Good evening, morning or afternoon. PiquedIsh here with the second chapter to 'Obsession without Care,' this one I plan to have less combat and more to focus a little on the aftermath of Summer's death as well as the acclimation of Riachtanas to Remnant.
Besides that I also wanted to address what my hopes and plans for this Fic are. Firstly I'd like to get a rough schedule for uploading ready. Since this is only the second chapter and the story has just started I have still got quite a bit of innovation for the story in me. As time goes on I would like to get a rough upload schedule of chapters around 5000 words minimum uploaded twice a month up and running. Twice a month because it would lend me time to write to the standard I set for myself, as well as to help avoid burnout by shelling out chapter after chapter so soon.
Secondly I'd like to build a good fan base amongst you all so that if I do decide to start another story (in the future of course, not now) then I will have a good sized audience ready to read, review, politely criticise, and so on. Anyways, besides that, I hope you enjoy the story. Feel free to review and politely critique.
[Line Break]
Riachtanas had quite forgotten that Torrent was still with him. Within the tower, he had no use for the horse, and so Torrent had been ignored.
The Spectral Steed had been situated into whatever space that resided in Melina's gift for what he could only assume was a prolonged period of time. And hadn't taken it so well. Torrent was, by his very nature, a creature of freedom. Like any other equine creature, Torrent was a strider, built to sprint and gallop over long stretches of land. He wasn't meant to be trapped within a whistling ring inside Riachtanas' pocket.
Torrent seemed to hold a grudge over the fact.
After travelling some 100 metres away from the defeated Qrow, Riachtanas had picked up on the horned beast's mood. Torrent was mad, and had seemed content to stay as such for the next 4 hours. He reared his head angrily and gave a dissatisfied huff at every direction Riachtanas gave him. Disconcerting, but not surprising.
"Torrent, old friend. I have ignored thee for far too long, haven't I? I'm sorry, for never calling on thee, or giving thee due freedom. If thou shall give me a chance, may I earn your clemency?" Riachtanas whispered, leaning forward with his mouth to Torrent's ear. Torrent snorted, and shook his mane. He doubted that meant forgiveness. However, Riachtanas decided not to push.
A part of him was saddened that his old friend was unwilling to parlay with him. But forcing the issue would only widen the gap between them.
Straightening, Riachtanas observed his surroundings, a thick forest, its branches wide enough and long enough to block out the light above, leaving the duo of Man and Beast in shadow. Familiar with the environment, his eyes roamed over the horizon. Enemies could be hiding in any crevice. And call Riachtanas paranoid, but paranoia was one of the reasons why he made it as far as he had. Every sound was suspect, a snap of twigs could, indeed, be some insignificant, forest critter. But it could very well be a twig snapping under the armoured boot of a bandit or soldier, hidden, weapon in hand. He'd rather not find out the difference in a way that involves a piece of steel insulting his body with its presence.
Ahead of him, the ground seemed to slowly rise into a low hill, the trees thinning enough that the sun peeked through, its rays finally touching the forest floor. Tightening his grip on the Carian Knights Sword, Riachtanas crested over the hill.
From where he had advanced, the hill had indeed appeared shallow. But on the other side the hill became far more steep, the trees thinning considerably to the point that the ground below could be considered a grassland that stretched for a considerable distance. Reaching into his satchel, Riachtanas pulled out his telescope, and brought it to his eye.
The grassland was of a rough ovular shape, with a grouping of hills in varying height to the west, whereas to the east was what appeared to be a lake, most probably a freshwater lake. It appeared landlocked from where Riachtanas sat, and he had not seen any signs of the ocean as of yet. What caught his interest however, was a small quasi-town, with a wooden wall of felled trees forming around all sides, apart from where the lake faces the settlement, in which case the village formed a sizable dock.
Inhabited villages were rare in the Lands Between, but they were far from impossible. But as far as he could remember, said villages were broken vestiges of what they once were, with the residents being best described as 'hostile.'
Something, most likely instinct sharpened by experience, told him that this village would be rather different.
Leaning forward, Riachtanas' eye roamed over the village, and made note of the busy street and open gate. An abandoned village, it was not.
"How long has it been, since I've resided in a town of the living sort, I wonder?" Pursing his lips at the thought, Riachtanas stashed the telescope back to its spot in his satchel, and spurred Torrent forward. The soft, steady sound of Torrent's hooves against the grassy ground filled his ears. The valley around him was a beautiful shade of green, and Riachtanas found himself listening to an echo of an echo, a trace of a memory squirming in the back of his mind. What that memory was, he could not find a way to remember. Every time he tried, the feeling escaped his grasp.
Sighing to himself, he pulled Torrent to a stop, the steed huffing in displeasure.
Slowly turning his head right and the left, Riachtanas gazed at the idyllic scene with lost eyes. The Lands Between did not have valleys like this. Even grounds of green grass and verdant pastures were marred by patrols of soldiers with ill minds, whilst beasts of terrible make haunted the forests.
Rune Bears came to mind. Riachtanas hated Rune Bears.
"What should I do, Torrent? Should I approach this scene of civility, of humanity? Or do I no longer belong in such a place?" He murmured, voice hushed, and low. Torrent gave no verbal answer, merely flicking his ears back disinterestedly. Or perhaps that was answer enough.
Sighing to himself, Riachtanas spurred Torrent on, towards the village by the lake. Perhaps there he could ascertain the status of this world in a more thorough manner.
[Line Break]
Vale the City stood as a stalwart giant within Vale the Kingdom's deep forests. The Four Kingdoms, by their very nature, offered little mercy to the human or Faunus settlements across Remnant. Even Vale, a landmass of temperate greenery, could be a hazardous environment for anyone unprepared. Its beauty almost acted as a front for the dangers within, only dropping when one came face to face with some of Vale's most dangerous Grimm.
It's why Beacon and its staff, with Headmaster Ozpin at the helm, continued to keep training the future generations of Huntsman to the best of their ability. That, and to combat a threat that was only spoken about among the closest of compatriots behind closed, locked and barricaded doors.
Ozpin believed that any Huntsman worth their salt should have a healthy dose of paranoia. Sometimes it's what keeps you breathing. He may not have much reason to worry about that, but every one of his subordinates certainly did.
It's why he always took great interest in the events that transpire around Remnant. Even the smallest thing can be related to Her.
"Autopsy reports show that Summer's death was a result of severe blood loss due to a wound on her left side. The Doctor and Assistant both concur that the damage was caused by a claw or claw-like implement. The item in question had caused severe internal damage as well as external. Even if she hadn't bled out, the damage to her organs would have caused her demise, regardless." His deputy closed the manila folder, and placed it on his desk with a sigh. At this moment, the young woman looked almost as old as he felt.
"So the cause of death being Grimm is the most likely scenario, then. Was there anything peculiar or out of the ordinary that we need to be aware of?"
"No sir. Summer was clean of any poisons or toxins, with no signs of man-made injuries to her person either," Glynda explained, adjusting her glasses with one hand.
Sighing to himself, Ozpin leaned back and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. Qrow's testimony may paint a plausible picture of foul play involving the red cloaked man, Riachtanas, and Summer dying. However, physical evidence seemed to contradict such, showing that the more mundane, yet no less terrible scenario was Grimm, rather than human interference. But he had a strong feeling that Qrow may not be so open minded to the idea.
Not that Ozpin could blame the man.
"Has Qrow landed in Patch as of yet?" He queried.
"From what he has told me, not as of yet. I thought he would be, considering the relatively short flight, but perhaps he took a detour to collect himself," She theorised, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. The idea had merit, telling a person that their loved one has perished was always difficult, even for Ozpin. The truth doubly so for when all persons involved were related in some way.
Giving a curt nod, Ozpin politely yet firmly dismissed his deputy, her heels leaving a resounding echo with each step as she left.
Now alone, the Headmaster bowed his head and sighed, feeling his already grey hair somehow grey even further.
To lose not just a talented Huntress, and close friend, but to lose a Silver Eyed warrior was a hard blow. The war against Her had become even more troublesome, it seemed. There may be the chance that Summer's biological child had inherited the Silver Eyes, and that she'd grow to follow her mothers foot footsteps to become a Huntsman. If that happened then he'd gladly offer her a chair in his own metaphorical council, where she could be well trained and given support.
But it wasn't a certainty, and much as he may consider the idea, Ozpin did not wish to somehow plant the idea into her head. He could admit to being cold at times, but he'd not be cruel unnecessarily.
He left that to Salem and her minions.
[Line Break]
The Rose/Xiao-Long residence was a comfy, two storey cabin situated neatly against the edges of a thick woods, with thick wooden walls and sloping roof offering a charming visage not dissimilar to a woodland cottage. On the front porch a plethora of potted flowers stood vibrant, ready to greet whosoever would be approaching the household.
The comfy atmosphere was absent today. In the doorway were two dishevelled men, one with a haunted look and the other with a drunken, yet no less troubled look. Qrow leant and swayed to one side, his hand pressed against the doorway to stabilise himself. In front of him was Tai, his Ex-Brother In Law. The man who had married Summer.
The conversation they just had was painful, especially since it had the presence of two young girls, both under 10.
The blond haired man bid Qrow farewell with a rough voice, closing the door behind him, leaving the drunken man to shuffle his way away.
Tai brought his wet, blue eyes up to the stairs that led up to the second floor. No doubt, Yang and Ruby both were hidden in one or the other room, crying their eyes out. He wanted to join them. It was strange, but a quiet, saddened part of him was wondering what would happen to the flowers on his front porch. Summer had loved those flowers, and grew them herself. He didn't have a green thumb like she did, so more than likely they would wilt and die. That would be such a shame. Summer loved those flowers.
The Rose/Xiao-Long patriarch moved his way upstairs, his heavy combat boots making a dull 'thud' sound with each step. He didn't quite know what to say to either of his girls, he just hoped it would help in some way.
Knocking on Yang's door yielded nothing but silence. Knocking on Ruby's didn't do much either, but he was certain that he heard a couple of small bodies wrap themselves in blankets or some such. Opening the door -the poor dears forgot to lock it- Tai saw both girls huddled under Ruby's blanket, with only their hair poking out from beneath the material.
Kneeling next to the two children, Tai laid an arm over the mass.
Neither of them reacted much, preferring to remain under their blanket shield.
"Girls? Sweethearts, I know you're sad. And I'm so sorry. I wish I could make you feel better, but I don't really know how. Can you come out from under the blanket please?" He whispered, head held low and near the bundled girls.
Ruby was first to leave the blankets, her silver eyes red around the edges, and hair muddled. Whimpering, she opened her arms for her father to pick her up, little sons escaping her.
Taking his youngest in his arms, Tai waited for Yang to follow her sister's lead. Thankfully he didn't have to wait for too long, as soon he saw Yang's sunshine coloured hair rise until she too was uncovered, her own lilac eyes wet, and her nose runny.
Tai grabbed his beloved daughters and hugged them close. Both of them hugged back and sobbed into his chest.
[Line Break]
The village guards had taken interest in Torrent, apparently confused that horses could indeed grow bull-like horns. Riachtanas waited there as they spoke, sat atop said horse with a disinterested look on his face. They two guards -he didn't get their names and wasn't curious enough to ask for them- bickered back and forth on whether or not a creature which typically had no horns or antlers to begin with could somehow suddenly grow them.
"All's I'm saying is, neither of us even finished school did we? We didn't learn all the animals out there!" The guard on his left argued.
"I still says we would have heard of horned horses though! How come we didn't hear of 'em 'till now, eh genius?" Countered the one on his right.
Sighing, Riachtanas brought a hand to his face, rubbing his head to soothe the growing headache. The two had been bickering for a few moments, and while he could honestly say that he's usually -sometimes- the patient sort, Riachtanas still felt his own was wearing thin. The two guards, in what appeared to be no more than fire toughened leather if he had to guess, seemed to both rest one hand on some crossbow they have resting on their hip, though these crossbows had no arms to speak of. Perhaps it was a different model, or of a local make.
Besides that, both guards held a simple spear as long as they were tall, and then some, with some knife or dagger resting on their other hip.
Deciding enough was enough, Riachtanas cleared his throat, and when that didn't immediately work, cleared it again. That got their attention.
"Gentlemen. Can thee conversation hold for the moment? I seek thee commander, or mayor, or whomever is head of this village. I have questions I hope to be answer," He explained, gesturing towards the village entrance with a tired look on his face.
The two guards looked to each other. The one on the right spoke first.
"What he say?"
"I think he wants to see the mayor for something."
"Oh! Ahem- alright then civilian, you just follow me and I'll bring yah to the mayor for you. Hurry up now, no dawdling!"
"I thank thee, for assisting," Riachtanas said through gritted teeth.
"No troubles then. Names Roger, of the Felton Town Guard. That's this village here, by the by, Felton! I'll bring you to Mayor Haverdish, he'll set you straight. Knows all about Felton yah see, that's how he came to be mayor. 'Fore that he was a school teacher, though I never attended one o' his classes-" The newly named Roger rattled off. Seems he was the chatty type, quite unlike Riachtanas. Still, at least he knew what the village was called. With that in mind, if he could find a regional map, Riachtanas could finally get his bearings. It was starting to get late, the Sun beginning to dip behind the hills to the west and casting its virulent colours across the sky in a sea of reds, pinks and maroons.
Speaking of Felton, Riachtanas had taken to giving it a quick once over. It seemed, by many standards, of middling size and class compared to other villages. Felton mentioned a school, so that spoke of at least basic education. Most people seemed to be of that sort, learning the basics of literature or numeracy to get by. Many of the men had calloused hands that came from working a plough, or a shovel, dressed in rugged clothing that usually had splotches of mud, dirt or grass stains. The women seemed to be the working folk too. A few passed of said women working toiling away on clothes, or just bringing their children in to heel.
Though there were a few things that he was most unfamiliar with.
One man, a hunter if the rabbits carcass was any indication, gave a quick pause to share a few words to Riachtanas' guide, Roger, mentioning mundane things such as the price of fish, or how a neighbour has taken a new wife. What caught Riachtanas' attention however was that the hunter in question held no bow, or crossbow. Instead he wielded some staff of sorts, which widened on one end into a roughly triangular shape, whereas the other end remained thin, about as wide as a single coin, with what appeared quite similar to a telescope attached on top, not even halfway up the staff. Perplexing, really.
Waving goodbye, the hunter took his leave, only making note of Riachtanas and Torrent as he was going, giving a startled jolt upon seeing them. Ignoring the hunter for now, Riachtanas instead leaned forward and spoke directly to Roger.
"Prithee tell me, that man with the rabbit, his weapon specifically, could mayhaps explain it some?" He asked. The guard turned to look at him, and then peered over to the direction the hunter had gone, giving an affirmative 'aha' upon recognising what Riachtanas meant.
"Ah yeah, I know what you mean, friend! That's an old boy of a gun right there, been in Macky's -that's the hunter by the by- been in his family for years. Few years old now, course, but does well for hunting. Macky's a fair shot, as one would expect," he explained. Riachtanas nodded along, interested but only half listening. A 'gun', then? The name eluded him, but from what Roger explained then it seemed to be some projective weapon. Perhaps using a similar mechanism to the One-Eyed Shield, though on a smaller scale? He'd like to get one for further study.
Soon after, Riachtanas and Roger came to a three storeyed building, formed from some white material that Riachtanas wasn't familiar with. It seemed sturdy enough at least, with thick looking walls and heavy roof to keep the elements out. Roger gestured to the building, and stood by the open double doors.
"You just head on in then, Mayor Haverdish will at least try and see to you, he's a good sort like that. Now's I'm only telling you this for the sake of directive, or something like that, but you look like a good enough man so I doubt you need to worry. The Mayor has got a few guards with him and then there's a few around and in the building. Just in case there's any trouble, alright?"
Nodding, Riachtanas dismounted, quietly whispering in Torrent's ear to stay put. Hardy as Torrent was, and Riachtanas definitely knew how hardy the beast was, running off to galavant in the plains was a risk, at least until such a time as when the area had been surveyed by Riachtanas properly.
Entering into the building, Riachtanas was immediately met by a warm wooden room, in stark contrast to the white walls of the outside. Above his head, what appeared to be some chandelier made of the many antlers of various deer hung, with candles giving a soft glow. This did not appear to be the only source of light, but for the life of him, Riachtanas couldn't find exactly where the rest of the light was coming from. Was it perhaps artificially made? Through magic, even? Not for the first time, Riachtanas silently sighed at the fact that he would have to inspect the given world for more information.
Roger bravely stepped forward and up to a large wooden desk, with what appeared to be a stuffed bass or other fish mounted on the wall behind it. Curious. Then again, a village like this most likely relied heavily on its hunting and fishing.
Behind the desk, sat a woman who seemed Roger's elder of 5 years or so, with strangely neat blond hair done in an unfamiliar style, at least to Riachtanas. Across her lips seemed a red paint of sorts, though for whatever reason a little whisper in the back of his mind told him that it was called 'lipstick.'
What Riachtanas next noticed however was the near constant sound of 'tap, tap tapping,' and looking over the desk showed the woman's fingers, with the nails coloured a very odd shade of red, clacking away at the strangest contraption Riachtanas has seen in some time. A tablet of sorts, with a veritable legion of buttons set upon the face. What seemed to be a rope or cord lead from the tablet to . . . Damn, but Riachtanas didn't know what the hell it was. It was interesting however, and seemed to hold all of the young woman's interest in turn.
Roger may have said something, the young woman may have said something in return, but Riachtanas didn't hear them. His eyes were glued to the contraption. He had no recollection of any device being similar to this one. That made it incredibly intriguing.
The guns were fascinating, the artificial light mildly interesting; but this was another matter entirely. It made no sense how such an inconsequential looking thing could hold anyone's interest. But it had certainly acquired Riachtanas'.
'I quite want to have one . . .'
"-Does that sound fine with you then?" He heard.
Turning his head, Riachtanas came face to face with Roger once more. Either he or the woman must have asked him something.
"Repeat the question." Riachtanas didn't really hear it either way.
"Matilda asked if it was right with you to just wait here a few and then the Mayor will come get you," Roger reiterated, appearing unbothered by Riachtanas' sudden mental blank.
"It sounds acceptable," He replied. Nodding, the woman -Matilda, he remembered- gestured him to a seat near the double doors, and told him that Mayor Haverdish would most likely only be a few moments. Mayoral business, he surmised.
Sitting, Riachtanas bid Roger farewell, placing both his hands on his lap. The room, now silent, left nothing else for him to be distracted by. Not even the contraption, but that was only because from his angle, he could not see it so clearly.
This silence brought Riachtanas back to a point he thought briefly on before, but hadn't had the time or peace of mind to think on.
'What am I to do about my Flasks?'
The Flasks of Cerulean and Crimson Tears, which replenished his magical energy and vitality respectively, had a limited number of uses, as was well known in the Lands Between. If Riachtanas is ever injured or low on magical energy, a swig from his Flasks would revitalise and rejuvenate him. But, as far as he has been able to deduce, they would refill at Sights of Grace.
And he had no idea if this world had those.
Humming in thought, Riachtanas carefully weighed his options.
Restoring his health without the use of his Flasks wasn't so hard a conundrum to fix. The Blessed Dew Talisman could passively regenerate his health. It was by only a slight amount, true, but it still held some uses. He could also heal himself with a simple incantation, such as Heal, Great Heal or even Erdtree Heal if need be, though that required magic. The real problem arose with his magical pool of energy.
True, he had the Ancestral Spirit Horn talisman. With every death in his near vicinity, regardless of his own input, a portion of his magical energy would be restored. The only problem however was that the amount restored was minuscule, especially compared to the pool of energy he had within him to begin with.
He also had the the most potent Cerulean Amber Medallion, which granted a boost to the amount of energy he already had by a not inconsiderate amount. Still, that would leave the problem of regaining said magical energy.
He could perhaps use the Assassin's Cerulean Dagger talisman instead, it would restore a greater portion of magical energy for simply attacking the vitals of a creature and landing the deadliest of hits on enemies, so truly it was a step up to the Ancestral Spirit Horn in his opinion. Still, the amount given back was far from fantastic.
The steady beat of a man's footsteps echoing through the building broke Riachtanas' out of his thoughts.
There, coming towards him was the man he could only assume to be Mayor Haverdish.
Roger had said that the man was previously a teacher, and the man in front of him seemed to give off a feeling that confirms as such. His wire rim glasses rested comfortably on a hawk-like nose, sitting under a pair of intelligent brown eyes with two bushy, greying eyebrows above them. His head was balding in the centre but the Mayor appeared to have accepted as such, and had combed and groomed the remaining on the back and sides to perfection, in conjunction with shaving his aged face smooth, lending him an old but no less respectable look. The garments he wore were foreign to Riachtanas, of which he had a feeling would be a common occurrence, however it lent well to him.
Standing, Riachtanas then noticed how short the Mayor was. Interesting.
"Good evening sir, as you may or may not know, I am Mayor Haverdish, of Felton. We welcome you to our small but gracious village," he said, giving a respectful nod to the taller man. Riachtanas gave one back, as was only polite.
"Mayor Haverdish of Felton, t'is pleasure to meet thee. I am Riachtanas of Limgrave, a land some distance from here. I have asked for a meeting with thee to ask for assistance with my travels, if thou would."
Humming at the old manner of speak, Mayor Haverdish gestured for Riachtanas to follow him.
"Certainly good sir. Please follow me to my office and I will be glad to help however I can."
"My thanks."
Leading the way, Mayor Haverdish gave thought to the odd man trailing behind him. The interesting manner of speak gave him an almost ancient air, the red cloak that covered most of his face paired with the light armour underneath only adding to it.
Still, Haverdish was a Mayor, and as such had a responsibility to represent the village well. That, and to leave a traveller with no assistance just rubbed him the wrong way.
"Please, come in. My assistant Matilda will be here in just a few moments, if you'd like to request a drink. Have a seat, and we can begin," The Mayor spoke, taking his own seat behind the thick, dark wooden desk, a computer -a little old perhaps but still well and truly functioning- in front of him, with some request or other for some lumber to conduct repairs on the screen. He turned to Riachtanas, and did his best to glean any information he could from those grey, almost inscrutable eyes.
Hard to do when the eyes were all you could really see of the man.
"Thou is most kind, Mayor Haverdish." Just as the Mayor was scrutinising Riachtanas, so was Riachtanas doing the same.
Besides his fine dressery and fair features, the Mayor had an educated air around him, just as a teacher was supposed to, Riachtanas figured. The Mayor's hands were not so calloused as the other men's that he had seen, but they appeared quite dusty, as if the man had held chalk so long that it had permanently affected the skin. Or perhaps he still taught, or otherwise used chalk.
"Now please, Riachtanas you said? What is it you require assistance with, precisely?" The Mayor asked.
"Certainly, Mayor Haverdish. Firstly I was hoping to acquire funds for means of survival. These funds would of course be given in return for work or upon completion of a task. Also, I was hoping to acquire a map of the region, just to help with travelling in the coming days," Riachtanas explained.
That was another thing he had to do, check his map. He had quite forgotten.
The Mayor meanwhile, hummed in thought. The request itself wasn't out of the ordinary, really. Plenty of travellers, wanders or anyone else of that sort sometimes required a little help from other people. It was inevitable really. The roads can be harsh and the Grimm didn't make it easier. Plus, this Riachtanas seemed willing to work for a paycheck, which was good.
"Well, I may have some work lined up. Nothing outstanding of course, and as much as I'd like to aid you, I can only give so much Lien to one man. Still, it would be at the very least of some benefit to you. Do you have any particular skills to speak of?" The Mayor questioned, resting both arms on the desk in front of him.
Thinking on the answer, Riachtanas felt the metaphorical gears turning in his head. What were his skills then?
"I am an avid combatant, if that is of any use," he shared, leaning back slightly against the chair with a calm expression on his face. Not that the Mayor could actually see his face.
"Ah, you can fight then? I should've assumed, if you're some sort of wanderer it would be best of you to have some skill, of course. The roads can be hazardous, after all," the Mayor commented, smiling slightly, already forming an idea on how to satisfy them both.
At that moment, Matilda came into the office with a light knock, a clipboard in her perfectly manicured nails. Mayor Haverdish politely asked for an iced tea, whereas Riachtanas was content for some water. Besides that, she also handed the Mayor a few papers of minor import, just daily nuisances that he has come to be used to.
"Now as I was saying, ah yes! If you are able, then I believe we can definitely assist you. If, that is, you are comfortable with trading blows with Grimm? Small Grimm I can assure you, and of little danger to the immediate town," The Mayor explained, though Riachtanas had a feeling that he knew where the Mayor was going with this.
"The Grimm thou mention are of no danger to the town, but rather to the hunters and what have you who all work or otherwise toil outside of the village walls. Would I be correct?" Riachtanas queried, receiving a nod in the affirmative from the other man.
"Precisely. As I said, the Grimm themselves are small, of an equally small number, less than a dozen, or so we've seen. You won't be going alone, as well. Eight good, experienced men will also accompany you, if that is agreeable?" He asked, smiling when Riachtanas nodded back. "Wonderful then. Once Matilda comes back with our drinks I'll have her bring all the necessary paperwork for us to sign."
Truthfully the meeting after that was of little import, with not much else to mention. Matilda came back with their drinks, and then scuttled off to retrieve the papers that Mayor Haverdish mentioned. The signing was simple, if tedious, with Riachtanas signing his name more times in 10 minutes than any other time before.
Still, the Mayor was kind enough to allow Riachtanas to stay in a room that resided within a local establishment. Squat and humble, yes, with a chipped, red tile and sturdy, I'd rather drab walls, but it was dry, and came with a clean room. Torrent had even been given a space -small though it was- just out back. Torrent seemed content with it.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Riachtanas thought back to his previous problem, regarding his magical energy. The simplest solution for such, that he could think of, was simply not using sorceries or incantations. A little troublesome, but it was hardly a world ending scenario.
As for his talismans, he decided to wear the Assassin's Cerulean Dagger talisman and the Blessed Dew Talisman. Attacking the vitals was just good combat efficiency anyway, and even if it was slow going and offered little in the way of immediate healing, the added benefit of slowly regenerating vitality was a boon that he decided to keep, for the moment at least. That may change as time goes by.
For now he'd acquire whatever equivalent for rest that a Tarnish could acquire. The mission was tomorrow.
[Line Break]
Slumped over a bar in Patch, a raven haired man grumbled to himself with the sort of abject self loathing that many equated with hole-in-the-wall bars such as this. Granted this man had more reason to drown his sorrows than most others, but that thought did little to assuage his depression.
Qrow wasn't passed out or slumped over from exhaustion, as some had originally thought. In truth he had fallen forward to hide the pained look on his face. He didn't want pity from strangers, it just wasn't him. He was supposed to be the cool guy of Team STRQ, not to mention the awesome Uncle who dropped by and showered his nieces with more love and gifts than was technically necessary.
This pit he had dug himself, using alcohol as the shovel, was just not like him.
'Oh Summer . . . If you saw me now, you'd really be giving me the business. Smack me a good four or five times and then drag me to your place where I could pass out on your couch. But you can't do that anymore. You can't do anything anymore. I just wasn't fast enough.'
He could blame the Grimm for dealing the killing blow. He could maybe see to hating on that Riachtanas guy, at least until some damning evidence proved whether or not he had assisted in killing Summer. The real problem was that he blamed himself, just for not being fast enough. Could've flown faster, could've known something was wrong sooner, could've could've could've.
Could've saved her. Didn't.
Logically there was nothing he could've done different, sure. Logically he should've known that the distance was too much and the wounds too great. Even if he got there what would he do? He didn't have a healing semblance, couldn't carry her in his avian form. Sure he knew basic First Aid, but First Aid wasn't going to fix a hole the size of his fist in someone's side.
But logic, grief and alcohol rarely mix. And right now he was practically knee deep in the latter two. Logic had flown out the window a couple hours ago. Grief and alcohol were having a rave inside his head.
"H-Heeeeeey! Thish place is so borin', shomeone get over here and beat my brainsh out already!" Qrow challenged. The bartender tried to intervene, to no success.
"Sir, please calm down, I'm cutting you off for the night-!"
"C'mon now, I sure as hell ain't getting younger here, or are ya'lls a bunch of COWARDSH!" Qrow yelled, stumbling to his feet with an angry look on his face. It might've been intimidating, if not for the 40 proof liquor running down his shirt, or the fact that he was currently facing a broken jukebox.
Finally had enough, the bartender called over the bouncer. With borderline amusing ease, he picked the drunk bird up off the ground and carried him out. Luckily, Patch, being a quiet town, didn't often have full streets. Taking out his work Scroll, the bouncer let Qrow down to call a taxi. However, the moment he did, and the moment he turned his attention away, Qrow had gone and ran for it.
He didn't really stop, not of his own volition. Instead he ran until he reached an alley of sorts between a small library and kebab place, where he promptly threw up behind a rubbish bin.
Drowsy, sick, and writhing in self-loathing, Qrow fell backwards, thankfully away from his sick, and fell unconscious rather than asleep, to the thought of being unable to reach Summer in time.