Author's Notes: Late chapter? What do you mean?

Chapter Three

Prayer

For a city of such girth, Prontera was not big on drinking establishments. It was said that their number was once greater, but the tax on alcohol within the capital's walls drove a great many out of business. King Tristan, it seemed, did not appreciate the vast amounts of crime often associated with large quantities of booze. And so there now stood only a single pub in all of the city, and if you didn't live or work nearby then that was too damn bad.

It was at this very pub, just following the retirement of the sun and its radiance, that Lucia and Ina presided.

"So Ina," Lucia began, leaning inward and still keeping a hold on her frothing mug, "why exactly is it that Tyrus holds you in his company?" The assassin sitting across from her did not meet her gaze, as if reminiscing. Lucia did not much like the woman or her line of work, but had to admit that without the face-covering veil she looked quite pretty. The high cheeks and unblemished face gave her a sort of regal beauty. The fact that her blonde hair was still in a bun did wonders for the nobility effect.

"He never told you, then?" Ina took the slightest sip from her cup, which was notably smaller than the crusader's massive beverage. "You two seemed close. I always assumed he had said something." Her eyes flickered back to Lucia questioningly.

The lavender-haired woman shrugged in reply. "He said you two went back a few years, but I never bothered to ask." Her face wore an exasperated expression. "He was always a funny guy, so at first I didn't want to know what he had done to be acquainted with an assassin."

Ina permitted a dry chuckle for this. "That is fair enough, I suppose." She casually moved the cup in a whirling motion, causing the contents within to slosh around of its own inertia. "If that is all you should be pleased to know that our relation stems from his sister."

Lucia's face adopted a stare of legitimate surprise. "From Saera? I never heard of such a thing." She was more than familiar with the paladin, who stood as a bit of a legend in the eyes of the Church. Transcended tended to do that though. "And to be honest it sounds even more far-fetched. She was probably even more pious than Tyrus."

"It makes sense that you might not know." Ina let the cup rest back on the table. "Saera tended to keep her… less virtuous contacts below the radar, often for the reason you yourself pointed out."

Lucia tilted her head. "And how exactly did someone like you come to know a paladin anyway?"

It was Ina's turn to shrug. "Back when I was still a thief I attempted to rob her."

There was a silence between the two, during which the dull roar of the establishment's other patrons filled the gap between them. Twenty seconds....thirty seconds....fourty....fifty....

The two women burst into laughter. Lucia planted her face into her arms and laughed into the table, while Ina held a more composed giggle and politely held her hand to fingers mouth, somewhat embarrassed.

It took another full minute for the ladies to calm down, their prior resentment of each other gradually returning. Lucia's cheeks still held fast to a bit of flush though.

"So let me get this straight...." The crusader's first words after recovering. "You....a thief...tried to mug Saera?" Traces of Ina's smile remained.

"It was most unfortunate but yes. Even with four of my most reliable guildmates we were soundly beaten." She gripped the cup again, and before raising it to her lips, added: "Thankfully she was not the sort of woman to hold a grudge."

Lucia nodded almost dreamily, tugging a lock of lavender hair back behind an ear. "Yeah….She was strong in more ways than one. It's too bad about...."

Anyone observing the two would feel the icy pall that had been draped over them. Saera had been powerful indeed, but there was little anyone could do when your enemy was Baphomet.

This painfully different silence lingered about, with both Lucia and Ina sampling their respective beverages. The barrier they had smashed down was erected once more. Ultimately, however, it was the assassin who offered her voice.

"You really intend to seek Melchior then?"

Lucia was silent, her gaze directed to the folks at the bar. The mug hung limply in her hand, like some neglected lantern. "It looks like that will be our mission." Her words were flat, humorless. Ina closed her eyes solemnly.

"It is a good thing you have Tyrus then," she stated. "You will need all of the prayer you can muster."

Silence held dominion once more.

The streets of Prontera were dead-silent. At least, such was the case in this particular portion of it. Tyrus found that the closer to the castle you got, the less people seemed to have business in the later hours. Everything from the square down was bound to be active, but nobody strayed here. The party was away from the government, where city officials were less likely to slam them with a fine of some sort. It also probably helped that the local jail, was found here as well. Tyrus knew this very well, as that was where he was headed.

Marching up the steps, the priest opened the old wooden door with a violent creak. Just inside was a small-ish room presenting two more doors, a well maintained lantern suspended from the ceiling, and a man seated behind an oaken desk. It was to this individual that Tyrus gave his pleasant smile.

"Pardon me, but I am here to pick someone up."

The man, with a look of mixed surprise and boredom, looked the priest up and down. "You are? I suppose you will be paying off any fines they have as well?"

He only nodded gently. "Yes, that is acceptable."

Somewhat curious, the man adjusted his chair and opened one of the books at his desk. "Very well then," he continued. "Can I have the individual's name please?"

"...but you should have seen the other guy! Sure, that sword looks big, but that doesn't mean jack if he can't swing it!"

Tyrus only smiled awkwardly at the young man talking. "Yes, well, if you aren't in two pieces I suppose that means you won." He felt he should be scolding the kid, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

Trotting alongside him was a teen, maybe 14 years old at best, with neck-length brown hair and muscles on his arms and legs that seemed almost too well defined for someone his age. He wore the dobok of a taekwon boy, lending some justification to this. It was his eyes, however, that seemed to shine with a sort of fire. At least that was how Tyrus' very un-poetic mind described it. Perhaps someone else could do a better job.

And besides, his mouth was even greater still.

"Psh, you're damn right I'm alive!" Garret continued. "Big guys with bigger weapons are no match for my superior Heel Drop! And if that doesn't work...." His bare foot launched itself into the air for punctuation. "The Roundhouse!"

Tyrus smiled encouragingly. "You have developed finely since your novice days! I suppose you wish to become a taekwon master at this point?"

Garret brought his leg down, swapping it out for a clenched fist that seemed to say "bring it on!" His fiery grin did nothing to alter the impression. "Hell yeah! I'm gonna stomp every bastard who gets in my way flat!"

"Your ambition is wonderful as always!" He tilted his head. "Are you sure you aren't forgetting something though?"

Garret's grin gave way for a perplexed stare. "Forgetting? Like what?"

The priest looked to the horizon, stroking his chin as if pondering something at the back of his mind. "Well, it isn't too important, but I heard that Alysa caught wind of your brawl. I wonder if she cares too much about you spending time in a jail cell…?"

Garret's metamorphosis upon having the acolyte's name brought to light was without flaw; a perfect transition from comprehension, to realization, to worry, to outright terror. "W-W-Wait! Alysa knows?"

Tyrus continued staring off absently, doing his best not to laugh. "Oh yes, very much so. She was quite disappointed. A bit fumy as well." He went from stroking his chin to tapping it. "I wonder how she will greet you now that you are a free man again....?"

Garret seemed to flail about, cowering under his arms as he seemed to scan the area for a would-be attacker. "Crapcrapcrapcrap! She's gonna kill me!" His feet now began to work in what seemed to be a flustered dance. Again, Tyrus had to struggle not to laugh. "Gah! Why did it have to be like this! I'm too young to die!"

Tyrus returned his gaze to the panicked taekwon boy. "Well," he offered hopefully, "perhaps if you get her something nice before you see her again you could skid by with an apology?" The boy practically flung himself at Tyrus with an agility that surprised them both.

"Great idea! That's a great idea!" He flailed is arms about again. "Quickly, we need to find some place to get flowers! And chocolates! And diamonds! Fifty-pound diamonds!"

Tyrus did laugh a little at this. "Diamonds might be a bit extreme. I do know a few places to shop around for ideas though!"

And so the two headed down the street. A flustered Garret with his spastic limbs and pleading voice, and a cheerful Tyrus pondering the future.