Sendoffs are living summaries of someone's biography, Primrose thought to herself – or maybe just one chapter depending on how long the book is. Either way, it showcases the impact of your presence and the dancer was stuck comparing Olberic's to her own sendoff from Sunshade.
Comparing an entire town showing up with cheers, tears and love to a ponce demanding fellatio, his gang of thugs, a dead slave and a whole lot of other bloody corpses when all was said and done was haunting.
Sadly, she knew more people would want to read the Siren of Sunshade than the Hero or maybe Hunk, depending on the target audience of the Highlands. They would make the cover art wholesome like a painting of her in a modest dress releasing a dove over the ocean – just to give readers some false appearance of modesty. Primrose felt that Olberic's book would be a lot more interesting. The tales of heroes were always more captivating; she didn't know what her tale was, but it certainly was not that of a hero.
Of course, this was all speculation as Stonegard had yet to produce a biography.
Olberic wasn't thinking of such things as he wasn't much of a reader. He was no fool, but enjoying a book never got things done and he was a doer, so the warrior was much more interested in contemplating the real world as they took the stone steps out of Cobblestone.
"We should discuss what happened in the cave." The shower of affection from all his friends obviously didn't shake his resolve.
Primrose correctly assumed that her companion had wanted to have this conversation right away but didn't feel it was appropriate around sweet little Philip. She calmly referred to the cold regard for humanity that she displayed in their battle, "Maybe you're thinking I'm not quite a knight after all."
"I'll admit, your methods in combat were...impolite."
Such a timid response had Primrose wondering if this was finally an instance of noble chauvinism, unaware that nothing the warrior had ever done or will ever do was a result of anything but honour, respect or awkwardness.
While scraping the blood from her dagger as casually and diligently as one would with parsley in their teeth, Primrose responded, "I was outnumbered." There was little doubt in her mind that she could have handled the fight with her normal grace, but a little goes a long way. "Perhaps I didn't need to desecrate a corpse and torture a few souls, but my living is too important to take risks."
Apt phrasing from someone who had spent eight years as a slave rather than risk finding an alternative. Living, after all, was far too important. Primrose felt she had become worthless, but nothing was worth as much as her life.
"I suppose the ends can sometimes justify the means."
Apt phrasing from someone who had slaughtered a lot of people.
"Regardless, your skills in battle are undeniable." There was no doubt in Olberic's mind that what he was considering asking was a bad idea but he knew he was right about the ends. "You and I are both armies of one, Primrose but my life has shown me that a one man army can still lose to a 1000 man army."
"If this is a marriage proposal, I'm afraid I'm not interested." Primrose said this knowing any man in the world would easily pick up on the sarcasm, but it occurred to her, too late, that Olberic wasn't any man and she didn't need to see his red grimace to know it.
As flexible as the dancer was, she had never known the ability to stick in her foot in her mouth until now.
"Ignore the humour, Olberic. It would be my pleasure to travel with you."
The pair followed a sign leading them to a detour. Olberic questioned the merit of stopping in Rippletide, but Primrose insisted she needed a bath, citing that she needed to wash off the stink of battle. The young woman decided not to mention she also needed to wash off the stink of general stink just as Olberic chose not to mention that he was aware of it.
Primrose also reluctantly conceded that she, 'needed new clothes,' explaining that she 'didn't want to freeze, nor did she want people to get the wrong idea of their relationship. Olberic didn't question this despite not knowing what the wrong idea was. He wasn't even entirely sure what the right idea was.
One thing he did know, as Primrose excused herself to run her errands, was that he finally had a moment to stop and enjoy himself which, as far as he could remember, had never happened before. The town of Rippletide did little for him. As small as it was, it had a big city energy to it. Outdoor shops lined the streets which meant enthusiastic peddlers and excited shoppers.
It was all quite loud. Olberic never cared for loud, but as he squeezed his way through the main street, the warrior arrived at the docks. The ocean appealed to him more than any luxury or vice. He had loved swimming as a boy, but it was more than that. Endless possibilities, ships big and small that controlled the world, all held together by powerful waves and highlighted by an irresistible scent.
The combination of raw power and subtle beauty reminded him of glorious Hornburg. For as long as time permitted, Olberic stood ( men like him weren't allowed to sit while they enjoyed things) and he stared out into the water until his serenity lost out to the chaos and sadness of more pressing matters.
It was then he realized he also likely stank of stink.
Olberic and Primrose found each other fresh from the bathhouse, the former staring in bewilderment. Primrose stared back but at least she remembered how to blink.
He finally asked cautiously, "that's what you've decided to wear?" The warrior couldn't make sense of long blue dress with fingerless black gloves. It was by no means skin tight, but there was distinctly not enough room to wear armour underneath it.
Primrose objected to the objection. She was out to avenger her father, not find a new one. "Is there a problem?"
"Your other clothes at least provided mobility." It was the most polite way anyone had told her she dressed too scandalously. "How could anyone fight in this attire?"
"Slits," Primrose responded excitedly as she showed off the cut fabric on her legs. "I had it customized. We thought of everything."
"Did you account for someone plunging a sword through you?"
Primrose feigned a ponder before stating the obvious. "I just won't let that happen," which was an unknowing lie.
"And the..." Prolonged silence followed. "The hat?" He said gesturing toward the tiara holding up tiny angel feathers above both ears.
"It came free with the dress."
"A valid enough reason to have it, but why are you wearing it?" Olberic couldn't think of any good reason to wear something so impractical and gaudy. An accessory that would only serve to grab people's attention but he assumed Primrose had an excuse he could accept.
She did not.
"I think it's pretty," the dancer spoke with enough confidence that the warrior assumed she was silently adding, 'which I know isn't important but they were out of hats that could be used for defence or possibly to conceal weapons' as the completely shallow response made no sense to him.
Olberic didn't have time to avert his eyes with discomfort before a big city kind of commotion erupted on the other end of the small town and both adventurers shrugged in agreement to investigate.
Broken boxes, glass and unconscious men were strewn about with their bloodied faces towards the sky. The scene near the docks had all the makings of a tavern brawl - only lacking in the distinct smell of ale. There were no loud growling either, though one girl was shouting with the tactlessness and fervour of ten drunkards.
"No good selfish cowardly pirates!" The girl was throwing a tantrum like a drunkard too, stomping on broken boxes, kicking their ashes. "Threatening me is one thing!" She continued yelling at no one. "But stealing from innocent people!? I'm going to give them a peace of my mind!"
Primrose turned to Olberic with a tired expression. "Do you suppose every town I stop in is going to have criminals threatening children?"
"It's an unpleasant world," he responded, proud of his philosophical side. "Perhaps we should look into this further." Primrose using dark magic may have been impolite but leaving a child in danger was downright rude and they both knew it.
"Young one." The angry girl froze in place. Primrose didn't need evidence to know that Olberic's voice had that effect on people. "Tell us what happened here."
"What happened!?" The young girl stomped towards the travelling pair. She was clearly the type that hated people seeing her cry, but she was so furious that she wasn't keeping it in check. "I'll tell you what happened!"
Olberic would have preferred an explanation that was no more than a sentence; Primrose would have settled for two or three. Instead, the group stood in the street for twenty minutes, listening to a grand tale of marauders, violence and fear; Olberic had to admit to himself that it would almost make for a book worth reading.
"I suspect," Olberic finally said as the girl who hadn't introduced herself in all that time seemed to run out of breath. "That there is some kind of local militia. My comrade and I would lend ourselves to your aid."
The girl chuckled. "Militia? I'm the only one in this town that even knows how to fight." When Primrose failed to hide a snort, the young girl drew a spear from her back and, with a powerful and adorable growl, jabbed it in her direction.
"Let's all calm ourselves," Olberic said calmly as he even more calmly pushed the spear away. "What's your name, lass?"
"Tressa, the greatest stock girl and merchant this town has ever known!"
Olberic didn't usually care for people that spoke with so many exclamation marks in their dialogue, but he appreciated the girl's spirit. "Very well, Tressa. With no allies, how were you planning on winning a fight with a gang of pirates?"
Tressa snickered as she pointed to the tavern. "They're filling up a cask with wine right now. After I add my special ingredient, I'll bring it to them as a peace offering." The young merchant was so proud of her plan that she didn't notice Olberic's grunt of disapproval. "Then bam! Lights out for those dirty dogs."
"Poison," Olberic said scathingly, "is no way to win a fight. There is no honour."
"Honour shmonour! You want to talk about real honour!?"
He always did.
"I swear on my honour as a merchant that I'm getting these people their stuff back and even I can't fight all those guys."
"Perhaps we could-"
"Olberic," Primrose cut the brooding warrior off with disapproval of her own. "It's a good plan. We don't know how many of these brutes there are. Even the two of us might not be able to handle it"
"Three of us!"
"More importantly, this is her town." She flashed Tressa a 'I'm on your side so shut up' smile. "It's her choice to defend it as she sees fit." Primrose knew Olberic's true nature could never disagree with that logic and with his trademark nod he said, "We should still accompany her on the journey."
The plot was hatched. Olberic and Primrose waited just out of sight and they both agreed Tressa was at least a worthy thespian. She really made it sound like a plea for forgiveness than a murder plot. 'The innocent aura of youth,' they both thought.
Tressa told them it would take a bit of time for her special ingredient to take effect, so she decided to talk and since Olberic and Primrose knew she'd keep talking even if they stayed silent, the two joined her.
"I have to say, Tressa, I am impressed," Primrose said earnestly. "Morals aside, this is a cleaver plan for such a young girl.
The merchant scowled. "How old do you think I am?"
Primrose stopped to consider all the variables of the small girl's frame and her childlike excitement. "Thirteen?" Sensing the angry heat coming from the Tressa, she corrected herself "Perhaps fourteen?" Olberic interjected before Tressa could respond.
"Nonsense. The girl is sharp enough that she's had ample time to hone her mind. She's clearly a year past your guess, if not two."
"You two are the worst!" Even her whispers had exclamation marks.
Primrose took exception to being in a dark cave for the second time in as many days. She could still smell the musk from the last one. Olberic didn't care. Caves masked the smell of blood while echoing the sounds of victory and at the end of the day, a battlefield was a battlefield.
It didn't take long for them to come across the first body. Primrose knelt down to inspect the chubby corpse, but when she did, she let out a quiet groan, turned and whispered. "I have good news, Olberic. The poison didn't work. It just knocked him out. He's only asleep."
"A well laid plan, Tressa." Olberic's joy – or his version of joy at least – was evident. "But it seems it has not succeeded."
"What are you talking about?" Tressa was loud and confused. "This is what sleepweed does. That's why they call it sleepweed."
Suddenly exhausted, Primrose rose to her feet, looking down at the shorter girl. "This was your plan? To knock them out and take your stuff back?"
"Uhh, yeah. Did you think I was going to murder a bunch of people?"
Tressa was clearly in over her head, though that wasn't hard. The less naive two of the trio knew they were going to need to clean up this mess. "And what would you do once they woke up and realized what had happened?"
Tressa rolled her eyes which made Primrose seriously doubt the girl was any older than her guess of fourteen. "There'd be nothing left to do. These brutes will learn their lesson and leave my town alone!" A sound almost like snickering came from the entrance and since all the pirates were asleep, it was as if the cave itself was mocking Tressa.
"I think you need to go back home," Primrose said sternly.
"But-"
Olberic slid himself next to his partner so he too could look down at the new kid. "It's good advice, little one. Men like these know no honour or humility. The only way they will leave you be is if they are behind bars or buried in the ground. As your town has no jail..."
"What you two don't seem to get is that anyone can be convinced by the right sales pitch." The merchant's tenacity didn't waiver in the face of condescending words. "And no one makes a pitch like me!"
"Whether you two like it or not, Rippletide is my home and I'll defend it on my terms!" Her fragile form pushed through Olberic and Primrose easily as if she were an engine powered by pep. "You can either help me or get out of my way."
Turning to Primrose, Olberic said, "You did say, if I recall, that the girl did have the right to defend her own town."
Annoyed at everything around her, the dancer said, "Yes, but when I said that, it was only to tease you." The stoic man said nothing to the jab. "Still, I suppose the words were true."
Fraught with worry, and not showing it Olberic said, "the girl is too brave for her own good. Our priority is her safety."
"I agree, but we may want to hurry. She started running as soon as you turned your back."
