The following month was an odd one. Sparrow and Reaver got along much easier than expected. Sparrow didn't hate his company. In fact, she almost enjoyed having the pirate around. Sure he was still...Reaver, but he wasn't that terrible. While Sparrow had only meant to stay with him for a few days, she found herself practically living with him. After four weeks of staying there, though, she knew she had to get out of Old Town for a little bit, and earn some gold. As she got ready for the day, she packed a bag to take with her to the Market Square. When she was fully ready, Sparrow walked down the stairs, and found Reaver already awake.
"Good morning, Reaver." She greeted him, walking to the door and picking up her boots.
"Good morning," He looked up, "Where are you going?"
"Into the Marketplace, figured I need a job so I might as well go help out at the blacksmith's again." She replied, lacing up her boots, "I'm sure Michael could use the help some way or another."
"Ah, a trip to the market. I might as well come along, get out of this house for a bit." Reaver said, standing up.
"Well, I'll be gone all day. Don't feel like you have to wait up for me if you wanna come back here for a bit." Sparrow said, waiting for him at the door.
"Oh, I'll find something to do, don't you worry. Plenty of people to entertain, or shops to occupy."
"Isn't that what you said about Samarkand, before you left after 3 days?" Sparrow laughed.
"Yes, but I hadn't been there before. I've been to the Market." Reaver retorted.
"Sure, buddy. I'll let you believe that one." She teased, "Come on, I'd like to get to the shop before opening hour."
Leaving the house, they started the hour long walk to Bowerstone Market. Twenty minutes in, Reaver was already bored.
"I know I've never really cared for the way magic works...but couldn't you just make us appear in the square? Why are we wasting this time?" Reaver asked. Sparrow rolled her eyes.
"First of all, its not just 'magic', its will, and the market is only an hour away. While I could speed up the trip, is there really a point in spending it on such a short walk? Besides, its a beautiful day." Sparrow said, amused at his childlike impatience.
For the rest of the walk, they continued on in silence. Sparrow was observing the scenery along the path, and Reaver was too occupied in his thoughts. Soon enough, they were approaching the main street.
"Alright, the shops should open in about an hour, and I usually like to stay until about an hour after nightfall. Again, don't hesitate to go back home if you get bored, or something." Sparrow told Reaver as the entered the Market.
"I might as well wait for you, meet me in the tavern when you're done there." Reaver said.
The two part ways, and Sparrow headed for the blacksmith's. Hearing the familiar tap of the hammer, she approached Michael.
"Hello, Michael!" Sparrow greeted him.
"Sparrow! What are you doing here? I thought you had left Bowerstone!" Michael turned around, surprised to see the hero.
"I've just been in Old Town for a little bit. Figured I might as well come back here and make some gold while I'm at it." She shrugged.
"Well, I've got plenty of work for you" He smiled at her.
As Sparrow spent the day hard at work, Reaver wandered the town. He had been to the square before, but it was only in passing. He hadn't really paid attention to the people, or the shops around. Standing near the clock tower, he stared at Sparrow's house. She confused him. The girl claimed to have been married, spent ten years in the Spire, and had a child. She also claimed to have been chasing Lucifer for over two decades. If that were true...why did she appear to be no older than 21 years old when they met?
Did she strike the same deal with the shadow court? He wondered
Reaver stared towards the blacksmith stall, observing Sparrow. She was unaware of him as she worked. If she really had struck a deal though, Old Town would have been destroyed, like Oakvale. Something in that house must have some sort of clue. Curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself approaching Sparrow.
"Reaver, do you need something?" She asked, as she moved crates around the shop.
"Well I was perusing the square, when I realized no one has checked on your home in quite some time. I figured I would ask your permission to go ensure that everything was still...secure." He told her.
"Oh, alright. Thank you Reaver." She was surprised by his offer, but accepted it. Pulling out the key, she handed it to him, "I guess I'll have to go back eventually, and clean it anyway."
Reaver smiled at her, and took the key. He couldn't believe she trusted him so easily. He turned around, and headed for her house.
Inside the house, Reaver examined the bookshelves, portraits, anything to give him some sort of hint into what secret Sparrow was hiding from him. Opening all of the drawers, he found nothing. Moving upstairs, he tore apart what was left of the broken furniture. If she asked him about it, he could just tell her some squatter must have broken into the house. Frustrated in his findings, he kicked a piece of wood out of his way. At the same time, one of the floorboards moved.
That board is loose he thought.
Leaning down, he pulled on it, and the board came right up. Inside was a small journal, and a knife.
"Haha! I knew you were hiding something, you clever girl." He said as he picked it up. Flipping through the pages, it became apparent that this journal belonged to Sparrow. He found the only chair that wasn't broken, and sat down. Starting from the beginning, he began reading.
Entry 1.
A decade of enslavement to the tattered spire, and last week I finally escaped, with Garth. Albion has changed very much over the years, especially the development of Westcliff. Barnum somehow managed to invest that money and turn the town into a profitable place. When I returned, I was shocked to see it. Theresa greeted me at the dock, along with Bear. My good boy waited all this time for me. As Theresa brought Garth to the Spire, I couldn't get home fast enough. I hadn't seen Bryn in ten years, and I couldn't wait to see him. When I entered our home, we cried together, because it was over.
I didn't realize how many 'normal' things I missed when I was away from the world. Hearing the call of the town crier, the smell of the cow and corset's bakery, and weirdly enough, hair. Spire Guards were required to keep their hair short, so the commandants shaved it every week. The anxiety of letting it grow has kept me up at night, but I have to remember I've been freed from that place. Though, the rhythmic drum of the spire still connects me to it. I can still sense the pulsating of the spire's heart. I wonder when I can disconnect. I wonder if I will ever be able to forget the beat.
Entry 2
It has been two months since the escape, and I still feel the hum of the spire. It's calmed now, but when things get too quiet, its the only thing I can hear. I find myself surrounded by noise to drown it out. Bryn thinks I've lost my mind, but I don't know how to explain it to him. He would never understand the unchanging connection I share with the Spire, and neither would any other normal person.
My search for Lucien has turned towards the third hero. The hero of skill. Hammer has worked tirelessly for years trying to find information on anyone who might have the slightest clue where this hero could be. She's been searching Taverns, interrogating informants, and nothing valuable has turned up. We need to find them soon, seeing that Lucien is becoming more and more powerful. I fear that if we cannot perform the ritual soon, Lucien may be successful in his efforts to obtain godlike power. This world could be wiped out, and my sister's vengeance may never come.
I have to believe that we will win. I cannot sit back and watch as the Spire grows more powerful. Rose must be avenged, and I swear to Avo I will be successful. Lucien will die by my hand, and that's final.
Reaver kept flipping through the pages, trying to find anything that would reveal her secrets. So far the only thing he's learned is that once you are in the Spire, the spire becomes connected to you, in a way that cannot be severed. Skipping through, he found an entry from one of her birthdays.
Entry 8
Today is my birthday. I am 28 years old...or so I think. The spire ruined my sense of time, and Bryn is the only one who remembered my age. He was the one to remind me of the date, as well. The last month I had been experiencing more fatigue, and getting sick at the mere smell of food. I visited a healer this morning, and discovered I'm with child. Bryn became excited, and wanted to celebrate. I cannot bring myself to be excited for this child.
I have always wanted to children of my own, but I didn't want to start a family while Lucien was still in power. The madman kills children who may get in his way, and having my own child would be dangerous. I also will be forced to take time off from hero work, which will put a pause in my quest to find Lucien. His defeat will be delayed by nearly a year. A year I don't know if we have.
Not only am I concerned about the delay in plans, but I'm concerned about motherhood. I don't even remember my own mother, and Theresa was more like a caretaker to me than anything. What if I can't do it? I wonder if it would be better to place this child into an orphanage, and allow a more capable family to adopt them. This would also keep their existence anonymous to Lucien, and may remove the child from danger. I couldn't take this child away from Bryn, though. He's always wanted a family, as an orphan himself. He would never allow our child to grow up without their parents. I will have to find a way to protect this child, at all costs.
Reaver sat and read through the journal for hours, trying to learn everything about The Little Sparrow. He learned her child was born within a year after she escaped Spire, Hammer was the child's godmother, and she was named after Sparrow's older sister. He also learned that Sparrow's husband was a patient, but very stubborn man. Reaver had no doubts this man loved her, but he refused to understand the seriousness of her destiny. The journal also told him exactly how the heroes had found him. An old crew mate of his spilled everything to Hammer in a bar, while in a drunken haze. He was in the middle of reading one of her adventures when the door opened and placed a hand on his weapon.
"Reaver? I finished up at the blacksmith!"
It was Sparrow. Relaxing, he stood back up. Her footsteps got closer and he realized she was about to come up the stairs. Hastily hiding the journal in his pocket, and pushing the floorboard back in place, he met her on the stairs.
"Ah! Everything checks out here, nothing out of the ordinary. Say, why don't we head to the tavern for a drink?" Reaver said, as he placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her back down the stairs.
"Alright, that sounds good," She eyed him suspiciously, "Reaver, are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm great! House is secure. Now lets get to that tavern." He closed the door behind them.
When they reached the Cow and Corset, Reaver claimed a table and ordered two pints for them.
"Are you sure you're okay? You're acting awfully strange." Sparrow said, watching as he examined the glass.
"For the last time, Dear, I am fine." He replied, setting the glass down.
Sparrow watched him for a moment, then leaned back in the chair. Sighing, she closed her eyes. A month had passed since she'd entered her house, and it felt wrong. She couldn't quite place the feeling, other than the fact that it wasn't home anymore. Sparrow had felt like she was trespassing, on her own property.
"Sparrow?" Reaver called her name softly, and she took a deep breath.
"Alright, well I'm going to go get some air. Be right back." Sparrow stood up and walked outside.
Walking over to a bench, she sat down. Something felt wrong, and she realized someone was watching her. Scanning the area, she realized there were two assassins and a highwayman perched on top of the clock tower. She knew at some point one of the heroes, or both, would end up with a bounty on her head. Pretending she didn't see them, she headed inside to warn Reaver. The attackers wouldn't dare make a move before the patrons of the bar either fell to far into a sleepy haze of drunkenness, or dispersed to their own homes. This way, there would be less witnesses.
"We have a problem." She whispered to Reaver, sitting back down.