Chapter 9
The familiar ache in my lower back as I awoke told me, without a shadow of a doubt, that I'd spent too long sleeping in one position on the floor. With a long, weak sigh I opened my eyes, the bare boards and support joists of the ceiling greeting me. Sunlight streamed through the open window, but judging from the color and the shadows, it was still early.
"Ugh, fuck my life," I groaned, pushing myself up.
I threw an elbow up on the bed to help balance myself, Grima giving an irritated grumble as I interrupted her sleep.
"Hey, wake up," I said. "Sun's up, we're up. Let's move."
"… kill you… destroy… everyone you love…" Grima muttered, rolling to face away from me.
I gave a tired, old-man-grunt as I lurched to my feet, twisting and wincing as I felt my back pop.
"Sorry, sweetie, that line don't work on me no more," I said, kicking the bed a few times for good measure. "C'mon. Up and at em. We don't want to make Anna wait."
"What do I care if…" Grima trailed off into a yawn so wide I thought she was going to swallow her pillow for a moment before she finished. "… the merchant has to wait on us?"
"Would you prefer she get sick of waiting for us and leaves, therefore making us walk to the capital?" I pointed out dryly.
Grima gave a long groan, curling up tighter for a moment before sitting up. Her hair was a disaster, the majority a tangled mess with strands sticking up everywhere. She blinked groggily, running a hand down her face before turning a weak glare at me.
"Remember how you made me sleep on the floor?" I asked with a grin.
"And they say I'm the evil one," Grima sulked.
I scoffed as she threw her legs over the end of the bed before stretching her arms above her head. I took a moment to watch her being so unguarded. It's a rare thing, getting to watch someone waking up like this, and it's something that a lot of people take for granted. Grima caught me staring, shooting a little grin back over her shoulder.
"Are you going to stand there staring all morning, or are you going to go organize us some sustenance?" she asked coyly.
"Breakfast, just call it breakfast," I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Any preferences?"
"Food," Grima shot back with another grin.
"Alright, but don't complain to me if you don't like it," I warned as I went for the door.
Grima mumbled something noncommittal as she began to run her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make it somewhat presentable. As I stepped into the hallway, I made a mental note to pick her up a brush, or to at least ask Anna if she had any for sale.
I descended to the ground floor in short order, emerging into a bar/restaurant area that doubled as the reception.
The inn was nothing particularly amazing. Two floors above the initial bar/reception, the rooms were clean and there were no holes in the walls. I couldn't comment on the beds, but the floor hadn't been cold, at the very least.
"I hope you get fleas from the bed, you bitch," I muttered, stretching out my neck again.
A few other travelers were sitting around the tables in the restaurant eating an early breakfast. I didn't see the familiar tell-tale red ponytail anywhere, so either Anna was already out in the stables getting her cart ready, or she was dragging her feet, too. Which wasn't likely, given her lineage.
I decided that it wasn't worth dwelling on, instead angling for the bar, only to stop when I heard a very familiar voice.
"What you meaning you not serving ale at breakfast! Breakfast is being most important meal of day! Is needing most important drink, too!"
I watched the bar where a big old mercenary was leaning heavily on the bar-top, frowning at the man behind it.
"I've told you, you ignorant foreigner, that it's too early to serve alcohol," the server sighed.
Gregor gave a long sigh, running a hand through his short hair and smiling like the guy behind the bar was an idiot.
"And if Gregor not having slept, what then?" the mercenary asked. "Would not be early for him, but rather late."
"Sir, if you haven't slept yet then I suggest you rent a room and get some rest," the server sighed.
Deciding to make the poor local man's day even harder, I plastered a fake smile on my face and walked up to the bar next to Gregor.
"Good morning, can I get some breakfast please?" I asked. "Three breakfast specials and three ales, please."
Gregor frowned when I interrupted them, but broke out in a booming laugh at the last part of my order. The bigger man grinned widely as he threw an arm around my shoulders, leaning down so that our heads were at the same level as we smiled expectantly at the server.
"See?" Gregor said, pointing at me with his free hand. "New friend is understanding."
"I don't get paid enough for this," the local man sighed. "Damned foreigners… Fine! Pick a table, I'll bring it all out."
"Thanks a bunch," I said with a sunny smile.
"Gregor being much obliged," the bigger man said.
The server rolled his eyes, disappearing back into the kitchen and leaving the two of us at the bar. Gregor pulled his arm off me and turned his slab-like face towards me, studying me for a moment before giving me a boyish grin.
"And Gregor is being much obliged to you, new friend," he said, holding out one meaty hand.
"Nice to meet you, Gregor," I said, shaking his hand. "I'm Ben. Would you care to dine with us? My travelling companions should be down soon."
"Gregor not wanting to impose," the older man chuckled. "Only wanted ale."
"My friends are both attractive young women," I said in a low voice.
Gregor barked out another laugh, slapping me on the back.
"Should have been opening with that fact!" the old mercenary chuckled. "Gregor is choosing table big enough for all, then!"
Gregor led me to a decent sized round table, six chairs arranged around it, and plopped himself down in one seemingly at random. However, the act didn't work on me; he'd chosen the seat facing the door, while still giving him a decent range of vision at the stairs and the door to the kitchen, while putting his back mostly to the wall. Classic mercenary move. Classic Gregor move. I tried to ignore the bored glares from the other locals in the room. I'd been to Japan, I was used to being stared at, so I just brushed it off.
I sunk into the seat next to him, where I could keep an eye on the door and the kitchen. Fortunately, I had Grima and Anna upstairs, so I didn't need to watch the stairs. Gregor seemed to be watching for this, and nodded appreciatively.
"Gregor is feeling threatened," the old man guffawed. "Feels like young Ben and friends being here to take his work."
"We've already got work," I shrugged. "One of us is a merchant, myself and my partner are her muscle."
Gregor made a sound of understanding, nodding sagely.
"Is too bad," Gregor smirked. "Plenty of room for help on Gregor's job. Was just being cute."
I smirked, glancing over my shoulder as I heard someone on the stairs. Two familiar sets of legs descended into view, followed in short order by their thighs, waists, arms, chests, shoulders, and heads. Anna gave a wide yawn as Grima practically dragged her by the sleeve, the merchant's wavy hair even more of a mess than Grima's had been.
So much for the 'famous Anna saying' about burning daylight being like burning money…
"Ah, here they are now," I commented idly, waving at Grima.
Gregor sucked in a breath, and as I turned back to him I had the rare treat of watching his grin go from 'boyish fun' to 'suave lady killer'. He then turned this borderline 'come-hither' look on the girls as they approached, Grima glancing at me curiously as she sank into the seat next to mine, Anna letting out another wide yawn as she settled across from Gregor.
"Why are you dragging me out of bed so early?" Anna asked around her yawn.
"Are you sure you're an Anna?" I chuckled.
The red-haired merchant grumbled something, blinking a few times before her gaze settled on Gregor across from her and she froze. For his part, Gregor just smiled wider, offering her a wink.
"Good morning," he said in his deep, baritone voice.
God, the way he said it even gave me shivers.
Stupid sexy Gregor…
"Um… good morning?" Anna said, clearly confused.
"This is Gregor," I offered with a grin. "We ordered the same breakfast, so I figured it might be fun to eat together."
Grima shot me a knowing look, and I shrugged. She shook her head, chuckling a little and sidling closer to me, our shoulders just a hair from touching. Anna quirked her head at Gregor, and the big mercenary leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"So young Ben is telling Gregor that you are merchant," the older man said.
"Yes, that's right," Anna nodded, the gears in her head apparently starting to turn again.
"Must be dangerous work, in country like Plegia," Gregor went on conversationally.
"That's what these two are for," Anna said, nodding at us.
Grima was glancing around the room, clearly bored, but Gregor raised a brow at her. Before any more conversation could happen, namely Gregor making the mistake of hitting on Grima, the server from earlier reappeared carrying a long tray of flat bread, baked beans and feta cheese, as well as four mugs of ale. The food went in the middle of the table, the exasperated man placing a mug of ale in front of each of us before scurrying back to the kitchen, shaking his head and muttering to himself in some local dialect I didn't catch.
Gregor didn't hesitate, upending his mug and taking a long drink, draining half of it in one hit before sighing happily. I took a much smaller drink, grinning as Anna looked blankly at her mug, and Grima looked aghast at her own.
"Really? For breakfast?" she deadpanned.
"I told you not to complain," I shrugged.
"Is best way to be starting day! Bottoms up!" Gregor laughed.
After a rowdy breakfast involving about six more large mugs of ale, we bid farewell to Gregor. The old mercenary was off to work for the Grimleal, hunting a 'rare magical creature', which was no doubt Nowi. We wished him luck, and the big guy left with a smile on his face, which was more than enough to put a smile on mine. I'd thought about going with him, if for no other reason than to recruit him and Nowi early, but between my desire to distance myself from the Shepherds and the knowledge that Gregor would take good care of the little manakete, I'd decided to stick to the plan we'd already come up with.
Then Anna had shooed us off, claiming that we'd only be in the way while she was working in the city. We were due to leave tomorrow, as long as she got all her business done today.
Meaning Grima and I had a free day.
"Can I go back to sleep now?" Grima asked, her arms crossed.
"What, and waste a valuable day for goofing off?" I shot back.
We were standing in the shade of the inn's awning, facing the main street, Grima standing with her arms crossed as I leaned back against the inn's wall. It was still fairly early, but the merchant's quarter where the majority of the inns were kept was already bustling with people. Some things, I guessed, were just universal.
I was actually somewhat curious about Plegian cities. I'd only really marched across Plegia, never really seen the place as a tourist. Not that a desert nation was likely to get much in the way of tourism, but I was still curious.
Unfortunately, my travelling companion didn't seem to share my wanderlust.
"If it is a 'free day' as you put it, should I not be able to spend it however I please?" she pouted.
"A very astute observation," I nodded. "However, we have two goals. One is the acclimating of you to humanity, and a major population center is a good place to do that."
"Ugh. You raise a good point," Grima sighed. "What's the second reason?"
"Food and booze for the trip," I shrugged. "Unless you wanna go back to eating rations."
Grima huffed, glaring back at me over her shoulder. I bounced off the wall, moving over to her and bumping her shoulder with my own.
"C'mon, it'll be fun. Let's go do stuff before the breakfast buzz wears off," I said.
Grima continued to glare at me for a moment before her façade cracked and she sighed, shaking her head and looking out at the hustle and bustle before us.
"Fine," she relented. "But if it isn't fun, you're sleeping on the floor again."
I just smirked and shook my head, wrapping my arm around hers and leading her into the crowd. We blended in almost immediately, and I let us get lost in the flow of traffic. The press of people carried us into the market proper, dispersing around a large, ornate fountain in the center of the space. Grima pulled her arm from mine, dusting off her coat and looking around with a barely concealed expression of contempt on her pretty features. The expression was matched by the Plegians that were moving around us, but Grima seemed to miss it, too busy rearranging her coat.
With a small start I realized that I wasn't thinking of them as 'Robin's' features or coat anymore, but as Grima's own. I wasn't sure if the thought made me happy or sad. Probably a little of both.
"This market stinks," Grima huffed, wrinkling her nose.
I chuckled. She wasn't wrong; the pungent musk of sweat was barely masked by the spices and perfumes on offer in the crowded market. Add to that the shit from the pack animals hauling cargo and the scent of the food cooking at certain stalls and you had a cacophony of sensory overload.
"It takes a little getting used to, but that's part of being human, Raven," I told her. "If you'd like, we can get you a little bag of smelling salts or potpourri to carry under your nose."
"You are mocking me now," Grima frowned.
"Heavens, no," I said sarcastically. "I would never dream of it."
Grima just glared at me for a few seconds until I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"Oh, come on, little miss grumpy britches," I said. "Why so serious?"
Grima sighed out her nose, glancing around the marketplace again.
"I'm not…" she started, trailing off before trying again, blushing slightly. "I don't know how I should act in this kind of environment."
"You've got Robin's memories," I suggested.
"And none of her charm," Grima shot back.
I rolled my eyes.
"Dramatic much?" I said. "Come on, it's not rocket science. Let's just go wander around and have fun. You wanted to put the old you in the past. New you starts today."
"You make it sound so easy," Grima huffed. "But now… in the face of all this… humanity I…"
"You were fine with Anna," I pointed out.
"Anna is but one human," Grima said. "There are so many here. And they're all so unique. Such individuals. I do not know if I can…"
I leaned in close to Grima, smirking a little.
"Wanna know my secret for dealing with people?" I asked. "Guaranteed to work."
Grima swallowed and nodded, hanging on my every word now.
"Fake it 'til you make it," I told her.
"That's it?" she asked.
"That's it," I nodded. "I hate people and crowds with a fiery burning passion. But it's necessary. So, pretend that you don't hate it. Convince everyone else that this is what you love, and you'll even start to convince yourself."
Grima looked at me for a moment with a blank expression before she sighed and glanced away. Another grin rose to my face as I watched the corners of Grima's lips turn upwards, and she slowly, hesitantly, reached out and took my hand.
"Very well," she said. "Let's go and look around."
I wrapped my hand more securely around hers, pulling her along behind me as we melted back into the press of bodies in the market. Fortunately, years of training have left me somewhere in the vicinity of 'Pro Wrestler' size, even if I am a little short, so when I moved, people moved out of my way. It made things a lot easier on Grima, who was still somewhat struggling with the idea of being around so many people.
I led her to the first stall I spotted, the pair of us coming to a stop out front of a stall selling local spices in small pots. The merchant was busy haggling in rapid-fire Plegian with some other local trader, which was fine because we really didn't need spices anyway. Grima quirked a brow before bending to take a whiff, before snapping back up and giving a cough.
"Congratulations, you discovered curry powder," I snickered.
"It is very strong," Grima said.
"It's pretty tasty," I said. "And a good way to make sure you can't taste how bad the meat you're eating is."
Grima's brows quirked up, before she waved to the merchant.
"How much for a small pouch?" she asked in perfect Plegian, pointing to the curry.
It wasn't surprising that Grima knew Plegian, in retrospect, but I was slightly taken aback regardless. My own Plegian was spotty at best. The old merchant looked up, wiping his hands on his large stomach before smiling at the man he was talking to and nodding before waddling over to us.
"Ah, curry? For you, five copper pieces," he said in thickly accented Ylissean. "Or ten foreign coppers. Worth it, though. Is my own secret recipe. No better spice in all the southern territories! Also comes with pouch for free."
Grima nodded and smiled, elbowing me in a very un-subtle indication that she expected me to pay for her spices. I sighed and fished out the coins, grateful that I'd had the foresight to change all my cash to local currency, and passed them to the merchant. Grima accepted the little bag of spice with a wide grin up at me, and I sighed and opened the little bag that the innkeeper in Webrook had given us for her to place it in. Seeing the transaction was complete, the merchant went back to his earlier conversation, effectively ignoring us. His refusal to speak in Plegian to us was irksome. Not huge, but surprisingly annoying. I don't even think he realized how frustrating little innocent racism moments like that were.
Grima remained naïvely oblivious, enjoying the weight of the small curry pouch before passing it off to me.
"I get the feeling we're gonna need to buy a bigger bag or something," I said.
"This was your idea," Grima pointed out. "You should have known better than to take a maiden shopping. Come, let us find something to put this curry spice on."
"I'm sure we could find something that already has some on it," I said.
I turned to study the market, eyes almost immediately locking in on a small plume of smoke from a cooking fire. I took Grima's hand and led her back into the crowd, a little more of a spring in her step now.
"Come on," I said. "Looks like there's some food places over there."
Grima nodded and moved a little closer to me as we pressed through the crowd, the small smile never leaving her face as she clung to my arm.
We stopped before a line of food stalls, each selling something similar but slightly different. I glanced down at Grima and cocked a brow, ignoring the way the Plegians forced to move around us muttered or scoffed.
"What does your nose think?" I asked, ignoring them.
She chuckled a little, tilting her head back and taking a deep breath. She wrinkled her face up a little, as if thinking hard, before pointing to one of the stalls.
"That one," she said.
I nodded, and we approached the stall to the far right. There were less people in the front of it, but that was because it appeared to sell heavier food than the stalls around it. I couldn't tell what they were preparing in the back, but a line of meat skewers were propped up in front of a small grill, which appeared to be what Grima was zeroing in on.
I waved to the merchant behind the counter, pointing to the skewers and holding up two fingers. The man nodded and held up three fingers, and I dropped three coppers on the counter. Grima was practically salivating when I passed her one of the skewers, and we moved aside out of the way to eat. She tore into hers with relish, smacking her lips contentedly after her first bite. I took a far more reserved nibble, discovering the meat was lamb, surprised at how delicate the spices were. By the time I'd taken a proper bite Grima was already ripping the last of the lamb off her own skewer, eying the stick longingly as she swallowed.
"Here," I chuckled, holding mine out to her.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "That one is…"
"I'm still full from breakfast, actually," I assured her. "Here. Enjoy."
Grima smiled as she accepted the skewer. She ate this one much more slowly, giving me a chance to study the rest of the stalls in the market as she savored the lamb. Once she was done, I held out my hand, and Grima smiled again as she passed me the pointed wooden skewers. I tucked them into my pocket, reasoning that you never knew what could come in handy when.
We moved slowly through the marketplace, Grima clinging to my arm again with an oddly contented expression on her face. We window-shopped at a few stalls, checking out stalls of textiles selling fine silks and sidestepping merchants promising that 'we would never find finer gems than the ones their stalls had'. There were more backwards glances and angry mutters as we browsed, but it wasn't just us, I noticed. A lot of the Ylisseans wandering around the market were getting the stink eye. Made sense, of course; Gangrel was winding the populace up for a war at this point, so of course anti-Ylissean sentiment would be high. I'd just have to keep an eye out for any potential trouble while we shopped.
I stopped at one stall selling daggers and swords, picking up a fairly cheap, generic dagger and some maintenance and sharpening gear for it. I didn't intend to use it in actual combat, but it paid to be ready. As we were leaving the stall, I automatically moved to strap it to the small of my back, but without a partner it just felt off-balance, and I moved it to my hip instead. It would probably live in my bag when I found a more permanent solution, anyway.
I didn't buy anything bigger because Plegian swords annoyed me, and all their Ylissean imports were ridiculously over-priced. I wouldn't waste my time with a Plegian sword when I was used to Ylissean and Chon'sinian weapons. Ylissean because it was how I'd been trained, and Chon'sinian because you bet your ass my weeb-self had bought my weight in katanas as soon as we'd hit Valm. But Plegian scimitars and falchions were terribly balanced for my style; they depended mostly on wide slashes and chops, and much of my sword-fighting was lunges and thrusts. It was also why I favored the straight, ninja-made Chon'sinian swords as opposed to the more mainstream curved ones, a fact Say'ri had wheedled me on incessantly, trying to get me to use a 'proper warrior's weapon'.
I felt another pang of loneliness as I thought of my lost friend, the fiery young Chon'sinian warrior having left quite the impact on me. Her endless drive and quiet optimism had been one of the things that had made the campaign in Valm bearable, and Say'ri and Tiki together had been damn near impossible to feel down around. I found myself wondering if we would meet again in this timeline, if we'd be friends again. I glanced down at Grima at my side, the dark god leaning down to inspect some pendant at a neighboring stall with a small furrow in her brow, realizing that the odds were pretty slim this time with the company I was keeping.
Grima glanced up at me, sensing my scrutiny, and I smiled and took her hand. She moved back to holding my arm, and I moved to the stall she was looking at.
"That one?" I asked, pointing to the pendant.
It was a small tear-drop shaped piece of opal, set in a little silver clasp. The stone's color was dark purple, shot through with lines of red. A rare coloring for the precious stone. I could see why Grima was drawn to it, though.
"It is quite an interesting color," she said, feigning aloofness. "But it is an unnecessary bauble. We should save our money for supplies for the desert crossing."
I glanced down at her, smirking a little and stepping away from her. Grima read my intentions and grabbed at my sleeve, trying to pull me away. I shrugged her off, laughing a little.
"A goddess deserves the best, doesn't she?" I asked her.
Blushing, Grima frowned at me and crossed her arms.
"If you wish to waste our money, then please go ahead," she huffed, her face bright red.
I laughed again and took the small pendant off the hook, holding it up and waving over the stall's proprietor. In short order I'd paid the requisite two silvers for it (I'd haggled her down from five, so I wasn't going to complain too much), and returned to where Grima was pouting. She couldn't hide the expectant gleam in her eye as I moved back to where she was waiting at the corner of the stall. Apparently, she had actually wanted the pendant.
"Please allow me to pay tribute to my goddess," I said, my voice soft, yet my face still stuck in a playful smirk.
"You are insufferable," Grima huffed.
She tilted her head back, though, letting me tie the small necklace around her neck. The pendant hung just above her collar, and as I stepped back, she gently placed her fingertips on it.
"Your tribute is appreciated," she said, shyly refusing to meet my eyes.
"Come on, let's go buy some actual supplies now," I chuckled.
Grima nodded, moving to my side again and clinging a little closer to my arm this time. It was nice to see her acting so human, though. Made me feel a lot better about my decisions lately.
"So, what do we actually need?" Grima asked as we continued through the market.
"Well, Anna said she'd handle the water and the basic supplies," I said, looking around. "So, we need to think about clothing for a desert crossing, mostly, as well as some less ration-like food that'll keep for at least a week in the heat. We've got pretty much everything else we need."
"What's wrong with the clothes we have now?" Grima asked, genuinely curious.
"They're black," I explained. "Black absorbs heat. In the desert, that's a bad time."
"But all the Grimleal wear black," Grima pointed out.
"Well, if you know the spell they use to avoid heat stroke, please, do tell," I snarked playfully. "Otherwise, I'm gonna buy some beige robes and scarves."
"Why do we need scarves if it's so hot?" Grima huffed.
"To use as masks," I told her. "It's the sand. I hate sand. It's coarse, rough, it gets everywhere…"
I smirked a little at my unintentional Star Wars quote, knowing how much it would have pissed off some of my old friends back home.
I led Grima to the first clothing stall I could find, glancing at the folded cloth out front as Grima disengaged from me. The stall didn't have any other customers, and the middle-aged woman working there came right over.
"We need cloaks and scarves for a desert crossing," I said, before she could even speak. "Light colors, but nothing too fancy. Whatever you suggest will be fine."
The woman glanced at Grima's scarred cheeks for a moment before turning a fake merchant's smile on me and nodding.
"Of course!" she said, clapping her hands together. "I have the finest cloaks in the whole market! Please, give me a moment to pick some out for you."
She scurried away to the other end of the stall, digging around in piles of neatly folded clothes, and I leaned over to Grima with another smirk.
"I'm sure they all say they have the finest stuff here," I muttered to her.
"Oh, and here I was being impressed at your fine eye," she muttered back with a grin.
The merchant returned quickly, handing us both a folded bundle of cloth.
"Here, please, try them on," she offered.
I nodded, stepping back and letting the cloak unfurl. It was a plain, simple light brown color, a few shades lighter than my beard. It was a good length, though, falling halfway down my calves, and the hood could be pulled low to shield my eyes from the light. Grima's was basically a copy of mine, considering we were about the same height. The edges were all uniform with no fraying, and no thinned sections to indicate they were used. They would do nicely.
"How much for both?" I asked, slipping off the cloak and folding it over my arm.
Grima left hers on, spinning a little to watch it billow out with an innocent smile on her face.
"For both? Ten silvers," she said.
I blew a breath through pursed lips, not quite whistling.
"That's a little steep," I said.
And it was. I would have put the cloaks at maybe seven, at most. Still, though, we had plenty of cash, and I didn't want to cause a scene calling the lady out for jacking up her prices just because we were foreign.
"They are fine cloaks," the merchant pointed out.
"They are," I nodded. "But we still need to buy more supplies yet. How about twelve, and you throw in some scarves, too?"
The merchant actually bobbed a little in place as she smiled.
"Ah, but that would only buy rags as scarves," she said, looking pointedly at Grima. "And for a woman as beautiful as your wife, you would want the only the finest, yes?"
"She's not my-" I started, cutting off as Grima sidled up to me again.
"Oh, come now, dear, these are fine cloaks," she said, a note of teasing in her tone.
"Fine," I sighed. "What can you do for fifteen?"
The merchant clapped and smiled the smile of someone who had just scored a victory, before turning her back to us and reaching into one of the chests she had behind the counter. I glanced down at Grima, who was blushing a little again and pointedly watching the merchant instead of looking at me.
"You'd better let me sleep on the bed tonight after this," I muttered to her.
I felt her shudder against me in a silent chuckle, her grip tightening ever-so-slightly against my arm. I rolled my eyes, telling myself it was fine as long as she was having fun.
The merchant rose up from behind the counter, holding two smaller bundles of cloth. One was a simple scarf, made from similar material to the cloaks but of a lighter, cream color. The other was a deep purple, similar to the highlights on Robin's old coat.
"For the gentleman," the merchant said, indicating the cream scarf before the purple one. "And for the lady, to match her pendant."
Grima gave a happy little laugh as she took the scarf, wrapping it around her neck and looking to me for approval. I sighed and nodded, handing the cloaks back to the merchant.
"Would you mind wrapping these up for us? I don't think they'll fit in my bag. I think she wants to wear hers now, though."
"I do," Grima said. "It is quite lovely."
"I am happy you are satisfied," the merchant said with a slightly more genuine, beaming smile.
I rolled my eyes and fished out the fifteen silver coins, lamenting the fact that we'd already chewed through so much of our cash. I handed them over to the woman behind the stall, who had already expertly bundled up the cloaks with my scarf.
"Thank you," I said, tucking the bundle under my arm.
"Thank you, travelers," she said. "May the desert winds speed your journey."
"Okay, let's go dump this stuff back at the inn and see if we can't find some stuff to keep us entertained on this trip," I said to Grima as we stepped away from the stall.
Grima just hummed happily and continued to stick to my side. It was cute and all, but the morning was wearing on and the temperature was rising, and I was starting to get hot. I'd feel bad just shaking her off, though, so I let her do as she pleased for now. If it got any hotter, though, I sure as shit wasn't gonna let her keep clinging. But for now, this was fine. If for no other reason than she was blocking the pocket that I kept my coin pouch in by clinging like this.
We began to remove ourselves from the crowded market, moving slowly and simply taking our time as we relaxed. No war to fight, no genocidal plans to enact, nothing except the plan to go back to the inn and see what the rest of the day entailed.
Well, I was about as relaxed as I could be, considering I was surrounded by people.
Making good progress, we made it out of the market and onto the road going back to the inns lined up near the port. Fortunately, this was all bunched up pretty close together, but it was still about fifteen minutes of walking. Well, fifteen minutes when you didn't have an oddly overly-affectionate dark dragon god clinging to your arm, considerably slowing your progress.
The street wasn't as crowded as the market was, but it was still fairly busy. I kept us to one side, trying to stay out of the way as we made our way back to the inn, but a few people still had to move around us.
Just as I was beginning to let my guard down, I noticed a group of Grimleal priests marching down the center of the street and let my gaze get caught on them-
"Watch it, foreign scum!"
I gave a small grunt as someone shoved my shoulder hard, spinning me around out of Grima's grasp and throwing me onto my back. I could hear the snickers of the people on the street as I went down, as well as a few mutters of quiet sympathy.
I lay there for a second, blinking at the clear blue sky, lamenting the fact that I'd been having such a good day until now.
I sat up in time to watch some old man in Dark Mages' robes move to step over me, and without thinking I stuck my knee up to catch his sandaled foot. His eyes went wide and he comically whirled his arms around as he face-planted.
Grima had just watched the whole thing with a surprised and confused expression on her face, looking at me as I got up from the ground and dusted myself off. I flashed Grima a small grin before turning back to the mage spluttering on the street.
"Oh, I am so sorry!" I said, very over-exaggeratedly. "You must have tripped and fallen on that scum! Here, let me help you up!"
Contrary to my words, though, I stomped down, hard, on the old mage's ankle. There was a loud crunch, and the man screamed out in pain.
I was admittedly not handling this as well as I could have been.
"Hey!" another of the mages shouted.
I looked up, my faux-worried expression twisting to a snarl in the face of four more of the dark mages advancing on me. The crowded street had gone silent now, people either openly gawking or hurrying to get out of the firing line.
"You dare…" Grima hissed, stepping forward.
"Silence, whore!" one of the mages snapped. "You ask how we dare, yet you wander around the city with your head uncovered, clinging to this man, wearing the marks of our faith!? And you ask how we dare!?"
Another stepped forward, veins pulsing on his forehead. "We were going to ignore your blatant disrespect, but-"
He stopped abruptly as Grima stepped forward, her eyes and the scars on her face glowing with crimson light. Ropes of purple mana were flaring off her, crackling in the air around the pissed off woman.
"Whoop, y'all are fucked now," I smirked. "Sic 'em, Raven."
I turned to pick up the robes I'd dropped when I'd fallen, and I heard a strangled scream from one of the mages. By the time I looked back up, cloaks safely under my arm, Grima had already reduced him to a bleeding mess on the street. The crowd screamed and began to scatter, the three remaining mages backing off slowly now. Even the old one on the ground was trying to subtly crawl away, and I stomped down on his broken ankle again to remind him I hadn't forgotten him.
"You stay right there, now," I warned him.
The old mage's scream seemed to break the spell on the other three, two drawing curved ritual daggers as the other prepared a flux spell between outstretched hands. Grima just growled, waving a hand and perforating one of the dagger-wielders and the one casting with pencil-thin beams of dark magic. I scoffed, remembering from my own experience how painful that one was. They both fell to the dusty street in pools of their own blood, but groaned in pain as they curled up, alive.
The last mage standing shivered, screaming as he lunged with his dagger. Grima slapped the blow aside, using the back-swing to slap him across the face with the back of his hand. I heard bone snap with the blow, and the man gave a mangled scream as he fell to the ground on his knees, gingerly holding his broken jaw.
She had taken care of all four of them without breaking a sweat, the only evidence that she was rumpled at all the snarl still on her pretty face. It was somewhat unsettling, this reminder that I'd had a creature powerful enough to be worshipped as a god hanging off my arm all day.
"Not you," Grima hissed, looming over the mage. "No… you die. Your death will be slow… painful… and when I finish with you-"
She didn't get the chance to finish. I stepped between them, fishing the wooden skewers from my pocket and ramming them into the side of the mage's neck. Grima gasped, and I tore the skewers back out in a jet of dark arterial blood. I twisted my hand, expertly avoiding the spray as I pulled back.
"We don't have time for slow and painful," I spat, tossing the skewers aside.
I looked up into Grima's shocked expression and froze. She wasn't just shocked. She looked hurt, too. I blinked, belatedly realizing that she hadn't been planning to kill any of them. Even the one she'd hit first was still alive, all four of them looking at me with shocked, terrified expressions.
The mage I'd killed toppled to the side, and suddenly we were alone on the street.
"You killed him," she whispered, blinking rapidly.
"You swore not to kill anymore, not me," I snapped. " Now if you'll excuse me, there's still four more-"
"Mercy, please, lords."
I froze dead in my tracks at the familiar voice. Slowly, I turned to look back up the street as a young woman in Dark Mage's robes strode towards us.
"Tharja," I muttered.
"I beg your mercy," she repeated, stopping and bowing low before us.
"Lady Tharja, you cannot lower your head to-" the old mage at me feet began to say.
"Silence!" Tharja hissed dangerously. "You do not see their power?"
She rose up to her full height, looking at us impassively. Or, trying to, anyway. I'd known her for a long time, and I could tell she was terrified of us.
I'd seen her look at me like this once before, and all the memories came rushing back to me in a wave so strong I actually took a step back from her.
"Clearly, you are a powerful practitioner of our craft, my lady," Tharja said to Grima.
"Yes… you could say that," Grima responded slowly.
"That you bear such power, and wear our mark so openly, is proof enough of our error," Tharja went on quickly. "I once more beg your mercy for my foolish fellow Dark Mages."
"Take them and leave," Grima said, waving her hand dismissively.
Tharja nodded gratefully and looked to me again. I couldn't say or do anything, frozen under that gaze. She looked into my eyes for a moment before smiling gratefully and bowing again, before turning to her fellow mages.
"On your feet, fools!" she snapped.
The injured mages all crawled upright, supporting each other as they limped away down the street as fast as they could, without so much as a backwards glance. It was the exact same kind of retreat I'd seen a million times before on the battlefield.
"I thank you once more," Tharja said formally. "And ask you the honor of your name."
"Raven," Grima said, her voice thick.
"Lady Raven, I bid you safe travel," Tharja said.
With one final bow and a swish of her cloak as she turned away, Tharja left.
Grima and I stood there, above the body of the man I'd killed, for a time, unmoving. All I could do was watch Tharja leave, until she disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. Grima looked up at me for a moment, her eyes shining, before she turned and walked away, back in the direction of the inn.
AN: Blargh.
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