze, looking up and past him instead as he reached up and scratched his chin, grimacing slightly. "Well, they had help, but that came at a price too. The Aizu Clan only charged them ten silvers, but . . ." He shrugged. "Dietricht's party is running on fumes. He's having a hard time finding replacements at the moment."
Ira turned away, walking quickly, thoughts awhirl. There was absolutely no way that Dietricht's party could have done as well as his own, not with only five members, not unless they were extremely skilled, but if they were that good then they wouldn't be in this much trouble in the first place.
The two silvers right from the start – that would have impacted their ability to improve gear and afford training in skills early on, and dropping their number to five would have markedly impaired their ability to earn in both the short and long term. They hadn't replaced that sixth member either. On top of it, fourteen silvers was not a trivial amount of coin even for Ira's party. It would have hit a party two members less with inferior equipment and learned skills even harder.
Well, one and a half if one considered Felicia's real worth, but the math worked out almost as equally bad.
Ira would be downright surprised if between the three of them, they had more than just enough coppers to rub together to afford the pittance of rent asked for the Trainee quarters they'd been assigned, to say nothing of getting enough to actually eat to avoid starving. The three of them had looked decidedly lean, but Ira hadn't really attributed any significance to that until now.
He'd no sooner crossed the threshold of their little domicile's courtyard than looked up at it and realized he was thinking it could conceivably accommodate three more, at least until he was ready for the step he'd already been contemplating next anyway.
Eight was a full party – thus the eight beds. With Tamiya there would be four girls in the womens' bunk room, putting it at capacity. Mikhev really shared a bed with Ira anyway, which technically left two beds available in the mens', and the addition of Dietricht and Miguel would put theirs at capacity at well. It would be a bit on the crowded side, but not too far beyond what the place was technically designed to handle.
No, he realized after a moment – Felicia also had a bed in the womens' bunk room. Was there really no end to how incredibly inconvenient she could be?! Maybe if they stuck her in a closet somewhere . . . they had a closet, didn't they? He was reasonably certain the one under the stairs across from the kitchen could accommodate someone.
"Soong and I have actually been sharing a bed anyway," Panashri said as she stopped next to him. "Tamiya would certainly be welcome to the extra."
"I was thinking perhaps we could convince Felicia to take the closet under the stairs, but that works just as well," Ira replied, only half-listening. He blinked, and shot her a side-long look.
Panashri gave him a slightly abashed smile, holding up her hands. "We talked among ourselves while you were walking ahead."
"Going over eight members will mean starting a clan." Ira turned, looking at all of them. "We'll be at ten. Well, technically we'll be at ten."
Mikhev grinned broadly, hands resting on his hips. "See, everyone? I told you Ira was going to take us places."
"Not until the third day. You started out as scared of him as the rest of us as I recall," Kanoha said, one eyebrow rising.
One the one hand, Ira was a little flattered. On the other, maybe he wanted just a little more fear back into them to keep them from teasing him as much as they had been over the course of the day.
"With good reason," he said perfectly evenly.
That got everyone's attention. Ira waited until he was facing away from them to let a smile creep across his features.
Mikhev still got into bed with him later though.
"You might not want to be quite so tough with Dietricht," he murmured in Ira's ear. "He doesn't know you like I do."
"I could still kick you out of bed," Ira muttered back.
"Yeah, but you won't," Mikhev said through a yawn as he nestled up against Ira.
Ira didn't kick him out of bed. He could have. He told himself he could.
But he didn't.
The sun was almost above the peaks by the time Dietricht's diminished party arrived at the forest gate where Ira waited with the members of his own party.
The big Knight slowed as he caught sight of them, and then pressed forward, the first shafts of sunlight waking a dull red gleam in his short hair, stubble on his face lengthened to the point where it shadowed the lower half of his face and part of his neck.
His deep blue eyes settled on Ira, and he inclined his head slightly. "Good morning," he said in that deep voice.
Ira tried not to show how much the sound of those words affected him, almost like the vibrations caressed something deep within. He nodded crisply. "You're almost late. We should get going."
Dietricht blinked. Miguel looked startled, glancing at Ira, and then at Dietricht, and then back. Tamiya's brow furrowed slightly, expression clearing a moment later.
Ira looked at Mikhev. "I'd assumed you'd told him you'd convince me."
Mikhev shrugged, and for once, he reddened slightly. "I might have left that part out." He cleared his throat. "Not that I had any doubt."
Of all the things to do, Dietricht grimaced, and Ira felt the bottom of his stomach fall out, because he'd evidently misjudged the situation.
"I uh-" Dietricht looked down, reaching up and running his right hand over the back of his head. "This isn't how I pictured it – us – I mean . . ." He abruptly closed his eyes for a moment, then stepped forward and took Ira's right hand in his left, looking down at him. "Thank you."
"He . . . wanted to impress you," Tamiya said suddenly. "Ever since the first time he saw you." She might have been blushing slightly. It was hard to tell.
Dietricht was blushing, but he had a slight smile on his face, blue eyes bashful. "Yeah."
"Oh." Ira tried to think of something to say, realized he couldn't think of anything, particularly in light of the events of the day before yesterday, and paused. There was a moment of awkward silence. "I'm sure you will," he said as firmly as he could manage, looking up at Dietricht.
To his surprise, Dietricht smiled at him.
Ira realized he was starting to blush, but at the same time, he didn't want to let go of Dietricht's hand either. He gestured with his free hand to the packed dirt track that led away from Ortana. "Let's talk on the way."
Ira was only half-listening to Dietricht as they walked – not that what he was saying wasn't important – it was personal, the way he'd been feeling like he'd let his party down, how it was a lot different than they'd all thought it would be when they started out, how they'd been so careful and yet in the end they'd still suffered loss. It wasn't an uncommon story, as Ira understood it. Volunteer Soldier lives were often brutal, poor, and short. It was the nature of the lives they led. The weak were either sheltered by the strong they supported, or fell, and sometimes even the strong fell with them.
Most of Ira's attention was on Dietricht's equipment though. The Knight's armor was barely any better than Mikhev's had been at the beginning – a full mail shirt, a full-torso breastplate that was only steel in the front with a leather back, a knee-length mail skirt with leather backing over his trousers, and his sword actually was the one he'd been given when he'd joined the Knights. The only halfway decent piece of gear in his possession was the massive shield he carried slung across his back.
Miguel was dressed in soft brown leather – a leather jacket over his green tunic, leather breeches, knee-high lace-up leather boots – none of it looked thick enough to provide much real protection, and his only weapon was a shillelagh that hung from his belt. He was, Ira was reasonably sure, something akin to a Priest in job function, but he didn't look any better prepared than Dietricht.
Tamiya was about as well equipped as the other two, with a charcoal gray iron breastplate and shoulder-guard over a mail shirt that came down just far enough to reach her waist on top of her hip-length red coat, legs protected by layered leather pads stitched on to the thighs of her brown leather trousers, brown boots calf-high.
They hadn't done well in coin, not unless they spent far more on obtaining skills than Ira expected, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that was the case. Enough coppers to rub together to pay rent might have been giving the situation a more favorable view than was owed.
"So y'all joinin' us," Felicia was saying towards the back of the group, voice boisterously loud and overtly enthusiastic. "That's real nice, y'all. Be great havin' y'all with us. Y'all gonna fit right in."
"We can make this work," Ira said, looking up and meeting Dietricht's gaze. "We will."
Dietricht drew in a deep breath and let it out, looking down briefly before meeting Ira's gaze once more. "I believe it."
He sounded like he was really trying hard to. Ira meant to see that determination to fruition.
They crossed into Damuro with little trouble, slipping in between the patrols, covering their tracks in the snow with the aid of a few pine branches to sweep them into oblivion, and crept into the ruins just as they had many times before. They ambushed a goblin squad, and Gomer joined their ranks once more.
Though Dietricht and Tamiya weren't as well equipped, they were no slouches in a fight. That Miguel had a Druidic spell that could actually hold an enemy in place was a pleasant surprise, and he was attentive. They did, as Ira had feared, also lack the breadth of skills of his own party members, but that could be rectified in time. They were far more effective than Felicia, but Ira had more or less expected that. It was easier to take down goblin squads – they pinned down platoons of eight and decimated them in minutes.
A little after the noon hour they stopped to rest, recoup their strength, and count their earnings. The results were promising. Dietricht, Miguel, and Tamiya were cautious, understandably so, but that didn't by any means keep them from pulling their own weight. It was enough and more than enough to compensate for Felicia's noticeably decreased effort.
Still, Ira couldn't genuinely claim to have expected any different.
It was not quite mid-afternoon and they were crossing a courtyard, taking a roundabout path both to bypass rubble blocking a street and also to flank another goblin position, when Gomer began acting strangely.
Well, acting and looking strangely really. For one thing, he was hovering a little behind Ira, eyes darting around, likely having circled back around using the opposite street to keep an eye for any goblins trying to flank the party as he was supposed to.
Kanoha was at the opposite end of the courtyard, keeping watch as the party members jogged across one at a time. Panashri was almost all the way across – only Soong, Dietricht, and Felicia were waiting with Ira.
Ira glanced back at Gomer. There was something odd about him – something about the eyes and the shape of the face. Hadn't they been different earlier in the morning? Perhaps it was just his imagination. He felt uneasy though.
"Gomer," he said absently. "Go scout."
That was when Gomer did something very strange that none of his predecessors had ever done before. He looked up at Ira, incomprehension in his dull eyes – incomprehension and something else.
It was gone, Ira realized abruptly. The little piece of crystal in his mind that belonged to Gomer, that was his subjugated spirit, was gone.
At some point it had vanished in the same way as it had every day after he'd told Gomer to lie down in the snow, pulled back his head, and shoved his knife into Gomer's throat, the same as it had when Yedani taken over doing it because she could do it cleanly with a single stroke instead of the awful gurgling noise Gomer had made before as he bled out and died each day.
Ira heard snow crunch behind him, like the sound of realization in his mind.
"Hear me." The resistance was suddenly there. Ira felt his heart skip a beat. "Know me." He crushed that resistance with brutal efficiency. "Heed me."
He felt the spell sink home, a new Gomer taking the place of one that had died without him even realizing it.
"Kanoha!" he shouted as he whirled. "Soong!"
Soong had stopped only a little ways away. Gomer was screeching something, but Ira already saw them, shadows on the walls, conical caps on little green heads rising almost in slow motion, crossbows already loaded.
Soong was too far away, too far for Ira to grab her and pull her back into cover. She was beyond his reach.
Felicia wasn't.
Ira put his shoulder into her back and shoved with everything in him. He sprawled forward in the snow as she windmilled forward, knocking Soong down, the startled noise Soong made as she was bowled over and Felicia fell on top of her punctuated by the click of eight crossbows.
Felicia jerked as quarrels slammed deep into her body, and went limp.
"Dietricht," Ira said more calmly than he felt, scrambling to his feet and getting into the cover of the archway at their back. "Get Soong."
For a wonder, Dietricht didn't question him, just moved, massive shield held above him as goblins reloaded their crossbows and took aim.
"Come, Spirit of Ravenous Flame. Take form, and become my armament." Ira let the words roll through him, let them drink deep of his strength. He moved to where he could see around a corner without being too exposed, not letting himself be distracted by the sight of more crossbow quarrels ricocheting off of Dietricht's shield even though it made his belly tighten. "Strike."
Flaming spears with the heads of serpents hissed through the air, finding eyes, throats, chests, bellies. Three goblins toppled, not rising again, a fourth screaming and clutching its blackened arm as its brethren sought cover. Kanoha's bow thrummed on the opposite side of the courtyard, and though Ira couldn't see the strike, a death rattle echoed across the courtyard.
Dietricht was gently levering Felicia's body aside with one hand, crouching low over Soong to give both of them as much cover as possible beneath the shield on his other arm.
There was a shriek and the sound of something giving way with a wet sound like crockery breaking in a sodden burlap bag from behind Ira, and he turned to see a massive goblin at least as tall as Dietricht lift its gory club from the spattered mess that was left of Gomer's shattered skull.
Dietricht was suddenly there, and Ira could feel the wind of his passing, shield smashing right into the massive goblin's face, knocking it backward off its feet and on top of two of its normal-sized kin as Dietricht drew his sword.
Ira didn't waste the opportunity. "Hear me," he said, feeling his will butting up against a goblin's once more, this mind stronger than the last, but still nowhere close to a match for Ira's even on his worst day, and especially not the way he was feeling now. "Know me. Heed me."
The big goblin staggered halfway to its feet, looking mildly dazed. The two smaller goblins were still clambering up, backing warily away.
"Gomer," Ira said breathlessly. "Kill them."
Gomer let out a howl as he turned and brought down his club.
"Dietricht," Tamiya said quietly afterward as the others were arranging Felicia's body, the broken ends of the crossbow quarrels that had taken her life tossed aside. "Isn't that one of the four goblin captains from the bounty board?"
Gomer crouched a short distance away, awaiting orders.
Ira looked away from where Yedani was gently folding Felicia's hands over her chest, following their gazes to the big goblin before returning his attention to the others.
Besides the eight goblins on the wall and the two that had been slain by the most recent iteration of Gomer, there had been five others waiting at the far end of the courtyard. It had been a hard fight, but fortunately Tamiya and Mikhev had been able to check the brunt of the sword goblins' ambush with Panashri's support. They'd taken wounds, but Miguel's regenerative Druid magic had kept them on their feet and prevented them from bleeding too profusely, and Yedani had been able to wreak havoc in the close, tight quarters while Kanoha kept the few remaining crossbow goblins pinned down at their positions until Ira, Gomer, Dietricht, and Soong could sweep the second story and end them.
All told, including the false Gomer, there'd been a total of seventeen goblins. That was four squads, which added up to two goblin platoons plus one extra. Their leader had been smart, and he'd obviously not only seen and eliminated the previous Gomer, but understood his function well enough to plant a double that Ira hadn't even noticed until it was nearly too late. That last part was the most worrisome.
Likely the goblin would have waited until Ira was distracted to put its sword through his ribs, and with him and Soong down, that would have left only Felicia and Dietricht to face off against the three coming at their back. After that they'd have closed with the remaining members of the party to finish the slaughter.
"It could be Gruesome Maul. We'd have to check for the scar to be sure, but I think that can wait," Dietricht replied just as quietly.
"Yeah, but we should probably say something. It's a five gold bounty for each captain," Tamiya murmured back. "Ten for this one if he's actually who we think."
A goblin captain, and one of four. Even without hearing about the bounty, Ira would have been intent on killing the current Gomer when they were done. If he was indeed the leader who'd orchestrated the ambush, perhaps even positioned the goblins a couple of blocks away as bait, then he was far too dangerous to let live.
For that matter, if any of the others were equally as clever, then removing them was a priority for more immediate reasons than even the seductive gleam of that kind of cold, hard cash. This one had been sly enough by himself. Facing more than one with a grasp of tactics and a devious mind could very well end up being quite deadly.
Facing this one certainly had been for at least one among their number.
Felicia looked strangely peaceful in death. It was as if the stillness gave her a dignity she'd never possessed in life, the dumb, panicky animal eyes forever shut, the lips of her large mouth only slightly parted instead of spread wide to loose banal inanity upon all and sundry within auditory range, broad hips and rangy legs never to carry her along in that strange, rolling lope ever again.
It felt a little odd, though not in a bad way, knowing that he'd never feel the urge to hit her with something blunt or even something sharp again, never feel the urge to push her down a steep flight of stairs, or down a well, or off a bridge, never again want to choke her with a turkey leg from her meal, or strangle her, or just leave her unconscious out in the wild somewhere to die of exposure or an animal or goblin attack.
Actually, a small part of him felt like it was almost a shame – not that he wanted her back, but because she'd finally been in a position to do something for the party, and it had only been the one, single opportunity, ending any possibility of future usefulness, however slight, for good.
Realistically he knew it was vanishingly unlikely that they'd find themselves in an identical set of circumstances where she'd be able to act once again as a human shield anyway, especially given the manner in which she'd served this time and subsequent knowledge of Ira's likely recourse, but it just seemed like a waste nonetheless, especially when one considered not only her lost earning potential, which though admittedly not stellar, had become at least comparatively significant, not to mention the resources she'd already consumed in being brought this far.
They'd all agreed that trying to take her body back with them would slow them down and possibly endanger someone, but the goblin crossbows didn't sell very well anyway – no one wanted the wood, and they had precious little metal – so they would serve as impromptu pyre fuel and she'd almost certainly be ash or satisfactorily close to it by the time the fire burned out just the same, and really, what was a funeral at the end of the day except for a time for people to say their goodbyes? For her part, Felicia was well and truly beyond caring at this point, whether one believed in an afterlife, or reincarnation, or some combination of both or neither.
Looking at her lying there though, Ira couldn't help but be aware of how the others probably regarded him. He didn't regret his decision in the slightest, but he could definitely see how it might change perceptions of him. They'd all of them known that he utterly despised Felicia, but there was no denying that he'd crossed a line in using her as he had to save Soong's life. Ultimately, it didn't matter, but he well and truly wished it hadn't had to have happened this way, if for no reason other than it might put the rest of them unreasonably in fear for their own lives in similar situations.
In the end though, it was just another price paid for their survival, another expense paid to give them another day. He had used her life just like he expended Gomer's at the close of every expedition. He had traded Felicia's life for Soong's, and counted his party the richer for having been able to satisfy that balance in the coin he had tendered.
Soong bent almost tenderly over Felicia's body. "Thank you for saving my life. I really am sorry that it cost you yours in the doing," she said quietly.
"You . . . lived your life with spirit and enthusiasm," Panashri said next, before moving to join Soong, Kanoha, and Mikhev a little farther away.
"You taught me how to feel compassion for someone less fortunate," Yedani said, looking down at the body before walking away as well.
Miguel took her place, pausing next to Felicia's corpse, cleared his throat, grimaced slightly, and then walked on as well, head down in very apparent embarrassment.
"You were . . . kinda extra, girl." Tamiya half-shrugged as she stopped by the body next. "But I don't think you were a bad person. Peace."
Only Dietricht and Ira were left. Dietricht looked like he was thinking hard. Ira resisted the urge to tell him that the occasion didn't really call for that kind of effort. There was no sense in being overtly crass, and the Knight had to have a poor enough opinion of him at this point anyway. There was no telling what damage he'd just done to Dietricht's still-forming perception of him, and this kind of impression was likely a lasting one.
"I truly think you meant well," the red-haired Knight said finally, looking down at Felicia's still form. "I could tell just from meeting you that you lived your life the best way that you knew how. Maybe you weren't the bravest, the smartest, the quickest, or the most successful - but you tried. You didn't give up. It's easy to quit when things get hard, and some of us have it harder than others, but you got up every day, and you kept at it. That takes guts. You did what you could, and I respect you for that."
Ira was left staring at Dietricht, not in skepticism or in disbelief, but rather a little humbled, and just a little ashamed of his own uncharitable thoughts in the face of seeing a perfect stranger who'd really never known Felicia find a kind word for her and give a eulogy that really wasn't that bad.
Of course, there was the fact that they'd been very nearly perfect strangers in the first place, but it still spoke very eloquently about Dietricht's depth of character.
Ira stopped next to her last of all, rubbing his hands together, feeling the heat of friction, not even needing words for the little wisp of a spell he'd built up as he held up his hands and blew across his palms, a half-dozen little flamelets spinning along his breath and falling to catch on Felicia's red sweater and start a merry little blaze.
"Well," he said mildly as the first tendrils of smoke began to rise toward the afternoon sky, "Bye, Felicia."