The most profitable place on Earth!
"Easy, Minerva."
Gerome said it more for his nerves than for Minerva's. It was… strange. For as long as he could remember, death and life were intertwined. Every day was a battle in a losing war.
Now? Now the most anyone had to worry about was a few bandits, and they grew fewer every month. The Risen were a rare sight, a story to frighten children around a campfire. And Gerome was…
Well, he was at a loss. He knew how to face death with dignity. He knew how to accept defeat.
Naga help him, but Gerome had no idea how you were supposed to deal with winning. He might have been able to cope if he could just vanish, disappear into Wyvern Valley alone to brood on things until he could sort out his feelings on the whole mess. If.
"GEROME!"
He smiled and sighed. It would have been much easier if he was alone. But it wouldn't have been worth it. Gerome patted Minerva. She grunted, but she still went circling to the ground.
His wife was waiting for him when he landed. She was smiling, which meant anything from Naga herself arriving to praise Morgan's strategic brilliance to their house burning down.
It would probably be a good idea to clarify which it was before Morgan asked any questions.
"Morgan, why are you smiling?"
"Oh. I'm smiling?"
Morgan's finger slid up to the side of her mouth before falling back to her chin.
"Huh. How about that!"
"That doesn't answer my question."
Morgan nodded.
"Well, there's the fact I'm married to a total hunk. The cutest Wyvern in the world is right in front of me, so that might be it. Also my mother is coming over so that might be it but really..."
Gerome felt a bead of sweat forming behind his mask. Why couldn't their house have burned down? He could have lived with their house burning down.
"Your mother Anna?"
"Yep! Not like I have any other mothers it could be."
Morgan scratched her chin.
"Other Annas, maybe. I mean, mother always did look a little like Aunt Anna. She said they both inherited it from their great grandmother Anna. Um, I kind of lost the family tree. You probably should claim you saw it recently."
"Why is your mother coming here?"
"Sales, I think. She had a big contract with your parents, and since she was nearby, she thought she'd check in on us. Well… that's what she said, at least."
"Please tell me that Robin will be here as well."
"Don't worry. I'm great at lying."
The sweat behind Gerome's mask was starting to get in his eyes. All things considered, it was probably the least of his problems.
"He won't be here."
"No. He's busy doing world's best father stuff, apparently. Which is good, because I might resent it if he was spending all his time with someone who wasn't me. It's just going to be you, me, Minerva, and mother."
"Perfect."
"It won't be that bad? Oh. Wow. I just put a question mark there. That might not be a good sign."
Gerome turned to look away.
"I faced the terrors of a future where death stalked all but the most wary and life was a brief diversion. I fought against the dragon that stalked my nightmares and stood alert. I can deal with your mother."
Morgan nodded.
"That's probably the spirit. Also, I prepared several emergency escape routes if things really go out of hand. If it looks like there's a pit trap…"
"You expect me to hide in a pit trap?"
"I was going to say it's a decoy, and the pit trap is somewhere else. Probably everywhere else. I might have made a few more contingency plans than we absolutely needed."
"And all of them were… pit traps."
"The most versatile of all traps."
Gerome wouldn't know where to start if he wanted to argue. As usual with Morgan, there was a thin line between genius and insanity, and it would take far more research than he'd ever managed to tell which it was, or how to discuss it.
Brooding silence had seldom failed him over the long years. He saw no reason to ignore it now.
Morgan's head bobbed again. There were days Gerome wondered if it had the same springs as a ballista at its base. It would certainly explain some of the energy.
"I'm going to take that as complete agreement. This is why our marriage is so successful."
Brooding silence was not doing its job as well as Gerome would like.
"I wasn't agreeing."
"I know. You were brooding. And doing it really well."
Gerome shook his head.
"This argument is pointless. We should focus on the task at hand."
"I wouldn't say anything where I get to watch you at peak brood is pointless, but… you're probably right. Can you handle the cooking?"
Gerome smiled a little.
"Perhaps."
It was a simple meal, in the grand scheme of things. Valmese peasant cooking, drawn from the local crops and small game. It traveled well, could be prepared quickly under pressure, and was filling on a long march. A perfect meal if you were going to need to run soon.
Admittedly, his mother taught him to prepare it more for dealing with Risen than for dealing with in-laws, but the general principles were the same.
Gerome was putting the finishing touches on the stew when he heard the first steps down the path. A small voice at the back of his head tried to inspire a moment of hope. There could be other visitors. Lost woodsmen. Children abandoned to be raised by wyverns. Bandits, there were sometimes bandits in the mountains this time of year.
But Gerome had never been one for false hope. If it was anyone else, they would have fallen into a pit by now. The visitor was family.
The visitor was knocking at the door. Gerome took a breath. With just a moment to compose himself, he could handle everything. With a few seconds free, he could take the nightmare and force it to make sense.
"Hello mother! Dinner is ready and waiting!"
He did not have those few seconds. His mother-in-law was already walking towards the table with Morgan at her side.
"You didn't overspend, did you?"
"Not a coin. All local foliage and unpaid labor! Pure profit."
"That's my girl. Although I still think you should do something with your h..."
Anna turned to look at Gerome.
"And hello handsome! Still wearing that old mask?"
"My decisions are none of your concern."
"Are you sure? I could get you the latest model at barely over cost."
"This mask will suffice."
"If you say so..."
Anna leaned closer to Morgan.
"I can get you a family discount. AND a trade-in bonus. Just steal it away when he's sleeping..."
"He can hear you."
"Then he should know that he won't find a better deal anywhere. Wait. The Wyvern can understand what I'm saying, can't she?"
"Yes."
"Then tell her that if she can…"
Gerome tried to focus on his stew. At least it wasn't plotting to betray him. At least the stew wasn't chattering away with a thousand pointless words to camouflage its real intent, or making him blush beet red with sidelong compliments. He could focus on the stew and understand what it meant.
The stew also wasn't making obscene gestures, nodding towards Gerome, and smiling.
Gerome's face went even redder.
Even the stew was starting to take on… disturbing qualities. Morgan using it in several detailed analogies didn't help.
It was odd how something so charming in private was utterly horrifying with just one more person in the room, but that was the miracle of Morgan. Gerome looked around for anything he could use as an excuse to leave. Morgan made eye contact through his mask.
Gerome hoped it was clear enough what he was feeling without one of her specialized emotion designs. Wearing 'Deep Seated Humiliation' would be almost as awful as he was feeling already.
Morgan winced, at least. It almost looked like an apology. She turned to face her mother.
"Err… you know what? Maybe I shouldn't finish that story. Even if I am almost to the best part… Nope. Not going to say any more. Also, you're burning the notes."
Anna slid a paper under the table.
"Of course. It's not like I could get much for them anyway. I'll just..."
Minerva leaned under the the table, and a small puff of smoke drifted into the air.
Anna winced.
"Or your Wyvern can help me dispose of it. Thank you, Minerva."
Minerva snorted.
Gerome nodded.
"She says you're welcome."
In a very sarcastic tone, of course, but there was no need to bring it up. Anyone who knew Wyverns at all could recognize it.
Anna smiled.
"That's very helpful of her."
Morgan winced again.
"...Right. Err, moving on, what brings you here, Mother?"
"Isn't spending time with family enough of a reason?"
Morgan and Anna both laughed. Gerome felt very, very confused.
After a second, Morgan wiped away a tear.
"No, seriously."
Anna smiled.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"No… if it was, I wouldn't be asking. I'd probably be asking about something else."
Anna reached into her pack and pulled out a scroll, which she opened on the table in front of Morgan. It was hard to see what it said through fogged eyeslits, but Gerome could make out a word at the center.
And even if he couldn't, Morgan read it out loud a second later.
"Wyvernland."
"The latest Anna Sisters resort attraction! A fun family destination for the whole family."
Minerva tilted her head. Gerome felt a strong urge to join her.
"You think that this could be a… camp site?"
"No, of course not. Camp sites are cut rate, for fly by nights and novice businesses. Anna Sisters limited prides itself on quality! Children of all ages can enjoy a relaxing day in nature, but when they inevitably get tired of that…"
Anna jabbed her finger onto the map.
"A host of exciting rides wait for our discerning customers! We can start off with basic slides and a merry-go-round, but when we have a better understanding of the client base, we can build new attractions that better highlight the subtle majesty of Wyvern Valley!"
"Subtle."
"Very subtle. That's what the mood lighting is for. A top researcher recently developed a new potion that glows bright blue when you fire off a simple bolt tome nearby. I'm sure we can convince her to install a few examples throughout the park to direct visitors to…"
Gerome blinked. The map seemed to grow new tangents every few seconds, drifting into terrifying depths that Gerome could not even begin to understand. No god or man could provide an answer to Anna's deep madness before him, but he could at least offer a question.
"Why would we want any of this?"
Anna smiled.
"Because the family amusement park market is going to explode soon. With the stress of the Risen and the the wars, people have been... coming together. Now that the wars are over, they'll stay together. In a few years, they'll have children. They'll want to make sure they have happier lives than they did, so they'll pay whatever it takes to make them happy. And then I rake… then we all rake in the gold!"
"And why do I want gold?"
Anna seemed to shatter. After a second, she shook herself and pulled herself back together.
"I must have heard you wrong. Why wouldn't you want gold?"
Morgan waved her hands at the corner of Gerome's vision, but he ignored her. There were more important things to worry about.
Certainly more important than gold.
"We can find what we need living off the land. I have family. Shelter. Enough to eat. What good would gold do me?"
Anna blinked.
"It's gold."
"That doesn't…"
Morgan slapped her thigh very hard.
"HAHAHAHA"
Gerome turned to face her.
"I don't see…"
Morgan wiped away a tear.
"Oh, man. That is still hilarious. I knew mom would love your classic 'I don't care about gold' routine."
Anna looked from Morgan to Gerome and back.
"Oh! Of course it was a joke. That would be too ridiculous to believe."
"Ha! I know. The mask means he has a great poker face, and normally he's too shy to make that kind of joke in public, but around here, I'm not the funny one."
Morgan paused.
"Well neither is he. I think we agreed that's Minerva's job."
Gerome lifted an eyebrow.
"Morgan?"
"Oh, right. I just remembered that… dessert. I should talk about that. With Gerome. In the kitchen. With Gerome."
After a second, Morgan winked.
"With Gerome."
Anna winked back.
"Of course you can 'talk'. But don't take too long. I'm not sure Wyvernland will wait."
"Got it!"
Morgan grabbed Gerome's arm and dragged him into the kitchen. It was always surprising how much force she put into it. Gerome assumed if she'd married another man, one with a little less upper body strength, his arm would probably be well out of its socket right now. Possibly in another country.
Gerome kept up as best he could, through the kitchen, out into the forest, and past a false wall into a small cave.
"Did you make this today?"
"I thought we might need to talk in private. 'Always have an escape plan'. That's what father says. Which seems more useful than one of the things mother always says right now."
"I… see. Why did you drag me out here?"
"Talking. Actual talking."
Morgan took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
"I had a pretty good guess at what mother was coming here to discuss. I mean, not the exact name, but everything else, I had guessed."
"Why?"
"Because I came up with it the first day I was here. More or less."
Morgan looked at Gerome's stoney face and sighed.
"I guess it seemed crazier to you than it did to me."
She reached up her sleeve and pulled out her tactician's notebook, then she started flipping through the pages.
"Okay, here's my monthly schedule, here's how to embarrass everyone I know, including your twelve pages…"
Gerome lifted his eyebrow for the second time that day.
"Twelve."
"I swear, it's a sign of affection. If I didn't like you so much, I wouldn't spend so much time on stuff like this. Okay, here's the profit margins for grain trade, aaaannnddd… "
Morgan opened the book to a two page spread. It looked a good deal like Anna's mad diagrams, assuming someone tried to copy them with less artistic talent and even more enthusiasm. Gerome could see an excess of exclamation points after some of the notes.
"Ta da!"
Morgan's smile was at half mast.
"It's been a while, so I don't really remember all the ideas, but I wrote most of them down. There's even a job for you."
"For me."
Morgan flipped through a few more pages to a picture of an elaborate costume.
"Yep. You'd be Wyvernman, the lovable mascot. It would be pretty much perfect, since you could just walk around brooding at things. I thought that the younger kids would love to hear your grim monologues about how doomed they were. And then the parents would want to pay for a ride so they'd be distracted… I had this whole thing mapped out!"
"WHY?"
Morgan's smile dropped to a quarter.
"Well, because it had almost everything I wanted. We'd earn a lot of gold, which is nice. People would be happy, and I'd be around a lot of happy people, which I always like. There'd be more Wyvern awareness, so that could help cut poaching, especially since it's really hard to slip in and steal away baby wyverns when there's a bunch of people riding a water slide five feet away, we could find someone for Minerva... "
Morgan's eyes were sparking.
Gerome coughed.
"If you liked the idea so much, then why didn't you say anything?"
Morgan's face stretched and shifted. Gerome wondered why she'd even thought to make masks for her own expressions, when she could cover the most subtle emotions so easily.
For example, right now it was a perfect 'Are you kidding me, I thought you were at least sort of smart.'
"Because you wouldn't like it."
"But you…"
"Exactly. You'd be all self sacrificing and broody for me, and then you'd be miserable."
"I would never ask you to sacrifice…"
"Which is why I didn't need you to ask. I could be happy either way. Natural sunny optimism is great that way. But getting you to smile is hard enough already. No point in making things worse."
Morgan slammed the book shut.
"Which means we just need to tell mother why it won't work. You have a good reason all planned out, right? I'm… not going to be the best at arguing against it for reasons I'm pretty sure are obvious."
"You expect me to talk her out of it?"
Morgan shrugged.
"I expect you to give me a few ideas. Then I can spin them into something that sounds good enough mother won't think I've gone insane. Err… more insane. And we can go back to, you know. Living miles away from anyone else with no-one but wyverns for company. Which I don't really have that much of a problem with."
"You won't miss the company?"
"Well, I have you. I think that makes me the luckiest girl in the world, even ignoring everything else. We can work out details later. The important thing is making sure we shut down mother's plan before she makes too many contracts. She probably has some in play already."
Gerome looked down at the book in Morgan's hands and remembered the diagrams, scrawled with an enthusiasm bordering on love. Morgan's smile the times they'd had guests. And Minerva could use a wider dating pool, especially at her age…
"What if we compromised?"
Morgan's head turned fast enough to break the neck of anyone trying to keep up.
"What?"
"Perhaps we could have a… nature park. Something smaller scale, to allow for visitors without disrupting the environment. "
"And a little gold?"
"And… a little gold. Would that satisfy your mother?"
"Probably not, but that wasn't going to happen at all. I'm pretty sure I can sell this to her, though. Trust me, I have excellent sales skills."
Gerome smiled a little. It… might be nice to see a few more people. From time to time.
"I'll tell her you volunteered to be Wyvernman!"
"What?!"
"You're just so excited to play with kids! I had to spend the whole time listening to you talk about how you loved making the costume!"
"I didn't say any of that!"
Morgan ran off. Gerome sighed and ran after her.
At least he could be sure everything was real. He never would have invented anything this embarrassing.
Men and women merely players
"We're broke."
Severa watched Owain's jaw drop and his eyes boggle. Of course. He had to overreact to everything. He'd have some elaborate metaphor ready to pretend like this was some shocking new development, when he already knew it was coming. Predictable.
"We had five thousand gold!"
Severa winced. Oh. He was actually shocked this time. Almost like he wasn't paying attention.
Yes. Fine. They had five thousand gold after that last visit to whatever gods-damned tomb full of spiders Owain had heard a legend about. And yes, fine. It was less than a month ago, and maybe someone, somewhere, could keep five thousand gold for that long, even if they weren't perfect.
But that someone was either a poor sap who hadn't found the most perfect new top imaginable, or an idiot who would call it overpriced, and either way, they didn't have anything to do with Severa.
"Fine. Maybe we had five thousand gold. But we don't now. And in case you hadn't noticed, we can't expect the gold fairy to come flying in and reward us for being good little mercenaries! We'll need more money in a hurry if you want to keep eating."
"We had five thousand gold?"
Severa rolled her eyes.
"We can't just live in the past, Owain."
Owain opened his mouth. Severa glared.
"Gawds! Fine. We're literally living in the past. But we can't get the money back just by wanting it."
"By the beard of Bartre, how did you… we lose five thousand gold?"
"It doesn't matter!"
Severa shook her head. Her mother would never have such a stupid problem. Then again, her mother was working for royalty, drawing a steady pile of gold, free lodging, food, and anything else she needed, just for doing her job. No questions asked.
Severa was working with royalty as a low rent sell sword. Every single little thing she had, she had to earn. Every employer had a thousand tricks to weasel her and Owain out of what they'd bargained for, and he never would notice on his own.
She still remembered the time that she let him arrange a job. There was not a word in any language she knew that was sufficient to describe her emotions when she found out he'd agreed to a three week contract for nothing more than food, lodging, and a chance to ""TEST THEIR METTLE AGAINST FOES WORTHY OF THE BLOOD OF HEROES!"
At least it proved she was a good person. A bad person, or even an indifferent one, would probably have stabbed someone for that.
Owain was looking around the room. And in the general direction of Severa's wardrobe.
"Does it have anything to do with…"
"I already said it doesn't matter. The only reason I told you we were broke was so you know that we need work. Immediately. And lucky you, I know how to find it."
Owain grimaced.
"From one of the upscale clothing boutiques that would be out of business if it wasn't for you?"
"Are you muttering? You know, one of the things I actually like about you is that shout whatever stupid thing we're going to argue about instead of trying to hide it. Not that it matters. I actually have real work, instead of one of your imaginary battles with destiny for the fate of the world."
"A suitable challenge for two of the fellest warriors in Ylisse and the lands beyond?"
Severa thought back to 'suitable challenges'. Suitable challenges tended to end with her clothing ruined, her nails broken, or Owain bleeding from several gaping holes as someone she didn't want to name sobbed like a baby.
"Let's hope not. If it makes you feel any better, you can pretend that it is, and I'll indulge you every time you talk about it."
Owain grinned, and Severa's heart melted. Just a little.
"A host of foul demons?"
"Why not?"
"Perhaps a duel with a legendary swordsman?"
"I was thinking a dozen of them. I'll even try to downplay how great you were so people believe it actually happened. You know, 'ugh, you could have been killed', 'it wasn't that impressive', 'if you weren't such an idiot, you wouldn't have to be such a hero.' Just the terrible person everyone expects. "
Owain nodded.
"A fiend more monstrous than a thousand Risen."
"I can pretend you didn't say that, or you can pretend you won't be sleeping on the couch for a month. And while you decide, I'm going to find some work before we starve to death. I'll be back when I have it. Don't do anything stupid, alright?"
Severa opened the door and walked out before Owain could wreck her nice, simple request.
It wouldn't be that hard for Severa to find work, not in Rosanne. The constant feuds in the upper classes meant that someone, somewhere always needed mercenaries, and the tendency to promote total twits to the highest levels of power meant you could get away with charging much more than the going rates. It was about as good as things got for a mercenary in what was, ostensibly, peacetime.
She drifted along the back roads from the outskirts to the city proper and tried to remember who'd hired her before. It wasn't like anyone expected loyalty from a mercenary, but it was usually a bad idea to try to kill someone who paid you well the last time you were in town. It didn't make people think you were a good investment.
She was still sorting through the memories when she drifted through the door to one of the city's more upscale clubs. A large man interrupted her train of thought, just as she remembered that this particular club had the audacity to refuse her admission before on some grounds or other.
The man loomed. At a guess, he was the security. Either that, or someone shaved a gorilla as a joke and no-one had noticed yet.
"You don't belong here."
Severa turned and looked up to appraise her conversation partner. He had a few scars, muscles big enough to draw separate paychecks, and a look in his eye he must have thought was intimidating.
"I'll leave once I'm done. In case you didn't notice, I have business here."
Well, she would soon enough. Honestly, why was this idiot still trying to keep her back? Couldn't he see that he was talking to someone wearing hair accessories worth more than his whole suit? Severa dressed nicely this morning, and anyone with a brain could recognize she was radiating low life sewer trash hick who grew up in a post-apocalyptic hell where she never had proper lessons on…
Severa shook her head.
Radiating class!
Not that the bouncer noticed.
"Business, huh? See, I'm here on business too."
"Fine. That means you can go back to picking your nose, and I can leave to talk to the people who are better at pretending they matter."
The man cracked his knuckles.
"Funny. You're a really funny woman. Guess you're a comedian. Well, I'm not funny like you. I just do one thing."
"Drool all over the floor?"
The man smiled. It was even less impressive than the look in his eyes.
"Hurt people who try to get in without an invitation."
He pulled back his arm for a punch. Severa adjusted her stance and felt a breeze whiff by her ear. Before the man could respond, Severa grabbed his arm and twisted it back.
"What the hell?"
Severa grimaced. The hell was having to waste her time fighting an idiot when she was already wasting the whole day trying to earn a few gold.
The man seemed like he was about to say something impolite. Severa applied more pressure to his arm.
The man no longer seemed like he was going to say anything, other than maybe sobbing. Severa looked away. There had to be someone…
"What is the meaning of this?"
Ugh. It seemed like what there had to be was someone interrupting when Severa was right in the middle of something.
"Try to guess!"
The man stumbled back.
"Gods."
Severa winced. Another victory for her award winning social skills.
"Look, we just had an argument, and it got out of hand, alright? It's not that big a deal. I was just…"
The man was gone already. Probably to call for more guards and make her life even more difficult. And if she ran, they had her face to send people after her and cause just as much trouble as if she stayed. Her perfect day was somehow getting even better. Maybe Inigo would be working security. That would fit right in with the rest of her luck.
Severa let go of the bouncer's arm and let him run off. Ruining his day wouldn't improve hers any, tempting as the idea was.
Severa looked around. Well, she didn't have anything better to do. She walked over to the bar. The bartender walked away at about the same rate.
She sighed. Well, it looked like she had to handle everything herself. As usual.
None of the drinks looked good, but a few at least looked expensive. If you could pretend they went down well, it helped you look classy in front of the client, and that made it worth practicing.
Severa was almost done pouring her first glass when someone coughed behind her.
"I hear you caused a little trouble earlier, madam. I think I may wish to discuss a few matters with you."
Severa carefully lowered the glass.
"What do you want?"
Severa's teeth slid against each other. Too blunt. MUCH too blunt.
"I mean… it might be a way to pass the time."
The man took a seat.
"I thought so as well. Perhaps we could both profit from this little talk."
Severa nodded without looking at him. It was the old dance. Somewhere in Ferox, or even Ylisse, you could just handle things. 'Do you need anyone stabbed?' 'Why, yes! Here's a bag of gold. Please go and stab them.' There were details to the negotiation, of course, but everyone was clear what they wanted.
In Rosanne, people liked to pretend they were civil, especially when they weren't. You had to work by implications and suggestions, and one wrong word could end with your client denying they wanted to hire you in the first place.
"I might be able to help with something."
"Good."
"Fine."
The man looked at the glass.
"If you do not mind the suggestion, madam, I have heard stories of a woman who might be your twin. She was… involved in certain disputes of state. I imagine you must have heard of her."
"I might have."
The man nodded.
"Perhaps you were busy in some street brawl. A shame that such a pleasant young woman would be forced to lower herself to direct conflict, but you seem to have some talent for it. Ah, but I have heard men say Naga gives a canvas for even the lowliest of talents. Perhaps, in some small way, I could some day work her will."
"You should be a priest."
"I fear that was never my gift. Perhaps you have more of a gift for prayer than I? I doubt I could provide any instruction on that front."
"Ha. Right."
The man reached across the bar for a glass. Just as well. Severa's was empty.
"I may be of assistance, then. I fear that you will not be working alone, but if you have reliable help, perhaps another with the same blessings from Naga, we may be able to discuss the finer details…?"
"I can bring someone. He's good for it."
"I am sure he cannot match your charm, but it will be a pleasure to make the acquaintance of anyone such a lady would deem worthy. I will discuss the matters with him."
The man slid the glass to Severa. There was a small note underneath it, with a time and an address. Severa slipped it into her pocket as she downed the drink. Bitter. But you couldn't cough. She'd never be perfect, but she could at least be a step above the usual idiots.
She nodded without looking and walked back to the door. It wasn't far to where she and Owain were staying, and then she could...
She could imply that Owain was going to handle some of the talking. Like a godsdamned idiot.
Funny how she thought that she'd mined all of her self loathing already, and here she was, with a fresh reserve out of nowhere.
If she had a halfway decent alternative, she'd leap for it. As she did not, Severa kept walking towards the room that would probably boot her out inside a week if she didn't find the funds.
"Owain, I'm back!"
He dropped a notebook on the ground and slid it under the couch.
"How fares…"
"Fine. I found work. We're going to talk with the client, and hope that it doesn't turn out he wants to stab us in the back."
"Fate reaches down and grants another fell quest for the SCIONS OF DESTINY. The gods themselves have decreed a path of blood and duty, but even they could not predict…"
Owain paused.
"We're going to talk to the client?"
"I don't like the idea either, but he suggested it. Normally, they're just happy to get two people working for them instead of one, but he wanted to see you for himself instead of letting me vouch for you and get it over with."
"Ah."
"So we're going to do this smart. You're not going to act weird. You're going to let me handle as much of the talking as we can get away with. And then we just do the work without pretending it's something else, because we're on enough of a tightrope as it is."
"Ah, a deep cover mission, acting under a false guise so that our foes will never suspect the true nature of their destroyers."
"You know what? Fine. You can put it that way. They'll never know."
Owain smiled.
"Never, until they face the mysterious gods of death, who will reveal the true nature of their passing. They were not doomed to fall by fate under an unkind star. Instead they were slain by the warriors of a doomed world, the conquerors of fate. For their slayer was OWAIN HIMSELF, the dark avenger who even death itself fears! Aye, there was no…"
"Owain?"
"Err… I'm going overboard and you're going to ask me to MMPPHH!"
Severa's mouth locked onto Owain's. After a moment, he reciprocated. A little voice at the back of Severa's head said that there were more important things to worry about. The rest of her mind told her to shut up. By some mad miracle, someone like her had actually managed to wind up with something worth having, and by more of a miracle he loved her back.
Not much could be more important than that.
It was a very nice night.
Sadly, a nice night didn't make for a nice morning, even if you woke up first. In the morning the little voice from the last night was smugly telling Severa it told her so.
She rolled out of bed and stumbled through her morning rituals. Her hair had to be subdued, her skin and eyes had to be disguised to convince strangers that she could pass for beautiful, and on and on and on.
Eventually, she looked almost presentable, and felt like she wasn't going to get any closer to the goal no matter how hard she tried. Good enough for talking to someone she probably would never see again after a month was gone. She walked over to the bed and gently shoved Owain.
"It's morning."
"...but Altina, I'm a married man… what? Well, if a goddess doesn't count…"
Severa punched Owain much less gently.
"SO GET UP YOU IDIOT!"
Owain fell to the floor. If he'd been saying anything else before he fell, Severa would regret something. As it was, she regretted that the ground was so close.
"We have places to be! Now get some clothes on and get moving!"
Owain struggled with his pants as Severa considered her options. Knowing how this tended to go, she'd either start feeling awful about herself and sorry for him, or she'd be so busy convincing herself she was right that she'd yell at Owain even more without him understanding anything about her reasons in an endless cycle of petty vengeance.
Either way, she'd waste hours of both of their time to no productive end, which she couldn't afford right now, and didn't need ever.
Instead, she stormed out the door to wait. Owain could handle himself. Severa could handle herself. Trying to handle each other would just… GAH. Severa pushed down a multitude of images from the past night. She didn't need to think about that either.
...At least, not right now.
Severa was still shaking off some of the more vivid images when Owain came out the door. She didn't dare look at him.
"Good. We're going. Don't. Be. Weird."
"Ha! As if the scion of…"
Owain slammed his mouth shut, then nodded.
"Like I'm talking to my mother."
"Exactly."
It wasn't much of a walk to the appointment. Just five fountains, a scenic archway, and half statues of generals on horses. By the local standards, it was quite modest.
The client's home wasn't. Owain's jaw dropped.
"By…"
"I know. It's impressive. Don't let him know that. As far as he knows, we're doing great, and if he can't offer us enough, we'll just work for one of his rivals or… have our servants hunt some grouse for us or something."
Severa looked for the door, and kept her jaw locked in place, just to be contrary. It wasn't that impressive. She grew up in a palace! She'd seen all the crown heads of two continents! She'd seen…
She'd just seen half a dozen of the most detailed stained glass windows in the world. How did anyone make those? The pictures of Tiki looked more like the real thing than the real thing did.
Severa shook her head and went for the door-knocker (emblazoned with two or three complete battle scenes from Valm's rich history.)
A small man who had to be a servant of some kind opened the door. Severa considered yelling, then considered the man.
It wasn't like she could kick him down any more.
"I have an appointment."
"Of… of course, madam. This man is your... companion?"
"Yes."
No need for the details.
The butler, or whatever he was, nodded.
"Excellent, madam. Please forgive the wait, but I'm sure…"
The man from the club stepped into view and shoved his servant aside.
"I'm sure you'll be glad to know you do not need to wait any longer. If you will follow me, I'm sure we can reach an arrangement. A… private agreement. You understand what gossips servants can be, of course?"
Severa bit down a host of comments on the comparative value of servants (low) and most nobles she'd met (somehow even lower) as human beings. She needed the money, sad as it was to think. Instead, she nodded, and hoped Owain had the sense to match her.
They both followed the man down ornate hallways and past statues that could have kept the most demanding of mercenaries employed for months, until they entered a small room. The man sat at one end of a table. Owain and Severa took the other.
"Well. Your companion certainly looks the part, madam. I imagine he is quite accomplished in his chosen profession?"
Owain opened his mouth, then closed it. Adjusted his posture.
"THE… err… the … I've learned how to handle myself."
"Excellent. I imagine he is more a man of action than words, madam?"
"I like to think so."
"Ah. Of course. He does cut a respectable figure, at least. I would not know personally, but I imagine that he must have a certain… attraction for you? Women throwing themselves at his feet?"
"No!"
"Are you…? Well. I suppose Ylissean tastes may be different from those in more civilized countries. If I may say so, madam, your country still has a certain… barbaric charm in these parts. Almost like the heroes…"
Severa shot Owain a look, and prayed to Naga that he wouldn't leap for the bait.
He remained silent. Naga remained merciful. Severa couldn't count on either for long.
"Heroes. We know already! Look, we're going to be ducking around words enough as is. Let's just skip the flattery and get to the point. You want the best. We are the best. Now just give the vague hints about what you want us to do and let us do it!"
She paused.
"Also, the gold. Give us the gold too."
The man at the other end of the desk shook his head.
"I'm sure many members of your profession would make identical claims, madam. I do not mean to say I doubt you, but my co-financiers… they will need more in the way of assurance."
He drummed his fingers.
"Perhaps, madam, you could indulge me in a small… game of imagination."
He lifted his hands, as if to ward off protest.
"I admit, it is childish. But children have a certain… purity to their emotions at times. In their joys and their… hatreds. It will aid me in presenting your case."
Severa rolled her eyes. Well, it wasn't the worst thing she had to do for a job.
"Fine."
"Thank you, madam. Imagine, if you are so inclined… you are a mercenary. Just as something to imagine, of course! I make no claims on your past life, nor do I inquire into the details. "
"I'm a mercenary. Got it."
"Perfection. In your travels, you fall into the employ of a… we shall call him a ruffian. A man of questionable repute, well beneath your normal dignity, but you have fallen into dire circumstances. You perform the work he demands, but he betr…"
"I kill him."
"I was… not quite finished, madam."
"I leave his body as a warning for the next person who tries anything funny. Is that enough?"
The potential client coughed.
"...Quite. I suppose I have the measure of your… interpretation... of a mercenary, madam. I admit your commitment to the position may be more intense than I assumed, but I appreciate the candor. May I inquire another scenario of your companion?"
"He doesn't really…"
"I understand, madam. But I do require his measure as well."
"I can tell you what he would do right now."
The client lowered his gaze,
"Perhaps you could, madam. Or perhaps you could wait outside, if you fear his statements will distress you? I would prefer to hear the gentleman's own words, rather than yours delivered in a lower octave."
Severa looked at Owain. She…
She could trust him. She would have to.
"Right. I'll be outside. Let me know if you need anything else."
"Of course, madam."
Severa walked out the door. Closed it. Took a breath.
Then she turned around and shoved her ear to the door. She trusted Owain. Just not that much.
It was hard to make out the details. The man asked questions. Owain answered them. All at a volume too low for Severa to know anything, except that Owain was actually behaving like a reasonable adult human being. Miracles did happen! Severa turned away. She'd pretend she wasn't listening…
"BY THE MERCIFUL MIGHT OF MARTH!"
She'd pretend she hadn't been stupid enough to trust Owain. Severa stepped back into the room.
"Owain! What in the gods…"
Owain was smiling and shaking hands with the client. Severa blinked
"Owain. What is happening?"
The client smiled.
"Ah, madam. I am pleased to announce my backers will be certain to hire your little troupe."
"What?"
"The young man here, such energy! I am sure that the pair of you will draw audiences. He embodies the role."
"Role."
"...I assumed you were here for the production of the life and times of Alm, hero of Valm? Your companion seemed enthusiastic, at minimum."
"And the pay is…"
"Quite adequate, madam. I assumed you were just preparing for more minor roles, but… we can revise a few things to ensure sufficient opportunity for your companion."
"Fine. Just… fine."
Owain was smiling.
"Ha! Even the cruel fates themselves have surrendered to conspire in our favor."
Severa slowly nodded.
This would be her life for the next few months, then. Indulging Owain's latest delusions in front of a huge audience, all of them watching to see her every mistake and mock her every word, without the smallest chance for violent stress relief.
She wouldn't agree with every word Owain has said, but he was right on one count.
The cruel fates were very much involved.
(Author's notes: And here we are, another few weeks and another chapter. As usual, I hope you liked it and thanks for reading.
Just went with a couple shorter ones this time. Figured it might be worth a few words to consider how things would go for a couple of pairings in the years after the games, and here we are. I also thought I was going to go for three stories this time, but the two I was working on both wound up much longer than I expected and the third just didn't work.
Sorry, Cynthia fans. Maybe next time.
As for the individual stories?
The Most Profitable Place on Earth: This one kicked off simply enough. I thought I hadn't written as much Anna as I'd like, and she might play off Gerome well. The fact I hadn't written much about Gerome was a bonus.
Morgan being part of things was not in the initial plan. Somehow, this feels entirely in character for her, and it made Gerome and Anna actually talking to each other flow much more easily. I hope the development worked out, at any rate, but I'm not in the best position to judge.
Men and Women Merely Players: What can I say? It was a little while since I wrote Severa, and I was in the mood to write someone being bitter at everyone. Severa's good for that. I'm less sure about the ending. I like the basic idea, but the execution... I'm sure it could be better, but I'm less sure how I could do that best. C'est la vie, I suppose. At least I got to write more Owain. I have not done nearly enough with him. He's in, what, three stories? Four? That's less than Inigo. If you want to be disappointed in me, that's as good an excuse as any.
So, that's our show this month. If it was to your satisfaction, feel free to applaud and throw money. If it sucked, well, it'd be good to have that clear too. And, just to round things out, if there's anything you'd like to see, feel free to mention it.
Until we meet again, then. Be careful out there. It's a world worth living in, but that doesn't mean it's always pleasant. )
